by David Pauly
Fifty years to the day that Aradia received this terrible news, Magnar launched his attack. The outer portion of the kingdom of Phoencia was sacked and looted, leaving only the eponymous capital city on the southern shores of Nostraterra intact. Aradia wept for her husband, but took solace that her city, and her people, most of all her son, Marcellus, remained safe. Aradia bitterly remembered the choice forced upon her by the Elven Council: flee with the few ships she had, abandoning most of the Elves of Phoenicia, or intervene in the war and lose her powers. Unable to betray her subjects or even the ungrateful peoples of Nostraterra, she had stayed to fight for her people and her kingdom. She felt so certain that her choice to stay and fight had been the correct one. But her certainty and inner peace were breached as quickly as the city's defenses as the hordes of Magnar sacked and looted the city while Aradia found her magic inexplicably useless against Magnar's sorcery. Fleeing with the tattered remnants of her people, Marcellus leading the van and Emedius, weapons master of the Greater Elves, guarding the rear, she found temporary refuge in the Great Forest of the Lesser Elves.
There she was met by an Air Spirit sent by her grandfather. Stripping her of all her traditional magic, the spirit offered her a final choice: return to Elvalon, beg forgiveness from the Council, and spend a year in humble compliance to her Grandfather's will, or remain a powerless Elf woman, queen of a ruined city and a ravaged people. Raging in defiance, she refused to return to Elvalon, determined to regain her powers through methods known only to her. And such had been her intent . . . until Bran was brought to her, dying from terrible wounds. After all the pain and loss Aradia had suffered, this was a tragedy she could not endure. Secretly she used a flute created by Justinus for healing and played the small crystal instrument, staving off Bran's death. The Breath Crystals, as Aradia and Justinus called them, were few in number, but Aradia had not been given the powers to use them by the Air Spirits, instead learning them on her own.
Remorse for leading her people from the safety of Elvalon to disaster, and grief at the loss of her husband and her kingdom, overcame her desire to remain free. Guilt coursed through her mind as Aradia realized the tremendous suffering she had inadvertently caused by her arrogant presumption that she could change Nostraterra for the better. Distraught and hopeless, magically destitute of her traditional powers, Aradia had been determined to save at least one innocent life, and thus she had asked Raghnall to petition the Air Spirits to aid Bran. The Air Spirits had agreed, but their conditions, backed by the Elven Council, had been dire. Aradia was forced to accept even more humiliating terms than she had been offered before. Now Aradia would become a submissive lady in waiting, losing her royal privileges and titles for one hundred years, but Bran would be allowed access to Elvalon, to heal and become whole again.
Now, today, her sentence had been removed at last, and she had been restored the use of her traditional powers . . . though forbidden to experiment with new forms of Elven magic. She had come here, to where her long downfall and suffering had begun, to watch the sun rise on what she believed would be a new life, one in which she had learned from the errors of the past. One in which she could be happy again. Complete.
No one troubled her solitude, and she basked there in the morning light, feeling as if the dawn were breaking inside her as well as without. But she did not linger overlong, for had agreed to meet Bran at his house close to the harbor. It was late morning when she arrived at Bran's simple home, located in a quiet courtyard adjacent to a small market where the hum of Elves going about their business was faintly heard. She knocked and was told to enter.
Ducking her head, Aradia avoided the low ceiling of a dwelling fit for a Gracie. Clean white-plastered walls in a rustic style with wooden beams greeted her eye. A simple couch stood against one wall. This sitting room was also Bran's dining area, and Aradia smelled the simple fish stew that Bran made for his lunch, the aroma drifting from a pot that hung above the glowing coals of the fireplace along the wall near his kitchen. Daylight streamed in through open windows.
Bran offered her refreshment, which she declined. Crossing a small rug woven of clean rags sold cheaply in the markets, she sat on the low, cloth-covered couch, her knees nearly level with her chin, and looked at Bran in the sunlight. How young he looked! Far from the prematurely aged and wounded Gracie who had disembarked the ship one hundred years ago. The Air Spirits had actually kept their word. 'Well, how are you, then Bran?' she asked.
'Fine, my lady, I am as healed as my wounds will allow. But my dreams remain dark and foreboding.'
Knowing that Bran would likely never recover completely from the terrors of his adventures, the pain of his physical wounds, and the loss of his dearest friends, Aradia counseled him as she always did to focus on the present and the future. 'The past, dear Bran, is eternally written. No magic can change it.'
'I know this objectively, my lady, but it still haunts me. However, that is not what I wanted to discuss with you today. For the past two weeks or so, I have had a recurring dream of Gracies in thralldom and Platonia overrun by outcasts and vagabonds. I am afraid now that my sacrifice was in vain and that my home is in great danger.'
'Why do you believe your dreams are anything more than that?' asked Aradia.
'I have never had a dream that repeats itself night after night. I believe in my heart that what I see is true. We Gracies have always relied on our rivers to protect us from the outside world. Even before I departed, there was some concern amongst us that an attack by the Alchemists of Men could overpower the River Spirits who guard us from outsiders. If Men successfully overcome our River Spirits, then we will be forced to rely on the goodness of Men to honor their treaty giving us Platonia in perpetuity for our part in destroying Magnar. Who will look after the Gracies if Men fail in their promise and allow others to take Platonia for themselves?'
Aradia replied, 'When we left, one hundred years ago, nearly all of the Alchemists had been slain in their efforts to defeat Magnar. Many of their secrets were lost, according to the Men of Eldora. Even the two Earth Spirits who, according to legend, taught the Alchemists of Men their knowledge had fled Eldora to parts unknown long before Magnar attacked the world. Only the Earth Spirit who values life and the growth of animals and plants remains among Men, and even he has gone missing. What makes you think that Men could now attack your River Spirits and force your land into submission?'
'My dream is persistent, my lady. I do not know what else to say other than that.'
'Why would Men covet your small lands? Nostraterra is vast, and even now I am certain that Men have not filled all the corners. Besides, the Men of Eldora and Kozak are for the most part honorable and true. They will protect your land against intruders in thanks for the great part that you played in freeing all of Nostraterra from the terror of Magnar.'
'If there is one thing I learned during my journey to the dark land, it is that most people, when given half a chance, will take from others simply to have something that someone else does not—Magnar being the greatest example of such selfish desire. Please, my lady, will you take me to the place of your visions so that I may see for myself that Platonia is safe?'
Aradia frowned. 'Though I mentioned this place to you, Bran, I also told you that I am under complete restriction to use any magic by the Council, including using the Acies,' she said, referencing the massive crystal set in the Tower of Sight to which Bran had referred.
'I may be much older than I look,' Bran said, 'but I have not yet lost my wits. Rumors of your pardon swirled through the market when I went shopping this morning. It is common knowledge that your sentence is over. The restriction has been lifted, your powers and authority reinstated. You can help me, if you wish it.'
Sighing, Aradia said, 'Yes, my restrictions are lifted, it's true. But if I wish to keep my new status, I must abide by the law. No one but a member of the royal family is allowed to use the Acies, and it is strictly forbidden for all but Greater Elves to communicate through them.'<
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'I do not want to talk to anyone, my lady, just look through it a single time. You can direct it to allow me to see Platonia. I lack the knowledge, desire, and skill to communicate with anyone. I just want to see. My access would be only with and through you, so what harm could it possibly cause? I have not asked for any favors from you Elves in the two hundred years I have been here. Surely, after so long, I might be permitted a brief glimpse of home.'
Confounded by this clear logic, Aradia was uncertain what to do. Part of her thought of sending for permission from the Elven Council, but as this was a minor matter; it might take weeks or months to receive a response. After all, her appeal for clemency had been pending before the Council for three years before she had finally received the news this morning. The Elven Council derived its power from the Air Spirits who communicated through Seven Sacred Crystals of Air. The Spirits' voices were notes of music, various tones that were open for interpretation by the Seers of the Elven Council. Aradia knew that the only method of communication was to make similar sounding tones through a sending crystal played by the only Crystal Master, one of the oldest Elves in Elvalon, with air supplied from bellows by his two apprentices. At least two millennia of training were necessary before an apprentice had sufficient skill and knowledge to become a Master, forming random notes and tones into messages complex enough to pique the Air Spirits' interest. The Air Spirits were notorious for ignoring most requests from the Elves, and when they responded, a simple answer was highly unusual, and only when their preeminent law of non-interference was at risk. Thus the three Seers of the Council interpreted the messages from the Air Spirits and frequently disagreed with each other. The only fact that had remained constant for the past millennia was a strict policy of isolation, in which the Air Spirits refused to aid any Elves that left Elvalon for Nostraterra.
Besides, Bran was correct: she would not be violating Elven law in any significant way that she could see. So what if he looked upon the forbidden crystals? And who, if not Bran, deserved a bit of mercy, a glimpse of home? Still, if she did this thing for her old friend, she must be careful and consult with some authority in Elvalon to make certain that she was not punished again.
Saying nothing, Bran looked haunted by his dreams, and she was moved again by great pity for him.
'Very well. Tomorrow, I will meet you here just before dawn. But we will meet with Raghnall on our way to the tower and abide by his opinion in this matter. If he says that you may not see through the Acies, then we must petition the Elven Council and await their reply, no matter how long it will take.'
Bran nodded his assent, as this was the best outcome that he could reasonably expect.
The next morning, in darkness, Aradia and Bran passed swiftly across the city of Myrddin to the hill on which stood the Vistus Castellum, the Tower of Sight. Waiting for them at the foot of the hill was Raghnall, his lined face grave but not foreboding.
Raghnall was the only Air Spirit who had taken corporeal form in the history of Elvalon. He had done so in an effort to aid Aradia and her rebel group millennia ago. In punishment for defying the ban on Air Spirits aiding material beings directly, Raghnall was forced to remain in this form indefinitely, allowed access to some of his former powers, seemingly at random, but not allowed to transform back into spiritual form. Raghnall had told Aradia long ago that he believed the Greater Elves would someday play a decisive role in defeating evil in Nostraterra and that he was willing to make this great sacrifice in aiding her and the Greater Elves in the creation of their city of Phoenicia.
Now Aradia spoke with him and asked his thoughts on taking Bran to the Acies. Raghnall was long in thought, and his eyes lost focus as he appeared to commune with a higher power. Aradia saw Bran shuffle uncomfortably as the seconds became minutes and the minutes nearly an hour before Rahall's gaze returned to Aradia and Bran.
'I consulted the Air Spirits, and while theirs was not a unanimous decision, the consensus is that you are correct, Aradia. Bran's aid in defeating Magnar is renowned even in the spirit world, and allowing him to see his homeland is part recompense for his great sacrifice. Such is the view of the majority of the Air Spirits. However'— and Raghnall's features took on a stern aspect—'if Bran communicates with anyone or anything in Nostraterra in any fashion, you and he will be severely punished. Is this clear, Bran? There will be no mercy if you break this command.'
'Perfectly clear, Raghnall,' replied Bran, whose ruddy, cheerful face now drained of color.
'Then you both may proceed with me. I will inform the guards at the base of the tower that you are both allowed to enter the room of the Acies.'
A great beacon had been placed atop the tower to hold the light of the sun and moon at all times. It lit the sea for dozens of leagues at night, so that any ships tarrying in the darkness need not fear losing their way. Bran marveled at the immense crystal tower two hundred feet tall, built of white, hard stone whose pipes and flutes powered the beacon. The crystal tubes, imbued with the magic of the Elves, took energy from the very air and changed it through sound into a great heat and light. The beacon waxed and waned as the wind coursed through the beautiful tubes. A deep, powerful song was sung by these tubes, often plunging in tone to beneath hearing, resonating in the body with powerful waves. Indeed, even the Elves could not long withstand the power of the song of this mightiest of crystal towers. Guards were exchanged several times per day, yet still the tower took its toll, and the Thunder Elves, as the guards and beacon tenders were known, came to look old in a land of perpetual youth.
With Bran and Raghnall beside her—the Gracie appeared lost in marveling—Aradia climbed the steps to the tower entrance. There Raghnall stopped and addressed the guards, informing them that Aradia and Bran had the permission of the Air Spirits to enter into the Chamber of the Acies.
The guard captain was relatively young, perhaps a millennia in age, and he was rather short, with weak, watery features under his dark hair. His thin voice matched his stature. 'My lord Raghnall, while I take your word that the Air Spirits have given permission, I must have permission from the Elven Council for this mortal to proceed with lady Aradia."
Raghnall shot him a glance of cold condescension. 'Young one, the Elven Council draws its authority directly from us Air Spirits. Lady Aradia and her guest have neither the time nor the inclination to wait on a slip of parchment from the Elven Council. We Air Spirits have allowed this visit. Now stand aside.'
Looking uncomfortable but acknowledging the authority of Raghnall, the guard captain bowed and stood aside, 'My lady, you and your companion may proceed. Here is a pass to present to the guards on duty outside the Acies Chamber.'
'I shall wait here,' said Raghnall.
Aradia nodded. 'We will not be long.'
In silence Aradia and Bran climbed the circular stairs that led up the tower. Six Elven guards greeted them at the entrance to the chamber and, after briefly examining Aradia's pass, bowed and opened the doors.
Aradia knew the history of Elven magic better than any Elf but her grandfather and her brother. Great was the skill of the Greater Elves in the Ancient Days, when magic was fresh and ran freely in the world. It was then that they had built the great city of Myrddin in Elvalon. Her grandfather had drawn forth the magic from the air necessary to create the Acies, and the finest Elven crystal wrights had built the magic devices when they were still young in their craft, before their final masterworks, the Crystal Towers of Air, were born of their hands and hearts, forming the heart of the defenses of Elvalon.
Beyond the door lay the master crystal pipes of the Acies. There were other lesser and Greater Acies within Elvalon, one Greater Acies in Phoenicia, and four lesser Acies scattered throughout Nostraterra, originally given by Aradia to the men of Eldora.
Lesser Acies, while transmitting images to the user, only allowed communication when another person was using an Acies. More powerful Acies would allow the user to send messages to others, though the recipient of the message cou
ld not respond directly to the sender. Only the master Acies here in the tower allowed the user to directly communicate with another if they were not using an Acies in return. Moreover, all of the Acies would present images of past and present and future, though only a highly skilled user could distinguish between certain of these images. The Elves who were allowed to possess them used the Acies as messenger devices. The Greater Acies could be directed by the user to an extent, depending upon the mental strength of the viewer, and could communicate with both other Greater Acies to a limited degree and with nearby lesser Acies with only minor difficulty.
Aradia was going to use the Master Acies herself to see, if she could, what was occurring in Nostraterra, and then focus its powers on Platonia. As she and Bran entered the room, she knew in her heart there would come a time again when the purposes of the Council and her own purposes were in direct conflict. She hoped only to have enough to time to be beyond the reach of the Council before she returned to Nostraterra to resume her desire to bring order to that chaos.
Enormous open windows filled the outer walls of the room, giving Aradia a view of the endless ocean to the north, and the lands of Elvalon to the east and west. The breeze was much stronger up here, blowing almost constantly from one direction or another. The sweet smells of the flowers of Elvalon wafted into the room with the ever-present salt tang of the ocean. This high above the surface, on an isolated hilltop, the only sound was that of the wind; sometimes cheerful, occasionally mournful, the sound came with each gust as it danced and swirled around the room.
The room itself was simply furnished. Chairs were set along one wall, and there was a small step ladder and one gold circle inlaid in the floor about two feet in diameter where one stood to use the Acies. The large crystal pipes of the Acies hung down from the ceiling in an ornate, chaotic mass, glinting in many different colors as the sunlight that streamed in from the eastern window was refracted and reflected in an endless light that constantly changed.
