Asharal stood before me with clenched teeth. His refined, calm, imposing countenance, which had usually intimidated me during previous encounters, had now slipped away, only to be replaced by a never-before-seen appearance that revealed in full, Asharal’s brutish and boundless violent capabilities.
Only then did I realise what an enemy my family had made, and woe to us that we had set out to make it.
“A good effort,” said Asharal, his voice trembling in anger.
I tried to reply, but that turned out to be a struggle. The pain of his blade, submerged in my body, was crippling, as was the blatant truth of my situation. I was defeated.
“A new tide is coming, my Son.” Asharal put some weight against the hilt of his blade, pushing it farther into the wall, twisting it. He leaned in close and whispered, “The Evening tide.”
Chapter 3
It was weeks until I saw Asharal again. His absence in my life was a growing lacuna in my heart, and during the evenings the vacantness would only deepen. The discomfort of it pulsated until it was all I could do not to fret with consuming worry and imaginative fears over what tragedy had befallen him.
What if he truly was in trouble? I would consider thoughtfully, usually during the evenings whilst I stood upon the white stones before our hut, gazing out into the night, longing wistfully to glimpse Asharal’s tall and lean form appear amidst the shadows of the trees.
Sometimes I would imagine him there, deluding myself to my unfathomable shame. I would run out in haste like a fool, only to be embraced by the chilly night and the empty shadows of the woods. I would skulk back to our little hut feeling hollow, where my mind would fall prey once more to different possibilities that might explain why Asharal hadn’t yet come to visit me.
Had he met someone new?
Asharal had never spent such lengthy time away from me, for I was the dawn in his life. That was what he had told me once, when we had first met. He had said how my face to him was like the dawn and that by it he had awakened from the darkness of this world. That was why he called me Dawn. Sometimes he called me Sweet Dawn, and despite how formally and sophisticatedly Asharal often spoke, I could always sense his fondness and deep affection whenever he referred to me as he did.
The weeks went by with no word. When I accompanied Papa to the market, as was our custom, none there had seen Asharal or any of his family members. When Papa came home one day to tell how trouble was apparently brewing at Wind Tower, the seat of the Wind family, my fear and worry took a whole new turn.
“Something is happening at the great fort,” Papa had revealed to us, referring to Wind Tower. He had been dismayed, as could be expected, but all I waited for was some news that concerned Asharal.
“Do you know what it is?” Mother had asked him.
Papa had shaken his head whilst I sat by the fire, waiting for the worst, expecting the worst, and a part of me hoping for the worst – the waiting and longing had become too much for me to bear. I needed some answers. I needed some closure as to why Asharal remained elusive from our part of the woods.
Had he forgotten me?
Most elvesses on the island coveted Asharal – his great beauty and allure earned him growing attention throughout the land. His renown as a warrior sent his prominence escalating above the clouds, whilst the controversy that surrounded him, regarding his feud with the Winds, only made him that much more enticing.
Most of the people at the market spoke often of him. If they were not complaining about the Winds, they were praising Asharal. Asharal’s fame had grown so large, Papa had once commented that Asharal’s own sister perhaps remained the only elvess on the island who could walk outside her home unattended, for any elf who knew who Asharal was wouldn’t dare violate her.
“No one is sure on the details,” Papa had explained, his gaze downcast, disquieted. “The word is that there was some disturbance at Wind Tower and since then, the speculations have started growing more obscure. Some are saying that there was an attempt to steal a vial from the Eternal Pool, whilst others claim …” his voice trailed off at that moment, almost as if he was too afraid to continue. But when he looked up at my mother, he said very softly, “Some are saying that there has been an assassination attempt.”
“Who could do such a thing?” gasped Mother, who, though she was not an enthusiast of the Winds, remained ever a believer in their great and personal power over the common Sun Elf. None could do harm to any of the Winds. The Father of the Sun was the most powerful sorcerer in the world.
Papa had glanced my way, hesitantly, and when he looked back at Mother again, it seemed to me that some answer to her question had been given and that no more words were needed to be spoken on the matter.
That was when my fear had began to swell prodigiously, for I knew what Papa and Mother had tried to conceal from me. They believed Asharal had something to do with whatever was going on at the Wind Tower.
I sat up all night contemplating the situation, until at last my desperation to see Asharal got the better of me – and so my mind began formulating the most direct course of action that would allow me to see him again. I decided I would go to him myself.
The next day, I went out to Papa’s usual spot for casting his net into the bountiful river, to make certain enquiries as to where Asharal lived, for I did not know, though not for lack of wanting to know. Asharal wouldn’t tell me. It was very rare for him to disclose anything personal.
To ensure my safety whilst travelling alone on the road when I set out on my romantic quest, I had conjured up the idea of disguising myself as a male. Then very briefly, as an extra precaution, I considered procuring one of Papa’s cutting knives to defend myself if my ruse failed. However, the very thought of using that knife shattered my initial bravery, and so I decided that a disguise would be sufficient.
When finally the lawn and the banks rose, and came together to form a sharp edge over the river where the shadows of the canopies above darkened the grass, I found Papa hunched and intent on his fishing nets.
When he looked up, Papa’s narrowed focused bloomed into the smile that I loved so much. His furrowed forehead spread clean and he dropped his nets on the grass to receive my embrace. Papa smelled of earth and soap. Very lightly, he smelled of my mother too. I loved how they loved each other.
A large part of me desired what Papa and Mother had together, yet at the back of my mind, I believed their relationship could not be mimicked, no matter how one tried. In my case, I was in love with an elf who was vastly incomparable to Papa.
His was a simpler life, Papa’s. Full of the modesty and humility in nature, and while originally that had appealed to me, meeting Asharal had slowly changed that. Now, I had developed a wonder for new and daunting things. Now I wished to see the limits of our island. I wished to see the sea. I wished for the Winds to administer better rule over their people. I wished for prosperity and fine living. Not because I was unhappy with my life now, but rather because whilst I spent time with Asharal, he made me believe that we as the Sun Elves deserved to be greater than we were currently. Asharal made me see that, just now, the Winds had the Sun in the dirt, the mud and the slums.
“What brings you here, sweet Pebble?” asked Papa.
I knew I couldn’t come forward with the truth just yet, so I shrugged and lied. “I just came to see my father. Mother is visited by the cobbler elvess.”
“Ah. To be sure, those two will be at each other’s words for a while then.” Papa drew me down close to him. “Are you bored then, sweet Pebble?”
Truthfully, I was not. My mind was racing, as was my heart. I was nervous, and excited to begin my plans.
“A little. I can’t help but wonder what is going on at Wind Tower.”
The topic saddened Papa. He looked down upon his net and fidgeted with it as he came to grips with himself.
“I as well,” he said. “It is all I can think of, of late. The Winds however, I believe, will prevail against thieves and murders. I am convince
d.”
Suddenly, Papa took up my hands and held them both together for a close inspection. “You have lovely fingers, my sweet Pebble.”
I immediately took my hands back as if somehow he would discover the reason behind how they appeared so different from before. The tool that Asharal had given me I had used frequently and at length. Though initially I had been shamed by the gesture, I was now ever thankful for it. For now, as Papa had just confirmed, my fingernails were clear and as a result my hands had become so engaging that I had developed great pride in them.
“Thank you,” I said, looking out across the river. I decided now was the time to enact my real purpose here. To begin, I would feign interest in the Winds once more.
“Do you believe anyone could be strong enough to have harmed the Winds?”
Immediately Papa shook his head as I knew he would. “Absolutely not. The Father is too powerful.”
“I hear Asharal’s brother is powerful too.”
Papa’s expression darkened. “I hear the same. Yet perhaps not so powerful as to be compared with the Father.” He waved the subject towards conclusion, but I was hardly done.
“Do you really believe Asharal had something to do with what trouble has been reported at Wind Tower?”
“Who said I believe that?”
I gave him a withering look. “The other night. You never uttered the words, but I took your meaning. You think Asharal is involved.”
“Well, if anyone is, it would him.”
It was hard to deny that. But still. “He hasn’t come to visit me since the Crier announced the Father had discovered immortality,” I told him, revealing for the first time how that had deeply wounded me.
Papa held me close. “Do not fret, sweet Pebble. I do not believe Asharal is the elf for you.”
“Why not?” I asked.
Papa hesitated. “Because he will require too much of you instead of accepting who you are… and where you come from.”
I didn’t like this conversation. I wanted to steer it towards where Asharal lived and in which direction that was so that I might know which way to go. Just thinking about arriving at Asharal’s residence sent my heart racing wildly.
Surely, he will be proud of me? I thought. Surely, he will notice how clever I was to have taken to the road alone without falling prey to the depraved of mind?
“He will be a good provider,” I reminded Papa. “He is strong and he is able.” The more I said it, the more convinced I was. Papa should be supportive of the match. Yet he wasn’t, and that made me bitter.
“But he has made himself a slanderer of the Winds. He oversteps. One day, it will mean his downfall. If you are too close, he will drag you down with him.”
“Asharal would never allow me to fall if he does, Papa,” I protested, believing it whole-heartedly. “You don’t know him.” And though my response had been impulsive, inspired by the desire to defend he whom I could not live without, I suddenly found my footing again along the path of my plans and rushed quickly through the opening Papa had made for me, afraid I would miss my chance.
“He has land. Rich land. Far away from the Winds. I would always be safe with him.”
“Do not be so confident in your Asharal, my sweet Pebble,” said Papa, his voice stern now. “His lands are not that far away.” There it is, Papa. Tell me more. “And if the Winds don’t find you, Hurricane Terror will.”
That last statement surprised me. “What does Hurricane Terror have to do with Asharal’s land?”
“Everything. He lives in the Nevashal regions, a hot spot for Hurricane Terror’s annual rampage.”
Hurricane Terror was our most definitive natural disaster. It appeared every year and devastated everything it encountered. Hurricane Terror was even responsible for Asharal losing his parents.
“How can you be sure Asharal purchased land there, Papa?” I asked.
“Because whatever your impressive elf does, my sweet Pebble, inspires the talk of every bored elf in the Wind Glades. Nothing that Asharal does goes unnoticed around these parts, especially if it is something that contradicts the brilliance which his reputation has afforded him. To this day, I cannot fathom how someone so intelligent would buy land right where Hurricane Terror will one day hit.”
The fact that Asharal would do something so apparently peculiar assured me that somewhere, Papa and all who scoffed at Asharal’s move, were ill-informed.
I made my way back home, lost in my current state of contemplation. I knew in which direction to head when beginning my journey to see Asharal, but now the difficulty was my disguise. Most on the island favoured a clean-shaven look. Only rarely would one encounter someone with stubble on their chin, and those elves were oftentimes among the poorer peoples of our humble race.
To be mistaken as one of the poor was to invite calamity as well. Robbers often aimed for the poor, despite the lack of profit that would be in store for them, for they were easy victims and not always empty-handed. And yet, to have a traveller notice my smooth features would bring me the attention I wanted to avoid as well. I decided that I would have to wear thick layers to broaden my small, lean frame. I would need to remain hooded, and maintain a certain posture to complete the façade of my disguise.
I could mimic how Papa carried himself. That would be easy. Despite his humble living, he always walked with a sense of pride. I saw his confidence as a result of having a love such as my mother.
Papa and Mother kept their coats by the door of our home. When it was time to leave the hut, I would snatch both as the main components of my disguise. As for the money needed to buy food along the road, I retrieved that before supper. The money that Papa had saved for me was kept under his straw mattress. Though I felt guilty for taking it initially, I told myself how essential it would be if I was not to starve. Also, I believed that Asharal and I would one day enter into a union, therefore rendering the money that Papa saved for my future greatly compensated for by the income of Asharal.
After supper, I waited until my parents went to sleep. I slowly crept out of my bed. I was careful not to make any movements that would awaken them, and had even hidden my coin within folds of clothes that had I packed in my little woollen bag, so that they could not make that clanking sound every time I moved.
I felt exceptionally proud of the steps I had taken so far, and when at last I made it outside, the chill of the night was palpable to the point where my breath fluttered before my face, my excitement budding… until I entered the woods in front of my home.
It was so dark and quiet that my senses became hyper-alert, and I flinched at the slightest unexpected sounds. I hugged myself against the cold and picked up my feet briskly.
I knew these woods well, for I ventured through them every day. Being here at night, however, I felt like I had never once walked beneath such boughs, and as if at any given moment some assailant would jump out from the shadows and fall upon me, ensuring my ultimate demise.
Out of the woods, Wind Glade was revealed by the unravelling of the hills that it hid between, and it was a reassuring sight.
Soon, I will not feel so alone and exposed.
When I at last passed under a wooden archway that made up Wind Glade’s southern entrance, the dusty causeway that passed off as the glade’s streets was vacant of the people that I usually saw here when I visited with Papa. The emptiness of the roads didn’t come as a surprise, given how late the hour was. And yet, part of me was unsettled by the reality of what I observed, for I was so used to the busyness of the streets that before entering the glade I had almost hoped it would be as it always was during the afternoons. But deep down I had been aware of how foolish such an expectation was. Even from the borders of the woods further back, I could tell Wind Glade’s residents were all tucked away behind the doors of their homes, warm and safe…
I reached the western limits of Wind Glade and passed through a wide-open space in the mud-bricked walls. The moonlight was bright and allowed me to see my path clearl
y. The road led down the rolling hill where, beyond, I saw the broad river that flowed in great girth and with twisting curves.
Beyond that were the Sun Mountains, great peaks which, during the day, touched the clouds. Now, they seemed not as lofty, yet still great in their bulkiness. Faced with their expanse, it seemed to me that the Sun Mountains were like a great wall that shielded this side of the valley from whatever evils lay on the other end.
I hadn’t even reached the bottom of the hill when I realised that I was no longer alone. Two dark figures were ascending the slope and as the distance between myself and these two strangers became smaller, the warning in my heart grew ever more frantic. Wind Glade was behind me, still in clear view. It wasn’t too late to turn and run. But for some reason, my feet betrayed me, and carried me forth.
“Evening, stranger,” called out one of the travellers.
I said not a word but raised a hand in reply. I intended to pass them with no further verbal exchange, yet one of them had different a thought.
“Is all well?” the stranger said, compelling me to stop.
Rudeness would cause suspicion, yet to speak and reply would make these fellows learn that I was no male.
My heart was racing uncontrollably now. I didn’t know how to proceed and for the first time since sneaking out of the hut, I regretted my impulsiveness. I should have just remained patient and waited for Asharal to send some word, even if it took months. It was through such thinking that it occurred to me, for the first time this evening, that perhaps Asharal wouldn’t have appreciated the recklessness I was currently displaying. He was a calculating and rational elf, and suddenly I knew that this type of behaviour wouldn’t impress him at all. Not even in the slightest. And whilst confronted with such revelations, it was all I could do not to burst into tears, for now I believed that, undoubtedly, I was in trouble.
I nodded in answer. Beneath the hood of the elf who addressed me, I saw his doubt begin to form. Then his companion took a step towards me, seemingly making an intent study of me.
The Evening Tide Page 3
