They turned a sharp corner, coming up on the bridge, when an arrow buried itself in Thomas’ arm.
He reflexively screamed, and lost his grip on the reins. The pain carried up his shoulder and down his arm, wave after wave of pulsating burning. He reached up to the arrow on reflex alone, but even touching it caused a spasm of agony to tear through his body.
Thomas was dimly aware of Zach by his side, keeping him upright as the horses ran for all they were worth. Other arrows zipped past their heads, but no other shafts were buried in their bodies. Zach was shouting, Thomas could hear it, but the roar of the rain was so loud in his head. His shoulder was bleeding, he could feel the blood. Thicker than the rain, yet somehow wetter than it.
It was only when he noticed the rain had stopped did he realize he was only feeling blood.
It was his last sentient thought as he slipped from the saddle and fell to the ground. He didn’t lose consciousness, not quite, but only his willpower alone kept him awake. Every nerve wanted to succumb to the welcoming darkness, but he refused. If he fell asleep, what were the odds he would wake up again?
The next thing he was truly sure of was a dull pain in his shoulder and a sudden release of pain, as if the wound had been relieved. He tried to stand, but he found his limbs were heavy and he really didn’t want to, anyway.
“Stay still, human,” an unfamiliar voice said. Thomas complied, not that he had much say in the matter anyway. He tried taking a deep, steadying breath, but the attempt caused pain to surge through his ribs like a thousand pinpricks.
“He going to be alright, Morando?”
Thomas heard Zach ask the question, though he felt it was kind of a silly one. Of course he wasn’t. There had been an arrow in his arm!
“Peace, Zacharias,” came the answer. It was from a voice that seemed older than Thomas thought possible, the voice of a wise old man in a much younger man’s body. “He will be on the mend within a day or so,” the voice continued.
“Zach,” Zach replied, “just call me Zach.”
Thomas grumbled a response to one of the voices, as real words were beyond him. The pain in his shoulder was lessening moment by moment, but Thomas was still almost positive he was going to die.
“Hey Tom, you’re going to be all right,” Zach said. Thomas didn’t believe him until he opened his eyes.
Then he felt his will to live return to him.
Wherever he was, it was beautiful. Trees sprouted higher than his eyes could follow, and the area glowed green as the sun pushed through the leaves. The homes were downright quaint, built from wood and stone with carvings that were made with the utmost care. The carvings caught the sunlight just so, making them look like they were glowing.
That was just the front wall of the nearest house. Thomas looked around as best he could, unable to lift his head but wanting to capture everything. The ground was made of cobblestone, with leaves falling to the floor at random times. There was an arch made of wood nearby, leading to the main hub of the city.
“Where am I?” Thomas asked.
“You are in Verdonti, human,” the old voice replied. Thomas turned to see its owner, surprised to see the plainly dressed man standing over him. He had a high forehead with well-groomed blond hair, but his green eyes were not unkind. He had a thin mouth and a clean face, and the rest of his body was hidden in a plain brown robe.
“Name’s Thomas, sir.”
“Very well… Thomas. I am Morando, a healer of the elves.”
“Thank you for taking care of me, sir.”
“Zacharias…”
“Zach.”
“Zacharias,” Moranda repeated, completely ignoring Zach’s interjection, “is a friend to the elves, and you did need aid. We elves are not as unkind as people seem to think.”
Thomas nodded, but the motion hurt his head so he stopped. “Well, I’m afraid all I can do is offer my thanks, seeing as I don’t have any money.”
“Monetary compensation is not required. However, if you were willing, I could use… a favor.”
“A favor?” Thomas repeated, “what do you need?”
The healer looked away, which Thomas thought was strange. What favor could this elf need that he was so unwilling to ask?
“It is a shameful thing, I must admit,” Morando said, pacing away from Thomas and Zach. Both boys shared a confused glance, Zach raising an eyebrow and Thomas repeating the motion and adding a shrug for effect.
“There is a girl in town,” Morando finally said.
“Okay,” Thomas said, “and what do you want me to do?”
“If you would deliver this letter…” the healer began.
“Sorry,” Thomas replied, shaking his head, “but I don’t think that’s a good idea. I may not know much about women, but I know having someone else deliver your letters is not the way to win her.”
Morando looked as if Thomas had struck him. But considering he did indeed owe a debt to the elf, Thomas continued.
“But I will deliver that letter, if that’s what you really want. I still think if you’re interested in this gal, you need to tell her yourself.”
Morando shook his head, now clearly torn. Thomas glanced at Zach, who was looking back and forth between him and the elf. Thomas sincerely hoped he hadn’t immediately made an enemy of this new ally, but he had to speak his mind. It was better than staying quiet.
“I… cannot see her,” Morando said, breaking into Thomas’ thoughts. Thomas simply tilted his head to the side in response, waiting for Morando to tell him more.
“The girl I speak of… she is my daughter.”
Thomas felt his jaw drop and his face grow red. That was not what he was expecting.
“The child’s mother has forbidden me from seeing her. I cannot so much as pass her on the street without receiving glares and whispers. So to avoid any… nastiness… I have written a letter to her. I only ask that you see it into her hands.”
Thomas looked at Zach, stricken. Zach looked mystified, as if unable to understand. When Thomas thought about it, he wasn’t entirely sure he understood either.
“Why won’t she let you see your daughter?” Thomas asked, sitting up on the stone tablet to properly see the elf.
“We were married, her mother and I,” Morando replied. “But then the Magi War came, and I was recruited to tend to the sick and wounded on the battlefield. The horrors I saw…”
Thomas didn’t answer. He didn’t want to think about it.
“But on my return to Verdonti, I found she had received notice that I had fallen in battle! In her grief, she was taken advantage of. Ovano took my place as father and husband.” He finished with a word that Thomas didn’t recognize, but he was almost positive it wasn’t something very pleasant.
“I lost a great deal because of that war… and I would see it reclaimed. At least, if nothing else, I want to have my daughter again.”
“I don’t quite get it,” Thomas said, “why would your wife turn you away?”
“Elven law,” the healer replied, his tone so bitter it made Thomas’ stomach turn. “It requires that once a husband or wife takes another spouse, the previous spouse – if they still live – are not to communicate with them. Though children are not bound by this law, my wife refuses to let me near her…”
“That… is a stupid law,” Thomas said. Zach nodded beside him as Thomas got off of the table, holding his sore arm. The flesh around the hold in his arm was wrinkled and frayed, as if it had rotted just a little. He tried rolling his shoulder, but it hurt too much.
“Your shoulder is not yet healed, by you were saved from the worst of the damage.”
“That’s good news,” Thomas replied, “not hand over that letter. I’ll see your little girl gets it.”
Morando’s jaw actually fell in shock. “Truly? You do not jest?”
“Cross my heart,” Thomas replied, “now hand it over. And what does your little girl look like?”
“Golden hair, almost white. She has green eyes, is tall for her
age and has a birthmark on her left cheek in the shape of a star.”
Thomas nodded, privately wondering how a birthmark could be that specific of a shape. But he said nothing else, accepting the letter and moving towards the inner workings of the city.
What he saw was not what he expected.
He was expecting tranquility and reverence, the whole of the elven kind to be in eternal prayer. He thought the elves would be dressed in voluminous robes and looking down their noses at him. Not unkindly, not on purpose, just by habit.
What he saw was a group of people who had lost the will to exist. They sat around, gazing sadly at the sky, none in a group bigger than three. The children didn’t play but simply watched the floor as if the insects were the most entertaining thing around.
If Thomas didn’t know any better, he would say this place had fallen on some extremely hard times. Every face he looked in had the matching expression of depression.
Only the homes had any essence of former excellence. They were carved from a deep red wood, mixed with different colors of stone and each had their own individual carvings. They were deep circles within circles, forever orbiting each other. Thomas was almost completely distracted by the houses he nearly forgot to check for the children. Remembering himself, he started moving from child group to child group.
Strangely, not one elf gave him a second look.
It was amongst the third group of dormant children that he saw who he was looking for. The little girl was idly picking at the grass, staring at it with a vacant expression.
“Pardon me, sweetheart,” Thomas said, crouching down so they would be at eye level, “are you Etanta?”
The little girl nodded, a spark of life reaching her eyes.
“Well, now don’t tell anyone, but I have a gift for you.”
“A gift?” the little girl said with a croak. She hadn’t spoken in a very long time. “What for?”
“It’s a gift from your daddy,” Thomas whispered.
“Ovano doesn’t send me gifts. He’s an evil man. He made my real daddy go away,” Etanta whispered back, rage coloring every breath.
Thomas’ brow furrowed. Something was going on here, something decidedly wicked. Relegating that for the time being, he said, “this is a gift from your real daddy.”
Her face changed so fast it was as if Thomas had lit a candle. She immediately thrust her hands out hungrily, eyeing Thomas for her gift. It only lasted for a moment however, before she pulled her hands back in and took a deep breath, closing her eyes.
“May I please have my gift, sir?” Etanta asked politely. Thomas almost laughed, and indeed couldn’t keep a smile from spreading across his face.
“My name’s Thomas, sweetheart. And of course you can.”
He held out the letter, and it was clear every fiber of her being wanted to snatch it from him. But she restrained herself, taking it gently and saying, “thank you.”
“Oh go ahead,” Thomas said, “open it up and read it.”
She took his permission immediately, tearing open the envelope and pulling out the letter hidden inside. Her eyes scanned the page, moving back and forth so fast Thomas felt dizzy just watching her. The further she read, the more her expression shifted from elation to worry, and that was soon a worry that Thomas shared. She should be the happiest girl in Verdonti, but the letter didn’t seem to be having its desired effect.
“What is that?” a deep voice sounded. Thomas and Etanta looked up to see an emaciated man standing on the porch of the nearest home, staring down at them. Thomas felt Zach stir next to him, no doubt on edge. The man had to be Ovano, the way he held himself despite his clear lack of nutrition. There was an air about him that Thomas immediately disliked, as if this elf thought he was better than everyone around him.
The elf walked down the stairs, his high forehead wrinkled and his large nose turned to the sky. The robe he wore was a bright yellow that Thomas found hard to look at, and the face was even less inviting.
“N… nothing, Ovano,” Etanta stammered, trying and failing to hide the letter behind her back.
“I have told you time and time again,” Ovano roared, “to call me, ‘Father.’”
Etanta stayed completely silent in defiance. Thomas looked back and forth between the two, seeing an anger that shouldn’t have belonged on either face apparent on both.
He shared a glance with Zach, both men thinking the same thing – something was wrong.
“Who are you?” Ovano demanded, “what do you want with the child?”
“I reckon that ain’t any of your concern,” Thomas replied, eyes narrowing.
“Considering I am her father, you would be mistaken. Now what is it you’ve given her?”
“Perhaps you didn’t hear,” Thomas said in a tone that carried every ounce of his growing anger, “but it’s not. Yer. Concern.”
The elf was beside him so fast Thomas didn’t even see him move. He didn’t back down, staring back into the almost black eyes of the elf.
“I suggest you step away, human. You wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself so soon upon arriving in Verdonti.”
Thomas actually smiled at the obvious threat. “Don’t worry, I don’t embarrass easy.”
Ovano turned on his heel, walking back up the steps. “Inside. Now,” he said to the child, who had no choice but to obey. No sooner had the door closed behind them then Thomas heard what was distinctly a shout.
“That elf don’t sit right with me,” Thomas said.
“Me neither,” Zach replied, rubbing his right hand with his left. “He don’t have the right to talk to anyone like that, let alone a little girl. Something stinks about this whole thing.”
Thomas nodded before noticing the letter was on the ground. Thomas stooped to pick it up, analyzing it. When he heard footsteps behind him, he quickly hid the letter inside his shirt. He turned back to Zach to see two elves had joined him, both staring with little kindness at the two humans.
“Are you the two who have been causing a disturbance in this neighborhood?” the shorter of the two elves said while the other just continued to glare.
“Yes sir,” Thomas replied. There was little to be gained by lying.
“You two will need to come with us to see Chancellor Vontanado.”
Thomas gulped, sharing a worried glance with Zach. Was he really going to be in that much trouble? But as he thought about it, he found that he would have made the same choice again given the chance.
“Well, lead on,” Thomas said, and the two pairs walked away from the too-quiet neighborhood.
Chapter 9: The First Task
It was a short walk to their destination, which was a temple on the outskirts of the city. It was made out of glass that seemed to be opaque when the sunlight touched it. There were no markings carved into the glass, but Thomas thought it hardly needed any. The temple was circular as it reached up to the trees, like a decanter.
The glass doors slid open as they approached, and Thomas felt his heart rate jump. He felt weird, like something sinister was pushing at the back of his brain. It wasn’t a welcome feeling.
“So, you are the humans we were told about,” a male voice said from the front of the temple. Thomas tried to find the source of the voice, but the temple seemed more cavernous on the inside than it did on the outside.
“Hey there, prisoner.”
That voice Thomas remembered very well, and his pulse quickened just hearing it. His eyes became saucers in his head as he looked around rapidly for her.
Then she was just there, standing across the aisle from him. Cynthia was smiling at him, dressed in a blue robe that was a bit tighter than any other of the elven robes. For some reason, Thomas wasn’t surprised.
“Well, hey there ma’am,” Thomas said, “long time no see.”
“Took your merry time getting here,” she replied, moving forward. Without thinking about it, the two embraced, but pulled away almost immediately.
“Well, it was a bit of an adve
nture getting here,” Thomas remarked, ignoring the red rising in his face as he placed a hand on the back of his head.
“So we’ve heard,” the male voice spoke up. Now the voice had an owner, and its owner seemed to be the exact type of elf that Thomas was worried about. He looked down his nose at the two boys with his nose stuck in the air, as if afraid he would smell something distasteful. The effect was not lost on Thomas, who immediately stiffened. The elf was whiter than snow with matching robes draping down to the floor. His eyes were a cold, uninviting blue that made Thomas’ hair stand on end.
“It would deeply sadden us to learn if this was true,” the elf continued.
“Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but who might you be?”
“I am Chancellor Vontanado,” the elf replied, crossing his arms across his chest. Thomas couldn’t tell if this was meant to impress or intimidate, so he chose to treat it as neither.
“Name’s Thomas, Chancellor,” the farm boy said, “and this here is Zach.”
“Zacharias in an old friend to Verdonti,” Chancellor Vontanado replied sternly, “but you are not. I’m afraid I cannot simply allow you to pass into elven lands without any proof of this ‘invasion.’”
“It’s true, sir,” Zach piped up, moving to stand directly beside Thomas. “These things, these wooden monsters, they came like insects. They burned my home to the ground. My family…” Zach broke off as he realized he could go no further without completely breaking down. Privately, Thomas wondered how the other man was keeping it together.
“I understand your plight, Zacharias,” the Chancellor replied in a voice that was not unkind, “but we need to get a full account of what transpired, of what is truly happening over in Lucinda.”
“The Dark Priest.”
It was all Thomas said, but it was all he needed to say. The Chancellor stared at Thomas as if his senses had left him, but Thomas didn’t blink.
“I don’t know if it was the real Dark Priest, but if it wasn’t he has a pretender who’s making a strong case at being a contender. He’s who we have to thank for all of the Others.”
“The… what, sorry?”
The Soul Forge Page 8
