Tellus

by Tyffany Hackett

  “I mean, the whole desert is sand. You could have missed them.” Meryn adjusted the wrap around her hair, copper tendrils slipping free. Sighing heavily, she added, “For you, Nat, I guess I’ll climb the dunes.”

  “So, we don’t know where we’re going? In the desert?” I frowned. “What will we do if we get lost?”

  “Keep going.” Jyn shrugged. “Though I suspect if we get over those, we’ll find what we need.”

  “Oh?” Camion shot him a glance.

  “I would have noticed a line of sand dunes,” he insisted.

  I sighed, falling into step behind him. Sand poured off my boots as we climbed, cascading from under my feet. My cheeks ached. I didn’t relish the burn I was getting. The tip of my nose was visibly red at the center of my vision. But I kept moving.

  Climbing the dunes was a fresh torture all its own. My legs protested, threatening to give out underneath me. Even Jyn and Camion, who were in the best physical shape, were struggling up the sliding sand. Meryn fell once, and halfway up Andimir sat down, breathing heavily, muttering strings of profanities under his breath.

  Eventually, though, we reached the top.

  I froze.

  Jyn was right.

  “Told you,” he said with a smirk.

  Past the dunes, a few dozen feet away, a massive city rose above the sea of endless sand. Even from this distance I could see the shimmering paths of water that traced throughout. My mouth felt like cotton. I pulled a waterskin free, taking a swig before I followed my companions down the dune.

  “Are we safe to approach like this?” I asked.

  Jyn nodded. “They’ll stop us before we get far. Though most people don’t try, and fewer still actually find the city. The Elves can move Eythera across the desert, if they choose. We can only see it when they want us to.”

  “You think they wanted us to find them?” Camion asked.

  “That’s my best guess.”

  The large, multi-level sandstone buildings were smooth and elegant. Most were elaborately carved, or had front entrances held by towering pillars. Sunlight cast the city in a golden glow, reflected in the paths of water. The streams were calm but for the empty boats that ran smooth courses between the buildings. Most of the city seemed silent, unmoving. Fountains decorated the walls and filled the central square. The soft rush of water was melodic.

  As we approached, a pair of Elves stepped out from a door I didn’t see. They were both tall, at least as tall as Jyn, though the man dwarfed him by an inch or so. Despite the bright light of day, they glowed, their skin holding an ethereal tone. I tried to imagine that same aura around Jyn. In my head, the golden light suited him surprisingly well.

  Recognition lit Jyn’s face, breaking my daydream. He tilted his head before dipping to a knee. We followed suit, before he said, “Eárynspieir Tikari Myriani . . . Izoryian Darcassyn Esteilar . . . I did not expect such a formal greeting.”

  “We did not expect you at all, Vaalyjyn,” the woman said, inclining her head.

  I felt a pang of jealousy at the woman’s hair; long, beautiful, and cascading to her waist, her pointed ears peeking between the shiny locks. Her white gown hung loose around her, fluttering in the wind, revealing long slivers of warm golden skin. A belt wrapped her waist, braided leather that almost seemed too plain for her. She smiled at us, her narrow, dark eyes crinkling at the corners—a smile filled with sincerity and welcome. Jyn slowly rose and we mimicked him.

  The man’s brown eyes appraised us curiously, before they settled on Jyn. His black hair was cut close, longer on top and neatly tousled. A crystalline gem sparkled from the lobe of his left ear, his tunic of darkest blue a striking contrast against the dark gold of his skin.

  “It has been many long years since you’ve been anywhere near our halls, Vaalyjyn,” the man said. “And you travel with much different company than you did then.”

  “Your Majesty,” Jyn said, turning to address me, “May I introduce Eárynspieir and Izoryian, Lady and Lord of Eythera.”

  “No royalty?” Andimir asked.

  Eárynspieir turned her eyes on him, appraising. Then she said, “An equivalent, without the elaborate titles. Once, we had a king and queen. Those positions have long been irrelevant here.” She paused, eyeing his locs with curiosity. “You are?”

  “Andimir, My Lady.”

  She studied him for a moment longer before her eyes fell to Meryn. Then widened. “I didn’t realize you left Thrais.”

  Meryn’s brows pinched together, confused. “Have we met?”

  Eárynspieir blinked slowly, then she glanced around the city. Elves had begun to leave their homes, curious about the intruders. Some peered out through curtained windows. The Elf pursed her lips.

  “They didn’t fix—” She shot a nervous glance at Izoryian. “By now she should have had—”

  “We shouldn’t discuss this so”—Izoryian gestured around at the prying eyes—“publicly.”

  “But the humans—”

  He fixed a stern gaze on her, then grabbed my hand. Tingling magic raced up my arm, similar to the feeling I’d had as Jyn’s blood fueled my magic—but stronger. The magic raced through my system, enveloping my entire body in blue, purple, and golden sparkles.

  “You’re glowing,” Camion said softly. A wave of familiarity crept in.

  “Are you satisfied?” Eárynspieir snapped. The Elves around us were staring openly now, their expressions as stunned as my companions. “You’ve made a full spectacle of her and compromised her safety.”

  “Exactly. She may be human, but she’s far more valuable than some stray who got lost on their way to Hexryn.”

  “Izoryian—” Eárynspieir scanned the crowd warily. “What if we’re betrayed by one of our own?”

  “No one will touch her here,” Izoryian said, voice low, the aura around him intensifying. The Elves around us understood the threat and began retreating into their homes. Izoryian opened his hand and the magic faded from my skin.

  “Still.” The Lady of the Elves inclined her head at me, then sighed. Resigned. “We can go to a more private location to discuss this. You can freshen up after, if you’d like?”

  Our group agreed in unison. I couldn’t see where they could possibly host us, though. Besides private dwellings, most of the city seemed to be bustling shops. A sprawling temple rose on the horizon. But there didn’t seem to be any formal halls, palaces, or meeting places.

  Izoryian caught me searching and laughed. “Watch.”

  He gestured toward the fountain in the center square. Eárynspieir reached toward the elaborately carved figure in the center: an Elven woman holding her hand out, a green crystal clasped in her fingers. At the brush of Eárynspieir’s touch, the stone burst into motion, casting dancing green light across the figure. The water stopped, as though it had never been there at all, the fountain now bone dry. A loud rumbling, grinding sound boomed beneath us as the ground began to tremble. Camion stepped closer and scooped my hand into his.

  Then the statue shuddered, sinking below the meticulous sandstone pathways. When the figure was below the surface, the fountain shifted sideways, leaving a gaping hole where the structure had been. Spiraling stairs rose to fill the gap, and Eárynspieir waved a hand over them. Amber lights sparked to life, disappearing around the curve in the stairs.

  “Jyn,” I murmured, motioning him forward. He nudged me with his elbow, inclining his head reassuringly.

  Eárynspieir, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes at us. Then she said, “Jyn? You allow them to use an abbreviation of your formal name?”

  “I prefer it,” he said with a shrug. “Easier on human tongues than Vaalyjyn.”

  She considered, then pursed her lips. “Would you prefer Eáryn to my full name?” she asked me.

  “If there’s no offense to you,” I said. “Our names tend to be much . . . simpler.”

  Eáryn inclined her head. “I see this. And no, there is no offense in this.”

  Her hand lifte
d, gesturing me toward the stairs. The descent was intimidating. Not only because the farther we went, the more trust these Elves were placing in us. The stairs were steep, short. A tumble down these could kill a human. I didn’t shy away from hugging the wall, or tightening my grip on Camion’s hand, who offered me a knowing smile before dropping a step in front of me.

  The small staircase opened into a cavern that sent a small “oh” sliding past my lips. A meticulous pocket had been carved into the earth, holding an almost exact replica of the city above—down to the rivers flowing between the buildings and the towering structures. Lanterns lit our path, containing what appeared to be tiny golden threads of light.

  “Magic,” Jyn said under his breath. “When Elves abandon their power, the Lady and Lord store the strands in jars. If they reject their magic a second time, or don’t return after a couple hundred years, they forfeit their power to whatever purpose the Elves see fit. Lighting the city is one of many ways the strands are used.”

  “So, your magic is somewhere here, in tiny threads?” I asked.

  He frowned. “Yes and no. I can’t lay claim to something I don’t particularly want.”

  I considered. “Having magic isn’t so bad.”

  “I would be stuck in this city forever. Probably the above ground city too. Not many are allowed down here.”

  “Why?” I asked, glancing around.

  “Nobility, the Lord and Lady, those who have made significant contributions to Elven society, they’re the ones who live down here. Along with the scholars, historians, and inventors.”

  “But you’ve been down here before, to know all this?”

  Jyn shifted his weight uncomfortably. “A few times.”

  I didn’t ask. Instead I took a step forward, scanning the city. Deep mahogany boats waited in the channels of water. Reflected in the rippling surface were shimmering, glittering lights. I glanced up and realized that what I saw weren’t lights at all but reflections of the particles embedded into the stone buildings. My mouth fell open.

  “Green goldstone,” Jyn said again, nudging my jaw shut. “Aesthetic, more than anything, though thankfully reflective enough that it’s hard to miss in the poor light down here.”

  “The light isn’t poor, Jyn,” Izoryian smiled. “That glaring sun above is the real problem, but your eyes have grown accustomed to the harshness.” He and Eáryn were beacons of their own kind, their magic lighting them from head to foot. “We should go to the vaults for this talk . . . I don’t want to risk being overheard.”

  “The vaults?” Skepticism colored Jyn’s tone. “There’s nowhere else?”

  “No, Vaalyjyn, not one that will protect us from being overheard,” Eáryn said. Her eyes were locked onto Meryn. “This is too important.”

  Meryn squirmed under the Lady’s scrutiny but looked to Jyn. “Do you trust them?”

  Jyn studied each in turn, then nodded. “For now.”

  His shoulders remained a tight line as he eyed the sword at Izoryian’s hip, and then the magic Eáryn used to beckon a boat toward us. I wondered what he wasn’t saying, why he was so wary. If memories haunted his steps, or fear. He was edgy, though, stepping on my toes more than once when another faintly glowing Elf appeared. Wandering by with curiosity or purpose, I didn’t know.

  Apparently, even Eáryn noticed his fidgeting. “Vaalyjyn, no one will harm your queen down here. What has you so anxious?”

  “The last time I left this city, terrible things happened. I don’t care to relive that trauma.”

  “You won’t,” Izoryian assured.

  Jyn’s brow rose. “And how do you know that, exactly?” When neither of the Elves answered, he added, “Once we’re in the vaults, I have some questions of my own.”

  “Understandably,” Eáryn said.

  She sounded nervous.

  Chapter 31

  I expected a vault to be dark, gloomy. Sequestered. Eythera’s was nothing like that. The room was carved into a stone wall at the very end of the city, but the inside glowed almost as bright as the desert above. Every inch of wall inside contained notches, each groove holding one of thousands of meticulously labeled jars filled with golden threads of Elven magic.

  After we had all filed in, Izoryian closed a large, green goldstone door behind us. A wave of his hand and a dozen locks slid shut, the soft clicks echoing around the chamber.

  “Why do you keep watching me like you think I’m going to erupt?” Meryn faced the Lord and Lady, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Both Elves exchanged a glance, then Eáryn sighed. “Because you just might. They were supposed to have restored your memories before the first Titan was released. Your lack of knowledge is . . . problematic.”

  “Excuse me?” Meryn frowned, taking a step back. “My lack of knowledge? And my memories are fully intact, thanks.”

  “Fully intact?” Izoryian smirked. “So, then, tell me all about Alvar. Please.”

  “The Ancient of Guardianship?” Andimir asked, his brow furrowed.

  Eáryn sighed, lips pressed into a thin line. “I forgot you call them Ancients. No, the Guardian Titan.” She jerked her chin at Meryn. “And one of her dearest friends.”

  My eyes flitted between the two Elves and my friend. She looked bewildered and, more foreignly, a bit terrified. Camion and Jyn wore equally confused expressions. After a moment I said, “I think you need to start from the beginning.”

  “What name are you going by?” Eáryn asked Meryn. After she answered, the Elf continued. “Well, Meryn, if your memories had been properly restored to you this wouldn’t have been such a shock. But I’ll do what I can, and you’ll have to demand they return the rest when you return to Thrais.”

  “Who is this ‘they’ you keep referring to?” Meryn asked, her tone snide. I had to wonder if she meant to sound so harsh.

  “The Thraisian High Priestess, Callithyia, and a girl she enlisted from her priestesses . . . Gemma? Gold?” Izoryian paused. “Sylvr, actually, if memory serves me.”

  Meryn stilled completely. “Tell me what you know.”

  The Lady pursed her lips. “There isn’t much I can say, really. From the beginning, though . . . Meryn isn’t your name. Alvar created an alias for you. A cover.” She glanced at the rest of us, a grin spread over her face. Savoring the suspense.

  “To think,” she said finally, “you’ve been using Nahara as a minor healer.”

  This time the rest of us froze. I glanced up at Jyn out of the corner of my eye, only to see his face fall blank. Pure, utter shock that was likely reflected on my face as well. A weight settled in my stomach.

  “I know the Elves hate humans, but this isn’t funny,” Andimir scowled.

  “We don’t hate humans. Most of us don’t particularly care for you, but this is no joke,” Izoryian said, voice soft. His expression didn’t hold the amusement of the Lady’s. “You know yourself as Meryn. We know you as Nahara.”

  “We’re leaving,” Jyn said, frowning. “You’re not going to deceive them and mess with their minds. If she were Nahara, we would know. She’s been at the palace for more than a decade. She grew up with Natylia.”

  “You wouldn’t know if they took her memories,” Izoryian said patiently. “She wouldn’t remember anything to clue you in.” He looked at Meryn. “What is your preferred magic element? I’d wager fire, yes?”

  She inclined her head reluctantly. “That doesn’t mean—”

  “Have you run into any mythical creatures?” Izoryian asked. “Besides the little creature lurking outside the city that tailed you here, I mean.”

  I glanced at the others. “A creature was tailing us?”

  “A little silver . . . fox creature,” he said patiently. “I’m no historian.”

  The Zylarra had tailed us here? We wouldn’t be able to see her in the direct sunlight . . . what did she want? I glanced at Camion, whose expression was split between confusion and curiosity.

  “A dragon,” Meryn offered quietly. “A dragon st
opped fighting us and let us leave, after kneeling before me. And a dryad, in the Emberlyn Forest. She insisted I could offer her protection runes. That my magic was enough.”

  Eáryn seemed unsurprised. “There aren’t many dragons left, but the ones that remain are likely to be loyal to you. Your heart of fire is kindred to their own, and few other Titans use the element. If any. As to the dryad, the effect is almost the opposite. Your protective magic is stronger because fire is their greatest weakness.”

  I stared at the Elven woman, blinking slowly. Meryn was . . . is . . . Nahara? Meryn, a Titan?

  “You’re . . . you’re sure?” I asked finally.

  “Of course I’m sure, do you take me for a simpleton?” Eáryn frowned.

  “How?” Meryn’s voice was weak. Her chest rose and fell slowly, like she was struggling to breathe properly.

  “Because Myrdin and Alvar took extreme steps to protect you,” Izoryian said quietly. “Let me start from the beginning.” He pressed his fingers together, leveling his gaze onto me. “The Elves have been ensuring arcane magic stayed in the Thraisian royal bloodlines for many, many years. Without having to monitor you constantly, arcana—arcane magic—was the only protection we could offer you against Valdis, when he inevitably came for the one Titan that might actually challenge him.”

  “So, you left me, untrained, with unpredictable magic?” I frowned. “All in the hope that I, or another in my family, might help protect Meryn?”

  “In the hopes that you might protect Nahara. And yes, we took a risk. But we had hoped you would either come to us, or your mother would train you.” He paused when I blanched at the mention. “I’m very sorry for your loss, by the way.” Clearing his throat, he continued, speaking to Meryn. “We hadn’t planned on settling you in Thrais. That was actually Alvar’s decision, a backup plan if things went wrong. I’m not sure if Myrdin had any say in the matter. But Myrdin used some of his magic to reduce your age, to make you appear very young and to slow your aging enough that you wouldn’t race back into your adult body. He made you seem human, though you spent vastly more years as a child. Myrdin truly seemed to believe it would be a long age before Valdis got close to you. Alvar disguised himself too, as your father, and . . . well, long story short, you ended up in Thrais.” He frowned. “Once your memories return, you can fill in the blanks, but I know there was a close call with Valdis at least once or you wouldn’t have ended up at the palace. That was a condition of the backup plan.”