Elders of Eventyr

by Ellias Quinn

  Matil’s heart lifted. Dask gave her an encouraging smile. She faced Dyndal. “Then there’s another reason to find the other Elders as soon as we can.”

  “Oh, very well. It does not have to be a seven-day feast. We can stay for five days.”

  “That’s still too long,” Dask said.

  Dyndal shot him a look. “After being apart from others, it is natural to want to talk and dance and sing with them. But because I am understanding of your point, I propose a simple one-day feast.”

  Matil tugged on the edge of her tunic. “I guess we could stay the night.”

  Covering his mouth, Simmad said, “I can’t believe you two are haggling with an Elder.”

  Dyndal shook his head with exaggerated seriousness. “It is not right, is it?”

  Uro was translating the proceedings to the Eletsol leaders. The tomb-keeper watched and listened closely and even let out a disappointed noise after Uro translated Dyndal’s cut of the feast from seven days to one.

  “Now you must tell me of yourself,” Dyndal said to Khelya. “Alva sometimes fade slowly from history, but I have never before witnessed it with my own eyes.”

  Khelya scuffed her transparent boot against the ground.

  “We were helping her to fade,” Matil said guiltily, “and we did it so often that now she stays faded.”

  “Why do you not end the enchantment?” Dyndal said.

  Khelya gave a short laugh. “I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  She stared at him. “But…sir, I’ve tried.”

  “Obrigi don’t have magic,” Dask said. “Maybe you could tell Matil and me how to fix it.”

  Dyndal knelt so he could talk directly to Dask. “The Obrigi do have magic.”

  Khelya stood completely still.

  “Well, not anymore.” Dask shook his head with impatience. “It’s been a long time since you were around. Things have changed. You’ve changed.”

  “Of course things have changed,” Dyndal said. “However…if your magic alone were shrouding her, you would be able to take it away as easily as you put it in place.”

  Dask lowered his eyes thoughtfully.

  “Er, Lord Dyndal,” Simmad said, “Dask is correct. Obrigi are- are different from all other alva in this regard. In the place of magical skills, they have remarkable physical abilities.”

  Dyndal hopped to his feet and faced Khelya. “Let not your friends speak for you. If I say that you have magic, do you believe me?”

  She looked away, twisting her hands. “I- I believe you, sir.”

  “Aha! No, you do not. There is the problem.”

  “How could I not know I had magic?” she cried. “Why does everyone say we don’t, if we actually do? We lost the blessing, sir. Our magic’s gone.”

  “In the Chivishi,” said Dyndal, “it is written that each kind of alva has power in their own realms. Each kind. Believe what it says, if you do not believe me.” He suddenly gasped and covered his eyes. “Do not tell me that the Chivishi is also lost!”

  “No,” Khelya said quickly. “We still read the Chivishi. Does that…really mean the Obrigi have power, too?”

  Dyndal nodded. “Verily so.”

  Simmad began to stroke his goatee with intensity. Uro had become so absorbed in their conversation that he’d ceased translating. The tomb-keeper tapped on his shoulder.

  “The power that keeps you half-concealed is yours,” Dyndal said. “It is yours to disperse.”

  ‘Mine,’ Khelya mouthed. Out loud, she said, “So, I can…”

  Color and substance slowly began to infuse Khelya, like a mist-veiled dawn entering into full day. Her skin, hair, and clothes became rich and warm. Her outline filled in. She was solid again, and she seemed to stand taller. It was strange to see her blonde hair and kind face so clearly after so long.

  “Khelya!” was all Matil could say.

  “You’ve done it,” Simmad said. “Miss Khelya, you’ve done magic!”

  Dask smiled at Khelya. “I, um…I was wrong. Good work, Khel.”

  Looking down at herself, happiness grew on Khelya’s face. She burst out with a cheer.

  Dyndal raised his fists into the air, seeming to relish in Khelya’s success and the Eletsol crowd’s whispers of awe. Once he lowered his arms, he said, “I suppose the power of the Obrigi is not as noticeable as shadow, light, or water. But that does make it interesting.”

  Khelya gripped her own forearm as if testing out the skin and bones. “I don’t feel magical.”

  “What is her power, exactly?” Simmad said.

  “Obrigi can cause things to happen that otherwise would not,” Dyndal said.

  Dask put a hand to his temple and looked up at Dyndal. “Do you know what the word ‘exactly’ means?”

  As they spoke, a strange dizziness snuck up on Matil. The light over the bier changed to a sickly green, and she wondered if it was all just her. But the others seemed disoriented, too, pausing and looking around slowly. The crowd began to whisper.

  “Do any of you feel a tingling down your back?” Dyndal said.

  Behind the bier, the vague shape of a woman wavered into being among the flowers on the wall. She blended in so well that it was hard to tell what she looked like, but her large, angled eyes of topaz-yellow stood out. They had no pupils, like Dyndal’s eyes, and their shimmering depths were shot with red.

  Dyndal noticed her with a yelp. The Eletsol drummers and the crowd saw her and, yelling a strangely familiar word, they flew back through the tunnel at the end of the chamber, parents dragging their children along. Some of the leaders went with the crowd, while four others, including the tomb-keeper and Uro, stayed by Dyndal.

  From the woman’s mouth erupted a trilling, songbird laugh that ended in a crow-like cackle. She stepped from the wall onto the bier. Her body looked as transparent as Dyndal’s, but it gave off no light. Instead it was like a cloud of smoke, concealing light. Matil had a hard time comprehending what she saw, so she focused on one part of the woman at a time. A full-sleeved, mottled-brown dress cascaded around the woman’s tall, thin figure, the edges strangely hard to pick out. Its rippling folds moved like no fabric could. One moment it covered her feet, but the next it retreated up to her knees.

  The woman raised her head to meet the sunlight and stretched with a yawn, up, up, up, much farther than she should have been able to. Snakelike markings covered her pale, greenish skin, and dark, matted hair fell to her waist. Her hands and feet were scaly talons the same color as her skin. Her face was wide, the nose and mouth flowing together like a snout. Fangs made her big smile dangerous.

  “Do not run, my sweetlings,” the woman breathed, her voice carrying through the chamber. “Kanay…is…here.”

  Chapter 26

  Kings of the Forest

  Kanay was…she was the one Dyndal had loved in the story. Matil’s ears went back. She felt queasy. The way the woman spoke was all wrong.

  “Kanay the Imponderable?” Simmad whispered. He sounded utterly fascinated.

  “Oh, thiffen,” Khelya said.

  Dyndal cleared his throat and moved out in front of Matil. “Go away. You are not welcome in this place.” He couldn’t meet Kanay’s eyes. His bravado was gone.

  “Mmm.” Kanay pursed her mouth with disappointment. “I expected something in the way of: ‘Good morning, dearest. I hope you are sleeping well in that foul demon-pit you can never escape.’ To which I would reply: ‘Love, my love, my cherry blueberry treat…you are hilariously mistaken. Hah! Haha. For the first time, Lord Myrkhar cannot be prevented from shaping Eventyr. Your safeguards have all failed. And unless you are an idiot – with you it is hard to tell – you are aware that when Calo wakes the Heilar, he also wakes the Saikyr.’” A hungry smile spread across her face. “‘As soon as our eyes open, yes, not a moment later…we will break free from
the waning power of our foul demon-pits!’ Anyway, that is what I would have said. Instead I will ask a question. Why am I not welcome, dearest Dyndal?”

  The Eletsol leaders standing between Dyndal and the bier made noises of alarm as Uro translated Kanay’s words to them in hushed tones. They trembled watching the two apparitions. The tomb-keeper looked hopefully to Dyndal, whose eyes were beginning to burn with orange around the edges. Dyndal finally matched Kanay’s gaze. His hands formed fists at his sides.

  “Such a relief,” he said, “my shining star. If our conversation had gone on so, I would be concerned. Not worried, only concerned. But to answer your question, you are not welcome because it is no doubt you are a bad influence. Our young friends here should avoid keeping company with murderous traitors.” He held up a hand. “Murderous traitor? Is that right? Or should I say traitorous murderer?”

  Kanay giggled and then jumped down from the bier to the floor. The four remaining Eletsol backed toward Dyndal while the tall, cloudy Elders stared at each other over the alvas’ heads.

  “I hate it when you make me laugh,” Kanay cooed. “At the present my form does not have any blood, but somehow it still boils.” Her sleeves changed into huge, mangy vulture wings, her taloned arms and legs bent, becoming more animal, and her dress tightened into a green serpent’s body frilled with brown feathers. While she transformed, she floated, wings moving slowly as though treading sap. “Use the first one.” The corners of her mouth stretched along her cheeks. “The second one has too many sssyllablesss.”

  Suddenly she shot forward in the air, extending her claws and passing right through two of the Eletsol – one of the leaders and, standing behind him, the tomb-keeper. They howled in agony as her talons sliced them from chest to stomach. Horrified shouts went up from some of the others in the chamber and Matil, in her shock, couldn’t tell who had cried out. Simmad hit the floor in a dead faint. Uro and the other Eletsol leader, a tain-woman, fumblingly dragged the fallen ones away from the Elders.

  Matil unsheathed her dagger and lowered into a ready stance. Her mind was sharp, at work finding advantages and escapes, but overshadowing all those thoughts was the fear that her knife offered no protection. Letting the darkness of the cavern cover her, she watched her skin fade away. She reached up and held on to Khelya’s hand. Khelya looked down and nodded once, her face white with panic. Matil’s invisibility spread along Khelya’s arm. Dask faded as well. He set his heel against Simmad’s limp shoulder, and the unconscious Sangriga began to disappear.

  Kanay wheeled toward Dyndal. Her eyes were giddy spirals of yellow and red – his were fiery storms of orange and green, and in his hand a long blade of grass appeared. He slashed at her, using it like a sword. Kanay slithered out of the way and sailed through the cavern, showing off with baffling twists and loops. Dyndal, his face hard, moved between Kanay and all of the alva in a protective position.

  “Face me, Kanay,” he said resoundingly. “One of us will banish the other from this place, and I intend to make you the banished.”

  She tittered. “By all the stars and teacups, why would I let you banish me? There is such fun to be had,” her voice became a growl, “here.” She dashed down to the faded alva.

  Though the three alva couldn’t be seen, Kanay hurtled straight toward Khelya. They scrambled in different directions and lost their fading as Kanay swished between them with a mocking laugh. She turned back to them, preparing another attack, but she paused when her feverish eyes landed on Matil.

  Dyndal sliced toward Kanay. She snapped back at him. They danced through the chamber, intent on each other’s movements. Kanay’s tail whipped behind to slap Dyndal, which made him falter long enough for her to hook her tail back and sweep his legs out from under him. His stunned landing made no sound.

  Kanay slithered through the air toward Matil, who stumbled back. The Elder stopped just short of crashing into Matil’s face. Kanay sneered. “So this is the creature – lost by the Book-bearer. Mmm, we’ll have her caught and readied for the dagger in no time at all. Hello, ugly. My name is Kanay. Kanay-Kanee-Kanoo.”

  Matil edged away. She tried to fade, tried to find shadows that would hide her. Each time her terrified mind took hold of them, they slipped away.

  “Rude little thing,” Kanay said. “Say hello back to me!”

  Her throat went dry as Kanay slunk through the air, tongue darting out. The serpent’s open mouth glistened in the low light. Her eyes turned pure black. “I must not touch you, speck. But I can loop around your mind and crush it in my coils. Yes, I can. You will never think again. Is it not small, then, what I ask of you? Simply…s-s-s-sssay hello.”

  “Hello,” Matil said, wincing.

  Kanay gave a screeching laugh. Dyndal pushed himself up with a shake of his head and rushed over to grab her by the tail. He thrust the blade of grass through her body, right between her wings, and she wriggled madly. Holding on, he began to glow like fire. Matil tripped backward onto the ground in an effort to slip away.

  “You mean,” Kanay gasped painfully, “to send me off? But we were all – getting – along – so – well!” The glow enveloped her. She turned and bared her teeth in a savage grin, her body blurring. “Enjoy your last days as kings of the forest, lovey-doves.”

  She washed away, but her voice pulsed around the chamber. “The Saikyr will soon sssucceed you.” And then it, too, whispered into nothingness.

  “She is banished,” Dyndal said. “For now.”

  Simmad sat up, looking dazed. Matil wobbled over to him and Dask and Khelya.

  Dask took Matil by the arm. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded and tried to keep her limbs from trembling.

  The four sign-bearers stared at the nearly empty chamber that Kanay had left behind, as well as the injured Eletsol and the tense, gleaming form of Dyndal.

  One of the Eletsol lay still with a bloodied chest and glassy eyes. Seeing that he was already gone, the others hurriedly knelt to examine the tomb-keeper. Dyndal got on his knees as well.

  A slash across the boy’s chest and stomach oozed blood. He grunted in pain with his eyes pressed shut. His skin, beaded with sweat, looked completely white against the stark redness. Uro spoke rapidly to the woman on the other side of the boy, and the two of them pushed their hands toward each other, palms facing the wound. The skin moved together and crusted over. The two of them sat back, drained, but the boy still whimpered.

  Forehead wrinkled with worry, Dyndal placed his hands on both ends of the wound. It shimmered and the tomb-keeper breathed in relief. The scab flaked off. While the wound healed, leaving a knotty line down the boy’s front, Dyndal grew more vaporous in appearance. He finally pulled his hands away like they were heavy weights and sat with his eyes closed.

  “Lord Dyndal,” Uro said when a moment had passed. “You should not have worn yourself out so.”

  “His splintered bones would have killed him,” Dyndal said in a low voice.

  “But—”

  “I will regain my strength, and he will live.”

  Uro lowered his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Dyndal opened his eyes, which had darkened like roiling storm clouds, and turned slowly to Matil. “We leave…now.”

  “Lord Dyndal!” Uro said.

  “Take me…take my velanach to Ecker’s Brug,” Dyndal said. “Shora is there.”

  Transfixed, Matil nodded once.

  “You will see me again soon, alva. Colthal.” Dyndal closed his eyes again and his body dispersed into a golden mist that drifted to the smooth rock floor. Up on the bier, the pendant flared with light and then fell dark.

  * * *

  Khelya carried the boy tomb-keeper down the tunnel. The injury had taken a toll on his strength, and he slept. Uro and the tain-woman hobbled beside her while Dask, Simmad, and Matil trailed behind, Simmad slowly regaining color in
his face. Matil carried Dyndal’s pendant with two hands, watching it warily.

  “Dyndal will remain a secret with us,” Uro said. “But the enemy will look for you. I can show you the most fast way out, and then…please hurry to Shora.” His eyebrows uncovered his eyes as he looked up. “Praise the ancestors. Will we truly witness a second Age of Elders?”

  They came to the entrance cavern, where the Eletsol clans were gathered. Guarding the way was a huge formation of fighting men. Some stood while many hovered in the tunnel mouth, peering into the darkness. Uro shouted to them, and the men in the center came forward to help with the wounded boy. Several flew down the tunnel to retrieve the dead from Dyndal’s chamber.

  Matil and the others passed through the army, hundreds of warriors stepping aside to let them in. Most of the Eletsol had seen Dyndal and Kanay, and it seemed they were preparing to fend off the Saikyr. Fearful alva speaking Eleti came up to surround the weary bunch. The tain-woman addressed the crowd. Uro gave orders to a few nearby alva.

  An Eletsol led up Dewdrop and Olnar, and began to tie supplies to their harnesses. Matil rubbed Olnar’s antennae, who took the affection stoically, and hugged Dewdrop’s hard head. Dewdrop ran her antennae along Matil’s back and arms. Strange, wonderful, and horrible things had happened today, and for a moment Matil clung to Dewdrop like the beetle was a stick that would save her from drowning.

  Dask came over to pat Olnar’s shell. “We’re waking up the Elders, boy.” He sighed. “I’m still trying to wake myself up.”

  Matil looked at him curiously. “I guess…now we know the Elders are real.”

  “Well, we’ve seen a couple of magical spirits. That doesn’t mean a whole flock of wish-granting Elders is out there.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But it’s great if we can find a way to stop Nychta. And I believe you now. I’m sorry for…you know, when you saw Mr. Korsen the first time. I’m sorry for saying you didn’t see him.”

  She smiled up at him and let go of Dewdrop. It was time to leave.