by Linn Tesli
The ground shook. Georganna was furious, and all of Sonûdor suffered beneath her wrath. Sol’s requests had not been appreciated, and when Sol told her followers, their rage seemed to match Georganna’s.
”Let it go,” Sol cried.
”I’m an Elemental,” Georganna howled. ”I cannot simply hand you my throne, even if I wanted to do so. Aradria would be crippled at best.” Georganna cast her arms out, roots shooting up from the earth to fend off the oncoming mob.
Sol drew her sword, cutting through the vines and roots to move closer to her sister. ”Step down, or you’ll not see tomorrow. Please!”
The tears streaming down Georganna’s face betrayed the sadness behind her anger. Sol knew she wouldn’t listen, not even to save her own life.
A band of Jotters hammered away on a large root obscuring their path. Their axes cut through the thicket, again and again, allowing them to move closer and closer to their target. Georganna couldn’t keep them all at bay. The Woodlings were gearing up, but they were no fighters and had not been prepared for what was coming.
”Please,” Sol yelled as the band of Jotters threw themselves at Georganna, pinning her limbs to the soil.
”I’m so sorry,” Sol whispered as one of the Jotters forced Georganna’s mouth open, pouring the liquid from a vial down her throat. Another Jotter placed a totem of elemental creatures in the ground at her feet.
”Say the words,” Nimry called.
Sol hesitated. She had made a promise, however, and she had to see this through. Despite her reservations, she began her chant, and the earth finally stilled as Georganna’s powers were bound.
The Woodlings couldn’t hold back the enemy, though few were mortally wounded. They were not the prize of this battle.
A shrieking choir of victorious voices rolled through the air as Georganna was lifted to the highest point of the massive white roots surrounding the Mother Tree. An Earthling tied Georganna to the totem, while another held up a lit torch. What were they doing? They had won. It hit Sol like a heap of rocks landing in her belly. No!
”Stop this,” she screamed, scrambling forward.
The second Earthling slid the torch down the totem, Georganna’s dress the first thing to catch fire. It was the Earthling way. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to have gone.
At the sight of their burning queen, the Woodlings on the ground got to their feet, running for the fire, which their kin were so scared of. The cries of victory blended with the sobs of loss and despair.
Something made the ground shake, though not like it had before. It thundered underneath the feet of an oncoming force. Sol turned. A throng of Èlèonas appeared through the trees. The Guardians of Sonûdor were too late to save their queen. It didn’t mean they wouldn’t avenge her.
”Come on.” Ragnar slid a hand around Sol’s waist, lifting her into his arms. ”We can’t stay here.” He ran with ease, but quickly, and the Earthlings that had followed Sol sprinted after them.
She finally allowed herself to cry. The tears sprang from her eyes as she buried her head in Ragnar’s chest.
What had she done?
The fight had lasted for weeks, even after Georganna had turned to nothing but ashes in the wind. The walls of Bermunnos finally loomed around them. There was nothing left for the Earthlings on the outside of those walls.
”The Chasm will serve us well,” Ragnar had said.
He was right. The Chasm was a fortress, and the Earthlings were skilled enough to make it habitable with time, though nothing grew within these walls. They would need to do something about that.
”I can’t breathe.” Sol clasped a hand around her throat, recalling the memory of her burning sister.
”It’s over now.” Ragnar stroked a hand over her hair. ”The outside villages are gone. Sonûdor is done with their vengeance and the new king has given us neutrality for our victory. It’s time for us to build a new life.”
Victory? ”I never wanted…”
Ragnar placed a finger over her lips, kissing her forehead. ”Bermunnos will be our home, and we will mend these wounds.”
She stared at the magnificent Earthling, his breath folding over her face. She would follow him anywhere.
”I want to change,” Sol said.
”We all change.”
Someone appeared from the darkness of the earth. No one knew how deep the abyss between the two sides of Bermunnos was, but someone had managed to find their way out through the depths. If nothing else, it was proof that the abyss did have an end to it.
Ragnar drew his sword. ”Speak your name,” he said.
”Oh, simmer,” the elf said.
”Gaija?” Sol asked. ”What in Aradria are you doing here?” The two women knew each other well. Gaija and Georganna had been close. Whatever the shaman was there for, it made Sol jittery. ”I think you should leave.”
”Oh, I will. Once my task is done.” Gaija unwrapped a bundle around her chest, revealing a small head of golden curls. ”You never got to meet your nephew,” she said. ”Now, you’ll have the chance to know him better than anyone.”
An Earthling boy, only a few moons old, turned his head at Sol as Gaija released him fully.
Sol shook her head. ”You trust him with me?”
”Your sister is dead, and I’m sorry. I don’t believe you would want to erase your entire bloodline, however. Birken will be yours to protect—she named him after the white birches of Sonûdor—and you had better do your job right. You owe him as much.”
Gaija was right, though Sol could never redeem her crimes even if she did manage the responsibility Gaija was placing on her. However, it was only right that Birken should be here. Sol crouched down and reached out to the boy. He tugged at Gaija’s cloak for a bit, then staggered towards Sol. He tripped, and Sol caught him in her arms. The smell of wet soil and fresh flowers clung to his skin. He smelled of his mother. A tear crept away from the brim of Sol’s eye, and the boy caught her tear with the tip of his finger, stroking it down her cheek. Then he smiled.
”Nice to meet you, Birken,” Sol said, feeling Ragnar’s strong hands on her shoulders. ”Welcome home.”
12
FIRE BORN
- Kenith -
”All set,” Gaija called. She strode down the gangway and onto the freshly built jetty in Blanchess bay. A haversack swung from her arm as she entered the wood flooring. The Êvinians had done such an excellent job with the western docks that there were hardly any traces of the battle left. The jetty had been sanded down and scrubbed before it had been coated with a mix of tar and linseed oil, which made it glint as it bathed in the light from the rising sun. The smell of salt and seaweed was refreshing after so many days spent behind castle walls.
Kenith glanced over his shoulders at the Êblazons who had accompanied him and Niila to meet Gaija at the docks. They sat on large ivory-colored horses. Niila and Kenith’s horses stood grazing next to them.
”We’re on the west coast,” he whispered to Niila. ”No one here is going to hurt me. They like us here.”
Niila frowned. ”You should be thankful for the protection. You won’t have them once we leave this land, and you should know as well as I that we might never be safe anywhere in Aradria.”
A hooded figure rode across the path behind the Spirit guards. The stranger slowed. It appeared to be looking at Kenith, though he could not see its face. Then the figure pointed with an arrow towards Avionnè before it galloped off. The fire stirred in Kenith’s bones. He had a sudden urge to follow the stranger.
Gaija skipped forward and bumped Kenith’s shoulder, forcing him to redirect his attention. ”The Wy-Alfen-Nayaneth sends good tidings and wishes to the rising monarchs.”
”The water elves!” Niila’s face lit up.
“"You have elves supporting you on both sides of Aradria, younglings.”
”That’s great news,” Niila said.
”I don’t suppose you brought an army of elves back with you, though?”
Kenith kicked at a bucket, spilling remnants of oil onto the jetty.
Gaija cocked her head. ”They have no business going to Lycobris, though when the time comes, I think Niila should visit them. They said you’re welcome any time.”
”It would be my honor.” Niila smiled from ear to ear.
Kenith sighed. If only he could make Niila smile like that when they were talking about his homeland. That was one thing that might never come to pass, however. Niila was bound to the water as much as he was with fire. His connection to the element was as strong as Niila’s, though fire never filled him with the same joy water did her. Fire was exhilarating, energetic, full of passion, and even a little dark, though never joyous.
”Did you find what you were looking for?” Kenith asked the shaman. It had taken her nearly two weeks to return, and she had yet to share what she had left for in the first place.
”I said I would, did I not? Did you find us a way of transportation?”
”We can’t board just any ship…” Niila intervened. ”And flying is definitely out of the question with a dragon roaming the skies over Lycobris.”
Kenith sat cross-legged on the jetty and blew a few strands of hair away from his eyes.
”We first thought of Niila’s pa.” He dipped his toes into the water. It was as cool as touching Niila’s skin. ”He said we could borrow both him and his ships whenever we wanted.”
”Silly boy,” Gaija tutted. ”You can’t sail into Arvaex with an Ûndan naval ship. Though Niam is a fine choice for captain.”
”I appreciate the insight. We actually reached that same conclusion ourselves. Ayva has procured us an Êvinian merchant ship. Niam is in charge, and we’re bringing as few men as possible. All of whom Niam has vouched for.”
”That will do.”
”It will only get us so far. What happens when we get there?” Kenith crossed his arms. The bounty on his head had been issued in Lycobris, after all. He had to go back, yet it felt like walking willingly into his doom. It was foolish to think he could get to Elfen Lyconis unseen.
Gaija winked. ”Don’t mind your Elemental head. Let me worry about that. I’ll show you soon enough.” She shifted her gaze around the busy harbor. ”Though this is not the place.” The shaman clutched the haversack in her hands and walked off.
Unseen or not, it was going to be his greatest challenge yet. Also, Niila would be caught in the crossfire. Kenith stood and took Niila’s hands as they walked back to their guards and horses.
”You should stay here until we know it’s safe. Gaija will help me, and she says the wild elves are surely on my side.”
Niila squeezed his hands and leaned in. ”Not happening. I know you’re concerned, but we’re both Elementals. If anyone should be scared it’s those who cross our path, not the other way around. Besides, young Prince of Fire…” Niila giggled. ”I want to meet your dragon.”
Dragon. Kenith felt his heart expand at the thought. The dragon was always present in him now. It was both comforting and hurtful. It stung and the fire twisted inside him. What the Old King of Fire had done to Fyrax had left its mark. The connection was there but it felt wrong, and he was sure it would be amazing once they reconnected with one another. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to have a dragon on your side, mad or not. He had to convince Fyrax that the side to be on was with him. Also, the dragon was supposed to be crazy. It was as unimaginable as most things he had experienced in the past year. Yet they had prevailed, even when all odds were against them. This time, however, they would be divided, which made them more vulnerable. Kenith slid his arm around Niila’s waist.
”Let’s stop in Avionnè for a drink.”
”We really should not.”
”We should. Will you deny me this last day of freedom?”
Niila exhaled slowly. The freckles on her cheeks had multiplied after a few weeks of warmth and sunlight. She looked more beautiful than ever.
”I guess. One drink, then we head back and prepare to leave.”
”Agreed.” Kenith kissed her forehead, and they mounted the horses that stood beside the Êblazons. ”I’ll race you. Last one there buys.” He kicked his feet, and the horse sped forward. Niila wasn’t far behind, and soon she and her horse were ahead of Kenith. Her laugh danced through the air. It reminded him of the way a choir of birds greeted the sun in the morning. Like they hadn’t a care in Aradria.
Kenith let go of the reins, stretching his arms to the side, and allowed the wind to rush over his face. They finally hit the cobbled streets of Avionnè. The first few houses bore traces of the devastation the town had witnessed. Niila slowed her horse to a trot a few paces ahead, and Kenith did the same. The street was crowded with people. Stonemasons and builders, blacksmiths and even a bunch of children were all working to restore the town to its former glory. They still made time to wave and bow as the Elementals rode past.
Kenith caught up with Niila.
”Have we done enough to help these people?” Niila asked.
”Yes,” Kenith said. ”Ayva takes care of her land.”
Niila sighed. ”I know she does. It’s just that we left so much destruction in our path when we challenged the Heartless King.”
”You forget, these people had a hard time long before we got here. At least now they have food and tools, and a monarch who wants what is best for them, not one who only wants what is best for him.”
Niila pulled on the reins, and her horse stopped. She slid out of the saddle. ”You’re buying.” She smiled.
The tavern in front of them had a freshly made sign above the entrance that read ‘The Spirit Well’. It would be as good a place as any for a drink.
”We arrived at the same time,” Kenith said.
”Yes, but you have yet to get down from your horse. So I win.”
She was right, as always. The Êblazons caught up with them, and Kenith grimaced. The Spirit guards were hard to shake. Once all the horses were secured outside, the group walked into the tavern.
Big laughs and bright music filled the room. The familiar smell of ale was doused by the scent of tar and sawdust that seemed to be everywhere these days. It was pleasant but strange in a tavern this old. Though most of the surfaces had been repaired, it looked like the keeper of the place had kept as much as he could of the old building components, including the white wood furniture. It made for an odd mix.
A Siren with pale lavender-colored hair was singing on a small stage at the back of the room. Kenith instinctively reached for his ears to cover them while searching the clientele for any signs of manipulation by the song. The large group of Êvinians were cheerful but showed no signs of wanting to throw themselves at the Siren.
Niila grabbed his hands, pulling them down. ”That Siren must be very old,” she whispered. ”Not many of them know how to control their voice enough not to affect anyone. It’s perfectly safe to listen, not to mention beautiful.”
What was to stop the Siren from turning on her charms? Kenith thought. However, if Niila approved, he wasn’t about to argue. She was to be the queen of the Sirens, and all things west of Êvina. She probably knew much better than him what a Siren could or could not do.
The group of Êvinians clapped and cheered as one song ended and another began.
”There.” Niila pointed at an empty table by a window. Kenith sent the Êblazons to fetch drinks and they walked over to sit, occupying the last free table. The rest of the tables had at least three or more people around it, except for one. A figure sat in the shadows about two tables behind Niila.
It was the same figure Kenith had seen before. Whoever it was had broad shoulders, and even sitting, he had to be a lot taller than any man, which made him hard to miss, even if he was trying not to stand out.
Kenith leaned toward Niila. ”See that man back there?”
Niila glanced over her shoulder. ”How do you know it’s a man? The face is hidden under that hood.”
”Not many women have a build like that. Besides, he must be a
hunter, by the looks of that bow.” Kenith gaped. The longbow leaning on the stranger’s table was engraved with what looked like old Aradrian lettering. Kenith couldn’t read what it said.
”That is old Arvish!” Niila’s eyes widened. ”When the keeper is dead, the dragon will fly again.”
”What?”
”That’s what the engraving says. I don’t think that’s a man at all. At least, not a human one.” Niila adjusted the leather bindings around her top. ”We should say hi.”
”Why?”
”I want to know which one of us is right.”
”He… or she… looks like they want to be alone.”
”They are in a tavern. Not the place to go if you don’t wish for company.”
Niila took Kenith’s wrist and bounced out of her chair. He had no choice but to follow her. He always seemed to be following her somewhere.
”Pardon me,” Niila said, placing herself on the opposite side of the table from the stranger.
”I don’t,” the stranger replied with a husky voice that sounded awfully familiar. ”I smell fire and water.” The stranger stood. The hood fell back, revealing her dark complexion and pointed ears. She put her hands on her straight hips. Or was it a he? Kenith wasn’t sure but decided the tall elf had to be female.
Niila folded her hands on the table. ”I’m so sorry we disturbed you, but you were all alone and made us, well, mostly me, curious. And now that I see you, I’m wondering if this is the best land for a wild elf to visit these days?”
As always, Niila spoke before thinking. Kenith loved her for it, though it often got her in trouble.
The laughs stilled, and the Siren stopped singing.
”I think we should all sit back down,” Kenith said under his breath.
The elf shifted her gaze around and nodded. She sat, and the room slowly grew louder again as people returned to their own business.
”I’m Niila.” Niila stuck her hand forward. ”And this is Kenith, fire born and rightful heir to the Elemental throne of Lycobris.”