Both of them used natural materials, but elven cottages took it to an extreme – everything was made from wood, hay or reeds. Even the windows didn’t seem to be made from normal glass, for they didn’t reflect the light of a sun as normal window would.
Besides that, they were all single storey, as opposed to the multi-storey constructions of Arachadia, and they were by no means squashed together.
Linaera expected Deriën to be somewhere in front of her, but instead, she had to wait a few moments while he caught up from behind.
“You move fast for a human,” he panted.
“And you move slow for an elf,” Linaera retorted.
He laughed. I guess he does have a sense of humour after all. For a brief second, Linaera was entranced by the way laughter changed his face; gone were the hard, arrogant lines, replaced by someone more… friendly. Happy.
Her attention was ripped away from him however, when someone asked:
“Who are you?”
Linaera looked down to see a small, elven child. Her eyes were a chestnut brown, remarkably intense. Her hair was like the acorns that would cover the forest in autumn, and she was as fragile as glass (the normal Arachadian type).
“Where is your mother, little one?” Deriën asked her.
“Here,” somebody said. Linaera turned her head; the woman speaking was like a copy of the child below, only taller. And much more menacing.
“Come here Eriéne.”
The girl looked confused for a few moments.
“Bye bye,” she said, much to the mother’s obvious irritation.
“You should keep more control over your charges, Hunter,” the mother commented as she practically dragged her daughter into one of the houses.
“Hunter?” Linaera asked.
“Elves can have different professions. Most become healers or magic-wielders, or else forest carers. Some of us choose to develop our fighting skills instead – we’re referred to as ‘Hunters’.”
“Huh. Why are they so afraid of me, anyway?”
“You have to understand that we do not receive many visitors here, especially human visitors.”
“I’m hurt.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll get over it,” Deriën told her as he moved ahead, past the now seemingly deserted village.
Linaera followed him.
“How long are we going to be hiking before we get to the Council?” Linaera asked him.
“The council resides at our largest city – Aláthelia. It shouldn’t be more than a days walk from here, assuming you can keep up.”
Linaera showed him her tongue.
“Anyway, Gadalthal should be meeting us soon.”
“Gadalthal?”
“One of my eh… friends.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“Well, I consider him my friend, although he’s always wanted me to be a little more.”
Linaera frowned, confused.
“You mean as he would a woman?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“I personally find women to be more to my taste, unlike many of my brethren elves, who simply do not care. That said however, it isn’t the reason why I keep denying him – certainly, it would be an interesting experience.”
“What is then?”
“I don’t know. I guess… I’m just expecting someone to come by. Someone different.”
Their conversation was interrupted when someone said:
“Hallo, Deriën! What pretty little bird have you got there?”
Linaera turned around to see the owner of the voice – a young male, one who obviously had too many hormones growing up, since he towered over Linaera – and Linaera was not a small person. His eyes were bright with an analytical sort of intelligence, his features sharp and pronounced, and his hair wavy blond.
Right now, he was looking at Linaera in a way that made her blush all the way to her toes.
“Her name is Linaera, Gadalthal. And no, she won’t take up bed with you, she’s human,” Deriën said, sounding exasperated.
“Human? I’m sure she’ll be a whole bucket of fun!”
Deriën sighed.
“As I was telling you Linaera, you should stay away from the guy. I hear that his partners don’t last more than a month.”
“A month of incredible, unbelievable, out-of-this world sex, you mean?”
If it was possible, Linaera blushed even more.
“Well I’m sorry, Gadalthal, but I’m not interested,” Linaera told him. His smile didn’t waver.
“Well Der, it seems you told her about me. Trying to get rid of me?”
“Oh back off Gadalthal!” Deriën told him, now annoyed.
Gadalthal just laughed, a remarkably care-free sound.
“Sure thing, Der. Now, my squeamish friend here tells me you are in possession of a priceless faerie jewel?”
Linaera fetched the jewel out of her bag. As usual, it was met with awe from the elves.
“That’s some jewel,” Gadalthal commented.
“Tell me about it.”
“No wonder Deriën thinks the council would like to see it. I’m pretty curious myself.”
“What exactly is the council?” Linaera asked.
Deriën butted in.
“You can talk it up with Gadalthal, but let’s move; we’ve only got a few hours of daylight left, and then it’ll be dark. I doubt you can see very well in the dark, especially if there are clouds. I also doubt any of the elves would let you into their homes. So move!” He began walking rapidly ahead, leaving the two to catch up.
“Why is he so…”
“Annoying? Or were you referring to the fact that he doesn’t want to talk to us? If the latter, it’s just because he doesn’t like politics. He always preferred magic or bows to small words. I’m the one with the words.”
“So anyway…” Linaera prompted him.
“Oh yeah, the council. Basically, there are these Elders that the villagers elect every decade—”
“He told me that.”
“—and they often make some weird decisions. Fortunately, the people who they are supposed to be leading know better than them, so it all works out. Now, the council is comprised of several Elders, but it can be split up into two sections; the free-thinkers and the elf-thinkers.”
“What’s the difference between them?” Linaera asked. She hoped he could explain it succinctly, since it seemed that it really was getting dark. The birds had stopped singing, and the red light from the setting sun gave the snow a reddish tinge. A bit like the snow around John when he died… No, don’t go there.
Gadalthal didn’t seem to notice.
“The free-thinkers believe that we should be more friendly towards outsiders. Some even suggest we should make communities outside the forests. The elf-thinkers are the opposite; they believe that all outsiders are aggressive, violent brutes who cannot be reasoned with. You can tell which ones are going to be for and against your cause.”
“How dominant are the ‘free-thinkers’?”
“Sixty-forty, I roughly estimate.”
“So I’m good, right?”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Prejudices run deep, even in the ones who claim they are tolerant.”
Linaera pondered his words as they continued travelling over the forest floor.
Soon however, she began to notice noise. It was a very odd noise in the forest; almost like… music.
Then she saw fires, and suddenly the forest opened up into what Linaera presumed was Aláthelia.
It was what Linaera had expected, but impressive all the same.
It was arranged in a concentric model; Linaera could see that even in the vague light of the fires. In the middle, there were two and even three storey buildings, all with wooden balconies overlooking the rest of the city. Around it, there were collections of buildings, most of them around the same size. Houses. Curiously, there were no areas for marketplaces to be seen.
Deriën waited for them as they caught up. There were no gates or visible entry points; they simply walked into one the main roads.
“What do I do now?” Linaera asked.
“I believe I can help with that,” a voice from the darkness said. It was deep and ancient, unusual for an elf.
Linaera turned to see a tall male figure come from the shadows. He wore unusual clothing; whereas Deriën and Gadalthal were wearing simple green trousers and shirts, complete with cloaks, this man was wearing a long robe, that was brown.
His facial features were harder, and his bones more prominent; Linaera guessed this was the effect of age on elves. His eyes were dark brown, and filled with a kindly intelligence. And power. This elf was stronger than even a high-ranking mage; Linaera could feel the power seeping out of him.
Yet she was not afraid of this person.
“Hi, are you an Elder? I’m Linaera.”
“Oh, they’ve told you about us already? Excellent. Saves me some explaining. Good manners too.”
Deriën looked rather nervous.
“Linaera, this is—”
“Gétris, thank you Deriën. I may be old even by elven standards, but I have not forgotten my manners you know.”
“Yes, master.”
“Oh do save it, boy. You don’t always have to refer to me formally, especially not in front of your friend and this girl.”
“Boy?” Linaera echoed.
Deriën looked sheepish, if such a thing were possible.
“Linaera, Gétris was my mentor until recently. I am considered young, even though I am twenty-five summers now.”
Linaera filed away this surprising new development.
Gadalthal joined in.
“In any case, Linaera, I shall accompany you to the guest lodgings and prepare everything. Don’t worry about us; we won’t be doing anything until tomorrow. Until then, have you ever heard of the elven Midwinter Festival?”
Beside her, Deriën groaned.
“No, I have not.”
Gétris smiled.
“Then you will soon.”
THIRTY
“What will you argue, Gétris?”
“I have every intention of keeping this girl – Linaera, you say? – within the elven land,” Gétris replied as he walked towards his chambers.
“Are you sure? Do you really think endangering our society is worth it for one girl?”
“The necromancer is a real threat, Deriën; I will not let that girl be exposed to him another time, especially now that he’s angered by her disappearance. Also, I truly doubt you mean what you say – I’ve known you long enough: you wouldn’t have helped her if you truly believed she was a threat. You’re too duty-bound.”
Deriën opened his mouth to argue, but Gétris cut him off.
“Enough with this argument. I will argue as I wish, being an Elder. Why don’t you just let us take care of it and go enjoy the festival?”
“You know how much I enjoy the Midwinter Festival,” Deriën replied, his sarcasm biting.
“Perhaps you may learn not to be so squeamish. It really isn’t befitting of an elf, especially one that aims to be a top Hunter.” With that, Gétris left Deriën to his own inner demons.
Reluctantly, Deriën admitted defeat. He would go to the festival – he just hoped he wouldn’t end up nearly skewering someone after he became drunk the last time.
Music could be heard in the background; slow and rhythmical drums, accompanied by the more melodious harps and pan-pipes played by the more artistic of the elves.
Darkness had fallen; Deriën walked slowly, heading towards the direction of the main fire. The Midwinter Festival was unusual in that the celebrations often occurred in several parts of the city: the elves moved freely between them, enjoying whatever activity suited them best.
An angry orange glow illuminated the night as the main fire cackled and spit. The music was currently slow and relaxing, the festival having only just started.
He spotted Nemphris – one of the older elves, who was friendly to Deriën – sitting by the fire, telling his stories. They were a topic of great amusement for the younger ones, even though he regularly repeated them. He was about to pass through when he spotted Linaera sitting next to him, avidly listening to his words.
Why is the human interested in his stories? Deriën wondered. He decided to stop by and listen in.
Nemphris was a very good storyteller, but this was one story Deriën hadn’t heard…
“Our guest, Linaera, has asked me to tell the origin of the fae and the elves.
“This is a complex topic, filled with much-forgotten history that has blurred even for us elves, and one that is further confused by the various conflicting political agendas of leaders over the centuries.
“However, I am old and still remember my history. Although I make no claims to having a full-proof recount of the past as it happened, I can still give you an outline of what was going on.”
Deriën saddled next to him, earning him a quick smile. He and Nemphris had gotten along well when Deriën was small, and he still felt a lot of friendship for the old man. Opposite him, Linaera gave him a glare. Deriën didn’t understand what he had done wrong, so he simply waved. She frowned.
“Our story begins with the fae, of course.” Deriën began to listen.
“The fae are many things, and their origin has been much disputed. However, in our limited interaction with them, we have made the conclusion that they are a race of elemental beings – as are we, to a degree.
“What does this mean? It means that as we are to the trees, flowers and animals of this forest, so are the fae to the natural elements. They can move with sudden, twisting speed and fly without tiring. They can call up terrible thunderstorms to slay their enemies or else burn them into oblivion.
“Because of their nature, there come certain disadvantages. We elves are repelled by the metals of this world, particularly copper – in fact, our bodies do not contain copper, unlike the humans’. However, the fae are outright injured by metal. The touch of cold copper on a faeries’ skin causes cold, biting pain, while continuous exposure can render them helpless or even kill them.” There were murmurs as the group dissected this new information.
Deriën noticed Linaera had suddenly become attentive – it seemed such things interested her. Deriën had thought humans were self-centred, but perhaps he had been mistaken.
“The fae are frivolous, highly honour-bound, and very slippery. This is not so dissimilar to our own nature.
“However, the fae have far less regard for life, and operate on a very different moral code, which is why they can be dangerous.
“In any case, the great thinkers believe that the fae and us elves are related from a common ancestor.”
This was met with silence, but it was rapt rather than disagreeing.
“The fae were not originally of this world; they still aren’t. The fae are rumoured to inhabit the aptly named Fae, a world parallel but separate from our own. Very few have been to Fae: the ones who do generally don’t come back.
“In our meditations and experiences with Fae, we do know that it is a beautiful but wild place, populated with creatures almost as dangerous as the fae, creatures we have never come into contact with.
“We – the elves and the fae, that is – both originated from Fae. However, for reasons not clearly understood, but most likely due to expulsion and violence within the faerie realm, some of the faeries left Fae and instead settled in and around the area now known as Arachadia by the humans, or the New World by some of our Elders.”
There was gasps of surprise and interest as Nemphris paused to sip at his tea. Deriën still thought it remarkable that he could instil such attention with such a festival going on around him, but that was Nemphris.
It was Linaera who voiced the first question.
“How did the ostracised faeries alter to become elves?”
“Ah, you’ve just asked the next part of my story.
“The fae had no regents to protect them, and Arachadia at the time was a desolate place with no humans around. The animals were vicious and untameable, and hunting them would have resulted in too much effort for what they awarded.
“Instead, the fae did they only thing they could: migrate to the forests, where there were fewer predators and more food, for the fae must eat when they are in this realm.
“Over time, our ancestors adapted to their new environment, forming a connection through their consciousness. They became attuned to it. We can communicate with all living beings – as Linaera can understand as right now—” Curious glances were darted at her.
“—as well as control certain plants and animals to our will. We can order vines around, which is how we built the taller buildings without the use of stone, metal or even heavy logs. You are all aware of your many abilities.” He stopped.
A smile was given to the younger elves’ eager bright faces, as well as the older human and the melancholy elf.
“Now, don’t go blathering about this to your parents. I can assure you that the truth would offend the niceties of many older elves, who would prefer dogma in their refusal to think we descended from another species.”
The younger elves scattered, but Linaera and Deriën still remained.
“Were there any great leaders of the elves or were they always this… democratic,” Linaera asked Nemphris.
“Oh there were some, definitely. However, don’t you think you are better off enjoying the festival than talking with an old man and his stories? Here, I’m sure my good friend Deriën will be happy to help you.” Nemphris gave Deriën a pointed glance.
Linaera threw Deriën a scathing look.
Nemphris just laughed.
“Good luck, Deriën.”
***
An elf came by and offered Linaera a drink. Linaera, foolishly, opted to take it.
“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you, human,” Deriën told her.
“And pray tell, what would happen if I did? Turn into a toad?”
“No, but elven drinks are notoriously powerful. Even elves don’t take it lightly.”
For some reason, this seemed to amuse Linaera.
The Necromancer: New Edition: Republished 2016 Page 24