The Awakening

by Gary Alan Wassner

  Clovis too sat on his stallion, proud and tall. His long brown hair was fastened in the back with a brooch of silver. A heavy blade of dark metal hung at his side and a long bow and quiver was draped over his shoulder. His leather jerkin made his chest appear to be broader than it actually was, and his studded brown gloves added a formidable note to his ensemble.

  “Are we ready to leave, Princess?” he asked her in his deep, melodious voice.

  “Almost, Clovis. Giles should be here momentarily. I wonder what’’s keeping him,” she said, almost to herself.

  “I am anxious to be off before the sun comes fully up. The weather is fine for traveling now and the sky seems to be clear. Who knows what the afternoon will bring.”

  Alemar glanced up at the tower gate through the haze. The air was cold, as usual, but it was damper than it ordinarily was. She felt the moisture upon her skin. Even though the spring was well upon them, Eleutheria always remained icy cold. Nothing ever melted, fortunately, for them all. The city was carved out of the giant ice blocks that had stood there for a thousand tiels, and it thrived upon the freezing temperatures. The elves used the reflective ability of the ice in an ingenious manner to channel the sun’s energy and to heat their homes and the city itself, while still not damaging the foundations.

  She looked up at the glittering towers, always astounded by the sheer beauty of the city. In fact, she could imagine no other place in the world that could possibly be as magnificent as Eleutheria. Her eyes moistened with emotion and her chest swelled with pride. Today though, something bothered her about the feel of the air and she could not quite put her finger upon it. It was different than normal somehow. But her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the movement she saw in the distance.

  “I see Giles approaching now,” she said to Clovis, pointing to the ice wall to the north. “We can leave shortly.”

  “Very well, my Lady,” he replied, as he turned his horse to watch his friend approach.

  A large, white stallion cantered over the snowy ridge and pulled up to them abruptly, rearing high as it came to a dramatic halt.

  “Weeho, my friends,” the big elf said. “I am sorry I have delayed you. It was not intentional,” he said, and he bowed ceremoniously in his saddle to the other two.

  “Let us be off, then,” Alemar remarked, eager to be on her way. “Have you brought all that we asked you to?” she questioned.

  “Certainly, my Lady. In fact, had it not been for the dried sturgeon, I would have been here a long time ago. The market was still closed and the fishmonger did not want to rise from his comfortable bed to serve me. I had to wait.”

  “We need supplies that will not spoil, nevertheless. It has not been that long. We will make the time up on the trail,” she replied, spurring her beautiful horse forward gently.

  Giles removed his cap, stuffed it into his saddlebag and ruffled his short, blonde hair. He raised his nose to the air and drew a full, deep breath.

  “Damp this morning, is it not?” he asked, his long eyebrows standing up in frozen bristles from the top of his bright blue eyes.

  “I had the same thought,” Alemar responded grimly.

  “Perhaps the winds have shifted, bringing the southern flows nearer than usual. I hope we do not get caught in a storm. When the air temperatures clash, it can get very bad,” he commented.

  “This is normally a calm time of year. But it seems to me that the patterns have been changing. Should it not be colder?” Clovis questioned, noticing the dampness himself for the first time.

  “A little, perhaps. Something is definitely different about the air,” Alemar said again, with a perplexed look upon her face. “Maybe it will cool down tomorrow. In any case, we will be high in the hills by then.”

  The three travelers rode in a line, horse head to horse tail, down the narrow roadway that wove its way through the low rises of snow and rock, bordering the north eastern most part of the city. Alemar was glancing from left to right, searching for something with her eyes. Clovis followed closely behind her, lost in his own reverie, though his gaze never left the Princess’s silhouette.

  Giles was busy adjusting his various weapons to afford him a more comfortable ride. He wore a shirt of the finest quality silver mail over a white silk tunic. His thick legs were covered in brown leather, tooled and intricate, with matching brown gloves tucked into the waistband. He rode without either hand holding the reins, secure in his seat. He removed a short, slim spear from his bag and fiddled with the shaft. As he did so, it sprang outwards, extending itself four feet in length. It was his favorite armament, light and flexible, yet deadly. He pressed upon the shaft once again and it retracted instantly. He slid it into a loop that was sewn on the outside of his leggings for this very purpose.

  Giles seemed always to be occupied with something. When he was satisfied with the disposition of his weapons, after shifting them countless times and considering each shift in position seriously, he pulled a delicately crafted flute from the bag behind him. Raising it to his mouth, he began to play.

  Alemar smiled to herself when she heard the sound, the cloud of concern lifting from her brow temporarily. She relaxed in the sweet melodies for a while, and recalled less worrisome times back in Eleutheria.

  Clovis began to sing along with the music. His deep, melodious voice resonated off of the hard ice mounds all around them.

  “Travelers we, travelers three,

  Happy as any elves could be,

  Burdened by no enemy.

  Prancing through the snows, so free,

  Dancing with eternity…

  Travelers we, travelers three.”

  Alemar listened with a hopeful heart, and she thought how nice it would be if they were simply on a leisurely journey for pleasure. But alas, that was not the case.

  “Let them enjoy themselves now, while they still can,” she said under her breath.

  After they had been riding for about an hour, the sun rose over the eastern mountains, casting its bright light upon the path before them. The air was cold, but still quite damp, more so than usual, yet the skies were clear of storm clouds. Streams of thin, grey mist gathered above, but none were dense enough for snow.

  After riding for quite some time, a sound reached her sharp ears that befuddled her thoughts for a moment. It repeated itself over and over again and she could not identify its source. She gazed at the snow covered rocks in the direction from whence she thought it originated, but she could not discern anything that might be its fount. Suddenly, she realized what she was hearing. It unsettled her terribly. It was the drip, drip, drip of water. Alemar pulled sharply on the reins and her mare came to an abrupt halt. She sat up in the saddle and turned first left, then right, searching the hills for the exact location of the unsettling noise. Finally, she spotted a small, glistening pool of water at the base of a small hill.

  Clovis and Giles watched her closely, their curiosity mounting, and when she urged her horse forward and turned off the path, they followed. Alemar rode quickly to the site, leapt from Shira’s back and removed her gloves. She knelt down before the pool, dipped her hands into it, then withdrew them immediately. She took a small kerchief out of her pocket and dried her fingers slowly, she was staring at the melting snow above that was creating this pool.

  Her two companions could not see what she was doing from their vantage point, as her body blocked their vision. They also could not see the pained expression that marred her beautiful features.

  “Princess?” Giles questioned. “What have you found?” he asked, thinking she discovered an animal or plant worthy of her attention.

  “Yes, tell us, my Lady. Is it a fierce thing that you have discovered? Must we come to your aid so soon?”

  When Alemar turned to face them, their lighthearted sentiments vanished immediately. They could see the fear and concern upon her face. Giles drew his blade instantly and leapt from his horse and Clovis quickly set arrow to bow and drew, while standing high in his stirrups and
scanning the area for the opponent.

  “You can secure your weapons, my friends. This enemy is not one we can conquer with a knife or arrow. Do you see what is happening here?” she asked, and she moved slightly aside so that the others could witness the melting snow. “When have you ever seen the ice melt out here? Never. I have never seen this happen. What it means is that the temperature is rising. The dampness we have been feeling is the result of the warmer air issuing from the south. This is dreadful,” she exclaimed, and then she turned once again to look upon the thawing ice.

  The Princess gazed all around her for additional areas that had succumbed to the higher temperature, and much to her chagrin, she found some others as well dotting the hills. Pools of cold water were forming beneath the more exposed pinnacles of snow and ice, and the persistent drip could be heard more distinctly the further into the hills she searched.

  “I warned my father that we could not avoid this war. My brother laughed at me and told me to stay out of the affairs of the world and to mind my own business. But, alas my friends, we can escape it no longer. Eleutheria is in peril. We must ride hard and fast if we wish to return to a city still standing,” she exclaimed.

  The other two did not fully understand what she was saying, although they both recognized the unusual nature of the melting snow.

  “Could it not just be a warm spell, Princess? It will pass perhaps, quickly?” he stated, more as a question than a declaration.

  “And when did you ever see this happen before? I fear it is no coincidence, Giles. Caeltin D’Are Agenathea is on the move in the south and his reach extends even to us here. Did you not know that the great trees are dying? As they die elsewhere, our safety here too is threatened. We have been spared the pain and misery so far, but the moment is upon us. We can deny it no longer.”

  “We have all heard of the Lalas’ fate. Ours still thrives though. We are not a party to the bickering of men and we cannot control the weather,” the long haired elf said, as if those facts would make a difference.

  “No Clovis. But it is not just men who bicker, as you say. It is war, Clovis. War, the likes of which we have never witnessed before. And it involves all the races, not just some. The trees protect every living thing and the Gem sheds its blessed light upon the entire world. If the Lalas die, what will become of the Gem of Eternity? Will it still shine upon us, or will its light go out too?” she asked without expecting an answer from either of her companions.

  “We cannot control the weather. You are right about that. But perhaps we can thwart the ability of those who can. Caeltin manipulates it for his own evil purposes. The fires that burn beneath the surface in Sedahar are said to be so hot, that they could ignite the very atmosphere if they were allowed to. The bedtime tales we were all told designed to frighten children, are becoming reality,” she said, and she turned to walk back to Shira.

  The other two followed closely behind the Princess.

  “We have been instructed to travel to the Caves of Carloman for a reason, by a Lalas itself. Perhaps the answer to our problems lies therein. At least we are doing something. We will not be sitting on our hands, watching everything we care about turn to liquid before our very eyes,” she replied, the reference to her brother as clear to them as if she named him directly.

  “We will follow you anywhere you ask us to, my Lady. And we do not fear for ourselves. You know that. But what is it we are seeking? Has Wayfair told you nothing other than where we are to go?” Giles asked.

  “No. Nothing more than where. He said that he did not know anything further. He could not lie. It goes against his very nature. I must assume that he had no further information to provide.”

  “So, we are to cross the Pass of the Righteous and to enter the Caves. Then what?” Clovis asked, as if that feat was not great enough.

  “I do not know. The fabric weaves of its own will, my friends. Have we not heard that often enough? I am sure that our purpose will become evident to us at some point in our journey. Meanwhile, we are the first ones to emerge from Eleutheria with any intention at all of getting involved in ways of the world. Our people have sat idle for so long, they do not even perceive that they are threatened. We must help them, or they are doomed. Even my father refuses to recognize that the days of isolation are over. When I informed him that we would be leaving and why, he simply patted me upon the head as he did when I was a child, and he admonished me to be careful not to hurt myself. He did not and still does not take any of this seriously.”

  “They will all realize soon enough, as the walls start to melt around them,” Giles commented.

  Alemar swung around. “Do not even say that, Giles. It would be more tragic than you could imagine,” the Princess replied.

  “Well, is that not what you anticipate and fear the most yourself? In fact, did you not say it yourself a moment ago?” he inquired.

  “Yes it is, and I suppose that I did. But I truly cannot imagine it. What a catastrophe that would be. We are so vulnerable. And we never realized it before. It would not even require an army to conquer us,” she said, looking at them with sadness now rather than terror in her eyes. “The sooner we reach the Pass, the better. We should not waste any more time lingering here. Our only hope is to do what the Lalas advises, and seek whatever it is we need find in the Caves.”

  “Then let us be off. We have much to do, it seems.” Clovis asserted, always the practical warrior.

  “Yes, let us ride,” the Princess concluded as she mounted Shira and spurred her lightly forward. “The sooner we reach the Pass the better, if this weather persists. And, I fear that it will,” she said, eyeing the sky.

  The other two followed behind, saying nothing, contemplating all along the horrible fate that could befall their people if they were unsuccessful in their quest. With each puddle that they leapt over and each rivulet that appeared before them, they rode with a new urgency, a desperate need driving them unremittingly forward.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Is that you my darling?” Aramela asked from behind the entryway, her words hushed and breathless. “I have been waiting for you to come. You should never have left me alone for so long,” the brown haired maiden said through the crack in the door.

  “It is I, dearest,” Ruffin replied with his heart in his mouth. “Let me in. I am cold and wet, and I have been traveling all night.”

  She pushed the door open just enough to allow the dirtied elf to enter, and then she quickly backed away into the dark of the room.

  “Is your father awake, my love? I do not want to disturb his sleep,” he asked, not wanting to see the stoic elf who disapproved of him so.

  “He will not awaken. Have no fear. I slipped something into his cider in anticipation, my darling. He sleeps soundly,” she replied from the shadows.

  “Will you not light a candle so that I may gaze upon you?” he asked.

  “You know how shy I am, my love. We need no light to sanctify our union, Ruffin. Come to me,” she said to him seductively.

  He needed no coaxing in order to approach the maiden. The bespattered elf, ragged and dirty, walked quickly toward the voice of his lover and embraced her with abandon. She led him to the sleeping pallet and lay with him upon it. He gave of himself completely to her embrace, losing himself entirely and totally in her passionate clasp. Aramela was so fervent in her lovemaking, he almost did not recognize her, but the soft and soothing voice in the darkness reassured him, coaxing him and comforting him.

  “I will never leave you again, my love,” he said to her fiercely, holding her against him as tightly as possible. “I shall not return to Seramour. We will leave together. You and I. We will make a home for ourselves in the hills, and have babies and raise them without anyone’s interference,” he said, dreaming of the future.

  The crazed elf had forgotten all about the heinous crimes he had committed. He did not remember the dead he left behind, including his own mother. His mind was no longer his own to control. A part of it was
lost forever and the remainder was soon about to be stolen too.

  “Speak to me Aramela. I want to hear your voice. Light the candle for me. I cannot remember your beautiful face.”

  “In time, my darling. In time. Lay with me a while longer still. Hold me tight. Kiss me, my love,” she pleaded, her voice soft and enticing.

  Ruffin wrapped his tired arms around his lover, and embraced her fully and completely once more. He could feel her arms across his back, so strong, yet so gentle. She held him for so long, it seemed as if she was merging with him, becoming one with him. The physical lines that separated them appeared to fade and he truly thought he felt her mind enter his very own. At first, the sensation was exhilarating and exciting. The renegade elf felt a closeness to another that he had never felt before and he accepted the sensation fervently.

  Soon though, he began to recoil from Aramela’s touch as it went deeper and deeper into his mind. Shocked and confused, he began to feel helpless, unable to control what was happening. Suddenly, it was as if he were tied to the floor and someone was ravaging his mind and body freely, without his having the ability to resist. He tried to protest, but no words would issue forth from his mouth.

  He attempted to rise, to stand up, but he could not, as if something very powerful restrained his limbs. He opened his eyes wide, trying desperately now to see through the darkness of the night, but his eyes were met with only the vague outlines of his lover and nothing more. Her lips were fastened tightly upon his own, drawing all of the air from within his lungs, and he could barely breathe himself. He began to panic and he thought he was going to pass out. Ruffin thrashed his legs about, trying vainly to throw Aramela off of him, but she was too heavy and he was too weak.

  He felt someone in his mind, examining it, pilfering it of the secrets and hidden thoughts that belonged to no one but himself. The knowledge that he possessed, however meager, was flying from his consciousness into another’s. He saw glimpses of his past; scenes from his childhood played before his mind’s eye. His whole life was being exposed and he could not control it at all. Finally, the death of his mother, the killing of the guard and his escape from Seramour flashed by, as if he was reliving the experiences in their horrendous entirety.