Venom and Song

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  “I was thinking the same thing,” whispered Kat. “I wish we could see a little.” She turned around carefully to the cavesurfer behind them. “Johnny, how are you doing?”

  “I’m thinking about Autumn,” he said quietly. “With everything we just went through, how could she do any better?”

  “She’s way ahead of us,” said Tommy. “I bet she’s already there.”

  “The Sentinels told us she would get the best medical care in Allyra,” said Kat. “That Claris lady sure seemed to know what she’s doing. Autumn will pull through. I know she will.”

  “Yeah,” Johnny replied with little certainty. It was silent again for several moments, and then Johnny said, “I might be able to make a little light again.”

  “NO,” said Tommy louder than he meant to as an image of their boat in flames hurtling through the underground flitted through his mind. He didn’t care that much for his curly locks, but he didn’t want them singed off, either. “Uh, I mean, that’s okay. I think the Sentinels want us in the dark.”

  “We are nearing the Nightwish Caverns,” said Grimwarden, his whispered voice still somehow gruff and commanding. “Be silent and make no sudden moves.”

  At the head of the boat, a bluish spark kindled and for a moment illuminated Grimwarden’s dark eyes, ragged long hair, and beard. The Guardmaster placed a glowing blue stone on the prow of the boat and sat down, showing his massive, broad-shouldered silhouette.

  With the new light, Tommy could see just how narrow the aqueduct was . . . a thin channel between platforms of rigid stone and clusters of jagged stalagmites. Here and there, other byways appeared as shadowy cavelike holes. Then Tommy saw something he didn’t understand: little flashes of light hanging ten feet in the air on either side of the channel. So many of them, evenly spaced, they’d light up as a boat passed and then fade out in the darkness left behind.

  Arrowheads, Tommy suddenly realized. . . . Razor-sharp arrowheads glistening like rows of sharks’ teeth.

  Bowstrings pulled tight to their chins, arrows nocked and trained on the boats, an entire arsenal of Elven archers stood ready on either side of the river. Even if an enemy could navigate the pitch-black aqueducts and approach the caverns, he’d never make it past these archers . . . not without becoming a floating pincushion.

  Light grew from some source far ahead. The boat rose in the water and began to slow. Tommy could see the archers better now. Two complete lines of bowmen garbed in dark gray and black, like the tunnel’s walls, waited on the river’s banks. As one, they removed the arrows from their bowstrings and expertly slid them back into their quivers. Then they crossed wrists and bowed. Grimwarden returned the customary gesture.

  They’re staring at us, thought Tommy. All of them.

  The light grew stronger, and the boat emerged at last from the tunnel, floating slowly into a massive, vast expanse. Tommy’s jaw literally dropped. Kat gasped. Even Johnny, who’d been so preoccupied with his thoughts of Autumn, couldn’t help but stare.

  “Behold!” exclaimed Grimwarden. “The Nightwish Caverns and the Remnant of Berinfell!”

  An army of thousands of flet soldiers clad in rich browns and deep greens stood on either side of the river, their outstretched arms and extended rycheswords forming a celebratory roof above the newcomers. And beyond them, a teeming crowd, untold thousands of men, women, and children. Trumpets blared, thousands of voices rose in songs and cheers, and pure white flower petals cascaded down like fat snowflakes from the heights. And what heights there were! The ceiling of the Nightwish Caverns was hardly visible in the murky twilight so far above, but it was several hundred feet up at least. Great turrets and mighty bastions made of the strangest dimpled blue stone towered up on the left and on the right. And crafted upon these were many balconies stuffed with cheering Elven citizens. Bridges arched over the river in several places far ahead, and more deliriously happy Elves filled these.

  “This is all for you,” said Elle Goldarrow, turning to look at each of the teens as the line of boats emerged from the tunnel. Then she stood, raised her hands to silence the crowd, and announced, “We have won a great victory over the Spider King,” her voice becoming loud, commanding, and resonant. “For today, the Lords of Berinfell RETURN!”

  In the happy chaos that followed Elves leaped up and down, children shrieked at seeing the heroes, and more than one adolescent Elf swooned over the sight of the teen lords entering their domain. Banners fluttered, fists pumped, and swords rattled on the faces of shields as everyone welcomed what they had hoped for through so many years of darkness.

  When Goldarrow sat back down, Grimwarden muttered, “It is not yet the final victory. There is much work to be done.”

  “Oh, don’t be so morose,” she replied. “Our people need this. It’s their first real celebration in hundreds of years. Give them this day and the ceremony tonight. Then we’ll go to work.”

  Grimwarden harrumphed and turned away. Goldarrow leaned toward the young lords. “With those wide, fearful eyes, you look like Gnomes.” The teens didn’t laugh, but Goldarrow was undaunted. “Smile at them . . . wave to them,” she said. “They are your people.”

  Tommy, Kat, and Kiri Lee did as they were told. Their waves were tentative and slow, their smiles forced. As their boat drifted under a bridge, Kat whispered to Tommy, “They don’t know, do they?”

  “Know what?” Tommy asked. Kiri Lee leaned over to hear.

  “They think we’re heroes, like some great warriors come to save them. They don’t know that we’re just kids.”

  “No, Kat, you’re wrong,” said Kiri Lee. “We’re not just kids. Not anymore.”

  Following their dramatic welcome into Nightwish, the Seven were given warm wraps before being served a quick meal and taken to their quarters—guys in one, girls in the other—two rooms at either ends of a long hall. They stripped off their still-damp clothes, donning brand-new night robes, and practically fell into bed, asleep in midair—except for Johnny, who worried about Autumn and why the Sentinels had refused his request to see her.

  Sometime in the early morning, there came a knock at the door to the boys’ quarters. Then a harder knock. Finally a knock so hard the ceiling almost caved in. Johnny leaped out of bed, feeling every muscle kink and pain, and opened the door. “Nelly!” he said. “And Guardmaster Grimwarden. What’s going on here?”

  “We’re very sorry to wake you,” said Nelly. Jimmy, Tommy, and Jett sat up, yawning.

  “What time is it?” Jett rubbed his eyes.

  “Early enough,” said Grimwarden. “Had a ridiculously difficult time waking you, too. Almost took the door down. May we come in?”

  “Just a sec,” Johnny said, wandering away. “We couldn’t figure out how to put out this candle-stone-thing, so I just covered it up.” The room now lit in dim silvery light, Johnny let them in, and they sat at a small table in the center of the chamber. The other boys gathered around.

  “Would you mind excusing us?” Grimwarden inclined his head, indicating that he wanted to speak to Johnny alone.

  “No problem, Mr. Grimwarden, sir,” said Tommy.

  Jett nudged Johnny as if he might need backup. “We’ll be right outside the door, dude.”

  “Just give us a shout,” added Jimmy. Then the three boys shuffled out sleepily and closed the door.

  “We have just been to see Autumn,” Nelly began.

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Good, very good,” said Grimwarden. “Nelly, perhaps you would be better at this.”

  She nodded. “Johnny, tomorrow is the lordship ceremony. It is a very public thing where you will all be celebrated as the returning Lords of Berinfell.”

  “Even Autumn?”

  “Well, we’ll see how she’s doing.”

  “So I may see her now?”

  “It’s best you leave her be,” Nelly said.

  “But she’s my sister!”

  Nelly looked to Grimwarden, then back to Johnny. “Regarding that. We we
re afraid that something will come as a bit of a shock to you.”

  “That I’m an Elf?” Johnny scratched his ear. “Well, I’m kind of over that.”

  “No, not that,” said Nelly. “But it’s related.” She looked to Grimwarden, sighing. “See, Guardmaster, I’m not much better at this. Okay”—back to Johnny—“you remember how we told you that the Drefids took you and the others as babes, yes?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, when they brought you and Autumn out of Allyra and left you on Earth, the authorities gave you to the Briarmans as brother and sister.”

  “But?” Johnny’s sleepy mind didn’t gather the implication.

  “But you’re not,” said Nelly. “Not by blood, anyway.”

  Johnny sat back, eyes fixed in a blinkless stare.

  “Your real name,” said Grimwarden, “is Albriand Ashheart. Autumn is Miarra Swiftstorm. Two families. Two lordly families.”

  “We’re very sorry to have to tell you like this,” Nelly said.

  “Does Autumn know?”

  “Yes, she knows.”

  “I really can’t see her?”

  “No, not now,” said Nelly. “She needs time to . . . to come to terms with this in her own way. That’s why we didn’t allow you to see her earlier. You’ll have to wait until the lordship ceremony.”

  Grimwarden and Nelly bid Johnny good morning and left, letting the other boys back in. The four crawled back into bed, relishing the allowance of sleeping late. Everyone but Johnny, who, though quite exhausted, never did fall back asleep.

  4

  The Lordship Ceremony

  “THIS IS the coolest thing I’ve ever worn,” said Jett, admiring himself in a long mirror. “And that’s saying a lot.”

  “You like the tunic, do you?” asked Brennath Eventide, a flet soldier assigned to help the young lords with their ceremonial attire. “I should say you might. The thread in these garments is worth more than the castle in which we now stand.”

  “Yur pulling me leg, aren’t yu?” asked Jimmy, looking again at his tunic. Its design was the same as the others: black with ornate silver embroidery around the collar, sleeves, and waist. What thread could be worth that much gold? He turned and muttered to Tommy, “Yu think he’d be offended if I told ’im mine dunnot fit so well?”

  “I doubt it,” said Tommy. “I think they—”

  “Offended?” Brennath laughed so hard his curly blond locks bounced on his shoulders. “You could scarcely offend me . . . a lowly flet soldier! I am at your service . . . bound to your service, actually. And because I am to teach you the nuances of our culture, let me begin by explaining that each one of the Seven Lords is in all things above my station.”

  Jimmy blushed. “Uh . . . well, that will take some gettin’ used to. For most of me life, I’ve been rather second fiddle. Uh . . . more like tenth fiddle, really.” Jimmy stared at the floor. “The tunic’s all right anyway.”

  “It’s not all right if it isn’t just the way you want it,” said Brennath. “Command me, m’lord.”

  “Uh, well then, I suppose mine is a wee bit loose.”

  “Well done, m’lord,” said Brennath. “You will have to wear it for the ceremony, but I will have it altered before the council tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Thank yu,” said Jimmy, still red-cheeked. “It is a great-looking tunic. And I do like the sword.” Jimmy whipped the rychesword from his sheath, spun around, and slashed the air.

  “WHOA, Jimmy!” Tommy leaped backward and blocked with his own sword just before Jimmy would have carved a gash into his upper leg. “Watch where you swing that thing. You could have cut off my leg or something.”

  “I knew yu’d block it,” said Jimmy, quickly sheathing the sword. He winked but then whistled a nervous whew.

  Jett laughed and cinched his sword belt a bit tighter. The triangular chamber in which they now stood, indeed the whole castle, was cut from the same dimpled bluish stone that the entire underground city seemed to be built from. Silvery light radiated up from clusters of icy-clear crystals in each of the three corners. Jett wandered over to take a closer look. “These crystal things are cool,” he said.

  “You are quite perceptive,” said Brennath. “We call those cold lamps.”

  Jett laughed. “That’s not what I meant by cool.”

  It was Brennath’s turn to be red-faced. “I’m sorry, m’lord. What did you mean?”

  “No need to apologize,” said Jett. “I just meant these crystal, uh, cold lamps, they rock. They’re sweet.”

  Brennath stared blankly.

  “He means he really likes the way they look,” said Tommy.

  “Oh,” replied the flet soldier.

  “Right,” said Jett. “C’mere, Tommy, Jimmy. Look at it. There’s a tiny little fire burning down in the middle of these crystals. But it’s weird fire . . . kind of silvery . . . like . . . ish.” The others hustled over.

  “Wow,” said Tommy. “It’s like fire made of mercury.”

  “That is a single ounce of dremask vein,” said Brennath. “A peculiar metal to be sure—we discovered it at the bottom of some of the coldest underground riverbeds. Cold ignites it, and it burns cold.”

  “It burns in the water?” Tommy asked. “Then how do you put it out?”

  Brennath regarded him gravely. “You don’t.”

  Someone knocked at the door. “Are the lads dressed?” came a muffled woman’s voice.

  “The lords are garbed in their finery,” said Brennath. “Do come in.”

  Regis strolled into the chamber. “Don’t you all look dashing,” she said, making a big show of looking over the young lords in their royal garb.

  Jimmy stood up especially straight. Regis’s dark eyes gleamed mysteriously out between long wisps of black hair. Jimmy sighed. He’d had a crush on Regis ever since she took a job at the tavern back in Ardfern. Now that he knew that she was actually an elite Dreadnaught warrior, well, that just made her all the more intriguing. If only she wasn’t hundreds of years older than me, Jimmy thought.

  “The sun is climbing high,” said Regis. “It is time for the ceremony.”

  “What about Autumn?” asked Jett.

  “Autumn . . . I cannot say if she will join us in Luminary Hall.”

  “Will Autumn be okay?” asked Tommy.

  Regis’s lips betrayed the slightest hint of a smile in one corner of her mouth. “Again,” she said. “I cannot say. Maybe you shall see for yourself, if Lady Claris allows more visitors for her charge. Come now, lads, many are waiting.”

  “Regis?” Jimmy spoke up.

  “Yes, Jimmy?”

  “Would yu like t’know yur future?”

  “Well, that depends,” said Regis. She tilted her head, raised an eyebrow, and eyed him curiously. “Is it a good future?” Tommy, Jett, and Brennath looked on.

  “I think so,” said Jimmy, holding his arm in an L shape. “Yur future is to take me arm and walk me to the ceremony.”

  Brennath laughed. Tommy and Jett stared. Regis walked to Jimmy, took his arm, and said, “It is a good future indeed.” She promptly led Jimmy out of the room. Brennath followed, leaving two gawking young lords.

  “I didn’t know Jimmy was that smooth,” said Jett.

  Tommy just shook his head. And all I can do is shoot arrows.

  Luminary Hall was cavernous and perfectly round. Braziers lit with dremask flickered brightly every seven feet around the perimeter wall. Their eerily beautiful silvery light glimmered on the ceremonial armor of flet soldiers posted at every door. Six of the seven young lords stood in front of seven high throne chairs arranged in a half circle near the middle of the room. Directly across from the thrones, seven smaller seats waited with a robed Elf standing statuesquely behind each one. Massive multitiered seats rose up around the center like a coliseum, and above those, wide balconies clung to the walls like caterpillars inside a jar.

  “It looks like every single seat is filled,” Kat said, staring.

 
“That’s a lot of Elves,” said Tommy. “Think they can even see us from way up there?”

  “You can see them, can’t you?” asked Jett. “This is great, like being in the Super Bowl.”

  “Just makes me nervous,” said Kat.

  “Hey, look a’ that!” Jimmy exclaimed, pointing beyond the seven robed Elves to a low-level section of seats. “It’s Miss Finney, Regis, Goldarrow, Grimwarden, and the others.”

  “Edward is there, too,” said Kiri Lee.

  “I wish this ceremony was just in front of them,” said Kat. “I don’t like being the center of atten—”

  “Kat, look!” Tommy pointed to a section of Elves seated off to their left.

  Kat gasped. What caught her eye was more remarkable than anything she had ever seen. Not their clothes. Not their hairstyle. It was their skin. “They . . . they’re just like me.” Kat held trembling fingers to her mouth. She remembered Mr. Wallace and Anna telling her about the Berylinian Elves, how they all had bluish skin like hers, but that had been back on Earth right in the midst of learning so many strange and unbelievable things. To see them in person filled Kat now with overwhelming joy, a kind of snuggling warmth that radiated through her body. Tears beaded and then rolled down her cheeks. Blue men, blue women, blue children . . . different shades, too. It was overwhelming. I’m not a freak, she thought. If only Mom and Dad could see them. She covered her face with her hands, shook with something like soft coughs, and cried tears that like a cleansing rain washed away years of silent suffering.

  Anna appeared at Tommy’s side. “What’s happened? Kat, is she all right?”

  “Yeah, she’s cool,” said Tommy. “Really cool, I think.” He nodded toward the Berylinian Elves.

  Anna understood immediately. She touched Kat’s shoulders. “You see,” she said, “you are beautiful. You always were.”

  And why wouldn’t she think she’s beautiful? Tommy wondered. Girls totally confused him sometimes.