by Vaiya Books
Gazing at Tianna, who looked rather unhappy at his lengthy delay, he replied casually, “Yeah, I saw him. He takes it hard when he loses, but he always gets over it--eventually. It’s no big deal.”
Distress still lined her brown eyebrows. “So, where do you think he went?”
“If I know Ian, and I do,” said Eddy, smiling arrogantly to himself, “he’s probably in the workout room.”
“Is he a weightlifter then?” She curled her long brunette hair behind her ear, staring at him with deep interest.
Eddy grinned. “Not really. I think he just wants to be alone for a while … to recover.”
Tianna fumbled with a purple amethyst bracelet on her small wrist, as if trying to make sense of what he’d just said, before asking: “Is he sensitive?”
He fixed one of the spikes in his hair that had been growing flat, while snickering. She sure asked a lot of questions. “Yeah, he is, especially when it comes to sports--he can’t stand to lose. Sometimes I think he’d rather not be involved at all.”
Intrigue filled her eyes at this admission. “So he’s still not taking Skyler’s place then?” she asked innocently.
This unwelcome topic threatened his good mood. “Did Sandler approach him?”
“Yeah,” she mused, jangling her purple agate and silver conch shell necklace unknowingly. “But he bluntly refused to join the team.”
Eddy frowned. “How do you know this?”
“Shayla told me. Everyone in school’s been talking about it.”
His frown deepened, as burning wrath arose in his heart. “Everyone?” he questioned, startling her with his sharp tone. “Then how come I’m just hearing about this right now?”
Tianna looked up at him, smiling, caustic humor in her voice: “Because you’ve probably been too busy bullying Alan.”
Stunned, Eddy just gazed at her, feeling as if he’d been cut with a surgeon’s knife. As much as he tried to forget her words, he found it nearly impossible. “But I’m his best friend,” he argued spitefully. “Why wouldn’t he tell me?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured, her playful eyes growing sympathetic and sorrowful. “I guess he was distracted.”
Eddy just bit his lip, not at all satisfied with her unhelpful reply, and turned to Samantha. “Hey, I’m done bowling, Sam.” His arms hung limp, as he frowned slightly. “Let’s just call it a tie.”
Samantha brightened up, all too eager to quit bowling, seemingly oblivious to Eddy’s distress. “Sure, Eddy.” She patted him kindly on the shoulder, and half-walked, half-skipped away, joining her boyfriend Jason Miller for a doubles match in ping pong against Ethan Adams, a clever prankster with frequent bouts of humor and occasional wit, and Shawn Evalise, the class clown.
But Eddy just stared into space, not sure if he were angrier with his best friend for keeping this news from him or Shayla for gossiping about it to everyone except him, leaving him entirely in the dark until now. Anger aside though, he knew that Tianna was definitely onto something; Ian was not acting like himself. Being at a party all by himself for half an hour was totally unlike him.
Sure it made sense that he’d be all alone upstairs whining to himself about how he’d lost to Darien for maybe a minute, or perhaps even ten, given the fact that he seemed to have gotten into a heated argument with Kenn prior to going upstairs, but there was still no excuse for such a long absence. Something strange was going on.
Chapter 6
Knowing that an attempted flight would likely mean his death, Ian sullenly followed the three elves out of the canopy, and into a clearing in the forest, spotted with more of the same blue-leaved trees of great stature that were haphazardly spread out across the flowery landscape like playing pieces on a checkerboard.
Now in the open, Ian had to squint as the unobstructed sunrays dazzled his eyes, illuminating the entrancing scenery before him. In better circumstances, he would have gaped in awe at the beautiful landscape, but in his present condition, such a sight gave him little pleasure and only intensified his depression; he was traveling to a dungeon, after all. No matter the lovely road that led to it, the fact remained--he was marching to his own doom.
Clenching his teeth and resisting the urge to lash out at Azadar, who’d just given him another bitter smile, he half-wished that he were traveling through a dry wasteland instead that was covered with barren trees and laced with sharp desert thorns. At least then, he would feel fully justified in wallowing in self-pity.
Eyes glazed with anger, he restrained himself from breaking down into tears. None of this was fair. This world seemed bent on his destruction, and what was worse, he couldn’t do anything to prevent it. Countless times, he’d closed his eyes and wished himself back at Hazel’s party, but all he’d gotten for that was a near collision with a tree and evil smirks from Azadar. Since then, he’d given up on such futile attempts as a grim reality settled upon him--he was likely never going back home. He’d just have to make the best of whatever lay ahead of him.
Trudging forward with rugged tenacity, determined not to let himself be dragged down anymore by his emotions, Ian lifted up his eyes from the lush grass he trod upon and glanced around him.
The first thing that captured his attention was several crystal clear rivers that meandered gently through the peaceful woods and vanished into a dark canopy. Shifting his gaze to the right, he stared at dozens of ponds, which dotted the vicinity and lapped up against the tall gray-brown grass with their calm azure blue waters. The ponds around him spread out about the landscape like polka dots on a t-shirt, sported giant lily pads of various shapes and colors that floated calmly on the water.
Though each lily pad boasted intricate designs, his current favorite was a black star-shaped lily pad, streaked with neon blue veins running through it, that teemed with gold, green, and black salamanders spotted with carrot orange, scarlet, or turquoise. Even though he’d never been a nature lover before, if everything looked as cool as these lily pads and salamanders, he’d be forced to change his mind.
Tearing his eyes off the salamander-infested lily pads after some effort, he swept over the rest of the landscape with his dark brown eyes, centering in on a large vine in front of him that tangled around a silver statue of a fair elven princess, whose stone eyes seemed to regard him with sympathy. From the vine hung oval-shaped black-purple berries that dripped with dew. Though he’d just eaten at home not too long ago, he somehow felt very hungry. Must be from all the walking.
Moving past the berries, not daring to test the elves’ generosity, he soon arrived at a patch of blue wildflowers. Their sweet aromas, reminiscent of that of roses, only much more fragrant, flooded his mind with blissful images of serenity and solitude--but he wasn’t deceived by them and quickly thrust them from his mind. There was no peace where he was going.
With a return to his sober outlook, he passed by the flowers and went around the frothy, bubbling waterfalls without so much as one happy thought. After doing so, he noticed a shiny bronze gate way off in the distance that towered high into the air and then vanished behind a tall patch of trees that swarmed with tropical birds of light sky blue, emerald green, sunlight yellow, and neon orange hues.
Eyes glued to the shimmering bronze gate, he barely heard the chirping birds singing sweet melodies high above him in the trees, as he continued to follow the elves silently.
His thoughts were anything but quiet, though. He wondered what the elves would do to him in the dungeon; he wondered if he’d ever get out of there; he wondered if he’d ever see Eddy and Darien again.
Pondering over these things, while trying to avoid becoming too discouraged, Ian traipsed under the gate’s shadow and instinctively looked up to the top of the gate where five gatekeepers, all dressed in rustic brown cloaks, stared down coldly at him and locked eyes with him.
Ian cringed, shocked by their rudeness, and sunk his head down in shame mixed with raw anger. Why did his entrance into this kingdom have to begin this way? Why couldn’t he hav
e been received like the party from Lord of the Rings coming out of the mountains?
Even though he wouldn’t have wanted to be trapped in a Lord of the Ring’s forged world, as he knew then that he’d have to be wary of those dark wraiths, orcs, hordes of goblins, and that evil wizard, even so, at least then he’d know the elves would be his allies. Now, he thought of them only as enemies....
“Announce yourselves,” one of them questioned sarcastically, a half-formed grin on his face, breaking Ian out of his reflections.
The elf leader shot the guard an annoyed look. It appeared they weren’t on good terms with each other. “Azadar Silverheart, Daeyth Silverheart, and Evlan Frostglade, Court Herbalists, along with a human spy for Tazik named Ian Hansen,” he replied impatiently, as if he’d been through this routine a thousand times before. Glancing at Ian sharply, he then returned his gaze to the guard as he added slyly, dry amusement replacing the disgust that had been there mere moments ago, “He also claims to have been ambushed by three Elayans in the Woods of Zahla.”
At the word “Elayans”, Ian felt the gatekeeper’s eyes bore into his soul like he were a wild beast, and he forced himself to look down at the stone path in front of him. He felt small, insignificant, like an unwanted foreigner being chased by an angry mob; he felt the same as when Kenn had insulted him after he’d lost to Darien at ping pong. It was a sick feeling that made him want to gag.
“Is he from Sarith?” asked one gatekeeper in a strong brazen voice that made Ian shiver and refocus on the dialogue between the elves.
Seemingly amused by Ian’s worry, Azadar folded his hands and held them a few inches above his head, shadows shrouding his countenance. “We cannot be certain, though we have our suspicions, for the Sarians have recently been conducting dark business with Tazik.” An icy tenseness filled the air.
The gatekeeper cocked an eyebrow. “And how do you know this?”
“We have our sources.” Azadar would say no more.
Eyeing Ian with mistrust, the gatekeeper then turned back to the speaker as if convinced by the elf’s words, saying, “You and your companions may enter, Azadar.”
Within a few seconds, the bottom of the gate started rising up, making a smooth wheeling sound as it did so.
Watching it, his heart pounding faster, Ian felt a rough grip on his shirt sleeves, as the two elves spurred him onwards. Maddened by their rudeness, he passed through the gate, kicking a few pebbles with his socks, as throngs of elves stopped what they were doing to stare. Youthful-looking men as well as pretty women, young elven children as well as wise-looking slightly older elves, all eyed him with interest as if he were the newest exhibit at an art museum.
Blushing madly at all the attention, Ian averted his eyes from them, as Azadar’s accusation rang in his mind again. A spy? He’d been called a liar by his friends, a slacker by his peers--although he didn’t think this one fair--and even a self-conceited narcissist by his English II teacher, Betty Dane, whatever that meant. Yet this insult was far worse. The only thing that made it tolerable was that he knew the elves were completely wrong about him and that someday they may thoroughly regret handling him so roughly.
Trying to focus on this last thought, Ian followed closely behind Azadar for about ten minutes, the two elves still clutching his arms as if considering him a flight risk. Eventually, they reached a tall silver gate, and as Azadar informed the gatekeepers about their names and their mission again, they were once again let inside.
No sooner had they entered in though, than a stately youthful elf with thick black hair boldly stepped in front of them blocking their path. A royal blue robe lined with bronze stripes was draped over his shoulders, a golden tunic fastened onto him by a silver belt hung down to his kneecaps, and silver studded sandals clung to his feet. He fixed his hands to his sides like a soldier. “Azadar Silverheart, the king has discovered your faulty identification of the Verandel nobleman. He desires your presence immediately.”
An authoritative frown flared up on Azadar’s face, as he glanced sharply at Ian. “And what do you intend to do with him?”
“The king will see to that,” reprimanded the messenger, still keeping a martial temperament. “Now go.” He shooed Azadar away, dispersed his two friends, Evlan glancing back at Ian as if to say “I’m sorry”, and then faced Ian. He put his hand over his heart and tapped his feet on the ground several times. It looked like “follow me”, but Ian wasn’t certain.
Glad that at least this messenger seemed to have some sense in him, Ian glanced over at the retreating elves as they nimbly climbed straight up a gigantic tree and then leapt fifteen feet onto another, landing on it with perfect agility as if they were ninjas, before falling twenty feet onto the ground without losing their footing and without looking at all injured.
Hardly believing his eyes, he stood in a daze, watching the elves’ humanly impossible speed as they bolted away from him going at least 30 mph before shimmying up another tall tree. Now more than ever he was glad that he hadn’t tried to run away from them. Even with all his previous training, he knew he was no match for these elves. He’d likely not even make it two steps before they’d be on him.
Intrigued by their talent, he would’ve continued staring had the messenger not stepped in front of him, blocking his view, causing Ian to awaken out of his trance and blink his eyes repeatedly, before refocusing on the messenger, who still had his hand over his heart and was tapping his feet on the ground.
After pausing slightly, Ian, recognizing that he probably wanted him to follow him, voiced his curiosity: “So where exactly am I going?” he asked.
The calm messenger suddenly grew alert. “How do you know our language?”
It sounded like an accusation, so Ian answered immediately, “Azadar gave me a ring and--”
“Enough said.” The messenger interjected, jolting Ian with sudden annoyance, pausing as if to remember his message. “Come with me to the baths, Ian. King Kadeth awaits you.”
King Kadeth? Ian thought, shuddering, recognizing the name from when Azadar had spoken it earlier. Why would the king of the elves want to meet him? Was he simply overly curious to meet a foreigner? Or had he somehow found out about the accusations against him?
Despite his hopes for the former, a dark foreboding in his mind told him that this meeting was more than just mere curiosity. No, this meeting could not go well; his name and character were already thoroughly tarnished by Azadar’s report. Likely, the king was only going to interrogate him briefly before sentencing him to the dungeon.
Heart thumping heavily, Ian stirred to move, but the elf’s disgusted look kept him as still as a statue.
As Ian stood there in suspense, the elf threw out another command. “Take those vile things off your feet, human. They do not belong on the path we are treading.”
Looking down at his dirty socks, he bent down and hastily ripped them off, throwing them to the side of the road into a thick blue bush, equally ashamed by the insult and his poor hygiene. No sooner had he done so, than the elf took off running.
Seeing no choice in the matter, Ian hurried after the messenger, his bare feet treading over the hot bronze road. If it weren’t for the fact that he’d already purposefully strengthened his feet by running barefoot every so often, this jog would’ve given his feet painful blisters. Now it was just slightly discomforting.
Darting through many winding side streets, his hardened feet being tested over the additional surfaces of stone, wood, and marble, Ian noticed many curious eyes, dark glaring eyes and bold prying eyes, scrutinizing him from head to toe as if gazing upon a new specimen. All this attention made Ian uneasy and actually angry. Didn’t the elves have better things to do than watch a human run through their streets? Surely, they’d encountered humans before.
Annoyed, Ian avoided their bright green eyes as he sprinted for several more minutes, until the messenger abruptly stopped in front of a medium-sized timber structure that was painted a silvery blue and ran up to it, p
lacing his hand on a white panel at the top of the golden door. After doing so, he waited impatiently for the door to open, the shapes of three or so elves visible through the panel for a few seconds, before the panel shut abruptly.
Two minutes later, after a less than comfortable wait, with the messenger not saying anything to him, Ian saw the door jolt open, and the owner of the place--after chatting briefly and angrily with the messenger--beckoned for him to step inside, to which he did quickly, hurrying into the building, the messenger waiting behind.
Once inside, Ian was greeted with the warm invigorating aromas of cinnamon sticks, maple blossoms, and vanilla orchids. To his left and right were hallways and many individual rooms with yew wood sliding doors, convincing him that this must be the bathhouse.
As if affirming his observation, the owner spoke, his voice both condescending and conniving. “Enter here.” He pointed to the nearest one, a room with carved elven symbols on it, and a violet flower on the center of it. “And take a quick bath.” Then, sliding the door open, the elf added with cold formality, “And change into those clothes near the bath circle; it would be a disgrace for you to wear your old rags.”
Staring at him for a split second, Ian then dashed into the room, slid the door shut, and bolted it, amidst the snickering of the owner, resentful that the man would insult his best dress shirt and favorite pair of blue jeans. What was his problem? Was he not getting paid or something? Or was he simply mad that a human would make use of his facilities that were likely only for elves?