The Last of the Sea Elves

by R. A. Cheatham

  Gobi wriggled uncomfortably in his seat as Rolin and Kamo gawked from sailor to seer.

  “Uh, thanks,” Gobi mumbled.

  Kamo shivered as she recovered from the startling revelation that had come entirely unwarranted. She opened her mouth to speak, but Pacha spoke first.

  “Kamo, listen to me very carefully,” she commanded, piercing silver eyes staring right through her, “The king is an ambitious man. His thirst for power rivals that of the kings of old, and he will not be easy to stop. He has armies at his command, but his is a dark secret, one that a hundred men's strength cannot protect. You must seek out Elesun. You must convince him to help you. He is the only one who can give you what you most desire.”

  Kamo blinked and tried to make sense of the seer’s instructions. She had questions about the elven king, but knew nothing of a dark secret.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Kamo interjected. “Did the king have an entire race killed? Why?”

  She knew this was a possibility, but the reality of it caused a new flame of bitterness to ignite in her heart.

  “The king will protect his way of life and his family,” she answered, almost in a haze. “You must protect the rest as the elven races unite.”

  She sat unblinking, staring past Kamo and into an unknown reality. After a minute or so, her eyes shut, and when she opened them again, she looked tired and worn.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” she apologized, looking at each of them now, “I’m afraid I can’t quite stay here when my eyes take me to the future.”

  Rolin, Gobi, and Kamo looked at each other, each displaying the shock they felt. Gobi’s eyes were wide open, Rolin pursed his lips, and his jaw almost quivered, and Kamo shook her head, either unable to believe or unwilling.

  “It comes and goes,” Pacha explained, unfazed by their nervous reactions.

  A young elf with stringy seaweed-colored hair brought a bottle of elven wine to the table, and Pacha filled the glasses.

  “Drink up,” she said gently, “I have a feeling we’ll be here all night.”

  Chapter Nine

  Kamo lifted the glass and took a sip of wine. The silky-smooth texture enveloped her throat, and for a moment, its warmth flooded her entire body. How long had it been since she’d tasted wine like this?

  Rolin and Gobi also drank, Rolin, savoring each sip, and Gobi chugging quickly as if he was a man dying of thirst.

  “Ask your questions, dear,” Pacha told Kamo. “Keeping in mind that while I do know much, I do not know all.”

  Kamo took another sip and let the wine sit on her tongue as she decided where to begin.

  “How do I know your gift is genuine?” Kamo asked, skepticism dripping in her voice.

  “You don’t,” Pacha answered quickly. “Though I’m sure you wish you could believe I am what I say I am. I know Rolin does.”

  Rolin’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and then he shrugged.

  “If she isn’t the real thing, I’m not sure who else could be,” he said, taking a large sip of wine.

  Kamo contemplated and asked the next question cautiously.

  “We’re going to need disguises, aren’t we? For when we enter Ferena, they won’t let us in as two humans and a Sea elf,” she said.

  Pacha nodded in agreement. “It shouldn’t take more than a few hours to get all of you ready unless, of course, you’d rather gather the supplies now and dye your hair as you get nearer the city?”

  Rolin grinned at her across the table, obviously remembering their conversation about her white hair and the memories held within it.

  “I think we’d prefer that, yes,” he said, his eyes extra light and fiery by the flames of the fireplace. Kamo smiled at him, pleased that he remembered as well as she did.

  “How will I know where to find Elesun?” Kamo asked, glancing at the knowing smile still plastered on Rolin’s face.

  “The king will have a celebration at the palace after the Festival of Flames six weeks from this very day. It’s been a tradition since his tribe began their reign. Elesun, as the king’s advisor, will attend as a guest of honor. You must find him and convince him of the error of his ways and the king’s. No easy task, though neither is trekking through the Pennifolds, and it appears you intend to do that as well,” she said, poking at Rolin’s thick jacket still wrapped around Kamo’s shoulders.

  Kamo quickly pulled her arms from the sleeves and handed the jacket across the table to Rolin. He took it, and his face fell.

  “Thank you,” she said, “I just…” she tried to make him smile, “if I didn’t give it back tonight, you’d never get it back.”

  “Right, right, of course,” he replied. “I’m glad you like it so well.”

  Kamo leaned toward the fire.

  “I do,” she said, “I hope, Pacha, that you have something that will work just as well.”

  “Don’t worry, dear,” Pacha said as they finished the exchange, “I have just the things you’ll need.”

  “It’s not that I’m not grateful,” Kamo replied, “but why help us? You’ve only met Rolin once and never Gobi or myself. What do you get out of it?”

  Pacha smiled warmly. “Peace. And, the satisfaction of knowing that I helped brave souls make the world a better place.”

  Kamo stared at her. “Peace? By sending us to the Fire elves? I’m afraid I can’t quite believe you.”

  The Fire elves will never allow peace. For anyone. She can’t be genuine.

  Pacha didn’t bat an eye. “Believing is seeing, and you will see in time,” Pacha said. “But before then, you all must survive the Pennifolds.”

  “Rolin already warned us of a few of the dangers of the mountains,” Gobi said. “He talked about the Earth elf gangs and the giants, but he said that he would let you be the one to warn us about the last thing we could encounter.”

  A barmaid came to the table with four bowls of vegetable stew, and the conversation came to a halt as they enjoyed its savory aroma and taste. It filled their empty stomachs quickly, and Kamo found herself asking for a second helping before any of the others finished their first.

  The barmaid cleared the bowls, and each of them sat relaxed and content at the table. Gobi still gulped down the elven wine, seemingly unaffected by its influence.

  Pacha smacked her lips loudly and cleared her throat, indicating that the time for conversation had arrived again.

  “Rolin is a capable traveler and fighter. I have no doubt he will protect you from any who would harm you along the way, including the elves and giants. But I am glad he left it to me to offer the last bit of advice,” she said wisely. “You see, in the Pennifold mountains, there may come a time when you must also face an enemy that weapons nor cunning nor speed will best.”

  Gobi put down his wine glass and peered intently at Pacha.

  “The mountains are treacherous to those who bleed,” she whispered.

  Gobi smirked, incredulous at the warning. “You’re telling me that I should be afraid of gangs, giants, and blood?” he asked, a hint of mocking in his tone.

  “Indeed,” Pacha said solemnly. “The saying goes that the peaks of the mountains hold a magic unparalleled by man, and if that magic enters into you, the consequences will be severe.”

  She closed her eyes, and Kamo froze, hoping another premonition wasn’t on its way.

  “I’ve seen it,” Rolin murmured.

  Pacha opened her eyes, looked at Rolin, then bowed her head, waiting for Rolin to evidence her claim.

  Gobi’s eyes were sober as he, too, waited for Rolin.

  “A few days before I reached the gate, I encountered a few elves in a petty squabble,” he began. “I kept my distance but kept an eye on them as they started getting louder and louder. It came to blows, and I saw the blood on one man’s face. It wasn’t instant, but it was intense. He stopped fighting the other man and began sobbing and howling. He shouted to people who weren’t there and pleaded for mercy. I watched as he ran away, hallucinations or ghost
s haunting him as he went. I am not a man easily frightened, but that scared me out of my wits.”

  Kamo gazed silently into the dying embers of the fire. She pondered the fate of the afflicted man. Who did he see? Who will haunt me if... She closed her eyes, willing away eerie memories.

  “The higher you climb, the stronger the magic,” Pacha said, now staring into the flames as well.

  A man opened the entrance door, and an icy draft whirled through the room. It dragged Kamo from her thoughts back to the inn and the fireplace.

  “It shouldn’t be too difficult to avoid blood loss,” Rolin said. “Stealth will be our best asset, and if we do come into a fight, well… we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it,” he fizzled out softly.

  Kamo wasn’t afraid of a fight. She had been trained to defend her ship. Hand to hand, longsword, and even dagger and spear throwing were among her skill set, and she had seen Gobi’s and Rolin’s skills firsthand. Gobi would have defended his ship as well, and Rolin would be well equipped and well trained. But she hadn’t counted on the extra consequence of blood magic should the fight avoid their favor.

  “We can provide you with armor and weapons, though as Rolin says, avoiding the fight will be your wisest course of action,” Pacha said.

  Rolin nodded sternly.

  “And if we can’t avoid a fight?” Gobi asked in earnest.

  “The effects of the magic are not everlasting,” Pacha answered casually. “The type and size of the wound will determine its duration and intensity. A small cut may only give you minutes of hallucinatory effects, but a large gash would be more like hours.”

  “Fantastic,” Gobi grumbled.

  “Pain is not forever,” Pacha chided. “It would serve you well to remember that, young one.”

  Her voice was commanding but not harsh. Gobi gulped and meekly nodded his head.

  “With that said,” she spoke more gently, “among the items gathered for your journey, you will find a small jar of salve, to use only sparingly and with great discretion. It will not stop the effects of the magic, but it will act as a healing agent to close the wounds more quickly.”

  “Why not use it any time there’s blood?”

  “While we are glad to be of assistance to you, you must understand that this salve is a valuable asset for us. Its ingredients are rare, and the process painstaking,” Pacha answered. “One of the ground seeds can only be harvested every five years. The small amount we give you must last the entirety of your journey. I would hate to see it wasted on a small cut if the circumstances were less favorable later.”

  “Thank you for sharing it with us,” Rolin said. “I’d rather not have to use it, but if it becomes necessary, we’ll use it well and gratefully.”

  “I know you will,” Pacha said. “It’s getting late, there is much to be done tomorrow, but for now, it is time to rest. You will find that accommodations have been made for you upstairs. Gentlemen, you may retire.”

  Upon being excused, Rolin and Gobi said their goodnights. Gobi shook Pacha’s hand with some trepidation and then took Kamo’s with a steadier grasp. Rolin bowed to Pacha and then held out his hand for Kamo.

  “Good night, Kamo, I’ll see you in the morning,” he said softly, as Kamo reached out a hand to meet his. When their hands touched, Kamo felt a small spark of desire flicker on the tip of each finger. His touch felt warm, even inviting, soft, but strong. He broke away, bowed slightly again to Pacha, and headed for the staircase up to his room.

  Kamo watched him go, a tumble of emotions stirring in her stomach.

  “He is kind,” Pacha said after they disappeared up the stairs.

  “What? Oh, yes,” Kamo stammered, taking a sip of wine to hide the flush in her cheeks.

  “There’s no need to be embarrassed, dear, even old, elven women fall in love,” Pacha beamed.

  Kamo nearly spit out her drink. “I’m not in love,” she shook her head quickly. “We only just met.”

  Pacha raised an eyebrow and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her voice whispered, melodious and sweet. “He will protect you fearlessly, even through fire.”

  Kamo winced, imagining the worst, considering their destination. “And Gobi?” Kamo asked, unable to stop herself.

  Pacha pondered and closed her eyes again. “Gobi will be loyal and brave for friendship and goodness, but his heart belongs to another. This journey will lead him back to the one he loves,” she said, opening her eyes.

  A wave of relief washed over Kamo.

  “But I think you know, I didn’t excuse the humans to discuss love,” Pacha whispered.

  Kamo shifted nervously in her chair and slumped, averting her gaze.

  “The day it happened, what did Sheelo say to you?” Pacha asked.

  Kamo sat up in surprise. “How do you—”

  But Pacha raised a calloused hand.

  Flustered, Kamo closed her eyes to remember.

  “He told me that I should follow his commands perfectly, then ordered me to climb the rigging,” Kamo said, lost in her final memories of Sheelo.

  “What else?”

  Kamo opened her eyes, confused.

  “That’s it,” she murmured, “that’s all I remember.”

  She rested her elbows on the table and ran her fingers through her hair.

  “Wait,” she said, lifting her head, “I think he was talking to the crew about a girl, a girl who was supposed to be safe with us.”

  Pacha’s eyes lit up, the silver specks flashing in the light of the fire.

  “The girl, who was she?” Pacha asked eagerly.

  “I’m sorry,” Kamo shook her head, “I don’t know.”

  She looked at Pacha apologetically, but to her surprise, Pacha smiled.

  “Kamo,” she said kindly, “you are about to learn a terrible and great truth, one that they kept from you for your own protection. Sheelo, Morro, Kulpa, they each had reason to shield you.”

  A moment of sharp clarity swept over Kamo, and she remembered her mother’s last words.

  “Me,” she whispered. “My mother told me not to let them find me. Sheelo was talking about me.”

  Panicking, she scrambled to remember any remark about the girl who was supposed to be safe. She pondered, thinking quickly through each reference, and then she paused. Horrible understanding crashed over her like a wave breaking violently on the shore. Sheelo, her mother and father, they all died protecting her.

  This can’t be right.

  “Why me? Why kill me? There has to be some sort of mistake,” she pleaded to Pacha, her sadness quickly tumbling into confusion and frustration.

  “Alas, dear one,” Pacha said, resting her hand on Kamo’s trembling one, “this is no mistake.”

  Anger surged through Kamo’s body as she peered at Pacha. “This can’t be right. Tell me what you know. This truth is the reason everyone I love is gone. I deserve to know as much as you do,” she said, trying to keep her voice even and low.

  “I agree,” Pacha confessed, “but you must harness your anger before I can begin,” she explained. “There is much that will be difficult to hear, and your anger will overwhelm you if you cannot control it.”

  Pacha looked at Kamo’s hands, and Kamo followed her gaze, only to see she had her fists tightly clenched. She breathed and willed her arms to relax.

  “You have fire in your bones,” Pacha declared, “you must learn to keep it in check; otherwise, it will consume you.”

  Kamo continued to breathe, dousing the flame of anger that had erupted so quickly within her. It took some minutes before Pacha opened her mouth to speak again, so Kamo let her mind wander. First, to a faraway king and his nefarious deeds, and eventually to a handsome soldier a few doors away. Pacha’s voice almost caught her by surprise as she focused on the reality of what she had learned.

  “Around the time you were born, the Fire king began attacking the Sea elves under the pretense of finding a traitor to his throne,” Pacha began. “It was nonsense, o
f course. The Sea elves were loyal to the crown. The Fire king was married to one of the Sea elves’ beloved daughters, after all.”

  Kamo nodded, familiar with her people’s history. The Sea elf queen had entered into the marriage to keep a balance between the four tribes.

  “Yes,” Kamo interrupted, “but Mara died only a little less than a year after they were married,” Kamo pointed out. “When she got sick, she hardly left the palace. The Sea elves mourned her, but no one blamed the king. Certainly not enough to usurp his throne, in any case.”

  Though Kamo was only a baby when queen Mara died, she had heard of her tragic passing. The Sea elves always spoke of her in hushed, solemn tones.

  “And the king married a new queen,” Pacha said, “this time a Fire elf queen, the queen who now sits on the throne beside him. The queen produced an heir of purest Fire elf blood.”

  “Right, the crown prince,” Kamo said. “But what has any of this got to do with me?”

  Pacha stared at her, patiently and intently keeping her eyes fixed on Kamo’s.

  “Kamo, have you met a Fire elf?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” Kamo answered. “Why?”

  “Each elven tribe has unique characteristics. As you know, the Sea elves have white hair, blue eyes, and blue scales. Earth elves have different shades of green hair and gray eyes,” Pacha said, and then she paused to take a breath, and Kamo’s hand.

  “Fire elves have shades of red hair, red scales, and,” she paused again, coaxing the words carefully from her throat, “brown eyes.”

  White, hot anger coursed through Kamo’s veins again, threatening to burn her from the inside out. She pulled her hand away from the Earth elf leader and knocked her chair to the ground as she stood in protest.

  “No.”

  She kicked the overturned chair as she stormed out into the night. The air nipped at her skin, but she was fueled by her rage and the cold stone didn’t seem to bite at her as she sat forcefully on the fountain’s bench.

  No. I am the daughter of Morro and Kulpa Rana. I am a Sea elf, born to the ways of the ocean and tide. I am nothing like them. I am not one of them.