by Ravek Hunter
Qel could sense the aura of magic around them and from the forest itself, which was thick on both sides of the road where it crossed into the Sylvan Forest. “Good day, Atlantean wizards. You are welcome in our home. Please remember to respect the laws of our land and people,” the male elf greeted them formally. “While on the road, you will always be safe and there are many way stations, so you do not have to camp in the wilderness. If you choose to wander the forest on your own, then your safety cannot be assured.”
Although Elves were not exactly rare in Atlantis, Qel rarely had the chance to speak with one. He was so enthralled by their graceful movements and almost poetic way of speaking that he only just noticed that the road ahead was completely blocked by trees. How strange that they would allow the wilderness to grow so wild and block the roadway, he thought absently. And traveling off the road appeared improbable as well, with the underbrush choked with thorny bushes and entwined with vines and roots of other foliage along the entire tree line as far as he could see.
Qel dismounted so as not to appear to lord over the warrior. “Good elf, how may we, or anyone, enter your beautiful and mysterious land when the trees have been allowed to block the road behind you?”
The elf smiled mischievously. “This is your first time entering Avalon, Atlantean? The Tree Guardians only keep out those who are not welcome.”
With a wave, the trees blocking the roadway slowly retracted their entangling roots and walked to opposite sides of the road, leaving the space open for the wizards to pass. Walked! Qel watched in amazement. When he looked closer at the trees, Qel could make out vague outlines of legs and arms formed from the trunk and branches. He could even make out the forms of eyes, a nose, and a mouth high up on their massive trunks. These “trees” were intelligent magical creatures clearly placed here by the Elves to intimidate and perhaps defend if called upon to.
Startling Qel from his fascination, the elf called out, “Farewell Atlanteans. Remember, stay on the road, and you will be safe.”
Qel mounted and kicked his Lambei forward. Havacian followed as they slowly moved past the Elves and under the watchful eyes of the Tree Guardians into the legendary Sylvan Forest of Avalon, land of the Elves.
Chapter 9
Ἀτλαντίς
The Sylvan Forest
The dark forest was devoid of the usual wilderness chatter that Qel would have expected while he and Havacian followed the roadway north toward Avalon City. On either side of them, the foliage was thick and impassable, forcing them to stay on the road, which had transitioned from the paved thoroughfares of the Atlantean Territory to a strangely hard-packed soil after they passed the Elven checkpoint. Even much of the light was shut out by the canopy of branches that interlocked above them, giving him the impression of riding through a broad tunnel. The foreboding atmosphere was not at all what he anticipated the Sylvan Forest to be like. The stories always portrayed the Sylvan Forest as a bright and happy place with Fairies and gentle wildlife dancing playfully among the fruited limbs. The reality couldn’t be further from that idyllic picture of nature.
“I did not expect this,” he told Havacian.
His friend turned to him with a hunted look in his eyes. “I feel like they are watching us.”
“They?”
“The trees,” he whispered. “Do you think they are all Tree Guardians?”
“If they are, then the Elves take their isolation very seriously.” Qel looked around nervously at the thought.
“They do.” Havacian leaned in a little when he spoke. “Master Curatei says there are only two roads into Avalon. The first connects the capital to their only port in Andlang in the northeast, and the second is the one we are on now. Apparently, the Elves are very strict about who enters their homeland, and those discovered trespassing are met with expulsion and a stern warning. It’s worse if they committed a criminal act, in which case the punishment could be as harsh as death or being sold to the Vikja and into slavery.”
“It doesn’t seem like the lands of the Elves are a very friendly environment to outsiders anyway.” Qel suppressed an involuntary shudder. “I wonder why so many Atlanteans come here for respite.”
Havacian shook his head. “It must get better.”
They passed another league in silence, and still nothing had changed. Then in the distance ahead, Qel observed a group of men wearing brown robes adorned with feathers, fur, and knotted cords tied with colored beads that dangled by their sides as they walked on the side of the road. Once they drew closer, Qel could clearly see that they were humans, six of them. Some had red hair or brown, and another was blond. Their hoods were down, leaving their features unhidden for any to see, displaying intricate blue tattoos that covered their faces. They chatted amiably with one another as if they were strolling the shopping boulevards in Atlantis. When Qel and Havacian passed, the men made no effort to hide that they were humans and instead waved and smiled. Each of them wore a peculiar smooth stone with colored patterns that almost appeared to move like storm clouds hanging loosely about his neck on a short thong threaded through a hole in its center.
It was a ridiculous sight, thought Qel, and they were human. He looked over at Havacian who, for reasons Qel could not begin to guess, had an animated expression on his face, yet he remained silent until they rode past the men and out of earshot.
“Do you know who they were?” Havacian was bursting with repressed excitement.
“No, I thought the Elves didn’t allow humans . . .” Qel cut off sharply when his mount suddenly shied in close to Havacian’s.
He looked over, expecting to see a snake or raccoon that had surprised the Lambei on the dirt road. Instead, he found himself staring into the eyes of the largest wolf he had ever seen trotting beside them. As big as his Lambei was, the wolf’s head easily cleared the height of the horse’s back. Qel immediately prepared a spell in anticipation of attack when Havacian grabbed his arm.
“Wait,” he said quietly as five more wolves trotted up behind the first.
The lead wolf looked over at him with strangely intelligent eyes and seemed to smile with its tongue partway out. Qel was jarred to see the same stone on a tight thong around its neck that he had seen on the men they so recently passed. Then the pack picked up speed and moved at a jog away from them and into the forest.
“Was that . . .” Qel stammered.
“Yes!” Havacian practically shouted. “They were druids! The only humans allowed in the Sylvan Forest. Master Curatei spoke a time or two about their mysterious centers of worship deep in the forests so remote that very few Atlanteans have ever seen them.”
Qel’s felt the excitement then too. He had just seen real druids, and they had changed into wolves. Only in stories did he know of the druids and was sorry to have missed the transformation. Druids were almost unheard of in Atlantis. They were welcome like everyone else, but from what he understood, they didn’t care much for cities. This must be what true adventure is like, he thought. Long bouts of boredom interrupted by spontaneous moments of excitement!
Riding on, Qel was surprised to see that the forest started to open up, and they were no longer riding through the gloomy shaft of branches and vines. The sun filtered through the leaves overhead, and he could see small glades with ponds of sparkling water. Farther on, shallow creeks and clear streams meandered one direction then another with an abundance of wildlife that seemed unafraid when they passed by. And birds chirped and cooed cheerfully—wonderfully familiar sounds—from every direction. It was as if the appearance of the druids had transformed the forest.
“The wilderness has come alive.” Qel was elated.
Havacian laughed. “I was just noticing that, so caught up with the druids!”
As beautiful and pristine as everything around them appeared to be, Qel still couldn’t shake the unavoidable feeling that they were being watched. By something in the forest or even the forest itself, he had no idea, but he knew that the feeling was real. He decided not
to mention anything to Havacian, who seemed to be enjoying the beauty of the scenery around them, as long as he didn’t feel they were in imminent danger.
“Why don’t we stop for lunch in that glade with the pond.” Havacian pointed to a clearing a few paces off the road.
“I wish I knew how to fish,” Qel jested. “I could cook us up a proper meal.”
“Be wary,” Havacian replied with a chuckle. “The fish here might have teeth.”
For an hour they enjoyed the relaxation of the soft green grass under their backs, the gentle lap of water from the nearby stream, and the occasional splash of a jumping fish. They ate sweet honey bread and strips of dried hartebeest garnered from the kitchens in the Aquilon Tower and watery ale from one of the nearby taverns. Although the day had started very dreary, Qel was feeling comfortable again in his surroundings, even happy.
“No wonder the Elves are such an amicable folk.” He took a deep breath of the crisp air. It felt good in his lungs.
Havacian looked over. “Why is that?”
“They live among such beauty all their lives. I mean, not that Atlantis or any other place on the Emerald Isle is unattractive by any means, but it is almost prosaic in comparison.”
“Maybe the Elves feel the same way,” Havacian suggested. “After all, they live a long time. Besides, I’ve only known you a few years, and you’re becoming pretty prosaic yourself.”
Qel hit his friend playfully on the arm, and they laughed vigorously for the first time since they were drunk in a tavern a few nights before. After an hour, Qel reluctantly suggested that they continue on their journey. A sign they passed earlier indicated that the next way station was twelve leagues farther, and at their current pace they would be lucky to make it before nightfall.
The day wore on, but not Qel’s spirits, and soon the light seeping through the trees faded to a dim amber. Another sign gave their distance to the way station as four leagues, or approximately three hours if they picked up their pace.
“Looks like we will have to ride in the dark soon,” Havacian commented nervously. “Should we press on or try to prepare a camp?”
Qel chuckled at his friend’s assumption that they could manage to make a proper camp. “Don’t worry, Havacian; the road is clear and well maintained. I doubt the horses will find a rut or unseen crevasse to step in.”
Within an hour the sun set, and unlike earlier in the gloom when they first entered, the forest was still beautiful in the darkness, illuminated only by the waxing gibbous moon that Qel could see through the limbs above them. Curiously, tiny lights began to appear throughout the forest. At first, Qel thought they were fireflies, but rather than moving and blinking, they were steady and held their positions. Some closer to the road appeared to come from nooks and hollows in the trees. And then some did move, purposefully in one direction or another without the many random deviations expected from an insect.
Not wishing to stray from the road in the darkness, Qel slowed down to peek within the lit hollow of a nearby tree. The light shone from what appeared to be a small home, complete with a little door and windows. Peering through the windows, he could see tiny furnishings and décor like one might see in a dollhouse or children’s toy.
“Fascinating,” Havacian remarked beside him.
Qel just stared, unsure how to process what he was seeing. As they continued their study of the unexpected scene before them, the door suddenly opened, presenting a very small creature resembling a female elf standing only about a hand’s width in height. The figure wore a little brown tunic, matching breeches, and boots. Her dark hair was long, disappearing down her back, where sprouted a pair of softly florescent, sheer wings. From a distance, Qel could never have seen this detail, but standing so close to the tree where the diminutive creature resided and looking into her home, they were nearly face to face.
“She must be a Fairy,” Havacian whispered. “I have only read about them in stories, but never believed. . .”
The Fairy, who stood been tapping her foot impatiently, said something unintelligible in a squeaky, high-pitched voice and in the blink of an eye flew over and tweaked Qel’s nose before retreating back into her home and slamming the door.
Havacian laughed almost hysterically when they returned to their horses. Qel sneezed uncontrollably for several moments, then started laughing as well.
“I guess she didn’t appreciate us disturbing her privacy,” Qel laughed. “She cast a minor spell on me that nearly made my head explode from sneezing. We better take care not to upset them.”
Havacian nodded in agreement, still in the throes of laughter.
Qel looked at the lights in the dark forest with new eyes now. He could see hundreds of the little homes all around them with Fairies moving here and there carrying little light globes mounted on the ends of sticks. They stood quietly then, enjoying the fantastic sight, until Qel thought he heard something coming from the depths of the forest.
“Can you hear that?”
Havacian was also staring into the dark forest. “I wasn’t sure at first, but, yes, it sounds like singing.”
The melody was simple and pure—a song that reflected the serenity of the night and solitude of the forest. Qel felt calmed by the singing and wondered if the voices were those of the Fairies.
Not wishing to cause any further disturbance, Qel mounted his Lambei, followed reluctantly by Havacian, and they continued along the road to the way station, leaving the Fairies behind. The silence of the forest was occasionally broken by the hoot of an owl or the yip of a coyote and the plod of their tired horse’s hooves on the hard dirt. No one else was on the road at this hour. Not even a merchant or farmer.
An hour later, they arrived at the way station. It was a large two-story house built of stone with the entire roof covered by the roots of two gargantuan trees that stretched high into the dark canopy above. The soft glow of lanterns spilled from the windows, and Qel could hear the echo of conversations from the outside when they rode closer. Dismounting in front of the house, they were greeted by a young elf who took their horses around to the back to be rubbed down and stabled for the night while Qel and Havacian walked up a short stairway to the open front door.
The common room was filled with travelers. They were mostly Atlanteans that appeared to be merchants, a few Elves who might have been couriers, and a group of rowdy Dwarfs who couldn’t have been anything but tradesmen. High drama was taking its course around them, with the Dwarfs drinking heavily and singing loudly, drawing the ire of the Elves and the amusement of the Atlanteans. Weaving in between the groups of patrons were several beautiful Elven attendants with trays crowded with mugs and platters of cheeses, fruits, and seasoned meats. Qel’s stomach grumbled at the delicious scents of the delicacies that teased his senses. He beckoned to one of the attendants and asked for the innkeeper before she disappeared into the kitchen again. While they waited, they sat at the end of a long table and each ordered a mug of wine. Qel was mildly disappointed that they did not have Mekali wine, but he wasn’t really surprised. Outside of Atlantis, it was considered very expensive, and only the very affluent could afford it.
A mildly pudgy elf wearing a long smock over brown breaches and a silky green tunic soon appeared at their side. He had a kindly face and a quick smile that made him immediately likable. “Good evening, gentlemen. Are you looking for a room this evening?”
“We are, sir, if one is available.” Qel returned politely.
“I do have one left if you don’t mind sharing.”
Qel eagerly accepted. It was better than sleeping in the stable or camping on the side of the road. He knew nothing about camping. Then he and Havacian went upstairs to stow their packs before returning to the common room to have a meal.
“Odd how they follow their emotions to such absurd extremes.” Qel commented. He and Havacian sat once again at a long table, out of earshot of the turbulent Dwarfs and watching them with delight. “Drinking, carousing, singing, and laughing loud
ly without a care for how they affect others around them.”
“They are a far baser and more boisterous people than ours or the Elves,” Havacian agreed. “At least more so than our more mature brethren.” He nodded toward the other Atlanteans in the room, all older than they were and quietly talking among themselves and the Elves. “One thing about the Dwarfs, though, if the rumors are true, is that their word is as solid as the rock they live under in Tirnan Yog, and their friends and allies can always count on them to do as they say.” Havacian echoed much the same sentiment as Qel’s father.
Qel laughed suddenly. “Imagine what Atlantis would be like if our people were half as rambunctious.”
“It’s unimaginable,” Havacian chuckled. “Our people are way too cerebral and concerned with obligations and duty to ever allow themselves to have that much fun.”
“And what about these Elves?” asked Qel. “What does Master Curatei say about their ways and personalities?”
Havacian turned almost serious for a moment. “They are a very fun-loving, happy people that cherish their families and have a symphonic relationship with nature that is inseparable from their spirit. Maybe nature is their spirit. It’s all very mysterious.