by Terry Spear
When they reached the opening for the dark cave, Viator pulled something from his pouch. A stick that when he waved it, cast a soft glow that poked rays of light into the darkness. A river ran through the center, a mix of sand and pebble paths on either side, as the sound of the water echoed off the cave walls.
He hurried her along the river. The damp cave smelled like fresh earth and she loved smelling all the scents of the world, so much richer than the filtered air of the spaceship. The rough, rocky walls glistened with moisture dribbling down the green moss blanketing them. And the river pulsed like the blood coursing through her body in a never-ending stream. The water flowed with a soothing melody cavorting over rounded stones.
He frowned, sniffing the air. What was the matter now?
“The water…it smells odd. We drink from this water that fills a vast underground tunnel system.”
The sight of a pale blue object caught her eye. Viator hastened to the spot, pulling her along. “What is it?” she asked as she studied the blue vase. The porcelain object was painted in swirling gold designs, symbols of some foreign culture.
Frowning, he said, “A river elf’s vessel.” He lifted it to his nose and sniffed. “No odor.” He shoved it into his bag.
“Could it have been—”
“If the river elves are encroaching upon our world…” He stopped speaking and shook his head. His long legs strode along the riverbank as he searched for further clues, tugging her along.
He was obviously concerned about the presence of the river elves. “So if this is your territory, why would they have come here now? And for what purpose?” She rushed after him, not that she could do anything else the way he was gripping her arm.
“No telling with the river elves. If they could, they would send all of us elves from our homes.”
“Oh, wait. Since this is a river, wouldn’t they feel they would have the rights to it?”
“Not when it runs through our territory.”
A man’s sized footprint was carved into some of the damp sand. On the heel, a symbol was imprinted.
Viator rubbed his chin. “A river elf’s footprint. They have a distinctive mark on the bottom of their shoes.”
“Looks like an upside-down wing. Why would they have a wing on their shoe? Do they have wings?”
“They have an odd sense of humor. They leave such a mark showing they are a river elf. Any other footprints would indicate outsiders trespassed over their land. Trespassers are easily found, then it’s just a matter of getting rid of the outsider. Yet, they are the trespassers here.”
“How do they get rid of an outsider?”
“You wouldn’t want to know.”
She did want to know. It was the only way to be prepared in the event of an emergency. Eloria studied the footprint some more. Then she realized there was another symbol, nearly worn away. “What is this odd horseshoe shape for?” She ran her finger around the new imprint.
“What?” He examined the print more closely. “Rotted toadstools. It’s Lars’s mark.”
“Lars?”
Viator continued to pull her along. “He told me once how he’d rule over heaven and earth. Of course, he says things like that often. I never pay any attention to him.”
Lars sounded like real trouble. “You know him?”
“At one time, all elves schooled together. Since Lars was the crown prince of the river elves and I, crown prince of the Darkland Forest elves, was often paired with him in trials.”
Eloria’s mouth gaped. “A prince?” She had been taught to curtsy in front of royalty on other worlds, though for every kind of people, the customs and courtesies were different. She wasn’t awed by royalty. She figured most of them “earned” their position from birth and hadn’t worked at it. But she was still conscious of extending the proper courtesies as a goodwill gesture. She frowned. “Trials?”
“Games of wit.”
“And… I hate to ask, who won?”
Viator turned to face her. A slight smile crept across his face. “It was half and half.”
“Oh. What happened to cause the rift between the Darkland Forest elves and the river elves?”
“Greed. The rivers elves wanted more land, more power. We didn’t agree.”
She saw a new tunnel recently cut into the wall of the cave, no moss along the edges that would indicate the dampness had reached it. “This appears to be a new tunnel.”
Viator examined the jagged edges of the newly-created tunnel. “They must have come this way then. I will release you because I might need to fight them if they are around. No telling what the river elves would do to a red-haired, tailless mermaid. I’ll be back once I learn what I can. You stay right here and I’ll check it out. You would endanger both of us if you come with me.” He paused. “Don’t think of returning the way you came. You have no protection unless you stay with me.”
“I’m your hostage, remember?”
“You could be dead, if they get ahold of you.”
In the tunnel, she had no way of reaching the high elf and his dragon. As soon as Viator was out of her sight, she was heading back the way she came, hoping she wouldn’t run into more of Viator’s kind in the woods. Or the river elves in the tunnels.
He disappeared into the dark tunnel before she could even say a word. But as his elven light faded into the tunnel, she created her own beam of light, using her magic.
Eloria took a deep breath and considered her other options. She could go into the new tunnel where Viator and she could fight off the river elves together. But she opted to run back the way she’d come. A rock suddenly bounced off another near the river the way she’d come. She extinguished her light. A faint light wavered several yards from where she stood, and it grew nearer somewhere close to the river.
Voices hovering over the light filled the cave. She turned her head in that direction to hear the conversation. “It’s working,” one of the men said. “Several of the Darkland Forest elves are sick.”
“That was a brilliant notion of yours to use the Aegean petal’s poison to taint the water…” The conversation died away as the light from torches drew closer to her. She walked farther into the shadows of the dark tunnel, her heart pounding, fearful they would see her. If they were poisoning the Darkland Forest elves, she was certain they’d just kill her. Not without a fight, but if there were too many of them, she couldn’t hope to win.
“Did you see something over there?”
Footsteps hurried toward the tunnel, and Eloria scampered into the blackness. Filled with panic, she barely breathed. She had no choice but to try to make her way through the new tunnel in the direction Viator had headed.
Eloria stumbled over a lump of rock and fell to her knees. Pain shrieked through her kneecaps. Glancing back, she saw the lights wavering in the darkness as they moved toward her. She jumped to her feet and ran. No telling what the elves would do to her if they found her. They’d poisoned the river and she was certain they wouldn't want her warning the darkland elves who had done it and how.
She grabbed the walls of the tunnel as she tried to find her way. Then a tiny light ahead of her gave her hope, and she hurried toward it. Her heart raced as she scrambled over the uneven terrain to reach what she hoped would be safety.
The light ahead of her silhouetted her figure for the ones behind her. One of the men following her said, “What is that?”
“A ghost?”
“Not a ghost. A woman?”
“A woman would never be down here alone.”
They’d seen her. She hurried toward the light that grew with every step. Then she realized the light wasn’t coming from outside, but from more handheld torches, and they blinded her vision. Viator wouldn’t have had more than the one stick of light.
Terror gripped her as her throat grew dry. She stopped in her steps, squinting her eyes as she held her hand up to shield them from the brilliant glow.
“Grab her.” A deep, harsh voice spoke within the light. She tu
rned back to see the men behind her slow their steps.
Before she could do anything, a hand from behind her grabbed her arm. With a jerk, she was yanked farther into the light and was suddenly outside of the tunnel, breathing in the smell of the forest and of wet rain.
She attempted to jerk herself free from the elf, irritated that she’d probably gotten herself into more of a predicament than before. Two more grabbed at her and whisked her through the forest. The leaves still dripped water from a recent rainfall.
“What is it?” the one sneered as he glanced at her.
The river elves? They were as slim-featured as the Darkland Forest elves, but these had pale blond hair and light amber eyes, unlike their dark-haired cousins. They were as handsome a creature, noble in their tall build, dressed in greens and browns to camouflage them in their woodland surroundings, no doubt. So far, she didn’t feel they were as much of a threat as Viator feared them to be. Except for the business with poisoning the Darkland Forest elves.
“Where is Viator?” she asked, as the elf squeezed her arm tightly. He ignored her, and she took a deep breath. “Lars?”
The elves stopped in place. “What do you know of our prince?”
She didn’t say. She’d hoped mentioning his name would put her in better stead, but it didn’t seem to make any difference.
The elf shook his head. “Will we get rid of the trespasser in the usual way?”
“No.” Eloria tried to squirm free. Whatever they intended to do to her, it didn’t sound good. “I’m just a visitor to this world. And I don’t mean anyone any harm.”
The elf laughed darkly. “And you won’t harm any of us.” He pulled her to the edge of a cliff where the sun’s early afternoon rays glinted off its red glossy surface. “Look long and hard. It will be the last time you will see such a sight.”
They couldn’t mean to throw her off the cliffs, but she had news for them. Should she act terrified? Make them believe they could kill her in such a way?
Eloria studied the string of a river winding its way through the narrow ravine. The white pebbled beach sandwiched the river in between. Green streaks of crystals covered the red clay cliffs, while trees dotted the top edge of the canyon.
She couldn’t pretend to be a frightened little girl. “Can I not speak with Lars—”
“Prince Lars to you, whatever you are.” The elf shoved her from the cliff. Laughter filled the air.
Her amulet glowing brightly, Eloria screamed as the pebbled beach hurtled toward her, only because she hadn’t really expected the evil elf to shove her off without any warning. And in that instant, she was reminded that she did not scream, ever.
That’s what happened on an uncivilized planet. But wasn’t the amulet supposed to…protect her?
“Eloria?” A voice from faraway called to her. “Eloria. Eloria.”
There was great urgency in the man’s voice, deepened with concern, but still she couldn’t shake herself free from the terror she’d experienced when her ability to create a misty pillow on the rocky beach below had only partly materialized in time to properly cushion her impact. She ached all over and was bruised to be sure. But she was alive and nothing was broken, she didn’t think.
“Eloria,” the voice said again. This time, a hand shook her shoulder. Fingers touched her cheek and she opened her eyes.
“Viator.” She bolted upright.
He took a deep breath. “I was afraid the fall had killed you.”
“I’ll live. Where have you been all this time?”
“Looking for Lars, fighting with him, but then I heard you cry out.” He made a face at her. “Why did you follow me out of the tunnel?”
“Are you kidding? Lars’s men contaminated the water, and they saw me in the tunnel. They grabbed me, and then you can imagine what happened next.”
Viator said something that she thought was a curse in their elf language. Her translator couldn’t translate it. “We must return to my home and see that no one drinks of the water until we can determine how to make it safe again.” Viator helped Eloria up.
She stared at his wings, one torn, and he quickly folded them against his back. “Your wing is torn.”
“Cut. Lars struck out with his sword. I only just managed to fly down here to see to you.”
“Will it heal or do you need to have it sewn?”
“I’ll need stitches, but we cannot do anything about it here.”
“Take me to see Persephonice and—”
“No. They are in the north. I already told you that.”
“Then take me to Prince Zorak, and I’ll tell you what I learned in the cave.”
Viator narrowed his eyes at her. “You will tell us what you know, under torture, if need be. The canyon leads back to the woods that way.” He pointed to the mountains in the distance. “Up there is where Prince Zorak resides, and there’s no way to get there unless you have a dragon for transportation. Or you’re a winged elf.”
Eloria gazed at the pointed peaks covered in greenery as the tips were frosted with snow. It looked like the safest place for the high elf kind to live. She imagined the Darkland Forest elves would have a devil of a time reaching them if they attempted such a feat without wings.
“It is not safe for us here. We must hurry.” Viator grabbed her hand and hurried her along the edge of the bubbling river. He scratched his forehead. “Tell me what you have learned, and how you learned of it.”
She’d been tortured before and still had some of the scars to prove it, which was why she still had nightmares over it. She’d needed to keep important state secrets those times, and until she escaped or was rescued, she’d had to endure. But not this time. In this case, the people needed her help and she wasn’t here to harm them, unless they harmed her. So far, she’d only suffered threats from Viator.
“The one river elf said they’d used Aegean petal’s poison to taint the water. Do you know a cure for that?”
“Yes.”
“Why would they do something like that?”
“They are always causing mischief of one kind or another. Only this is the first time they’ve done anything truly harmful.”
Eloria heard a strangely, beautiful music and stumbled on an outcropping of rock.
Viator grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. “Is there anything wrong?” he asked her, as she turned her head toward the cliffs.
“I hear music.” She’d never heard such a pleasing tune to the ear. She was pulled to it like once she’d been drawn to the crystals in a cave, shimmering in a mystical light, luring her in her dreams. And now Eloria had to reach the music. Just a few steps and she would see what made the alluring sound. Just a few more steps, and she would join the creatures who tantalized her with their tune.
“Just block the sound from your ears, Eloria.” Viator released her hand as he stopped to readjust his pack. “The bewitching sounds of the—”
He turned as Eloria walked into the river.
“Eloria!” he yelled. He pulled her from the water, getting his wings lightly wet. The goddess be skewered. Now he couldn’t fly at all. Not until his wings dried.
Eloria didn’t stop watching the cliffs where the music drifted down to her.
“You cannot resist the meadowland fairies’ music,” he said under his breath. “I hadn’t realized…” He yanked his pack from his back while she stood beside him. Rummaging through the contents, he finally found a soft bread roll. He grasped it, but when he pulled it out of his pack, he heard Eloria swishing through the deepening water.
Turning, he was horror stricken to see that she had walked so far into the river already. His heart thundered with alarm. He couldn’t swim. Could she?
4
“Eloria!” Viator shoved the bread roll into his pack and dashed into the river. Goddess’s wounds. He’d drenched his wings. Before he could reach her, she walked off the ledge in the river and the water closed in over her head. She quickly resurfaced as she gasped for air, but the current ca
rried her away.
“Eloria!” Viator’s frantic voice echoed off the canyon walls. The fairy music from above stopped.
“I can’t swim, Eloria! And I can’t fly. My wings are wet.” Viator splashed back to the shore and grabbed his pack. Running like the zephyr, he tried to catch up to Eloria as her head bobbed up and down in the frothing liquid. His footsteps crunched on the mixed pebble and sandy beach with his frenzied pace. He spied a submerged boulder blanketed in moss poking out of the water directly in her path.
“Catch hold of the rock, Eloria!” Viator shouted. “Catch hold and I will rescue you!”
Eloria managed to barely just seize hold of the rock’s soft edge. The water tugged hard at her, threatening to pull her from the ancient stone.
At least the meadowland fairies had stopped singing, thank the gods.
“Hurry, Viator! I can’t hold on much longer,” Eloria called out.
Viator dug in his bag as he ran. Upon reaching Eloria’s location, he pulled his gold rope out. “I’m going to toss this to you.” He formed a loop in the rope, then tied a knot. “Grab hold of it and slip it around your waist.”
“My arms.” The strength of the water drew the strength from Eloria’s arms. She could use her magic on dry land, not in the water. She couldn’t believe fairies, something she’d thought were only fairy tales, could lure her with their music to her death. No matter how much she’d tried not to listen to them, she couldn’t. Half of her had been caught up in the music, the other half, knowing it was a fascination she couldn’t afford.
Every tug from the powerful river strained her muscles further. She rested her head against the pillow of moss. “Hurry, Viator,” she whispered. She shivered from the icy, cold water. She imagined her lips would be as blue as the blue elves she’d encountered on the ocean shore. She imagined the color had drained from her body. She must have been a sight. One bedraggled, redheaded langolar. She closed her eyes, trying to think of something warm and dry, like the desert region of Kinnar—a desolate place, but full of history, ruins, and an ancient civilization.