by Chloe Hodge
A group of young girls braided each other’s hair with wildflowers, giggling with glee, but a group of boys sat hidden behind bushes, launching spit wads from reeds into the girls’ fresh hair. Shrill protests echoed in unison. As Kinna led the others, he gave the boys a stern look, and they scattered in the wind, cackling with laughter. Shara had never seen such a happy, kind and gentle people in all her life.
Leaning in to Ashalea, she whispered, “are they all this beautiful in the other elvish provinces?”
As she spoke, she spied a handsome blue-haired elf with rippling muscles and tanned skin walk past, and she winked. He returned the gesture.
“Shara!” Ashalea laughed, unused to such behaviour. “Elves are generally considered the fairer folk I suppose, so, yes?”
The only elves she’d met before Windarion were her mother and father, who were undoubtedly fair, but not exactly what dreams are made of.
Only nightmares. Only death.
“Well, I think this is going to be a very good visit!”
Ashalea rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to know what other things Shara did in shadows, although, she did feel an unfamiliar pang in her stomach. Jealousy? Shara was so confident and sure of herself, and why not? She was beautiful, exotic, wild, and more capable and confident than many men. But it was more so that Ashalea had never grown up with any male figures in her life— except for her father and Wezlan. Feelings, flirting, love!? That was a weapon she was incapable of wielding.
She was still pondering this when they reached the palace steps. A stable boy came to collect the horses and Ashalea gave them a few reassuring pats, though they looked comfortable exploring the new land. I’ll be with you again soon, Ashalea promised Kaylin, hoping he received the message. The group climbed the stairs, past the guards stationed out front, and into the foyer where they were asked to wait. Wezlan gestured for the girls to come closer.
“King Tiderion is a great elf and an excellent King. Please be respectful,” he gave Shara a sharp look, “and do not take his wisdom for granted. His elvish years have been long, and he’s faced many battles through the ages. If he’s a little short with you...” he shrugged, “don’t take it personally.”
Shara snorted. “I’ll try not to be offended,” she said with a smirk.
Wezlan just frowned at her and parked his rear on a blue chair, cushioned with velvets and silks. “Ah, that’s better. My old bones don’t take kindly to riding anymore.” He rubbed his sides for good measure and closed his eyes.
The wizard looked like he’d nod off any second so Ashalea took to studying the palace. The architecture was impeccable. Graceful, rounded archways and gold filigree filled white walls. On the ceiling, a turquoise pattern snaked round and round to the centre where a chandelier of coral and pearl hung decadently. The furniture was made of white oak or coral, with blue, green and purple hues and a pop of pink and orange here and there. The entire room oozed grace, class and comfort.
“Ahem,” a voice cut through Ashalea’s musings. Kinna entered the room and nodded, his turquoise mop shaking as he did. “The King and Queen will see you now.”
Ashalea shook the dozing wizard. “Wezlan, time to go.”
“Hmm? Yes, yes I’m ready.”
He leaned upon his staff and took Ashalea’s arm before heading up the main staircase. They climbed to the second floor, and after twisting and turning a few times, came upon two large blue doors, which Kinna rapped upon twice. Another guard opened them from inside, bowed, and shuffled to his post whilst Kinna took his place on the other side.
Beyond the doors, two elves sat upon an amalgamation of coral and white wood, the two twisted together in a glorious spiral; coral branching out from behind their heads. The floors were marble white, with a swirling ingrain of dusty pink and orange shells. Further still sat white pillars evenly spaced, as if guarding the open balcony. As the last building within Windarion, the palace sat within a cliff, overlooking twinkling blue seas and a sunset splattered with glorious pinks and reds. Across its shores lay distant lands, many moons away. The party approached the thrones and bowed before those seated, waiting for an invitation to speak.
“Welcome, Wezlan Shadowbreaker, Ashalea Kindaris, and Shara Silvaren, to the Aquafarian Province,” the King said as he rose.
He was garbed in pants scaled like a fish – a shimmering blue or green depending on the light, and wore a silky deep blue cloth draped casually over one shoulder, exposing muscle and a scar over his brown chest. Long blonde hair cascaded like ripples down his back, and sea-green eyes twinkled from beneath his brow. Upon his head sat the coral crown pictured on the royal flags. The lady beside him also rose with a warm and welcome smile, and her beauty radiated like a star burning in the heavens; fiery and fierce, yet whimsical and dreamlike. Lilac hair with the most intricate braids fell near to her feet and her soft brown eyes smiled, as did her perfect pink pout. She wore a purple dress beaded with pearls and precious shells, and a delicate silver crown embedded with pearls adorned her head. Ashalea and Shara stared in awe until a gentle nudge from Wezlan brought them back to reality.
“King Tiderion, Queen Rivarnar,” Wezlan bowed once more, “we come bearing news, though none of it good, I’m afraid.”
The King nodded gravely. “I suspect this relates to the creature you killed earlier today?” He frowned and descended the dais to stand before the three travellers. “You have done the Province a great service. The beast took two of my best and could have destroyed the lake and its inhabitants if not for your timely intervention.”
He shook hands with them all, lingering on Ashalea as he eyed her off. As he was about to speak, Wezlan quickly interjected.
“We believe the beast travelled down the water channels from Telridge Lake. Trouble stirs in the south-east, and many vile beings have been spawning from the marshes of Deyvall and daring to venture further. The dwarves of Kingsgareth and Nenth have been keeping watch, and while the creatures sit idly by for the most part, their numbers are growing.”
“The Lady Nirandia has informed me of such, though the appearance of a creature this far north-west is troubling.” He returned to his seat; brow crinkled in thought.
“There is also the matter of the water dragon, my dear,” Queen Rivarnar spoke up, glancing at her husband. She crossed the floor and took Ashalea’s hands, gazing into her eyes. “You were the one who woke him. You were chosen,” she said softly.
At this the King perked up and his eyes hardened. “Is this true?”
Uncomfortable, Ashalea looked at Wezlan for reassurance and he nodded in return. “Yes. The lake sprites led me to him. He awoke when I arrived.”
“And what did he say? Why did he wake?”
“The dragon knew of the creature that died today. He called it a Wyrm-weir.”
Wezlan inhaled, and the King turned his attention to the wizard. “You know of such a beast?”
“I have only heard tell of the creature from the other wizards divine. It comes from a dimension many worlds away from this one. It is said that it devours anything in its path and corrupted all waters in its own land.”
“Then we are truly at the mercy of the gods, for the appearance of such things can only mean the portal is weakening, or the darkness has regained his strength.”
Wezlan sighed. “The main portal is still intact, for the Guardians would have sent word should evil breach the Grove. No, the darkness grows stronger. Bolder. I believe it may be conjuring temporary portholes through time to allow a few creatures through. This requires a great deal of energy…” he trailed off. “I must travel to Renlock immediately and consult with the mages there.”
The King nodded in agreement. “Find out anything you can and report back. Ashalea and Shara will be well looked after until your return.”
Wezlan turned and put a steady hand on each of the girls’ shoulders. “Renlock is just a days’ ride away. It is time I reunite with the mages and look for Magicka solutions to our latest problem. I want
you both to focus on finding the next Guardian.” He leaned in to whisper. “Keep an eye on the King’s movements, who he spends the most time with.” He gave them a smile and a nod and turned back to the King.
“With your leave,” he bowed.
“Go, Wezlan Shadowbreaker. May you bring good news back to Windarion.”
The wizard left in a flurry of robes, leaving Ashalea and Shara alone in the wide hall. The King regarded Ashalea coolly, and she felt the icy rigidness of his stare.
“Tell me more about the dragon.”
She gulped. “He said he will protect the waters from any evil and will answer the call when the time is right. He told me the story of his dragon brethren, and how they travelled to another land.” Ashalea cast her eyes downward. “I know he is the last water dragon.”
King Tiderion leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands together. “Why you?”
“My lord?”
“Why did the water dragon choose you? He has not awoken for many an age and chose to do so when approached by an outsider.” He fixed a hard stare on her. “Perhaps…” His mind drifted elsewhere, and he fell silent.
Guardian or not, Ashalea felt as small and insignificant in that moment than ever before, wanting nothing more than to hide herself away. She didn’t need reminding that she was an outsider. She had been one all her life. Anger flared inside her, but she baulked against his words and felt lost to make her own.
Shara’s fists balled up, and she stepped forward defiantly. “Ashalea is kind and gentle, strong and courageous. She was also chosen by a talisman of the Onyxonites. Besides,” she muttered under her breath, “one doesn’t question the judgement of a dragon.”
It was a shock to hear Shara speak so well of her. The prickly, self-satisfied woman who had shown obvious contempt upon their first meeting. Ashalea still wasn’t sure what to make of her, but assassinations and gory details aside, a sudden realisation she might like the woman slapped her in the face.
She almost burst into a fit of giggles at the bizarre reality. That, and the audacity of the woman who would question a High King of elves. If they weren’t careful, they’d be sleeping in chains tonight.
The King’s fury surfaced like an over brewed ale, and both women shrivelled a little at his gaze. The Queen laid a gentle hand on his arm, and the tension returned to a simmer.
“It has been a long day for everyone. Our guests will be tired after their travels and the battle that took place earlier.” She smiled at Ashalea and Shara and they welcomed its warm glow. “Kinna will show you to your rooms and I will send some refreshments. Please rest and join us later.”
She nudged her husband in the ribs and he relented. “We would be most delighted if you would join us for dinner later.” He clenched his teeth. “A feast shall be held in your honour and to pay tribute to our fallen comrades. Ondori will collect you.”
“We are most grateful,” Shara forced.
Queen Rivarnar nodded with satisfaction and patted her husband a few times for good measure.
Kinna took the girls’ arms, and they left the room with a stiff bow. “Well that went well,” he said cheerfully.
Ashalea and Shara looked at each other with eyebrows raised.
Shara jibed. “You don’t say. I think if he had his golden spear, we’d be worse for wear.”
“Best not to say such things aloud. The highborn have eyes and ears everywhere, even in elvish kingdoms.” Kinna pulled to a stop in the corridor. “Well, here we are. Your rooms are side by side. Rest, eat, and enjoy the view. You’re in for a treat tonight,” he said with a wicked grin.
With that he left the girls standing there and disappeared. Uncomfortable silence settled as they shuffled their feet awkwardly.
“What you said in the throne room…” Ashalea began. “Well, thanks.”
“You’re not so bad.” Shara flashed a genuine smile. “We have to stick up for each other. There’s nothing worse than men who judge merit based on measure.”
Ashalea laughed. “Jealousy is a fine crown to wear for a King. He can keep it.”
Shara studied her curiously. “I saw what you did to that creature today. You’re stronger than you look. How long have you studied Magicka for?”
“Since my parents died.”
Most people would say they’re sorry. Shara said nothing of the sort. She waited expectantly until Ashalea relented.
“Three years ago. The darkness murdered them in their sleep and then tried to kill me. I don’t know why, but I would have died if it weren’t for Wezlan.” She shrugged. “He’s been training me ever since.”
It was easier to talk about these days. The pain had burrowed a hole into her chest, which she’d plastered with a hundred bandages. One hand drifted unconsciously to the scar on her stomach. Shara caught the movement. That woman didn’t miss a thing.
“Does it pain you still?”
“The scar?”
Shara shook her head. “Scars are a sign of healing. I mean in here,” she pointed at Ashalea’s heart.
“Everyday. I still see their faces in my dreams. The blood over their bodies, the emptiness in their eyes.”
“Good. Use it.”
Ashalea clenched her fists so hard that blood appeared beneath the crescent moons in her palms. “I plan to.”
Shara searched her eyes. “Demons don’t deal in reason Ashalea; they have nothing to barter. Instead, they steal power, and thrive off hate, regret, and anger.”
“Well I have plenty. So, what does that make me?”
“Dangerous.”
Her words stoked a fire in Ashalea’s gut. Shara was right. She is dangerous. She is powerful. She is… smelly.
As if reading her mind, Shara sniffed the air for the third and final time that day. “I’m famished and desperate for that bath, soaps and all.” She grasped Ashalea’s arm. “Pay no mind to the old King, the measure of his ego bends his pride. A fitting bow to the rest of us, don’t you think?”
Ashalea grinned from ear to ear. Yes, she was beginning to like this woman very much. She reached for the handle but stopped midway as Shara called out once again.
“Do you think I should send for some elvish company? You lot are very meticulous, so I’ve heard.” She winked, a surprising singsong laugh following her into the room.
Ashalea screwed her nose up and turned the handle. Stepping through the door, she marvelled at yet another flawless room, lavishly decorated with a huge four-poster bed, a chaise for reading, and numerous furnishings that detailed water creatures or plant life.
She made straight for the bed and collapsed, sighing as she felt the covers eat up her slim body. For some reason, she replayed what the King had said over and over in her mind, and it occurred to her that in one way, he was right to judge her. She curled her feet up and wrapped her arms around her frame, frowning.
She was an outsider. Not just to the Aquafarian Province, but to all Elven lands. She knew nothing of her heritage nor to which elvish race she belonged. The home she grew up in had contained plenty of books, but no elvish lore, and her parents failed to provide answers, shrugging off the subject, claiming all ties to the provinces were severed in the past. Their faces would strain, and they’d grow quiet, so eventually, she stopped asking. Even Wezlan would avoid such conversations. But she had to wonder, and she theorised.
The Woodland elves are fair, with blonde, brown and red hair. The elves here are darker with blonde, blue, green and purple hair. Mother had brown hair and father had black. So, where do I belong?
There was only one elvish city she hadn’t seen yet. The Moonglade Meadows. Curious, she opened the bedside drawer and found a handheld mirror inside. Sprawling back onto the bed she held it next to her face and peered at the reflection.
Silver hair. Green eyes. Golden brown skin. She looked at her angular face, freckles and lips, and all she saw was a stranger staring back at her. A dirty one, despite her swim earlier. Exasperated, she cast the mirror aside, and it shatt
ered in the corner.
Guilty, she eyed off the broken shards, seeing her face peering back at her multiple times.
What a mockery of me. She frowned. Perhaps a bath isn’t a bad idea.
She was just about to leave when a tap on the door signalled company. Further inspection revealed a servant, equipped with a cart laden with fruits, cheeses and soft breads. The young lady smiled softly and squeezed in, rather plump as she was, and set a few trays down. She curtsied quickly and bobbed out the door again before Ashalea could manage words.
The food was too tempting to ignore and Ashalea was wolfing down the goods with nary a chew in between. The fruit was ripe and juicy, and the bread, warm and springy on the inside, crunched as she pulled it in half. Music to her ears. She washed it down with sweet wine, swirling it in her mouth and gulping until the contents of the glass were spent and her stomach was bulging in protest. She patted it for good measure and lay down on the chaise, her eyes nodding off and all thoughts shutting down.
◆◆◆
Ashalea woke to an insistent knocking, which only seemed to grow louder and longer the more she left it. Yawning, she climbed off the bed and groggily dragged her feet to the door.
This time a small group of elf-maidens curtsied and then giggled before streaming in. They shooed her to the dresser and began fussing with her hair and face, marvelling at her silver waves and gushing over her beauty. Still half asleep, Ashalea just left them to it, feeling her eyelids droop a little as they brushed her mane.
One of them offered her a pink liquid, which she drank gratefully and without question. Like silk it slithered down her throat and wrapped around her innards, sparking her body with renewed energy. Her eyes lifted, and her body responded with vigour, ready for battle at a moment’s notice.