by Aya Knight
The sand-people tightened their formation around Neelan. “Do not approach our Queen in such a manner. Should you attempt to lay harm upon her, you will fall by our hands,” Reem spoke to the elf.
The male elf snickered and turned to Kale. “Fancy tricks you bring.” He mocked Kale with more laughter. “But, it really is mere child’s play.” His arms stiffened as each palm opened wide. Instantly, two blades materialized; each emitting a faint glow. He spun the blades within each hand.
Kale held his glare, not amused by the elf’s ability.
“Not impressed?” The frost elf vanished. “How about now?”
From his peripheral vision, Kale could see an arrow aimed at his skull. The male elf stood to his side, a white, glowing bow held aloft.
“Enough!” Neelan shouted.
Instantly, the frost elf lowered the bow, allowing it to absorb back into his palm. “Anything for you.” He bowed.
Kale mustered all his will not to knee the male elf in his flawless face.
“What is a frost elf doing here, meddling in our affairs? Is this territory part of your frozen citadel?” Neelan questioned the unusual behavior for his kind.
“It is your arrival, Milady, which is meddlesome—though I cannot say it is a bad thing. You are a striking creature.” His pale eyes peered into hers through long strands of white hair. “Do not confuse me with my misguided brethren. You see, me and my people are not like them. We can feel—admiration, jealousy,” he shot a look at Kale before returning his attention to Neelan, “and love.” He smiled. “Because of this, we are seen as weak, inferior, and with great faults. We are shunned from birth and tossed out into the cold to perish—disposable, as we are seen. Many of us do not live to see daybreak, while others are fortunate enough to be retrieved by those in our camp.” He paused, “But enough of me—why are you here? I have not seen an outsider since he arri—well, it has been awhile.”
“Wait a moment; you have seen someone else? Was he human?” Kale pressed the subject.
“It was nothing. Now tell me about you.” He deterred the topic.
“We’ve come to see the lovely sights of Sundra,” Kale spoke with heavy sarcasm.
“I see we are going nowhere with this. Come with me then, I will take you to my small village,” the elf replied.
“Are you not worrisome of leading strangers into your home?” Neelan questioned.
“Milady, I can assure you, your group poses no threat to us,” he spoke with confidence.
Kale rolled his eyes and shook his head at the elf’s egotistical behavior. Yet, he knew finding food and shelter was imperative. They had crossed no game since arriving, and their bags were empty of food.
Neelan once more raised her bow. “How can we be sure you’re trustworthy? We don’t even know your name.”
“Yes,” the male elf spun around, “pardon my poor manners.” He instantly appeared before her, gently moving her bow to the side. “My name, Milady, is Lox.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind an ear before quickly teleporting outside of their circle.
Kale gritted his teeth and took Neelan’s hand into his own. “We stay only a single day to recover from the cold,” he muttered.
“You know, I never did invite you to stay.” Lox spoke as he held his back to the group. “But, I could never leave someone so beautiful out here with a storm coming.”
“Aw, and here I was thinking he wouldn’t notice my big brown eyes,” Illadar spoke, leaving he and Kale in a fit of laughter.
“Ah, humans—as unamusing as ever.” Lox strode past the trees with perfect posture. “Do not fall behind. We must make it to the enclosure before the next snow begins to fall.” He looked up at the branches, which had begun to grow scarce, no longer protecting them from the sky above.
They walked for a brief period before coming to a wall of trees. The trunks grew so tightly together they were nearly impossible to see through.
Lox approached the trees. He raised a palm to his forehead. “How foolish of me. You are unable to manipulate energy to pass—my forgetful memory serves me no good at times. Follow me.” He led them around a bend to a large mound of snow, piled up against the border of trees. “We pass through with teleportation; however, you may enter through here.”
Kale and Illadar stared forward with confusion.
Lox looked up to the sky and muttered foul words beneath his breath. He walked over to the mound and sighed. “Milady, I cannot imagine how these two could possibly provide you with the company you deserve. Allow me.” He flicked his wrist and an orb of energy exploded into the snow. “This entry path has not been used for some time, though it will lead you to our village. I shall escort you so that you find no trouble upon your arrival.” Lox entered through the narrow hole that caused him to hunch over.
“You’ve gotta be foolin’ me.” Illadar ran a hand over his head. “After all this is over, I’m never goin’ through any place that is less than twice the size of my body. I think that the Gods must find amusement in my misfortune with tight places.” He squeezed his shoulder’s forward and followed behind Lox.
The passage didn’t take long to pass through and Kale and his companions soon found themselves standing before three angered frost elves.
“You dare bring outsiders to our home?!” The oldest male elf bellowed. He thrust his arm to the side, summoning a mighty sword that made even Illadar’s blade seem inferior. “Leave this place at once!”
“Wait!” Lox threw his hands up. “They bring no harm. They merely need shelter from the storm—I could not leave them out to die. You know as well as anyone here how it feels to be left without care. I assure you, they will be no trouble.” He stood near Neelan.
The older elf cleared his throat before wrinkling the skin between his brows. “Out!” He demanded once again.
“At ease!” A voice called out.
The three guards spun around as an elven woman approached. Her long, flowing raven hair fell upon her back; a single silver strand traced the outline of her face. Pale, blue eyes stared forward tenderly as her arms extended wide.
“If my son says they are safe, then we welcome them with respect.” The woman embraced Lox, who awkwardly looked to the side. “Come, come.” She gestured for the group to follow.
They walked behind her in silence, unsure of what to expect in the foreign village. Kale wondered if the frost elves would show them the same hostility as the high-elves had.
Elves, young and old, began to emerge from their wooden cabins. Much to the group’s surprise, the villagers appeared excited for their arrival. The children bounced happily, while adults smiled and gossiped amongst one another.
Kale lowered his stare to avoid eye contact. He felt as though he were a rare specimen, being inspected. Despite the welcoming demeanor from the frost-elves, it was an uncomfortable feeling to have so much attention targeting them.
They reached the end of a snow-covered path and stood before an old, wood shack.
“You may find shelter here for the night. Please warm yourselves inside. I know it is not much for luxury, but it should suffice until morning. Lox will guide you to the food, when ready. Please excuse the behavior from the others. You are our first visitors in quite some time and they are intrigued. Many have never seen a human—or high elf.” She smiled at Neelan. “If you need me, I shall be in the tallest cabin to the western village wall.” She bowed. “You may call me, Pahlain.”
Lox led them inside the wood shack and pointed to the narrow bed. “She sleeps here.” He nodded to Neelan. “The rest of you sleep on the floor. There is wood and a mantle over there. Warm yourselves and then meet me outside.” He exited the cabin without further discussion.
The group used a nearby lantern to light a crackling fire to dry their cold, dampened pants. Once the flames dwindled d
own to embers, they made way outside.
Lox sat upon a thick log, a flute cradled within his hands. He raised his lips and began to blow. The sweetest melody they ever heard filled the air.
Neelan closed her eyes and listened until the tranquil song came to an end. “That was beautiful.”
Lox leapt from the log. “Not nearly as marvelous as you, Milady.” He took her hand and brought it near his lips. He paused, with his mouth just above her skin, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. With a quick glance toward the hell-bent fury in Kale’s eyes, he released his grip. “Come, let us eat.” Lox spoke casually, as though the situation had never occurred.
Kale had to contain every ounce of his desire to rip the elf’s face to shreds. Though he would never willingly admit the fact—he knew he wouldn’t win a battle within the frost elf village. Starting a quarrel would only place his friends in mortal danger. He grunted angrily, exhaling loudly from his nose as he followed Lox.
After rounding a small bend, the sound of music filled the air.
“Just in time.” Lox smiled. “You’ve arrived on the night of our solstice festival.”
A blazing bonfire lit the center of an open area, where many frost elves danced and mingled. Upon sight of Kale and his group, the elves turned. The music stopped and the level of cheerful commotion lowered to a hushed whisper.
“They are friend, and most welcome within our village,” Pahlain spoke. She stood proud with arms held wide.
Just then, a young elf that appeared no older than a human child, approached Illadar. She looked up at his towering frame with wide, twinkling eyes. “For you,” her tiny voice squeaked as she held up a necklace of white flowers. “Grown by my family.” She smiled proudly.
Illadar lowered himself to a knee, level with the young elf. He gently took the gift and patted her upon the head. “My greatest appreciation for your most beautiful necklace.” He bowed his head, allowing the wreath of petals to drape down upon his collar-bones. “I will cherish it.” He smiled, touched by the girl’s generosity.
Without warning, she gripped his thick hand. “A dance, please?”
He looked to Marg, who nodded in approval while smiling brightly.
“It would be an honor.” Illadar rose to his feet and walked to the center, near the fire.
Pahlain laughed cheerfully. With a clap of her hands, the music began to play.
“It is nice to see joy once more. I recall a time when my own village was at peace.” Reem patted his hands together in the beat of the sound.
Kale momentarily allowed his guard to fall; he had never heard Reem express happiness. The sight made him smile. Inside the small village, he felt hope. The elves had all lost something—and yet, they still found a place for happiness. It was inspiring.
“May I?” An elderly male’s voice broke Kale’s thoughts. His leathery hand reached out to Neelan. “A dance, if you please?” The old elf’s smile was nearly hidden within his waist-length beard.
“Certainly.” Neelan curtseyed and placed her palm into his.
Kale chuckled, finding himself enjoying the festival more than he had anticipated. He tapped his foot and swayed his body, allowing the music to consume him as he admired Neelan across the circle. He watched as she twirled and moved rhythmically. Her hair fell wildly across her face, giving Kale further appreciation of her natural beauty.
The elderly male elf paused as a familiar figure came into sight. Kale growled as Lox approached Neelan, pulling her into a dance.
As Neelan dipped back, Lox’s eyes fell directly upon Kale. His perfect smile sickened Kale, who immediately began to walk toward them.
“Ah, there you are.” Pahlain wrapped an arm around Kale’s shoulder, leading him in the opposite direction. “My apologies for not finding you sooner; as you can see, the festival can be quite distracting.” She chuckled. “Please sit.” Her hand patted a wooden stump.
Kale lowered himself, agitated by the situation, yet not wanting to seem ungrateful for their hospitality. He frequently glanced into the crowd, struggling to keep track of Neelan and Lox.
“Forgive my son.” Pahlain spoke as she screened Kale’s expression. “We do not get visitors here often, outside of our own kind. His behavior reflects his juvenile excitement of the situation.”
Kale shifted uncomfortably.
“It is good you arrived on this day,” she changed the subject, “the storm would pose threat to even our kind.” She motioned toward the sky. “You are safe here.”
Kale glanced up, mesmerized by the sight. Snow fell heavily from the darkness above, yet disappeared before reaching the rooftops.
“Our village is protected by a barrier tonight. No one may come or go until dawn’s light. Your group arrived just before it was set in place.” Pahlain explained.
“We appreciate all you have done. I know it must be uncomfortable to have strangers here. I assure you, there will be no trouble,” Kale replied, more grateful than ever to be shielded from the dreadful snow.
Pahlain nodded, and suddenly, her warm eyes filled with sadness. “You are such a sweet young man. I would like to share a story with you.” She placed a hand maternally upon Kale’s. “Long ago, this village was built by four of us. It was a quaint camp. We had been exiled from the citadel; thrown out to our deaths.”
Kale raised an eyebrow.
“I am sure my son must have informed you of details by now, but it is true that we are outcasts from the main society of our race. Because we have emotions—because we can feel—the others shunned us. Most are aware from birth if they have this gift. Others discover it when least expected—they are most frightened and uncertain of themselves. In the citadel, we are raised without remorse; to care not for one another.
“For me, my full awakening came while I was with child—my second. Lox at this time was very young, yet I knew from the moment he arrived that there was something different about him. I did not have it in me at that time to toss him out—alone, and sure to perish. So, I hid him from the others, after making them assume I had disposed of him. I could not understand how or why I had concern for this tiny being, and at first, it angered me.” She hung her head as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I was so cruel to Lox, for many years. He remained locked within my chambers where I would release my frustrations upon him for what I did not understand.
“Then, I discovered I was to have her—my daughter. My belly grew, and I could sense my unborn daughter’s heart beating—filled with love and compassion. It was at this time that I came to realize that I was one of them. One of the weak I had been taught were better off dead. Out of fear, I learned to pretend I was still void of emotion. Then, Arliness was born. Her love shined so brightly I knew there would be no concealing the truth.
“I gathered a few of our belongings and left at twilight, manipulating a guard to assume I was to be on watch in his place. Having been a member of the council, I was aware of how to slip past the barrier, set in place to keep no entry—or exit, without a higher authority’s approval. We fled into the frigid darkness without shelter or food—but we were free. At one point, I began to have doubts and wonder if I should have remained back in the citadel. I feared the worst for myself and my children. But then, one of our brethren appeared, beckoning us to follow. He led us here, to this very location where no more than cloth-strung tents hung. For the first time, I realized we were not alone—we were where we belonged. My children could laugh and grow amongst friends. It took great effort, but eventually we were able to build this village you see now. Our guards frequent the snowy plains at night in search for any others who may have been tossed into the cold.” She straightened her posture. “Though we have built a wonderful life here, Lox has never forgotten the terrible things he had to endure.” She wiped another tear from beneath her eye. “Since we arrived here, he has a
lways been by my daughter’s side. He’s cared for, and protected her, as though she were his own. She is the one individual he loves unconditionally.” Pahlain’s eyes drifted to the side. “Arliness, my daughter, was born without the ability to manipulate energy as we can. She is not very strong, and would never attempt to harm another. I must ask, why have you come here?”
The sudden question caught Kale off-guard as he stared a moment in silence.
“I—I am looking for someone. A man who has caused great wrong where I come from. I will not leave Sundra until I bring justice with my blade,” Kale finally replied.
Pahlain lifted Kale’s hand. “I can tell you have a good heart.” She leaned toward him, her eyes glassy with a sense of longing. “My daughter has gone missing … I fear she has been taken by another. If it had been our heartless brethren, they would have merely disposed of her life and left her carcass upon the ground. We have looked above and below the snow, and she is nowhere to be found. I can feel in my heart that she is alive.” Her expression grew serious and stern. “If you find the man you seek, I beg of you to ensure he does not have my child. When your group arrived today—I felt a renewed hope. When life seems dark and uncertain, sometimes we must let our hope guide us … for right now, hope is all I have …”
“Mother, stop filling him with foolish words and requests. I have already told you that I will bring Arliness back.” Lox approached and squeezed himself between Kale and Pahlain.
Kale felt his blood begin to boil at the sight of Lox, and quickly stood. “I will do as you ask.” He looked directly at Pahlain. “We leave at dawn’s light.” With a slight bow, he left for his cabin.
The fire crackled, and Kale couldn’t help but to lay himself near its warmth. The heat soothed his body, calming his frustration.
A gentle breeze pushed its way in as the wooden door creaked open. Neelan entered and made way for Kale. She sat next to him and extended her open palms to the fire.