The room was spacious enough for a narrow bed, a large tub, and a small table with one chair. The chest containing the mirror sat next to the bed. Bridgett watched gratefully as the nieko turned a handle and filled the tub with water, using a wand to heat it until the water steamed. She pointed at the water and said, “To bathe.” She returned to the chest and then placed a dish of fragrant sand on the edge of the tub. “To wash,” she said with a heavy accent. Before she turned to leave, the nieko drew back the light quilt on the bed to reveal a pillow and intricately embroidered sheets. “To sleep,” she said and then walked toward the door.
“Aribel?” Bridgett called out, using the name Velien had mentioned. The small girl turned back and smiled encouragingly. “Thank you. It has been a pleasure to meet you.” Aribel curtseyed gracefully and left the room without a word. Bridgett had little time to ponder the strange behavior of the nieko. She quickly slipped out of her dress and sank into the steaming water to wash away the dirt and sweat of traveling. The sand smelled of flowers and tropical fruits, and it lathered luxuriously as she scrubbed her skin and hair.
Eventually, the water cooled and Bridgett climbed from the tub and fell exhausted into bed. Sleep claimed her quickly, and she dreamed vividly of Osric’s anguish at her refusal to return to him. In spite of her dreams, eating good food and taking a warm bath before bed allowed her to sleep deeply, and she woke feeling well rested and ready to face whatever the day may bring. As she opened her eyes and tried to pull herself from the lull of sleep, Bridgett realized what had woken her. Aribel stood at the foot of her bed, singing softly in a strange language. The slow rhythm of the girl’s song wafted through the room, drawing Bridgett’s awareness to their surroundings. Bridgett lay still, smiling at the calm beauty of the song, but when Aribel realized she was awake she brought the song to a close.
“To dress.” Aribel held a neatly folded pile of fabric out toward Bridgett. In the dim light of a single torch-stone, Bridgett looked at the nieko’s features and again found the resemblance to the elves remarkable. Though her sharply pointed ears and velveteen fur gave her a cat-like appearance, the high cheekbones, wide eyes, and delicate features made her look like she could be a child of the elves.
“Aribel, where does your race come from? Are your people related to the elves?” The girl looked at her curiously, with her head tilted to one side and her thin eyebrows raised up in question.
“To dress,” she said, raising the clothing higher in her outstretched arms. Bridgett sighed. She suspected that the girl spoke more of the common language than she wanted to demonstrate, but it seemed she would not be able to engage her in conversation.
“To dress,” Bridgett echoed, taking the bundle of cloth and resigning herself to preparing for the meeting with the Council rather than discovering the secrets of the nieko. She unfolded the fabric to reveal a long, white gown with tiny green leaves embroidered on the neckline and hem. She slipped the dress over her head and Aribel nodded in approval. The little nieko picked up the comb from the table and climbed onto the bed behind Bridgett. She proceeded to comb her long auburn hair and then she swept it up into an elaborate knot and pinned it in place with deft fingers. Bridgett had forgotten the sharp claws at the end of Aribel’s fingers until after the girl had finished her hair and returned the comb to the chest.
“To eat,” Aribel said softly, pointing at the bowl of fruit on the table. Bridgett plucked a perfectly ripe apple from the bowl and stepped out onto the small balcony that led off of her room. The sky was still dark, and the city was quiet. As Bridgett ate, gazing out at the vague forms of the tree city against the small pockets of sky dotted with stars, Aribel opened her door to admit Velien. He joined her on the balcony.
“I cannot say what will happen today when you appear before the Council. It is unlikely that they will grant whatever request you may have. However, I have some advice for you that may help.” Bridgett turned toward him, grateful for any information that might give her a better chance of winning the elves to her cause. “Do not speak to them like a human.” Bridgett’s shoulders fell in disappointment.
“How else shall I speak, Velien? I am a human.”
“Do not be offended. I do not mean that you should try not to be human.” He grasped the railing and stared out into the dark. “Humans live short lives, but they are filled with passion. Humans speak of every challenge as if it were a pivotal moment before the end of all time. Humans also have a knack for deceit. They strive to manipulate and twist what is real to fit their fleeting needs.”
“My, Velien. How could I be offended by such kind words about my race?” Bridgett’s sarcasm was not missed by the elf, but he continued without altering his tone.
“That is precisely my point. Humans rarely say what they mean. I would offer you some advice for today. Do not attempt to flatter the Council. Do not lie. Do not twist the truth to serve a purpose. Speak plainly and say only what must be said to accomplish what you have come here for. Do not argue, weep, yell, or hurl insults. You must give the Council the opportunity to see past your humanity if you wish to gain their aid.” Bridgett nodded, sensing Velien’s genuine desire to help her. He was not attempting to insult her or her race. He truly wished to provide her with advice that may help her succeed.
“I will heed your advice. Thank you for helping me.” Velien smiled, but Bridgett felt that somehow the smile was out of place. His expression seemed to hide something else, but she felt no malice in his emotions.
“Shall we go? It is a long walk to the Council Hall.” Velien plucked a few different types of fruit from the bowl on the table and tossed a fist-sized purple fruit with fuzzy skin to Bridgett. “Fuel for the trip.”
Bridgett nodded and followed him out of the room, down the spiral stairs, and back out into the city. They regained the path they had deviated from the night before to reach the inn. As they walked along the trail of roots and limbs, Bridgett felt somehow saddened by the silence around them. The previous day, the city had been so full of life. Yet, in the dim span of time before daylight, the city seemed deserted. The Elvenwood was less lustrous without the diffused golden sunlight of daytime. Everything around her seemed grey and cold, and Bridgett had a haunting image of what D’assartis would look like if war were to reach the Elvenwood. She shook the thought from her mind and hurried after Velien.
Their path led steadily upward, winding through the city as it climbed the side of a mountain. Soon they had passed most of the homes and shops grown into the trees, and the foliage around them became sparser. More of the sky became visible, and Bridgett looked around her as the horizon began to lighten. Heavy rainclouds could be seen in the distance, but the air above D’assartis stayed clear and dry. Bridgett felt the strain of the climb in her muscles, but she pushed herself harder to keep pace with Velien. Bridgett could see a large tree looming above them where the path seemed to end. Soon, they were climbing a steep stairway leading up to the tree formation.
As they approached the top of the mountain, an ethereal, high-pitched chant could be made out. Under the piercing chant, deep notes countered the inspired vocalization in a beautiful harmony. Bridgett took in a short breath, in awe of the massive wooden formation before her. Hundreds of visible openings with the steady, unwavering light of the torch-stones lit the interior. Row upon row of solemn figures stood inside the windows in long white robes flecked in living vines. Each of the robed chanters had stunning, bright-red hair.
The whole of the enclosure was bathed in a soft yellow light. As she approached a large opening that appeared to be the only door, Bridgett could see massive pillars of intertwined branches growing in evenly spaced locations throughout the room. The same wooden steps that had brought them to the chamber led up a steep incline at the far end of the room, where a dozen elven faces stared at her from atop their throne-like, living chairs. They peered down on her smugly with little tolerance for her presence—a stark contrast to the treatment she had received at the inn.
The robed men and women who lined the outside of the room took notice of her entrance, and the chant stopped with perfect unity throughout the room. Yet the low tone remained. It occurred to her that it was likely the resonance from the breeze blowing through the window-like openings throughout, but the sound was too regular. It still changed its pitch as if it were harmonizing with some unheard music.
What crossed Bridget's mind was hard for her to believe. Is it possible the tree is singing? As if in answer to her thoughts, Velien stepped in front of her and addressed the council.
“Our Mother sings a welcome to our guest. Will the Council hear her?”
With practiced ceremony, a chorus of flame-haired elves at the sides of the room replied in unison, “We sing a welcome with our Mother.” The Council gazed down at her from the dais of thrones. Lord Aveloc sat on the far left, but it was another who spoke in answer to Velien’s question.
“The Council will hear her.” His voice was rich and strong, and his features spoke of even greater age than Bridgett had seen in Lord Aveloc’s eyes. The circlet on his brow was similar to the others, but it was cast of a red-hued metal rather than silver. All twelve of the Elven lords and ladies gazed at her expectantly. Bridgett felt waves of emotions pouring toward her from all those gathered in the large space. The majority of what bombarded her was curiosity, but she also felt strong feelings of hatred, contempt, pity, and something much like disgust. The few supportive emotions that reached her were vague and fleeting, but they gave her the courage she needed to speak. She thought about Velien’s advice to speak plainly, tell the truth, and avoid flattery.
“I come before you today because Archana is at war. Though the conflict has yet to reach the shores of the Elven Realm, it is inevitable. An army marches for the Irua Realm with the intention of invasion under the guise of retribution. Though it is the power of the turgent that commands the army, there are those in the Human Realm that oppose the war and wish to prevent the destruction of an entire race. However, the forces that are gathering in opposition of the turgent’s army lack the strength needed to be victorious. I seek your aid in defending against this corruption of power.”
“You make an elaborate claim, human.” The Lady to Lord Aveloc’s right spoke softly, but there was little kindness in her tone. “Are you to have us believe that if we do not send an army with you, a bloody battle will erupt on our shores? Shall we tremble at your tale?” Bridgett stared at her, pushing down her anger and desperation.
“I cannot say when the fighting will come here, but come it will. Eventually, the man behind this war will become unsatisfied by the power he gains, and he will seek more. The human forces striving to stop him are led by a great wizard, but he has too few people to lead. I fear that without your aid, Osric will fail. Then, yes, sooner or later your realm will also be at war.”
“Did you say Osric?” Lord Aveloc asked loudly.
“I did. I came here to seek aid for his cause in defending the peace that was stolen when the ratification ceremony was attacked. Those responsible for the attack are the same men who seek to bring war to innocent people for their own gain.” Lord Aveloc spoke a word in Elven and each of the Council touched the fingers of their right hands to their circlets. Bridgett suspected the crowns were not just symbols of status, but were also likely spelled to allow the Council to communicate telepathically. Bridgett watched with bated breath as the Council silently communed. At first their faces were closed and expressionless, but after a moment several of the members looked at Lord Aveloc sharply and then stared down at Bridgett with varying expressions of respect and surprise. Bridgett felt exposed standing in the center of the hollow with so many eyes questioning her, without knowing what they may be discussing. She fidgeted slightly but tried to maintain a steady composure. The Lord with the red circlet broke the silence.
“The Elven Realm owes no allegiance to the humans. With the failure of the ratification signing, we are tempted to wait and see what will unfold. We have no reason for haste.” Bridgett’s eyes fell to the floor, anticipating his words of denial. “However, your presence here may indicate that action is prudent. Prophecy seems to follow your footsteps. Yet, there is more to your request than you likely know. We must discuss the matter further. The Council will reconvene at sunset.” Bridgett nodded in acceptance, grasping to what little hope there may be that the elves would aid Osric in his fight.
“Thank you for hearing my plea.” She turned to Velien as the lords and ladies rose from their wooden thrones and descended from the dais, indicating that the meeting of the Council had concluded.
As she stepped toward the doorway, the great tree trembled beneath her feet, and Bridgett felt as much as heard a deep groaning tear through the air. Though the tone sounded much like the harmonizing resonance she had heard as she entered, this sound spoke of traumatic pain and despair. Many of the elves fell to their knees and cried out with the Mother.
“Velien, what’s happening?” Bridgett hurried to his side, terrified by the pain and confusion she felt as she listened to the tree’s lament.
“I do not know.” His terrible grimace echoed what Bridgett felt. She was overwhelmed by the waves of emotion flowing around her, washed in agony, terror, and desperation. She struggled to close off her gift before the empathy paralyzed her. Chaos broke out in the chamber as the elves sought an explanation for the Mother’s pain. The Council regained the dais and called for silence. As the elves stared up at them expectantly, a haunting hush fell over the masses gathered within the tree. The Council brought their fingers to their circlets, pooling their thoughts and knowledge to seek an answer. Tears streamed down many of their faces as realization took hold.
“A dragon is attacking the city of Te’lador. The Elvenwood is burning.” The High-Lord spoke as he broke contact with his red crown. His voice rang out through the tree with terrible authority, portraying his certainty along with his grief. Bridgett caught the eye of Lord Aveloc as the Council began issuing orders. He shook his head slightly and turned away from her. Tears slipped down her cheeks as Bridgett struggled to understand what was happening. No dragon would ever attack an elven city. Something was terribly wrong. Velien grabbed her arm and ushered her out of the chamber. He hurried down the path toward the city as Bridgett strived to keep pace with him.
“We must get you back to the gate,” Velien said, urging her to move faster.
“What?” said Bridget. “Velien, this can’t be true. A dragon would not—”
“The order has already been issued to close the borders of our lands,” Velien retorted adamantly. “If we don’t get you to the gate swiftly, you will not be allowed to leave.”
“But, how could they know?” asked Bridgett.
“The Council here can speak to many others through the ga’eria, the circlets they wear. The report surely came directly from Te’lador.”
“But a dragon wouldn’t—”
“A dragon did. We must go.” Velien’s tone allowed for no argument. Tears stung Bridgett’s eyes as she ran swiftly along the wooden path. Suddenly, Velien slowed to a stop. “We will never get there in time.”
Bridgett was frozen with panic. She could not allow herself to become trapped in the elven city. She must find a way to help Osric before it was too late. Knowing that she should not risk it, she grabbed Velien’s arm and whispered under her breath in desperation.
“Eo ire itum.” Bridgett and a very stunned elf appeared in the forest just inside the Elvenwood gate to D’assartis. She could see guards leaping through the trees and casting spells around the edge of the forest. Velien shook her grip from his arm and backed away as he looked around.
“How did we? What did you?” Velien stammered, looking at her with blatant distrust. Bridgett was afraid of Velien discovering her use of unknown magic, and she was even more afraid of betraying Osric with her actions, so she lied.
“Velien, how did we get here? Did you do this?” He gazed at her in confusion for a moment. Then
he shook his head briskly. Though he did not seem to believe her, he did not confront her further.
“However it happened, we may still be able to get you out of here.” Velien raised his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. The same elf that had originally refused to allow her to enter the city dropped down before them from the branches above. Velien greeted him quickly with a hand signal as he said, “The human must leave before the gate is sealed.” The tall archer glared at her with narrowed eyes and thin lips.
“I do not know how you could possibly have anything to do with the attack on our lands, but I find your presence here suspect. Perhaps it would be wiser to detain you for questioning.” Before Bridgett could object, Velien interrupted.
“The Mother sang for her.” The suspicious guard looked surprised. “The Council welcomed her formally and likely would have approved her request for aid if the meeting had not been interrupted by the attack. We have no reason to question her.” He held the taller elf’s stern gaze without flinching.
The Well of Strands (Osric's Wand, Book Three) Page 16