by Aya Knight
“It will be all right, Neelan.” Kale wanted to ease her nerves. He understood this was a difficult time for her and returning to her homeland was the last thing she ever wanted to do again.
She said nothing, but continued walking in silence as she crossed her arms tightly around her body.
“Can you tell me more about the dark elves? I would like to know more about our opponent.” Kale made another attempt to break the uncomfortable atmosphere between them.
More silence followed before Neelan finally sighed, giving in to his request. “I’ve told you before that only a small amount of dark elves have been accepted to live within Tyrione. They are rarities among their kind who have chosen to leave behind their roots of chaos and the forbidden magic—Drell. Though the council wanted to be diplomatic and granted them approval to live within the kingdom, the dark elves are still carefully monitored and not trusted—though this accusation will always be denied. I know the truth; I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. There has been an age-old rivalry between the dark and high elves, though, it was long before my time, and I know little about the reasoning. The dark elves I have encountered within the kingdom seem fairly normal to me, although they appear to be closed off from interaction with many of the high elves—it’s as if they are still frightened that one day we will suddenly turn on them all. Nearly all the dark elves have settled into the Catalythe district of the kingdom. It’s a dark, overshadowed section near the rear of Tyrione. My impression, from what I have seen, is they prefer to be where there is minimal sunlight.”
“Where do the dark elves come from? And why do they behave so differently from high elves?” Kale’s hunger to obtain more knowledge about the elves continued to increase.
“You sure ask a lot of questions.” Neelan shook her head. “Honestly, I only know what I’ve heard in stories told by elders at the summer festival. They say the dark elves dwell upon the island called Necron.”
Thomas’ eyes widened. “I have heard many foul things of that island. It’s a place of death and darkness. Though, I have never dared to step foot on its cursed soil, I have been close enough to hope I never return near again.”
“How?” Both Kale and Neelan spoke simultaneously.
“It was another of our many training excursions. We set sail to the frozen continent Sundra in order to master the art of conjuring flame while amidst extreme incompatible conditions. A dear friend of mine, and fellow student, saw something from our boat which must have been of great interest on the shores of Necron. Although, we warned him to stay, he seemed crazed and commanded us to stay back or risk being obliterated by his magic.” Thomas sighed. “Something had happened to my friend—it was as though he became an entirely different person. He certainly wasn’t the soft spoken, kind-hearted individual who had left Ravondore.” Thomas rubbed his hands together as he solemnly spoke.
“The training was intended for senior students who were already experienced and trustworthy with the usage of magic—thus, no master spell-caster had come to supervise us. We were being monitored by a direct apprentice in his final years of schooling; he was to score each of us on our performance.” Thomas cleared his throat. “As I was saying, we were so stunned by my dear friend’s behavior that not a single one of us thought to use our magical abilities to restrain him, not even the direct apprentice, who seemed to buckle under tension. My irrational thinking and lack of judgment on that day is something I will regret until the end of my life.” He exhaled. “Before reality sunk in for any of us, my friend teleported off our vessel and onto the shore of Necron, which was completely veiled in shadows. We sat impatiently and waited for him to return; each of us too frightened to venture after him. When nightfall arrived, we made the decision to anchor in the distance offshore. Each of us agreed to rotate watch in case our friend could be seen. We would continue to yell out to him in hopes that he would come to his senses and return.” Thomas looked forward and Kale could read the expression of sadness upon his face.
“So, what happened?” Neelan asked.
“The sun rose the next morning—mysteriously seeming to pass right over the land of Necron, which remained dark and gloomy. We continued to call his name for hours, shooting our magic into the sky in desperation, hoping he would see it and make his way to the shore. Finally, we knew that we must redirect our ship and return home. I was the one voted to teleport back in order to return quickly with the report on what had happened. The direct apprentice was to remain onboard to ensure the others returned safely.”
“Did ya’ ever find him?” Illadar was now equally interested in the story.
“I’m afraid so…” Thomas’ voice dropped. “That morning I bid farewell to my friends who were to remain on board and sail home. I was prepared to teleport to Ravondore as we had planned when I heard the first of many horrified screams. It came from a female student who had glanced overboard. I ran to see what happened, following her paralyzed stare. It felt as though a weight dropped within my gut as I gazed upon her findings. There, floating in the water alongside of our boat, was the mangled and torn body pieces of my friend. He met an unimaginable fate. To this very day, I cannot fathom what sort of brutal beast could have done such a thing. It wasn’t as though this was your average wild creature, for he had not been eaten. His body was simply ripped apart and tossed without remorse into the sea for us to find. It seemed apparent, whoever it was—mocked us from afar. For that reason, I am quite biased toward the continent of Necron. I believe I shall always have a bitter place for it within my heart.”
“I’m really sorry.” Kale was at a loss for what else he could say after such a horrible story.
“I wonder if it could have been the use of Drell that drove your friend to insanity. It surely sounds as though it was that foul magic at play,” Neelan huffed in disgust, glancing toward Kale. “I do hope this clarifies why I say we are absolutely nothing like the dark elves. Though, I am not fond of my own heritage, the high elves believe in balance within the world and would never seek to obtain great amounts of power or destruction as the dark elves do.”
As they climbed to the top of another sizeable grassy mound, the massive white city came into view—Tyrione—the kingdom of high elves. Tall, white cylindrical structures peaked toward the sky, towering above the massive ivory stone walls that bordered the entire city; a grand sight to behold. They could see a large tower within the center of the kingdom. Its nearly pearlescent walls and cone-like rooftop were detailed with gleaming gold decorative accents that added to its stunning impact. The high elves obviously took great pride in their homeland.
Upon descending the hill, Kale saw many elven men stationed upon the wall. As they approached the massive steel gates, Kale could tell by Neelan’s movements that she desired to turn and run, escaping the situation entirely.
“Shenu!” A man called down to them from within the gatehouse.
“Ken en ei, Neelan.” She pulled her hood back to reveal her long pointed ears. “Ei neishen quey eerend.”
“Morila ke, eitte raylea te shaelya censal,” the guard replied.
“Their native tongue is English; they do not understand Ceruya. Please refrain from speaking it while in their presence.”
“I see—outsiders.” The male elf glanced toward them scornfully. “Please move; the gates will be opening. The council will be notified of your arrival, as well.”
Neelan bit her lip, nodding, as she led the three men away from the gates’ reach. The engraved steel groaned as it slowly began to open toward them—driven by a magical force that would not allow access into the city unless granted from an insider.
“Welcome home, Neelan.” The elven man who had been inside the gatehouse now stood within the entrance. Clad in thin, silvery armor with gold-dipped edges, his features were flawless with skin appearing as though made of porcelain. The man’s golden hair was pulled back into a
neat ponytail which trailed down to his mid-back.
“Thank you,” she replied stiffly.
“Is your father expecting you?” the guard questioned.
“No, Lorin, and I ask that you do not tell him I am here. My business does not lie with my father.”
“As you wish.” Lorin paused, but then continued, “Are you going to introduce me to your companions?” As he glanced up to better view the three men, his near perfect face wrinkled in disgust. “What is this?! Neelan, you bring humans into Tyrione? The council will not be pleased with this.”
“They are my friends, Lorin.”
“You must bring them to meet the council at once. You know very well that humans do not have the authority to walk our streets until formal permission is granted. I am worried for you, Neelan, and I fear the council will be enraged. You have been gone all this time, after having fled from your duties at the Temple of Enya, and now you bring…them here.”
“You know nothing of my past, Lorin,” Neelan’s voice grew grim.
Lorin sighed. “Please forgive me, Neelan. I only meant they are quite displeased toward your actions.” He flashed a flawless smile. “I am just glad you are back.”
“Do not grow accustomed to seeing me. I am not staying long.” Neelan glanced in the opposite direction of him.
Kale was unsure why, but Neelan’s lack of attraction toward the impeccably handsome elf made him happy.
“Where do you plan to go? Tyrione is your home. You know very well the human kingdoms will not ever fully accept you.” Lorin side-stepped into her line of sight.
“Tyrione was my home—it is no more. And I do hope you open your eyes one day to see that not all humans are as vile as you have been led to believe. Besides, I am not leaving Kale.” She glanced toward Kale with her wide violet eyes that twinkled under the sun’s rays of light.
“I see.” Lorin glanced bitterly toward Kale. “So you are the one Neelan fancies—how disgusting.” He turned, heading toward a set of stairs to the gatehouse. “I must return to my post now, before the commander takes notice. It was good to see you, Neelan.”
Once Lorin was no longer in sight, Kale exhaled a lengthy breath. “I dislike him,” he snarled.
“I am very proud of you; the old Kale I once knew would have spouted out some insulting reply directly to his face. I’m thankful you have grown inside and are able to mind your tongue. Had you not, we surely would have been removed from Tyrione before ever making it within the walls.” Thomas smiled warmly.
“You’ll have to excuse Lorin’s poor manners. This is one of the reasons I desire to fit in with human life. The high elves feel they are far superior to humans and look down upon the race. Though, there are some who remain unbiased within the kingdom, they are few. I feel humans are prone to be open-minded and not afraid to explore a broader view of life.”
Kale glanced down, feeling shameful and guilty inside. Viewing the way Lorin had behaved was a direct reflection upon how he once felt. He felt sickened by how he had seen the world. Kale had wasted so many years of his life secluded within the walls of a cave.
“We need to head toward the central tower to speak with the council.” Neelan glanced around in confusion before noticing the tall elven guard approaching. She sighed. “I knew they would send someone.”
“I am here to escort you—and your friends to the tower.” His light turquoise eyes glanced toward the three men. He wore the same style of armor as Lorin and had equally handsome features, though, he appeared to be older.
They followed the elven guard without question, making their way through the city. Kale was amazed with every turn they took—the kingdom was beautiful with clear streams trickling down each main street. Vibrant fish swam within the floral bordered water. It was nothing like what he experienced in Braxle. The rows of houses within Tyrione were nearly all identical in construction, made of solid white stone and topped with bright red roofs. The windows were arched and many had vibrant blooming flower baskets hanging from the base. Surrounding the homes were more colorful plants which created a rainbow of contrasting hues. As they neared the rounded tower, the area grew more lively as cheerful elves could be seen bustling about their daily routines. Guards patrolled the streets with bows and quivers upon their backs, men and women working, and children playfully laughing. The surrounding shops had beautifully hand-painted signs to distinguish their specialties. Had it not been for the occasional contemptuous glares and gossiping whispers as they passed, the city would have seemed a very charming place.
“We arrive at the central tower,” the elven guard announced.
Even more incredible up close, it caused Kale to crick his neck while attempting to view the entire structure. The gold accents upon the tower looked as though vines were climbing around the cylinder-shaped wall. Each golden vine shimmered in the sunlight, creating the visual of the tower itself sparkling. There were no windows or balconies; the building was completely solid, aside from a single entryway.
“Come.” The guard urged them to continue up a short flight of stone steps ending at two enormous green doors.
Kale could see a pair of guards, stationary, staring with blank expression.
“Well, don’t they look delightful?” Kale softly joked.
“Close your mouth, Kale!” Neelan scolded, nudging her elbow into his side.
Their escort spoke to the other two men in Ceruya, the language of high elves, and Kale could only assume it was about meeting with the council. He could instantly tell when the subject of humans was mentioned by the disgusted stares they gave Kale and his friends. After the conversation ended, the two guards moved from their position to push the grand doors open. They creaked inward, revealing a large open room lit by hundreds of candles.
“You may enter.” The guard bowed toward Neelan, “Farewell and good luck.” He turned and left down the stone steps.
The other two guards held their arms extended toward the room, signaling for them to move inside. Neelan led the way as the group entered the area. Their shoes pattered against the ivory marble floor. Aside from the many flickering candles and white stone pillars, there seemed to be nothing—and no one—occupying the room.
“What are we supposed to do now?” Kale whispered.
“Patience, Kale,” Thomas quietly replied. “I can sense a magical presence nearby. We are not alone.”
Neelan took a few steps in front of them. “I must call for the elders of the council. Please remain silent.” She took a deep breath, nervously fidgeting her fingers before speaking, “Ei makeel ulo te laylune queysel o’ Tyrione.”
A heavy silence weighed upon them as they awaited a response.
“We came all the way to the elven kingdom to stand alone within this room?”
“That is enough, Kale!” Neelan snapped.
Before Thomas could comment on Kale’s behavior, the ceiling began to shift and they heard the sound of grinding stone. They glanced up to see circular carvings rotating in a clockwise direction high above their heads. Kale wanted to ask Neelan what was happening, but knew well enough by this point to bite his tongue. This was a mission for Judith—for Ravondore—for the dragons fallen to Jedah’s blade; it was not worth risking their approval to move forward.
Four stone circles descended on heavy metal chains and soon revealed a golden throne upon each. Seated atop each red velvet-lined seat was an elderly elven male. Each of the men appeared equally wrinkled with thin, white hair that traced around their long ears, falling in length to the legs of their thrones. Their silver robes draped against their bodies as though made of a liquid substance.
“Humans, eunae raylea neishen helst?” One of the elders spoke, bringing a hand to his chin. His circular oasis gently swayed above Kale and his companions. The elder narrowed his eyes, awaiting a response.
“Reynessa shi yoria elukatayne reuk oleay shimoy re English moewa,” Neelan replied, obviously intimidated by the elven men.
The same elder who had spoken interlocked his fingers beneath his pointed chin. “I should have known. What a foolish gesture to assume they spoke our tongue.” His cold eyes locked onto the three men. “Tell me, humans, why have you come to our kingdom?”
“We request permission to visit a resident of the city,” Neelan spoke before the others could begin responding.
“Silence, young elf! Do not speak out of turn—traitor to the temple of Enya. You should be grateful to have entry here.” The elder returned his focus to Kale, Thomas, and Illadar. The other three council members adjusted their focus onto them as well, which intensified the already uncomfortable situation. “With whom do you desire to speak and for what business?”
Kale and his friends anxiously looked toward Neelan; they did not want to reveal any inappropriate information that could possibly jeopardize their mission. Neelan returned the stare as she widened her eyes and gestured with body language to answer the question. She knew any disobedience on her part would result in removal from the kingdom, and in turn, her human companions would be forced out as well.
“You there.” Another member of the council extended a bony finger toward Kale, who in return pointed to himself in question. “You will speak on behalf of your party,” The elf commanded.
“I—well, we, must speak with a citizen of your city. It is of dire importance in order to return the Princess of Mirion to her throne.”
“We do not dabble in petty human affairs boy.” The second elder replied.
“Please, listen to me.” Kale couldn’t give up after coming so far in his journey. “The entire continent of Ravondore depends upon ending General Jedah’s destructive path. Returning the Princess will help ensure his demise is met.”