On the Shores of Irradan (The Everring Tree, #1)

by Ronald Long

  A soft laugh came from within the mask.

  "You have nothing to offer me."

  The masked man turned and put up his hood up once more before bowing to the deity.

  "You are unworthy."

  Those were the last three words Sethin ever heard.

  Chapter 31:

  An Island Map

  Life in the city of Darrion was buzzing for the next few days. Many who had never seen elves before now held frequent conversations with them in the marketplace. Friendly sparring competitions between the guards of Darrion and the army of Enoth were being held in a few small open air courtyards.

  The shops of Darrion had never been so full of customers and in such need of new stock.

  Outside the city walls, a city of elven tents was constructed and free for any to walk through. Some of the elves had even set up shops of their own, selling fine cloth and jewelry the likes of which Darrion had never seen.

  And every day a herald came through the streets, reminding the people of an important speech the emperor would give. It was scheduled for tomorrow morning. The first day of the week.

  In the middle of all the hustle and bustle was the small band that was neither from Darrion nor Enoth. They watched the events unfold as outsiders.

  Felicia had not given up on her search for the white-haired escapee. She doggedly marched through the town, questioning those who may have seen him or been acquainted with him. Those who did not want to speak to her at first were encouraged to share whatever information they had by the presence of her intimidating first mate.

  She hadn't had any luck, however.

  Tory, Gorplin, and the two halflings were obediently keeping watch over the amphitheater. Though, as Tory frequently reminded everyone who would listen, if the thief pirate had really stuffed himself into a secret corner of one of those rooms, he would've starved to death by now.

  "I just can't see why she can't let it go!" Tory would sometimes shout whenever Felicia was no longer in ear shot.

  But fear of her retaliation against him kept him going to his daily watches from noon until dinner. Even if he wasn't seeing a pirate, Tory would frequently come back and report on what was happening around the amphitheater.

  Banners were being set up. The whole place was getting a good dust over. There was a general buzz of excitement around the speech that was slated to come tomorrow morning.

  Jurrin and Jurgon mostly just commented on the food that passed by their noses as they watched over the stage.

  Ealrin and Holve had not given up their quest in the library to find some old scroll or tome that mentioned their tree.

  And, though he would never say it out loud, Ealrin was keeping a sharp eye on the elf Blume kept following around and questioning his motives.

  "Doesn't say much, does he?" Ealrin said as the young elf scoured another bookcase, an indifferent expression on his face.

  "Neither does Jurgon," replied Holve as he turned the page of the large book he was looking through. "And you don't observe his every move like a hawk."

  He glanced sideways at Holve. He had known his mentor and friend to be trusting of some of the shadiest characters he'd ever encountered. Perhaps his judgment was off?

  "Hey!" Ealrin exclaimed as he looked back for the young elf. “Where did they go?"

  A librarian gently put his hand on the table and shushed him for talking so loudly.

  "Yes, I'll remind him we're in a library" Holve said, without taking his eyes off his pages.

  Ealrin was fuming.

  "You're not even listening! Blume and Dilinor have run off!" Ealrin said in a harsh whisper. He was just about to go scouring through the bookshelves to ensure Blume's safety when Holve grabbed his hand and jerked him over.

  "Look at this," he said, pointing down to a map of a small island Ealrin was unfamiliar with.

  A very faded page revealed a sketch of a wooded land mass with a solitary mountain.

  "These are old elven runes," Holve said, pointing to a paragraph at the bottom of the page as well as the various labels of the island.

  "I haven't seen markings like these in a long time,” he said as he rubbed his chin.

  Then he looked up at his surroundings, as if coming up for air from a short dive under water.

  "I wonder if they've taught that young elf old runes," he asked as he scanned the library.

  Ealrin was exasperated.

  "So we can go looking for them now?" he asked incredulously.

  "Why not?" Holve said, getting up and stretching out his back and legs. "We've been far too long in this library."

  Ealrin began walking the aisles at a quick pace with Holve following behind him leisurely.

  The pair weren't on the first, second, or third floor.

  "Where have they gone?" Ealrin asked, real concern beginning to find its way into his voice.

  "You're running around like you're afraid for her safety," Holve said as he picked up and then replaced a book from a shelf labeled 'Darrion Histories.'

  "I thought perhaps you'd be more concerned for her heart."

  The statement caught Ealrin off guard and made him stop short. Her heart?

  "What do you mean?" he asked.

  Holve shook his head.

  "What kind of girl follows around a boy in a library for days on end, constantly jabbering at him and not caring if he has three words to say back to her?” he asked Ealrin, as if lecturing him on the fundamental nature of a rock. “Someone with a heart issue, typically."

  The word sunk in to Ealrin for a moment before he quickened his pace and redoubled his efforts to find Blume.

  After several long searches, they finally found them in the third basement level of the library. Blume was sitting in a chair watching Dilinor peel away the pages of an ancient scroll, carefully reading each line he came across.

  Ealrin was livid.

  "Blume! Where were you? And I thought I told you not to come down this far!"

  Instead of lashing out at him, like he fully expected her to do, she simply sat in her chair defiantly not looking up at him.

  "Holve," she said, addressing the older man standing next to Ealrin rather than Ealrin himself. "Please tell anyone who might be interested that I am in no need of a father figure."

  Ealrin looked at Holve, who, to his credit, was doing his best not to smile.

  "Shouldn't you be studying magic?" Ealrin asked, enraged.

  Instead of Blume, Dilinor was the one who looked up at Ealrin.

  "Magic?" he asked with a quizzical look on his face. "Humans cannot perform magic."

  He said this statement as matter-of-fact, like the sky was blue or the grass was green. Ealrin knew this to be the furthest thing from the truth. In fact, most of the Speakers he had ever known were humans, though he was sure some dwarves and elves also took advantage of the skill.

  A halfling they knew certainly did.

  "Blume can," he said. He suddenly found himself wanting to defend the very same girl he had been so upset with. "She's one of the most gifted Speakers I've ever met."

  The pool of Speakers he had met was relatively small, but still, he knew to give credit where credit was due. Blume was beyond gifted.

  "Is this true?" Dilinor said turning his attention to Blume, eager curiosity on his face now. "Show me."

  This was not what Ealrin had anticipated.

  At first, Blume looked defiantly from Ealrin to Holve and then back to Dilinor.

  And then she went red in the face.

  "I... I can't," she managed. No emotion read on her face, but Ealrin had the distinct feeling she was holding something back.

  A silent moment hung in the air.

  "She means she doesn't have her Rimstone with her," Ealrin said, breaking the silence and reaching behind him to grab a hold of his mentor's sleeve. "Holve didn't you want to ask Dilinor something?"

  Holve, who up until this point has been merely observing the conversation, asked Dilinor if he would accompany him up
stairs and attempt to read some ancient elven runes.

  The young elf agreed, but only after giving Blume a good stare. He gathered up the scrolls around him and followed Holve up the stairs.

  Ealrin and Blume remained behind. She still sat on her chair and he realized there wasn't another soul down in the third basement other than the two of them. He spent several moments attempting to figure out what to say next. He couldn't explain it.

  Ealrin wanted to protect Blume, to keep her safe. He wanted her to be within his sight, knowing the hard year she had experienced on Ruyn. He wanted her to grow and flourish as a gifted Speaker.

  But, most of all, he didn't want her heart getting broken. Before he could put any of this into words, she spoke.

  "You really think I'm the best Speaker you've ever met?" she asked, still without looking at him. Her hands appeared to be the object of her study at the moment.

  Ealrin felt the smile crease on his face.

  "You know that's what I think."

  For the first time since he had come down the stairs, she looked up. Her eyes were moist, but not yet red. Ealrin didn't think he ever really appreciated the color of her eyes: brilliantly and dazzlingly blue.

  "Do you think I'll be able to Speak again, Ealrin?" she asked him.

  Ealrin sat down in the chair opposite of her and took one of her hands in both of his. He realized this was the first time he had even touched her in weeks. Her hands were cold and small in his. He rubbed his own back and forth to warm hers up.

  "I don't know why or how you lost the ability," he said. "But I know you can get it back."

  He didn't know this for sure of course, but he refused to believe that the little girl, no the young woman, who had the ability to perform so many great acts of magic, would be devoid of the gift for long.

  She smiled at him for a moment before wiping one of her eyes with the back of her hand.

  "I'm going to start practicing again," she said, a note of determination creeping into her shaky voice. "I'll show Dilinor humans can do magic."

  Dilinor.

  Ealrin wasn't sure, but something about the young elf didn't sit well with him. The expression on his face must have changed because Blume creased her brow and looked at him.

  "What is it?” she asked.

  “Nothing," he lied before standing up and leading her up the stairs.

  "Let's see if Dilinor can read whatever Holve has found."

  Hand-in-hand, they walked up the steps.

  ***

  It turned out that Dilinor could read some, but not all of the old elven language written down and around the map Holve had found. As Dilinor translated, Holve made notes on a separate piece of paper in his soft, gentle writing. When he finished, Dilinor sat back with a puzzled expression.

  "Thank you, Dilinor," Holve said with the look of satisfaction on his face. "Your schooling really has paid off. You should be proud of yourself and your teachers.

  When he rolled up his parchment, he looked down at Dilinor and saw what Ealrin had been curious about. The young elf seemed confused, nearly upset.

  "What is it?” Holve ask as he saw Dilinor's expression.

  With a finger, the elf traced the outline of the island.

  "It's wrong," he said simply, looking down on the map.

  Holve looked from the paper rolled up in his hand to the map and then back to Dilinor.

  "Your translations?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at the writing.

  Dilinor shook his head.

  "The map," he said. "The map is incorrect. It says here it's a map of Cracer Island. It's the only body of land within the great sea. My father has personally been to this island. This map makes it sound like it’s a place brimming with life. My father went and he said there was nothing there but ash and flames."

  Ealrin watched Holve consider this.

  "Ash? Is there a volcano on the island?" he asked.

  "I know of no volcano, only what my father told me."

  Dilinor stood and gathered his own papers.

  "The map is wrong," he repeated. “But I must return."

  Without another word or backward glance, Dilinor left the library.

  A rather ancient looking librarian chased after him, inquiring about the stack of papers he carried, but to no avail. The great doors of the library swung open and closed with a tone of finality. Ealrin looked up at Holve who was examining the map again alongside the copy found in the ancient book they had brought to Irradan from Ruyn.

  Then he looked at Blume, who was examining the door.

  Holve positioned himself into his chair and sat back down at the desk, studying the maps further.

  "I wonder..." he said as he scratched his chin.

  "I thought we were looking for a tree," Ealrin pointed out. "This map looks ancient. Likely if there was any life on that island and a volcano did erupt, it's all wiped out by now."

  Holve didn't respond, but only continued to stare down his nose at the piece of parchment.

  "I'm going to go find Jurgon," Blume said abruptly.

  Ealrin caught himself before he made a remark about warning her to be back by a certain time or to be safe. Instead he just called out after her a simple, "See you later."

  She turned and gave Ealrin something he had not had from her in a very long time.

  A smile.

  As the door closed behind her, Ealrin sat himself back down at the desk and pulled the first book he could reach over towards him.

  "That wasn't so hard, was it?” Holve asked as he began unrolling the notes he had made from Dilinor's translation.

  Ealrin turned the book in his hands and opened it to the first page. Before he dove into the effects of Rimstone growing near trees and the magical properties it might get them, he had one final thought.

  Actually, it was quite difficult.

  Chapter 32:

  Quiet in the Ranks

  "What a waste of time," Bernard yawned as he and the rest of his company marched back into Lone Peak.

  Morning was dawning on the first day of the week as the guard returned from their campaign without a single hide to speak for their efforts.

  They had searched the countryside for weeks in search of signs of the fox beasts without seeing a single monster.

  Captain Kilgoree had kept making nightly speeches about how they had scared them off simply by showing the creatures the strength of the Lone Peak guard. Bernard was highly upset that there were no chances for him to have stories of his great bravery.

  "We definitely heard some, though," Lincoln said, glancing over his small piece of paper and the poem he had been trying to write for a week. He had lost his previous attempt in one of their quick marches to follow the sound of a Wrent howl.

  "But you can't fight a sound!" Bernard complained.

  Lincoln shrugged and put away his parchment.

  “Strange, though,” he said wistfully. “There were tons of fresh tracks. We should have seen at least a few of the Wrents while we were out.”

  The large man shuddered.

  “I'm glad we didn't,” he finished. “They're awfully scary things.”

  “I wouldn't have been afraid!” Bernard boasted as he swiped the air with his hand, pretending to cut a monster down in an act of bravery and cunning.

  "Did you see all of those tents outside the city walls?" Lincoln said, commenting on the sights they had just passed through to come to the gates. "It looks like elves have come to Lone Peak. I wonder if they are the wild kind or the southern ones? My mom used to tell me stories."

  "The wild elves are dangerous!" Bernard said a little too loudly.

  "Quiet in the ranks!" Kilgoree shouted.

  As usual, Bernard and Lincoln were the only two men in the hundred-person company talking. They had just entered under the large gates of Lone Peak and stepped onto the cobblestone road.

  The stern stare their commander gave them was enough reason to quiet down.

  Marching on a while down the street,
Bernard could see the city was brimming with elves. Carts and wagons were passing all around the column of soldiers. Where the normally open city road was, elves and men of Darrion lined the thoroughfare. Shops had lines coming in and patrons leaving with heavy loads. The elves appeared to be very satisfied customers. Before he could get a good look at any one elf in particular, the company was ordered to halt.

  Up ahead, Bernard thought he could almost see what was going on. If only he were a head taller.

  "What's happening?" Bernard whispered through the side of his mouth to his much taller friend.

  "Looks like an elf is talking to Captain Kilgoree," Lincoln replied.

  “What kind of elf?” Bernard whispered back, doing his best to look in-between the ranks of soldiers that stood between him and his captain.

  Before Lincoln had time to answer, Kilgoree's voice resonated over them.

  “We march for the amphitheater,” he said in his commanding tone. “There's an important meeting taking place between the elves of Enoth and the men of Darrion. Forward, march!”

  They picked up and all began to head in the direction of the largest gathering place on Lone Peak: the amphitheater.

  Bernard had been inside the place several times as many meetings of Darrion had required him to. He had never, however, been a part of a public meeting while also on duty. Most of the time Kilgoree just told them the news after the meeting, having a greater need for them to continue their patrols.

  He thought it strange that the captain didn't dismiss them first and was about to point this out to Lincoln when his friend interrupted his thoughts.

  “You know,” said Lincoln as they marched along. “I've always wanted to read one of my poems in the amphitheater. Maybe the captain will release us after the meeting is over and I can give it a try.”

  Bernard was ready with a biting reply and a raised fist to punch his friend in the shoulder, before jumping back to his position.

  Their captain hadn't started marching with the company and was now level with the two miscreant talkers.

  “Quiet!” Kilgoree shouted right into Bernard's ear.