Splayed, weathered fingers turned into a fist against the cool, god-forged glass. The anger of two thousand years of resentment that existed between the two nations burned in his heart. In his fifty-one years he had learned to control his flaring temper. As a younger elf learning the violent history of their kind had filled him with torment, rage, and a feeling of betrayal.
For years the elves had been nothing but myth to the humans. But yet the humans traveled from Nudomri to Vheria, falsely claiming that they needed shelter. They caused families to turn on one another. The elves were meant to keep balance in the world, and the humans had taken that. Had it not been for two elves named Daylor and Berhalis, those same humans would have stayed on Vheria.
When he was younger, Shen had had an uncontrollable rage, knowing that the elves could have been far greater had they been united beneath their gods. His powers had lashed out in a torrent from crystals that filtered the world’s magical energy.
Until they had shown themselves to him and given him direction in life. Every day since the first he longed for their presence, wondering how many years it had been since they last showed themselves to him. He craved the gods, their knowledge, wisdom, and guidance, just as an addict would crave the anubal berries: something more that the humans brought with them in their wake. The gods first fed him images of the original elves through his dreams. The elves had been formed from water and earth mixed with either the light of the sun or the light of the moon. Placed within their bodies were several small, jagged, and veined crystals that provided them a way to touch the mana of the world and produce what many called magic.
After that, over the course of several years, he was shown the necromancer all despised. In this sight, he came to understand that all could be corrupted, and all could be forgiven.
“High Elder, I hadn’t realized you were awake so soon.”
Shen looked over his shoulder at the young disciple, Cirene Aldon, who stood in the doorway of his room. Her slim features and long, earth-toned hair reminded him of a lover he’d had years ago. However, this maiden was his disciple and not she who left for Ghela. Cirene’s eyes, blue and speckled with gold, the onset of her potential, brought him back from the shores where he had watched his love leave.
He hummed before giving her a curt nod. “Some aching in my heart awakened me.” He looked out the window once more before moving to sit behind the table. The gods had crafted the high backed chair and dark wooden table to last thousands of years. Floral designs and images of gods and elves were etched into them. They had once belonged to one of the six original elves, before the gods’ ascension, before this tower had been built atop the temple, even before Elona and the demon god Thaos had set the elves to war with one another.
Cirene brought in a perfectly balanced tray of food. The soft white light of her mark spiraled in different directions across the length of her arm. Her hands were delicate yet deadly. From a young age, the elves were taught offense and defense in both the physical and supernatural. Some were destined to be guardians scattered across the island. Above all, the protection of the island lay in great leadership. Even though Shen was told several times that the separated elves would not attack without all the words of the great prophecy fulfilled, he would still need a predecessor when the attacks began. He knew long before Cirene’s birth, when she was only a quickening in her mother’s womb, that she would have great potential. The gods had shown him this.
“Are you well, sir?” Cirene whispered, setting the tray in front of him. “Should I send for a healer?”
Shen glanced at the food set before him. Raising his hand to her, red spread across her cheeks. She was concerned for his health. The older he became, the more often he had fallen ill. Elves, despite what folklore would suggest, only lived an average of forty years longer than humans. The gods had shortened the elves’ lives when Thaos had killed Elona’s husband. It was troubling that, at fifty-one, his body had already begun to fail him. He often wondered if speaking with the divine caused this. Perhaps a shortened life was the mortals’ reward for helping to reach through realms otherwise unseen.
Still, he understood the gods’ reasons for working through him. Just as he understood why they began taking magic from many elves.
“I’ve no need for them, but thank you, Cirene,” he wearily replied, his hand running across the carvings on the arm of his chair. “I’ve no need for food, and neither will you.” He paused, his pure golden eyes taking her in as he contemplated his next words. “There are things that I need to tell you today. Things that none who live on Vheria know. And to the best of my knowledge, most of Arlania does not either. You must understand that for anyone to know this would put both of us into a dangerous position. I want you to swear these things will not be spoken beyond us.”
Her eyes grew curious and all at once alarmed when they widened as large as the moon. He’d felt the same thing once, before his long, sun-touched hair had turned grey with age. Now he was finally given the pleasure of seeing it on another’s face.
Cirene’s hands came together, knuckles turning pale, obvious against her golden skin.
“I do not talk to many as it is, sir,” she said. “These things you wish to speak to me about, are they as serious as you sound?”
Shen smiled up at her, pushing at the arms of his chair to help him rise to his feet. He walked around the table to stand in front of the younger elf. Her eyes held the same innocence he saw in many of the children that came and grew. All of them lost their innocence well before the age Cirene was now, each in different ways. She would be one not given a husband. When her time came to stand as an Elder of Vheria, she could choose her own husband if her heart allowed her to do so. Unless she felt more of a passion towards her duties.
Just as Shen had.
“If these words were to reach the ears of those on Ghela or even Nudomri, it could alter many things.” Cirene’s long eyebrows lowered in thought. Shen placed a hand against her face then cupped her chin. The energy that was ever present from their crystals met in that touch, welcoming similarities, pulsing, warming, and finally fading. The worry lines faded from her face, and when she looked at him, there was clarity. He wanted to hear her promise. “Swear to me, Cirene.”
Cirene nodded. “I swear that nothing said here will be spoken of. May my words carry to the gods, I swear.” At her last utterance, the High Elder smiled.
His hand fell from her face, and he gestured to a small altar below one of the windows and beside his bed. Gailenia flower incense rested on top. Surrounding this were hand-carved, stone idols of each elder god and goddess alike.
Kothes, his features stern, with wild hair and ears that sloped back and pointed upwards. Ghedril and Vhedril’s naked bodies were lined with flowing hair, their features hidden behind masks of the sun and moon. Thena’s curls cascaded from a loose kept bun. Her features were near the same as her elder brother, but feminine and more human, her limbs shorter, her ears rounded. Those same human features played in Edan and Llethra, save for the ears of elves. Edan’s hair looked like wisps of fire, Shen had even carved his contagious smile. And Llethra was ever surrounded by Aalon and Dega, twin dragons that wound their way around her arms, continuously whispering reports and prayers to her.
One elder god was missing. He was missing from everywhere on Vheria, except the ruins that marred the beaches, his statues cracked and nearly dismantled. Thaos. The Murderer. The Demon God. The Betrayer.
Cirene approached the altar, eyes studying the contents. It was taboo to touch another elves personal altar. Today would be an exception because they were an exception.
Shen prodded gently, “The gods have spoken to you, have they not?” Cirene turned to him, mouth agape. “Perhaps starting from a very young age, in dreams?”
“I-I thought that I may have dreamt of them.” When she looked back at the idols, several emotions surfaced across her face while her hand held tight to her chest. “Since they left us, nobody has had a proper
depiction of the elder gods. Only Thaos and Elona are known. And these carvings—”
“Their faces are what you’ve seen since a child,” Shen interjected. “I’ve kept you from seeing my idols all these years so they wouldn’t interfere with your dreams.” Cirene continued to stare at the faces. They were the makers and leaders of the mortals. “It always starts in dreams, testing the mind of whom they desire to use as a medium, testing their fortitude. Then, one day, you are shown. You are an oracle.”
Thin eyebrows knit together, and Cirene took a deep breath. “That cannot be true. To each island the gods gifted an oracle. There are ways to divine the truth, to speak with the dead, or divine other certain things, but never to speak directly to the gods. I was taught that those ways are nothing compared to an oracle. I don’t think that honor should be mine.” Her lips parted, eyes darting between him and the idols, but Shen knew she saw enough. “Besides, when the separation occurred, the Sun Elves that left Vheria took those seated on the Council of Vheria, taking any claim to the oracle with their passing.”
Shen nodded, his face hardening. “You know your history well. With war approaching faster every day, rules have been broken, the laws of the gods rewritten, or completely ignored. But, not to everyone’s knowledge.” Slowly he lowered himself to kneel, hands placed upon the altar. He looked up at her, enough room left for her to do the same. “Pray with me, young one. Today we shall speak with them. I feel it in my heart.”
NARA
The forest was alive. All elves knew this, but few actually felt it.
Nara stooped low to gaze at a set of tracks, and she felt the vibrations of the trees. The trees were a guide for her. Wherever the strongest sensations came from was the mistaken path. The trees deceived people, leading them astray to protect the creatures hidden within. Not all elves felt these things. Some only felt it subconsciously and were easily led away. But those elves who could sense it were destined for either the mark of Kothes or to become hunters.
She knew the deer was close. When she pressed her hand against a nearby tree, its leaves shivered. This would be the way. Why did it come so close to the sea when nearby edible foliage surrounded fresh pools of water?
She shook her head, freeing her face of her light brown hair. She pulled an arrow from her quiver, setting the nock onto the bowstring. It wasn’t time; she still had yet to see the deer, but the less movement she made and the closer she came, the better.
Hearing a twig snap, she stepped towards the shore. Her bare feet touched the coolness of sand and stones. Blocking out the rush of waves moving across the land, she gritted her teeth, knowing the Elders would not be happy with her for missing her morning lesson. However, the temple was always in need of food. Visitors from all over Vheria often arrived to take shelter or seek guidance. With Summer Set bringing in a multitude of guests, she hoped her early morning escapade would be overlooked if it yielded results.
First, she saw the shadow of the large stag stretch across the sands. Pulling the drawstring back as the deer crept forward, she narrowed her eyes.
Hail suddenly pummeled her, red welts forming on sun-touched skin.
The deer, as startled as she, ran back into the forest. A flash of white and many pointed antlers sent Nara stumbling backwards with trembling breaths. As she fell to the ground, her hold on the drawstring released, and her arrow sailed into the forest missing the stag.
She silently cursed herself, but at the same time, she was grateful to the gods for the hail. The repercussions for killing the stag would have been serious. Not from the Elders, but from the gods. Kothes favored the white stag, a line of the first deer created by his mother, Gaia, as a gift to the mighty earthen god.
She stood, wiping sand from her arms, legs, skirt, and breast-cloth, her lean muscles still tight and ready to run even without sign of danger. As fast as the hail had started, it had ended. She took this as a sign to leave. Empty handed, it was enough knowing that she was granted a blessing through such an event.
Before she could step back into the forest, more rustling came from the woods. Twigs snapped, freezing her where she stood. Worry swept through her mind and body, forcing her to draw her last arrow and set it in place.
The movement stopped, but the hand on her bow did not relax. There was only one known predator on the island. The ebon wolf was sentry of Vheria, kept at bay except when it came to hunters. It would cover territory the dryads did not, making sure hunters did nothing against the laws of the gods like killing the white deer. It only preyed on hunters and other animals. She had only seen it in books where it was depicted as large, coming face to face with the average elf male, while displaying glowing blue eyes, large paws, a long snout, and no visible ears. It went straight for the throat, they said, and would continue to fight long after being wounded, otherworldly powers healing and sustaining it through the ages.
Her breath trembled as she tried to hold the bow steady. It had been known to make mistakes, and she would be prepared if it thought she had broken ancient laws. Though she knew the likelihood of her survival was small, she would try.
The bushes moved once more, and she aimed straight ahead. Instead of the great ebon wolf, a boot emerged. Long fingers parted the brush, clearing the way for an elf to step out into the open. Slowly he raised his hands, her lost arrow held loosely in one of them.
Her breath left her. His face was perfectly outlined by shoulder length, white-blond hair, and striking eyes of amethyst searched her as much as she searched him. However, he wore the clothing of an outsider. On Vheria they were given furs and cloth, taught to fashion them into simple pieces. This elf wore boots and clothing she couldn’t remember names of.
This stranger must not have traveled far, just yet. He was clean and wide-eyed, as though he’d awoken not long ago. This, along with the area in which she found him, pulled at her curiosity. Most foreigners went through the guardians posted at the eastern river; from there they were sent straight to the temple.
Nara continued to gawk at this elf until he began to lower his hands. Watching him more steadily, she drew back the bowstring, ready to loose her arrow on him. One day she would leave, her own future plans in mind. Until that moment, however, she would protect Vheria with all she had.
“Nara,” said a gruff voice at her side. It was a voice she recognized. Looking out of the corner of her eye, not daring to take her full attention away from this elf, she saw the familiar stone-stretched skin of an orc who frequented Vheria. This orc brought in goods from various parts of the world. But more importantly to her he brought knowledge. He was slightly taller than her, though she was short in comparison to most other elves.
“Taruk,” she said, hoping she conveyed the caution she felt. Her amber eyes had yet to leave the elf before her who held a wavering smile. “Do you have a weapon on hand?” she grunted in Orcish, a harsh language Taruk had taught to her over the years. It strained her throat when she spoke it, but Taruk said she spoke it well regardless. Nara prayed this elf did not understand.
Taruk’s square, rough fingers were always gentle despite the gritty feeling of earth on the back of them. Grabbing her shoulder, he spoke in the common tongue. His voice was gritty while close, set eyes of brown stone bore down on her. “He’s no harm,” he coaxed. “I bring him here.”
Nara blinked, relaxing minutely. But she wondered why Taruk was here with him. She shook her head not understanding why the orc was risking his stature on Vheria.
“There are procedures for those wishing to travel through Vheria,” Nara chided both of them in the common tongue. The elf made to hand her the arrow, but she tensed. When he raised his hands again, letting the arrow fall to his feet, she guessed he had given up. He sighed, his features taut with impatience. She didn’t care. She treated him as she knew the guardians of Vheria would.
“I don’t intend to harm anyone,” the elf grumbled. “I need to speak with your Elders.”
“I don’t believe you,” Nara retorted. “
You would have traveled farther north if your intentions were good. We would not have met like this. Taruk,” she looked at the orc who had already removed his hand from her shoulder, “why in the name of Kothes—”
Deft hands grabbed her, one across her hold on the drawstring, the other wrapped tightly around her waist and up to her shoulder. Screaming, she attempted to pull away, but he was stronger. He bent her hand back, sending her last arrow into the forest.
Taruk stepped forward, his face harder than before. “Castien, you said you nah harm her.” His jaw tightened, coal colored braids swaying when he shook his head. “That you nah harm nothing.” Nara pushed back into Castien in an attempt to free herself.
“Get off of me!” Nara yelled, reaching her free hand back to grab the elf’s face. However, Castien shoved her away before she could touch him. Stumbling into Taruk’s arms, she made to hit the elf with her bow. Surprisingly, Taruk held her back, once gentle hands turning to rock around her upper arms.
“I don’t intend on harming anyone,” Castien snapped. Anger sparked like lightning in his eyes when he looked between the two of them. “But I will not have my life threatened without proper questioning by the proper people. I have my reasons for not dealing with the guardians.” He ran strong hands through his hair. “I will only speak with the Elders.”
Nara stared in disbelief before her anger left, giving her room to think as Taruk held her. With the way he had grabbed her, in the instance of letting her guard down, she knew that he could have killed her and left to the temple without anyone knowing. Even if he lied to show a peaceful front, she wondered why Taruk aided him. In all the years she’d known the kind orc, he had always chosen peace while correctly judging individuals. Nara knew his temperament and philosophies well.
“Fine,” she snarled, pushing away from Taruk. Inclining her bow towards Castien, she continued, “But you stay in front of me, and you behave as I see fit. I will direct the way.” She scanned his person once again. Castien’s cloak was large with a silver dragon brooch holding it together at his neck. “Give me your cloak,” she demanded, propping her bow against her side. “Any weapons you have could be concealed beneath it.”
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