“Grimandin?” the Woodwarden called out as she guided Maelstrom up the brush-covered hillside. Many large groves of trees spotted the horizon and she scanned them, looking for some sign of the Stone Troll.
Where was he?
“Grimandin? Ye up here?” she called.
To her right, a large form rose up out of the tall, yellow grasses.
Gorin.
“Woodwarden?” he whispered. He stepped cautiously toward her, studying her face. He moved up to her, his eyes nearly level with hers. They moistened slightly as he took her in and he swallowed hard.
“I’m alright, Grimandin. I’m alright.” She could feel the raw emotion inside of her friend, the ultimate concern.
“Thank the Wind ... I-“ he started. “Do you feel ... hmmm, well?” he touched her shoulder.
“Everything is as it was, my friend.” she answered and together, they embraced, her small frame dwarfed by his mass.
“Woodwarden, I will never allow that to happen again.” he promised, his dark eyes downcast.
“Grimandin ... Ye can’t protect me from everything. This ... thing was beyond our control. You were never at fault, know that.”
“Hmmm.” was all that he said.
Soon, Hagan and D’Pharin joined them and the group set off quickly to the north following the Sheandre River. Eventually, they knew the river wound itself into the Elfwhere Forest. They were already several days behind and Gorin was obviously very anxious about it. Nonetheless, he had agreed on this slight detour and would keep his word. His promise to Councilcrane seemed less important after Windenn’s illness and he was visibly more relaxed on this leg of the journey.
The morning wore away and the sun burned overhead as they skirted the banks of the Sheandre. They stayed out of sight for the most part, keeping to the trees and bushes when possible. There were no signs of pursuit from Overbrook nor did they expect there to be. The Inquitis had been destroyed. One thing was certain, however, Mournenhile would now be aware of Hagan’s whereabouts but he would not know his destination. Mournenhile must know that eventually he would return to Harquinn, but by what route? He would certainly send the majority of his minions into the northwest, radiating outward from Overbrook.
Near midday, Windenn caught several pheasants in traps she had set and combined with the roots and herbs they had gathered, a suitable meal was prepared. They moved out of sight of the river and tethered the horses. They would reach the great forest in two days, they hoped and their provisions could be restocked. Windenn was back to her old self again and volunteered to scout the area.
Hagan offered Maelstrom to her and she was soon out of sight, promising to return quickly.
While Gorin ate, he scanned the western horizon through cautious eyes.
“I feel something. Hmmm. Not far to the west. A large group moves this way and Windenn is heading toward it.” he said, his head cocked to one side.
“Can you hear them?” D’Pharin asked.
“Hmmm, not hear. I feel them in the heels of my boots. They are in the stone of the earth. The rock below us passes their presence on to me.” Gorin answered.
“It is so with Stone Trolls. They are in tune with the earth and more specifically, rock.” Hagan explained to his brother.
Scarce minutes later, Windenn rode back into the camp.
“A vast host from Greymander.” she said pulling the horse to a halt.
“What? Greymander?” Gorin asked, staring at her intensely. “Are you certain? I’m sorry, of course you are certain.”
She nodded.
“Not many have had encounters with those from the ancient wood. I am one of the few. Trust me, the legions I have just beheld are of the ancient Elves.”
“This is disturbing. We must hurry. I must speak with them.” Gorin said and immediately trod past her, heading west.
Windenn glanced to D’Pharin and Hagan with a frown and soon they were following the Troll across the field.
“Elves?” D’Pharin asked.
“That’s right.” Windenn answered. “But not just any Elves. Greymander.”
“How are they so different? I’ve heard talk of them but never anything specific.” he responded.
Hagan piped in as he stared at Gorin’s leather-clad back.
“They are very secretive, brother. They never leave the forest. I myself have only seen a small group of them and that was at a great distance. They have huge eyes, I can tell you. Large even by Elven standards and I’ve heard that they do not sleep. Greymander is supposed to be the oldest living forest in all of Kirkaldin, born in the Morning of the World and home to creatures the likes of which we have never seen. You do not travel there unless you are invited and well-no one is ever invited.”
“I was invited.” Windenn stated from behind him. “When I was new to the ways of the forest, I was sent for. I was forbidden to speak of what I beheld there but it was wondrous and - frightening.”
“Hmmm, quiet now.” Gorin murmured over his shoulder.
They crested a hill and before them was a sight to take the breath away. Legions of soldiers marched northward and their brilliant silver helms glistened in the sunlight. Long banners of sky blue and deep green rippled in the gentle wind as they moved. Strangely, they made very little noise, though they moved swiftly across the earth. They sat upon the most regal of horses, proud and strong. They were all very dark of hair and bright of eye. The seemed to be roughly the same height as the average Man, though thinner. Hagan had been correct; their eyes were quite large within their faces, shining a greyish blue when turned in their direction. They could not be seen from here, but Hagan knew that another distinction between Man and Elf was the ears. The tip of the Elven ear ended in a sharp point and curved slightly toward the face. It proved difficult, he imagined, for one to hide their Elven heritage if need be. All in all, the race was purely magical. Their presence seemed to brighten even the darkest hour.
A small group of riders broke from the main column and moved toward them. They seemed to study the group intently, their eyes piercing into them, reading their souls.
D’Pharin could not return their foreign stare. He was suddenly very uncomfortable and felt exposed. Their leader, taller and somewhat broad for an Elf, dismounted and strode up to Gorin, his eyes never leaving the Stone Troll’s face far above him. From this distance, his eyes swam with a silvery, metallic color and the depth of the darkest seas. His thin brows arched as he halted there and bowed slightly before Gorin. In an odd, lilting tone, he spoke in a language that only the Troll understood. It seemed the news was bad, based on his reaction. They conversed briefly, and then Gorin motioned to the rest of his group.
“My apologies, friends.” the Elf said. “I sometimes forget myself in regards to the young languages. I am Ishaelen, commander of the Seventh Branch and son of Tethlyn, the Forest King of Greymander. Would that I could speak at length with each of you, however time will not allow. I will permit Gorin Grimandin to explain my haste. May we meet again under a happier sky. Farewell. Nemande Alder!”
And he was riding away.
No one could speak, their voices taken away by the p
ure beauty of the Elves. Once one met their eyes, they were lost or so it was said. It seemed to be true.
Ishaelen rejoined the long column of soldiers, turned on his horse and waved. Hagan and the others returned the gesture like sleepwalkers, still under the spell.
“We must make our way to Elfwhere with the utmost speed.” Gorin stated anxiously.
The others shook free of the Elven magic and turned to him.
“What’s wrong?” Hagan asked.
The Stone Troll began to walk away to the north.
“Gorin? What is it?” asked Hagan once more.
He turned and met his eyes with a dark frown.
“War has come to Elfwhere and ... the leaves have begun to fall.”
Hagan’s eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open in shock.
“No ... ” he whispered.
That’s not possible.
The leaves within the forest of Elfwhere had never fallen since the beginning of time. Autumn, as Man called it, did not exist in the communities of the Elves. And war? Who would dare attack Elfwhere? This had also never occurred.
They hurriedly gathered themselves and fell in behind the long line of marching soldiers. Many were on foot but kept a gruelling pace, their endurance never faltering. It had been said that the Elves, if needed, could march across the entire realm without halting. If this were true, then they had thus far been marching for at least seventeen days without rest.
Hagan’s group had it relatively easy as they traveled a now well-worn path, trampled under foot by horses and booted feet. Their horses just fell in line and followed the overturned dirt. Gorin’s calculations told him that they had at least another day before gaining Elfwhere.
“Gorin, who is it that attacks the forest?” Hagan asked after they had settled into the march.
“Those that you fought under the Black Sun, Hagan. Those that we had hoped to never see again. Mournenhile’s creation. His vile spawn.”
Hagan looked away across the hilly landscape.
“The Pith?” D’Pharin asked quietly. Still, the nearest Elves turned their heads at his voice.
“Hmmm ... the same.” Gorin answered, his eyes scanning the ground at his feet.
“What are they after?” D’Pharin questioned the Troll. Gorin shrugged his great shoulders.
“Death. Destruction. The end of all that is good. Elfwhere hides nothing of value to Mournenhile.”
“Not true, my friend.”
One of the soldiers had fallen back and joined the conversation. He adjusted the bow on his back and drew closer.
“In recent years, there has been much renewed interaction between our people and those of Elfwhere. Before the coming of Man, we severed ties, as you know, unable to tolerate our differences. How like Men we had become. Deep within the earth they found her. Expertly hidden below the roots. She had promised, all those years ago, to return to us and unite our wayward people. We have waited for so long and many had long since given up hope but not I. As my father taught me, I have held fast to the faith, the belief that our savior would come. Wind bless us, for the Elfmother has returned to us.”
Many of his folk gave a loud cheer as he uttered his last sentence, slapping each other about the back and shoulders.
Gorin wrinkled his forehead.
“Hmmm. Thank you for the news, my friend. It seems the Pith do indeed have a reason to attack.”
The Elf once again joined the ranks, his spirit lifted.
Hagan shook his head in disbelief.
“Something wrong?” Windenn asked from behind him.
“This seems odd ... I mean, the Elfmother?” Hagan said. “That legend is so old and to be honest with you, I’ve always believed it to be akin to a fairy tale. Now suddenly their savior has returned and every Elf in Kirkaldin is running to Elfwhere to defend her. It seems all too convenient.”
“Is he always so cynical, D’Pharin?” Windenn asked.
“Yes.” he answered with a smile.
“I don’t trust anyone or anything. I’ve been spit on too many times to run blindly into something.” Hagan said.
Windenn thought for a moment.
“What about all of this, Hagan?” she asked.
“This is different.” he answered. “This is all because of an oath that I took a dozen years ago. A young fool, that’s what I was. I should have left them all on their own, to deal with their own troubles. Now I’m being chased across country, the Inquitis on my heels and nosey Woodwardens in my ear.”
He paused momentarily and flashed a smile across his shoulder. Windenn only sighed.
“You always do what’s right, brother. Even if you hadn’t promised them, you would’ve stepped up and offered your sword.” D’Pharin said with pride.
Hagan grumbled. “You don’t know the half of it. No one deserves it, to be called ‘hero’. No one I’ve ever met. It’s an impossible thing to live up to. I fought and defended Harquinn. I killed the Pith. Many others did the same thing. Some died doing it. I just happened to be the one to square off with Malhain ... ”
“What is it that happened during the War? Why do you feel this way?” asked Windenn.
Hagan was silent, watching the marching boots hit the ground below him.
“I- ... hopefully you will never know.” he said.
Windenn squeezed his right shoulder.
“What could ‘ave been so terrible? I’m sure you had reason, whatever it was.” she said.
“No ... ” he said and there the conversation stopped.
Their journey continued without rest into nightfall. The Elves needed no torches or lanterns to light their way, relying on their keen eyesight, so the march went on without slowing. Up ahead, Gorin conversed with many of the soldiers, gathering what information he could. It was apparent that he had had many dealings with them in the past and was comfortable in their midst. To D’Pharin, this was very foreign indeed. He could not get over their eyes. They seemed to swallow him in their depths and hold him fast, leaving him dumbfounded and speechless. He tried his best to avoid their stares.
Throughout the night, Windenn and Hagan had also struck up a few conversations with those around them and from what he had heard, D’Pharin took them to be a very decent folk. He had learned that centuries in the past, the Greymander Elves had left Elfwhere and traveled to the far west. The Elves had long been divided in their religious and cultural beliefs. Their use of steel, for instance, was a very important issue. Those of Elfwhere had banned steel and Greymander embraced it, using it for weapons and tools. Within the forests of Elfwhere, wood was used for everything. A strange woodland magic was used to pull and mold the wood into any shape without the use of tools. Thus, the resulting items resembled nothing else in the realm, as if the wood had become liquid for an instant and then frozen in place.
There had never been an actual conflict between the two factions of their people
, only a polite disagreement and finally a decision to divide their numbers for the overall good of the Elves. So it had been, since before Man. Beyond the Sleeping Sea, the High Elves had gone, long before the forest had split. They were a separate creation, they told them. Not of the forest at all. They felt that they were the pure Elves and favored by the Wind. They were said to stare down their noses at all other races, especially Man.
“Wind, I’m tired.” sighed D’Pharin, drooping in his saddle at the rear of the pack. His shoulders sagged and his mouth hung loose on his jawbone. How long had they marched, he thought. Since midday the day before? The Elves had not relented and showed no signs of doing so, their feet plodding along with that same steady rhythm, only assisting the weariness that threatened to pull D’Pharin down.
“They are tireless. We’re lucky we’ve kept up this long.” Windenn said, hair in her face, her own voice weary with exhaustion.
“Yes, my friends. The Elves are blessed by the Wind. They are long of life and light of heart. They seem to know no sorrow-unlike the other races of this world.” Gorin said with pride and in truth, there were many smiles and jests within the ranks of soldiers. Even the threat of death could not destroy the joy within these people.
A tall, sparkling horseman broke from the main column and rode back to them, saluting with a flourish. It was Ishaelen. As he drew closer, he stood out in silhouette against the distant moon.
“My friends, this is where we must part ways, I am afraid. By custom, only an Elf may enter the forest on foot, all others must enter by water. At Sheandre’s edge, you will find many small boats on the bank, awaiting you. Choose one and make your way into Elfwhere. Your horses will be well taken care of. They will be awaiting your arrival within the city of Nael Daren. I am certain that we will meet again. Walk with the Wind friends and farewell.”
Hagan and the others stumbled out of the path and moved slowly in the direction of the river. They were somewhat puzzled with this change of events; however, Gorin and Windenn acknowledged the custom.
“Well, can we sleep now?” D’Pharin complained with a wide yawn.
“Let’s wait until we’re on the water, brother. Then, you can get your precious rest.” Hagan answered with a laugh.
“I’m not used to this, you know. Marching and running and hiding and running some more ... ” D’Pharin moaned.
“It’s better than the ranch, isn’t it?” asked Hagan.
“Oh yes. Anything is better than being treated like a child and ordered around-“
“Alright, brother. Relax. I didn’t mean to get you in a fit. It won’t be long now.”
As Ishaelen had promised, many small and well-constructed boats were tied upon the bank and without much hesitation, they made their choice. Fashioned, it seemed, from a single piece of wood, these boats bore no seams. Smooth and very lightweight, they carried their craft to the water with ease and then climbed inside. Hagan and Gorin took to the oars and gently guided them out into the black current. D’Pharin gathered his bedroll, rolled it up tight under his head and was instantly asleep.
“Woodwarden, you should get some rest as well.” Gorin said. She agreed without argument.
Soon, the horizon began to glow orange with the coming of the morning sun and all about them the river began to awaken. At first, a quiet chirping along the banks as the birds and frogs sprang to life. Then, at a distance, they began to see the Sheandre otters diving for their morning catch, a light cracking noise echoing out as they broke open the mussels upon their sleek bellies. Along a sandbar to the east, a family of Whiteheron stood in the shallows, spearing tiny fish with practiced precision. They reminded Hagan of the Inquitis momentarily, their stark white feathers seeming to glow in the distance. The largest called out, a loud and very shrill sound splitting the hushed morning. Windenn sat up from the floor of the boat, glanced around at Hagan and Gorin, then dropped back down to her bedding.
“The Pith would destroy all of this. Hmmm ... ” Gorin stated, staring blankly at the water’s edge.
“How can Mournenhile expect to take Elfwhere? No one can conquer the Elves within their own wood, everyone knows that.” Hagan replied.
“Hmmm. His power has grown while the rest of Kirkaldin slept. We rested, thinking him long since gone or so weak as to never be a threat again. But, something has caused the trees to shed their leaves. Something killed the woman under Klaemen’s Arch. It is black sorcery indeed. Mournenhile would not attack without the possibility of victory. He is hiding something. Something powerful, I fear. Something frightening.”
Hagan nodded.
War has reached the Elves and we’re heading to Harquinn.” he said with a hint of sarcasm.
“We will not defy the council. Once you have spoken with them, my task is complete but until that time ... ”
“I should not have brought D’Pharin along. This has all become too dangerous. Too big a risk. But, I could not leave him there either. Not with him.”
“Your people differ a great deal from mine. Family is the most important possession to the Trolls. Each generation must understand the next. Everything must grow and become individual. A child must be taught and nurtured. They must become their own people with their own thoughts and goals and even their own beliefs. One’s family is always connected to them through blood. This fact must be cherished. When that relationship is severed in any way, it must be quickly repaired.”
“I believe it is the parent’s responsibility to keep the relationship alive. My father disowned me when I left for the War. I did nothing to justify that. I helped save his life and all those around him-“ Hagan added.
“Are you listening to your words, Hagan? Remember those words when you question your worth as a hero. When someone addresses you as Lord, you deserve it. You have earned the title.”
“If only my father had believed that. Perhaps things could’ve turned out differently. Now, he has become someone I knew. To not know one’s father is a terrible thing. That is why I question my bringing D’Pharin along. Now, his relationship is strained with Rhuvin.” Hagan said softly.
“Your father has become bitter, Hagan. In you, he sees that which he could never be and he is jealous-not proud. He knows, as well as you, that D’Pharin will be more than he is also. Ah, parents. Despite my obvious shortcomings, I know that my mother and father are proud of what I have become. Hmmm, I must agree with your decision in bringing your brother. In these few days, he has become more of a man. In your presence, he grows swiftly into a true gentleman.”
Hagan was touched by the Troll’s thoughts.
“Thank you, Gorin. You are truly a friend. I ... I am sorry for the way I acted back home. I-“
“Not to worry. I will not hold it against you.” Gorin smiled.
They sat together in silence for a time, within their own thoughts. It had been some time since Hagan had felt a sense of belonging. He looked to his sleeping brother and smiled. He had done the right thing.
Windenn awoke abruptly, the boat shaking slightly with her rousing. She gasped and dazedly reached for her blade. The others started at the sudden motion, D’Pharin bursting suddenly awake.
“Woodwarden?” Gorin asked.
Her eyes shot nervously around her, seemingly confused and frightened. She searched both sides of the river and then her companions.
/>
“What was that?” she asked, biting her lip. “Something is out there ... watching us.” Her lower lip trembled and beads of sweat ran down the side of her face as she pointed into the shoreline where the trees grew close.
They followed her hand and intensely searched the area with their eyes. They saw nothing. The leaves lightly rustled in the wind and the water lapped quietly at the outstretched roots. There appeared to be no threat.
“There’s nothing there, Windenn. You were only dreaming, that’s all.” Hagan said, gently removing the sword from her white-knuckled grip.
She shook her head, eyes locked on the grove across the river.
“No. You’re wrong. Can’t you feel it? Wait ... ” she paused and her finger shot out. “There! Within those trees ... see it?”
They once again followed the line of her finger. Still nothing. She looked quickly from face to face, aggravated with their disbelief.
“Dammit. They are there. I’ve never seen their like before. Ghosts or shades. They are vaguely manlike but with no definite form. They seem to float about like smoke. You truly cannot see them, then? There. Within the trees. They know that I see them. They are running away now ... ”
“If the Woodwarden claims to see them, then they are there. She would not lie.” Gorin stated plainly. “Wind help me, I see nothing.”
Windenn dropped back down to the bottom of the boat and roughly drew her blanket around her. In disgust, she eventually drifted back to sleep. The others soon began to discuss the strange event. What had she seen if anything? They knew of no such creatures that inhabited the region. They decided to keep their guard up and could do little else. How to defend against something one cannot see? Soon they would enter Elfwhere. They would be safe there and among friends. Perhaps the Elves could explain Windenn’s peculiar vision.
“No, no, I can’t. No. I won’t.”
Two days out of Lauden and the voice within Trune’s pounding head would not be silent. The soles of his rotting bare feet slapped wetly on the newly turned soil as he drove to the north and west, his boots long since discarded. He no longer noticed the swarms of gnats and flies that had gathered around his lower limbs like wolves to a fresh kill.
“I know, I know. Yes, I have to eat but I can’t-What?” his words jumbled together and he shook his head to knock the voice loose but to no avail. “Of course I’m starvin’ but- Alright! If ye shut up, I’ll do it!”
As he crossed the field and topped the rise, he saw a small farmhouse below him with many outbuildings. Several men worked on their knees in the garden there and a small herd of cattle gathered around the water trough. Three children ran and played out back with a shaggy white dog. Trune guessed its name to be Ivory by the children’s taunts. He stopped there and crouched looking out to the west. The sun would be setting soon and he would eat again.
The voice had told him so.
Hagan let out a wide yawn as he raised the oar for another stroke. They would be approaching Elfwhere soon; he could see the shadow of the forest on the horizon.
“Gorin, I’m exhausted. I was fine just a moment ago but now I want nothing more than to join D’Pharin and Windenn.” he said.
The Stone Troll looked at him over his shoulder and smiled.
“Hmmm. I must admit, my eyes grow heavy as well. Very peculiar.” He rubbed a palm across his skull. “You rest and I will guide us the last few leagues.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Nonsense. Now, grab your blanket and get some sleep. I’ll wake you before we cross into the wood.”
“Thank you.” Hagan said and in scant moments, he snored along with the others.
Gorin fought the urge to sleep for quiet a while but uncontrollably his great head dropped to his chest and he slumped over, nearly capsizing their craft. It righted itself and moved back into the current, carrying its passengers toward the heart of the Elven kingdom. As the leagues wore away, their dreams soothed them. Dreams of peace and beauty. Of love and laughter. Of family and friends. And with joy in their hearts they soon came to the Arch of Elfwhere.
All about them the trees grew to an enormous size and twisted in amongst themselves, creating a fortress of living wood. Branches centuries old woven together in a complex and gentle pattern, creating a never-ending ceiling above. All along the shoreline, the gigantic roots spread out forming hundreds of smaller arches, nearly all large enough for their craft to pass through. None of these could rival the true Arch. Towering far, far above them; the huge trunks had bent and shaped themselves to create the immense structure. Like great and gnarled fingers, the limbs seemed to grasp one another and meld the many into one. Only the topmost branches bore leaves, creating a dark canopy overhead and casting the Arch into perpetual shadow.
They were not alone, those in the craft, for all along the Arch, windows had long ago been created and within these windows the sentries watched. Elven guards were hidden everywhere and with the magic of the Arch, they identified those in the boat as good and true of heart. Friend and not foe to the forest. They were allowed passage into the ancient forest and so they glided silently under the enormous trees and past the watchful eyes of their hosts.
As the river gently pulled the boat along, Hagan dreamed of the Wind. They walked side by side in a garden of unearthly flowers, covering the ground like a thousand tiny multi-colored beetles and as they passed, the power of the Wind made them dance. Just beyond the garden, the ground dropped away as if they walked at the top of the world, higher than any mortal had ever come.
“Why am I here?” Hagan asked, his eyes blinded by the beauty of the Wind. He tried to look into that face, but it proved impossible with his mortal eyes.
“You are here because I have made it so. Is any other reason necessary?”
“Wind ... I have so many questions ... ” Hagan began with much hesitation. “Who am I supposed to be? I feel so ... lost. Am I Lord Hagan or simply-Hagan? Does any of it really matter?”
“Can you not be both?”
“I-“
“Child, you are many things as are all of the children of Kirkaldin. Some of the choices have been left up to you and some were preordained.”
Hagan’s cheeks were wet with tears. His heart bled. He felt the urge to fall to his knees and cry for help.
“It is so very hard ..., ” he sobbed.
“There is more upon your shoulders than many, Hagan. This is true, but it would not be so were you not worthy and up to the challenge. You have your place in this world just as the miller or the pig farmer. Yours is simply a higher calling.”
“What if I choose not to hear it? Can any of this be avoided?”
“I am sorry, son.”
They moved together to a large stone fountain and staring into the rippling waters, a vision played itself out in its reflection. Images of what the future held for he and his companions. Great wars and death. Love and loss. It was too much to take in and Hagan turned his eyes away. Did he really want to know how it would all end? Would it change the course of his life? Would he choose differently when the time came?
&nbs
p; “Wind?”
“Yes, child?”
All about was suddenly filled with a swirling darkness and his vision seemed to fail. He was falling. The roar of an ocean deafened him and he tried to cover his head. Bursts of light struck his eyes and his head ached.
He heard the voice of the Wind once more.
“Yes, child?”
“I’m not so sure ... that I believe in you.”
His eyes opened to a sky of the purest and darkest blue and the tops of the tallest trees were visible at the very edge of his vision. The day was waning and night would soon be visiting Elfwhere. He breathed deeply the smell of earth and wood, the fragrance of the most rare of blooms. Something was digging into his left shoulder blade. D’Pharin’s boot. He struggled to sit and in doing so, rocked the boat, jarring the others awake.
“Are we there? In Elfwhere?” his brother groggily mumbled as he wiped his eyes.
“Hmmm ... ”
The boat tipped far to one side as Gorin got to his feet. The Elven craft had run aground as they slept and had come to rest on this gently sloping bank. A small clearing extended away from them and just as the ground rose into the hills, the huge trees took over. It seemed the sunlight barely touched the ground beneath the trees, the leaves and branches being so uncommonly thick. There was an eerie stillness all about them. Not silence. Something altogether different. A calming and peaceful magic that settled onto everything as a light mist might blanket the early morning grass.
“Indeed. This is Elfwhere. Trees of this nature grow nowhere else-except perhaps Greymander and unless we were blown far off course, I do not think we landed there. Take it all in, my friends. You may never be invited again to the home of the Elves.”
Windenn seemed to be in better spirits now and after gathering her gear, she hopped out of the boat and out onto the springy grass.
“This place is so beautiful. Not at all like Greymander Forest but ... not unlike it either. The trees are different and it doesn’t feel as ancient here, but there is the same sense of grace within the branches and leaves. It is as if an artist planted and tended each sapling as it grew. It is ... wondrous.” she sighed, turning in a complete circle to take it all in. She made no remarks about her vision downriver and so the others followed suit and held their tongues.
Together, they pulled the small boat far up and out of the water, securing it the best they could within a clump of flowery bushes. They moved to the shelter of a particularly crooked tree and ate.
“Does anyone know how to find the city?” asked Hagan between bites of cheese.
“It seems we have been dropped here asleep intentionally. We have no way to guess where we are. Hmmm ... A good plan on the Elves part.” Gorin stated as he stood.
Upon satisfying their hunger, they slung their packs on their backs and headed into the woods with no direction in mind. They traveled quickly across the spongy, moss-covered earth, winding their way through the immense trees snakelike. The sun approached the horizon, sending long, deep shadows across their path. Hagan imagined how dark this place would become once night had finally fallen.
They slid their way down a steep ravine, clambering over and around the curious blue stones that grew out of the earth like crooked dragon’s teeth. They regrouped at the bottom, adjusting disheveled clothes and wiping the dirt from their trousers. Windenn heard the unmistakable sound of water from somewhere above.
“Hear that? There must be a creek somewhere over the next rise.” she said, already climbing.
“Night’s coming and that’s as good a place to camp as any, eh? We can’t travel in this place at night unless one of you can see in the dark.” D’Pharin commented.
Everyone agreed and they slowly began climbing, using the low brush to help pull them along. The sound had grown very loud.
“That’s no creek.” Hagan said.
Gorin nodded. “A waterfall. Hmmm.”
As they ascended the hill, a dark fissure loomed before them. A thin passage naturally cut into the hill from which the booming sound of the falls came. They cautiously made their way into the crevice, Hagan in the lead, their shoulders and packs scraping the slick stone wall as they passed. A dozen steps and the spray from the falls reached them, making it very difficult to see. Hagan pressed on, guided by his outstretched hands upon either wall, blindly moving toward the end of the passage. It came suddenly, the pale mist parting, revealing a crystalline pool before and below them. It splashed and churned as the enormous avalanche of water collided with its surface. They emerged very close to the great column of water and as they stepped out onto the slippery rocks, they could see the dark shapes of many robed figures seated at the far end. Hagan waited for the others to join him and was shocked as his brother parted the mist.
His clothing had been drained of color.
His shirt, trousers and cloak were now of the brightest white and as he turned his eyes on himself, Hagan realized the same about his own attire. The stain was gone from his chest and all of his clothing was dry. Windenn and Gorin had similarly been purified, shining like moonlight as they exited the mist with surprised expressions.
So it was that the party reached Faenenmist Falls, the breath of Elfwhere, one of the most cherished of Elven landmarks.
They carefully picked their way around the pool, gingerly crossing the slippery rocks toward the group at the far end. As they drew closer, the many figures stood, male and female, their long brown robes dragging the ground and their hoods drawn back. They were striking creatures. The wisdom of the ages was upon them and they held themselves proudly. Each lifted their hand and smiled in greeting as the party reached them.
“Welcome to Elfwhere, friends of the Wind.” the foremost Elven woman said in a beautiful sylvan accent. “I am Ethylianea. You have been cleansed by the breath of the forest and now may accompany us into its heart.” Her large, round eyes passed to Gorin. “It has been many years since a child of Rathnok has walked beneath these trees and we welcome you with much joyfulness.”
“It is an honor, fair one. I am Gorin Grimandin. This is Windenn, Woodwarden and keeper of the hidden arts. Hagan and D’Pharin Marindel of Lauden. We are blessed by your hospitality.” the Stone Troll formally announced.
Ethylianea raised an eyebrow and nodded her head slightly. Her long dark hair gently played about her narrow shoulders.
“Marindel, you say? Lord Hagan Marindel of the Black Sun? Defender of Harquinn and he who drove our enemies back into the West?”
Hagan nodded.
“The same.”
The group of Elves shuffled amongst themselves and whispered hushed tones in their lilting tongue. This was news indeed!
“Then it is we who are honored. Your tale is legendary. It is our custom that every Elven child must learn of it at an early age. These are indeed unusual times, the Elfmother has returned and Lord Hagan Marindel walks within our kingdom.”
An Elf at the back of their group stepped forward, clutching an immense book in his arms. In some way, he seemed older and somewhat frailer than the others did, his eyes in a permanent squint from poring over his papers for so long. His hair had been drawn back into a long ponytail that fell over his left shoulder.
“Perhaps, if you see fit, you may allow our scholars some time with you to fill in some of the missing elements. Many of them study the Elfmother, trying to solve her mysteries, but a few may be spared to take your statements I am sure.” he stammered, his grasp of the language obviously not as strong as Ethylianea. “We of Elfwhere s
earch for the truth and wish only to expand our knowledge of everything around us. This is an important day. I have long wished to converse with you, my Lord. Your heroism is unmatched in recent history. To take a first-hand account of the battle would be glorious. Ah ... I overstep my bounds, Lord and with the coming darkness, I am sure your services will be required elsewhere.”
Hagan ground his teeth. Inside, he was battling away demons. The harsh realities of war waged against Kirkaldin’s perception of him. He knew that the Elves meant no harm or disrespect.
“Your words honor me, fair one. It is true, I am afraid, that time will not allow my friends and I to dwell within your home for long. Matters in Harquinn require our immediate attention. I must speak with Councilcrane as soon as possible. We have come for Vasparian Grael. I must convince him to join me. Without his sword, I fear ... he is as a brother to me.” Hagan answered.
Ethylianea bowed deeply and took a long wooden staff from one of the others. She once again drew her hood up and about her face, the lovely patterns of embroidery now very evident to the group.
“Come with us, my friends. We feel your need and an exception shall be made. It has been ages since one not born of the wood has made the woodwalk, however with the coming of autumn, darkness presses in and we must bend our set of laws. You will walk with us.”
Gorin’s eyes grew wide. He looked in astonishment at those in his party and only Windenn understood. The brothers bore a puzzled expression.
They followed the Elves deep into a dark and tangled grove. Near the center, a tree as straight as a fence post towered far above all others. The sun blinked out below the hills and for a moment all was blackness. The Elves halted momentarily, allowing their eyes to adjust to the night and then gathered around the tree. Ethylianea reached for Hagan’s hand and without hesitation, he took it. An Elf took the hand of each member of his party and circled the tree.
“Do not release the hand that guides you. To do so, you risk your own mortal soul. Please do not fear, friends. Let the Elfmother bless us. You are safe. Let us walk.”
And Ethyliane stepped into the tree. Her body simply passed into the bark and wood without halting, only her hand still visible pulling Hagan along. Hagan closed his eyes tight and stepped forward and the most bizarre of sensations struck him. They were inside the very essence of the forest. Another plane of existence. His eyes opened and all about was of a golden-brown hue, as if they floated through a honey-colored sky. He could feel the wisdom and strength of Elfwhere. The very tangible life that ebbed throughout. He could feel every animal. The birds and the great stags. The streams sparkling with energy. Ethylianea turned and smiled at him, her eyes alive with love for her heritage. She was beautiful and a small flutter of emotion stirred within his chest. There was something about her that he found very attractive. Could it be the magic of the forest?
Almost instantaneously, the walk was at an end. One moment, Hagan cried with joy for the vivacity of Elfwhere, the next he stood once again under the night sky, the great canopy of leaves overhead blotting out the moon. His heart ached at the loss and he wished only to return. The others soon joined them, their eyes wet with tears, their mouths stretched in smiles. One would never forget the woodwalk as long as they lived and one could never fully describe the experience.
As they looked about them and adjusted once again to the forest surroundings, they noticed many tiny orange lights in the near distance. Hagan gave a questioning look and Ethylianea spoke.
“We have come to Nael Daren, capitol city of the kingdom of Elfwhere, some thirty leagues into the forest.” she said, her eyes shining brightly in the coming dark. They had traveled an incredible distance in mere moments. “Here you will find what you seek but please, wait until the sun rises. I am sure our King will wish to speak to you come the morn. Rooms and comfortable beds will be provided for you and hot baths if you so wish.”
“I so wish ... ” D’Pharin moaned. It had been many days and he felt like a muckhog on a hot summer’s day.
The city of Nael Daren was an amazing sight, especially in the dim light of late evening. The fiery glow from the many windows highlighted the amazing curves and shapes of the wooden city. Trees of immense girth had been hollowed it seemed and within, expansive homes and countless other structures had been created. The bark of the great trees had been removed or perhaps smoothed in some way, giving every visible surface a polished sheen of golden brown and the wavy grain of the trees ran through it all. D’Pharin turned his eyes skyward and as far as he could see the golden circles of windows lined the heights of the trees. Far above, suspended walkways had been constructed and many of the woodland folk traveled to and fro, resembling small and busy little insects to his eyes. They began to encounter more and more Elves upon the ground as well who studied them curiously as they passed. These were not the average visitors to Nael Daren. Three humans and a Stone Troll? A small Stone Troll, but a Troll nonetheless.
It was all very alien in appearance, almost dreamlike to the group and they walked slowly into the heart of the city in awe. They discovered that the lights inside were not torches or lanterns but orbs of illumination held together with the Elves ancient magic. They gave light but not heat. Fire, they were told, was used very sparingly within the kingdoms of these fair people and with the development of their distinctive sorcery, was often not needed. Many of the structures were large enough to be castles within the human cities and some were much bigger, appearing to hold thousands of occupants. One felt very insignificant within a forest of such scale.
Through the vast interwoven limbs, they began to see glimpses of a structure that dwarfed even the largest of those within their view. Thousands of glowing lights covered its surface and many Elves moved along its walkways like ants.
“What is that place?” Windenn asked, her voice very small and trembling.
“That is Darendae, Mother’s heart. It is the home of our king, Lyndremaene.” Ethylianae answered, proudly. “That is our destination. Tonight you will rest beneath the boughs of our grandest achievement. Nurtured in the dawn of Elvenkind, it is the oldest living tree in our kingdom. Great magic flows through its heart. You will never sleep as peacefully as you will tonight, my friends. Come.”
As they neared the massive front gates, intricately carved with ancient woodland symbols, they saw for the first time, several Elves dressed for war. They bore weapons of wood and wore layers of what appeared to be light leather armor. Upon their heads were dark green helms, ghostly white plumes sprouting from the crowns. Beautiful silver etchings covered the back of the helms, near the neck and these patterns were continued in their remaining attire. They appeared very similar to the Elves of Greymander, only their lack of steel and color patterns were different. They stood, unmoving, at either side of the entryway, their eyes unflinching until the party approached. As one, their eyes shot to Hagan and they quickly stepped forward to bar his way, long curving swords in their hands. A quiet word from Ethylianae and they were once again back at their posts.
Before they entered the great tree, the sounds of numerous people reached them. There appeared to be a bustling marketplace within and many were conducting business on the lower floors. The smell of cooking wafted down from up above, spicy and sweet. They all gazed up in hunger at the rows of windows several floors up.
“Not to worry, friends. We must pass near to the kitchens on our way to your rooms.” their guide informed them with a broad grin. She placed a gentle hand on Hagan’s shoulder and led him into the Market Hall of Darendae.
The sheer size of the place was intimidating. The ceiling arched far over them, spanned at regular intervals with natural supports magically drawn from the body of the tree itself. They could not help but feel dwarfed by it all. Elves bustled about all around them, male and female, purchasing goods and socializing in their odd tongue. Everything was bathed in the golden light cast by the sunglobes that hung everywhere. Many of the patrons stopped mid-sentence as the party wal
ked in, most following Gorin with their gaze as he strode across the smooth and lacquered floor. The entire group stood out starkly, their newly bleached clothing a beacon, alerting everyone of their presence. Several groups of women dressed in gossamer peach robes held small white serpents wrapped around their wrists, speaking to them as one would a small child. The shapes of their bodies were very evident under their nearly transparent clothing and Hagan and Gorin turned their gaze elsewhere. It required a hard nudge to avert D’Pharin’s stare. The women followed the group with their eyes, yellow glowing orbs in their pale slender faces.
“Who are they?” D’Pharin asked of their guide.
“The Addrefae. The Sisters of the Ashen Serpent. When a chosen Elven girl reaches adolescence, they take part in a holy ceremony held within Roothome, the great caverns that lie below much of our forest. They sit in a wide circle; each blindfolded and await the serpent. It is released at the center and it chooses one of the young women to carry its power. The girl of its choice is bitten and infused with the mysterious sorcery only known to the Addrefae. Only a handful of girls are chosen each year to join the sisterhood. They are veiled in secrecy and do not speak of their hidden knowledge and all know not to ask. It has been so for as long as I can remember. I, as you can see, was not chosen at the ceremony all those years ago.”
D’Pharin’s eyes wandered back to the scantily-clad women, but as he discovered his looks were not going unnoticed, he spun quickly around to face Ethylianae.
“Trust me, young friend, that is something you do not want to get involved in.” she said, nodding in their direction.
Ethylianae did not halt long enough for the attention to become uncomfortable and instead pulled them along rather quickly to the grandest staircase any of them had ever seen. Each stair was easily wide enough for a full garrison of cavalry to ascend and the burnished handrail was as thick as a large man’s waist, stained and polished to a deep bronze color. All along the gorgeous woodwork, vines and leaves had been carved, standing out in relief against the smooth floor and ceiling. The party marveled at the unbelievable control of the artisans, the details so tiny and precise.
“There’s nothing like this in Lauden.” D’Pharin commented as they reached the first step.
The others remained speechless as they began their ascent. They remained close to the outer wall, a strange feeling of vertigo gripping them, the size of the place bewildering their senses. There was, of course, no chance of falling, but it still seemed out of their control. They rose far above the first floor, taking perhaps seventy steps, before reaching the next level. Here there were many inner chambers, evidently places of business for the Elves. Formal offices and meeting halls. A large section of the second floor seemed to be an inn and at the thought the party began to feel their weariness. From around a distant corner, an armored soldier turned and headed in their direction. He wore the uniform of a commander, his helm in one hand and a small orange blossom in the other. It was Ishaelen of Greymander.
“Friends! How fare you? Did I not tell you we would meet again? Is this not the most glorious of all castles in Kirkaldin?” he said.
Hagan clasped his hand and bowed slightly.
“It is good to see you again, Ishaelen. Would that you had told us of the manner of our entry into Elfwhere, things may have been easier.” he said with a grin.
“It is as it is, Lord Hagan. All things have a purpose and now that you have reached Nael Daren, I am sure you understand the reasons behind some of the Elven ways.”
“Perhaps. How soon will your men travel to the front?” Hagan asked.
“Before the sun rises, I am afraid. We have had very little rest but time will not wait. We must provide aid where we can. With our might, nothing can stand for long.”
“I do not doubt that to be true. Luck go with you. Walk with the Wind.”
Ishaelen smiled and bowed. “Elfmother’s blessing on you all as well. We will meet again Lord Hagan Marindel and under much brighter skies.”
He nodded to the others and quickly strode down the staircase and out of sight. Though his army faced death in the days to come, he still seemed in good spirits.
Ethylianae moved on again, leading them down several long hallways and past many doors, some open and some closed. Countless turns later they came to the foot of a staircase in all aspects the twin of the one they had left behind.
“One more.” Ethylianae said with a smile. She pulled the hem of her robe up slightly and began to climb.
“Wind save us.” Hagan moaned jokingly as he followed. He had grown tired indeed, but hunger was his chief concern at the moment. He was uncertain of the Elven diet, but in his state anything would do.
At the top, they rested a moment, their host allowing them ample time to take in the view. This was obviously the most important of the floors. Fewer people moved about and the furnishings were priceless. Great flowing draperies hung along the walls and large porcelain vases, obviously gifts from some faraway land, were spaced out evenly down the arched corridors. Rare purple bouquets sprang from them, their heady aroma filling the air and calming all that came near.
“This floor is reserved for very special guests, such as yourselves. Our King’s chambers occupy this floor, as do our council’s quarters and libraries. Very few Men have set foot here. None while I have been alive, but then again, none of them have ever been Lord Hagan Marindel. By now, our King is aware of your presence. I will speak with him as soon as you are all comfortable. Now, to the bathing rooms?”
They agreed loudly together and headed after Ethylianae. After Windenn was shown to the women’s room, the others were sent down the hall. As the doors closed behind them, they removed their clothing and placed it neatly folded on a low bench against a wall. Gorin withdrew somewhat, stepping away from the others and as he removed his leather tunic, pulling it over his head, D’Pharin could not help but gasp. From his left shoulder, running down to the middle of his broad back, were thin lines of frozen silver embedded in the stone flesh. The remains of the dark rain that fell in Tree Towers. All along his upper body, small pits stood out as shadows in the dim room like the face of the full moon. Hagan nudged his brother’s shoulder and gave him an intense look. He had been staring. D’Pharin acknowledged his brothers unspoken advice and averted his gaze.
In scant moments, Hagan, D’Pharin and Gorin relaxed in steamy wooden tubs, eyes closed and breathing easy. The smell of lavender and rose floated about, caressing their senses and easing their souls.
After a short time, with only the sound of calm breathing, Gorin spoke.
“After the fall of Tree Towers, the remnants of that great fallen city came here to Elfwhere. They started anew, taken in as if they had always belonged with the children of Lyndremaene. It is said that they accepted new names and identities. Forgot their past. It is a travesty, the loss of that beautiful place and those that dwelled there speak not of its treasures. Our world will never again see its like.” he said with a faraway look in his deep eyes.
“I wish I had seen it in its glory, Gorin.” D’Pharin said, his wet hair hanging in his eyes.
“You would never have forgotten, young Marindel. The people as well, they were so pure and fair. I miss them dearly. I lost many a friend on that day. Many a friend ... ” He let his voice fade into silence and together they drifted in their own thoughts for a moment.
“D’Pharin?” Hagan said. “You fought well in Overbrook. Very well. I was concerned at first, but you handled yourself expertly.”
“Thanks, brother.”
“Who taught you? I know it wasn’t father.”
D’Pharin laughed out loud.
“No, it wasn’t. I taught myself, Hagan. I had to. Everywhere I turned, I heard them, the things they would say. I knew you weren’t any of those things. You were a hero-are a hero. Eventually, I grew tired of hearing it and picked up a blade. I fought Y’radda Blunc for it. He said if I beat him, I could have the sword. So, I beat him. Si
nce then, if they spoke ill of you, I shut them up. Let’s just say, no one has spoken ill in years.”
“I’m sorry, D’Pharin. I shouldn’t have disappeared like that. You needed me then and I thought I needed no one. If I hadn’t gone to the hills-“ Hagan began.
“That’s in the past, brother. You’re here now and that’s what’s important.”
Hagan thought about what D’Pharin had said and smiled. It was time to make up for the past. To get the memories out of his head, he changed the subject.
“Why don’t we just forget all of this council nonsense and stay here? I could live like this.” Hagan sighed, dumping water over his head with a great curved ladle.
“Hmmm. It is a tempting proposition, my friend. I haven’t met with this manner of hospitality in quite some time. I was beginning to believe that I would never again be clean.” Gorin answered, his huge chin at water level.
“I can’t move ... ” D’Pharin groaned, his head hidden by the high sides of the tub. “I ache all over. My feet are sore and my back is sore and-I know, I’m complaining ... ”
“It’s understandable, brother, but I noticed that you didn’t mention it until Windenn was out of earshot.”
Gorin laughed out loud and then caught himself, covering his mouth.
“My apologies, D’Pharin. I am tired. I meant no disrespect.” he said.
“Now, I can’t let the lady see her hero struggling to keep up. Can I?” D’Pharin laughed, poking a little fun at himself.
They all burst out in laughter, D’Pharin tossing a ladle-full of water in their direction.
“In a few more days, you won’t even notice the pain. It doesn’t take long. You’ll see. You’ll be keeping up without a problem.” Hagan said.
“That is true.” Gorin added with a huge grin.
“That, or we can ask Windenn to carry you.” Hagan said, dropping his head below the water.
A Dream of Storms, In the Shadow of the Black Sun: Book One Page 8