by Candy Rae
Well, thought Aranel, I’ve just rescued her and she’s looking at me as if I’m a little pebble on a beach! She could say thank you for saving her life or something!
“Who is your father?” she asked after a moments thought.
“I have been told he is a Lord Arovan,” answered Kirsty, “and I’m sure he would want you to take me to him.”
Aranel knew who she was claiming to be now. What was surprising was the fact that she was declaring the same paternal parentage as her! She didn’t think this stranger was her lost older sister. She appeared much younger and had a foreign-looking face, almost alien.
“Show me your ring,” Aranel demanded in her turn.
Almost involuntarily, Kirsty raised her hand and held it out to Aranel.
Aranel stared at it. It was exactly the same as her own, except that the round jewel in its setting was red and not blue. This must be the one that her father had instructed her to get first, the second of the trio of blue, red and green, only she hadn’t needed to persuade the Tathar. It had come on its own. But who was she? Why was she claiming her own father as hers too? She decided however that now wasn’t the right time to embark into an extended question and answer session.
“Our father isn’t here right now,” she told Kirsty, “but you must come with me.”
“You know where he is? You will take me to him?”
“Yes,” Aranel said, “but we really have to get out of here. I don’t think it’s safe to remain for too long. I know a way, a tunnel that should lead us to safety.”
“The hooded men? The Morityaro?”
“How do you know about them?” asked Aranel, pulling at Kirsty.
“They, they were on the other side. At Innerhadden. At the gate. They attacked us. I thought Bob was right behind me, he was, then he wasn’t, and I don’t know what’s happened to them. Bob told me to go, so I did, he said my father would be waiting for me, but he isn’t. You are. What’s happening? I don’t understand.” She was crying.
Aranel wasn’t at all sure what it all meant either, but she knew that Kirsty arriving in Alfheimr like this was the first step to understanding.
“Come,” she instructed, half dragging Kirsty away from the thinning mist. “And stop asking so many questions. There’s no time.”
“Where to?’ asked Kirsty.
“We have to get back to where Urieline is waiting. Through these trees. Come. Hurry! We shouldn’t be seen and with the recent activity in the T’Quel, the Nosse on duty will be on full alert. Luckily you came out behind the T’Quel proper. I didn’t know it could do that. If we go through these trees and hug the cliff edge we should reach the tunnel undetected and manage to reach Urieline by morning. I don’t know why, but I’ve got a feeling that the less elves who know about all this the better.” Aranel didn’t understand why she thought they should keep their existence here behind the T’Quel mists a secret, even from the Nosse, but trusted her instinct in thinking it wise.
Aranel was thankful the Nosse required its members to study the detailed map of the T’Quel area when they joined. She had learnt of a tunnel that was narrow, wet and winding and was never used. Only very thin, slight warriors could get through it, which ruled out the majority of the warrior elves.
But,” began Kirsty.
“Keep your questions until later,” repeated Aranel in a voice that brooked no argument.
Kirsty allowed herself to be hurried into the trees hugging the valley side. She knew the tone Aranel was using. Her mother sounded just the same when she expected her to do something, no questions asked.
She allowed herself one more. “Who or what is Urieline?
“Urieline is a unicorn.”
Kirsty blinked. So unicorns were real. Bob had been right; creatures of legend did exist, at least here in Alfheimr. As she stumbled on through the darkening evening towards the trees, she wondered what other creatures inhabited the world in which she now found herself.
* * * * *
Aranel found the entrance to the tunnel after a great deal of poking in and around the thick bushes that grew beside the trees. Kirsty, who was still suffering from the triple shock of thinking first that she was dying, second that she was being saved and then finding out that she had been rescued by a sister who was an elf, stood and watched as Aranel hunted for the tunnel entrance. The elf girl kept pushing her way into the undergrowth then retreating in disappointment when she didn’t find the entrance.
At last Aranel beckoned her over. “Found it at last,” she told Kirsty, peering inside the tunnel. Kirsty also tried to look but Aranel was taller and she only glimpsed a pitch-black, empty sliver in the rock.
“Is it wide enough?” asked Kirsty anxiously, jumping up and down to grab a peek over Aranel’s shoulder.
“I think so,” Aranel answered, examining Kirsty. “You’re slightly fatter that I am so you might have to breathe in a bit here and there. The tunnel is reputed to be quite narrow in places.”
Kirsty bristled. She was proud of her slim form with its curves in just the right places.
“In my world,” she retorted, “I am considered to be exactly the right shape. You, however, might be described as abnormally thin, anorexic even.”
It was Aranel’s turn to bristle. “I’m just right too,” she snapped, “shorter than some but very attractive.”
The two regarded each other like two young turkey cocks then abruptly burst into simultaneous laughter. They may have just found out that they were long-lost half-sisters but feelings of friendship, that was something else entirely.
It was during that burst of laughter that the first tendrils of friendship and companionship were born, two girls with very different upbringings and sense of ideals finding something in common. In that moment they started to become closer, not through the existence of kinship or blood ties, but through that wonderful feeling of humour shared.
Kirsty instantly felt a lot better and more able to cope with what the future might have in store.
Aranel also felt a lot better. She was no longer alone in her search to find the Tathar.
I may be the warrior, the one who must lead this quest but Kirsty, she will be there beside me, backing me up, I just know it.
“So, we go through here,” observed Kirsty bracing herself, sucking in her breath and trying to make herself as thin as possible.
Their journey through the tunnel was moderately difficult and extremely uncomfortable especially for Kirsty who was not used to such strenuous shenanigans such as forcing her body up and down rock paths and through very tight spaces.
The tunnel was also very long and incredibly dark. There wasn’t enough room for either of them to carry a light and they needed both hands for scrambling anyway. Their eyes got used to the dark pretty quickly but they still (especially Kirsty whose trainers kept slipping on the slimy tunnel floor) stumbled a lot. Both girls picked up any number of scrapes and bruises.
Eventually, just as she thought she couldn’t take much more, Kirsty caught a faint whiff of fresh air.
“Not long to go now,” whispered Aranel. “You all right?” Light was beginning to penetrate the dark and she had noticed Kirsty’s white face.
“I’ll manage,” Kirsty replied through gritted teeth and, with dogged determination, she forced herself to keep placing one foot in front of the other.
When they neared the exit Aranel stopped. Kirsty just about managed not to bump into her.
“Wait here,” Aranel hissed. “I’ll go and make sure that it is safe. I’m not the only elf who knows about this tunnel. Many others have read the maps.”
She crept forward, towards the shaft of light. Kirsty didn’t like being left behind in the dark all that much but waited with forced impatience for Aranel’s return. She wasn’t stupid. She knew virtually nothing about Alfheimr. Aranel was right. It was safer for her to go on ahead without Kirsty blundering around in her wake.
It seemed an age and a half before Aranel returned, beckoning
Kirsty forward to join her.
Kirsty almost fell over herself in her eagerness to get out of the dark and into the light.
* * * * *
By the time they reached the copse of dawillow trees Kirsty was exhausted. Aranel had had to half-carry her over the last half-cian.
She dragged her to the place where she and the black unicorn had slept before they had made their way to the cleft in the cliff and sighed with relief when Urieline’s shape emerged from the trees.
“Who’s that?” the inquisitive unicorn asked when she realised that Aranel was not alone.
“Name of Kirsty. She came through the T’Quel and she claims Lord Arovan for a father!”
Urieline blinked.
“She doesn’t look exactly like you and she’s dressed strangely.”
“She’s not even entirely an elf,” said Aranel, helping Kirsty to the ground. “Her ears are a peculiar shape for one.”
“Her body shape is odd too,” agreed Urieline, “more rounded in places than yours.”
“I can understand you, you know. I’m wearing a torc,” yawned Kirsty, half-cross, half-amused by Urieline’s sally. “You don’t look much like any unicorn I’ve read about either!”
“One for her side,” said Aranel mildly.
“Are we keeping count?”
“We could start. Might be fun,” suggested Aranel.
Urieline gave them both a disgusted look, then, her curiosity getting the better of her, couldn’t resist asking what had happened.
“Something to eat first,” said Aranel. “I’m starving.”
“I’ve got some sandwiches,” offered Kirsty, rummaging in her rucksack. She suddenly felt starving herself. She definitely needed to get her energy levels back up. Yes, she was tired, but she wanted to listen to what Aranel was going to tell Urieline.
“Sandwiches?” asked Aranel. “What are those?”
Kirsty’s eyebrows rose. Why, everyone knew what a sandwich was; then she realised, everyone at home knew what a sandwich was, here no, they didn’t.
“It’s a sort of travelling meal,” she explained, offering Aranel one of the packets. “Two slices of bread with a filling.”
Aranel took it, but tentatively. “What’s it wrapped in” she asked suspiciously and sniffing at it as if the contents of the package were going to jump out and bite her. “Is that edible? Doesn’t look it.” She poked at the wrapping.
“It is called Clingfilm, keeps it fresh, and no, the Clingfilm isn’t edible. You usually dispose of it in the nearest litter-bin.”
Aranel gave her a look but refrained from asking what a litter-bin was.
She carefully unwrapped the sandwich then bit into it. Two chews later and her face broke into a surprised smile.
“That’s good,” she said. “What is it?”
“Egg and tomato with salad cream,” said Kirsty. “One of my favourites.”
“What have you got?”
“Coronation chicken. It’s a sort of curried chicken in a mayonnaise sauce with sultanas. Care to try a bite?”
“Yes please,” said Aranel, taking the half-eaten offering and taking a bite of her own. “I don’t like that one so much,” she said, handing it back to Kirsty who took it with a shy smile that Aranel returned.
“So who is going to start?” asked Urieline, who had no interest in sandwiches and the niceties of the fillings. She wasn’t hungry. The immediate area was now almost entirely denuded of the little blue blossoms – which was probably the reason for her disinterest. She looked at Kirsty. “As you are the stranger here,” she said, “it should be you.”
Kirsty was feeling much more awake now. She took out a bottle of water and had a long drink.
“It’s a long story,” she warned handing over her opened bottle for Aranel to take a drink.
“We have time,” answered Aranel. “We will be travelling by night so we have all day to talk, listen and still get enough sleep, two days actually. Urieline, is there any way you can call in a mount for Kirsty here? We have a long way to go and we cannot both ride you.”
“She is coming with us?”
“I think she’ll have to. She is part of this ‘adventure’ too,” Aranel answered.
Urieline snorted. “Adventure?”
“I could call it a suicidal mission if that will make you feel better?”
Urieline ignored the sally. Kirsty bit back a smile.
“I will put a call out,” said Urieline.
“Thank you,” said Kirsty and Aranel in unison, catching each other’s eyes in shared amusement.
* * * * *
“So, I came through the mist,” said Kirsty, coming to the end of her story. “I thought I was going to die and then your hands appeared. The rest you know.”
“You have the book?” asked Aranel.
Kirsty nodded. “It’s in my rucksack. Do you want me to get it out now?”
“Let me tell you my story first,” said Aranel.
* * * * *
Kirsty listened to Aranel’s story in silence and only interrupted on two occasions. The first was when Aranel came to the bit when it became abundantly clear that Lord Arovan was her father too. At first, she had been suspicious of Aranel’s claim.
“So we are sisters,” she commented. “I wondered when I saw the ring on your finger then saw your reaction when I showed you mine.”
“Half-sisters,” corrected Aranel.
“Half-sisters then,” smiled Kirsty, adding with a crooked grin, “but half is better than none. I always wanted a sister.”
The second was when Aranel got to the bit about the attack on her father’s castle at Tanquelameir.
“The same people as Bob said took my mother and it was probably these Morityaro who were at Innerhadden, at the gate. I wonder who their employer is. Do you have any ideas?”
Aranel told her about the glove she had found at the lodge and her suspicions about it being of island-make.
“It could be,” mused Kirsty, “but if you were one of these Morityaro, and Bob said they were professionals, would you be careless enough, during one of your nefarious jobs, to accidentally drop an item that could be linked to your employer?”
“She has a point,” commented Urieline.
“It’s the only clue we have, so far,” protested Aranel.
“We should keep an open mind on it for now,” suggested Kirsty. “If something else turns up, which also links our enemy to an object from these islands, then it is likely to be a clue but until then …”
“Until then it is just a glove,” Urieline finished for her. “Finish your story Aranel.”
* * * * *
Once Aranel had finished her side of the story, Kirsty sat and thought about it for quite a time while Aranel went to gather some nut-berries (they had decided to keep the remainder of Kirsty’s sandwiches for later although they had eaten the packets of crisps and half of the chocolate). When Aranel returned, she asked to see their father’s messages.
Aranel nodded, taking them out of her tunic pocket and unfurling them.
“Will you be able to read them do you think? They’re written in Elfish.”
“Only one way to find out,” answered Kirsty with a smile. “I’m wearing the torc. Let’s see if I can read them. If not, then you can read them to me.”
“Here they are,” said Aranel, handing them over. “I’ve read the shorter one a few times, the one I found behind the panel in the lodge. The one from Nosta I read only the once, while I was waiting for you behind the T’Quel. Every time I tried to move away the ring tugged me back. It felt really weird.”
Kirsty opened out the first message.
“It isn’t as detailed as the second,” mentioned Aranel. “Can you read it?”
“Yep. No problem. These torcs are really good. I wish I had had one when I was doing my degree. It would have made life so much easier.”
Aranel forbore to ask what a degree was. Something was puzzling her. The torcs, or so she had always be
lieved, gave understanding to the spoken tongues, not written. Kirsty shouldn’t have been able to read the words. She stored the conundrum in the back of her mind to think about later. They had plenty of other problems to work out and beside them, the problem about why Kirsty could read Elfish rather paled into insignificance.
“So,” Kirsty said, after she had read it through twice. “We know most of this already and, more importantly, we understand it. We have an enemy, the one he talks about and can assume, I think, that this enemy destroyed your castle and also abducted my mother. My ring is the second one of the first threesome and we must find the others. We must also find this Tathar person. Any ideas?”
“I think he has gone to Ndorenisgiathatch, where the dragons live,” said Aranel.
“That’s a bit vague,” said Urieline, “Ndorenisgiathatch is a big place.”
“It’s all I’ve got,” answered Aranel, flaring up, “it wasn’t easy up there at Nosta you know.”
“Enough squabbling you two,” said Kirsty absently. She was concentrating on the letter Aranel had found in the tower ruins there. “This one is far more complicated. It repeats most of the first, smaller note but in more detail then adds a whole lot more. Some of it is, to me, pure gibberish, but I’m not conversant with the intricacies of elven history and language, for all that I can read it.”
“Why would he repeat some of it?” asked Aranel, who was not so deep thinking as Kirsty, with her academic background and questioning mind. Aranel was the one who was more prone to acting first, thinking second.
“Covering himself. Making sure that you got the information,” surmised Kirsty. “Look. This enemy might have got to this, or the other one first. This way at least you would have got enough to go on no matter what.”
“As it is I’ve got them both,” Aranel said in a pleased voice. “What are you doing?”
Kirsty had pulled a small notebook and pen out of her bag.
“I’m going to make a few notes, a list perhaps, it might help me make sense of it. Cut out the dross, so I’m working with only the bits that are important.”
Aranel sat and watched as Kirsty, bent over her knees, began to write. When she at last raised her head, she had managed to write the proposed list.