The Revenge of the Elves (16 page)

“No. I didn’t mean it that way. It wasn’t Sidra’s devices I was referring to, but the Dark One’s probing,” Esta explained. “What if he’s discovered? How safe is he really?”

Tomas stood and paced the floor as they talked. Abruptly he stopped moving and looked up at the chandelier suspended in the middle of the starlit canopy. “I must leave Avalain!” he exclaimed, surprising them with his outburst.

Stunned, Elion stared at him. “What do you mean? Why? Where will you go, Tomas? If Sidra’s given you sanctuary for however long, should you not accept it?” Elion protested.

“Perhaps you should reconsider this. You need to rest. You need to contact Ormachon,” Esta said. “Remember Tomas, Sidra advised you to stay here in Avalain. I was only speculating before. Maybe you are safe. It’s your brother who needs to find the Gem. He’s the heir,” she said, regretting the words the minute they left her mouth. Tomas barely flinched.

“I can’t wait any longer, despite what Sidra said. I know that now. What you said about my brother is true for me too, Esta. And about my father. Staying does nothing for us. Sidra’s wise, Elion, but she doesn’t understand the intensity of the bond. I can’t speak with Ormachon from behind her shield, so we have no choice but to leave.” He paused. “Will you come with me, Elion, if I ask you to?” He looked hard at him.

“Of course!” Elion replied without hesitation. He’d grown accustomed to Tomas’ impetuous decisions, and he trusted them, though they shocked him still. “You are the leader, Tomas. Have you not recognized that yet?” Elion asked. “I’ll do anything you need me to do.”

“Where will you go Tomas? To Odelot as you originally planned?” Esta inquired, still worried that her harshness had precipitated this decision. “And what of Preston and Stephanie? Really, you must consider this response. It should not be made in haste.”

“I have to talk to Ormachon and I can’t do it here. I’m not sure where I must go. The Chosen couldn’t advise me on this, but I can’t ignore him any longer as I’ve been doing. The shield that protects us also prevents me from reaching him, so I have no choice but to leave. It’s clear, isn’t it? Sometimes things become so clear so quickly,” he explained. “I’ll ask Preston if he will come with us, but Stephanie should remain here with you,” Tomas said. “She was seeking only a safe place when she joined us. She’s frightened and lonely. I can’t lead her into more danger and more risk.”

“It would be a great joy to have her stay in Avalain. I’ve lost my husband already and the only other person with whom I’ve been able to confer and be at ease with, won’t soon be returning. I look forward to Stephanie’s company,” Esta said.

“Will we return to Pardeau then?” Elion asked. The urgency in Tomas’ voice made him apprehensive.

“No, Not now. Ormachon and I can still communicate from a distance. Though it’s not the same as being with him, it will have to do,” Tomas said. He sat down and laid his arms loosely on the cushioned rests. “I know Sidra has done what she believes is best. But she’s also forced me to choose once again. Sometimes I think she’s testing me, that she’s waiting for me to make these decisions by myself. She told us to stay here until it was safe to leave. What could that mean? Safe to leave?” he asked, leaning forward and cupping his chin in his hands.

“We can’t remain hidden in Avalain until your brother finds the Gem. Her concern was that Caeltin would locate you if you left, wasn’t it?” Elion said. “What makes it safe to leave now?”

“He’s preparing for war. His thoughts are occupied with other things,” Esta suggested.

“He thinks he’s winning perhaps? He sees the trees dying. He sees the earth suffering from the losses,” Elion added.

Esta walked over to Tomas and put her hand on his shoulder. “You must follow your instincts. There are no right and wrong answers sometimes until our actions create them. Another Lalas has died and yet another is dying. Your father gave up in the face of events like these. If you give up, all will be lost,” Esta said. “Sidra gave you the opportunity to discover this. I know her. She wouldn’t encourage you to hide. She would only encourage you to learn and then to act.”

Tomas turned his attention to his friend. “Once we leave, Elion, we can’t return. We would lead the danger right back here. The moment we step outside of the shield, we could be noticed.” They all knew what that meant. They would be saying goodbye indefinitely.

Esta agreed. “We must fight. We must all fight. When will you depart, Tomas?” Her heart was as heavy as it was when Filaree first left for Pardatha. Heavier perhaps.

“Soon. I have to leave very soon. Another Lalas will be gone shortly and it will be even harder to hold the world together. Without them it unravels, everything unravels.”

“How will I know you are safe?” she asked with a mother’s yearning. She stroked his shoulder.

So many goodbyes. There’s no dignity in death,
he realized.
There’s only longing and regret. Reconciliation is for the living.
“I will get word to you, Esta. I promise,” Tomas replied. “Somehow…”

Chapter Seventeen

He sat on a simple chair in the middle of a sparsely furnished room with unadorned walls and a bare floor. A modest window in the peak of the ceiling allowed a single streak of light in, and it illuminated the spot on the floor upon which he focused his attention. He stared at it and something stirred. From nothing, from emptiness, something grew. He lifted his hand and drew small, intricate circles in the air above it with grace and passion, as if playing music upon a silent wind. The sleeve of his shirt fell back over his elbow, revealing a veined and muscular arm that looked like it was carved from a block of stone. The blood pulsed and pumped, flowing across his skin, surging, as he conjured the abomination that took shape before him.

“Watch, my beauties. Watch and learn. Do not look away,” Colton said to the six Possessed assembled on the floor around him. “Until the totality is destroyed, its elements can be remade over and over again, over and over indefinitely. Though they do not retain the same spirit,” he scoffed, “they are effective nonetheless. It’s ironic that the very essence which I so desire to still, is that which allows for its rejuvenation! I am able to use life to further its own destruction. Birth is the beginning of death,” he smiled wryly.

The chamber echoed with a sucking noise, and the object spun and spun like a lump of unformed clay on a potter’s wheel. Colton’s fingers danced in the air around it, thinning it out and drawing it upward. He caressed it into form, stroked it with a parent’s love. It rose at his touch, surging with blood, strong, erect. He sang as he worked his magic, his notes dancing around the obscurum like things you could grasp hold of, while the women watched in silence, their breath barely raising their breasts, mesmerized by his power.

The shapeless mass gained a rudimentary definition beneath his hands. Two legs and a torso stretched toward the ceiling. It rocked and shivered, shuddered in its birth, trembled with longing as it rose. His fingers twirled and frolicked over the object and it elongated further until two arms and a head appeared atop the reeling horror, drawn out from within its amorphous hulk. It gyrated so fast that the women could not yet decipher its features, but they marveled at their master’s prowess. He was the ultimate sculptor, the carver of life from remnants, spirit from dust.

Colton began the process again just to the left of his original work, and another object materialized before them. Both figures turned and turned, and they grew clearer and more precise with each revolution. Pointing to the right, he repeated his motions one more time. Three torsos now whirled so fast it was dizzying to watch.

“Behold!” he said, dropping his hands to his side. His eyes glinted and his perfect lips curled up, pleased, proud, like the father he was.

Music rang throughout the room, discordant yet harmonic. Colors flashed and swirled before their eyes. The chamber was alive with a frenetic power, a potency that made them wet with longing. By now their breasts heaved in expectation, their nipples hard and expectant, aflame with life’s nectar. They waited to succor the newborn.

The spinning ceased and the Possessed stared at the beings in front of them. So beautiful. So perfect. Tall, thin, muscular creatures. Long, auburn hair hung soft upon their shoulders, caressing their golden skin. Sensuous lips curved upward in half smiles, beguiling smiles that beckoned to be parted. Their abdomens were sculpted muscle, and their manhood hung before them, pendulous and full of promise.

Colton pointed to the wall on his right and a bright light flared at his command. He repeated the motion, jabbing the air, and the room blazed like a dying star. The ceiling rose into the sky above, and the walls glistened and gleamed, adorning themselves in response to his achievement. The unadorned chamber blossomed into a lush Eden; a paradise of beauty that left the women panting, damp and anxious. The floor radiated, and the chair upon which the Dark One sat became an elaborate throne, glorious in its bearing, fit for the King of Kings.

Rising, he walked toward his creations. They stood motionless with closed eyes, like three matching statues, identical in all respects. He circled the trio, running his fingers over their shoulders, caressing the muscular curves of their backs, down their buttocks, across their hips. He leaned in close, as if to kiss the nearest one on its exquisite lips. Exhaling, he breathed the slightest of breaths upon its face and then backed away. Its eyes sprung open, shining, gleaming blue and alive in the brilliant light that flooded the room. He pulled its hair back, smoothed it and clipped it behind its head with a silver, leaf- shaped pin. Its long, pointed elfin ears stood out prominently. Its manhood stirred.

Repeating the process twice more, the remaining ones came to life. They eyed him like a father with the innocence of children. The women shifted in their places, unable to keep still, breathless with anticipation. He bowed his head without looking at them and their robes fell to the floor. Pleased with his work, he turned and left the room.

Chapter Eighteen

“Shh!” Conrad whispered. “Don’t move.”

“What is it?” Tamara asked, hushed.

“Not sure. The nearest town is on the other side of Parth. No one just wanders in this forest. Never! There’s no reason to be here unless you’re looking for something.”

“Or someone,” Tamara added.

“Stay behind this tree. I’ll scout around,” Conrad said and slipped away.

“You be careful too,” Tamara warned him.

He didn’t make a sound. She admired his stealth, he was not a man of slight stature. Keeping as quiet as possible, she focused on the noises of the forest.

She reached out with both her hearing and her mind’s eye as far as she could. The wind rustled the treetops and the sun reached the forest floor in only a few places. She looked up, but couldn’t see anything overhead. The canopy above was gray and gloomy. The broad leaves allowed only modest amounts of sunlight to work its way through. A tiny animal scurried by, unconcerned with her presence, and birds flitted from branch to branch, chattering, carefree. The clamor of the woodland was lighthearted with no hint of danger in it, despite the gloominess of the place.

The noise they heard moments before was harsher and louder than the sounds she was hearing now. The animals were never careless with their movements, and they rarely snapped branches or disturbed the trees as they scurried through the underbrush. Even when they didn’t sense that danger was present, they moved with quiet grace across the forest floor. No! What they heard a few moments ago came from someone or something that was not born of these woods and was unconcerned with being discovered.

Again! There it is again!
Tamara thought, startled.
Closer this time. There. Over there.
Her eyes shot to the left, and she pressed her back harder into the shelter of the cetus tree.
Where’s Conrad?
She stared into the clump of brush.

Her hand reached for the pouch that held the shard. Whenever she touched it, it comforted her, though that comfort was always overshadowed by a deep and cloying sadness. And each time she withdrew her fingers, she felt older somehow, as if eons had passed in just a few seconds. She couldn’t understand what she felt, couldn’t make sense of the sensations, but the shard seemed to harbor so much within it and to transmit bits and pieces with each contact. Now it was only longing pulling at her, tugging upon her spirit, and she paled in response, chilled by the feeling.

Conrad slipped behind a wide tree and ducked low to the ground some ten yards from Tamara. The leaves were dried on the forest floor, and he walked with care so he wouldn’t crush them underfoot. Inch by inch, he moved along. Something up ahead shook the trees, indifferent to the noises it made.

Careless. Why?
he wondered.
So strong? Not afraid? Or dumb?

The light played games with his eyes, darting across the surface wherever it broke through from above.
There! Over there!
He thought he saw something moving.
Nothing there. Could have sworn
… A loud crack split the air. He spun around quickly, silently. This time there was no mistaking the noise. A branch broke right beside him!

Tamara heard the same noise from the shelter of the tree under which she sat, barely breathing. It couldn’t be Conrad, she knew that. He wouldn’t give his location away by making such a clumsy mistake. Besides, she felt the presence of another now, close by. Her heart beat fast, and she wondered where Conrad was since this noise seemed so near. She leaned in tighter to the flat side of the tree trunk and sank low into the loose surface beneath her.

Closer. There! No. Silence. I hear it again.
Her head spun around.
Behind me?
She thought about standing up and trying to sneak away before it found her.

Conrad doubled back. What he tracked had moved closer to where Tamara sat. The noises seemed so far away at first, it surprised him how fast they drew near. Too fast. Sneaking from tree to tree, he took great care to stay in the shadows and down wind from whatever stalked these woods. If it was a beast, it might smell him. If it was a forest troll, it definitely could! What else could it be? He wondered why it wasn’t more careful in its movements, stealthier, more concerned with being discovered. No one entered these woods to hunt any longer, maybe the animals had grown careless. But unlike Tamara, he didn’t believe that. He assumed the worst. He prepared for it.

Tamara stood up, hugging the tree. The cetus tree was four cornered, easy to stay hidden behind it. She didn’t want to be caught slumped against a tree. She preferred to be standing upright if this intruder came upon her. She eased herself around the edge of the trunk toward the noise and in the direction Conrad set out in.

Where is he? Where did he go? Not too far. He wouldn’t go too far.
Crack! She leaned hard into the wood and held her breath.
Close this time. Too close. He had to hear it. Conrad?

Crack….crack. Another large branch snapped nearby, and then the entire tree in front of her rustled, its leaves falling to the forest floor. Still, she saw nothing on either side of it. Where’s Conrad? Venturing out from the cover of the tree, she stepped forward. She advanced with reluctance, one step at a time, to the large tree ahead. Crack! She heard it again, this time to the left and behind.

More than one? Where? Where?
The branches shook and a puff of leaves settled to the ground. Her skin prickled and her imagination went wild.
What is it? A beast? So quick. It moves so quick.
Her heart skipped.

The leaves scattered, and it sounded like an animal was foraging on the forest floor, but still she couldn’t see anything distinct. A wide bush blocked her path and she walked toward it. Squatting down, she backed around its circumference.

“What? Oh my!” she gasped and lurched to the side. Her skin touched something warm, something alive and it was definitely not a branch. Turning, she lurched up and back, shocked.

The animal before her seemed unsurprised by the encounter and scarcely even moved at the contact. It appeared to be human, but she couldn’t tell for certain. She stepped away, unsure just what to do. It didn’t look dangerous, and there was no way it was poised to attack. Its hands were dark and covered with what looked like dried grass, and its fingers were tipped with long, curving nails, black and dirty. It stood upon two legs, and it wore some kind of clothing over its torso, though it was hard to tell what it was made of. She looked into its eyes, then she knew she was safe. The veiny whites stood out against its hairy skin, and its look was plaintive with no hint of anger or malice. In fact, it appeared kindly in a pathetic sort of way. It stood taller than she did, eyeing her up and down.

She moved and it mimicked her actions. She stepped to the side and it did too. She hunched her shoulders, and so did it. Then she thrust out her hand toward it in a gesture of friendship, and it hesitated for the first time, as if not understanding, before doing the same. Tamara grasped the outstretched hand and shook it, its rough skin and strong fingers closing around her own.

“My name is Tamara,” she said slowly, not certain if it could understand her.

The creature watched her closely. Dropping her hand, it backed up a pace and nodded as if she had just passed a test of sorts. It rubbed its brown eyes with its hairy hands. Staring hard at Tamara and squinching its eyes together it raised its eyebrows. It flared its big nostrils a couple of times and cocked its head first to the right and then to the left, and once more to the right. She wanted to laugh aloud, its behavior was almost comical to watch, but she didn’t want to insult it.

“And I’m Harlan Goodheart,” it said in a clear voice.

“You do understand!” she replied, surprised. She knew it wasn’t a monster.

“Why wouldn’t I? Do I look odd to you?” he asked, bewildered.

“Well, to be honest, Master Goodheart, you do not look like a hunter or a soldier. You look more like a….a….”

“A what?” he asked, confused.

“Now please don’t misunderstand me. I mean no insult to you by this, but you really look more like a…” she still hesitated.

He waited expectantly.

“Well, not like any person I’ve met before…”

“Like a beast, you mean?” Harlan replied.

“I suppose,” she replied. “But now I see you are as human as I am.”

“Hmmm,” he said in a sing song way. “As human as I am,” he repeated, seeming to like that description. Then his eyes narrowed and his mood changed. “I don’t come across too many people here anymore. Not in a while, not since the Darkening. The woods are rather quiet these days.” He looked past her into the trees. He had an accent she couldn’t place, neither northern nor southern, from nowhere around Parth. His features too were not like those of any town or city folk she knew, nor of any others who had visited the Tower as long as she could recall.

“The Darkening?” Tamara questioned. That word was unfamiliar to her.

“Can’t you see, woman? Look around. Where’s the light?” he asked, swinging his arm about. “The trees have scarcely any leaves, the sky is clear but the forest is bleak.”

He was right but she didn’t realize it until now. No foliage obstructed the sun from lighting the forest floor and yet it was shrouded in shadows and gloom.

“Well now that you mention it, I do see it. I assumed the treetops were very full, and they blocked the sunlight from getting through,” she replied, looking up into the sky.

“They’re thin. As thin as rails! Sparse. Straggly. Dying. It’s the Darkening,” he said again, searching around as if someone was listening. “Ah! Look at that!” Pointing to a spot near his foot, he dropped on all fours and scratched the surface with his long nails, like some kind of scrounging animal. She watched as he stood up and displayed a large nut he held between his thumb and pointer. “They’re delectable,” he said, cracking it between his fingers. “You want to taste it?” he offered.

“Thank you,” Tamara replied, reaching for a piece. She didn’t want to affront him by refusing his offer. Putting it into her mouth, she bit down upon the soft meat. “This is delightful.” The nut had a sweet, earthy taste to it that burst upon her tongue. Delicious.

Conrad returned to the area. He’d heard the conversation from a distance, thinking it sounded like Tamara was talking to herself, until he saw the silhouette of the animal standing in the shadows. From behind, it resembled a bear. Approaching with care, he snuck from tree to tree without exposing himself. When he drew closer he realized it wasn’t an animal at all, but something much more human-like, and it was speaking. He heard the conversation but remained hidden.

“Well hello!” Harlan said, whipping his torso around and facing the tree behind which Conrad concealed himself. “What took you so long to come back?” Surprised and embarrassed, Conrad stepped out from his hiding spot. “Would you like a taste?” Harlan asked, offering a piece of the nutmeat.

“No, thank you,” Conrad replied. Despite being unusual looking, the beast had no weapons in his hands or on his belt. “You’ve been watching us? Do you live here in this forest?” Conrad stepped forward.

“Oh yes,” he replied. His straggly hair hung around his shoulders and his beard mixed with it in such a manner it was impossible to distinguish where one began and the other ended. He smelled strongly of the earth.

“I’ve traveled here many times, and I’ve never seen you in these woods. Have you lived here for long?” Conrad asked, unsettled by Harlan’s presence. No one lived in these woods as far as he knew.

“As long as I can remember,” Harlan replied. “I have seen you though. I never forget a face… or a smell,” he said, sniffing the air. “No offense intended,” his voice was between a growl and a grumble.

“None taken,” Tamara intervened, glancing at Conrad with a settling look.

Harlan seemed affable enough, but Conrad rested his hand on his knife hilt and watched. He walked to Tamara’s side and she squeezed his arm.
Indulge me
, her touch said.

“We’re on our way to Parth. I hope we haven’t disturbed you by going this way. Have we far to go still?” she asked.

Conrad scowled. She knew he could answer that question himself and she revealed their plans too willingly.

“It’s not so simple anymore. Not simple at all,” Harlan replied, his eyes clouding over, his face contorted. “I could show you the way around if you wish. But you won’t like it.”

“Around what?” Conrad asked. There was nothing in the woods they needed to walk around.

“The Darkening. You haven’t been listening, have you?” Harlan responded like a teacher annoyed with his student. “You cannot go through it.” He leaned in closer to Conrad. “It’s not passable,” he whispered as if someone might overhear him.

“What are you talking about? The Darkening?” Conrad frowned. He wondered what game this man-beast was playing with them. He stepped closer to Tamara and shielded her body with his own.

“The last time you were here things were different, not like they are now. How long ago was that? I don’t remember,” he scratched his head with the long nail of his index finger. “I can’t even forage where I wish. I can’t get to half of the places I used to go to and the nuts are harder and harder to find,” he said, concerned more with the nutmeats than anything else it seemed. “It’s not the same here. Not the same at all. No one comes to the woods anymore,” he paused, “except you two.”

“If you know so much of my comings and goings, why didn’t you approach me before?” Conrad asked. He didn’t trust him. He would have known if someone had tracked him when he entered the woods.

“There was no reason to. None at all, no sir. I don’t seek any friends and you weren’t my enemy, so why should I bother you? You harmed nothing here. And, you’ve no interest in the nuts!” he answered.

“So what’s changed? What stops you from going where you wish? And why are you talking to us now if you seek no friends?” Conrad asked.

“The Darkening,” Harlan answered again.

“What my friend really wants to know, Master Goodheart, is what kind of obstruction this change has created. What exactly is ‘the Darkening’?” Tamara intervened. “I know it must be frustrating for you to have to forego the hunt for those delicious edibles.” She’d realized right away what was important to him.