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She found another stairway leading to the ground level of Belmaeron and followed it, excitement building inside her. Elves, as she remembered from the legends she knew, were known as the best archers on the other side of the Fangs. She wondered what she hoped to do without a bow, but it didn’t dampen her anticipation.
The clangs of steel on steel, the shouts of orders being given and received, and the hammering of what she guessed was a forge echoed in the distance. Amid the giant trees, in large clearings, guards were being trained. She passed one clearing in which experts were sparring with trainees, like a dance with swords. After glancing at them she quickly turned away, afraid to disturb their concentration.
She continued down the path, her eyes following the tree trunks up to the platforms above to heights that never ceased to awe her. She stopped in front of one particularly enormous tree, watching the light breeze tease the leaves like playful children.
“Hello,” a deep voice said from behind her, startling her. She quickly turned and looked up at him. She took a step back in surprise. His bare, tanned chest was that of a man, but from the waist down he had a horse’s body, covered in chestnut-colored hair. She didn’t recall learning about this creature in her legends, but she racked her brain to try to remember. “You’re not from here, are you?”
“Um, no,” she said, unable to keep her eyes off his hooves. She kept thinking back to what legends she’d learned, but she couldn’t remember ever seeing a creature so strange, even in a picture. Yet she didn’t want to be impolite. “I’m sorry,” she smiled. “My name is Rain.” She held out her hand in greeting.
He paused a moment, and then seemed to remember what to do and shook her hand. “And mine is Aeraldor. I am the archery instructor here in Belmaeron.” He continued to shake her hand with his strong grip.
“You are?” She asked as he finally let go of her hand. Perhaps they didn’t shake hands here. She decided to stick to bowing. “Would you mind if I took a look at the training area? I’ve never been here before, and I wondered…”
“No, of course you can. Welcome to Belmaeron.” He smiled warmly. “This way,” he said, continuing down the path.
After a few twists and turns, they approached another clearing where three elven guards were shooting at targets marked on the trunk of one of the enormous trees. Two more guards stood off to the side, seeming to be waiting their turn. All the elves were male. The bows they used were much longer than she was used to, but she figured that wouldn’t matter, if she used magic.
“Kalmin,” Aeraldor said, and the elf at the far left turned around as he pulled out an arrow from the quiver strapped to his hip. The target in front of him had been hit with three arrows, tightly clustered around the middle of the target. “I have someone who would like to see our archery practice area. Would you care to demonstrate?”
The elf turned to look at her and nodded, smiling smugly. He looked young, perhaps her age, but because of the ageless look of elves, she could be wrong. On top of the typical light armor of the guards, they all wore dark blue sleeveless surcoats, with the symbol of the elves stitched in silver on the front: a tree encircled by a twisting, knotted design.
He turned back to face his target, raising his bow. Smoothly, he drew back the arrow he had just nocked. Immediately he let it go. It thudded into the center of the target, clustering with the other three arrows.
Aeraldor laid a hand on Kalmin’s shoulder. “Perfect shot, as always.”
“How heavy is the bow?” Rain asked, ready to compare it to the one she had used at home.
Both Aeraldor and Kalmin turned to look at her with curiosity. “You shoot?” Kalmin asked.
“Well, yes, I’ve been training for a while now.” She smiled uneasily, disappointed to find that women didn’t shoot here, either.
Aeraldor turned back to Kalmin. “Let her take a shot and see its weight for herself. Hand over your bow and an arrow.”
“You’re letting her shoot?” the guard standing beside Kalmin asked. “But she’s not in training. And besides, elf-women can’t—” He stopped in midsentence when Aeraldor gave him a stern look.
“Yes, Bremin, I am letting her shoot. Now give her the bow,” the centaur said with authority, and Kalmin did as he was asked.
Rain took the bow and an arrow from him, and marveled at their craftsmanship. The wood on the grip was cleanly polished, and the arrow had perfect fletching. Kalmin stepped aside and she took his place in front of the target. She noticed the silence around her as the two other guards that were shooting stopped and watched her. She had never felt so pressured to do this right.
She took a couple deep breaths to calm down, all the while feeling six pairs of eyes watching her. Trying not to pay attention to them, she emptied her mind of everything but the target. She nocked the arrow, lifted the bow, and began to draw the string, astonished at the strength required to pull it back. Unable to use her own strength, but not wanting to be viewed as weak after Bremin’s comment, she decided using her magic wouldn’t hurt. Letting the now familiar feeling of confident strength fill her, her hands began glowing red. Her strengthened muscles easily pulled the string all the way to her cheek, and she released the arrow.
It struck the tree trunk in the dead center of the target and joined the small cluster of arrows. She smiled in satisfaction and turned to Kalmin to give his bow back.
Instead of the praise she expected, they all stared at her strangely. Was it fear? “What was that red light?” Bremin asked warily.
“You’re a moon elf,” Kalmin said with astonishment. “And you shoot like a pro,” he said, winking. Thankfully, that broke the stunned silence and a few of them smiled, agreeing with him.
“But what’s a moon elf?” Bremin turned to Kalmin, confused.
“Leave it, Bremin.” Kalmin said, taking his bow back from her and getting out another arrow from his hip quiver.
“Get back to your practicing, all of you.” Aeraldor ordered. “And young elf,” he said, speaking quietly to her, “I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”
***
Rain nodded and followed, wondering what this was about. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that everyone but Bremin and Kalmin had begun shooting again. The two were talking quietly off to the side. Turning forward again, she followed the centaur down a sunlit path through the trees.
“Aeraldor, why did Kalmin know about moon elves, and not Bremin?” she asked.
“Kalmin is one of the few elves that study their race’s history,” he answered, looking at the road ahead. “He is young, but he has already learned much. I believe, if we did not need so many new recruits, he would have become a historian.”
Troubled with thoughts of loss, they walked in silence. Squirrels and birds rustled in the undergrowth and chattered in the treetops. It was strange for Rain to walk beside the centaur, as if except for his human torso, he were a horse that was leading her somewhere, instead of the other way around. Rain was about to break the silence and ask him where they were going, but he stopped moving. She looked ahead and gaped.
Before them was a high cliff. Far below, trees and undergrowth grew so thickly that she couldn’t see the ground, and the forest seemed to stretch on to the horizon. The city of Belmaeron overlooked the enormous forest. “Amazing,” she breathed.
“What you’re seeing is what we call the Hollow.”
“Wizard Rowena mentioned the Hollow. Is it not safe to travel anymore? It doesn’t appear much wilder than the forest up here.”
Aeraldor smiled at Rowena’s name. “So you’ve seen Rowena already? She’ll be glad to know you’re here.” Rain sensed that he’d quickly figured out who she was after they met, and that he’d decided didn’t need to be discussed. “Don’t let looks deceive you. The Hollow is large, perhaps taking up a third of the whole of Ellwood. We cannot view its center, the most magically sensitive part, from here. The entire area is surrounded by high cliffs, like you see here. There are only a few ways down into it, and not many people make the venture these days. The Soulblight has halted many things.”
“Rowena talked about that. Spirit magic?” she asked.
“I personally don’t know much about magic. In the early stages of the Soulblight, the afflicted comes down with a fever, but then it dissipates and they are left with a feeling of pessimism and depression. Soon thereafter, they stop talking and communicating altogether. Their bodies continue to live, but it is as if their spirits die. Sometimes, though, their eyes turn black and they whisper awful things.” Rain thought of the wolves, and Damien’s possession, but stayed silent. “The elemental wizards and witches have tried their best at healing the afflicted, but no cure has yet been found. We’ve had to train more guards to keep our city borders safe from potentially dangerous outsiders. Thus, what happened with Kalmin.” Looking out across the forest below them, a grin stole across his face. “We don’t see a lot of magic performed in Ellwood anymore.” He looked at her and said, “It was a good treat, what you showed the trainees. We have to remember we still have some magic on our side. It’s not completely hopeless.”
Rain nodded, not really sure what to say. She had only been selfishly trying to show off to the guards. “You seem to know a lot about all this. Will you be at the Council meeting?”
“Seeing you here, I’m not surprised they’re calling one. It’s about time. I’ll definitely be there. Wouldn’t miss it.”
Rain wondered why he’d bothered showing her the Hollow. It’s not like she was planning on traveling down there. Thoughts of traveling made her think of Pan, and decided she’d better pay him a visit. She was certainly curious what elven stables would be like.
“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Aeraldor. I’ve never met a… sorry, but what are you, exactly?”
“Centaur. My race has been left out of the legends for purposes only our ancestors know, but we do have the tendency of being solitary, wanting little contact with others.” He sighed and looked at the dense forest below. “Current events have given us reason to ask for help, though. Many of my close friends and family have been hurt by the Soulblight. It’s partly why I’m here, other than the fact that centaurs are just as good, if not better than elves at archery,” He winked. “But don’t worry about us. We’re protecting ourselves with the help of the elves and their magic, and the larger problems will likely be brought up in the Council meeting.”
“I’ll see you then, Aeraldor,” she said, and gave a small bow this time, in farewell.
He looked at her with wise eyes and bowed in return, bending his front hoofed leg for added effect. “I will lead you back to the stairs, if you’d like.”
“Actually, I’d like to visit the stables. Would you just point me in that direction?”
“Certainly.”
The centaur walked her back to the training area and pointed down a side path, telling her to take her first left and continue until the end of the path. She thanked him and they went their separate ways.
***
Rain soon came to a large white barn, larger even than the stables at the Mourning Lady. Outside stood two elven guards. Almost too much protection, she thought, but remembered Damien. Maybe not enough.
Rain bowed awkwardly. “I’m Rain, I arrived with Wizard Deaglan. I’m here to see my horse. Just to check on him.”
“Enter, Sister,” the guards said, speaking and bowing in unison. Rain frowned, wondering if “sister” was some kind of hint at their shared elven heritage. The guards moved aside so that the doorway was clear.
Rain stepped forward and pushed open the doors, which swung inward. Inside, daylight filtered through high, open windows in the white wood, above the stalls. It didn’t even feel like wood to the touch, instead almost like stone, but lighter. It must have been the same material everything was made of here. Heartwood.
Movement in the stables startled her, and she quickly saw that she was not alone. Shea emerged from a stall, and waved to her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, walking towards him. She peered over stalls as she went, looking for Pan.
“What, a man can’t care for his horse a little?”
Rain found Pan in the stall beside the one Shea had been in. His deep black stallion was munching happily on something.
“That’s not what I meant,” she said, opening Pan’s stall.
“Here.” Rain looked over and saw Shea was holding out an apple. “Ellwood apple, from our rooms. Horse treat.”
“Thanks.” She took the apple and entered the stall. Pan nodded his head, nuzzling her. She gave him a scratch on the nose, a pat on the neck, and held out the apple to him. He picked it up with his lips in one swift motion and started chewing.
The stall beside hers clicked, and she turned to see Shea leaning against the doorway to Pan’s stall. “To answer your question, Ahearn and I have been together for quite a while. It’s always odd to let someone else take care of him. I had to check on things.”
“Ahearn?” she asked, finding a brush hooked on the wall. She started brushing Pan even though the elves appeared to have already gotten rid of all of his stray hairs. An amazing feat.
“The big boy over there.” He pointed his thumb at the black stallion. “The Knights gave him to me a couple years ago, when I completed my training and started going on short missions.”
Rain couldn’t help the urge to brag. “I was there to witness Pan’s birth. He was mine as soon as he was old enough to ride.”
“Well, then.” Shea walked forward and gave Pan a pat. “He’s a good horse.”
“Certainly is.” She put the brush back. “The elves definitely know how to take care of their animals. I can’t find one loose hair.”
“I have to agree. For a race that doesn’t use horses as often as humans do, they know a lot about caring for them.”
Rain gave Pan one last pat and left the stall. Shea moved so she could lock the door behind her.
“Walk with me?” Rain asked, heading towards the front of the barn.
“Sure.”
The guards let them leave without a word.
“How’s your leg?” Rain asked as they walked down the main path.
“It’s great, actually. Whiskey took me to an elven healer, and in no time it felt like it was never bitten.”
Rain was silent for a moment, and decided to tell him about all that she found out. She told him about Rowena, the magic incident at the training area, and Aeraldor.
“You met a centaur?” Shea asked, incredulous. “I’ve only heard of them once, and only briefly. There’s next to nothing on them in the Libraries.”
“Yep,” she smiled. “It was incredible. Like a talking horse!”
Shea chuckled. “That’s probably considered a rude comment.”
Rain ignored him. “There’s a curse, Shea. They call it the Soulblight. There’s a stage in which people’s eyes turn black, and they whisper things. It reminded me of Damien, and the wolves.” She looked Shea in the eye. “What if it’s spread by animal bite?”
Shea shook his head. “I’m not sick. Besides, I was wearing the aegis. Doesn’t it protect against those things?”
“I guess so… but I thought it only protected against the fear spell.”
“There are more important things to worry about than my health,” he said, grinning.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Rain said, but wondered whether he was right to think her worry was about more than just the nature of the Soulblight. Her thoughts turned back to Aeraldor, and his sadness about Kalmin’s fate as a guard rather than a historian. “This feels like the absolute wrong time to be coming to ask for help from the elves,” she said.
“It sounds to me like Myrna and this curse are connected,” Shea said. “On the contrary, this is just the right time to be coming together to work things out. We fight a common enemy.”
“I guess you’re right,” she said. As they started up the staircase up to the city, Rain thought of Damien’s possession by Myrna, and shivered.
***
The next morning, the bright sunlight shone past leaves and branches and made the square pattern of the window on Rain’s bedspread. She slowly got out of bed, enjoying the luxurious feeling of not sleeping on the ground. The bed felt even more comfortable than the one she had back home. Home. She brushed the thought away, busying herself with getting dressed.
As she reached for her usual clothes, she saw some kind of white clothing, folded on the floor by the door. Someone must have left it for her while she was sleeping. Picking it up, she found it was a long-sleeved, white velvet dress. She tried it on, telling herself it was just to see if it fit. The fabric fit perfectly, the sleeves drooping elegantly at the elbow and the hem at the bottom just barely missing the ground. The neckline was low enough that the aegis she wore hung just above it. There was no hiding it in this dress. She considered it in the bathroom’s mirror. Her red hair stood out against the white of the dress.
She jumped at a knock at the door.
“Can I come in?”
It was Shea. Without time to change out of her dress, she hurriedly stowed her nightgown and made her bed. “Ah, yes,” she said, embarrassed he would see her in such a formal outfit, one that she was now very sure she wasn’t going to wear anywhere.
He stepped into the room. It was odd to see him out of traveling gear. He wore a clean white tunic tucked into dark breeches, his hair freshly washed. A faint smell of lavender drifted from him, and she realized it was probably the same bath soap they had provided in her own room. “I just wanted to tell you we’re going to—” He stopped when he finally saw what she was wearing. “You look amazing.”
She blushed and hated herself for putting on the dress. “I found it on my floor, I don’t know where it came from.”
“Whiskey put it there, I expect. He gave me the clothes I’m wearing. I came to tell you we’re going to the Council today.” He smiled. “It looks perfect on you.”
“The Council? Already?” She sighed. “Is this what he wants me to wear?” She looked up to consider his outfit. “You don’t look bad yourself.”
Before he could reply, Whiskey popped in the room from behind the open door. He was wearing regal dark purple robes. “The dress of a Sister,” he said. “It does fit you, as well it should.”
“A sister? The guards said that to me yesterday. What does it mean? That I’m an elf?”
“No, not just any elf, a Sister of the moon elves. It’s a title. That dress is worn by moon elves who have the power to wield innate magic. Its color is representative of the white energy. By right, you should be wearing it to show your rank at the Council.”
“Why is the Council meeting so soon?” she asked. “I thought you said it would take days to get everyone assembled.”
“Things happened more quickly than I expected. Many of the leaders are here already, because of the problems with the Soulblight. They were already planning a gathering of the Council gathering.”
Rain glanced at Shea. She could tell he was doing his best not to stare at her. She rolled her eyes. “Why do I have to ‘show my rank’? I barely know how to do anything with this magic.”
“Not everyone in this forest can live for hundreds of years. Many people don’t remember the moon elves. Some will not believe you exist. The dress will help us show that we are not just speculating. They all must know that you are a moon elf, and that you carry innate magic. That alone will help immensely if we want to find out exactly what happened to the moon elves. We haven’t gotten far, even with a hundred years of searching.”
“I guess that makes sense,” she said. Her stomach tightened and she worried what he expected her to do. Perform magic tricks in front of an audience? His lessons were difficult enough without people staring at her.
“I’ll go finish getting ready,” Shea finally said, and left to his room, leaving Whiskey still in her doorway.
Whiskey looked at her and smiled reassuringly. “You’re beautiful. Don’t worry about what people think about you. It matters that they know who you are.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and she smiled at the comforting gesture. “It will be alright. Finish getting ready, I expect they will be here to take us to the Council chambers very soon.”
***
When an elven messenger came and said it was time for the Council to begin, they left their rooms and followed him to the platform of the Council on the top level of the city. Walking up the steps, Rain felt her heart pounding with excitement and anxiety. She looked behind her to see Shea wearing a cloak she hadn’t seen him wear before. It was a green and gold Knight of Callaghan cloak with their insignia on the back: a lion behind a shield crossed with two swords.
“Whiskey,” she asked quietly, not wanting the messenger to overhear, “Why is Shea wearing a Knight of Callaghan cloak? Isn’t it better they don’t know who he really is, in case it upsets people?”
“We’re not here to hide who we are,” Whiskey said. “We have to show that we don’t have anything to hide. They’re going to have to accept that he’s a Knight, whether they like it or not. It’s not the time to be renewing old arguments. And when we’re in the chambers, call me Deaglan,” he winked.
She gave him a brief smile, but wondered what they were getting into.
When they made it to the platform, Rain immediately noticed a strange shimmery blur surrounding the table and chairs she’d seen the day before. She thought there were people in the chairs, but she couldn’t see or hear them.
“What’s going on?” Shea asked, and Rain was relieved she wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“You can’t hear or see anything because the Council platform is surrounded by a bubble of air that keeps the inside and outside separated. It was placed here with elemental magic, renewed with every Council session. They can’t hear or see us either. Security precaution.”
The messenger told them to wait for a moment, and walked toward the blur of people and chairs. It was like he stepped into a fog, because a moment later he was as blurry as everyone else around the table.
As they waited, she looked over Whiskey’s outfit. He had his salt-and-pepper hair combed back, and over his deep purple robes he wore a white stole embroidered in gold on both ends with a symbol of three interlocking circles. She thought she’d seen the symbol before but couldn’t quite remember where. It was strange to see him in such regal dress.
Whiskey had insisted that she wear her belt and dagger. It seemed to her that it would be rude to wear weapons to such a meeting, but Whiskey told her it wasn’t, that it was something everyone did. He told her she should always be prepared and able to defend herself, even here.
The messenger stepped out of the bubble of air and bowed to them. “You may enter.”