AFTER DELIVERING A SWIFT lesson to the team regarding Dark Elf honour, a notoriously thorny subject as convoluted as several jungles’ worth of vines snarled up by a hurricane, Princess Ashueli sent representation in the form of Yaarah the Golden Purrmaine Felidragon to Ahzmonyal, a junior soldier in Jhoranyal’s war band. He spoke to his superior, who notified his commanding officer, who had a private word with the Ula-Sali’karm, who did a round of rather fearsome marching up and down and waving his fists in different directions, before barking at his commanding officer, who chewed out his next in line, who vented his spleen at considerable volume upon the unfortunate, lowly soldier, who marched sharply back to Yaarah, delivered an even sharper salute, and informed him that the Ula-Sali’karm would indeed deign to meet with the personage he represented.
Forthwith.
Allory took in these theatrics with more than a touch of surprise. Elven honour was a great deal more complicated than she had imagined.
As was being the resident sparkle.
In the middle of the pretty glade where the Harpist, who had been suspiciously quiet all this time, had previously assaulted the royal rear end at not inconsiderable speed, a meeting approximately as stiff as the trunk of a petrified tree shortly took shape. The Dark Elves knelt upon the grass in regimented formation by order of seniority, with Jhoranyal at their head. The rather less organised and undeniably scruffier retinue of Her Royal Highness of Durhelm Castle seated themselves opposite. Having learned what her friends had been through since she had – well, departed her usual person and turned up in another guise – Allory was more than sympathetic, especially to Zzuriel who carried her body everywhere without a word of complaint.
Nothing weird about that at all.
Her Scintillant body really was dainty. Nice eyelashes, too.
One issue. She looked dead. Deader than dead, but clearly some part of her was not since the prime evidence was over here thinking about her body over there. I think, therefore I am … confused? Excellent philosophy.
Better not to think about the impact of a near-death – or perhaps actual-death – upon this person called Allory Fae. Too awkward and painful to go there just now.
Off she whizzed to sit down with the other Scintillants. Really sweet foursome. They reminded her of her own cocoon in some ways, but not painfully so. A greater oddity was not actually to be able to sit. Her sparkles refused to conform to the idea in her head, which made her think, once a troublemaker … Allory turned a magical beam upon the surrounding trees.
They perked up as if her merest glance had introduced unexpected fizz to their leaves and branches. Phew. Best friends with an entire magical forest? Life could get interesting.
I hope you don’t mind, lovely tree friends, but it is noon and it would be nice if we could bring these two sides together to share some sap. Please?
The Deepwoods guffawed.
A bit like an arboreal earthquake. Everyone glanced about in consternation, especially the Dark Elves who were probably remembering how they had been tossed out of the branches earlier. Hard to blame them. Yaarah bent a quelling look in her direction, whereupon Allory waved her motes delicately. The boughs lifted and rearranged themselves to provide shade to exactly one half of the meeting.
Oh, you rascals! You read my heart, didn’t you?
Right. A friendly forest with a wry sense of humour. Where exactly did this fit into Elven and Faerie legend?
Time to take her courage into both hands – not that the saying worked anymore. She shot over to the Dark Elf leader’s knee. This was as close as she dared. Glancing up at him, she offered her most demure smile and tinkled, “Would you like some shade too, Ula-Sali’karm Jhoranyal?”
His hawk-like eyes directed the fiercest of glares over at Ashueli.
She shrugged and said curtly, “Allory does no-one’s bidding. I am sorry. Treading all over protocol here. Please speak first, Ula-Sali’karm.”
He said, “Is she an Elemental Fae?”
Ash gestured gracefully. “You can ask her.”
“I believe I am,” she chimed in, not without a strong tremor of trepidation. “It is a long story, but the Wraith or one of his minions attacked me not long ago. I found myself in this unfamiliar form, which is very strange to me. The Harpist –” the Elf’s dark eyes flickered perceptibly “– drew me back by the power and skill of his playing.”
Jhoranyal turned his gaze to his left, bowing from the waist. In his well-modulated, startlingly deep tones, he said, “The Harpist? We have met in times past. His skill is rightly celebrated, but how comes he by musical magic that commands the Elemental realm?”
Commands? Ha! Allory tried to fold her arms and ended up becoming a less-defined blob of sparkles.
“I play an Astral Harp,” said the musician.
Yaarah turned his head too, his tufted ears pricking forward. “You’re an Argent Faerie?”
“I am,” said he. “My name is … Hansanori.”
Why the slight stumble? Allory frowned first at him and then at the Felidragon. Since no-one bothered to explain anything to the rustic girlfae from the deepest Russet Jungles, she somewhat petulantly caused the grass to tickle the Harpist’s toes – he jumped most pleasingly – before the Deepwoods decided that the Dark Elves could do with some shade, too.
They muttered and drew together.
Jhoranyal said courteously, “We are grateful, Allory Fae.”
His tone clearly communicated that he would be keeping on her good side. What a nice Elf. Now, if he would just make nice to Ashueli, she would not beat him about the nice pointy ears with tree branches all the way back to his nice home in … Allory cut off the thought with an effort. Suggids! The foliage above stilled its restless thrashing.
Ashueli threw her a pleading look.
Shrug. “I apologise,” Allory said meekly, which apparently meant nothing to anyone anymore, judging by the reactions around her. “I truly am the new Faeling around the cocoon when it comes to Elemental powers, Jhoranyal. I meant no affront.”
“Understood.” His already gravelly voice dipped even deeper as he addressed her in tones intended to carry, “We Ahlumviar also count certain Elemental manifestations amongst our greater family of tribes, as you’d describe them in your tongue. One such illustrious Elemental Warrior is called Barakunal. His name came to mind this afternoon as I battled and lost against the Princess Ashueli. I have not been beaten in any warrior discipline in many years – however, as amply demonstrated, her combat prowess hearkens to those skills of which the peerless Barakunal is an undoubted master. I fought him once. He beat me one-handed with his eyes closed. He moved like a zephyr, like smoke.”
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Ashueli could not withhold a gasp.
Clenching his right fist over his heart, he added, “Until today, I believed that his warrior forms were the most beautiful thing I had ever had the privilege to behold.”
Opposite, she observed the Princess’ eyes come alight in the cool shade beneath the boughs. Allory very nearly screamed, ‘Oh, my sap!’ For she realised that indirectly, Jhoranyal had just offered the Princess of Durhelm Keep several crucial pieces of information right out in public without officially admitting anything at all. Sneaky! One, he suspected that her father was this Barakunal. More than suspected. Why else relate this story? Two, he knew that Ashueli’s performance had moved beyond mere Elven skills to Elemental abilities. Three, he had just laid bare his heart and implied that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Cunning. Stunning. Bold as a shard of crystal!
Quite suddenly, she realised that she liked this Dark Elf. He had style.
With an apologetic gesture clearly designed to conceal her churning emotions, at least from those who could not read the bright colours exploding about her aura, Ashueli said, “I fear the match was unfairly weighted to my side. Jhoranyal, I had no foreknowledge of what I was capable of.”
“I know. That is why I pushed you so cruelly.”
“Cruelly? With respect, I disagree. It was necessary. Blade sharpens blade.”
His head bobbed in turn. “I have a question. What did this Elemental Fae say to you to help you achieve your breakthrough?”
The Princess ruminated upon this for a moment. “We have not known each other for long. Allory Fae was brought to me in a cage, purchased as a birthday gift by my father, Durc Durhelm. I freed her. She helped me to flee the castle – together, we also freed Sabline, the Sable Sabrefang warrior, from his dungeons. That may be one reason why I was so sensitive about feeling caged – in my case, contractually speaking – both for Allory’s sake and for mine.”
Now a circuitous apology? Allory shook her sparkles. This language of honour was so strange.
“Allory’s personality, as you may have noticed, is truly effervescent,” Ash continued. “She pours her whole heart into everything that she does, and her instincts about situations and people have proven accurate time after time. What she convinced me of was to believe in myself – that I could do the impossible and successfully rise to a formidable Dark Elf’s challenge. Why else would you have challenged me? It made no sense by any other logic. Thanks to her, for the first time in my life, I truly believed … in here.” Her fingertips touched her heart in a ritual gesture, three fingers outstretched and the thumb curled together with her smallest finger. “I cannot think of how better to express her gift.”
“The core of a warrior is heart,” he replied. “I beheld your transformation – indeed, the greatness of your revealed spirit was too much for me. That is why you prevailed.”
Ashueli bent forward from the waist until her forehead touched the grass. “Your words offer inexpressible honour to my sap, Ula-Sali’karm.”
His reply was a light pressing of his right hand to his heart, as if to underscore the truth of his statements. “Thank you for helping Princess Ashueli to seize her destiny, Allory Fae,” he added gravely. “Yours were the actions of a true and noble friend, whose courage shines as radiantly as her … being.”
A high compliment indeed, she realised, especially coming from an Elf of his station and background.
Trying to bow to thank him too, she lost track of half her being and found herself sitting upon his shoulder as she so often did with Ashueli. “Eep! I’m sorry.”
No way under Middlesun would she be accused of flirting with her best friend’s almost-husband.
Allory sprang away.
He merely chuckled, “So, this brings us to a small matter of fine print. You impugned my motives in purchasing your contract in the most unequivocal fashion, Princess, yet you now send representation to request the opportunity to redeem your honour? What is this, a grovelling apology? I believed such an action would be beneath you.”
Phew. A sap-fizzing verbal attack!
“Grovelling is, but needful apologies are not,” the Princess replied evenly. “I am not so proud as to fail to own my mistakes.”
“Nor am I,” he returned, just as urbanely.
One beautiful eyebrow arched to query his statement. As before, she waited for him to speak first, according to the difference in their respective stations which she had explained to her companions before.
“Allow me a brief explanation,” Jhoranyal offered, loosening his shoulders as if preparing to embark upon a race or a feat of physical strength. “My mistake was to assume a simple purchase might solve many problems. I should have inquired of your will in the matter before embarking upon this course of action, Princess Ashueli, but when I weighed the moment in the balance, I feared another might act more quickly or offer a greater price. I wished to secure your honour rather than see you subjugated in a loveless arrangement; yet to my chagrin, now I am led to understand that no Elf has the power to subjugate a peerless Elemental warrior to their bidding. In addition, I have been reminded by my senior warriors that it is customary among the Ahlumviar that when the Ula-Sali’karm is beaten in ritual combat, he should offer his position to the victor. I had the misfortune to misjudge my opponent. Now, I must face the consequences.”
Nor might her father have responded honestly to such an inquiry, Allory realised. He might even have drawn the correct inference regarding Zinueli had an offer arrived from the Dark Elves. Suggids! No easy way about this, was there?
Leaning forward, the giant Elf touched his long azure hair and then his forehead to the grass in front of him. “Princess, shall I proclaim your rightful ascension to the title of Ula-Sali’karm of the Ahlumviar?”
Squeak! A tiny crack of composure on the part of the Elven Princess, but a telling one.
Ashueli bit her lip.
Before she was able to formulate a response, one of his senior staff, a grizzled Dark Elf of deep sapphire colouration called Sali’karm Ghoyal, stood up and recited for her the titles and honours that traditionally accompanied this position – although, he also alluded to the fact that the leader of the Ahlumviar war host had never been a woman.
Those green eyes developed a brilliance which was not only magical but entirely untrustworthy, Allory decided. Tempted, wasn’t she?
Copying the bow to the ground, Ashueli addressed Jhoranyal in a remarkably steady voice, saying, “While you offer this position as the right of the victor, to my thinking, such an arrangement would not satisfy the true spirit of honour. To a Synshuviar, it was not a match conducted under fair conditions, as already discussed. We may disagree on the details, but for my part, I could not possibly accept such a distinguished position unless by fair rematch.”
Touching the hilt of his onyx sword, he said, “Do you therefore –”
“I reserve the right for another time.”
Dagger stares!
With a slight smile, the Princess continued to spar with the formidable Elf, “As for my purpose in requesting this meeting, o Jhoranyal, I wish you to hear my reasoning regarding this contract you signed. You need to understand its full import. Firstly, I do not understand how a Dark Elf could scribe his name to such an arrangement unless the object of this transaction was deemed to descend from a suitable bloodline. This implies knowledge I have never been party to. Upon my word of honour, I swear this to be the truth.”
She raised her right hand and spoke in formal Elven, making another gesture, far more complex than before. Beside her, Allory sensed Jhoranyal’s pulse flicker. Aha! He must have assumed she knew every detail of her parentage!
“Until this day, I believed my father to be Durc Durhelm and my mother, Zinueli Sylvanchild. To discover a different truth via this noble deed of an Ula-Sali’karm comes both as a deep shock and an honour that … defies my powers of description. My gratitude is as measureless as the Suylas Deepwoods, and my regard for this selfless act, unbounded.”
He watched her with hooded gaze.
“However, I would be remiss not to add a second point of clarification. That is, this contract is like a viper hidden behind a log. It is a cunning stratagem via which Durc Durhelm would seize the riches, honours and governance of your nation and extend his realm and dominion over you all!”
The Dark Elves leaped to their feet as one man, making the forest halls ring with their chorus of indignation. Allory found herself over by the Harpist, not knowing how she had come to be there.
Jhoranyal too leaped to his feet, only to silence his warriors with a stern gesticulation. “Explain! You –” despite that he shook visibly, he suddenly stilled the reaction, becoming as stolid as crystal “– how is this, Princess Ashueli? Sit. Let us speak as civilised individuals.”
Despite that his fury and humiliation could not be disguised, the giant Dark Elf knelt with perfect self-discipline. Inwardly, Allory observed, he was as taut as a bowstring.
The Princess said, “My associate, the excellent Scholar Felidragon Yaarah, shall explain.”
Not a few Dark Elf hands rested upon the hilts of their weapons, but not one showed so much as a sliver of metal.
The air of the glade thrummed with pent-up tension.
Moving forward, Yaarah signalled for their attention with an elegant twirl of his left wingtip and said, “It is a complicated legal matter, but I will demonstrate to you that this contract employs a mode of linguistic construction called the nested quintuple-negation logical falsification, couched and obfuscated in many paragraphs of dense legal text, which has the effect of trapping the signatory into the very opposite situation of what they intended. Attend whilst I explain.”