In the days long before the Wars, when the elves had yet to cross the realms, they lived as five peoples: those of the Sun, Moon, Stars, Sky, and Night. Each tribe served their respective creator, and empowered by his Luth, made his lands to prosper.
-Fennorin’s Guide to Elven History, First Ed. UE 2342
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FENNORIN
The tunnel at the back of Fenn’s basement wound at odd angles. He’d dug it himself, often making jagged turns when he ran into stone. Some sections required one to crouch in order to squeeze through. It ended in a small trapdoor. Fenn pulled it open. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves outside. Neck craned, he peered through the treeline that shielded them from view of his cabin.
Two Everguards stood on either side of his front door some twenty strides away, armor reflecting the light of the West Moon. He stepped out from the doorway into the forest, ducking behind some shrubbery. Mell moved gingerly behind him, one hand wrapped around his forearm, and slid the door closed without a sound. She placed each step as though every inch of the path was rigged with traps, no doubt nervous without her sight.
Fenn smiled in amusement at her care. There was no reason for the guards posted at his cabin to be looking for them. Not in the forest at an undocumented exit from his house. Still, it would benefit no one to be careless. He led her forward, crouched low. A songbird sang her song, crickets chirped, and the two stepped across the floor of rotted leaves. Small branches pulled at his tunic. He wished he’d done something to trim them and create a path.
“Did you hear something in the woods?” A masculine voice drifted from the cabin.
Fenn froze.
He could see the other guard squint toward the treeline. She leaned in toward the other guard, then gestured in Fenn’s direction.
Winter’s frost! The guards were alert. He needed a diversion. He glanced around, surrounded by trees, brush, and sticks.
“Stay here and watch the cabin. I’ll check it out.” The first guard trod swiftly down the slope, slowing at the trees.
Mell let go and ducked deep into some brush.
Fenn felt around on the ground for something. Anything. His hand brushed a small stone. It wouldn’t be much of a diversion, but it was his best bet. He faced an especially leafy bush down the slope. Gods, please, help us. Stone in hand, he cocked back his arm. If it would just tumble down the hill…
He pitched the stone. Pitched it straight into a low-hanging bow in front of him.
It slammed into the branch, bounced off, and flew straight back at him. He dodged in a scuffle of decayed leaves, the stone landing beside him with a solid thud. The guard rushed over and immediately spotted Fenn as he scrambled up.
“Halt! What’s going on here?” The elf unsheathed the small, graceful sword of the Everguard and brandished it toward Fenn.
“No!” Fenn squeaked, hands raised in his panic, “No need for a sword. It’s not what it looks like.” He stared down at the point. “I’m just running a quick errand. To get my notebook.”
The elf squinted and huffed his disbelief. “Then you could have asked one of us. Where’s the woman?”
Fenn hesitated, but Mell stepped in before he thought of a reply.
“Here, sir, looking for the notebook,” she arose from the shadows, her Circlet of Lorthen beginning to glow dimly between her brows. The guard stepped back, taking a defensive stance.
Mell smiled. “And now you will leave us alone and speak of this to no one. You will tell anyone who asks about us that we’re in the cabin.” A soft burst of divine energy came from the circlet and dissipated. The same light shimmered in the guard’s eyes for a moment, and he placed a hand to his head.
Fenn felt like he might choke on his own heartbeat. Please let the spell take.
The guard lowered his sword. “Right.” He sheathed it and walked away.
Despite the rush of relief, he kept his breath baited.
“What was it?” the other guard called as the first approached the cabin.
“There was nothing. Those two are definitely still in the cabin.” He resumed his post.
Fenn sighed. Thanks to Beauty. He waited for the crickets to take up their song before they moved on. “Thanks,” he breathed to Mell as he pulled her along in the darkness.
“I hope you know that consumes a lot of magic energy,” she hissed back. “And it won’t last forever.”
“As long as it lasts the night.”
Fenn took her silence as an affirmation that it would.
They crept along in silence, from the woods into the seemingly overgrown vineyards and disorganized orchards of Etnfrandia’s Greenriver Valley. They crossed from one orchard to another, marked only by the change in the shape of trees. Finally, Fenn stopped amongst low bows with wide-spreading branches and starry blossoms. Peach trees. This was where they would meet Syrdin.
They waited. The Western Wanderer chased the crescent West Moon into the horizon, casting shadows across the ground. Just as he began to worry he’d fumbled the directions he’d provided, Fenn saw a figure creeping in the trees. He squinted, tense. A wave of doubt ran through him before he recognized the small stranger’s hood. He pointed. Mell tensed and strained beside him, unable to discern anything in the dark. He’d hoped she could, a little.
“Glad to see you found us.” Fenn called out to the shadow.
“Of course,” Syrdin answered.
Mell breathed in relief. “Is that what you were pointing at? I thought the other guard followed us or something.”
He withered in shame, only now realizing how frightened Mell must have been. “No, glad to say it’s just our thief.”
“Right, so what’s the plan?” Syrdin drew closer, looking at Fenn.
Plan. That word had all the power of a noose as his throat slowly tightened. They expected him to have a full-fledged plan where he only had rough ideas. He was painfully aware of that now.
“Well, I was hoping you could help with that.”
Syrdin shifted zheir weight, displeasure coloring zheir words. “Then, what are we working with? City layouts? Schematics? A path in?”
If he had withered before, he shriveled now. “A backway I know, and a rather large building I can describe for you.” As half-formed as his thoughts were, it was time to transform them into a half-formed plan instead.
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MELLARK
Mell could tell by the feel of packed earth under her feet that they’d finally come out from the orchards to a main road. Starlight reflecting off Fenn’s bright hair kept her on track behind him. Thank the gods for that bizarre, elven hair. She would have been lost in the maze of moonshadows without it.
We must be near the city by now. It felt to her like half the night must have passed, and they still needed to retrieve Fenn’s soldier friend. Do we really have time? Mell searched the sky for the hour. It was hard to tell through the towering pines, but it seemed the Wanderer constellation hadn’t made a quarter of his trek. She shook her head. No more than an hour or two had passed since they’d left the cabin.
Fenn trotted now, making swift time toward the Southern Business Gate, or so Fenn had called it. He must be nervous. This gate entered the city's middle tier. Mell shivered with excitement. Their destination was near the back of the top tier. She would have seen much of the city if they could have entered it at the gate instead of traversing beneath. Or perhaps she wouldn’t have. If this road were any indication, elves didn’t seem to believe in lamp posts.
A small hand landed on Mell’s shoulder. She flinched, but it was only Syrdin. Zhe tugged Mell off the path. On the horizon, darkness blotted out the stars in a rising wall. The wall, Mell realized, to Ar-Etnfrandia..
“We’re about to walk into a creek,” Syrdin barely breathed the words, “watch your step and follow it upstream.”
Mell could just hear the trickle of water, barely a whisper. She looked around, but she had lost sight of Fenn in the shadow of the wall. Instead, she thought she saw a glint on the surface, a ripple running away from the city.
Mell waded in, lifting her robes. She took a sharp inhale, shocked at the cold on her sandaled feet, and caught a whiff of something like an autumnal wind, crisp and fresh. The water, she realized, has a smell. She trod carefully onward. The stone was smooth and slick beneath her, but once she waded toward the middle, sediment assured her footing. With each step, the ink wall rose higher in the sky until Mell had to crane her neck to see the top.
“Can you all swim?” Fenn whispered from somewhere on her right. Mell heard the soft rustling of leather as he removed his boots. Apparently, he hadn’t been in the water at all.
Mell snorted, a quiet puff. “Is this what you meant by a bath, earlier?” She got busy removing her gray outer robe. “Just how deep does it get?”
“Erm, about up to my middle. You should be fine, Mell. Syrdin,” he hesitated, “you may want to remove some layers.”
There was little chance of that. Mell didn’t know much about Syrdin’s upbringing or zheir escape from the dwarves, but she knew zhe had purple and gray skin, like polished stone, and stark white hair. A Night Elf, no doubt. Even Fenn seemed to suspect as much. Considering how much the two ethnicities hated one another, Syrdin would not risk revealing zhemself now.
“I’ll be fine. This isn’t my first dip in the water,” came Syrdin’s terse reply.
Mell heard more rustling of fabric. “Suit yourself, but you may want to stay close to me. It gets about as deep as you are tall when it pools.”
Mell listened for Syrdin in the water, but heard nothing. Then Fenn sloshed in. Mell sighed and stepped forward, praying she wouldn’t trip on anyone. In a few more steps, the wall seemed to swallow them up, and she was enveloped in deep darkness.
“Hey Fenn,” Mell’s voice echoed softly around her. It seemed they were in some kind of cave or tunnel. “What is this stream anyway? Obviously not sewage, but I’ve never seen clean water under a city before.” She twisted her lips into a wry smile, “Or in this case, smelled.”
Mell thought she heard Syrdin chuckle under zheir breath.
“Oh, no, this is spring water. It’s the main source of drinking water for the city, actually. It’s one of the only springs in the region. The rest of the water comes from the seaward rain.”
Mell was surprised to hear Syrdin speak up. “And your people haven’t dammed it?”
“Oh no, not more than it does naturally.” Fenn sounded chipper. “It’s considered disgraceful, near blasphemous even, to alter the natural course of a stream.”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Mell reflected on their journey. The orchards had felt like forests, with no neat rows like the orchards she knew. And any city in Hethbarn would’ve had a grate over the stream where it ran under the wall. In fact, much of the elf-kept region had a natural, rugged edge to it that made it seem almost uninhabited by outside standards. Certainly untamed.
They fell into an impenetrable quiet. Mell kept one hand on the water's surface, the other holding aloft her robe. It rose past her hips now, and she shivered. The night wasn’t exactly warm, and the springwater chilled her so goosebumps prickled her skin. Time seemed to melt away into the gentle lapping that echoed all around her.
Her reverie was broken when a loose stone caught on her sandal, sending her stumbling. She gasped as the cold lapped at her chest. A spindly hand closed around her wrist and pulled her upright. Fenn. She shuffled over and placed a hand blindly on Fenn’s back. “Thanks.”
The water level receded to Mell’s knees and the sound of trickling and drips joined the cacophony of echoes. The air hung as though suspended in time.
“Phosus.” Syrdin’s whisper danced about them. Suddenly, three bright, violet orbs appeared in the air. Mell’s breath caught. The eerie light threw long shadows across a large cavern with many stalagmites and pillars decorating it in a chaotic maze of architecture. Her tension melted into a dazzled awe. The wet stone sparkled in the unnatural light, augmenting the gruesome beauty of the place.
“Thanks Syd,” Mell whispered.
She waded after Fenn toward the soft rush of a waterfall, taking in the everchanging cavern views. The shadows of the stalagmites seemed to dance as they passed, warping into the forms of people.
People. Mell stopped in her tracks, blinking. She caught Fenn by the elbow, tugging him back. She pointed to where, half-hidden amongst the natural formations, chiseled forms of elves danced and played in the stone. Here, a she-elf posed in an arabesque. There, an elfman played the flute encircled by two foxes in a game of chase. Another figure was seated on a stalagmite reading a book to elflings. Mell gasped in recognition. “Kialmara!” She splashed over to it.
What?” Fenn trailed after her.
“It’s Kialmara Lorthen!” Mell repeated, forsaking the quiet they had kept. This was too important a discovery: pure, Elven renderings of the pantheon. “I knew he was a Faerie god, but I thought you said your people didn’t worship them anymore.”
Fenn’s brow creased over his glasses. “They don’t. They’re nearly forgotten.” He stepped forward to inspect the statue.
“And look!” Mell pointed to another stone elf a few strides away with a headpiece much like her own, but with a round emblem overlaid with vertical lines of varying lengths. “That one wears a Circlet of the Sun.” The wearer had curly hair and a young, almost boyish face. The version that the modern Sun Order worshiped had large, chiseled, human-like features and longer hair. This curly-headed youth must be the original one, unmarred by the clash of cultures.
“These statues, these are the gods?” Fenn barely breathed the question as he leaned in to view Lorthen up close. “Cialmyra and Anruwan? I had no idea these were more than simple statues. I assumed it was someone’s secret practice space.” Drops of water filled the awed silence.
“Someone’s secret, all right.” Mell’s mind spun with possibilities. Clearly these people had once remembered their gods. But this was underground. Literally. There could have been secret worshippers, an offshoot cult. Or perhaps a single individual could have sculpted this in the city’s early years. Either way, it meant that the gods had once meant something to the Etnfrandians, just as Fenn had hoped.
“I, and other Etnfrandians, we explore down here as youths.” Fenn’s brows were scrunched and his lips pressed one another in thought. “And yet I never knew.”
Mell traced her finger across Kialmara’s book, looking for any detail, any sign as to what he was teaching. If Fenn had seen these statues as a youth, they were no less than two-hundred years old. She was no archaeologist, but they could be as old as one thousand. Their features were certainly worn smooth, and some nearer the water were partially melting away.
Syrdin cleared zheir throat. “As interesting as it all is, I suggest we keep moving. Unless we want to run out of night before we’ve made it back here.”
“Right!” Fenn stood upright and adjusted his tunic, as though that would help him focus. “Let’s keep moving.”
The group splashed on, Mell still pondering the statues. They passed a handful more, but she couldn’t recognize them: an armored she-elf, a scribe with a scroll–a mustache carved out of her face. Mell frowned at the poor treatment of the sculpture. Probably the work of the youths Fenn had mentioned. They came before long upon the waterfall. It was a good thirty-feet tall, broken by slopes and shelves.
“Here we are! The Fountain of Youth! Not much farther from here.” Fenn prepared to climb.
“The Fountain of Youth?” Mell’s lips twisted with mirth. “So, I can expect to live forever after I climb this, right?” They all knew the legendary Fountain was hidden in the Heavenly Realm, but the name was the same. She couldn’t resist.
Syrdin snorted.
Fenn flushed. “Erm, a poor translation. I suppose I meant Adolescent’s Waterfall, or something along those lines. Reas te h’oyge.”
Mell smiled. It did translate literally to fountain of adolescents. Youths’ fountain. Considering what Fenn had told them about protecting natural formations, the Etnfrandians probably had no use for different words for waterfall and fountain. Modern Elvish did have one.
Mell let her thoughts fade as Fenn started up the waterfall. He hopped up a rock, but slipped on the second shelf and came tumbling down to the bottom. He landed on his back with his arms up, his satchel raised just out of the pooled water.
Mell’s crackling laughter echoed across the cavern. “Very elegant, Mr. Elf.” She stretched out a hand to help him up. “I guess this means you weren’t one of the adolescents the waterfall was named for?”
Fenn flushed even more purple in the violet glow of Syrdin’s orbs. He grasped Mell’s hand and hopped to his feet. “I preferred to go sketching in the Valley.” He wiped droplets off his glasses and went to start again. Syrdin cut him off, a silent acrobat leaping deftly from shelf to slope until zhe landed with a quiet sploop at the top of the waterfall. Zhe stared down pointedly.
Fenn righted himself and copied zher movement perfectly, his long body easily reaching the same secure jumps zhe had demonstrated for him. No splash at the end. He landed outside the pool above.
Mell sighed in annoyance. “Very pretty performance, oh dainty elves,” She huffed as she clambered up the fall, hauling her heavy-set frame from shelf to shelf. Sure, it left her a bit out of breath, but that wasn’t too bad for a middle-aged human.
Another cavern awaited them at the top. The ceiling there loomed lower overhead and the walls narrowed. They waded onward for what must’ve been a dozen city blocks, winding around confusing paths until Mell was completely turned around. Then they turned off into a tunnel that led up through the wall. Mell could see why they didn’t bother to secure this route into Ar-Etnfrandia. Only someone who knew the way could navigate this cavern system and come out atop the city. It would be much easier to get lost. Not to mention this was far inside the magical barrier that protected the region.
The rough stone smoothed into a triangular shape and the echoes narrowed with it. Syrdin let zheir lights fade as they started up a spiral staircase at the end. Lanterns were spaced around the place, glowing warmly against hewn stones. Fresh night air beckoned out a window. Fenn stopped on a landing in front of a large pine door and grabbed his boots out of his satchel. Mell felt her breath turn shallow. She spared half a thought for where the ascending stairway led as she pulled her robe back on. The City of Ar-Etnfrandia. She fidgeted with her belt tassels, her fingers clumsy with excitement. And it has lanterns.
“Hoods up, you two,” Fenn instructed, “and pretend you are supposed to be here.”
With that, he opened the door.
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SYRDIN
The City of Etnfrandia lay before them. Syrdin’s eyes darted around, scanning for danger with practiced scrutiny. At the highest point of the city, on their left, a grand entrance had been carved out of the mountain. Its asymmetrical design might have blended with the natural rockface if it weren’t for images of trees, flowers, and creatures carved in it. Along the edge of a cavernous archway, a stone antelope was depicted at various stages of ascent, poised as though bounding in graceful leaps.
Syrdin did a double-take of a stone sentinel of the Everguard standing in front of the archway, details so accurate that it could have been a soldier turned to stone. The smooth natural rock at his feet rolled into a huge cobbled terrace cracked with trees and flowers. Streetlights in the shape of trees cast silver light across this upper courtyard. Buildings, tall and uneven, protruded like rocky outcroppings made elegant with vines, moss, and crystalline windows. The few guards who stood posted atop the walls seemed to pay no mind to the three of them.
“Beautiful,” Mell breathed beside zhem.
Arsdark take me if these Everguards haven’t become overly comfortable. Zhe scanned for a sign that any of them were truly alert. Zhe found none.
“This way.” Fenn beckoned to them from a few feet toward the right. “We’re going there.” He pointed to a large structure of half stone, half a slanting slab of crystal and marble. It sat near the edge of the courtyard, placed partially behind another building. Its entrance sat in plain view of both the wall and the terrace. Very little cover at its main entrance. In case of emergency, best to vacate from the rear.
Fenn strode forward at a steady, businesslike pace, acting as though this whole night escapade were routine. The faint twitch of his hands, his thumbs rubbing his fingers, gave away the truth; he was riddled with anxiety.
Syrdin fell into step behind Mell. Her gaze was fixed on the opposite side of the courtyard where a group of elves stood talking and laughing around a firepit. One of them struck up a lyrical ditty, and two more started dancing together. The easy flow of it seemed to invite others to join in with a too-powerful draw. It was as if they rode the border of an enchantment, fingers reaching toward a magic that, unbeknownst to them, was readily available if they would only grasp it.
And Fenn claims these elves know no magic. They aren’t so different from us.
Mell took a step in that direction before turning away. Syrdin half-smiled. Zhe could only imagine the uproar it would cause if zhe and Mell threw off their hoods and joined in.
As they neared their destination, Fenn slowed. “Syrdin,” he said, “once we go in, I need you to scout around and find out if anyone is left in the building and their whereabouts. Let us know if there are any guards present. The items we desire are displayed on the main floor, where anyone passing through can see. We will wait in the main hall by the White Willow until you report.”
Syrdin gritted zher teeth. Zhe wasn’t impressed with Fenn’s leadership so far. He’d had no plan in the beginning. Their current, rough plan involved the same route for their entry and exit—a poor choice—and now he was relying on zhem, who knew nothing of this place, to scout around.
Fenn turned to Mell. “You can divine whether there are traps, right?”
“Yes. Are you expecting there to be traps?” Mell seemed surprised. Perhaps because they supposedly don’t use magic.
“My father is curator of the building.” Fenn scratched the nape of his neck and grimaced as an apology. “He’s been known to be careful beyond reason.”
Mell’s expression twisted into a smile. “Well, today we are making him careful within reason.”
Fenn bit his lip. “Let’s hope he doesn’t find that out.”
Great. Zhe’d be marching straight into unknown territory with suspected traps of unknown nature. Potentially magical. Syrdin hoped Fenn had at least a mental contingency plan, because their odds of sneaking up on a sleeping Ink Bat were better. And those things could literally hear for miles.
Zhe stepped up front as they approached the building. Deep in the shadows next to the door, a figure moved, armor catching a shred of light. “Fenn, there’s a guard at the front door in the shadows.”
Fenn squinted. “So there is. Follow me.”
Syrdin trod behind him as he overshot the front door and passed around another structure covered in vines. They circled back and arrived at the rear door. Fenn pulled the long handle. It didn’t budge. Locked.
“Strange,” he muttered, “it’s like they expected something tonight.”
Really not looking good. “Perhaps they got word that there’s an outsider here.” Syrdin stepped up to the door. Zhe leaned in toward the keyhole and traced it with zheir finger. By the shape, its key would be long and narrow, with many branches curving in all directions. Very elven. Very difficult to pick. Syrdin reached into the recesses of zheir garb and pulled out a lock pick and pressed the tool into the lock.
Couldn’t Fenn just let us in?
The pick wouldn’t take like this, but zhe might learn the shape. Zhe’d have to deform it to fit the keyhole. After some prodding, zhe pulled out the tool and bent and twisted it til zhe was satisfied. This time, zheir jiggling rendered several clicks. Syrdin tried the door. Still locked.
Syrdin looked at Fenn, zheir tone flat. “It might save time if you go in the front and let us in. This could take me a while.”
Mell flinched. It seemed she had thought the same, but hadn’t said anything. Fenn looked at his boots and shifted his weight, embarrassed.
“You are allowed in, right?” Syrdin prompted, frustration leaking into zheir tone. No point in saving his feelings. Zhe was more concerned with saving the job.
“I hadn’t considered splitting up,” he said at last. “ But it’s a good idea. I’ll be right there.” He disappeared around the corner.
Syrdin kept alert. This building was on the outermost part of the upper circle and they could see the city wall some thirty paces away. Struggling pines broke the path between them and the wall. No one passed by. No guard paced that wall's top. Perhaps this job isn’t so dangerous. The wind rustled the branches. Mell’s breath came in shallow gasps. Her eyes were fixed on a tree at the base of the wall. She’s scared, Syrdin realized.
“There’s no one within line of sight.” Syrdin placed a hand on her shoulder as zhe spoke. “You can relax.”
“Right.” Mell straightened and wrapped her robe tighter, creating wet spots on her hips where the water bled through. A groaning creak told them the door unlocked. It pushed outward toward them. It was not Fenn who stood before them, but a young she-elf with brown hair and tan skin. “Hello,” she practically sang the words, “you must be Syrdin and Mellark. I’m Galendria.”
Syrdin ground zheir teeth and reached for a dagger. The night had taken a dangerous turn after all.