Davidor’s four children left town through the East Gate and walked along the dusty road. Titch ran ahead. He disappeared into shrubs and thickets, leaping out with a small rodent or bird in his hand, which he released before disappearing again.

Fen shifted the sack from one shoulder to the other. “I don’t know why we have to resupply now. They’ll have plenty to eat in The Vale, won’t they?”

“Dad won’t eat their food,” said Gart.

“Why not? It’s not like they can poison him.”

Their father had saved the world from the Demon God—an immense black dragon—and in the process had become Undeniable, a rare magical condition that made him impervious to harm. Not only poison, but stabbing, burning, drowning, had no effect on him.

“It’s not that. He doesn’t like the taste. That’s why he never lets Mother cook.” Gart looked over his shoulder. Behind them, Igail followed while reading a book, oblivious to the world around her but still somehow managing to keep track of where she was going. He frowned and shook his head.

“Do you remember much about The Vale?” asked Fen.

“I remember everything,” said Gart.

“Do you? I can hardly remember any of it. I do recall a lot of pretty elf girls, though.”

“You’re imagining it. You never met any girls.”

“I must have. When we played with the other kids.”

Gart glanced over at his brother. “We never played with other kids. We weren’t allowed.”

“Why would Mother not want—”

“She wouldn’t. Wasn’t her decision.”

Up ahead, a small fire indicated the site of their camp. Titch arrived first and immediately launched into recounting his recent exploits, most of which had only occurred in his imagination.

Davidor sat near the fire with his back against a saddle. His shirt was open to the navel and his long, brown hair hung loose. Roona lay with her head on his lap, asleep.

Fen let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you think they did it right by the side of the road?”

“Yep,” said Gart.

“Ah, there you are,” said Davidor as the two boys approached. “I was just about to send out a search party.”

“We’d have been quicker if you’d let us take the horses.” Gart dropped the sack at his father’s feet.

“They need their rest. Long journey ahead of us.”

Fen placed his sack next to the first. “Some people might think you care more about horses than your own kids.”

“Depends on the horse,” said Davidor. He sat up, rousing Roona in the process.

“Oh, you’re back!” She hurried to her feet and hugged each son in turn.

Igail wandered into camp, ignoring her mother’s outstretched arms. She closed the book and put it in her bag. “Shouldn’t we get ready?”

Roona took her daughter by the shoulders and forcefully pulled her into an embrace. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, Mother. It’s not that big a deal.”

“As long as you’re happy,” said Gart. “Even if no one else wants to go back there.”

“When Dad said I could have whatever I wanted for my birthday, I don’t remember him saying you had to want it, too.” She ended with a sneer, the way only a thirteen year old girl could.

Gart stepped up to her. “Been a while since we sparred. Want to go a couple of rounds?”

She retreated a step but kept the scowl in place.

Roona grabbed the back of Gart’s collar and yanked him away. “Stop bullying your sister.”

Gart turned away to check the pot hanging over the fire, mumbling, “Somebody has to.”

As night set in, the two moons rose from opposite ends of the sky. They climbed to a zenith, one sitting on top of the other.

The party of six, led by Gart on his grey mare, rode through an empty field down to the lake. The Moonlight Bridge waited for them, stretching out into the middle of the water. The hooves made muted clip-clops against the chalky, white stone as they crossed the bridge towards the shimmering archway.

Gart stopped a few metres from the arch and dismounted. The others came to a halt behind him, waiting to see why. He took a package tied to the back of his saddle and unwrapped it, revealing his bow. He strung it, tested the string with a few twangs, and then pulled it over his head. He took a quiver of arrows hanging from his saddle and attached it to his belt. Then he  drew his sword, grabbed an oily rag from his boot, and wiped the blade a couple of times before resheathing it.

“Are you expecting a fight, son?” asked Davidor.

“Always,” replied Gart, before remounting.

“They’re your people, too,” said Roona.

“They aren’t my people,” said Gart. “They’re just my relatives.” He clucked for his horse to start moving and passed through the archway into The Vale.

***

“I hadn’t expected you back so soon,” said Queen Lyr, thirteen years not being a very long time in Elven terms. “I see you’ve been busy.”

“Granny! Granny! Look at me!”

Queen Lyr turned, her red gown swirling about her, and looked up the wall. She stood in the middle of the Assembly, the large meeting chamber of the Elven people. Behind her were the three Seats of Power, thrones carved from the rock, their backs rising to the high ceiling and merging with the wall. Halfway up the back of the middle seat, Titch clung to tiny fissures in the wall by his fingertips.

“Very good, dear.” She returned her attention to Roona, who stood with Davidor on one side and the children on the other. “Does he have to do that on the Seat of Power? It’s somewhat disrespectful.”

“There are no climbers in my family.” Davidor spread his arms wide. “He must get it from your side.”

“Of course,” said Roona. “Because the Elven are well known for their ability to scale walls like spiders, aren’t they?”

“Possibly,” said Davidor. “Your bunch are so secretive, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Please,” said Queen Lyr. “Did you come here just to squabble?”

Igail stepped forward. “Grandmother, we are here because of me. My mother has told me about the Great Library and the wonders it contains. I wanted to see it for myself, if only once. Will you grant me permission to enter the library?”

The Queen looked Igail over and smiled. “At least one of your offspring is a little cultured. If anyone takes after our side, it’s her. Come, child.”

She led them through a tunnel lit by glowing veins in the walls. Davidor and family followed—Titch having been prised off the wall—and six fully armoured Elven soldiers brought up the rear.

“This place you’re taking us to, dangerous, is it?” asked Davidor.

“No,” said the Queen. “Why do you ask?”

“The armed escort. Seems a bit extreme for a trip to the library.”

“They are my personal guard. For all I know, you may have come to fulfill your promise and take my life.”

“Mother!” said Roona. “Don’t be so ridiculous.”

“No,” said Davidor, “she’s right. It’s possible. Although, I have no idea what her suicide squad would do about it.”

The soldiers stamped the ground a little harder as they marched in perfect unison.

They entered a vestibule, the end of which opened into a large cavern lined with rows after row of shelves, each stuffed to overflowing with books. More books lay in piles on the floor, stacked to waist height or higher.

It was an awe-inspiring sight, shelves that receded into the distance, disappearing into shadow where they might extend into eternity.

Igail stepped forward, mouth open. “How can there be so many?”

A small, plump Elven woman appeared from a side room. She bowed before the Queen.

“Sylvie, this is my… grandaughter. She wishes to see the Great Library. Will you give her a tour?”

The woman glanced over at Igail and reacted with shock. “Oh, she’s a—I mean, yes, of course. Follow me.” She turned and headed off towards the shelves, picking up a lantern on the way.

Igail hurried after her. The others remained where they stood.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“You don’t wish to see one of the great marvels of this world?” the Queen asked them.

“I’ll pass,” said Davidor.

“I’ve seen it,” said Roona.

“Boring,” said Titch.

Fen smiled and shrugged, while Gart glowered at the soldiers.

“Very well,” said the Queen. “You can wait in here.”

She led them to the room the librarian had come from. Inside was a large wooden table with chairs on all sides.

“I can have some food brought to you.”

“No need,” said Davidor. “I came prepared.” He upturned the sack in his hand and emptied the foodstuffs it contained onto the pristine tabletop. “Who fancies a sandwich?”

***

Two hours later, Igail returned, her face downcast, tears welling in her eyes.

Fen and Titch both slept with their heads on the table. Gart sharpened his sword with a small stone. Davidor dozed in a chair.

“What’s wrong?” said Roona as soon as she saw Igail.

Igail turned to the librarian standing beside her. “Could you send a message to the Queen, asking her to come here?”

“Of course,” said the librarian, quickly exiting.

Roona rushed over and put her arms around Igail. “Sweetheart, what is it?”

“It’s so big,” said Igail with a sob. “It’s just so big.”

The Queen arrived shortly, flanked by her personal guard. The others had woken, more or less, and gathered around the embracing mother and daughter, unsure what was going on.

“I’m not used to being summoned, but I assume you are ready to leave.” The Queen had changed into an even more elaborate outfit of white and gold.

Igail let go of her mother. “No. I’ve decided to stay.”

“What?” The Queen looked from Roona to Davidor, but both had been rendered speechless. “For how long?”

“Until the next full moons. I never thought the library would be so huge, I need more time to explore it. The law states you need a blessing from an Elder to leave, but anyone who crosses the bridge can stay as long as they want. Isn’t that right?”

The Queen wrung her hands together. “But I’m sure your parents…” She looked to Roona who snapped out of her daze.

“Igail, what are you saying? You can’t stay here.”

“Why not? When Gart was my age, you left him alone in the mountains for a month.”

“Yes, for a month. And we were only a few hours away. If you stay, you’ll be out of reach for a year!”

“You’re Elven, Mother. What’s a year? I want to do this. There’s so much I can learn here.”

Roona’s face turned from concerned to resolute. “Then, we’ll all stay.”

“No, we won’t!” said Davidor.

“Then I’ll stay,” said Roona.

Davidor took Roona by the arm and pulled her towards him. “I know how you feel, but she isn’t a child and she won’t come to any harm here. She wants to spend a year reading books.”

“No. I won’t leave her.”

“Roona, listen to me. Keeping them safe under your wing means they’ll never learn to fly. She wants to do this for some reason. I can’t say I fully understand it, but I have faith in her judgement. If she says it’s what she wants, then let her.”

There was a time when Roona knew no fear. She risked death on a daily basis without the slightest concern for herself or those around her. But having children changed all that. She looked from Davidor to Igail and back again. “Why did you have to make me a mother. It’s nothing but agony.”

The Queen smiled. “Oh, Roona, finally I think you understand what it is to have a daughter. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine, I give you my word.”

***

Igail stood in the chambers that had once belonged to her mother. Her possessions lay on the large bed that took up most of the room. Some clothes, a few bags, her weapons. This would be her home for the next year. The others were preparing to leave. Once she saw them off, she would be on her own for the first time in her life.

She turned around to find Gart standing in the doorway, holding a bunch of books. “What do you think you’re playing at?”

“I’m not playing.” Igail knew her brother didn’t approve of what she was doing. He had spent the first six years of his life in The Vale. He rarely spoke about it, and when he did, it wasn’t fondly. But that was his problem, not hers. “I need to do this, that’s all.”

Gart tossed the books on the bed. “I don’t know what fanciful ideas you’ve got from reading your books, but the Elven aren’t what you think. They’re cruel and selfish and they only look out for their own. And they don’t see you as one of them.”

The books were all children’s stories and fairy tales. Igail hadn’t read them since she was little. She had forgotten she even owned them. “I don’t care about the Elven. They don’t interest me. But they have knowledge, a lot of it, and I intend to take it from them. How they feel about me is irrelevant.”

“You think it will be that easy, living among them? Me and Fen grew up here. Trust me, you—”

“Ahem. Excuse me.” An elf stood in the doorway. “The Queen awaits you at the entrance to the bridge. I was sent to fetch you.”

“Fine,” said Gart. “Wait outside, we’ll be a moment.”

“But the Queen is wai—”

Gart turned to him and spoke in Elven. Igail could understand what he said as she had been taught by her mother, but this was a dialect she had never heard before, harsher and more direct. Yet, from the elf’s reaction, she had little doubt what it was.

The elf stared at Gart, his face blanched to an even paler white. “Yes, my Lord. I will wait outside.” He bowed and backed out of the room.

“How do you know the royal tongue?” Igail asked Gart.

“I am Elven first born of the royal blood, of course I know the royal tongue. That’s how this world operates, those who are deemed worthy and those who aren’t. Nobody earns their position, and nobody gets what they deserve, good or bad. Iggy, don’t be seduced by their pretty dresses and thousands of years of tradition. It’s all bullshit.”

“I know that. I’m here for my own reasons.”

“Good. Because when we come back in a year’s time, I’m taking you out of here if I have to drag you out by the hair.”

Igail had no intention of staying any longer than she had to, but her brother’s overbearing attitude annoyed her no end.

“And what if I find myself a nice Elven prince and get married in the meantime?”

“Then you’ll be leaving a widow.” Gart turned and walked out of the room.

They followed the still shaken elf back to the main hall where Queen Lyr waited with the rest of the family. Gart ignored everyone and mounted his horse, more than ready to leave. Igail embraced Fen and then Titch, who resisted, but not too much.

“Don’t let them bully you,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” said Fen. “We’ll go easy on him.”

Titch scowled at his brother. “I think she was talking to you.”

Igail hugged her mother, who seemed like she wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out. Then she hugged her father and whispered something in his ear that made him laugh.

“You can count on me,” he said after releasing her.

They all climbed into their saddles and set off down the tunnel. With a final look back over her shoulder, Roona Set Neer, First Warrior of the Elven Horde, the legendary Elf Without Mercy, stifled a sob and passed through the archway.

Outside, the moons had begun their descent and the bridge appeared a great deal less substantial than it had. Fortunately, it still bore their weight as they crossed back to the world of humans. Roona rode alongside Davidor, who whistled merrily.

“What did she whisper in your ear?” she asked him.

Davidor smiled. “She said, ‘Don’t forget to come back for me.’”

They stepped off the bridge and turned to see it fade away.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” said Davidor. “If anything happens to that girl, I’ll kill every last one of them.”

Roona said nothing, but in her heart she knew what he said wasn’t true. Because if anything happened to her daughter, she would kill them all herself.