It was as lovely a dinner as she could manage. Her cook had managed to scrounge up a few leftover potatoes from somewhere, carrots they had scavenged from the Gemlirian village, accompanied by some fish from the sea. It was decidedly lacking according to her standards, Aphora admitted, but it was the best she could do until the first of the crops were ready for harvest.
She scrutinized Tesha-Istana as they talked, her wit and charm mere covers for her true purpose.
It had been several weeks since they opened the door to Arallû. Every moment spent on the surface was a danger to her elves, and even the Fey, if the Gemlirian villagers succeeded in gathering support from the lords to the west. But, even with the door open, they had to scout the area first before bringing the noncombatants through.
Aphora wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she first passed through the emerald door. She had heard the stories about the Children’s magnificent realms beneath the surface but had always thought them to be a bit exaggerated, more fairy tales than truth.
Arallû, however, simultaneously exceeded and undershot her expectations. It took several miles of winding through narrow tunnels before they finally reached the city, but when they did, she was forced to question if they were really still in the same realm, or if they had somehow crossed over into another dimension. An immense cavern stretched above them, the roof so high that it would have been plunged into utter darkness if not for the swirling strands of glowing gems that covered its surface.
While not as bright as the world above, the cavern was surprisingly well-lit, allowing her to see a strange violet-colored sea, whose bio-luminescent waves gently tossed against the abandoned docks of the city.
The former opulence of the city was plain to see. Marble, gold, and silver met her sight at every turn, and most of the homes were topped by shallow domes crafted from an unfamiliar purple crystal that emitted a gentle light. Salt from the sea?
But there was no denying the grim state of the city. From her conversations with the Fey leaders - most of all Tesha - she had been led to believe that the city was merely abandoned after the rise of the Gemlirian empire, which had made communications with their homeland difficult. That was clearly not the truth.
Signs of battle were everywhere. Giant boulders still lodged in the walls of buildings, streets scorched by fire and ash, and, of course, the corpses. Many of them were still clad in armor, their weapons in the dirt beside them. The bodies of the Children of St. Martin were in surprisingly good condition, preserved, perhaps, by the salty winds that blew off the strange underground sea.
It was obvious that the city had been destroyed in battle but, much to her annoyance, the Fey had stubbornly refused to admit it, sticking to the same old story that they had originally told her, which was why they were having this dinner. She had known from the start that their attempt to build a settlement deep in the heart of Gemliria would be fraught with danger, but dangers could be planned for. It was impossible, however, to prepare for a danger one didn’t even know existed. It didn't matter if the Fey wanted to share the truth about the city’s past; for the sake of her people, Aphora needed to know what they were keeping from her.
She shook herself alert, laughing graciously at the anecdote Tesha had just shared, only allowing her eyes to creep for a second over to the clock. It had only been an hour. She needed to give her man more time to search the Fey leader’s quarters.
“So how are the crops growing? Does the salt from the sea interfere with their growth?”
As expected, Tesha’s eyes grew wide with interest. The Children were very fond of their plants. Aphora zoned out as Tesha babbled on, already knowing the answer. To her surprise, the crops were growing exceptionally well. The unfamiliar salt, far from being an obstacle to growth, appeared to nurture the plants, whose growth was already weeks ahead of schedule. It was a good thing, too. While they were in no danger of running out of food, few enjoyed the dried rations passed out daily. Fresh food would be a massive morale booster.
But her dinner party was interrupted when an envoy stumbled into the room. One of her own, the elf was almost dripping in sweat as he bowed before her. “Lady Aphora. The door is knocking,” he gasped out.
She frowned. “The door? What door?”
Her envoy didn’t get the chance to speak as Tesha bolted up, spilling the contents of her plate across the table, as she leaned over the envoy, her eyes burning with intensity. “Describe the knocking.”
He faltered, and she grabbed his chin with her hand, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Tell me. Now.” The last word resonated in the air, a hint of compulsion in her tongue.
Aphora rose, unhappy that the Fey had resorted to mind magic, but the envoy begin to babble. “I don’t know. It’s just knocking. Three taps, then it stops. Three taps, then it stops.”
Tesha relaxed, a hint of a blush creeping up her cheeks as she avoided Aphora’s eyes. “Good, good. Still, we should go and check it out.”
The envoy stumbled as she released her grip, his cheeks suddenly turned pale and ashen. With a sigh, Aphora summoned a servant. “Take care of him while I’m gone.” Her eyes fell on the table and its meager feast. “Let him have some of the food, too.” Someone might as well enjoy this "feast."
The Fey had bolted immediately, rushing out to the stables where her steed stood waiting. Aphora followed behind, reluctance and curiosity waging a war within her as she saddled her own mount. A few minutes later, they rode out the gates of the ruined estate she had taken residence in, heading down the street that led back towards the tunnels and the emerald door.
“So, do you want to me tell what that was about? Why you were so upset about something knocking on the door?”
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“No.” Tesha responded flatly, refusing to expand any further.
Aphora decided to let it drop. Somehow, she had a feeling that whatever knocking the Children had feared was connected to the city’s destruction. At least this distraction would help Mullu-Lim’s mission; judging from Tesha's panicked reaction, she needed to learn what secrets the Fey were keeping from her.
Once they reached the tunnels, the pair was forced to dismount and trek the last few miles on a foot. The miles flew by quickly as the two possessed nearly boundless endurance, and they soon found themselves standing before the door.
It shimmered softly, a hazy, emerald fog roiling a few feet across the floor. The guard stationed there, just in case - or so Aphora had thought - gave them a friendly nod as they approached, and then they waited. The silence extended for several minutes, and then the knocking came. It was just as the envoy had said, three simple raps. But he had failed to mention the blossom of deep violet ripples that spread across the door with each knock.
Aphora frowned, concerned by the dark color of the light, but the Fey actually relaxed. “Thank Tsiāhu,” she muttered.
Aphora cocked an eyebrow at her. “I take it you know what is happening? Do you plan to share this knowledge?”
The Child of St. Martin ignored her barb, nodding her head vigorously. “Aye, I know what’s happening. A god is trying to get our attention. Or more accurately,” she amended herself, “a goddess.”
The Fey turned to the guard, pressing a token into his hand. “Please, take this back to the city and tell Adappa to bring me the scrying bowl.” The guard disappeared down the tunnel, leaving the two of them alone.
I hope he’s not going back to her home, Aphora thought, worried about Mullu-Lim. She decided to probe further. “So, what is the knocking?”
Tesha frowned, clearly debating whether or not to explain, but she decided to share. “We are not truly beneath the plains of Gemliria. The door is a portal to another realm, the one in which all the Children's cities are built. No one truly knows where it is, if the great caverns and glowing sea are buried somewhere deep, deep within the world’s interior, or if we have breached into some other universe, but no one can enter our realms without our permission.”
Her eyes slid away as she said the words and Aphora knew they were not true, at least not entirely. The Fey, in her experience, did not lie, but what was technically true was often functionally a lie.
“So the knocking is?”
“Someone who has the strength to pound on the doors of our realm. Judging from the purple of the void, I would guess it is the Lady of Last Light.”
Aphora frowned, not immediately recognizing the title. “Do you mean Kas̆dael?” she finally asked.
Tesha shrugged. “Perhaps? The Children worship few of the elven gods, but I believe she is known to your kind.”
An hour passed before the guard returned, accompanied by a small squadron of soldiers. Aphora watched as the Fey leader arranged the items before the door. A large silver bowl was filled with a pitcher fresh from the purple sea and placed in the center of a chalk rune. Unlike her own rituals, no blood was involved. Instead, the Fey smeared an unfamiliar cream beneath her eyes. Her tears flowed freely into the bowl, steam rising as they hit the surface.
Slowly the surface bubbled, clouds of vapor rising as more tears fell into the bowl, until Tesha leaned back. The water calmed immediately, the surface as smooth as a mirror as the face of a goddess appeared.
A black veil hung over her blue, glowing eyes, giving off a mysterious, almost sinister air, but the illusion was popped as soon as she spoke, the annoyance coming through quite clearly. “Finally. I’ve been knocking for hours. Clearly your elders did not teach you how to greet a deity.”
Tesha’s greeting faltered, as she bowed to the dark goddess. “I am sorry, my lady. We are only a small settlement.”
A hint of a smile quirked at the edge of the goddess’s lips, and Aphora realized she was merely having fun with the serious Fey.
Tesha bowed again. “What can we do for you, my lady?”
“I need you to open the door for a guest of mine. Tomorrow, at midnight”
The Child of St. Martin nodded. “Of course, my lady. Who should we expect?”
This time the goddess’s smile was plain to see. “I’m afraid it’s a Gemlirian child. Sort of a disciple of yours, actually.” Her eyes turned to Aphora, who gazed blankly at the Mourner. Aphora was rarely at a loss for words, but the insinuation that she, an elven queen, was in any way connected to a Gemlirian child was so absurd that her mind drew a blank. For a brief, horrible second she wondered if maybe one of her many lovers had secretly been of Gemlirian descent, but she discarded it just as quickly. Surely not.
“I’m sorry?” She finally managed, inadequately.
“She belongs to the village you chased away from the ruins of Dūr-Amagallu. After you entered Arallû, she found a primer of magic that had somehow been left behind, and begin to practice it in secret.”
Tesha found her tongue at last. “My lady, surely you cannot ask us to welcome a Gemlirian within our realm?”
Kas̆dael’s gaze grew frosty. “I can and I do. Let me be clear - this child is very important to me and my sister, Selene. You will keep her safe and train her until I can arrange for her to be retrieved. If anything happens to her…” Her words drifted off but the meaning was clear.
Aphora was the one to respond, simply bowing her head to the goddess. “Very well, my lady. My people can look after her.” It was a tough sword to fall on - the elves had far more reason to hate the Gemlirians than the Fey - but she wasn’t confident in the young, idealistic Fey leader’s ability to make sure that nothing bad happened to the child. Tesha was barely more than a child herself.
With that, the goddess left, the waters of the bowl roiling one last time before reverting to the simple, purplish water of the sea.
Tesha looked over at her, aghast. “We can’t just let an enemy into our camp!”
Aphora shrugged. “It’s a child, Tesha, not a Gemlirian lord. Besides, if a Gemlirian can successfully practice our magic, she must have a significant amount of some other heritage - she can hardly be a full troll.” The Child of St. Martin didn’t look entirely convinced, but in the end, it didn’t matter. No child, however inconvenient, was worth offending a goddess.
The trip back to the ruined city was a quiet one, Tesha worrying about the Gemlirian interloper, while Aphora fretted about Mullu-Lim’s mission. They parted ways at the city gates, and Aphora returned to her estate alone. She stopped at the door, hesitating a moment before pushing it open, but breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her left hand sitting at the table.
Mullu-Lim was digging into a full plate of food, happily helping himself to the leftover remains of the feast, but the thick file sitting at her seat told her his mission had been a success. Sitting down, she met his eyes. “Did you find out what the Fey are hiding?”
He nodded, washing down his food with a draught of wine before responding. “Yeah, and it’s big.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How so?”
“They’re not plotting against us, if that’s what you feared, but their situation is a good deal different than they’ve presented. The truth is, they’re desperate as hell. You know those elders Lady Tesha is always talking about?”
Aphora nodded. "Obviously."
He sighed. "They're all dead."