Published My Book: "The Battle of the Erathiel: Across the Enchanted Sea"

Hey guys!

Published my book :D!
Here's the Kindle version :)


 And you can get the printed version on my Amazon Author Page.

The Battle of the Erathiel: Chapter 3: The Desert (Inkitt Contest Version)

CHAPTER 3

THE DESERT

They had never seen a desert before; their home had been quite different from such a barren land. Green forests and pristine rivers overran Eidelvar, but it had all faded under Bragolthar’s foul magic. The heat was almost unbearable on their scalps, but the wagons they assembled would help with that. The desert looked endless with dunes and mountains decorating the sand. They would have to choose a path soon for they could not stay with the little provisions they had. While some finished eating, others finished up preparing the wagons for the road. Animals walked around, while a group waited and stood together by the ship. Among them stood a majestic white she-wolf who was great in size—enough for a grown person to ride—white as snow and elegant with each step she took. Her name was Faana and she was the spirit animal of the youngest of the King’s sons, Prince Valruin.

Valruin stood apart from the group, leaning against the ship, his silver eyes watching Faana inspect the sand. He had helped assemble many wagons and was now enjoying what bit of shade he could get. A solitary breeze passed through his dark hair as he played with a dagger in his hand, he did not like to wait. His brother, Camlhach, was next to him grooming his mare, Tinwe, patiently. Tinwe was a silver-coated beauty unlike any of the other horses they had brought. She was the last of her line, as many of their animals were.

“Faana,” sighed Valruin, approaching his white she-wolf to stroke her fur. “I am so sorry, girl. There is no grass to rest beneath you or tree to give you shade.” Faana looked around and then at Valruin, who was now searching his pack for the special food they made for the animals.

“Who would have thought that one day we would be eating dwarf food?” said Camlhach as he fed Tinwe. Elven cooking was very efficient and little bites could give a great amount of nutrients, but the dwarves taught them of their hearty meals and they had created a new and better food.

As Faana ate, Valruin pulled out some of the hybrid food and took a tentative bite, too. “This may all be new to us, but for the younglings and their children, sharing with dwarves will probably be one of the most natural things in the world. It was about time.”

“I could not agree more. I’m glad we are allies,” admitted Camlhach, his golden eyes meeting his brother’s. “Our differences were never something so marked, I find. I just cannot believe that Bazur and Nurunn are the only ones left.”

Valruin walked over to his brother as he replied, his voice a little lower than before, “At least they have each other.” They both knew they could not allow themselves to become too involved with their emotions.

Many had found their people cold and heartless in their old home, but it was not that they took pride in having to suppress feelings and memories. The elves were always misunderstood among other races, but during the last years, they had been able to show their allies who they truly were. Luckily, the only dwarves and human left on the face of the world knew them and accepted them as they were, and they did them.

Suddenly, Camlhach turned around and spread his arms gesturing to the landscape, his face now bearing a smile. “Well, if this is to be our home, Brother, I shall require lighter attire. Think there are enough leaves to cover all this?”

Valruin uttered the first laugh since their arrival. “Leaves, Your Highness? As you can see, there is not a single leaf to cover your pale skin.”

“There’s bound to be a leaf somewhere out there and you’d better search for it; otherwise, you’ll have to see far too much pale skin for your own sake!” said Camlhach mischievously.

More than one elf laughed. Valruin made a feigned, disapproving glare. “Mind your words, Camlhach. We do not wish to stir a fair maiden’s heart, now, do we?” Yet, he paused for a second as he suddenly looked back to the sea in thought. Valruin saw the look in his eyes and turned away.

Bazur and Nurunn had volunteered to help scout the land nearby. Even though elves possessed a keener sense of sight, hearing and speed, dwarves were known for enduring heat far beyond any race. This quest was as much theirs as it was for the elves.

“Bazur!” called Nurunn. “Do you see the mountains ahead?”

“Just a moment!” said Bazur who stood only a few steps behind her, kneeling and examining the desert sand. He got up quickly and walked to her side. He was tall for a dwarf and had a friendly disposition. Being young, his beard had yet many years to grow big and strong, but he walked with a confidence and assurance that would make anyone think his years were not too young.

“I see them now,” he said with a smile as he parted a strand of dark hair that covered his eyes. “They do not look at all like the mountains from home. Look at how dry and red they are.”

“And tall,” added Nurunn, extending her arm to point, her golden braids following her.  “They seem to continue along the seashore for quite a distance. Do you think we should follow them?”

Bazur stroked the bit of beard he had as he replied thoughtfully. “I believe so. It can provide us with shelter and also guide us throughout the journey. Can you imagine the minerals inside, Nurunn? The weapons we could make? The jewels?” he said eagerly.

“I can,” she replied with a smile, turning to look at him. It had been a while since she had felt a spark of enthusiasm. “Perhaps there are minerals that have not been discovered yet, stones waiting to be polished by our hands. We could—” Nurunn stopped as she looked at her hands.

Bazur saw her face change, her smile fade. “Nurunn?” he asked with concern, searching for her eyes and taking her hands.

“They are gone, Bazur,” she said with sad eyes. “All of them: gone.”

“They are not gone, my love,” said Bazur with hope in his eyes. “They are with us every step of the way.”

She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes for a few seconds. “I know. It’s just—” said Nurunn with misty eyes. “I just miss them.”

“As do I,” he said. “We will not let our people’s legacy fade. We have been chosen to carry out this important task—just you and I—and I am not saying that our people were meant to die. I miss them just as much as you do.” He paused before continuing. “We can save what is left of our people, my love, because we are our people.”

“You are right,” replied Nurunn, wiping her tears and straightening up. “We can do this. I just hope that with time we can make our people proud.”

“We will, my love. We will make them proud,” said Bazur embracing his wife and smelling the ocean in her hair. She smiled as his arms wrapped themselves around her and his warmth comforted her whole.

The sun’s rays came down harsh on the Erathiel as they made their way across the land. Whether they walked, rode on horseback, or wagon, the sun’s heat gave them no peace. Valruin was among the first of the company. He walked steadily with Faana at his side, playing with a dagger or two on occasion, never letting the blade pierce the pale skin on his hands. There was barely anything interesting to look at, except the yellow, bushy plants that grew erratically over the sand and little rocks here and there. Even the tall mountain chain that seemed to run on forever along the coast had not changed in shape or size. Everything seemed stifled. He wondered how long it would take to reach the desert’s end, it seemed infinite. The Enchanted Sea had finally led them to land and it had not been what they had expected, but to venture into the sea once again would have cost the lives of their mortal friends and probably their own, that much he knew.

His silver eyes wandered from the sharp mountain peaks to his brother, who walked next to him, just behind their father. Camlhach was not riding Tinwe, instead he would pat his mare every now and then while quietly humming a song from their old home, a song that Valruin hadn’t heard since the day he was born, The Lay of the Dragon.

“Come now, Faana,” said Valruin as the white she-wolf let out a whimper of complaint. “It won’t be long till sundown and then the night will be yours.”

Faana’s thick coat did not sit well with the sun and her tongue hung dry out of her mouth. Valruin kneeled to share what water he could spare with her and she licked the last tongueful from his hands before continuing the journey. When he got up, Camlhach was no longer by his side; he had reached their father up in the front. He saw them exchange words, Camlhach agree, and then advance beyond the company. He disappeared as he went down a slope, Silme and Tinwe following close behind him.

Valruin quickened his pace. Camlhach had always been the one to lead; it was his birthright, but Valruin knew he was never proud of it. While some would expect a prince to be pompous, he did not harbor the trait. He had always admired this about his older brother, but envied his position. Just as he had reached the slope, he found Camlhach smiling up at him from below. He had waited for him.

“Well, come on, Brother! I would not want to discover the world’s greatest mystery without you,” said Camlhach playfully.

“Nor could you,” replied Valruin, smiling back as he slid down to reach his brother’s side. “Sadly, your sense of direction is ghastly.”

Lothar walked behind the king with another group of elves. He was as hard and tall as a mountain, being half dwarf and half elven, his auburn hair had practically been shaved off, save for a few warrior braids that hung over his broad shoulders. He took mighty strides, leaving large footprints behind him, unlike the elves whose feet walked lightly over the sand.

“Curse this desert sun!” he complained under his breath, not particularly to anybody. “It is melting the very life out of me!” Lothar had never been of many words, yet these had always been significant among the Erathiel, for he—as King Thinidiel—was among the eldest and one of their finest warriors. His small comment caused more than one elf to agree with his discomfort, all except for Turion.

“Oh, you mean the gentle sun? I feel the brisk wind on my back,”  said Turion with a grin. He turned to another elf and shared a cheeky smile. “This heat is absolutely unbearable,” his voice was hushed, but loud enough for Lothar to hear the contradictory statement.

“However,” continued Turion, his tone changing, “I do not see why your complaint has to be heard above everyone else’s. Truly, we are all melting under this wretched sun. Even the dwarves look like they are having a little trouble coping with it.”

Bazur and Nurunn nodded in agreement, sweat marking their brow.

“I am not saying that it is hotter for me than for others, nor that my troubles are above everyone else’s,” spoke out Lothar agitated. “I am merely expressing how uncomfortable the heat is.”

“No, no, no,” said Turion simulating concern, “you are right to feel more heat, dear fellow. For I believe we all know that a blossom’s petals are easily marred by the hot sun.” More than one gasped at Turion’s words for Lothar’s name meant none other than ‘flower’ in their tongue, which was a name commonly given to elf maidens, but his mother had loved that name.

“Lothar, you fool! Lothar is my name and it would do you well to remember that there is nothing about me that is as delicate as a flower,” scolded the ruddy giant, slightly annoyed and embarrassed by Turion’s words.

“Nay, I would have a flower’s name if I were delicate and, well, you are delicate, aren’t you, blossom?” Turion laughed once more as his deep blue eyes sparkled with mischief, infuriating Lothar further, but he only shook his head and cursed under his breath as he walked on with the rest of the company. Turion’s brow turned serious as he turned away from the others and stopped to look at the sea.

Queen Nimtar’s eyes looked far away from the others. Her gaze lost in an invisible world only she could see. Thinidiel approached her wagon, sat beside her, and waited until she spoke. She always had moments when her mind traveled to unknown places. Sometimes she would return with a smile, other times she would carry tears. Thinidiel preferred to be at her side whether she filled his heart with the light in her smile or the sadness in her eyes.

“This land is new,” spoke Nimtar softly, coming out of her dreamlike state. “Full of magic and power. I can feel it grow as we move into it.”  The tip of her staff shone as the last of her words left her lips.

“Nothing to be concerned about, my love?” asked Thinidiel as he reached for her hand and held it tight, but tenderly.

She did not look at him for a few seconds as if she were listening to a distant voice. Suddenly, as if she returned to earth, she met his silver eyes. “We have yet to see. It would be best to be on guard. I do not know where this power comes from, but if this is the land fate has brought us to, there must be light in it.”

Thinidiel smiled. “Of course, there must be. Perhaps this light can lead us to our daughter or bring her back to us.”

Nimtar’s eyes shone and she smiled with hope, “Yes, I am sure of it, my love. We will find her.”

He kissed his wife and abandoned the wagon, and made his way to his sons, who were bravely leading the expedition. Nimtar smiled as she looked towards the sea, singing a sweet melody, her staff shining bright.

Nightfall was nigh and so far nothing had stopped their pilgrimage. Although they were not tired, for elves rarely became so, they had in their company mortals and animals that would surely need to rest their weary legs.

“A cave!” cried Camlhach back to the company. “Look! There is a cave not far from here. We could set up camp there.”

“It is far enough from the sea to not be bothered by the tide and not too far inland to be at the desert’s mercy, Father,” spoke Valruin as he used his keen elven eyes to assess the landscape.

“We could rest there, but first we must inspect it,” said Thinidiel with precaution. He looked up at Silme, who was circling above him, and once their eyes met the bird made his way towards the cave. “Let us walk on,” he said turning to his sons, “but proceed with caution. We do not know what lies ahead.”

Whether it was an act of defiance or simply that they had not heard their father, the princes did not obey the king’s command. Valruin smiled with a spark in his eyes as he jumped on Faana’s back and raced his way over to the cave, like a ghostly white specter moving over the sand.

“Cheat!” cried Camlhach as he mounted Tinwe to catch up with him; his mare was the fastest from their land. “You only do this because you know I will reach it first!”

“Nonsense!” yelled Valruin as Faana galloped her way towards the cave. “I only cease opportunity when presented before me!”

King Thinidiel, seeing their disobedience, quickly mounted his horse and went after his sons. The rest followed with a quickened pace. He did not believe that there was necessarily a nearby danger that could befall them, but he could not let them venture on his own. They could take care of themselves, he thought, but suddenly he realized that Silme had not returned. Something was not right.

“Valruin! Camlhach! Halt!” cried out Queen Nimtar sitting up in her wagon, her bright eyes troubled and alert.

Silme’s cry rang across the desert though no one could see him. If he had found danger, he would not lead it to his people. A strong wind began to blow and it was almost as if the sun’s light had dimmed, but not the strength of its heat. The sand began to move under their feet, making it difficult for them to stand. Wagons almost tipped over, but the tremor only lasted a few seconds, but then creatures, wild and vicious, with scaled skin and lizard-like bodies, came from beneath the ground.

The Battle of the Erathiel: Chapter 2: The Harbor (Inkitt Contest Version)

CHAPTER 2

THE HARBOR

Across the sparkling Enchanted Sea, sailed a ship whose white sails shone like flames of pure light. It was great in stature, twice that of a regular vessel, and bore two large masts that overtowered the vast deck like replicas of heavenly clouds. The shape of a beautiful golden maiden sat carved at its head, her delicate wooden arms outstretched towards the sapphire sky. It was a majestic ship but its body now carried the scars of the storm, as did the people aboard. They had been wandering for months searching for any sign of land, but they had found none. No one had been spared from suffering or loss throughout their journey, but there was one among them that carried the weight of them all. It was Thinidiel, the last Elven King from the land of Eidelvar.

Thinidiel stepped onto the deck of the ship, his deep blue cloak following him like a silky shadow as he made his way towards the foredeck. He looked across the horizon, the viridian sea touching the sky, and wondered when they would finally find land. It had been too long. As he stood there, arms crossed, a gust of wind pulled back his navy hood, revealing his long silver hair. While parts of his scalp were completely shaved, glorious braids adorned his head sporadically, resting behind his pointed ears. He let one of his hands fall on the beautiful silver hilt of his longsword. Thick scars crossed both his hands and arms, but it was his face that had received the worst. A large mark ran from the top of his forehead, down his cheek, where his left eye had been compromised, yet his beauty was somehow unmarred. His scars were not from the storm.

Three vessels had carried the last of the elves, dwarves, and humans from their land. Sadly, not all had survived the voyage. The elves aboard the ship were renowned in their land as skilled warriors, wise, and immortal. Traits common among the elven kind, but due to their different origins, a mixture of elven races from their land, they possessed skills that were quite unique. They were fierce warriors unlike any the world had ever seen, their sizes and colors varied greatly, and they were not as patient as one would expect an elf to be. They were the last remaining elves: the Ordhan, the Sergan, the Ruadhan, and the Donoan. Together they were the Erathiel.

Thinidiel made a short whistling sound. It was immediately answered by a small silver bird that sat on one of the tall wooden masts of the ship. The bird scouted above and below, his eyes a penetrating black, surveying the land with a patience that only those of many lifetimes show. His name was Silme, the eyes of the ship and a symbol of both beauty and stealth. He was the Elven King’s spirit animal and like all spirit animals, he was loyal and ever at his master’s side. The bond they shared was that of friendship, bound by magic and trust.

He looked up at Silme and like a swift cloud the bird came down and sat on his shoulder—his wings and master’s hair the same bright silver color.

“Good morning, Silme,” said Thinidiel as he pulled out a treat from a hidden pocket. Silme gave a gentle bow before accepting and remained on the King’s shoulder as he fed.

“Far have we strayed from our home, my friend,” said the Elf King as he looked across the endless sea. Silme looked into his eyes, as if trying to give him comfort; he remembered it all as if it had happened yesterday.

The land of Eidelvar was not ancient, but it had witnessed many years of happiness, hard work, and peace. Yet, in the darkness, there had been someone watching them from the very beginning. His name was Bragolthar and he was an elf corrupted by power and dark magic. His fight against the good people of Eidelvar had been such that very few had survived his wrath and some had even turned to his side, though not all had done so in sound body and mind. When they had a chance to escape and survive, Thinidiel gave the order and they fled from war. He would have thought it humiliating to leave their home in the past instead of fighting their enemy till their last breath, but it was the only chance they had had. Nevertheless, woe had not been the only outcome of war.

Dwarves, humans, and elves—once segregated—had come together to survive. The elves had never needed aid before and the dwarves would have never helped them in the past—considering that these two races had always despised one another for being so different. But, the knowledge of the elves and skill of the dwarves, the gracefulness and the roughness of each other, had managed to birth a friendship that helped many survive. In the case of humankind, they had always maintained a good relationship with both and had welcomed the help of the two allies with open arms, for out of all the good races across the land, they had been the smallest in numbers. War had united them.

Thinidiel suddenly felt a strong cool wind hit the sails and a dense grey fog began wrapping itself around the ship. Silme was no longer on his shoulder, but he could hear his cry lost in the fog. Everyone on deck looked around perplexed, searching for its origin, but no one could find it. Thinidiel quickly made his way to the main deck, but stopped as he noticed the absolute silence that suddenly surrounded them. Everyone interrupted whatever it was they were doing just to listen. The wind seemed to have disappeared, but there was a sensation that they had not stopped moving. As Thinidiel walked carefully to the edge of the ship, it stopped abruptly. They had hit something. The crew shook. He raised his hand to calm his people as he leaned closer to see what they had hit. The fog evaporated, leaving everyone with a clear view of where they were.

“Land,” Thinidiel found himself saying with a smile. “Land, my people. We have reached land!” The crew celebrated, some jumped while others danced and extended their palms to the sky. They were free from the sea at last. Silme came down from the skies and sat on the King’s shoulder once again, but Thinidiel’s attention was immediately drawn to something far beyond peculiar. There was a harbor beside the ship. There was no other structure in sight, just that. A dark harbor. He looked at it and wondered where it had come from.

Its very existence could mean anything and not necessarily something good. It must be a sign. A sign that someone is near.

When he turned around, he met Captain Nimel’s hazel eyes, she nodded and ordered her crew to make berth, but he descended before they could and stepped onto the dark wooden structure himself. He let his weight rest on it, testing its strength. It would have to withstand the weight of many and not just the Erathiel. It was firm. Whether they had landed in paradise or the very opposite, he suddenly did not care for the briefest moment. It was land.

Two elves dressed in gray, each with a rope in their hands, came down from the ship and tied one end to the harbor and the other to the vessel. They looked like young men entering adulthood, but their eyes and scars proved their struggles and their years. Thinidiel thanked them with a gentle nod of the head, they bowed deeply and returned to the ship, but to him it was as if they had never left. He knew their faces, their names, and worst of all, the ones they had loved and lost. The storm had been brutal, the voyage as well, but what they had lived on ground, in Eidelvar, had scarred them too deeply. He was glad to have found land, but all the hope it meant filled him with dark memories of what his people had gone through before. He walked to the edge of the harbor where wood met sand, and kneeled down to grab a fistful.

“Never again,” he whispered gravely to himself. “Never again will my people be tormented, enslaved, or slaughtered. I swear it, never again.” He rose to his feet; the sand in his fist fell little by little back to where it had come from, every grain holding a promise to the new land.

He made his way back to the ship, greeting all with what happiness he could muster. He knew he had to help them by standing strong, by encouraging them to look towards a brighter future, and the hope of the lost ship returning to them. Only few mortals had escaped the wrath of the wind and waves—Bazur  and Nurunn, a husband and wife dwarf couple, and a human child, the Elven King’s adoptive daughter, Telwen. Thinidiel was studying the land when he turned around and met two familiar shiny gray eyes. They were Telwen’s. She did not seem to be looking directly at him or anything at all. She looked pale and uncomfortable, although the elven traveling attire she wore had never brought her discomfort before.

She looks so fragile, thought Thinidiel. To think that she is the only human left. War took far too much from us all. Telwen’s mother had died in childbirth and her father with honor in battle. Unfortunately, her mother had been the last mortal woman in Eidelvar, leaving her with no one of her race to look after her. King Thinidiel and his wife had taken Telwen in as their own and raised her with dedication and love—in all ways was the Elvish Royal Family hers.

Telwen looked up at the Elven King, his height immense in comparison to her own. She was paler than usual and dark shadows bruised the skin under her eyes. Thinidiel approached her and kneeled so that their eyes met. She did not look well and in his fatherly heart concern awoke. She lowered her eyes from his silver ones and hugged her arms, avoiding his.

She is acting as if she has done something wrong, but that cannot be the reason behind her discomfort.

“Good morning, dearest. You are shivering. Are you not well?” spoke the King softly leaning forward.

Telwen still looked away from him as she answered with hesitation, “I do not know. I just feel cold.”

“That is not well. May I look into your eyes?” he asked gently.

Telwen had never been so distant before. She hesitated once more, but slowly began to turn her face towards him until their eyes met. He looked into them with deep concentration.

She does look ill, thought Thinidiel. It must be the cost of sorrow and weariness. She does not deserve this pain. Isilen’s unknown fate must burden her so, too.

“You are only exhausted from the journey, dear. Please rest in one of the wagons with your mother when we part and eat well. You will be better soon, I promise,” said Thinidiel giving her a warm smile as he rose to stand once again—his silver braided hair moving gently along with him.

“Thank you, Father,” replied Telwen with a weak smile not seemingly convinced. “I will.”

“And since you are cold,” added the Elf King, untying his cloak and wrapping it around her, “take this. It will keep you warm.” Telwen’s weak smile turned bright as Thinidiel placed his hand on the back of her head, leaning forward to hug her gently. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his embrace before they parted ways.

Whether they stood above or below, they all wanted to step out and walk on the new land they were to call their home. Some shared kinship, while others were strangers brought together with the same goal. There were still many inside the ship, including animals—tamed horses, wolves, and hunting birds. One by one, beast or not, they came up to look upon the new land. They stopped once their eyes witnessed the landscape.

It was an endless dry desert. Afar there were mountains, but there was no grass to walk upon, no trees or flowers as far as the eye could see. They were all in shock and, for a moment, they forgot everything and were filled only with a terrible sense of defeat. King Thinidiel noticed the disappointment in their faces and decided to draw their attention by standing on the railing of the ship, above them so they could all hear him speak. “My people, my friends, do not be discouraged by what lies ahead. Yesterday, we had no land to walk upon, but today, we have the chance to walk once again. The journey has been hard and most wearisome, but it has not been in vain. We have made it; we have reached land at last. Think not of this desert as the end, but as the beginning of our greatest adventure. I ask you now to take courage and to not let your hearts falter. We will make our new home.”

The Elven King’s words mesmerized the crew, even the animals, they looked hopeful now. Among them stood an elf of lesser height than some, cloaked in robes of silver and white. Her eyes were a beautiful emerald color, while her skin was light and had a glow about it, like moonlight. It was Queen Nimtar. She had been walking among her people, seeing to their needs and their hearts. She had a special touch, for by simply holding one’s hand she could take away their greatest sorrow if only for a while. Whether she stored this or if she simply eliminated it from the world was unknown to her people, but she always seemed strong—even when facing a loss of her own.

“And so it shall be,” spoke Queen Nimtar. “We shall walk upon this earth, we shall search and we will find. Do not fear, for you are not alone. Together, we can do this.” Thinidiel’s face shone with pride as he watched his wife speak, and as their eyes met, she returned his smile. Together they turned around to be the first of the company to step onto the harbor and to walk on the the desert sand.

The Battle of the Erathiel: Chapter 1: The Storm (Inkitt Contest Version)

Dear readers,

As some of you might know, I'm currently finishing my book to enter it in a contest by Inkitt to, hopefully, land a publishing deal. By doing this, you will have full access to my complete work BUT until then, I will share with you my new work, little by little, just so you can get a sneak peek. Hope you like it and feel free to comment!

Constanza

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The Battle of the Erathiel

CHAPTER 1

THE STORM

The storm was the fiercest they had ever beheld. It was wave against wave and wave against ship. Rain poured brutally from dark clouds over the decks of the three ships, blinding all aboard who tried their best to stand their ground. Some helped evacuate the water so it would not sink their ship and others looked after the wounded as the harsh wind tattered the once white sails, which now hung eerily from above.

“Hold on!” cried out Isilen, who with great strength and dexterity, managed to keep her ship from crashing into the occasional rocks that hid between the mighty waves. Her long, dark hair moved wildly behind her delicately pointed ears and her olive cloak danced recklessly about her body as the mighty wind snapped the brooch that held it together and snatched it away until it was lost in the dark, cloudy skies. She looked at the ship next to hers and saw the crew struggle against the wind and the rain.

“Turion!” she called out over the booming thunder towards her ship’s colossal sails.

“Princess!” shouted back a golden haired elf who treaded daringly on the main yard of the ship’s mighty mast. He jumped down and quickly made his way across the deck to where Isilen stood, his movements effortless though the ship rocked violently. “What is your command?”

“I need you to board my father’s ship,” she said gesturing with the side of her head.

He stopped to look at her. “Board your father’s ship?”

“Yes,” she said.

“But what about you, Princess?” he asked.

“Nevermind that,” she replied, avoiding his eyes. “They need you more than I do. I will be fine.”

“Isilen—” he began, taking a step closer to her.

“—That is an order,” she interrupted, stopping him with her eyes.

He did not reply. Instead, he looked into them as if speaking to her with his mind. She knew she could send anyone to her father’s ship, and surely Turion did as well, but she could not shake the feeling that he had to go now. For a moment, it seemed as if he were about to speak, but before she could give him the chance, she diverted her gaze towards the front of the ship and spoke coolly, “Go now, Turion, before it is too late for them.”

He hesitated once again and looked at her with frustration clear across his face, but there was nothing he could do or say to change her mind, so he lowered his head without protest and walked away. As he stepped onto the railing of the ship, his hands tightening on a lonely rope, he looked at her once more, and replied under his breath, “As you wish.”

Isilen met his eyes just seconds before he leaped, but she did not say a word. She saw him land on the sister ship and make haste to help those aboard. The raindrops on her face trickled down as she turned her eyes away. He was safe.

Turion landed firmly and quickly made his way to help secure the sails. The wind was fierce and the rain sharp on his hands, but he did not falter, only his eyes would wander from time to time to the ship nearby. The storm seemed lesser and the waves did not rock the ship as violently as before, but it was a silence that did not last long. Without warning, a massive wave rose as high as a mountain, blocking out the little light that peeked through the dark clouds above them. Turion felt the darkness surround him, he became paralyzed with the sight as the dark mass suspended itself high in the sky. In a matter of seconds, it came down with the intensity of a thousand blows but the wave did not fall on the three ships. It fell only on one, the third ship that floated not so far from them. The cracking of the mast, the groaning of the ship, and the cries of the people filled the air. Those aboard the other two ships looked upon the shattered one in horror.

“Captain Nimel!” called out a strong voice from below deck. A very tall, silver-haired elf emerged from the flooded stairs. His clothes drenched in seawater but the weight did not slow his stride as he crossed the deck. His manners were strong yet elegant, and his bearing was that of a warrior. “Turn the ship around!” he commanded decidedly, “We must reach the others now!”

“Aye, my King!” Captain Nimel shouted back as she turned the steering wheel with haste, ordering her crew to man the sails.

The Elven King joined in and helped his people, but suddenly stopped as he found himself face to face with Turion. “Turion,” said the King, his eyes filled with surprise, “what are you doing here?”

“King Thinidiel,” Turion replied as he continued to help the crew, “Isilen sent me.”

“Isilen?” Thinidiel said under his breath, almost as if he were trying to remember something he had forgotten. Then a grave look crossed the King’s face as his bright silver eyes fell on the young elven warrior who looked up at him with concern. “You were supposed to stay with her, Turion.”

He was about to reply but a strange, inhuman cry suddenly pierced the skies. They both turned instinctively to look at Isilen’s ship. She was standing before the mast, giving orders to her sturdy crew, but she too suddenly looked up and around to find where the cry had come from. Her eyes fell on them and she stopped to look at her father and Turion momentarily. But almost as if by an invisible hand, something violently pushed her ship away, across the sea, and into the darkness, making it look as fragile and as light as a leaf. It all happened so quickly and silently that it seemed too surreal to be true. Turion’s eyes widened from the sight and the King called out his daughter’s name into the dark, but it was too late. The ship was gone and so was she.

Dark shadows began to crawl out of the water and make their way towards the remaining ship, hovering over the water like dirty silk. They climbed up, blackening everything with their touch, and began taunting and attacking those aboard, taking the shape of their lost loved ones and terrible beasts. But the crew would not be so easily subdued. On deck or below, they drew their weapons—swords, daggers, axes, bows, and arrows—and began to fight the shadows off. Their steel would disintegrate the darkness but it would regain shape once again. Suddenly, a petite, raven-haired elf stepped onto the deck, cloaked in silver robes, a dark wooden staff in her hand with a silver fire glowing at its tip. She looked calm in her movements, but her emerald eyes were ablaze and held in them a fury that her people knew far too well. As she crossed the deck, unmoved by the rocking of the ship, the staff’s silver light grew brighter and the shadows gathered around her almost instantly like moths to a flame, but before she could strike them, two elves came running from the lower deck and began attacking the dark spirits that surrounded her. They were a contrast of darkness and light, one with golden hair and the other dark. They slashed at the shadows with their swords, causing them to disintegrate and then rejoin the rest of the dark shapeless mass that floated in the sky.

“Go back!” cried out the she-elf, raising her staff towards the dark hive of spirits. “I command you, dark spirits. Leave now and return whence you came!” The hive reacted to the light she projected, flinching and twisting, but instead of retreating it threw itself back and then violently launched towards her.

“Nimtar!” the King cried out as he saw the darkness approach the she-elf. He took mighty strides, crossing the deck to where she stood, his longsword ready to defend her, but he was unable to do so. As the darkness approached Nimtar, the silver light in her staff exploded and illuminated the sky. The shadowy figures screamed and withered away under its iridescent light, and the shadows below deck emerged, escaping into the darkness of the storm. The waves began to calm and the dark skies began to clear.

“Mother,” said the two elves that defended her in unison.

“Are you alright?” asked the one with the same raven hair as hers.

“I am fine, Valruin. Thank you,” she replied with a smile. “And you? Camlhach?” The golden haired elf next her nodded. Thinidiel and Turion approached her, but she did not let them speak. “Isilen? Where is Isilen?” Her voice was trembling and as she looked around she saw not her daughter’s ship.

“My Queen,” said Thinidiel softly, “her ship is gone. It was taken across the sea, but it was not destroyed.” Camlhach and Valruin looked up at their father with concern and then to the sea. There was no trace of their sister’s ship.

“Then she may yet live,” she whispered almost to herself, a mixture of worry and hope across her brow. “Yes, of course she lives.”

“We will find her, Mother,” spoke Camlhach reassuringly, his golden eyes looking into hers. Queen Nimtar nodded, but her eyes were now fixed upon the third ship. The storm had brutally destroyed both the ship and those aboard. She was about to whisper a prayer when she noticed that the storm had not yet finished its dirty work.

Darkness grew below the remains of the ship and like a swirling underwater tornado, it began to spin. At first, the ship turned on its axis, but soon enough it began to descend. It was then that they heard the voices of those still alive. They cried out for help, in pain, and with a fear in their eyes that made all who watched shiver. In a matter of seconds, the sea sucked in what was left of the ship and crew into its mighty depths.

They looked at one another with tears and broken hearts. What could they do now amidst the sea? One ship lost and the other destroyed.

No Regrets

I've made a lot of changes in my life this year. The first, quitting a wonderful, amazing job I had where I was surrounded by great colleagues and wonderful students. It was a steady job, paid well, and got to do so many things that I'd only dreamed of doing. I look back now and I realize how lucky I was, but not that I am unlucky now.

As a teacher, touching lives is essential for me. As a writer, singer, well, artist, really, it is the same for me. I have found so many answers within myself during this journey and in this beautiful city that I really can only believe that I am where I need to be and I have lived what I needed to live. Every decision I've taken for my well-being has led me to the right path and I know that when I've doubted myself, my inner voice, it's only led to a big mess. Then again, we can always learn from our mistakes, I sure have.

Who would've thought that quitting a wonderful job would lead to something wonderful as well? Do I miss my students? Yes. Do I miss my co-workers? Yes. Do I miss my family and friends? Hell yes. But do I miss myself? No. How can I when I've been discovering and unfolding so many things about myself that I cannot miss the 'old me'. Believe me, I don't say this in an 'egocentric' way at all, but in a very spiritual way. If you cannot learn to understand yourself, or better yet, accept and love yourself, how can you expect to be OK with life? There is a deep indescribable feeling of when you get to know yourself, taking off each and every layer until you stand truly naked before yourself, and breathing in that moment to tell yourself "Hey, you are beautiful. I love you for who you are. We are together in this forever, until death. Who else has been there with you since you came to exist and will be with until you leave this world behind? Me."

Now, I know it may be difficult for some to understand or to imagine what might seem as a form of separation from yourself to look at yourself as almost two people in one body, but aren't we all more than just one person? What I mean is, aren't we all our own mothers or fathers, brothers or sisters, friends or foes, or even lovers? I know that to love another and to be loved in return is an amazing, wondrous adventure if you choose wisely, but I truly believe that finding and loving yourself is also just as beautiful, but I cannot say even more than the previous, since I believe they do not overrule each other.

As I sit and write this, I find myself alone and surrounded by silence. It is dark outside, it is cold. I have no apartment here like I do back home, but I have a bed to sleep on and warmth in the cold of the night. I don't have a car or a bicycle, but I have two good feet and strong legs to carry me. I don't have my piano, my dear, sweet, loving, piano, but I do have music in my soul and in my breath, each and every day. I don't have my books, but I have a thousand stories to tell. What I have is happiness and independence, freedom and friends, music and beautiful words in my head, passion and rest. So how can I say that I regret all I did? Never. I will never regret, never be lonely, never forget.