The Battle of the Erathiel: Across the Enchanted Sea: Chapter 6: The Journey

The morning air sank in and the cold of night slowly went away. Turion stood by the threshold of the cave watching the night turn into day. The sun’s rays began to spread across the sky, painting it a shade of magenta and light blue, the sand’s gray color turned golden, and light began to reach the mountainside. He watched the waves pull back and return, yet bringing nothing back with them. No one had asked him to guard the doors, but he had wanted to.

He turned to look back into the cave. Nimtar tended to her garden and all the life she had grown within it—many elf children helped and learned from her—the princes and princess sat with a group enjoying breakfast, but Thinidiel was nowhere in sight. Ever since the storm, they had barely spoken, not that they had a solid friendship before, but things were different. At times, he wished he had never followed that order.

“Good morning, Turion,” said Thinidiel who approached him from outside the cave.

“Good morning, my Lord,” replied Turion, slightly surprised he was outside.

Thinidiel reached the cave entry, but instead of going inside he stood next to Turion and also looked at the sea. “The day has just begun,” he said with slight reassurance.

“It has,” nodded Turion. He kept his eyes on the sea, but after a few seconds he stopped leaning on the wall and turned to the cave. “I should help preparing things.”

“Turion,” said the King before the young elf warrior could leave. “Thank you.”

Turion stopped in his tracks as he felt the King’s words. “There is nothing to thank, my Lord. I was only doing my duty.” He bowed quickly and entered the cave.

Lothar was among the first ready to part. He had not much to pack and he had also helped a few others do so. He knew that it was not safe to linger even though there had been no other attack since the last, but if his long years had taught him anything, it was that evil never rests, so neither could they. He looked towards the entry of the cave and found his king. He had seen him go out in the middle of the night and had not returned until now. Silme had been on his shoulder, yet he was not anymore. Perhaps that was the reason why they had not yet parted, thought Lothar. Unlike his elven companions, he had needed to sleep in the night, but only a little, being half-elven allowed him to need very little sleep to regain his strength.

He looked over at Bazur and Nurunn, they had also gotten up early and were helping the queen with the harvest of her magical plants. Lothar smiled as he saw them laugh and talk. They were lucky to have each other, he thought. Whether by fate or not, the three of them carried what was left of the dwarves of Eidelvar. Houses Torzak, Urzak, and Norozak running through their veins. Although, at times he did not know if to consider himself a dwarf or even an elf. It was not common in their lands for their races to mix, but after the war many things had changed and some for the better. His mother and father had met long before the war.

“Morning, blossom,” said Turion breaking Lothar’s thought as he passed by his side.

“Turion,” he replied with a sigh, shaking his head.

“Sleep well?” asked Turion as he also helped pack.

“Yes, thank you,” replied Lothar, expecting a joke or some sort of childish mockery.

“That is good,” said Turion without mocking him.

“And you?” Lothar found himself asking before he remembered that elves do not need to sleep.

Turion stopped packing and looked at Lothar, but instead of laughing at him he just smiled and shook his head as he walked away.

“My king,” said Lothar as he approached Thinidiel. “Our people are almost ready to part. Some are still harvesting the trees and packing, but we all have fed and rested. We are ready when you are.”

“Thank you, Lothar,” said the king turning to face him. “But I believe that we shall not be parting as soon as I expected—at least not all of us.”

Before Lothar could ask what he meant, Silme came into the cave and sat on Thinidiel’s shoulder. He seemed to be listening to Silme, though Lothar could not hear the bird’s voice. Nimtar looked over at Thinidiel and, once their eyes met, called her children to approach their father. Lothar stepped aside even though nobody asked him to, it seemed that the matter might be private, but the queen gave him a reassuring look that he was in nobody’s way. Valruin and Camlhach looked anxious, but controlled to hear their father’s news, the queen as calm as ever with Telwen at her side. King Thinidiel looked at his family and placed each one of his hands on his sons’ shoulders.

“Silme has found life,” said the king with a smile.

“Life?” asked Valruin, suspicious. “Father, what kind of life?”

“People,” said Thinidiel. “Humans living on top of this mountain.”

They looked at each other with surprise, but Telwen seemed most shocked by the news. There were humans left in the world and she was no longer the only one. It had been the loneliest of ideas. She did not want to be the last of anything. Telwen smiled a little, but not too brightly, for she still did not feel fully recovered from the voyage and nightmares had not allowed her to sleep well at all.

“You mean,” began Telwen a little higher than a whisper. “That I am not the only human left?” The news seemed far too great to be real.

“Aye, Princess,” said Camlhach beaming at Telwen. “You are not the only human left.”

Telwen smiled and could not help to embrace her father and bury her face in his stomach. Thinidiel smiled as he stroked her head lovingly. “Thank you, Father,” she said, “and thank you, Silme.” The silver bird bowed its head ceremoniously and sang a sweet and short tune for her.

King Thinidiel took his wife’s hand and Telwen’s as he walked further into the cave for everyone to see. “My fellow Erathiel and dwarf friends,” he began. “I went out to scout the land with Silme early this morning. Sadly, we saw no sign of the Princess’ ship but that does not mean we will cease to hope and search.”

“Nevertheless,” he continued. “Though my eyes can see far there are places I cannot see and with that Silme has been a most gracious ally. He has found something that seems almost impossible: life on top of this mountain, human life.” The elves and the dwarves awed at the news.

“The mountain’s magic seems to be aiding not only our cause, but the existence of an entire civilization up high. If we are to obtain answers and calm the questions in our hearts, we must speak with them. Only some will ascend to meet the mountain dwellers, for now, the rest should stay here while it is safe. Keep watch and only unpack what is necessary. I will send word with Silme when we arrive and have met their leaders. I depart now,” said the Elf King.

Valruin rushed to his father’s side anxiously, hoping that he would join the expedition to the top of the mountain. Camlhach joined him, but walked calmly, almost as if he did not want to be called upon.

“Camlhach, Lothar, and Turion, I will need you to accompany me,” said the king. “Valruin, you are to stay behind with our people and the queen; assist in all that you can. We must go now.”

It was as if a lightning bolt had struck him. Valruin could not believe his father’s rejection. His brother and friends would see the unknown civilization, perhaps he would too if all went well, but he had not been chosen among the first. He approached his father once Camlhach and the others had gone to prepare and spoke in confidence.

“Father,” said Valruin. “I understand that I must stay behind and help look after the others, but I truly wish to go. I need to go.”

Valruin spoke with frustration in his heart, not trying to sound too eager like a child begging for a sweet, but more like an adult that feels a true obligation to their beliefs. Thinidiel noticing his son’s uneasiness put his hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. They were so much like his own and he knew the passion that was inside, for he too had had it at his age.

“Your mother is very powerful, my son,” said Thinidiel. “But if anything should happen to your brother and I, you must be ready to face the storm. She will need you and our people will need you as well.”

“Is this because of what I did?” began Valruin with guilt in his voice. “Is this punishment because I killed him?”

Thinidiel’s face turned serious. “What you did can never be undone and though we have killed and fought in the past, we are here to start a new way of life. No bloodshed is what we swore, unless there is no choice.”

“He threatened Mother and Telwen,” interrupted Valruin heatedly. “I saw it in his eyes.”

“I know you did not mean any harm,” continued Thinidiel calmly but firmly. “But you must learn to obey.”

“Cam obeys,” replied Valruin under his breath with slight bitterness.

Thinidiel looked over at Camlhach before returning to Valruin.

“You are the youngest of my blood, Valruin, capable of leading an army, but you must learn that there is a time and place for everything and everyone, and right now it is your brother’s turn,” said the king looking for understanding in his son’s eyes. “Fate calls out to us all and when it is your time, you will answer.”

Valruin nodded and bowed, but it did not ease the hunger in his heart as he walked away.

Prince Camlhach approached the elflings. “Listen up, young Erathiel!” said Camlhach, almost addressing them as soldiers, but not in an entirely serious manner. “I have instructions for you to follow in my absence and the prince, princess and queen shall oversee that you follow them.”

A young Erathiel boy gulped loudly at the prince’s words, making Camlhach smile for second, but he soon returned to his serious role. “First, you must always remember to be careful and aware of your surroundings, you never know who can be hiding nearby. Second, always obey your elders no matter their instructions and lastly, never attempt to leave the cave or go exploring on your own.”

The elflings agreed but Enora, who was not really an elfling but had been playing with them, rolled her eyes at the prince and replied rather annoyed. “Aye, aye, we know,” she said finally meeting his eyes and not flinching for a second.

“Enora!” said her mother who stood nearby and had seen it all, rushing to her daughter’s side apologetically. “You must not treat the prince in that manner. Apologize.”

“Apologize?” said Enora with surprise, almost unaware of how rude she had been. “I have not insulted the prince and I am sure that if I had, he would have said so. What is more, I know exactly how to take care of myself; I have been doing it quite well for many years now, thank you.”

“Enora,” implored her mother softly. “The prince means no harm nor has he said that you are unable to take care of yourself. Apologize.”

Young Enora looked at her mother and then to the prince, his golden eyes fell upon hers with such kindness that it filled her with regret. Ever since the tragedy in the voyage, she had been feeling a bit on edge. There were faces that she remembered and wished she could see. She was glad, however, that her father had not been taken at sea, but in battle. Even though she did not look at the others’ death as shameful, she preferred to remember her father fighting till his last breath.

“Forgive me, Prince Camlhach, for my rude behavior,” said Enora without a drop of defiance, calming down. “I promise to never repeat such rudeness again.”

“It is fine, Enora. All is forgiven,” said the prince with a patient smile, understanding the change she had already begun. “Now, on your feet!” he said turning to the elflings. “We have a long way to go and before you know it, we shall be back from the mountain high and ready to part—so be sure to have everything packed and ready for our return. Be good in our absence, little ones.” The young elves rose to their feet and began to help with preparations, for they too believed that their prince would be triumphant and back soon from what seemed to them a most admirable quest.

Enora’s mother approached the prince with humble posture. She had the same golden hair as her daughter, but her eyes were a deep brown, whereas Enora’s were as blue as the sky, like her father’s. The loss of her husband had left her with great pain and she had been close to dying, but it was her daughter’s life that had helped her escape an almost inevitable death. Enora, too, had suffered and she feared that it had been the loss of her father that had awoken such a defying attitude in her.

“My deepest apologies, Prince Camlhach,” she began. “My poor Enora, I fear, at times has a fire that burns too bright. I will speak with her, prince.”

He calmed and thanked her for her words. “It is all well, Moiren. A fire that burns too bright can too have a promising future if given purpose and direction. Enora has a good heart and she is still very young,” he replied. “She reminds me of somebody who was much like her at her age,” he spoke a bit louder than a whisper.

Moiren replied as she bowed. “Aye, and may her light return to us again.”

Queen Nimtar stood outside looking at the mountain, focusing on finding the perfect spot. She pointed her staff at the mountain and drew magic from it—so as not to wear her own down—and carved from a distance, on the mountain wall, a staircase that grew till it got lost in the clouds. A stair would lighten their journey tremendously, should they proceed after a victorious meeting with those that dwelled above.

“A thousand steps up,” said Lothar under his breath, looking up. “Could not she have made wings grow out of our backs?”

“Worry not,” said Turion with a smirk. “If needed, I shall carry you.”

Lothar looked at Turion with a serious face while the latter beamed back at him with a mischievous smile.

“Never in a thousand years would I allow anyone to carry me,” said Lothar firmly.

Turion laughed and shook his head, his golden hair slightly covering half of his face for but only a second. “There may come a day when you might need to be carried, old friend.”

Lothar did not reply, he simply looked afar and up towards the clouds where the mountains pierced their cottony skin. He did not like to think about such a day coming to pass. He had lived for many years, seen many things, and even though he fought fearlessly in battle he was not ready to welcome death just yet. Being the only one of his kind, he did not know what his lifespan would be. But death would have to wait.

They said their goodbyes, but these were brief, for few were the ones that ventured to the mountain top and soon would they return with news of peace—or so they hoped. Camlhach looked at his brother and embraced him.

“Look after Tinwe while I’m gone. I know it might not be long, but you know how she is,” said Camlhach. They both looked at the mare, who was at their side, trying to share her concern by rubbing her nose on her master’s shoulder every once in awhile.

“I will, brother,” replied Valruin.

“I know you wanted to come,” started Camlhach with a worried tone. “I wanted you to as well.”

“Father says my place is here,” said Valruin with slight bitterness. “I must obey.”

Camlhach smiled at him and patted his shoulder. “We will be back soon, I promise,” he said as he turned away and joined the company.

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The Battle of the Erathiel: Across the Enchanted Sea: Chapter 5: The Mountain

"He looks... human," said Valruin softly, his blood-stained sword dripping to his side.

Camlhach shook his head. "Aye, but he was not so a moment ago."

Thinidiel fixed his eyes on the young man, Silme sitting on his shoulder doing the same. His face turned serious as he kneeled to analyze the body, his eyes met Nimtar's. The queen also kneeled to look at the boy. "He must have been under some sort of spell," Thinidiel spoke almost whispering.

"His birth was not a wicked one. Now I see this," replied Nimtar as she ran her hands slowly over the body, not touching its skin. "He was corrupted over time, they all were; something very powerful must have changed their hearts." She stopped as she reached the boy's face and gently closed his eyes.

She looked at Thinidiel for a moment, the same thought crossing their minds.

"We must not leave him like this," said Nimtar, rising to her feet. "Regardless of their intentions, regardless of their actions, we must let his soul be at peace." Silver fire appeared on the tip of her staff. She lowered it only a few inches and as it touched the ground, the tongues of flame found their way to the body, setting him ablaze under the pale moonlight.

Thinidiel looked at his youngest son.

Night had fallen and the cave waited for them nearby. Queen Nimtar led the company towards the mountain where her sons had spotted it. She could see the entry of the cave now that they were almost there, but as they approached it she felt something was amiss. The cave was and was not there. Its outline and darkness were there, but as she placed her staff to test its depth, its contact with the mountain side echoed for all to hear.

A cruel trick, she thought. The Dark One's work, no doubt.

She took a few steps forward, just enough to place the tip of her staff against the mountain wall. She closed her eyes and wind began to move all around her—wrapping her in a transparent veil—and growing from where the staff had been placed, blossomed small carvings of vines. They spread and grew in silver light as they formed a two-sided door on the mountain wall, covering the darkness of the fake cave opening. Once it had fully formed, she twisted her staff as if it were a key. The doors opened.

At first, there was only darkness inside, but when she stepped in and lowered her staff, grass began to grow from it and spread at tremendous speed until it covered the entire cave floor. Small trees bearing fruit sprouted from the earth and flowers, too. The plants illuminated the cave, for they had light of their own. Many Erathiel, specially the dwarves and Telwen, gasped in awe at Queen Nimtar's magic, for they had not all seen what she could do in the days of old when there was good magic in the air. Some smiled and remembered those days.

"Follow me," she said raising her staff only a little, its light glowing as strong as moonlight, illuminating their path as they entered the cave.

Thinidiel was reminded of the old days and the power that she could wield. This new world had great magic in it, a magic that could help his people cross the land and build their new home, but he knew well that wielding magic always came with a price and that if one did not control it well, it consumed you. He only hoped that his Nimtar would not forget.

There was room for all in the cave, and their queen had made it so that silver trees grew, reaching up towards the beautiful starlit sky—there was an opening in the ceiling that let both starlight and moonlight in. It was a mere resemblance of the past, but a warm one in their hearts. Bazur and Nurunn beamed up at her, Nurunn with her hand over her mouth, covering a gasp, and Bazur's eyes wandering from corner to corner, admiring what she had done.

"May you rest and find nourishment within these walls," spoke the Queen to all. "The mountain has shared its magic with me, but not only that." She smiled, walking towards the center of the cave where the moonlight fell upon her. "Behold! The mountain's secret."

She touched the green grass with the tip of her staff and a stone fountain emerged from the ground. The water coming out of it pure and never-ending. A clamor of happiness filled the air. They had water at last. Yet they did not all rush to taste its sweetness, instead they waited for their leaders to speak.

"Come!" said Thinidiel as he made his way towards Nimtar. "Drink and eat, but rest well, for tomorrow we have a long journey ahead of us. Let us thank this mountain and our Queen, for giving us all a home tonight." All bowed before Nimtar and she in return also lowered her head gracefully in thanks.

They entered the cave to do as commanded—some with satchels and packs, others with their animals and wagons, there was room for all inside. The first thing they did was drink the heavenly water. Nimtar sealed the cave and continued to make it appear more and more like their old home. Thinidiel watched over his people, how they rested their weary feet on the soft cool grass and how they delighted in each other's company. It was a miracle that they still kept hope in their hearts. They even played their guitars and violins, their flutes and drums, with such merriness that it brought happiness to all around. Even though some of the songs had a melancholic tune, it was a pain and sadness that did not linger. The lost ship would come and with it their families.

The queen made her way to her husband's lonely spot. She bowed down before his feet and as she brushed her hand from the grass and towards his face, she made flowers and vines sprout to twist and tangle into a beautiful throne for him to sit upon. Thinidiel smiled and held her hand, waiting for her throne to complete. They sat together.

"Why did the stars make you so lovely?" he asked as he brought her closer, admiring her face, running his fingers through her raven hair.

"Just so I could match you," she replied softly, caressing his face.

Thinidiel shook his head. "You are far lovelier. I carry too many scars, for which I am thankful."

"I too carry them," she said now gently caressing the long scar that crossed his face.

"I know," he replied. Thinidiel's eyes wandered to where their two sons were. "Valruin..."

"Yes, tomorrow, my love," she spoke as she gently turned his face to look at her once more. "You know as well as I do that he regrets it. Let us rest and let tomorrow be another day."

Thinidiel nodded. Nimtar smiled as with the wave of her hand, more vines and plants began to grow around them, making a gazebo of many colors and light, with curtains of flowers separating them from those around. Thinidiel's silver eyes shone with happiness as he held her in a warm embrace and looked into her emerald eyes.

"Together in life," he said to her.

"Together in death," she responded as she gently placed her hands around the back of his neck.

The elf children sat around a mystical fire that emerged no smoke, only light and warmth, as an elder told tales of their ancestors' great deeds, their obstacles and how they had overcome them in the past. It made the elflings proud and hopeful for a brighter day. Telwen smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes. Sûlmen who was sitting next to her leaned in to whisper.

"Telwen, what is the matter?" she asked coyly.

"Nothing," began Telwen. She tried to look away from Sûlmen, but then again she had always been a wonderful listener and a dear friend. "Well, it is just that I wonder what tales they will tell of my people. There are none of us left, but me, and I probably won't do anything great with my life. It just makes me sad."

Sûlmen smiled sweetly and took her friend's hand. "You cannot be sure about your future, nor that you will have no great part in the forging of our new home. I have known you since you were a baby, Telwen, and I know that there is something special about you," said Sûlmen.

Telwen smiled back and remembered how amazing it was for her to know that her friends, who seemed not much older than her, had known her since birth. Who else that was alive knew her better than her friends and family? The Erathiel grew in such a strange manner. The moment they began to not feel as children was the moment they grew incredibly fast into adulthood. Sûlmen and Enora had already begun this process but it seemed that it had not separated them at all.

"Thank you, Sûlmen," replied Telwen, no longer with heavy eyes.

Close by, Valruin and Camlhach sat on the grass, leaning against a tree trunk, looking through the cave's enchanted ceiling to seize the stars with their eyes.

"They all look the same to me although I know they are not," said Valruin. "I've never truly cared much about their stories, just their light."

"A lot of things look the same to you," said Camlhach with a laugh but it faded as he saw a figure in the sky that made his heart sigh. "It won't be long till sunrise. I hope we do not come across our 'friends' again tomorrow."

"Friends?" scoffed Valruin. "I understand what you mean and I hope we do not, too. Mind you, I always enjoy a good fight, but it all seems so strange. Who were they and why did he turn human after I..."

"You did not mean to, brother," said Camlhach.

"I never should have unsheathed my sword. Why do I always find a way to make things worse?" said Valruin. He suddenly remembered sparing with his sister when they were little and accidentally cutting her in the process.

"You do not make things worse, Val," replied Camlhach looking over at him. "You just let your emotions rule over reason, at times."

"Father has not spoken to me," said Valruin looking over at the gazebo. "Waiting, not knowing what he will say, is torment."

"Father understands us far better than we do ourselves, as does Mother. He knows your heart, trust me on this," replied Camlhach reassuringly.

"I am sorry, truly," Valruin began, his silver eyes looking at the grass. "It is just this journey, this barren land, the storm--" he paused. "Will we ever find her?"

"I know we will or she will find us, most likely the latter," replied Camlhach with decision. "It'll be alright. Some things never change."

"Some things never should," Valruin looked at the stars until the sky grew dark and only dreams filled his mind.

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The Battle of the Erathiel: Across the Enchanted Sea: Chapter 4: The Dark One

They were a twisted hybrid looking species of human and reptile, with arms and legs that ended in sharp, clawed extremities, and a thick long tail protruded from their lower backs. They stood armed and armored on the path to the cave. Camlhach and Valruin stopped right in front of them, their shiny slitted eyes fixed on the princes.

“We mean you no harm,” spoke Camlhach, raising both hands for the lizard people to see. Silme flew back swiftly towards the Erathiel and sat on the prince’s shoulder, giving the lizards an ear-piercing screech.

“Your friend does not seem to think so,” uttered a short and stocky lizard. His voice was raspy and low, vibrating and slithering words into the air. Dark green scales covered his body and only in some parts did he bear armor, unlike the rest of his people who were more brown or yellow colored and taller than he. He eyed Silme with a curious smile, revealing sharp, needle-like teeth.

“Silme is an excellent judge of character,” responded Valruin crossly, to which the lizard laughed dryly, causing the rest of the lizard folk to join in. It was thanks to Silme that they could all understand each other, for his cry had magic in it and made all languages understandable to the company.

“A bird is only food to us, not a wise man,” the lizard replied, licking his lips with his forked tongue.

Valruin grimaced, but Camlhach gave him a discouraging look.

King Thinidiel finally reached them, his people close behind. Though the conversation had felt heavy and long, it had only taken him seconds to reach his sons. He dismounted and bowed before the lizard people, his manner tranquil and courteous. “Well met. I am Thinidiel, King of the Erathiel. These are my sons, Camlhach and Valruin. We come in peace and with the hope of finding a new home. We mean you no harm.”

The same lizard eyed Thinidiel from head to toe. He spoke out, but did not bow, “King? You? There is only one King and it is not you. Who invited you? Who gave you permission to invade our lands, False King?” He began to pace and crack his knuckles impatiently, his people hissing and fidgeting as well.

“We are not invading your lands,” clarified Thinidiel kindly. “We are only passing through until we can find land to live on, land that belongs to no one. Please, there is no need for us to quarrel. Let us pass; you need not see us ever again.”

“Everything belongs to our King, all of the land. Why would he share with you?” The lizard’s eyes fell from the people that were almost behind Thinidiel. A wicked smile crept across his face as he closed his eyes and listened to a short violent wind that suddenly came between them. When he opened his yellow eyes, the smile was wiped from his face.

“You are no King! There is only one King under the fire and darkness, and he wants you dead!” He drew his weapon, a crooked sword of dark blade, and pointed it at Thinidiel. The lizard people drew their blades also and looked ready to strike, hissing and slicing the air with malice.

Just when the princes were about to draw their weapons, their father raised his hand to stop them. He did not look at them, but instead spoke to the lizard leader once again, “Please, let us pass. No one needs to get hurt. You do not want to do this.”

“Oh, but I do,” replied the lizard with a wide, terrifying smile as his body tensed. He raised his crooked sword. “Attack!”

Thinidiel avoided the lizard’s attack, turning swiftly away from the blade and stepping aside with the greatest of ease. The lizard stumbled forward almost falling down from the strength of his blow. Thinidiel watched him silently, steadily as the scaly foe found his ground.

“Attack me, False King!” he demanded, brandishing his sword with ferocity.

Thinidiel did not move or answer, his cool silver eyes fixed on the heated reptile. The lizard plunged once again to strike him, his twisted blade aiming straight for Thinidiel’s chest. But instead of drawing his longsword and meeting his foe’s dark blade, he used his hands to immobilize him. He could hurt no one like this.

“Coward!” he hissed, struggling to break free.

Thinidiel’s eyes met the lizard’s and for the briefest second his squirming stopped as the Elven King spoke firmly, almost tenderly, “I will not have a bed of corpses be the foundation of our new home.” The lizard was paralyzed, but Thinidiel had loosened his grip.

Suddenly, he broke free and aimed his sword straight at Thinidiel. The Elven King moved effortlessly away from the blade and took a step back, ducking every now and then, in response to the lizard’s attacks. The small reptile seemed exhausted from his effort and the frustration behind his attacks seemed to tire him even more.

“Do you surrender, friend? Will you tell your people to stop?”

The lizard’s eyes fell on his people who like him had failed at making the elves fight. The Erathiel would evade their attacks and use the reptiles’ own strength against them to disarm them. His people, though agile and skilled, were not a match for the foreigners. It was not a sight he was proud of, it made his people look weak. The lizard’s calm expression vanished as he replied odiously, bearing his sharp teeth, “Never.”

Thinidiel’s jaw tightened and for a second his kind silver eyes turned grey as he replied, “So be it.” He let the lizard go and turned to his sons. “Come, we will not stop for this.”

Valruin looked at his father with surprise, whereas Camlhach agreed and signaled the company to continue.

“As you wish, Father,” said Camlhach.

The reptile stared at Thinidiel in disbelief as he walked away, “You will not turn away from me! Face me! Face me and fight me, coward!”

“Father,” spoke Valruin only loud enough for the King to hear him, “We cannot walk away from this. We must fight them.”

Thinidiel did not turn to face the lizard, but instead approached his son and spoke with decision, “Not all fights must shed blood, my son. Remember that.”

Valruin did not know what to reply, but his father’s words rang in his head.

Suddenly, the leader of the lizards cried out. The mantle of night had fallen and the moon was high in the sky. Something strange began to happen to the lizard people. They began to hiss loudly and spasm, falling to their knees, their bodies bending and cracking under the moonlight. The Erathiel grew worried and stopped as they saw how the lizards suffered, but as the reptiles’ bodies began to grow and gain a more muscular shape than before, their concern became another. The lizards stopped squirming. They rose to their feet, matching the elves in height, some even taller and wider than them. Their eyes had turned bright red.

“Now, False King,” chuckled the once small lizard that now stood taller than the Elven King, “you will fight me.” He raised his dark blade.

Thinidiel was quick and like a silver shadow drew his sheathed longsword as if it weighed no more than a leaf and raised it high to meet the giant lizard’s black one. He struck harder than the Elven King had expected, but the strength of his mighty blow did not shake him. He had faced stronger foes. He tried to strike the beast in points that would immobilize it, but the lizard did well defending himself.

Thinidiel jumped high into the air and flipped over the lizard’s head, striking the back of its skull hard. The lizard screamed and whipped his tail ferociously as the Elven King landed on his feet. It was thick and fast, but he managed to duck and roll before it got him. As he did this, he managed to strike part of the lizard’s back leg, causing him to limp. He had to stop him, but he would not kill if he could help it.

Just then, a small, semi-transparent ball of air passed over Thinidiel’s head, hitting a lizard that was running towards the Princes, straight in the chest. It opened its mouth to cry out, but the very force of the blow left it speechless as it fell to the ground. Thinidiel smiled as he saw Nimtar standing only a few steps behind him. She had not waited for an order, she did not have to. The Elven Queen raised her shining staff to the skies, shooting out a beam of light that spread across the desert, blinding the lizards as the company advanced.

A wild lizard attacked her. She struck it across the face and swept it clear off the ground as she manipulated the wind with her staff. The lizard was three times her size, but did not stand a fighting chance against her magic and strength. When it tried to stand once again, she hit the ground with the bottom of her staff to jump high into the air and fall hard on the lizard’s back, striking it with enough force to render it unconscious.

She made her way towards her husband and sons, Telwen running behind her with her two friends, Enora and Sûlmen. She was a furious and beautiful sight to behold as she struck the enemy with wind and staff, blocking and avoiding the lizards’ attacks, containing her inner fire. Telwen and her elven friends struck the reptiles with sheathed swords together, following the Queen’s steps. Once united, the three girls formed a circle, back to back.

“Look out, Telwen!” cried out Enora as she blocked a blow that went straight for her friend. She raised both her short swords, unsheathed them in seconds, and cut the scaly foe, but not deep enough to end its life. Her bright blue eyes passed quickly from the lizard to Queen Nimtar as she struck it in the head and it fell to the ground; the Queen did not say a word, but her eyes showed not amusement. Enora did not care she was the first to spill blood on the desert sand.

Telwen listened to her friend but did not look at her. One second of distraction could cost her life. It was strange, but she did not feel entirely threatened by the lizard folk. Perhaps it was because she was so well-guarded. Nevertheless, she kept her own and fought well against the lizards with the help of her friends.

Close by were Bazur and Nurunn. Each of them proudly fighting with axes, forged by their forefathers. Bazur would strike mighty blows while spinning his axe to hit even more targets and Nurunn would do so as well. Suddenly, Bazur lunged directly towards a scaly foe that had wrapped its tail around Nurunn’s feet and made her fall. He used one of the enemy’s unconscious bodies to gain higher ground as he jumped and hit its head with his mighty axe. Their skill was such that they did not kill the lizards with their strikes.

“Are you alright, Nurunn?” he asked as he helped her to his feet, her golden braids about her delicate face.

“Yes, don’t you worry about me!” she said with a smile as she charged towards the lizards bravely.

Bazur smiled while fighting off more lizard people. “That’s my wife you are fighting!” he shouted proudly, striking one enemy after another, “My wife!”

Valruin was riding his wolf as he fought the enemy. Faana pushed and flung lizards to the side as they made their way across the battlefield, though she did not kill a single one. Valruin, against his own wishes, struck the lizards without cutting them, but that did not stop him from jumping off Faana’s back and striking a lizard clear across the face, leaving it unconscious on the desert sand. Camlhach shot arrow after arrow, occasionally using his own bow to strike, as he rode on Tinwe’s back. She circled the enemy with valor in her heart as Camlhach managed to pin the lizards’ clothes to the ground, keeping them from getting up. They were not men, not elves, or like any foe they had encountered before. At times, they would blend with the sand and appear from behind to catch them off guard, but the elves’ reflexes were sharp.

Nearby, the mighty Lothar fought against the strong lizard people. He struck the enemy with bare hands, refusing to draw blade to fight. Their hides were rough and cold to the touch, but it did not cause him much trouble when he gripped them before rendering them unconscious. Turion fought near him and even in the face of danger, he would not desist from teasing him.

“We are proud, aren’t we?” said Turion to Lothar whilst fighting. “As daring as a rose’s thorns, sweet blossom.” He grinned as he punched a lizard across the face with no effort or regret whatsoever.

“I—am—not—a—blossom!” cried Lothar as he crushed two enemy skulls into each other. Turion, who had not refrained from his self-amusing mockery, paused to grant Lothar applause.

Though it was a battle, they had not much to fear, for much worse had they seen in their old home. Still, they could not let their guard down. It was not long before they had stopped all but one, whom King Thinidiel held at his mercy.

“It is over, my friend,” spoke the King calmly, “will you now desist?”

“Never!” choked the villain, though it was his squirming that caused this.

“You can retreat now. We do not need to fight,” said Thinidiel with patience in his voice. “Why did you attack us?”

“We answer only to the Dark One and his will,” replied the creature with a twisted smile, his eyes falling on Nimtar and then on Telwen. “We kill all that is bright and good.”

Valruin’s blood boiled as he followed the lizard’s eyes. He quickly drew his blade and held it against the lizard’s neck. “Who is your master? Who is the Dark One?”

Before the King or Queen could draw their son back, the villain let out a horrible laugh as he instantly shoved his neck deep into the prince’s blade. Valruin’s eyes widened as he met the lizard’s eyes. King Thinidiel looked at his son as he let the body down on the floor, slowly. It only took a few seconds for the lizard to stop moving, his blood stained the sand. Camlhach approached his brother, put his hand on his shoulder, and pulled him gently to his side.

Suddenly, the lizard’s face and skin no longer looked as before, it changed before their very eyes from scales to skin, from sharp teeth and claws, to hands and feet. The lizard was now a young man, dead before their eyes. The other lizards were gone.

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The Battle of the Erathiel: Across the Enchanted Sea: Chapter 3: The Desert

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.

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