The Elven Prophecy

Chapter Four: The Journey Begins

Elijah woke the next morning to find Shana missing… which was the usual occurrence -- Shana never liked to stay in one spot, she was constantly moving. Even more so in the mornings for after she had awaken; she’d run off to bathe or something of that nature. Now that he had been fully aware of the maiden’s true lineage, he knew why. As an Elf Shana must have been plagued by the urge to find her people and stay close to the Earth, as it was the Earth who gave birth to the Elven Ones and they wanted nothing more than to be close to their mother.

Ugh… Elves. Elijah hated them. In fact, all of the Elmeai did. But why? Even he couldn’t remember but he had been piled high with myths and faerie-tales of the supposedly “evil” creatures ever since he was young. But were they true? Now that he took the time to think about it, the idea of such beautiful creatures burning villages, destroying lives, and starting wars seemed almost unreal. Was it possible that the Elves spoken of in the tales were those that branched off to side with the Dark Lord during the first war in search of protection, a guaranteed life, and -- most of all -- power?

Endlessly churning eyes spotted a glimpse of the young Shana who made her way through the high overgrowth of various wild-flowers and sweet-smelling grasses. Finely pointed ears, pale and slightly shimmering skin, large, round eyes… Yesterday wasn’t a dream; Shana was a -real- Elf.

“Elijah,” Shana called as she neared the boy, “we will head north, towards Wizards Dome. We should find adequate shelter there, as well as bountiful game and fresh water. The morning is still young, if we start now then we should be there before midday.”

“Isn’t that a long way…? I can’t possibly walk all day. I’m a simple creature, Shana, not some god.”

Shana sighed and hung her head, “the Sprites of the Wood have offered us their help, we have use of their boats and their waters that run through the Niena caves.”

Sprites? Shana was willing to place their lives in the hands of those complicated little beings? Preposterous! Those things were known to trick all sorts of creatures and lead them into deathtraps and the Niena caves were their homes -- they couldn‘t be trusted, least of all in the heartland of their territory! There wasn’t any possible way Elijah would set foot, ear, lip, or nose in those winding, death-ridden tunnels.

Shana must have noticed the distress in his eyes, for she leaned forwards to take hold of his hand in a reassuring manner. “Sprites are kin of the Elves, one has never -- and will never harm one of its people. You are safe with me and we are safe with them. They sense fear, Elijah, and they feed on it as they do any other emotion, but more than that, they -act- on it. So be strong, for one who fears them is an enemy to be dealt with and defeated.” Noting that her pep-talk seemed to enlighten the boy (though she knew not if it was in a positive or negative way), the girl started off in the direction of the caves.

Elijah staggered on behind her, his hand still in her grasp as they pushed their way through the weeds, around trees, and over small streams, past the hold of the Elven ruins. He wasn’t familiar with this place, not like he was with his own home. There were no softly curving hills, intricate waterfalls and trickling streams. No herds of cattle or the loud calls of kittens awaiting the return of their mothers. Instead, their were towering, leafless trees looming above them, moaning and swaying in the increasingly harsh wind as their branches seemed to extend towards him to grab or point and laugh. The soft, mossy paths of the ruins gave way to unforgiving earth littered in sharp rocks and rotting plant growth and the air smelled of carcasses, a scent that grew stronger as the temperature in this hell rose.

Cupping a hand over his mouth and nose, the young Elmeai fought the urge to gag and nearly tripped over the rotting corpse of a wild pig ridden with flies. A teary glance up at the girl before him failed to surprise him in any way; Shana hadn’t been affected by their surroundings, which was to be expected. Sprites, like Elves, had the power to conjure up magnificent illusions and force specific creatures to see these illusions. The works of magic could be as enchanting as a grand Elven palace or as hideous as the depths of hell itself. It was clear that the Sprites weren’t fond of his presence in their territory and because of their oath to leave him free of harm, they were showing their disapproval in much worse ways.

A sharp pain shot through his legs before he unwillingly fell to his knees, his hand falling from that of the girl’s. “Shana! Shana, I can’t move my legs…” the muffled voice rang out as he reached out towards the Elven maiden. Tears were brimming in the corners of his eyes as he swallowed hard and tried to ignore the atrocious smell of rotting flesh and the agony of his legs. He was then rescued, to say the least, by the one he called for who then scooped him up into her arms and advised him to close his eyes.

‘It is the illusion of the Sprites, what they call “Nienaima,” Niena’s Hell. Only those they dislike are the ones who are subject to Nienaima’s wrath, and while the unpleasant smell ought to be enough, the burden of Ayaen’s Arrow is a most certain death sentence for unwelcome guests unless one is in the company of Sprite kin and has a means of escape, for those left paralyzed are damned to stay where they’ve fallen for all of eternity.’

Telepathy, another wondrous trait belonging to the Elves.

‘But what will happen to me, Shana? If I can’t walk…’

But one they could gift to others, should they hold the desire. A simple touch, however small or large, could bestow the ability of telepathy upon the one receiving the favor. Elijah had noticed a small surge of power ripple through his body as Shana took his hand to reassure him, and he immediately new what to make of it.

‘You will be fine, it is just an illusion. Stay calm.’

The illusion slowly started to fade, ending with the diminishing of the pain in his legs. Minutes, hours, days, weeks… months… years… It felt as if he had been trapped in that torturous illusion for an eternity. A great burden had been lifted off his chest and as he opened his eyes and gazed upon the enchanting world of the Sprites, a hint of awe tapped longingly at his heart.

Iridescent mushrooms emitted a soft glow that illuminated the darkness of the caves and as Shana continued down the softly lit and narrow path and from her arms Elijah glanced at the shimmering streams on either side, his attention was pulled towards the room fast approaching. The mushrooms lingered, but only for decoration purposes as now the lighting was administered by large red-tinted rose like buildings that clung effortlessly to the walls of the cave tavern, adorned with evergreen leaves and meandering vines that swallowed the area in an intricate web of spirals. The two streams lining the path they had followed emptied into a single river that curved around the floor of the tavern and lay crossable by various leave like bridges scattered about. The ceiling was barely noticeable, having been almost completely shrouded in rose buildings and vines, but it was clear that the tavern itself was much larger than one would expect and probably towered up the height of the mountain.

“Beautiful…”

"Enchanting, wondrous, mysterious… Pick what you like, but is it not true that no word in the common tongue can put into words the beauty of our world? If it was not for the lovely La’Shana, you would have failed to reach the haven of the Sprites.”

Shana turned to face the pair that has stepped from the shadows, “Lady Isha, Lord Ayaen, I did not see you.” She then placed Elijah on his feet and hurried to greet the two with gentle kisses to their cheeks and this greeting was returned to her before all eyes fell on the boy. “Elijah,” Shana started and the boy hurried to her side, “you are now in the presence of the Lord and Lady of Niena.”

“It is a p-p-p-pleasure,” the boy stuttered as he performed a rather clumsy bow before attempting to straighten himself up and coughed lightly into a fist. “It is a pleasure -- and an honor to be among such beautiful representatives of the Sprites.”

“As it should be, dear boy, for you are the first outsider, save for our kin, to glance upon our world.” Isha tugged slightly on the slightly transparent dress wrapped around her body. While the platinum filaments that hung tidily about the woman’s head in delicate curls and braids, the violet dress she wore demanded much more attention. The sleeves hung off the shoulders and gripped the arms until reaching the elbows where they flared, the tight corset was tied at the waist with a beaded chain adorned with an extravagantly decorated rose pendant positioned in the middle. As odd as it seemed it was as if from the waist down the dress -wrapped- around the lady… like a curled leaf, a spiral, starting just under the pendant to cascade down to the floor of the tavern and trail behind the lady a good six feet. It was not, however, tight. In fact, it was rather loose and flared out as the sleeves did and all edges of the dress were fringed, save for the neckline lined in ivy, leaves, and rosebuds.

Ayaen’s garb lacked the exquisite details of Lady Isha’s and instead consisted of a loose, thigh length shirt tied at the waist with a black belt, a cape hung over his shoulders, loose pants, and knee-high black boots. Earthly tones… Refreshing and simple, though if the man had been placed in the dress of his wife he would have been mistaken for the Lady, for his features were as soft and lovely as a woman’s and Elijah figured long platinum hair sprinkled with braids and soft curls failed to shine any hope of manliness on the Lord. Ayaen even possessed the waist and hips of a woman…

“Elijah… Elijah…”

“Eh?”

“You must rest. Come, I will show you to your quarters.”