— Chapter Two —
A Walk on the Beach
Iadrawyn wrapped her arms around herself in a loose embrace, chafing herself for warmth. She pulled her cloak closer around her shoulders with chilled fingers. The dark sky overhead was laced by the branches of the trees. Iadrawyn was glad for their shelter, naked as most of them were. The looming emptiness of the sky always unsettled her. That something so vast should be completely devoid of light…
She shook herself and continued to pick her way along the forest trail, brushing her long, black hair back from her face as she walked. A light dusting of snow covered the ground beneath her feet. The natural sounds of wildlife soothed her frazzled nerves. Pausing, Iadrawyn closed her eyes and allowed her sharp breathing to slow to a deeper, more relaxed rhythm.
She had left the village so she could be alone, which was not unusual, but her anger was. She inhaled the pine-scented air and exhaled slowly, her breath a steady plume. She felt a semblance of her usual calm return, albeit reluctantly. She opened her deep green eyes and continued along the trail, her elven sight piercing the darkness with ease. Although her anger had faded, her thoughts still churned as she walked.
It was the visit from the drakhal that had incensed her. The foul creature should never have been permitted to cross the borders of her people’s wood. What madness caused the elders to welcome it as a delegate was beyond Iadrawyn’s understanding. Her own father had voted to consider the drakhal’s message! It was as if he thought the thing could be trusted. Iadrawyn realized her hands were balled into fists. She forced her fingers open and shook them loose.
The world was changing. Iadrawyn knew it. She could sense it building with each passing day, this feeling of waiting for something to happen. What it was, she did not know, but she couldn’t believe it was a truce with the drakhalu.
The drakhalu were as ancient as the elves. When the world first came into being, the spirits who watched over it eventually became manifest in various forms who served either light or darkness. There were the dragons, masters of air and fire, who attacked from the skies with jets of flame. Some dragons were creatures of light, but many served the darkness. Her people were the elves, or Adar in their own tongue. They were former spirits of light, reborn in tall, lean frames with dusky skin, pointed ears, and delicate features.
The Sea Folk were also people of the light. They were elf-like creatures who had the lower body of a fish and lived in the deeps. The Fire Folk served only the darkness. Their bodies were mere shadows that could burst into flame at will.
Then there were the drakhalu. The polar opposite of the elves, they had the same frame and features, save that their skin was milky white, and their eyes were strange colors that no elf’s would ever be. They were denizens of the shadows, who took their sustenance from the blood of other creatures, puncturing the skin with their sharp fangs to drink.
Although they looked like living creatures, they were the embodiment of death, and could only be destroyed by certain means. They could not reproduce among themselves, but often shared some of their own blood with their elven victims to turn them and swell their numbers. Like all dark creatures, they fought against the elves for dominion over Ralvaniar. It was a struggle that had endured since the beginning of time. Thus far, the elves had managed to resist, but the cost was often high.
Now the drakhalu were trying to make peace. Their leader had sent an emissary. To hear the messenger talk, Iadrawyn’s people were in grave danger. Not from the dark races, no, but from their own kind—the other elven tribes, who were plotting against them.
It was the one fatal flaw of the elves. After becoming manifest as the elven people, they realized they had diverging interests, and split into different tribes before dispersing far and wide across the face of Ralvaniar. The Sea Elves, who loved the waters, settled on the isle of Arindaria. The Earth Elves were masters of metal and jewels. They made their home to the north in Meladaro, at the feet of the Hamad Sinta, the Mountains of Sky. The Wild Elves were a fey people who lived unfettered in Melabeli to the east. Finally, there was Iadrawyn’s own kind, the Wood Elves, whose hearts belonged to the trees. They made their home in the great wood on Ralvaniar’s western shore.
As the years went by, the tribes became more insular, and communications became strained, eventually ceasing altogether. Now the drakhal messenger claimed the other tribes had aligned with the Fire Folk and dark dragons, and were planning to turn on the Wood Elves. Many of Iadrawyn’s people were swayed by the creature’s words. The drakhalu could be very convincing when they wished. Their strange eyes were almost hypnotic. Now her tribe was considering going to war against their own race.
Iadrawyn was unconvinced. What reason did they have to trust the word of this foul embodiment of darkness and death? How could they know the drakhalu weren’t sending emissaries to all the elven tribes with the same story? They never acted without purpose, and what could be better than to wipe out the very people who stood between the dark races and complete dominance by turning them against one another? Iadrawyn wondered if they had contacted the Sea Folk as well.
No one wanted to listen to Iadrawyn’s concerns. She was only a youth among her people, despite being several decades old. Her eccentric reputation certainly didn’t help. Iadrawyn was a solitary soul who enjoyed her independence. She was often away from the village, wandering the wood. This was not considered appropriate for a woman, especially not the daughter of one of the noble council members. But Iadrawyn had ceased begging permission for her excursions long ago. She was more skilled at tracking than anyone else in her tribe, so it was no difficulty to slip away unnoticed. Her parents grudgingly learned to accept her need to roam unfettered, although they did not understand it.
The snapping of a branch somewhere behind her startled Iadrawyn to alertness. She stopped to listen. After a moment of silence, she heard a familiar footfall and stifled a groan.
“Iadrawyn!” An elf with long, silver hair jogged to catch up to her. “I heard the council met with a drakhal. I knew you would be upset, so I came looking for you. I’m glad I found you.” He beamed, his violet eyes lighting up his guileless face.
“Eruvalion,” Iadrawyn greeted him with long suffering patience. She looked over the other elf’s shoulder and silently cursed. In her anger, she had left a trail even a child could follow. Hence, Eruvalion.
Eruvalion had become attached to her when they were both children. He followed her everywhere, watching her with his worshipful gaze. It was maddening. Iadrawyn had lost her temper with him several times over it. This only made him try to follow her unseen. In a way, it was worse. It was one of the things that had forced Iadrawyn to take up tracking in the first place. She could usually avoid him in the forest, but she couldn’t hide from him in the village for long. No matter how she tried, she would find him hovering somewhere in the background.
She had tried to talk to his mother about it. Aranriel doted on her only child. Her husband had died in battle before Eruvalion was born. She brushed aside Iadrawyn’s repeated requests to keep her son away, believing if Eruvalion thought Iadrawyn was his, it must be so. She had been smug, insisting Iadrawyn would come around about the idea eventually. Iadrawyn suspected she even encouraged her son’s possessive nature.
Iadrawyn had learned to ignore Eruvalion over time, but it wasn’t easy. One day as a child she had lashed out at him in frustration, calling him ‘Eruvalion’ in a taunting jest. The name meant ‘hidden watcher.’ To her chagrin, he claimed it as his name from that day forward. It was the one thing she had ever given him.
“Where are you going?” Eruvalion asked, ignoring Iadrawyn’s silence.
“Nowhere in particular. I just wanted to go for a walk so I could calm my thoughts. Alone,” Iadrawyn said, knowing full well her hint would be ignored.
“Well no one should be off alone with drakhalu about. I will keep you company.” He smiled, looking pleased with himself.
Iadrawyn stifled a sigh of frus
tration. She had to think of a way to get rid of him. In her current state of mind, she couldn’t trust herself not to lash out. As much as Eruvalion annoyed her, she didn’t want to say or do anything she might regret later. If she did, she would never hear the end of it from his mother.
“You don’t like the drakhalu either?” she asked, her mind already working.
“I certainly don’t trust them. Who knows what they’re up to with this peace gesture?”
“You know, I stormed off in such a hurry, I never told anyone I was leaving or where I was going. Did you?” Iadrawyn kept her tone casual.
“No… I just set out to find you as soon as I realized you were missing. Everyone was so busy talking about the drakhal messenger. I was probably the only one who noticed you were gone.” His chest puffed up with pride.
He was probably right, but Iadrawyn needed to regain his focus. “I’m not ready to go back yet, but I don’t want anyone to worry… I wish there were some way I could get word back to the village so they could find me if anything happens, especially with drakhalu lurking about. Who knows what they will think when they find me missing?”
“I can go back and tell them!” Eruvalion leaped at the opportunity she had left dangling.
“Are you certain? I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you…”
“It’s no trouble at all! I’ll run back and tell your parents, and return to find you.” He grinned. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“My thanks, Eruvalion,” Iadrawyn said, feeling a bit guilty about her manipulation. “That would be wonderful.”
“Ward yourself until I return.” Eruvalion turned and ran back in the direction of the village. Iadrawyn listened as his footfalls faded into the distance.
Alone once more, Iadrawyn stepped into the trees, away from the trail. This time, she was calm and left no trace of her passing. Weaving between the trees, she veered southwest toward the coast. She often sat at the edge of the wood to listen to the crashing of the waves on the beach. It was one of her secret places. No one knew about it, not even Eruvalion. The rest of her tribe avoided the open waters, remaining deep within the heart of the forest.
The familiar pounding of the surf grew louder as Iadrawyn walked. Soon she could see the crests of the waves writhing in the distance. The trees came to an end. Iadrawyn remained beneath their familiar shelter, sitting with her back against the trunk of an ancient spruce. Beyond the forest’s edge, the snow-covered ground sloped downward in a gentle hill, ending at the beach. Iadrawyn had never set foot beyond the edges of the trees. Most of her people didn’t travel beyond the borders of their wood, unless it was a group of young warriors who went off seeking adventure and battle against the creatures of darkness.
Iadrawyn closed her eyes and tried to lose herself in the endless crashing of the waves. She had always felt isolated from her tribe—some of which was by choice—but she had never felt it so keenly as when the council had listened to the drakhal emissary. She felt the irresistible urge to do something, but what, she did not know. The council would never listen to her protests. And yet she could not accept the situation. The drakhalu were trying to manipulate them somehow. She felt it in her bones, but she had no proof. Perhaps if she could convince her father…
Some deep-seated instinct brushed Iadrawyn’s thoughts aside, urging her eyes open. She remained motionless, listening and peering into the darkness. No unusual sounds could be heard and there was nothing to be seen nearby. Her eyes scanned farther into the distance, seeking the cause of her alarm.
Something was moving in the water. It took her several moments to notice it past the motion of the waves. It was a group of figures, moving toward the beach. Iadrawyn found herself already on her feet with her knife drawn. She berated herself for storming out of the village without a bow.
There appeared to be three of them. Two figures dragged a third limp shadow between them, laying it on the sand. Strangely, they did not move very far inland, staying well within the reach of the waves. Iadrawyn watched, fascinated as they both lay on the sand, propped up on their elbows, with the limp figure between them.
Iadrawyn didn’t know how long she stood staring. When one of the creatures turned its head in her direction and beckoned, she cursed herself for a fool. Whatever they were, their eyes were keen enough to have picked her out from the trees.
The creature beckoned again.
For a moment, she was frozen with indecision. The rational part of her told her to flee back to the village. And yet every other part of her was urging her to go down to the beach.
Iadrawyn realized she had taken a step out from the edge of the trees without thinking. What was she doing? It could be a trick!
The figure beckoned once more.
Iadrawyn sighed. Whatever was down on the beach was in need of help. She could not in good conscience walk away.
She took another step toward the beach. The dark sky loomed overhead. The vast emptiness was disorienting. Iadrawyn had never felt so vulnerable and exposed. A frisson of fear brushed over her. Her fingers were clenched around the hilt of her knife. How it was going to protect her from the vacant heavens, she did not know. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to continue toward the water, keeping her eyes on the terrain in front of her.
By the time she walked down the hill and reached the sand, she had broken out in a cold sweat. The creatures had not moved except to urge her forward from time to time. Now that she was closer, she pushed her fears aside and took a better look.
At first glance, they appeared to be elves. Both had dusky skin and long hair, tangled with seaweed. Their torsos were bare. One was male and the other female. Then the water covering their lower bodies rolled back. Iadrawyn stifled a gasp. Both creatures had shiny scales where their legs should be, forming a long tail ending in a fluke. They were Sea Folk.
Now that she was close enough, she could also make out some of their coloring. The male’s hair and scales were green, and his eyes appeared to be a murky green as well. The female had blue hair braided with shells, and matching blue scales. Her silver gaze met Iadrawyn’s. Both creatures looked exhausted.
Only after she got a good look at the Sea Folk did Iadrawyn notice their burden. The third figure they had dragged onto the beach was not one of their own. An elf lay unconscious on his back. Judging by his silver hair, callused hands, and the fact that he had been rescued from the sea, he was most likely a Sea Elf from Arindaria. His clothing was torn and there was a lump on his temple. His skin was tinged blue with cold, but Iadrawyn also noticed what appeared to be burns on his body. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow.
“We rescued him from a shipwreck.” The female’s voice had a reedy quality as she spoke haltingly in the Elvish Tongue. The Sea Folk had their own language they used among themselves, and they seldom interacted with elves, with the exception of the Sea Elves. “He is wounded. We have done all we can. He needs help from his own kind.”
“But I am not a Sea Elf,” Iadrawyn protested, thinking of her people’s reaction if she brought this elf to her village. “You should take him to Arindaria.” The two creatures exchanged glances and spoke briefly to each other in the piping tones of their own tongue. The male seemed agitated while the female spoke in soothing tones.
“Forgive me,” the female continued, “but all land-dwelling elves are the same to us, save that we have regular contact with the ones who live on the island. We would have taken him there, but there are winged demons about and this was closer.”
“Dragons…” Iadrawyn breathed in fear, her eyes scanning the skies for shadows.
“The great black one attacked his ship with many others before flying south. We could not risk following in their wake to return this one. Will you help him?”
There was only one ‘great black one’ Iadrawyn knew of among the dragons: Nargaz. All elves had cause to fear him. When Nargaz attacked, he left no survivors. How had this wounded elf escaped? Either he was very clever, or
very lucky.
The Sea Folk awaited her response, their faces unreadable. Iadrawyn knew if she did decide to help, she couldn’t take the wounded elf back to her village. With the drakhal stirring up trouble, her people would not react well to the presence of a Sea Elf. But if she didn’t help him, who would? She could see he was in poor shape. No other elf from her tribe would help him if they found him, and as far as she knew, she was the only one who ever traveled this close to the edge of the wood. If she didn’t help him, he would probably die.
“I will help him,” she sighed. As she said the words, she felt something within her she hadn’t known was disjointed snap into place, startling her for a moment. Her intuition had always been strong—stronger than any other elf she had met—but she had never felt this powerful a reaction before. For whatever reason, she was meant to care for this elf.
“Thank you,” the female said. “How is it you are called so we may remember you?”
“I am Iadrawyn.”
“Iadrawyn.” She spoke the name slowly. “I am Nimrilwyn and this is Rallavalan. We must go now. Farewell.”
The Sea Folk launched themselves from the beach with the next wave, their flukes fluttering behind them before they disappeared below the surface. Iadrawyn watched the water for several moments afterward, unable to believe what had just happened.