Chapter 19: The Elves of Espilon

Orion held his hand out. “Ladies first.”

Hinelin hefted his rifle. “Children last,” he grunted, disappearing into the dark maw behind Cyrith. Giddeon nodded to Uzari, gesturing for her to follow behind him as he stepped into the cave.

Though the entrance was wide enough for three to walk abreast, the passage abruptly narrowed, funneling them in one at a time. Cool air hit Giddeon’s face as his vision adjusted. Shortly in, the deep gloom was broken by a soft, sapphire bioluminescence. Dozens of oversized fireflies clung to the walls, their abdomens pulsing with twin, hypnotic lanterns that transformed the tunnel into a twinkling subterranean night.

The passage curved after a short walk, then straightened, revealing a mystical, amber-glowing doorway at its end. Cyrith stood waiting beside it.

“This is the Moon Gate.” She nodded at the swirling portal whose colorful glow hid what lay beyond. “Through it lies the outskirts of the city. Follow my lead and do not wander.”

Before anyone could ask questions, she turned and stepped through, disappearing.

Hinelin, now in the lead, stepped up and pushed the barrel of his rifle through, pulling it back after a few seconds. Finding it unscathed, he glanced back, shrugged, then pushed on through. One by one the rest followed, some more reluctant than others. Giddeon gave Eddington and Oomah some encouraging nudges, forcing them through, then entered last.

Light blinded Giddeon’s eyes as he emerged on the other side. Raising a hand over his brow against the sudden glare, he saw it was no longer on the cusp of nightfall, but midday. The air felt thick and humid, a stark contrast to the dry forest they had left behind. He was inside an enclosure surrounded by forty-foot walls made of lustrous black stone that seemed to emanate a near-imperceptible hum. Atop the ramparts stood four armored figures with nocked longbows aiming down at them.

“Lower thy weapons!” Cyrith called out. “The Golden Watcher has returned with allies.”

A fifth figure appeared along the battlement, wearing a crimson helmet flanked by white stripes and small eagle wings that flared straight back. With a sharp gesture, he signaled the archers to hold, then removed his helm. A handsome elf with long, blonde hair tied in a complex braid stared down at them.

“What took you so long, Cyri?” he called out, smirking. “A Regnog got the better of you again?”

Cyrith’s cheeks flushed, immediately shooting back, “Better a Regnog than tricked by a bog hag into siring her demonic children!”

The elf frowned. “I figured it out before the deed was done!”

“Much to my disappointment!” Cyrith returned. “I was so looking forward to playing with my nieces and nephews, especially the ugly ones!”

“Open the door!” the elf commanded. “Before my sister spills all my secrets to a bunch of Ishions! And what are you soldiers even doing!” He waved the four archers away. “Pointing weapons at the Golden Watcher is likely to get you flogged, or worse. She might personally challenge each one of you to a duel.”

The guards immediately lowered their weapons and stepped back. A heavy rattle of chains echoed from behind the obsidian wall straight ahead as a massive slab of black stone—so seamlessly camouflaged with the rest of the rock that it had been invisible to the eye—began to grind upward.

Cyrith turned to the group. “My brother,” she said offhandedly. “He is a dolt, but he has a good heart.”

“I can relate,” Oomah murmured.

“This area was built to defend our city from danger,” the elf explained as they waited for the gate to clear. “The walls are crafted from pure Asidium, which took over a hundred years to gather. It is a rare find on Enivia. Do you have Asidium on Earth?”

“Depends,” Vessa said, staring at the rock’s dark surface. “It looks obsidian.” She turned back to Cyrith. “Does it possess any natural properties?”

“Asidium naturally repels most magic,” Cyrith answered.

“We don’t have magic on our world,” Vessa slowly replied as Kilner snickered, “so we’d have nothing to test that.”

“So, this is like a gauntlet, just to get into the city?” Hinelin asked.

Cyrith nodded, beaming as she looked around the ramparts. “The walls protect us from physical and magical attacks. If anyone found the Moon Gate passage, they would have to file in one at a time, entering this walled-in section. They would have to get through that door next. Do you see those holes?” She pointed near the tops of the walls. “We have mages on standby, ready to seal the top with a force spell. Pipes connected to the holes lead to twin rivers surrounding the city. If need be, we trap the enemy inside and drown them.”

“Impressive,” Eddington murmured, his eyes transfixed by the ingenuity and effort put into making the area a literal death pit. “Are these the only defenses you’ve got?”

Cyrith arched one eyebrow. “Of course not. We still have two more chambers to go.”

A small, boyish grin made its way onto Eddington’s face as he wrung his hands together. “I’d love to hear about them.” He licked his lips. “I’ve always been interested in castle defenses and traps.”

“Calm yourself down, there.” Orion clapped him on the back. “It’s no wonder you’re still a virgin.”

“I said that in confidence!” Eddington blurted, then realized he’d just admitted what Orion said was true. His face turned bright red, and he pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. His eyes, however, avoided looking straight at anyone. “Nothing wrong with waiting for marriage,” he mumbled.

Cyrith, ignoring the banter, strode ahead as soon as the door stopped its rumbling. She led them through two more walled chambers, each possessing its own unique, deadly traps. Once through the final gate, they entered a long, white-stone hallway with a steel door at its end whose surface was etched with a towering tree. The tunnel was silent, and the anticipation in the air palpable as they all imagined what an elven city would look like.

Cyrith peered back with a small smile and a twinkle in her eyes “The city proper’s just ahead.”

The door opened without so much as a creak, and the elf was first through the door. Everyone filed through, stepping out into the heart of a vast, breathtaking city. Stone buildings stretched as far as the eye could see, interspersed with massive, ancient trees and cascading waterfalls. Cobbled roads, laid with such precision they appeared seamless, ran in all directions. Bright ribbons decorated the streets and buildings, fluttering in a soft, magical draft that stirred the summer air. The place held the rich scents of sizzling meat, aromatic oils, and freshly washed linen.

Craning their necks back, they gasped in collective awe as a whole second level loomed high above them. Long rope-and-wood bridges spanned from one giant tree to the next, with houses built directly atop massive branches—a separate city in the sky.

The sights and sounds surrounding them pulled their attention back to ground level. Elves draped in an eclectic mix of simple, homespun woolen tunics and flowing, vibrant silks bustled through the streets. Vendors randomly lined the thoroughfares, hawking wares from wooden stalls where they sold clothes, weapons, armor, cosmetics, rich oils, charms and crafting materials; nothing appeared to be off the table. In the distance, casting a long shadow across the city, loomed a gargantuan, ivory-colored tree that anchored the scene firmly to its majestic, natural core.

“Wow.” The barely whispered word spilled out of Eddington’s mouth, voicing what the rest of them were thinking.

“Tell me, Cyrith.” Oomah excitedly tapped the elf’s shoulder several times, a girlish smile on her face. “Do they have showers here? Do they? Tell me they do!”

Cyrith slowly craned her neck around to glare down at the finger resting on her shoulder.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry.” Oomah quickly retracted her hand, sheepishly backing away.

Cyrith’s stern look vanished, replaced with a large smile. “We have multiple bathhouses with natural waterfalls, if that is what you are inquiring about. And several hot springs.”

“Eeee!” Oomah squealed giddily, dancing in place like a schoolgirl who had just won the lottery.

“Well, we now know how to capture that one’s heart,” Johnny quipped inside his head.

Go for it.

“Eh, I’m not sure how I feel about interracial—or interorganic—relationships. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against them, per se. I’m not sure how a glop of primordial ooze meshed with the finest technology man could perfect would even work with a woman like her. I mean, I’m kind of too well-made for her.”

Totally.

Giddeon turned to Cyrith, his eyes rising to peer at the sky. “Why has the sun turned back?”

Cyrith’s lips curled upward. “It figures you would ask such a question after being introduced to the wonders of Espilon.” She gestured up. “The sun is exactly where it should be, but we are not where we were before.”

“Teleportation?” Uzari asked.

“That is correct,” Cyrith confirmed. “Espilon is not located on the main continent. The High Elves remain safely hidden away from the rest of the world in this manner, so that those who wish to steal from us—who wish us harm—find such activities daunting.”

“We must be a good distance from where we were,” Giddeon surmised. “It’s midday here. Are we on an island?”

Cyrith tilted her head. “What makes you ask that?”

“The humidity. It reminds me of the seaside.”

“Your instincts do not deceive you,” she replied. “We are far to the west of Averose, the continent your people landed on.”

“Do the elves have many enemies?” Hinelin inquired. “Your defenses appear extreme. Don’t get me wrong, I approve, but this speaks of a dark history to me.”

Cyrith’s eyes became distant for a moment before replying, “Several races have a natural disdain for our kind. They are jealous of our cities and our riches. Jealousy breeds disdain. They would destroy us out of spite, or for something as trivial as gold.”

“Which races?” Orion inquired.

“Depends,” Cyrith answered. “Out of spite, or for riches?”

“Both.”

“Out of spite, the orcs and goblins. As for riches…it is overwhelmingly the Ishions.”

“What are Ishions?” Vessa asked.

“Humans,” Giddeon replied as Cyrith hesitated to answer. “We’re the Ishions.”

“Wait, Vibane didn’t lie about that part?” Eddington sounded surprised. “There really are other humans, aside from us, I mean?”

“Of course there are,” Korrelles’ voice answered as he suddenly appeared, casually slinging his arms over Oomah and Uzari’s shoulders. He winked at Vessa with a cheeky grin. “There are tons of Ishions on other continents, but not like your lot.”

He slipped away before anyone could react, stepping back as his gaze focused on the skyline. “They are more”—his fingers snapped repeatedly—“you know, crude. Yes, that is the word!” One slim finger thrust into the air as his leisurely stroll brought him full circle back around to the women while conveniently skipping over the men. “Some cannot even speak straight, and the ones that do, gah! Accents so ridiculous you would have to piece together what they even mean. Most are dirty, unrefined, and would sell their own grandmother for a few copper coins.”

Closing the remaining distance to Vessa in a single stride, he leaned in and sniffed her neck. She immediately stiffened, a hot flush rising from her collar as she took an awkward step back.

“Not that you people are not dirty, but I can tell you dislike the feeling.” He winked at the three women, one right after the other.

“Be wary around my brother,” Cyrith warned. “He would bond with anything with two legs. He might still if you have only lost one.”

“Oho!” the elf exclaimed. “This from my dear sister! She would bond with…well, actually…she is quite picky. Rather, annoyingly picky, meaning”—he looked around at the men, his gaze settling on Giddeon—“Ah, this one. Has she asked if you have bonded with anyone yet?”

“Korrelles, shut up,” Cyrith muttered, hastily turning away. Her attention was suddenly caught by something in the far distance as she ran her hands through her braids, pressing them close to her cheeks.

“Shutting up,” he replied, running his finger over his lips. His eyes remained fixed on Giddeon as he mouthed, “Run,” in a not-so-subtle manner.

Cyrith turned back, roughly grabbing her brother by the shoulders. “Grandfa—I mean, Elder Waterbreeze summoned me back. Ash most likely left the Dead Zone.”

“She what!” Korrelles straightened, his charm instantly vanishing. “Why would she?”

Cyrith eyed their group. “I have a suspicion it is because of them. More specifically, their campsite. They were attacked by a large group of Griwoks.”

Korrelles sighed, placing a hand over his temple and rubbing it. “It is likely she is there. You know how she is.”

“Waterbreeze is preparing the Golden Watch.” She tapped his chest firmly as she spoke. “Be a good little brother and find out when we can meet with the Council. We will be in the Bazaar Proper.”

“Will do. Oh, by the by.” He glanced at the women. “Where is Lily? I see she has been rather generous in handing out her clothes—something I would never guess in a thousand years she would ever do. You know how stingy she is, especially concerning her personal attire.”

Cyrith’s tone lowered, but her face remained stoic as she answered, “We’ll talk about that later. Go.”

Korrelles frowned, but bowed. Turning to the group, he winked at Vessa once more before striding off into the city.

“Is anyone else hot here?” Vessa asked, wiping her forehead.

“Not really,” Eddington replied. “I actually like the weather, and there’s plenty of shade with all these large trees everywhere.”

“Ohhh,” Kilner groaned, slapping his forehead. “Your denseness is literally crushing me.”

Cyrith faced the group, hands on her hips as her eyes narrowed, assessing them. “You have all been through a lot. Let us eat before we meet with the council. Later, we will bathe and rest up for the night.”

“A bath!” Oomah gushed. “I love the sound of it already! I can’t wait to not feel icky.”

Eddington raised his arm, leaning in to sniff at his armpit. He immediately jerked away, his nose wrinkling. “I second that. I haven’t bathed in a week.”

Oomah glanced at Uzari and Giddeon with a playful smile. “A few of us bathed a few days ago. It seems only one of the men was enticed enough to clean up.”

Uzari blushed.

“Ah, is that when you bonded?” Cyrith asked candidly. “In the water? That sounds…intriguing. I myself have never tried—”

“Let’s get that food!” Hinelin interrupted loudly. “I’m starving. I’m sure the rest of you are as well.”

“I could eat a cow,” Eddington moaned, rubbing his belly.

“I think you already did,” Orion muttered.

“This way,” Cyrith instructed, turning to lead them through the street.

As they traveled, carriages and carts whisked past, most of them pulled by plain-clothed elves wearing white headbands as they escorted elegantly dressed passengers. Everywhere they went, the locals paused and stared. The women in particular ogled the men, their eyes lingering heavily on Giddeon and Orion, while more than a few gave Hinelin an appreciative look up and down.

Kilner scoffed as a carriage rolled past carrying an extravagantly dressed woman whose rich accessories nearly blinded them in the sunlight. “I see no matter what world you’re on, there’s a distinct hierarchy.”

“Every culture has one,” Cyrith replied. “But here our poor are not poor like other races. They are treated with respect. None want for warm food and good drink.” She looked up at the trees and buildings soaring above them. “Every person owns a home, modest as it may be. Many of our rich share their wealth for the betterment of the community.”

“Why do I feel like a piece of meat?” Hinelin remarked as they moved along.

“You are different,” Cyrith answered as they traveled along the side of the street. “Elves live most of their lives young and beautiful. You are human, and older. It is a fetish for some.”

“So, we’re exotic to everyone here?” Orion asked.

“Does this upset you?”

Orion grinned, staring back at all the lithe, golden-skinned elves looking him over. “Oh no, no. Not at all!”

Oomah rolled her eyes. “Ignore him,” she told the elf. “He’s already got an ego the size of the moon.”

“Does your race not marry one another?” Vessa asked curiously.

“Elves live long lives,” Cyrith replied. “Bonding to just one person is a…novel idea for most. There are a few that do ‘settle down,’ as we call it, but they are the exception.”

“What about children?” Oomah looked around. “I don’t see many. Do they live elsewhere, or perhaps they’re being schooled?”

Cyrith wound them through a more crowded area where wondrous smells enticed the nose. “High Elves do not reproduce easily with our own kind,” she said loud enough to be heard above the increasing buzz of the city. “Due to this, other races are used to produce children, resulting in hybrids.”

Vessa’s eyebrows rose. “And this is acceptable?”

“It was not always so,” Cyrith replied. “Half-elves were shunned by purebloods, deemed broken and dirty due to their foreign bloodline. As centuries passed, purebloods began to dwindle. More half-elves came into being as elven maids sought children with the other races. Eventually, they were accepted into the cities, though prejudices still exist—most notably from the older houses. Elves do not accept change easily.”

“What about them?” Orion asked, nodding toward a parked carriage at the side of the road.

Five elven maids lounged nearby, markedly different from any they had previously seen. Clad in sheer, draped fabric, their slender frames and small, horned heads commanded the most attention. Three watched the party closely: one with silver hair and emerald eyes, a petite ruby-eyed girl with dark-green hair looped through a sash cinched tight to her waist, and a wavy-haired indigo beauty with sea-green eyes.

“They certainly look different from the rest,” Uzari commented, a slight frown touching her lips.

“Why are they so…” Giddeon’s voice trailed off.

“Horny?” Cyrith finished.

“Well, if that means what I think it means, yes.”

Cyrith’s lips turned upward in a faint smile. “They are the Tea Elves—half-breeds whose very nature is evident by the other race that sired them. Demons and devils take the form of comely elves and humans on occasion, deceiving our men and women into bedding them. The result is what you see: an elf with the attributes of its progenitors. Thus, horny elves.”

“I’m still not entirely certain we’re both using the word in the same way,” Giddeon murmured.

Cyrith’s smile widened. “Gary once said the exact same thing. He told me what horny means to you Earthlings, and the word fits Tea Elves in both appearance and demeanor.” She chuckled softly. “I remember the look on his face the day I suggested Zuzel had taken a liking to him and wished to spend the night in his chambers. He turned so red I thought his head was going to burst. Poor man. I pointedly told him not to be afraid to have a simple Tea-fling.”

“Did this Gary fellow take her up on the offer?” Orion asked, overly curious.

She snorted. “Gary? Oh, no! He was obsessed with his book, not females. In fact, right after I said that, he immediately scribbled Tea-fling down, then retired for the night—alone. I found it very odd, but that was Gary.”

As the group passed by the carriage, the Tea Elves continued staring with unabashed interest. A couple of them smiled coyly, their intense gaze following Giddeon and Orion.

Uzari pressed close to Giddeon’s side, reaching out to firmly grab his hand.