The group splashed on, Mell still pondering the statues. They passed a handful more, but she couldn’t recognize them: an armored she-elf, a scribe with a scroll–a mustache carved out of her face. Mell frowned at the poor treatment of the sculpture. Probably the work of the youths Fenn had mentioned. They came before long upon the waterfall. It was a good thirty-feet tall, broken by slopes and shelves.

“Here we are! The Fountain of Youth! Not much farther from here.” Fenn prepared to climb. 

“The Fountain of Youth?” Mell’s lips twisted with mirth. “So, I can expect to live forever after I climb this, right?” They all knew the legendary Fountain was hidden in the Heavenly Realm, but the name was the same. She couldn’t resist.

Syrdin snorted. 

Fenn flushed. “Erm, a poor translation. I suppose I meant Adolescent’s Waterfall, or something along those lines. Reas te h’oyge.” 

Mell smiled. It did translate literally to fountain of adolescents. Youths’ fountain. Considering what Fenn had told them about protecting natural formations, the Etnfrandians probably had no use for different words for waterfall and fountain. Modern Elvish did have one. 

Mell let her thoughts fade as Fenn started up the waterfall. He hopped up a rock, but slipped on the second shelf and came tumbling down to the bottom. He landed on his back with his arms up, his satchel raised just out of the pooled water.

Mell’s crackling laughter echoed across the cavern. “Very elegant, Mr. Elf.” She stretched out a hand to help him up. “I guess this means you weren’t one of the adolescents the waterfall was named for?”

Fenn flushed even more purple in the violet glow of Syrdin’s orbs. He grasped Mell’s hand and hopped to his feet. “I preferred to go sketching in the Valley.” He wiped droplets off his glasses and went to start again. Syrdin cut him off, a silent acrobat leaping deftly from shelf to slope until zhe landed with a quiet sploop at the top of the waterfall. Zhe stared down pointedly. 

Fenn righted himself and copied zher movement perfectly, his long body easily reaching the same secure jumps zhe had demonstrated for him. No splash at the end. He landed outside the pool above. 

Mell sighed in annoyance. “Very pretty performance, oh dainty elves,” She huffed as she clambered up the fall, hauling her heavy-set frame from shelf to shelf. Sure, it left her a bit out of breath, but that wasn’t too bad for a middle-aged human.

Another cavern awaited them at the top. The ceiling there loomed lower overhead and the walls narrowed. They waded onward for what must’ve been a dozen city blocks, winding around confusing paths until Mell was completely turned around. Then they turned off into a tunnel that led up through the wall. Mell could see why they didn’t bother to secure this route into Ar-Etnfrandia. Only someone who knew the way could navigate this cavern system and come out atop the city. It would be much easier to get lost. Not to mention this was far inside the magical barrier that protected the region.

The rough stone smoothed into a triangular shape and the echoes narrowed with it. Syrdin let zheir lights fade as they started up a spiral staircase at the end. Lanterns were spaced around the place, glowing warmly against hewn stones. Fresh night air beckoned out a window. Fenn stopped on a landing in front of a large pine door and grabbed his boots out of his satchel. Mell felt her breath turn shallow. She spared half a thought for where the ascending stairway led as she pulled her robe back on.  The City of Ar-Etnfrandia. She fidgeted with her belt tassels, her fingers clumsy with excitement. And it has lanterns. 

“Hoods up, you two,” Fenn instructed, “and pretend you are supposed to be here.”

With that, he opened the door.

Syrdin

The City of Etnfrandia lay before them. Syrdin’s eyes darted around, scanning for danger with practiced scrutiny. At the highest point of the city, on their left, a grand entrance had been carved out of the mountain. Its asymmetrical design might have blended with the natural rockface if it weren’t for images of trees, flowers, and creatures carved in it. Along the edge of a cavernous archway, a stone antelope was depicted at various stages of ascent, poised as though bounding in graceful leaps. 

Syrdin did a double-take of a stone sentinel of the Everguard standing in front of the archway, details so accurate that it could have been a soldier turned to stone. The smooth natural rock at his feet rolled into a huge cobbled terrace cracked with trees and flowers. Streetlights in the shape of trees cast silver light across this upper courtyard. Buildings, tall and uneven, protruded like rocky outcroppings made elegant with vines, moss, and crystalline windows. The  few guards who stood posted atop the walls seemed to pay no mind to the three of them. 

“Beautiful,” Mell breathed beside zhem. 

Arsdark take me if these Everguards haven’t become overly comfortable. Zhe scanned for a sign that any of them were truly alert. Zhe found none.  

“This way.” Fenn beckoned to them from a few feet toward the right. “We’re going there.” He pointed to a large structure of half stone, half a slanting slab of crystal and marble. It sat near the edge of the courtyard, placed partially behind another building. Its entrance sat in plain view of both the wall and the terrace. Very little cover at its main entrance. In case of emergency, best to vacate from the rear. 

Fenn strode forward at a steady, businesslike pace, acting as though this whole night escapade were routine. The faint twitch of his hands, his thumbs rubbing his fingers, gave away the truth: he was riddled with anxiety. 

Syrdin fell into step behind Mell. Her gaze was fixed on the opposite side of the courtyard where a group of elves stood talking and laughing around a firepit. One of them struck up a lyrical ditty, and two more started dancing together. The easy flow of it seemed to invite others to join in with a too-powerful draw. It was as if they rode the border of an enchantment, fingers reaching toward a magic that, unbeknownst to them, was readily available if they would only grasp it.

And Fenn claims these elves know no magic. They aren’t so different from us. 

Mell took a step in that direction before turning away. Syrdin half-smiled. Zhe could only imagine the uproar it would cause if zhe and Mell threw off their hoods and joined in.

As they neared their destination, Fenn slowed. “Syrdin,” he said, “once we go in, I need you to scout around and find out if anyone is left in the building and their whereabouts. Let us know if there are any guards present. The items we desire are displayed on the main floor, where anyone passing through can see. We will wait in the main hall by the White Willow until you report.”

Syrdin gritted zher teeth. Zhe wasn’t impressed with Fenn’s leadership so far. He’d had no plan in the beginning. Their current, rough plan involved the same route for their entry and exit—a poor choice—and now he was relying on zhem, who knew nothing of this place, to scout around. 

 Fenn turned to Mell. “You can divine whether there are traps, right?”

“Yes. Are you expecting there to be traps?” Mell seemed surprised. Perhaps because they supposedly don’t use magic. 

“My father is curator of the building.” Fenn scratched the nape of his neck and grimaced as an apology. “He’s been known to be careful beyond reason.”  

Mell’s expression twisted into a smile. “Well, today we are making him careful within reason.”

Fenn bit his lip. “Let’s hope he doesn’t find that out.”

Great. Zhe’d be marching straight into unknown territory with suspected traps of unknown nature. Potentially magical. Syrdin hoped Fenn had at least a mental contingency plan, because their odds of sneaking up on a sleeping Ink Bat were better. And those things could literally hear for miles. 

Zhe stepped up front as they approached the building. Deep in the shadows next to the door, a figure moved, armor catching a shred of light. “Fenn, there’s a guard at the front door in the shadows.” 

Fenn squinted. “So there is. Follow me.” 

Syrdin trod behind him as he overshot the front door and passed around another structure covered in vines. They circled back and arrived at the rear door. Fenn pulled the long handle. It didn’t budge. Locked. 

“Strange,” he muttered, “it’s like they expected something tonight.”

Really not looking good. “Perhaps they got word that there’s an outsider here.” Syrdin stepped up to the door. Zhe leaned in toward the keyhole and traced it with zheir finger. By the shape, its key would be long and narrow, with many branches curving in all directions. Very elven. Very difficult to pick. Syrdin reached into the recesses of zheir garb and pulled out a lock pick and pressed the tool into the lock. 

Couldn’t Fenn just let us in?

The pick wouldn’t take like this, but zhe might learn the shape. Zhe’d have to deform it to fit the keyhole. After some prodding, zhe pulled out the tool and bent and twisted it til zhe was satisfied. This time, zheir jiggling rendered several clicks. Syrdin tried the door. Still locked. 

Syrdin looked at Fenn, zheir tone flat. “It might save time if you go in the front and let us in. This could take me a while.”

Mell flinched. It seemed she had thought the same, but hadn’t said anything. Fenn looked at his boots and shifted his weight, embarrassed.  

“You are allowed in, right?” Syrdin prompted, frustration leaking into zheir tone. No point in saving his feelings. Zhe was more concerned with saving the job.

“I hadn’t considered splitting up,” he said at last. “ But it’s a good idea. I’ll be right there.” He disappeared around the corner.

Syrdin kept alert. This building was on the outermost part of the upper circle and they could see the city wall some thirty paces away. Struggling pines broke the path between them and the wall. No one passed by. No guard paced that wall's top. Perhaps this job isn’t so dangerous. The wind rustled the branches. Mell’s breath came in shallow gasps. Her eyes were fixed on a tree at the base of the wall. She’s scared, Syrdin realized. 

“There’s no one within line of sight.” Syrdin placed a hand on her shoulder as zhe spoke. “You can relax.”

“Right.” Mell straightened and wrapped her robe tighter, creating wet spots on her hips where the water bled through. A groaning creak told them the door unlocked. It pushed outward toward them. It was not Fenn who stood before them, but a young she-elf with brown hair and tan skin. “Hello,” she practically sang the words, “you must be Syrdin and Mellark. I’m Galendria.”

Syrdin ground zheir teeth and reached for a dagger. The night had taken a dangerous turn after all.