In her purest form, Sabaed was god of neither Warcraft nor Night, but of Darkness and Disruption. Of the five original tribes, only her Night Elves are assigned no celestial body, for their matriarch was formed with none. And the darkness they love most is formed not by a body, but by the lack of one. In the deepest dungeons and darkest caves do they live, hidden from the lights of the heavens.

-Fennorin’s Guide to Elven History, 20th Anniversary Ed. UE 2362

Fennorin

“Fennorin Willowbirth!” His father’s voice echoed across the terrace as Fenn and Gale sped down the empty lanes of the city’s upper ring. The Ceann had seen the empty displays amongst their nation’s treasures. “Guard, stop them! Stop Fennorin!”

Fenn pulled Galendria between two buildings, clinging to its rough wall. Its jagged edges pressed into his back.  She lied for me. He felt a touch of warmth in his racing heart. He’d worry about why later.

“How are we going to get out of here?” she whispered as Fenn peeked around the corner. The guard stood in the middle of the bare stone path, head swiveling, then he dashed away toward the nearest guard post in the wall. No doubt he would alert a squad to start a search party.

Fenn gritted his teeth and suppressed the urge to panic. That’s going to make escaping extremely difficult. If it were just him, he might have surrendered, admitted his failure. But others were relying on him. “If we can just get beneath the city to the caverns, I know the way out.”

“But how are we going to get there? That’s in the complete opposite direction.”

“I have an idea.” Fenn turned his gaze on her, “but I’m going to need you not to panic.” She cocked her head, then nodded. 

Fenn reached one hand forward and swiftly went through a practiced series of gestures, aware that to Galendria, he must look ridiculous. “Meallat lysrn,” he murmured.  His form shifted. His tunic stretched into long robes and his fluffed hair melted into long, dark tresses. Fenn cleared his throat and tried to speak in the deep voice of Belaer Silverstem, her father. “How does it look?”

Gale’s expression of awe fell into a cringe.“You better not speak. It… ruins the illusion.” 

Embarrassment forced him to grin.“Right.” The illusion changed his appearance, but his voice was still his own. “Erm, it’d be best if you stayed out of sight. I still need to get my other friend in.” Fenn chewed his lip. He needed her, a Silverstem, to open the gate. But I don’t want her in more trouble. For a moment, the two desires warred inside him. Like the Great War that ended in Etnfrandia, there emerged a decisive winner. “I don’t suppose you’d help me with that?”

“Oh?” Gale’s face twisted into a smirk, “Now you welcome my involvement?”

No, not really. Fenn sighed. “It’s a little too late otherwise since you’re already implicated.” He dared a peek around the corner to see the silhouettes of a squad rise to the wall, then looked back at her. She seemed small against the craggy slab that walled this building. Yet she appeared to be calm. His own heart was still racing, mostly in dread of what might happen to her and his other friends. “Only, let’s not get caught this time. The consequences would be far worse.”

“I have just the trick. Meet me at the Twin Gate.” With that, she uttered a spell of her own and vanished. Where she once stood, Fenn saw only the empty air behind her.

“Impressive,” he whispered to the air. Is she even there?

“Thanks,” she hissed from behind him. 

He jumped. “Right, see you at the gate.” If she was still there, she didn’t respond. He walked out of the shadows into the streets, straight and dignified in imitation of Ceann Silverstem. 

As he strode through the smaller streets, backtracking toward the caverns, he shoved down thoughts of Mell and Syrdin, of whether they had made it out of the caverns yet, and of Galendria. How she had come by her magic abilities. It wasn’t allowed. He tried to focus. Focus on the task at hand, not how the events of the evening contradicted everything he had believed about his country. How his father had placed an alarm spell. 

Focus.  He rounded a building snarled with vines and spotted guards standing at the great oak door in the bastion from which he’d led the others earlier. The alarm had spread, and the way was guarded. Please have let Syrdin and Mell escape safely. 

Fenn started to turn. There was no way they would let anyone down into the caverns now. Well, perhaps a Ceann, but not without Fenn having to speak.

“Ceann Silverstem!” a guard called out from atop the wall. 

In a stab of panic, Fenn recognized the voice as his step-brother’s, his mother’s step-son. No, Fenn shook himself, that’s a human distinction. My brother. Whatever their relation, he knew Fenn. Any familiar gesture or hint of his own voice would betray him. 

Dysren beckoned him over. “Please, sir.”

Oh no. Oh gods, no. Fenn steadied his breath and assumed the posture of a worried father, wringing his hands and furrowing his brows. He forced his face upward toward his brother and stepped forward. Please let my appearance be enough.

“Has the situation been explained, Ceann?” Dysren asked with his head lowered further than necessary to look down the wall at Fenn. It was a gesture of respect he was not accustomed to receiving.

Fenn nodded, slow and dignified. He tried to hold still, waiting for Dysren to continue. They’re eyes locked, and Fenn forced himself not to avert his gaze. He set his jaw and refused to fidget. 

Dysren did not continue, waiting for Fenn–well, the Ceann–to speak first. Please, Boidhan, Cialmara, any of you, please don’t let it end here. Fenn swallowed hard and choked out a hoarse whisper. “My daughter,” he prayed the hoarseness would disguise his voice, “is there news of her yet?”

“No, Ceann,” Dysren stared at the ground as if embarrassed by the supposed Ceann’s show of emotion. Or perhaps by the lack of news. “Nothing yet.”

It worked?! Fenn nodded slightly and waved his hand like he’d seen Belaer do so many times. He turned to go. He would not test the limits of this mercy.

“For what it’s worth, Ceann,” Dysren spoke quickly, then stopped, “if I may?” 

Fenn nodded, still half-turned away. His feet itched to flee. 

“My brother, Fennorin— I am confident he means no harm to anyone. Especially not to your daughter. Fenn… well… he is odd, but I don’t believe he would put her in danger, not even her honor. Or, not on purpose.”

Fenn’s eyes watered. He and Dysren weren’t close by any means. They were on good terms, but they’d become brothers through a marriage that occurred while Fenn was away and had only known each other for a brief six years. It warmed Fenn that this step-brother would speak up to a Ceann on his behalf, and to no benefit of his own. Are there people I could have trusted?

“Thank you,” Fenn croaked, barely remembering not to nod, not bow, as he walked away.

He stepped quickly, trying to remain graceful and noble as he neared a trot. His brother was correct. Fenn had never wanted to get Gale mixed in this. And he did not want to bring harm to anyone. Reconnecting with their history and the pantheon should make their people stronger. It should lead them to rediscover the powerful magic that allowed them to create their nation in the first place.

He hoped Gale would go back to her father after she opened the gate. She could report Fenn and call off the matroniage. Her reputation wouldn’t go untarnished, but it would do much to save face. It was not like they had any emotional bond. Not beyond a dusty friendship.

Another guard tried to approach him as he passed from the upper circle to the middle, but Fenn waved his hand to deter her and walked on. His feet carried him swiftly through the familiar streets of his childhood. The lowest circle had more hewn homes than the other tiers. Sometime in the last millennia, Etnfrandians had become less concerned with natural appearances. He passed these and their lower gate. Some homes had even cropped up outside the lower city wall, dotting the slope between clusters of trees. 

By the time he’d left the last homes behind and reached the Twin Gate, the Western Wanderer had crested his cosmic path and turned his staff back toward the earth. The sheen of the barrier gleamed softly against the sky between the Twin Trees. No guards stood at the gate. Unusual. He trotted down the earthen path, recalling his own long nights stationed there over a century ago.

“Gale?” Fenn called out to the darkness.

“Over here.” The voice came from beside the operating tree. 

Fenn breathed a sigh of relief. We just might pull off this escape.

Galendria

She’d set the guards chasing after her disembodied voice. Now Fenn needed to show up quickly or they might return before he could fetch his protection. A familiar silhouette trotted down the packed-earth path, ceremonial robes swishing. Her father, but his gate was wrong. Gale held her breath, waiting to hear Fenn’s voice.

“Gale?” 

She smiled at the oddity of hearing Fenn’s high, stilted voice come out of that regal face. “Over here.” She kept her voice low, just in case.

The illusion of her father melted off him like wax dripping off a candle, then dissipated. “Thank the gods.” He started walking towards her. 

The gods? Gale shook off the oddity of the magic, and the phrase. Surely Fenn is not religious now. ”Go get your friend, quickly!” She waved him down the path. “The guards will come back soon.” She could worry about his new oddities later.

Fear crossed his face. “Right!” he squeaked and sped away.

Cute. He hadn’t changed all that much since their youthful days running around in the forest. Never practical, but always quick to act on a good idea. Gale took up her post at the tree. She grabbed her sigil in her hand and pressed it into the keyhole, studying the enchanted ring of runes beneath. When Fenn returned, she’d place her hand in the center and activate the magic. She had tried, for her father’s sake, to understand the enchantment with no success. Fenn had gained much knowledge in the study of magical items. Perhaps he could make sense of these runes. She had never thought, nor dared, to ask before.

Maybe, once we come back. She furrowed her brow, unable to recall when she had decided to go with him. Well, I don’t want him to leave me behind. She sighed. The Great Moon hung low in the sky and was beginning to take on a yellow hue. It had been a long night, and waiting only made it seem longer. Likely only a few minutes had passed since Fenn had left. She heard a sudden clanging in the forest coming from the other side of the barrier. 

Gale choked on her breath. 

There was Fenn, dashing toward the path, but he was being chased by a snarly, blue monster.

It was scaly, and though it was only slightly taller than Fenn, its hulking torso, curved back, and too-long arms loomed much larger. It stalked him from its hind legs, which were bent awkwardly like a four-legged creature’s. Several horn-like spines protruded from its head. The clanging, she realized as it approached, emanated from a huge sack slung over its shoulder. Thankfully, it wore brown breeches that went past its knees–if you could call those knees. What in the deep earth and broad skies?

Fenn didn’t seem alarmed as he ran. Her mouth dropped open. No.

This is Fenn’s friend. She gathered her dignity and opened the gate. Be open-minded.

They ran past her, away from the path. She rounded the twin tree, unable to peel her gaze from the strange creature. She followed them a safe distance from the gate to a cluster of spruce trees. What language does this creature speak? It must speak, right?

Fenn turned to her and started speaking in Allspeech. “Ah, Galendria, this is Kridarnn, a good friend of mine from Brikhvarnn. Erm. Krid–” Fenn turned to the giant lizard-man and seemed to lose his confidence, stumbling on his introductions ``...this is… well, this is my–”

Cree-darn? Her father’s training had helped her before with Mell. It did not fail her now. Galendria put on her most winsome smile. “—Betrothed, I’m his betrothed, Galendria. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” Was that right, Atti? She bowed in the polite way one did when unsure of the other’s status relative to their own.

The creature reached a fist across his bare, white chest in a salute-like gesture, then hesitated and copied her movement. “Same to you, miss. And thanks for opening the gate.” His voice was throaty, but otherwise not noticeably different from any other humanoid.

She hid her surprise in a smile. “A breeze’s bliss.” 

He blinked, an unnerving movement of transparent lids across his eyes at an angle. She suppressed a shutter. Atti, you did not prepare me for that.

Fenn scratched at his ear where his glasses rested–a sign he felt unsure. “She means she was happy to do it.”

“Oh, right then,” Kridarnn’s smile exposed pointed teeth.

She tried to match his expression. He’s terrifying. “So, Fenn, what are we doing next?”

“We?” He hesitated. “I guess now I’ll take Krid to the passage between the realms, and then I’ll try to find the others.”

As he spoke, Gale spotted two shadows charging out from the treeline further up the ridge. “I think I can help with that, too.” She pointed.

Krid sniffed the air loudly. “More friends of yours?”

To be continued...