The Knife's Edge (51 page)

Outside the world was dazzlingly bright. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to take in the scene. Upon the lush green grass, villagers danced to a trio of musicians that strolled amongst them. Suddenly, from the crowd, a small girl with brown plaited braids ran up to him. She handed him a fistful of wild flowers and he recognized her. It was the little girl from the golden walkway, the one he had saved. Relief flooded him, and an invisible weight fell from his shoulders. The villagers are safe at last. He bent accepting the flowers with a smile, and the little girl ran off giggling.

Suddenly, a familiar voice called out.

Gray turned to see Mistress Hitomi approaching. She wore a long white dress under a turquoise sheath belted with braided gold, and her shiny black hair was elaborately piled on top of her head. He raised a hand in greeting, but without warning she embraced him. Gray struggled to keep his balance, trying not to grimace with pain as she squeezed him with more strength than he anticipated. “So happy to see that the elvin air agrees with you!”

He laughed and rubbed his side. “I’m glad to see you too!” He looked to the villagers. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

She nodded, “Indirectly. One of my books from my library mentioned a secret pathway to the Gates. The same tunnels you took I believe. However, ours was a more dangerous path I believe, but it was necessary. It got us to the Gates swiftly, but the way was not without peril.”

He was curious. What unnamed danger had they encountered on their path that could make a woman like Mistress Hitomi afraid?

She smiled warmly. “On a lighter note, since arriving here in Farhaven I’ve been able to peddle a few of my tomes. I plan to use the coin for a new establishment. There are always visitors who need a place to sleep and a pint of ale.”

“And I’ve no doubt you will build a wonderful inn for them,” he said. “By the way, how long was I out?” he asked, eyeing the many tents. It was as if a makeshift town had sprung up overnight.

“Six nights. The elves did everything they could for you. Your wound, however, was beyond the Queen’s abilities,” Mistress Hitomi motioned to his stomach, “Fortunately, a higher elvin healer from Eldas arrived just in time. Though even with his aid, we were worried for you. There have been some who have sat by your bed and fretted the whole while.”

“Who?” he asked.

“Who do you think? The young man got so underfoot that the Queen finally sent him on an errand.”

Gray imagined the sight and it made him laugh. He looked up as a group of boys and girls ran by, chasing one another. He handed Hitomi the bunch of flowers the little girl had given him. “For you,” he said, “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“Thank you, Gray. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m off to make arrangements for the new inn. And I imagine you have a lot of people to see. I am sure I will be seeing you soon,” she said with a wink, and walked off.

Still dazed and feeling as if he were dreaming, he looked around. There were more people than he remembered. Their ranks had swelled by leaps and bounds, and he recognized many of the people as inhabitants of the Shining City. Gray wove through the villagers who danced around a large bonfire that burned in the bright midday sun. They moved to the sound of flutes, a pounding dulcimer, and a peculiar horned-instrument. Above the music a familiar voice boomed. Balder stood there upon a box, gesturing wildly with his hands. A captive audience gathered around him listening with wide-eyes. His voice carried over their heads. “You should have seen ‘em run …an explosion to scare the most hideous verg!” Gray grinned at seeing the man who was no doubt glorifying his escapades. He wanted to thank him for his diversion at the Sodden Tunnels, but he veered away. He had more important matters to attend to first. With luck, there would be time for revelry later.

As he went deeper into the camp, he was surprised by the numerous tents, poled lines for tethered horses, well-constructed troughs, and the sounds of blacksmiths’ hammers. He sensed a weight in the air. Something was brewing.

As he entered a stand of low-lying tents of forest hues, he slowed to a halt. Here, elves moved with purpose, with little to no humans in their midst. Each nearby tent bore the mark of a leaf. He thought of Maris and his throat tightened. A tall elf glided past. He took in the elf’s green-plated armor that appeared molded to his skin, while a shiny gold fragment was pinned on his chest. His long yellow hair fell around his face, highlighting his strange golden eyes and pale skin. Gray reached out and grabbed the elf’s arm. The elf threw a hand to one of the slim blades that swung at his hips. But as he looked to Gray, the elf immediately dropped his hand from his sword.

“Excuse me, I need to find…” he said and then paused. She was no longer simply Karil, he remembered. “Can you tell me where the Queen’s tent is located?”

“It’s you,” the elf whispered and fell to one knee, placing a fist upon the grass as he bowed his head.

Before Gray could speak, he looked up and saw the eyes staring at him. The sudden silence thundered in his ears. Recognition spread across the elves faces, and one by one, they dropped to one knee, their armor rustling.

“Eminas al servius,” they said as one.

Gray worked his mouth, but nothing came out. “Rise,” he said at last. None moved. He knelt before the golden-haired elf pulling him to his feet. “Please rise. You do not need to bow to me.” The elf rose. Gray had a thousand and one questions, and he didn’t know where to begin. First, he needed to find Karil. “Where is the Queen’s tent? Please, it’s urgent.”

The elf’s pale lips curved. “Of course. She is waiting for you,” he announced. “I will take you there.”

They moved away from the kneeling elves, and Gray felt his damp brow. Behind he heard the ring of hammers resume. As they wove deeper into the thicket of tents, more elves moved about, striding with urgency. They carried maps, baskets of food, and bundles of supplies, and they all wielded weapons, curved bows, and silvery swords. Gray looked at the elf beside him, “You said the queen was waiting. How did she know?”

“Ah, the queen is young but wise,” the elf said, “just like her father, a great leader, one who I served for many years. She knows the Eminas will play a part in the coming battle. It is prophecy.”

“Prophecy…” he cursed under his breath. Of course, and yet it was the very reason he sought Karil. The elf raised a curious brow. Gray had forgotten about their heightened senses. He changed the subject. “What’s your name?”

“Temian.”

“I am—”

“Gray,” Temian interrupted. “A strange custom you humans have, that of exchanging names. It is not done with my people. We believe that individuals should be able to communicate who they are without a name, but for the Eminas, I would tell my birth name.”

He frowned, “Then why have names at all?” He pretended not to hear the elf’s title for him and it seemed a contradiction.

The elf shrugged, “At birth, truthfully, we all look alike. We feel names should be like secrets, a precious thing, like a polished stone held deep inside that only those deserving should know.”

It was a beautiful concept, Gray thought, and all the more intriguing in light of his struggle with his own identity. “Then, is it still all right if I call you Temian?”

The elf raised a brow as they walked, “Yes, Eminas, you may.”

Again, he refused to ask what this Eminas business meant. And as they moved through the tents, closer to his goal, he could not help but feel as if he was willingly trudging deeper into the lion’s den. All the more reason, he thought resolutely. No longer will I be controlled, not by the prophecy, not by anyone. “Temian, you mentioned that you served the queen’s father. What happened to him?”

The elf tensed with anger in his normally placid features. “King Gias was murdered over one month ago, in the middle of a great meeting. Before his death he called a meeting with the nations to discuss the brewing strife. When during the Exchanging of Cups, he choked and fell dead before all. The High Councilor, Dryan, assumed the throne as the false king.” Temian took a deep breath. “What is more, the king’s death was only two weeks after our beloved queen, his wife, was taken from us in the final moment of prophecy. It was almost too much to bear for our people. From there things only worsened. After Dryan seized control he found no need for the rest of the High Council’s advice and swiftly disposed of them. He even killed those who had nominated him, as well as any and all who whispered dissent. Thousands died.” Temian’s voice was hollow.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. All this time Karil had borne this pain.

“It was a tragic thing, but in that moment the princess, forgive me, the Queen, stepped forth when we most needed her, courageous and strong just like her father, the true king. With little support, she challenged the High Councilor, and swayed those loyal to her side. This only aggravated Dryan. He bears more likeness to monsters than elves. In the wake of the chaos, he sent assassins, the Terma.” Then Temian’s face changed to one of pride. “I and the other Lando, or brethren in your tongue, came to the Queen’s aid and helped her escape from our woods. She sought refuge beyond the Gates while we laid our plans for Eldas’ survival—to return our beautiful land to peace and prosperity.”

Gray was bolstered by the elf’s words, and he appreciated Karil’s resolve all the more. “I apologize for your loss, and while it seems you may have lost a king, you have gained a fine queen in return.”

“You speak truth, Eminas.”

“Forgive me for asking another question. You were at the Gates to help us, and I am thankful for that, but what led you there? Your timing was perfect.”

Temian laughed, “I didn’t believe it at first, but we were informed by a hawk of all things. Elves can tell much from a bird’s flight, and this was no ordinary bird.”

It couldn’t be… How did the hawk know? All this time I thought the creature had disappeared. Gray laughed to himself and his guide looked to him strangely. “I suppose, in a way, I was a part of that,” he replied.

Abruptly, his guide stopped. “We’re here.”

They stood before a tent—twice the height of the others. Its colorful canvas bore a large insignia on one flap that he could not decipher, and on the other a leaf just like Maris’ cloak.

Two guards stood stone-faced before the tent’s large entrance. Their tall pole arms planted to the ground while heavy steel blades gleamed in the light of the sun. A strange tension sat in the air, like the dawn before an imminent battle. He sensed Karil and Rydel within and he embraced the nexus. He marveled as currents of air moved differently around his elvin friend. The elf bowed. “I shall see you soon, Eminas.”

They clasped forearms. “Good luck to you, Temian, and thank you.”

“With the Eminas, luck is already on our side,” Temian replied, “Until next I see you, my friend.” With that, the elf blended back into the bustle of warriors.

Standing before the tent, Gray let the threads of the flow sift through his hands as if he had done it a hundred times before. It was becoming a familiar thread. He slipped the threads beneath the tent and suddenly, voices filled his ears.

“What news of the realm?” Karil, Gray knew immediately.

“Dire news, my Queen,” said another. “The world is in an uproar. The peaceful tribes of the north have banded together, and turned savage. They raid the northern provinces, the peaceful towns and villages all along the Frizzian coast. The southern kingdoms fair no better. Ester and Menalas have erupted into civil war. They fight for a throne that’s been lost for more than two thousand years. The reports of bloodshed span all across the Aster Plains, almost to the foothills of the Farbian desert.”

There was a small silence until Karil replied, “The tribes together is ominous enough, but Menalas and Ester? Are you certain of this? I spare no love for the Menalas Council—in fact I will be the first to admit they are great fools, but the High Elder Fari? She alone would know that the great Kingdoms would never allow their union. Their vast power in the Lieon as a result of their iron mines was far too difficult to overturn.”

“It is only rumors, my queen, but all reports whisper the same.”

He heard Karil sigh. “And what of the Great Kingdoms? Where are the peacekeepers in all of this?” she questioned angrily.

The messenger’s voice darkened, “Treachery. The Kingdoms see insidious acts from the inside out, just like Eldas all over again. What’s more, the Citadel is even more quiet than usual.”

“And at a time like this…” the elvin queen whispered, as if to herself. “And what of the armies of Farhaven?”

Gray could almost feel the messenger’s gaze sink at Karil’s penetrating voice. “The Covai Riders and Median’s Warfleet are still intact, and King Garian is holding his kingdom together with an iron fist and still has a standing army, but that is not the issue. According to all reports, they know not who or what to fight—it is like an invisible demon is sowing strife in all the four corners of the world. Farbs seems to be the only kingdom that has not suffered too much damage.”

“Farbs, Eldas, Median, and Covai are the Great Kingdoms,” a voice seethed. Gray knew it was Rydel. “At all costs, they cannot fall or the whole world will tremble on the brink of ruin.”

“I know this,” Karil said quietly. Though not unkind, it was full of gravity. “King Garian holds strong, that is news to bolster the heart at least. He, and the Kingdom of Water, have always been a force to be reckoned with. We must send word to him at once of Eldas and Dryan’s treachery, if he does not know. He has always been loyal to my family and loved my father dearly. Tell him, I am ready to fight for what is mine. And say it like that exactly.”