Lariole groomed the chestnut stallion, running her brush through his mane and rubbing him gently with a pale violet hand. He snorted happily and poked his nose toward her, sniffing about.
“Hey!” Lariole laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t bring you any treats today, Zendellor.”
The horse gave her a long look with plaintive eyes.
“Oh, come on.” Lariole rolled her eyes. “If you want more treats, you’re just going to have to come get them yourself. And don’t even give me anything about using human form being demeaning. You can’t fit through doorways as a horse.”
Zendellor snagged a lock of blue hair in his teeth and tugged.
“Hey! Hey!” Lariole pushed him away. “Abyss, how many times do I have to tell you to lay off the hair?” She retreated a few steps and straightened her hair. “Yeah, I know, I need to cut it again, but you don’t need to be a dick about it. That does it, no treats for you for a week.”
Zendellor gave her a sad look again.
Lariole sighed. “Fine. I’ll bring you some treats tomorrow.”
Whickering, Zendellor turned to look off into the distance, toward the road approaching the estate, turning his ears in that direction.
“What is it? Is someone coming?” Lariole turned around.
Two figures on foot walked up along the road toward the Chelseer Estate. One of them looked to be a green-haired elf woman, while the other was a human man with a lute strapped to his back. An odd pairing, but she supposed she couldn’t talk. After all, her best friend was a rahi. Pity, really. The girl was pretty cute.
Lariole set aside her horse grooming materials and ran out to meet them, almost catching her cloak on the stable door in her haste.
“Hi!” Lariole exclaimed as she skidded to a halt in the dirt in front of them. “I’m Lariole Chelseer. Welcome to Wishingsdale.”
The green-haired girl laughed softly. “So you are here, Lariole Chelseer. I’m Keolah Kedaire.”
“Oh, no need to stand on formality,” Lariole said. “Kedaire? Are you Rezaline Isbar’s daughter?”
Keolah nodded. “Yes, Rezaline is my mother.”
“So we’re cousins, then!” Lariole said. “But not too close of cousins. More like… fifth cousins or something like that.”
Keolah laughed aloud. “That’s barely cousins, then. Pretty sure every elf in Rascalanse is fifth cousin to every other.”
The human man snickered and cleared his throat. “Well, I’m Delven Thrack. As we say in my language, pleased to meet you.”
“Hey, I totally speak humanish,” Lariole said. “Finally, a chance to try it out on someone other than the local villagers! They don’t like when I try to talk to them. How’s this?” She cleared her throat. “Female dog nipples.”
Delven blinked. “Well. Um. That was certainly something.”
“How’s my accent?” Lariole asked.
Keolah giggled and tried to hide her mouth with a hand.
“Your accent is fine,” Delven said smoothly.
Lariole put her hands on her hips. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Not at all,” Delven said with a broad smile. “But did you learn anything that isn’t profanity?”
“Why would I do a thing like that? All I use it for is to cuss in front of my mother.”
“Never mind,” Delven said lightly.
“I’d imagine if you ever wanted to travel in human lands, you’d want to be able to speak their language,” Keolah said. “But if you plan to never leave your village, that’s probably not a relevant consideration.”
Lariole put a hand on her chin and looked to the ground. “I never thought of that. You really think I could? Travel in human lands? I’ve traveled all over Rascalanse, but there’s not much of any real interest to be found here. I had to make up most of my adventures.”
She thought back to the days whiled away between her and Zendellor as they battled imaginary pirates and bandits in the hills of Rascalanse. He got a real kick out of pretending to be a dragon, too. But Mother said she’d outgrown all those childish games, and had probably wished they’d never gone out in the first place.
Keolah nodded. “Yeah, we’re on our way out of here. We’re just stopping in here before we make for Hranon Cut.”
“Ugh, you don’t want to go out that way,” Lariole said. “It leads right out into the Hlayan desert.”
“Do you have any better suggestions?” Keolah asked. “Better the desert than Flyland.”
Lariole bit her lip. Did she really want to tell them? She’d never told anyone but Zendellor. She looked around shiftily and lowered her voice. “I know a better way. I’ve never been too far past it, but I’m pretty sure it opens out into Hannaderres. It’s a secret, though, so don’t tell anyone.”
“Our lips are sealed,” Keolah said.
“I’ll show you later, promise,” Lariole said. “Right now, you’re probably hungry. How long as it been since you ate?”
“Breakfast, I think,” Delven said. “We were just going to go stop by the inn—”
“Nonsense!” Lariole grabbed Keolah’s hand and started dragging her toward the manor. “No fifth cousin of mine is going to have to eat at an inn in this town.”
The Chelseer Estate was a larger tree-dwelling than Keolah had ever seen. It sprawled out over the hills, branching out into multiple distinct wings, and even encompassed what looked to be a stable on the ground floor, containing a horse with a red aura. Strange; animals didn’t usually have auras quite so bright, but this horse had one as vivid as any human or elf.
Inside the building, she detected only two other auras at the moment: one violet, and one cyan— a similar color to that of the adorable elf girl who was pulling her inside.
“Mom! Dad! I want you to meet my new friends!”
Lariole was the sort of girl who considered people she’d known for ten minutes to be ‘friends’, apparently. Shaking her head in bemusement, Keolah went in to meet Lariole’s parents. introductions all around led to attaching the name Kiorden to the man with the cyan aura and Dennole to the woman with the violet aura.
“It’s nice to see that two people of different races can get along,” Kiorden said. “I’d hope that we should see more of that.”
“But not too much,” Dennole put in. “Making friends is nice and all, but you shouldn’t marry one another. People should stick to their own kind. We already have too many half-breed children running around.”
“Moooooom,” Lariole whined. “Don’t be rude. They’re our guests!”
“We’re… just friends,” Keolah said in a strained voice. “We weren’t planning on getting married or having children.”
Dinner was delicious, but awkward. Keolah was cautious and uneasy about what she said in front of Dennole, and mostly kept quiet, letting Delven fill in the silence and, indeed, drown out Dennole for the most part with tales and songs. Music was definitely better by far than arguments. She’d gotten more than enough of those at home.
“So, how long will you be in Wishingsdale?” Lariole asked.
“I wasn’t really planning on hanging around too long,” Keolah said. “And I wouldn’t want to impose or anything.”
“Nonsense,” Lariole said. “You can stay here as long as you’d like. Stick around for a few days. I can show you everything!”
“Well, alright, I suppose there’s no harm in it,” Keolah said with a grin. “And we’re going to need to restock, anyway. I’ve got a canteen of endless water, but I don’t like having to use Earth Magic to fast-grow food unless it’s an emergency.”
“Mom’s kind of a drag, but you’ve got to meet Zendellor,” Lariole said, grabbing her hand and dragging her outside again. Delven trailed along behind them.
Keolah laughed. “I can walk, you know. Who’s Zendellor?”
Lariole released her. “He’s my best friend. We grew up together, really.”
“Just a friend?” Keolah asked.
“Just a friend,” Lariole insisted. “I’m not interested in men, and even if I were, I hate to sound racist or anything, but I wouldn’t be interested in one who identifies as a horse.”
Keolah blinked. “What?”
They rounded the corner and went into the stable, where that horse with the red aura Keolah had spotted before was lightly dozing on its feet. His, she should say, really.
“Hey, Zendellor!” Lariole called out. “Meet my new friends, Keolah and Delven.”
The stallion snorted softly and examined the visitors critically.
Delven bowed suavely. “And a good day to you, too, my good equine.”
“Do you get this?” Keolah quietly asked him aside.
“Not a clue,” Delven said brightly.
Lariole laughed aloud. “He’s a rahi. Horse shifter. Zendellor, you know, you can just tell them yourself.”
The horse rolled his eyes.
“Oh, fine, be like that,” Lariole said. “The rahi—” she cleared her throat, “—are a race of highly arrogant, obnoxious, and pig-headed—”
The horse glared at her, swishing his tail.
“Mulish?” Lariole smirked.
The horse drew his ears back and bared his teeth.
Lariole laughed and stepped back, raising her hands. “Sorry.”
“You might want to be careful who you mention him to,” Delven said. “How many people know about him?”
“Not many, but I can trust you guys, right?” Lariole replied.
“Of course.” Keolah glanced aside to Delven. “Is there a problem with shapeshifters?”
“Just that he should be glad he’s in here in Rascalanse,” Delven said. “Where there’s elves who aren’t going to hate and distrust him just for being able to shapeshift.”
“W-What?” Lariole spun around to face him. “You don’t hate him, do you?”
Delven shook his head. “Of course not. But I am an enlightened and educated gentleman, knowledgeable and well-traveled.”
Lariole smirked at him.
Delven went on, “I’ve never met a shapeshifter before, that I know of, so this is an honor. I’ve probably actually met plenty, but I don’t imagine most would let on for fear of being killed.”
The horse’s aura shifted, and in a moment, a young man stood in the stable. He looked like any other human, his pale blond hair neatly groomed, his skin the same shade of chestnut as his fur had been, and wearing ordinary clothes that he definitely had not been wearing before.
“Why would anyone want to kill me?” the young man wondered.
“I suppose you haven’t heard the old stories,” Delven said, inclining his head toward the rahi.
“Not much,” Zendellor said. “I was told to always hide what I was. Nobody ever told me why. I only ever even revealed myself to Lariole because she saved my life.”
Delven pulled out his lute. “Shall I tell you a story, then?”
“You don’t have to sing it,” Lariole said flatly.
“I wasn’t going to,” Delven said. “Anything with proper rhyme and meter would have been in the common tongue or in Hlayan, and you don’t speak either.”
“Hlayan?” Lariole repeated.
“The language of the southern desert,” Delven explained.
“You mean there are more languages I could be learning to cuss in?” Lariole’s eyes widened.
Zendellor rolled his eyes. “I’m so glad that you don’t have a tail and your ears aren’t flexible enough to be obscene to a horse.”
Delven strummed at his lute. “Long ago—”
“How long ago?” Lariole interjected.
“I’m not really sure,” Delven said.
“Closer to like ten years long-ago, or a hundred years long-ago, or what?” Lariole pressed.
“Thousands of years, at least,” Delven said. “Anyway, long ago—”
“If it was that long ago, how do you know what happened?” Lariole asked.
“Because people told people, who told people, who told people, for generation after generation, and passed down the stories told by bards still today.”
“Well, if it has gone through so many people, how do you know it’s still accurate?” Lariole asked.
“They did write stuff down, too,” Delven said. “Most of the writings were lost, too, though. But yes. There’s no guarantee how accurate any of this is. Anyway. Long ago—”
“Wait,” Lariole interjected again.
Delven sighed. “Yes, Lariole?”
“I need to go water a bush,” Lariole said. “Can we start this story in just a minute?”
Zendellor put his face in his palm.
Delven tuned his lute and Keolah leaned against a wall, patiently waiting for Lariole to do her business and come back.
Lariole returned hurriedly, straightening her trousers. “Alright, I’m ready. Go ahead.”
“Are you sure?” Delven asked.
“Yes, yes, I’m ready,” Lariole said. “Tell your story.”
“You don’t need anything else?” Delven asked. “A drink of water? Some snacks, maybe?”
Lariole glared at him. “Come ooooon, just tell the story.”
“Alright, alright.” Delven strummed his lute. “Long ago, the land of Albrynnia ruled a great and powerful empire. It spanned two continents and the Sunrise Islands.”
Lariole fidgeted. “What does this have to do with the shapeshifters?”
“I’m getting to that,” Delven said. “I’ll make this brief. The Mother of Monsters let forth an army of monsters and destroyed the empire.”
“Who?” Lariole asked.
“The Mother of Monsters,” Delven said. “We don’t speak her name.”
“Why not?” Lariole asked. “And is she any relation to Aeris, the Mother Goddess?”
“No relation,” Delven said. “And we don’t speak her name for fear of attracting her attention.”
“But what is her name?” Lariole asked. “If you don’t speak her name, how does anyone even know what it is anymore?”
“Because we write it down,” Delven said. “Not speak it aloud. Do you want me to write it down for you? Or can you not read?”
Zendellor laughed. “Burn.”
“I’ll take your word on it,” Lariole said, rolling her eyes. “I’d probably just do something stupid and say it and we’d all get chuckle-stomped by monsters or something.”
“Probably for the best,” Keolah said.
“So, it must have taken a long time for her to give birth to that many monsters,” Lariole said. “Or did she have them in litters? How many monsters come in a litter?”
“I don’t think she was literally the mother of all those monsters,” Delven said. “I’m sure it was just a figurative title or something.”
“Anyway, I don’t see what any of this has to do with the shapeshifters,” Lariole said.
“People generally consider the various types of shapeshifters to be among her children,” Delven said.
“Oh.” Lariole glanced over at Zendellor, who returned a wide-eyed gaze. “I don’t think you’re a monster.”
“Thanks,” Zendellor said. “I think.”
“And I’m certainly not going to hurt you or hate you for it,” Delven said. “And I doubt Keolah knew anything about the history of Kalor and Albrynnia either.”
“I did not,” Keolah said. “But it sounds absolutely fascinating and I want to learn more.”
Lariole cocked her head and looked at her, then giggled. “You’re weird. Cute, but weird.”
“Lariole!” Mom exclaimed as Lariole entered the kitchen. “Did you just wake up? It’s past noon!”
“No, I’ve totally been awake for hours,” Lariole lied drowsily. “I just didn’t feel like eating yet.”
“You were up late playing with your new friends, weren’t you,” Mom said accusingly.
“It wasn’t really ‘playing’…” Lariole tried to evade her long enough to get to the cupboard, but despite her small size, Mom somehow managed to block the whole kitchen.
“You’ve been doing nothing but play with them for the past week,” Mom said. “I bet you haven’t even cleaned the stable yet like you were supposed to.”
“The stable is totally clean,” Lariole grumbled.
“Well, despite your frivolous behavior and general carelessness, you’ll be happy to know I’ve made some arrangements.”
“What sort of arrangements?” Lariole asked dubiously.
“You know Rellan?” Mom asked. “Rellan Chelseer? About your age, purple hair?”
“The prat?” Lariole replied. “Yeah, I remember him. What about him?”
“He’ll be here on Woodsday,” Mom replied. “I got a message to him, and he’s thrilled at the opportunity.”
“What opportunity?” Lariole grated.
“You’re to be married on Starday,” Mom replied cheerfully.
“What?” Lariole shrieked.
“I could move up the ceremony to Woodsday, though, if that’s too long to wait,” Mom said.
“Mooooooom!”
“He’s quite the catch, don’t you think?” Mom commented. “You should be glad to have such a handsome, strong husband. You’ll make fine children together.”
“But I like girls!”
“I’m sure Rellan won’t mind if continue your dalliances once you’ve produced an heir,” Mom said. “If you must. I’m sure he’ll be doing so, as well. I hear he likes other men. Believe me, I’ve considered this, and I’m sure the two of you will be happiest this way.”
“He’s my second cousin!” Lariole retorted.
“Yes, of course,” Mom said. “As you’re an only child and I can’t have any more children, you’ll need to marry into a cadet branch of the family to carry on the family line.”
“I’m not getting married!” Lariole yelled. “And even if I got married, it wouldn’t be to a man. And even if I got married to a man, it wouldn’t be my second cousin. And even if I wanted to marry a second cousin, it wouldn’t be that second cousin. He’s a prat!”
“Oh, I’m sure he won’t be so bad once you get to know him.”
Breakfast forgotten, Lariole looked for a way out of the kitchen, but her mother was now blocking the doorway.
“He dumped me in a ditch once,” Lariole said.
“Boys will be boys.” Mom shrugged.
“He made fun of me for liking swords and wanting to be an adventurer.”
Mom sniffed. “As well he should. You should give up those aspirations. They’re not very ladylike. I would have hoped that you’d have outgrown them by now.”
Lariole took a deep breath and steeled herself. “No.”
“No?” Mom repeated.
“No,” Lariole said. “No, I will not marry him. No, I will not give up my aspirations. You cannot force me to do this.”
“You’ll be—”
Lariole slipped out the window, dropping three floors and lightly landing like a feather.
“Hey!” Mom put her head out the window and called down after her. “Come back here! I’m not done talking to you yet!”
Ignoring her, Lariole raced for the stable.
Zendellor shifted form as she ran in. “What’s wrong?”
“Mom’s trying to make me get married.”
“What?” Zendellor asked. “That was sudden.”
“No shit,” Lariole said. “I think she’s afraid I’m going to run off with Keolah and Delven on some great adventure and abandon the family.”
“Are you?” Zendellor asked.
“Abyss yes, I am,” Lariole said. “Except for the ‘abandoning the family’ part. It’s just…” She sighed and put her hand to her forehead.
Footsteps scuffed into the stable behind her. “We heard yelling,” Keolah said. “What’s going on?”
“We’re leaving,” Lariole said. “Right now.”
Keolah blinked. “What?”
“Mom wants to make me get married to my prat of a second cousin,” Lariole said.
“Is she that intent on making sure you carry on the family line?” Keolah asked.
“Apparently,” Lariole said.
“Sometimes I’m glad I have uncles,” Keolah said.
“So unless I can come up with some alternative that doesn’t involve me marrying a cousin, I’ve got to get out of here.” She turned her attention to Delven. “Hey, Delven! Wanna make a baby so my mom will shut up and leave me the Abyss alone?”
“Uh…” Delven stammered. “I’m not really into sex. And she’d probably flip out at a half-elf heir, too.”
“True,” Lariole said. “Okay, escape it is.”
“I guess we can leave whenever,” Keolah said. “Are you sure I can’t convince her to reconsider?”
Lariole grunted. “Not unless you’re a miracle worker with your tongue, and if you are, there’s better things you can put it to than trying to sweet-talk my mom.”
Keolah flushed violet. “Right, you said something about a way into Hannaderres?”
“Shh, keep it down.” Lariole held up a finger. “I’ll show you. Do you have everything?”
“I need to grab my pack from the guest room,” Keolah said.
“And my lute,” Delven added.
“Alright, get them,” Lariole said. “I’m sure my mom won’t try to detain you at least. I’ll meet you at the entrance to the tunnel. Zendellor can lead you there. Good luck.”
Despite Lariole’s assurance that Dennole probably wouldn’t attempt to stop them, Keolah still felt uneasy about going back into the Chelseer Estate. She chided herself for leaving behind her pack, although realistically, she could not have expected this.
Dennole ambushed her in the hallway. “Have you seen Lariole?”
Keolah thought fast. “Yeah, I passed her heading to the village,” she bluffed. “I think she said something about needing a drink.”
Dennole made a disgusted noise. “She’ll be at the Nervous Goat, then. I don’t see what she sees in that place. It’s filthy. Thank you. I’ll have to send Kiorden down to retrieve her. Are the two of you leaving soon?”
“We were just on our way to collect our belongings and be on our way,” Delven said. “Many thanks for your hospitality.”
“You two have a safe journey, now,” Dennole said.
Keolah slipped into her room, grabbed her pack and slung it over her shoulder. Delven emerged from his own room with his lute. Keolah poked into Lariole’s room to grab a hammock for her as well, and shoved it into her pack. A large crystalline sword lay out on a table, with a pink aura brighter than she was used to seeing on enchanted objects. Lariole would probably want that, so she took it along, and the harness its scabbard was attached to. She hoped nobody would notice before they could get away. The cyan and violet auras had both left the house, though, thankfully.
“All clear,” Keolah said.
Delven nodded, and they headed back out to the stable, where Zendellor was waiting for them in horse form. As Zendellor led them away from the manor and toward the mountains, Keolah peered back several times in hopes of spotting if anyone was noticing them leaving, but no one looked in their direction. At least she figured the horse might more or less blend in with the hills, if they were too far away for anyone to make out his vivid red aura.
Some ways away from the village, Zendellor stopped in front of a nondescript low cliff and stomped his foot and neighed. The foliage covering the cliff face parted, and a blue-haired head emerged.
“Come on, get inside, quick,” Lariole said.
They pushed past the shrubs and entered a cave, and Keolah lit a small green flame in her palm to illuminate the place. A gently-sloping tunnel ran up into the mountainside.
“Oh, that’s convenient,” Lariole said. “I didn’t know you were a Fire Mage. Can you scorch our enemies, too?”
“I don’t think we really have any enemies just yet, aside from our own families. Much as I dislike some of their attitudes and the things they do, I don’t really want to scorch them.”
“Guess so,” Lariole said. “They didn’t give you too much trouble, did they?”
“I told Dennole you’d gone to the tavern,” Keolah said.
“And she bought it?”
Keolah nodded.
“Thank the Trickster,” Lariole said, breathing a sigh of relief.
Keolah opened her mouth to say that she didn’t think the Trickster had anything to do with it, thought better of it, and just shook her head and handed Lariole the large sword she’d found in her room. “I brought your sword.”
“Oh, thanks.” Lariole strapped the sword to her back.
“At least one of us has some foresight to grab that.” Keolah smirked. “It would have been a shame to go adventuring without it.”
“It wasn’t really necessary,” Lariole said. “I mean, thanks, but it’s a magic sword keyed to my soul. If it ever got lost or stolen, it would just appear at my side at dawn of the next morning.”
“Oh,” Keolah said. “That must be really convenient.”
“How do you even draw that thing?” Delven asked. “Never seen a back scabbard with a sword that size. It’s almost as big as you are!”
“Wind Magic,” Lariole replied.
“How far does this tunnel go?” Keolah asked.
“All the way through the Thorndelles, I think,” Lariole said.
“That’s going to be a fair bit of time spent underground,” Delven said.
“The tunnel opens into a valley in the mountains and continues on through the other side,” Lariole said. “We can camp up there.”
The floor of the tunnel was very smooth and flat, and the ceiling formed a perfect curve overhead. It didn’t show any signs of markings that might indicate that it was artificially constructed. If nature did this, it was impressive, but Keolah’s own experience lay in plants, not rocks.
Zendellor transformed into the brown-skinned blond boy again. “I’ll probably need to stay in equine form once we get into Hannaderres.”
“Yeah, your coloration is… unusual enough that it might attract unwanted attention,” Delven said.
“Someone would catch on eventually if people saw you in the presence of a horse and a boy that looks like me,” Zendellor said. “There’s too many of you to ride, but I can carry all your things.” He grinned. “I know how flimsy and weak most elves are.”
“Hey!” Lariole protested.
Zendellor snickered. “Your strength is enhanced by magic.”
Lariole grunted.
“You’re probably going to want to get a crash course in the common tongue,” Delven said. “And not just cussing at people.”
“Guess so,” Lariole said. “How do you say my name in humanish?”
“What’s your name mean?” Delven asked.
“It’s the name of a tree,” Lariole said. “The one with thorns and the little round fruit.”
“It’s the hawthorn tree,” Keolah said.
“Hawthorn?” Lariole repeated thoughtfully. “Hawthorn. I like the sound of that. Okay! I’ll be Hawthorne.”
“I don’t know that trying to blend in with a human name would work,” Delven said. “Most humans have brown skin and black hair, not purple skin and blue hair.”
“I’m not trying to blend in. I’m just kind of sick of elves right now. Aside from the one behind me. Hawthorne Chelseer. How’s that sound?”
Delven shrugged. “Sounds fine to me.”
“Saner than half the names you pretended to be as a kid,” Zendellor put in.
“It’s not my fault ‘Lariole’ just sounds like a prissy, pretty elf name that elf moms give to their elf daughters hoping that they’ll grow up to be good elf wives and never do anything exciting.”
“I can’t imagine why anyone would want to name you after a prickly plant,” Keolah said lightly.
“Did anyone pack breakfast?” Hawthorne asked. “I’m starved.”