| |
Relief and satisfaction rolled over Cal. Another performance done—it was one less thing to worry about. The weather seemed to affirm her mood. Leaves swept across the sidewalk and crackled under her feet as the cool autumn air washed over her. The bright day was slowly giving way to a setting sun. She inhaled before letting the air slowly out of her lungs, which intensified her feelings of exhilaration. Even though it was nearly October, the jacket she brought with her was stowed away, not needed yet.
She and Maggie had just finished a performance in the university’s auditorium this evening. When they managed to break away from the backstage crowd, they’d decided to head home. Lugging their assorted instruments and accouterments out of the building, they made for Maggie’s car.
“Ouch, Cal, watch it.” Maggie tried to rub her elbow where the guitar case had hit but couldn’t because of her full hands.
Cal straightened from her stagger. “Sorry.”
Turning, Maggie stumbled under the weight of her belongings and crashed into Cal.
“Maggie!”
“Oops. Just returning the favor.”
Cal, a retort on her lips, stopped abruptly. A rippling fog, made of a mist that carried the glistening of minuscule stars, began to appear before them. It would’ve been a beautiful sight if she hadn’t known what it was.
They both stood still as Maggie choked out, “Is that what I think it is? I’m pretty sure it is, but I still need a reality check.”
Cal nodded. She couldn’t believe Maggie saw it, too. “This looks like the same one.”
“But I can see it! You said nobody ever noticed it but you. This is getting strange—well, stranger than it had been and that’s saying something.”
Cal looked at her, feeling the frown form between her eyebrows. “It’s the same mist.” She bit her lip. “Should we try to turn around and hope to outrun it? Maybe it’ll leave us alone. I don’t want to involve you.”
“Do you really believe that the mist will disappear without it doing what it came here to do?” Maggie shot back.
“No.”
“All right then, that’s agreed upon. As for being involved, I already am by the mere fact that I know. And, not to mention, because I can see it. So don’t worry about me. Anyway, you shouldn’t always have to face this by yourself. If this thing...mist wants your company, it’ll also have mine, if I have any say in it. I’m not leaving you.”
From Maggie’s tone of voice, Cal knew she wanted in on any action that might happen, no matter the cost. “I just hope you won’t regret it.” She eyed the mist. It seemed to expand and reach out toward them like a beckoning hand.
“Nah, how could I regret an adventure with you? Nothing exciting ever happens to me, so I have to take advantage of excitement wherever I find it. And if I do seriously regret it, I won’t have anybody to blame but myself.”
“You’re saying you have to live vicariously through me?” She spared Maggie the briefest of glances before she looked back at the fog.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,”
Maggie’s words barely registered. When the cool mist enveloped them, Cal shrieked and Maggie joined in. Even though she’d seen it coming, she wasn’t prepared for the reality of it. And neither was Maggie, apparently.
They turned to each other, dropping their instrument cases on the sidewalk that frighteningly disappeared beneath them. All too soon, their feet touched nothing but the insubstantial fog. Her breath stilled, and her heart hammered. As the cloud lifted them higher, it shrouded the ground below. Neither she nor Maggie fell. Same for their cases. Relief flooded her. At least, they might not have to worry about plummeting to their death.
Maggie grabbed her arm and held onto it tightly. “U...uh, Cal, where do you think this is taking us?”
Cal winced. Maggie had a strong grip, and her fingers felt like they were digging holes in her arm. She pried open her friend’s fingers. “I don’t know where this magic carpet is taking us.”
“To your elf prince? Maybe it has something to do with this?” She reached over to touch the bracelet on Cal’s wrist.
Cal sent her a grim smile before shivering. The mist hadn’t seemed so cold and damp before. “I think the probability of that is high, don’t you agree?”
“Yeah, I figured as much.” Maggie sighed before perking up. “Well, at least the ride is smooth. It hardly feels like we’re moving at all.”
An ironic bark of laughter escaped Cal. “Our very own amorphous inter-dimensional space ship. The mist is not only a translucent mirror between worlds but apparently a vehicle from one reality to another.”
“Yeah, your ‘real’ meeting with Relian supports that theory. We could’ve been billionaires on Earth with this little piece of magical technology in our pockets.”
A horrible thought crept over her and stole her voice. When she could finally speak, her voice came out husky. “I wonder if we’ll ever see Earth or our families again.”
Maggie looked stricken, but she soon recovered. With an unusually bright smile on her face, she slung an arm around Cal’s shoulders. “I don’t know, but it could be worse. You could’ve had no one as your sidekick. Or even worse, anybody but me. What a hellish future that would’ve been for you.”
Cal grinned, even though she hadn’t thought she could, and glanced at her friend. “Big head much?”
Maggie reached up and patted her hair. “My head is not big, thank you very much.”
They fell quiet, and the sound of speech only sporadically punctuated the silence. There was no way of knowing how long the mist would take to do whatever...it was doing. Each second stretched on. It may have been a matter of a few minutes or perhaps many hours, for Cal certainly didn’t feel the passage of time the same way she felt it on Earth. All they could do was wait.
***
Relian observed the scene that was unfolding before him in the merrily decorated clearing until a jolt of discomfort drew away his attention. He glanced down and saw the cause. His hand was clenched around a wine chalice. Opening his hand slightly, he flexed his fingers until color seeped back into the appendages. Once he had sufficient circulation back, he returned his focus to the ever-growing throng of people who attended the celebration. He wished they’d all go home, but there wasn’t any chance of that. Besides many wanting the free food and drink, any celebration hosted by the king was considered an honored event.
Those present might’ve wondered what news caused this gathering, but merry-making and other festivities soon shrugged this aside. His people’s life spans could be nearly indefinite, and they largely paced their way of life by this. Celebrations and parties were a time to let go, to live in the moment, and just be. It was a time to forget all past and future worries. There’d always be occasion enough to fret about them tomorrow. That was the way of elves—the tone of existence often set by immortality. Nevertheless, some adapted to the mores of their society more readily than others did.
He sent a pointed grimace at the irritant that was Kenhel. His friend hadn’t quite ever left behind that sense of gaiety and adventure often associated with childhood. That was not to say his people couldn’t be merry, because they often were. Most just chose to display it in a more restrained manner, at least until wine flowed through their veins.
Kenhel had never played by all their people’s rules. Indeed, any inbuilt elvish nature he possessed couldn’t seem to sway him to, even though he could turn solemn with alarming speed when the situation warranted it. An elf who commanded the army needed to have a solid foundation in tactical realities that he could ruthlessly bring up at a moment’s notice. And his friend had an amazing ability to do so.
This evening, however, Kenhel enjoyed his resurgence of childhood without qualm and mercilessly teased him about the upcoming announcement. Of course, Kenhel also found time to flirt with eivain who knew better than to take him seriously, though he always came back to Relian’s side to torment him further.
Relian usually would dryly return the quips right back. But tonight, he felt much too preoccupied, as if something was going to happen—and not just the announcement. For now, Kenhel was little more than a bothersome pest, an annoyance he ignored as much as possible. It was hard, admittedly, with said pest standing right next to him.
He attempted to banter with Kenhel but soon fell silent. This pattern continued for much of their conversation until an hour or two before the king would announce the binding, when Kenhel blundered over his last thread of patience.
“Come on, Relian, do you not find the king’s news spellbinding? I’m sure you can’t wait to share such tidings with the good people of our land. After all, you share such a strong bond with them.”
Relian gritted his teeth, something he was sure gave the impression of being at odds with the outward façade of calmness he wanted to portray. “Desist before I bind your hands and toss you into a river.”
At that, Kenhel retreated for a while. His friend was no fool and would only push him as far as he safely dared. Friends or not, he was Kenhel’s prince.
“Your Highness, how are you on this fine evening?”
The feminine voice startled Relian from his reverie. “Fine.”
The blonde female, possibly hoping for an escort, cast him a charming smile that brought out her dimples. “I’m Cianve, the daughter of Lord Kalen. Do you remember me?”
Her beautiful countenance stirred no admiration other than a vague appreciation. The memory of stolen moments in a random chamber during his youth flashed through his mind, but that was his only recollection of her. “Ah, yes. Kalen is one of my father’s councilors, and I believe I had...an acquaintance with you at one time.”
She beamed at him, and her blue eyes sparkled. “It is an acquaintance I’d like to renew.”
Fifteen years ago, he would’ve been happy to bed her again. The fact he didn’t want to now caused a flare of anger—at himself and Cal. “I have prior plans for after the celebration.” An assignation with four bottles of wine should do it.
Disappointment winked through her eyes, and a few lines formed between her brows as she seemed to cast about for something to say. “The celebration is sure to be a memorable event, given all the preparations that went into something planned so quickly.”
If she only knew. He fought to keep the glower off his face. “Quite the spectacle.”
Cianve’s smile wavered. “Of course, Your Highness. I should...ah...be on my way.”
As Relian watched her retreating back, he couldn’t dredge up any guilt for his abrupt manner. When would this debacle end? His father had said he wanted as many of his people present as possible. Half of Eria appeared to be here. Supposedly, news would disseminate in a more factual way if many of his subjects could witness the announcement. Hopefully, they’d garner more acceptance if the people heard the actual declaration and not the gossip that would arise from it.
As decisions weren’t normally made in haste, he and his father would’ve preferred waiting longer to make an announcement. But while mostly honorable members formed the council, the truth wouldn’t stay hidden for long. Neither of them desired insinuations of concealment that could affect an already precarious situation, hence this hastily put-together celebration.
When Kenhel came back to his side, they finally settled into easy conversation, discussing their warriors and the requisite training such talk always engendered. Their enemy grew bolder and prowled about Eria, looking for unsuspecting victims. A new strategy had to be devised.
To ensure such bad tidings hadn’t awaited families who traveled to the celebration, his father had commanded that all sentries, sentinels, and guardians be put on active duty throughout the realm. The warriors who resided in the city took turns policing the celebration. Many of the accompanying soldiers who’d served as protection to the visitors on the way there also found themselves in attendance.
The early evening wore on, and Relian sighed silently. His father would soon make the announcement and reveal the binding. At least, he hoped it was soon. How much more of this “celebration” could he take before he sought the end of his own sword?
As if his father knew what he’d been thinking, Talion motioned for the minstrels to end their song. People turned toward their king, who sat upon a chair on the platform that’d been erected in the middle of a clearing that rested between one of the palace’s gardens and the town. Relian came to stand behind his father to the right, as required during formal functions of state.
With a smile, his father stood and welcomed their guests. “Elves of Eria, how glad I am that you all arrived safely and are in attendance on such a beautiful night. Please fully partake of the food and wine around you.”
The stress headache that pounded behind Relian’s eyes worsened. Could his father cut short the pleasantries? No, maybe it was better that his father droned on forever. Through the muddle of his mind, he became aware Talion addressed the core of the matter—the reason for the celebration – and was well into the speech already.
“...council and I believe all this has to be related. Why else would the veil take interest in a particular human, in any human at all, if this weren’t the case?”
Like the last time with the council, Talion paused briefly before his voice rang out again. “A handful of weeks ago, he was brought together with this human through the working of the veil. In an event never before experienced in our world, they met in its actual mists.”
Voices murmured in the crowd but quieted after their king held up a hand for silence.
“Please draw your memory back to a festival some ten years ago. I believe all who were there will remember seeing a young human. We have reason to suspect that the girl and the woman are one and the same.”
His father purposefully skirted around the subject of the binding, saving it until the very end. Relian drove all expression from his face. It wouldn’t be long now. All would soon know.
“After Relian’s meeting with the woman, he woke up the next morning with an unlooked-for token, one that will shape his destiny. Relian, your hand.”
As the king began to reveal the bracelet that would change his life forevermore, the moment stretched out inexplicably. The soft material of his sleeve glided over his skin. He felt the air on his now bare arm, and the lightness of the binding seemed heavier than anything he’d ever experienced. The sensation of being vulnerable and naked washed over him.
He fought the urge to close his eyes as the crowd broke into whispers and gasps. More than a few eivain gave disappointed sighs. The king again raised his hand for silence, probably to end this farce.
A spark lit on the edge of his consciousness. Relian tensed, looking around, and froze at the sight that met his eyes. A mist formed on the right side of the clearing. Could...could Cal be on the other side? Did the others notice the veil? After a brief inspection, he saw many were turned in the direction he’d been gazing and that everyone stood as if frozen in place.
Disbelief and fear filled the sweetly scented air. His people stared and pointed, their fingers shaking with nervousness. Families drew together. Even though most had seen the mist before, it must’ve seemed as if an omen appeared before their very eyes since the king had just spoken of the veil.
The mist thickened and, after several minutes, slowly started to disappear. Kenhel and his father signaled the warriors present to stay back and those hidden to remain so, but all stayed on alert. Two figures started to take shape inside the mist.
Excitement and trepidation roiled in his stomach. His people waited with bated breath, their tension palpable, to see who or what might be revealed. Many quiet voices offered definite opinions, which soon would be substantiated or proven null. He gripped the back of his father’s chair. His own conviction about what was in that mist would soon be uncovered as true or false.