Queen of Song and Souls
Page 89
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Ellysetta laughed. "Young? The Third Age began at least a hundred thousand years ago."
Fanor smiled. "It's young for a Sentinel. In Navahele, the oldest of the ancients there put down his roots in the Time Before Memory, before the First Age."
Her jaw dropped. "But that was over a million years ago."
"Bayas, so it was. He and the other ancients of Navahele hold in their life rings many memories long since forgotten by the rest of the world."
"Do they share those memories?" Rain asked.
"Not with me." Fanor ducked his head to miss a low-hanging branch. "The ancients speak only to the king and queen of Elvia, Lord Galad and his sister Ilona Brighthand, the Lady of Silvermist,"
As they rode up the crest of a hill, Fanor's face brightened. "We are here." He spurred his mount faster, and the ba'houda took off. When they reached the top of the crest, Fanor reined his mount to a halt and waited for the others to catch up.
"Behold," he said when they drew near, "Navahele. City of the ancients." A smile of joy and pride spread across his face and made his skin glow with a soft golden aura.
Ellysetta drew back on her mount's reins, pulling the mare to a halt at the top of the hill. She stared down into the valley below with dawning wonder. Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn’t this.
There were no buildings.
Navahele wasn't just a city in the trees; it was a city of the trees. Rings of Sentinels nearly twice the size of any they'd seen so far were twined together in overlapping harmony. Their glossy golden trunks and branches had grown into living cathedrals in which the Elves dwelled. Stairs circled massive trunks, and bridges crisscrossed the air above, all formed from branches, vines, and other symbiotic vegetation that grew along the great Sentinels' trunks and branches. Columns and elegant latticework of supporting roots grew in graceful splendor beneath the heaviest branches in a manner similar to bania trees. Leaf- and flower-covered vines hung from the canopy like ribbons around which birds and a dazzling array of butterflies fluttered like flying jewels.
"Come," Fanor said. He touched his heels to his mount's side, spurring the horse down the trail towards the stunning city of trees. "My people are expecting us."
Leaving their mounts at the bottom of the hill, the Fey followed Fanor as he led the way through the central grove of colossal, ancient trees. Thick, spongy moss, soft as eiderdown, carpeted the ground below the great branches. Each step was like walking on clouds.
Ellysetta couldn't stop herself from craning her neck and gawking like an awestruck child as, behind every tree, she found a scene of utter pastoral tranquility. Clear streams burbled over rounded stones, and lacy waterfalls tumbled in musical white waves down moss-covered boulders. Every-where, creatures of myth and legend abounded—animals and birds that had long since disappeared from the mortal world.
"Is that a ... Shadar?" she whispered to Fanor when she caught sight of a trio of Elf maids weaving flower garlands into the long, lustrous mane and tail of an enormous white stallion with a single, spiraling horn sprouting from its forehead. The stallion turned its proud head in Ellysetta's direction, then whickered and pawed the mossy ground with gleaming silver hooves. The soft laughter of the Elf maidens fell silent as they watched Ellysetta and the Fey pass.
"It is," Fanor said.
"I didn't know they still existed—or ever truly did, for that matter."
"Mortals hunted them nearly to extinction for their magic— the Aquilines as well." Aquilines were fierce, winged chargers who were said to spawn thunder with the beat of their wings and lightning with the strike of their golden hooves. "But both still thrive in Elvia."
Just looking at the Shadar made her almost giddy. "Is it true what the legends say about the power of a Shadar's horn being able to nullify any poison and purify any foulness?"
Fanor's white teeth flashed in an indulgent smile. "Aiyah. Shadar horn is a curative like no other, which is why mortals hunted them so exhaustively. They could touch Shadar horn to a poisoned well, and the waters would be instantly purified. ‘Tis said the touch of a Shadar horn can even save a man poisoned by tairen venom."
Rain snorted. "Now, that is myth. Not even our strongest shei’dalins can counteract tairen venom.”
The Elf shrugged. "Well, that's what Elvish lore claims. I don't know of anyone who's ever tested to see if it's true."
Tajik snorted and cast a speculative look Gaelen's way. "Perhaps vel Serranis could give it a try while we're here. Purely in the interest of science, of course."
Bel rolled his eyes. Gil and Rijonn sniggered. Gaelen just lifted a fist with his thumb tucked between his index and middle finger in a crude gesture. Tajik grinned and smacked a sarcastic kiss in his direction.
They stopped before a beautiful vine-covered arbor that curled up the trunk of one of the great Sentinels. A dozen Elves, golden skinned and beautiful, stood waiting at the base of the tree.
"Go with them, please," Fanor said. "Lord Galad bids you rest and refresh yourselves. At sunset, we hold a dinner to honor your arrival. He will see you after that."
The Elves led the Fey to individual guest chambers formed from spacious hollows that appeared to have been purposely grown into the Sentinel tree's massive trunk. Rain inspected the chamber he and Ellysetta had been escorted to and could find no hint of tool mark on any part of the smooth, seamless golden surface of the floor, walls, or ceiling.
Fanor smiled. "It's young for a Sentinel. In Navahele, the oldest of the ancients there put down his roots in the Time Before Memory, before the First Age."
Her jaw dropped. "But that was over a million years ago."
"Bayas, so it was. He and the other ancients of Navahele hold in their life rings many memories long since forgotten by the rest of the world."
"Do they share those memories?" Rain asked.
"Not with me." Fanor ducked his head to miss a low-hanging branch. "The ancients speak only to the king and queen of Elvia, Lord Galad and his sister Ilona Brighthand, the Lady of Silvermist,"
As they rode up the crest of a hill, Fanor's face brightened. "We are here." He spurred his mount faster, and the ba'houda took off. When they reached the top of the crest, Fanor reined his mount to a halt and waited for the others to catch up.
"Behold," he said when they drew near, "Navahele. City of the ancients." A smile of joy and pride spread across his face and made his skin glow with a soft golden aura.
Ellysetta drew back on her mount's reins, pulling the mare to a halt at the top of the hill. She stared down into the valley below with dawning wonder. Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn’t this.
There were no buildings.
Navahele wasn't just a city in the trees; it was a city of the trees. Rings of Sentinels nearly twice the size of any they'd seen so far were twined together in overlapping harmony. Their glossy golden trunks and branches had grown into living cathedrals in which the Elves dwelled. Stairs circled massive trunks, and bridges crisscrossed the air above, all formed from branches, vines, and other symbiotic vegetation that grew along the great Sentinels' trunks and branches. Columns and elegant latticework of supporting roots grew in graceful splendor beneath the heaviest branches in a manner similar to bania trees. Leaf- and flower-covered vines hung from the canopy like ribbons around which birds and a dazzling array of butterflies fluttered like flying jewels.
"Come," Fanor said. He touched his heels to his mount's side, spurring the horse down the trail towards the stunning city of trees. "My people are expecting us."
Leaving their mounts at the bottom of the hill, the Fey followed Fanor as he led the way through the central grove of colossal, ancient trees. Thick, spongy moss, soft as eiderdown, carpeted the ground below the great branches. Each step was like walking on clouds.
Ellysetta couldn't stop herself from craning her neck and gawking like an awestruck child as, behind every tree, she found a scene of utter pastoral tranquility. Clear streams burbled over rounded stones, and lacy waterfalls tumbled in musical white waves down moss-covered boulders. Every-where, creatures of myth and legend abounded—animals and birds that had long since disappeared from the mortal world.
"Is that a ... Shadar?" she whispered to Fanor when she caught sight of a trio of Elf maids weaving flower garlands into the long, lustrous mane and tail of an enormous white stallion with a single, spiraling horn sprouting from its forehead. The stallion turned its proud head in Ellysetta's direction, then whickered and pawed the mossy ground with gleaming silver hooves. The soft laughter of the Elf maidens fell silent as they watched Ellysetta and the Fey pass.
"It is," Fanor said.
"I didn't know they still existed—or ever truly did, for that matter."
"Mortals hunted them nearly to extinction for their magic— the Aquilines as well." Aquilines were fierce, winged chargers who were said to spawn thunder with the beat of their wings and lightning with the strike of their golden hooves. "But both still thrive in Elvia."
Just looking at the Shadar made her almost giddy. "Is it true what the legends say about the power of a Shadar's horn being able to nullify any poison and purify any foulness?"
Fanor's white teeth flashed in an indulgent smile. "Aiyah. Shadar horn is a curative like no other, which is why mortals hunted them so exhaustively. They could touch Shadar horn to a poisoned well, and the waters would be instantly purified. ‘Tis said the touch of a Shadar horn can even save a man poisoned by tairen venom."
Rain snorted. "Now, that is myth. Not even our strongest shei’dalins can counteract tairen venom.”
The Elf shrugged. "Well, that's what Elvish lore claims. I don't know of anyone who's ever tested to see if it's true."
Tajik snorted and cast a speculative look Gaelen's way. "Perhaps vel Serranis could give it a try while we're here. Purely in the interest of science, of course."
Bel rolled his eyes. Gil and Rijonn sniggered. Gaelen just lifted a fist with his thumb tucked between his index and middle finger in a crude gesture. Tajik grinned and smacked a sarcastic kiss in his direction.
They stopped before a beautiful vine-covered arbor that curled up the trunk of one of the great Sentinels. A dozen Elves, golden skinned and beautiful, stood waiting at the base of the tree.
"Go with them, please," Fanor said. "Lord Galad bids you rest and refresh yourselves. At sunset, we hold a dinner to honor your arrival. He will see you after that."
The Elves led the Fey to individual guest chambers formed from spacious hollows that appeared to have been purposely grown into the Sentinel tree's massive trunk. Rain inspected the chamber he and Ellysetta had been escorted to and could find no hint of tool mark on any part of the smooth, seamless golden surface of the floor, walls, or ceiling.
