The Knights of the Jewel: Princess Cordelia and the Jewel

            Troy was the first to awaken that morning. It was early enough that the sun was only a sliver of gold on the smoky horizon, and yet late enough that it could be seen at all. The others were still asleep, stretched out as comfortably as they could manage in the soft patches of grass. Troy was dismayed to notice that grass stains and streaks of dirt had appeared on Lovisa’s white gown.

            There was nothing to do but wander. Perhaps venturing out into the woods would yield him a deer or another wild pig for the company’s breakfast. He took up his rifle and stepped quietly around the sleeping forms of his new comrades, while at the same time he was stung by the thoughts of his old comrades, who he had left behind with no explanation. What would they make of his sudden disappearance? Would he be accused of desertion? A chill ran through his body at the thought, and though he tried to push it away, it would not leave his mind once it had made its way in.

            The woods were as still and quiet as if they, also, were still asleep. Troy toyed with the idea of returning to the clearing where he shot the pig the night before, but decided that with the woods in such a state of inactivity it would be more likely for him to catch fish in the way that Alicia had. When he reached the stream, he was taken aback by the sight of a woman lying stretched out along the bank. Her silver diadem and the showy jewel that she wore at her neck indicated that she was wealthy, but she wore an outfit as simple and practical as any woodsman’s. She looked so peaceful and content in her sleep that Troy decided to leave her to it as he searched the ground for a suitable branch to fashion into a spear. Still, he wondered why she was sleeping out here in the woods. Had she come out for a stroll and lost her way? Had she ventured out here for the sole purpose of falling asleep beside the stream? Or had she, like himself and his company, been led out here from another world by those mysterious lights? As this latter possibility registered in Troy’s mind as the most likely, he knelt down beside the woman and shook her gently. “Miss?”

            The woman didn’t stir. He shook her again, more firmly this time. “Are you all right, Miss?” As she began to awaken, he wondered what she would think when she saw his rifle, and thought for a moment of taking it off. But there was nowhere to lay it where she wouldn’t see it. As she opened one eye, he said abruptly, “I’m not going to hurt you, Miss. I was just wondering if you’re all right.” She opened her other eye, rubbed the dust out of both, and rolled over to look at him. For a few moments, she just stared at him as if trying to register his facial features. Finally, she smiled at him, and Troy suddenly had the idea that this had been planned, that she had been waiting here for him. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

            “So you have arrived!” said the woman, confirming Troy’s speculation. “But where are the others? Were there others with you?”

            “Well, yes,” said Troy, “there are others. They’re all asleep back at the camp we made.”

            The woman held out her hand for him. “Take me to them,” she said.

            “First, I want you to tell me who you are,” said Troy.

            “Princess Cordelia,” she told him, “of Rasta. I’ve called the eight of you here to my land because you are meant to protect and defend its most precious artifact. You are meant to become Rasta’s Knights of the Jewel.”

            “You called us here?” Troy asked.

            The princess took hold of the jewel she wore at her neck and held it up for him to see. There, reflected in the brilliant, trillion-cut stone were all eight of the colors of the lights that had guided Troy and the others here: red, blue, green, orange, pink, purple, turquoise blue, and shining onyx black. They were eight colors, in a single stone, that otherwise never would have gone together. But in this stone, they blended in with one-another so naturally that they came close to forming an entirely new hue. Troy had to blink to adjust his eyes to the effect, which was oddly disorienting in that his eyes had never beheld anything like it before. When he regained his senses, he finally said, “They were your lights?”

            “They are Rasta’s lights,” said the princess, “Rasta’s colors.”

            Troy took the princess’ hand and helped her to her feet. She dusted herself off and he patted the dirt off of her leaf-colored flannel. “Follow me,” he instructed, and the two of them headed back towards the meadow where Troy’s seven comrades were surely still asleep. “By the way,” he said, “I’m…”

            “Troy Conrad,” Cordelia cut in. “You are Troy Conrad, a lieutenant in the Arcadian military.” She smiled good-naturedly when she took note of the astonishment on his face. “I know all of the Knights of the Jewel, Troy, and I trust that they have been chosen well.”

            “So we are meant to be knights,” said Troy. “But why did you choose us? Not everybody has a warrior’s background. I mean, there’s a guy who plays the harp, and a young girl who I’m sure has never had any fighting experience.”

 “That does not trouble me,” Cordelia assured him, “for not everyone can be a warrior. But certain attributes have been identified in each one of you that make you desirable protectors. A warrior’s spirit and prowess in combat are not the only qualities that make up a knight.”

            “I understand that,” said Troy with a slight nod. “I just hope that you know what you’re doing, and that the others are as cut out for it as you think they are.”

            “I have no doubt about it,” Cordelia said knowingly.

            Eluani was awoken by a vision—not a dream, she was certain, but a real vision. A woman was standing in the meadow just a few steps ahead of the camp, looking at her with a smile that was warm and friendly, yet somehow secretive. She wore a starry silver diadem that a princess might have worn back in the days when the world had a need for princesses. Her well-tended hair was kept in a braid trimmed with gold and silver ribbons, her face was clean and smooth and seemed to glow in the starlight that hit her, and at her neck was a golden necklace that contained a spectacular gemstone. This gemstone gave off a bright glare that caught Eluani’s attention above all else, and when she looked into the gem and saw the eight colors in the light it gave off—the eight colors that had appeared in her scrying pool before she had been spirited away to this world—she woke up with a start. She sat up, passing a hand over her tired eyes. The others were still asleep, some peacefully and some noisily, but Troy was gone. Eluani’s first instinct was to wander off in search of him, but as quickly as this came to mind, she knew that it would not be necessary. Troy would return, emerging from the woods to the northeast of the camp. But he would have somebody with him, and Eluani could not determine who it was. All she could do was watch and wait.

            Troy emerged from the woods, leading a woman by the hand, and the two of them were making their way towards the camp. Eluani saw this before it happened, and when it did happen she let out a gasp when she saw that he was leading the woman from her vision. Her surprise quickly turned to understanding; he needed to find this woman. He was meant to, for she knew something that they did not know and that they needed to. It had been apparent in her eyes and in that secretive little smile. Eluani stood up in order to call Troy’s attention. He looked to her and waved his hand. Eluani wondered if she ought to wake the others, but she decided to wait and see what Troy and the mysterious woman had to say.

            When she and Troy reached the camp, Cordelia smiled in much the same way she had in the vision. “Hello, Eluani,” she said, and when Eluani’s eyes widened, she went on, “Eluani Adash, of Calner’s House of Sight.”

            “Another clairvoyant,” Eluani determined, but Cordelia shook her head. “I am no clairvoyant,” she said, “but I know exactly who you are, for you have been personally chosen to protect and defend the pride of my land of Rasta.”

            “Have I, now?” Eluani said thoughtfully. “And is that true for all of us?”

            “It is,” said Cordelia with a nod, and then she took hold of the jewel at her neck and held it up for Eluani to see. There were the eight colors that had appeared in the inky waters of the scrying pool, and in her vision. Eluani knew then, and she gave Cordelia a nod. “I’ll wake the others,” she said.

            “There’s no need,” said Cordelia. “Let them rest. They will need it. The two of you ought to rest as well.”

            “And what will you do?” Troy asked.

            “I will wait,” was Cordelia’s cryptic answer.

            Alicia awoke to a fresh dawn sky streaked with orange, gold, and rose. She sighed happily at the sight and rolled over, brushing blades of grass and fallen leaves out of her hair. The others were still asleep, and she felt that now would be a reasonable time to wake them. She chuckled at the sight of Sanjaia sleeping beside her with his arms wrapped around his harp, holding it to his bosom as if it was a favorite stuffed toy. Quietly, she crept over to him and gave his shoulder a gentle shake. “Sanjaia,” she called with her voice barely above a whisper. “Wake up, Sanjaia!”

            Out of the corner of her eye, Alicia saw that there was someone awake and sitting up. Turning to look, she saw that it was not a member of her company at all. It was a woman, wearing a silver crown with a green flannel shirt and brown cotton pants. How strange, Alicia thought, to wear a crown with plain clothes. Her own crown was reserved for formal events or public affairs, where it served to properly designate her as the princess. The woman watched the sky as if the visuals of the sunrise enchanted her. She must be from the castle that they saw yesterday, Alicia determined as she slowly approached the woman. She stopped a few paces away from her, momentarily silenced by the shyness that so often got the best of her. Just as she was about to say hello, the woman gave her a welcoming smile and said, “Hello, Alicia!”

            “Oh!” Alicia abruptly stepped back and nearly tripped over her own feet.  The woman’s eyes indicated her amusement at such a reaction. “I am Princess Cordelia of this good land of Rasta,” she said, “and you are Princess Alicia of the Earth Sylphs’ Clan Meadow-Vale, hailing from the land of Areida.” 

            This must be a dream, was Alicia’s first thought. Then she said, “Yes, I am. It’s a pleasure to meet with you, Cordelia.” The custom for meeting with the royal figures of other lands was to extend a branch of holly or laurel, a symbol of welcome and cordiality. Since there were no shrubs of holly or laurel available, Alicia hoped that a stalk of asphodel would be a viable substitute. Cordelia unhesitatingly accepted it.

            “What have you come to see me for?” Alicia asked.

            “Before I tell you,” said Cordelia urgently, “I need you to wake the others. They must hear this too.”

            “Of course,” said Alicia. “I was just about to wake them anyhow. If you will give me a few moments…”

            Cordelia stroked the petals of the asphodel and waited patiently as Alicia roused the members of her company one-by-one, and they all awoke with varying degrees of willingness. Alicia began to suspect that this was not a dream at all, and she mentally debated the plausibility of waking others up in a dream. When Eluani was roused, Alicia was astonished to hear her say, “Hello again, Cordelia, and a good morning to you.”

            “You know her!” Alicia exclaimed.

            “We had a bit of an early-morning meeting,” Eluani told her.

            “And I’ve known her even longer,” said Troy, “at least forty-five minutes longer than she has.”

            Morgana was the last to be roused. “Get away from me,” she growled in response to Alicia’s gentle coaxing. “I’m not moving.”

            “But there is someone here who wishes to speak with all of us,” said Alicia, “and it would be awfully rude not to allow her that.”  

            “She can come back at a better hour,” said Morgana.  “Otherwise, she can leave me alone and so can you.”

            “It’s disgraceful to speak to a princess in such a way!” said Ion, raising his voice. “So I suggest that you clean up your manners before I am forced to intervene!”   

            “I dare you to come near me,” Morgana snapped, rolling over and covering her face with her arm. Ion began to advance on her, but Cordelia tapped his shoulder and said, “Please don’t, I will handle her.”

            “She is out of line and she must be put in her place!” said Ion, but Cordelia ignored him. She knelt down beside Morgana and said very softly, “You don’t need to get up, Morgana. You only need to listen.” Morgana responded with a growl.

            “She will not behave respectably unless you give her an incentive to do so!” Ion insisted.

            “But we don’t want to make any trouble, either!” said Lovisa.

            Cordelia dismissed the interruption. “Morgana,” she said, “listen carefully. In fact, I want all of you to listen to what I am about to say. You are all here in Rasta because I sent for you. I sent for you on behalf of the Jewel, our greatest treasure and our pride.

“For centuries, the Jewel has served as the provider and the guiding force of our land. It was given as a gift to Rasta’s first king by Aliandra, the queen of the fairies. It is an otherworldly thing, imbued with powerful magic from those fairy realms, and by the era of Rasta’s third king this magic had been identified as the source of Rasta’s ceaseless fortune and prosperity. The Jewel is a living thing, and it is the true guardian of Rasta; kings and queens are only figureheads. The Jewel shapes the land and ensures that the weather conditions are always ideal for a bountiful crop season. It gives the warriors of Rasta the strength and the willpower to fight, and the unlucky few who have challenged these warriors were quick to discover that they are unmatched in their prowess and ferocity.”

            They ought to tangle with the Knights of Lamorak, thought Ion.

            “The Jewel speaks,” Cordelia went on, “and for centuries it has whispered the hidden answers and secrets of this life to our thinkers and philosophers, who have all gone on to publish books and essays in hopes of sharing this knowledge with others who have searched for it. That being said, the education system in Rasta is known for producing the finest scholars that have ever walked this world. Those who opted to pursue the arts of enchantment and healing have discovered magic within the Jewel that they were able to tap into and harness, and so hundreds of mages, clerics, healers, and wizards from surrounding lands have come into Rasta to reap the benefits of this magic. They returned home as sorceresses, grand wizards, and healing priests of the highest caliber.”

            “So essentially,” Troy interjected, “this Jewel is some kind of physical deity.”

            “It is not a deity,” Cordelia said, “but it is the physical embodiment of the fairy queen’s personal blessing to Rasta. And now, it is in peril.”

            “What’s happened to it?” Rodin asked.

            Cordelia looked at the ground for a few moments, her hands clasped behind her back and her shoulders heaving with a long sigh. Raising her head and fixing her eyes upon all eight at once, she said gravely, “It is at the center of a war.”

            “And you have chosen us to protect it,” said Ion.

            “Yes,” said Cordelia. “Rasta’s neighbor, the country of Aldine, was once its ally. This alliance was formed centuries ago, when it was noted that Aldine’s people would often come into Rasta to reap the benefits of the Jewel. It was agreed that the two countries would form an alliance, and that the Jewel’s gifts would be shared between them. But the recent death of Queen Alora of Aldine, the last living monarch after King Ruther, has called for their son Harkinian to ascend to the throne. Harkinian is a man whose ultimate purpose in life is to consume, to take as many things as he can for his own personal gain. The very moment of his coronation, he decided that the Jewel should belong exclusively to Aldine. He’s determined that Rasta has had it for long enough, and that it’s time for Aldine to experience the full extent of its power. But knowing Harkinian, he does not want the Jewel to benefit his country; he wants it to benefit himself, and that is all.”

            “So now we know who we must go after,” Ion said, his heart pulsing with the anticipation of a battle. “But tell me, why have you chosen the eight of us? You’ve mentioned that Rasta has its own collection of warriors—elite warriors, by the way you’ve talked about them. What can the eight of us do that they cannot?”

            “I have not chosen you,” said Cordelia, “the Jewel has. I am only its messenger. When I received the news that Harkinian meant to declare war upon Rasta for the Jewel, I was heartbroken. I fell at the Jewel’s side and wept, and I begged it to tell me what I could do to ensure its protection. There was nothing that I would not do—if it was necessary, I would even take up arms myself. But that’s when it showed me your images in its eight colors. Looking at you now, I can see clearly that you really are the ones the Jewel had shown me. But I was as skeptical as you are now, and for the first time in my life I questioned the Jewel’s judgement. How might maidens and fairies and ordinary citizens be able to fight in a war?”

            “You don’t know what I can do,” Morgana harrumphed.

            “You must be right, Morgana,” Cordelia said with a light chuckle. “The Jewel insisted that you were meant to be its knights, and that it didn’t need warriors, but knights. I realize now what it meant—a knight must be more than just a warrior. A knight possesses certain traits that may just as easily be found in a bard or an elven princess or even an ordinary country boy. The Jewel told me your names and the lands where you reside, and then it instructed me to take up its beacon, this pendant I wear at my neck. It said that if I signaled you, then you would come.

            “But you didn’t come,” Cordelia said disappointedly. “From day to night, I waited outside of the Palace of the Jewel, watching for your eight forms to appear over the countryside. When you didn’t show up, I wondered if the Jewel had really been mistaken. But the Jewel had been around for centuries, and it had never once been wrong. Now was not the time to doubt it. I decided that I would go looking for you, and felt very confident that I would find you.”

            “And you did find us!” said Lovisa.

            “We found you,” corrected Troy. “Or at least, I did.”

            “And you have no idea just how grateful I am for that,” Cordelia said with a sigh of relief. “And now, the eight of you are to accompany me to the Palace of the Jewel, where you will be knighted.”

            It was agreed that the company would have breakfast before they set out. Rodin sat with Cordelia, who had declined Alicia and Troy’s invitations to the hunting and gathering. “May I see the Jewel’s beacon,” he asked, looking upon the colorful gem with fascination. Cordelia unclasped it and held it out to him.

            “Was this made by a fairy too?” Rodin asked, looking over the gem with enchantment in his eyes.

            “It wasn’t,” said Cordelia. “The Jewel’s beacon was crafted by Hepsilon, one of the now legendary mages of Rasta. Hepsilon had an understanding of the Jewel that less than a handful of people possessed. His relationship with the Jewel was closer than that of the closest brothers, stronger than that of the most devoted friends, and more intimate than that of the most passionate lovers. He knew the Jewel intrinsically, and the Jewel knew him just as well. He knew the precise workings of its magic, the extent of its power, its inner feelings and emotions. It was this empathy and this understanding for the Jewel that allowed him to craft the beacon. The Jewel needed a method of contacting its people when it needed to send a message or it needed assistance. It needed a messenger, and there was no better messenger than Hepsilon. He synchronized his own magic with that of the Jewel and created a container for the synchronized magics. In this way, he created a beacon; the Jewel would send the message, but Hepsilon would carry the signal. Hundreds of years after his time, Hepsilon is still carrying the signals, right here in the beacon. Any good mage knows that he can never truly die, that he must live on through his magic.”

            “That’s lovely,” said Rodin, handing the gem back to Cordelia.

            “When the Jewel must send a message,” Cordelia went on, “it chooses one of its most trusted confidantes to take up its beacon and send out the signal. In doing so, it entrusts them with its own magic and with Hepsilon’s, and it acknowledges their ability to work the magic.”

            “The Jewel must really love you, then,” said Rodin with a hint of longing in his voice; what he would have given to earn the love and trust of a magical entity!

            “I am its keeper,” said Cordelia, “and like Hepsilon, I am its messenger. I understand the Jewel on a level that others could never hope to.”

            When the others returned, there was a breakfast of fish and fresh-picked fruits. Lovisa had collected water from the stream in Rodin’s water bottle and it was boiled over Morgana’s to fire make it drinkable. It was not the sort of feast they had enjoyed the night before, but it was enough to get them through the long trek to the Palace of the Jewel. Cordelia led the way, with Ion and Troy flanking her on each side. Rodin followed close behind, allured by the princess and her connection to the magic stone of a fairy queen. Lovisa walked behind him, with Alicia carrying the long skirts of her gown so she would not trip over them. Sanjaia shouldered his harp with one arm and Eluani with the other. Only Morgana walked alone, occasionally dragging her feet and lagging behind.

            To the company’s dismay, traversing the sandy road was to be no easy task. Sanjaia was forced to limp in his flat slippers, and Lovisa tripped twice in spite of Alicia’s help. Morgana grumbled and growled and, when she could stand it no longer, kicked sand at the legs of those in front of her. Eluani felt a clump of sand break against the hem of her robe, and she immediately turned on Morgana, her eyes full of fire. “I don’t suggest you do that again,” she warned.

            “You couldn’t see it coming, Miss Future Sight?” Morgana asked saucily.

            “This is your only warning,” Eluani said, turning around. “If I feel anymore sand, then you may find yourself in a very unpleasant situation.”

            “Of course you’re going to feel sand,” Morgana said with a jaunty toss of her hair. “It’s all around us.”

            “Please don’t fight!” Lovisa cried. “It’s disrespectful! We are meant to be knights, you know.”

            “Go in front of us, Morgana,” Sanjaia said, moving aside to let her pass.

            “No thank you,” Morgana said, tossing her hair again. But the princess turned around and looked at her knowingly, and though she was smiling just as warmly as she always seemed to be, there was something in the way that she locked eyes with Morgana that caused the fairy to avoid any further trouble. 

            Along the middle of the walk, Eluani said, “I can see the six towers. These towers belong to your Palace of the Jewel, correct?”

            “You are correct,” said Cordelia, “and what an eye you have. But there is still quite a way to go before we reach the palace.”

            Sanjaia played his harp for entertainment as they walked, but the oppressive summer sun and the struggle through the thick sands made it hard for any of them to keep their spirits up. Their skin was sticky from the heat, their faces grew red and puffy, and they had to stop several times to rest their tired feet. Nobody blamed Morgana for swearing under her breath and kicking sand around, so long as she did not kick it at any of them. The six white towers that had finally appeared in the distance seemed to taunt them, pulling away from them as they suffered a dismal walk that never came to an end.

            It was sunset when they finally reached the Palace of the Jewel, and the nine of them collapsed with exhaust at its golden gates. For the longest time, they lay there as they fought to regain the feeling in their tired legs, staring up at the six white towers that all this time had seemed to beckon them. With the exception of Ion, Alicia, and Morgana, none of the eight had ever seen a real palace before. This one was smaller than the average, but that did nothing to interfere with the beauty of its glassy white stones and the majesty of the six towers breaking through the rose-gold clouds of twilight. Even Morgana could not rightfully say that she was unimpressed.

            Cordelia rose to her feet and turned to face the company with a smile that established their friendship. “Welcome,” she said, “to Rasta’s Palace of the Jewel. I know it’s been a long and tiring journey, but I ask that you please rise and follow me. The Jewel has waited long enough for its knights.”

            They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and therefore nothing in this world can be inherently beautiful or ugly. The fact that beauty will always vary from person to person ensures that there is someone out there who will consider the most picturesque scenery to be an eyesore, and that even the loveliest of maidens will always find someone who will mercilessly nitpick at her flaws. The eight members of the company had their own vastly different perceptions of what constituted as “beautiful.” Lovisa could easily find beauty in everything that she laid eyes on, but felt that its ultimate manifestation took the form of a perfect rose. Sanjaia preferred the auditory over the visual, and found that true beauty existed in a perfect melody that takes over the mind of the listener and opens their eyes to dreams. The fanciful Rodin found real beauty in his own imagination, as he conjured up images of golden-haired fairy queens in flowery gowns and the picturesque fairylands that they resided in. Morgana would find these images to be ridiculous, and she herself reveled in the subtle beauty within a bolt of lightning or the flame of a candle.

            But when the eight of them were led into the Jewel’s chamber and they beheld the sight of the Jewel for the first time, the eight of them could contend that this object surpassed any idea of perfect beauty that was harbored by either one of them. No matter their highly varied ideas of beauty, the Jewel appealed to each and every one. It was indeed a jewel, a brilliant polished stone the size of a medium boulder. It was perfectly rounded on all sides in a way that even the most experienced of gemsmiths and the most adept of rock tumblers could never quite manage. There did not seem to be a single word to describe its luster, which could be perceived as a shine by one observer, a glow by another, a polish by a third, and another still may call it a gloss. Its color could not be determined; from one point, it appeared to be the crimson red of a fine ruby. From a different angle, it was a deep twilight purple. Another viewpoint produced the sight of a firey orange color that was so rarely seen in a stone. From where the eight stood, they could see that the stone was not any one color. The color of the stone was formed by the blend of eight different colors, coming together as one and yet still managing to retain their own radiance: red, blue, green, orange, turquoise, purple, pink, and glossy black.

            The eight, who were confident and rational when faced with the ordinary, were moved to silence and inactivity by this Jewel. None of them seemed to know how to act, what to say, or how to conduct themselves in the presence of this unearthly object. But there was Cordelia, who approached the Jewel as casually as she might approach a familiar acquaintance. She embraced it and kissed it like a dear friend, and spoke to it as if it was any trusted confidante. “Here they are,” she said, “the knights that you have been waiting for: Ion, Lovisa, Troy, Sanjaia, Alicia, Eluani, Morgana, and Rodin. You might imagine their confusion when they received the signal of your beacon and entered Rasta, and when they received the news that they were to be knighted. But they are here now, and they have accepted what you have planned for them.”

            The resulting silence did not seem as empty as silence tends to be. The eight were aware that there was conversation, though they could not pick up on the hidden language in which it took place. Cordelia did understand it, however, and she listened with the respect and rapt attention that a scholar would give to his professor. Finally, she turned to the eight and beckoned them to her side. “The Jewel would like to speak with you now,” she said. “Listen well and understand well. Remember that the Jewel has selected you out of trust and respect, and that you must extend that same courtesy to it.” She left the chamber then, gently shutting the door behind her. The eight were left there before the Jewel, and the Jewel began to speak. 

Into the Land of the Elves: In Katie's Bad Company

The Diary of Miss Aidyn Hall, elf friend and storyteller

August 10

8:10 AM

In Katie’s Bad Company

            We searched the fairy tale room for Newt and found him in a little box under one of the tables, lying underneath a pile of other figures. There he was—a gangly-limbed tree elf with a greenish tinge to his skin and streaks of green in his hazel hair. His arms were outstretched toward his lost lover, his eyes full of passion. Apple Blossom placed Chokana beside him and they fit perfectly into eachother’s embrace.

            So Chokana and Newt were the connection that I had been searching for. The Jadeites are the product of the forbidden love between a human and a tree elf, imbued with the magic that their parent had passed along to them. And it wasn’t a sense of tradition and exclusivity that rendered me unable to learn how to harness the jade essences, it was a genuine inability. A human just does not possess the resources to work the magic in the way that a Jadeite or a tree elf does, in the same way that a human does not possess the resources to fly like a bird or digest eucalyptus leaves like a koala. I wonder why Apple Blossom didn’t just tell me this instead of going into that spiel about respecting traditions. I guess that she didn’t actually know.

            What gets me the most is that this means that the Jadeites, in a way, are humans. I suppose a few centuries’ worth of breeding was enough to biologically cancel out their human side, but it most certainly did not cancel out the unmistakable sense of humanity that I observed from the get-go. Jadeites are humans just as much as Jadeites are elves, and yet they will only acknowledge the latter. The tree elves had their own reasons for their animosity towards humans, but shouldn’t it be different for the Jadeites? Was it animosity that drove them to hide the involvement of humans in their origin, or were most unaware that there was any human involvement at all? Was the animosity towards humans simply passed down from the tree elves like an ancestral heirloom, or was there so much more to it than that? There are still so many questions that remain unanswered. I know that Apple Blossom can’t answer them all, and I won’t make her try. This answer—the essential answer—had come to use by chance, and I am going to let the others do the same. What matters is that I was right, and that there is a connection after all!

            After we reunited Chokana and Newt, I showed Apple Blossom the pictures I’d taken in my yard. “These are photographs,” I explained. “A photograph is a direct copy of an image, taken with a camera. What you see in these photographs is exactly what you would see if you were in my yard and looking at these things.”

            “They’re wonderful,” she said. “I wish I could make photographs.”

            “I’ll show you my camera the next time I come over,” I told her.

            We had lunch in the garden again after that, and then I read her my diary entries from the day of her birthday party, ending with my unexpected audience with the queen. She listened just as quietly and attentively as she had the day before, but when I finished, she said, “When you went home that day, everybody was mad at me.”

            “What do you mean?” I asked. “Who was mad at you, your friends and your parents?”

            “Everybody,” said Apple Blossom. “My friends, my parents, the servants, all of the people at the palace, even the citizens. My parents got yelled at because the citizens were mad at me. They said that I was careless, that I was foolish, and that what I had done might bring down the Greenwood…” She was beginning to tear up. “My mother and father yelled at me and asked what in the world I was thinking, and did I have any sense at all, and didn’t I know that I might have put everyone in danger, and lots of other things I don’t even want to say. And my friends…” By now her shoulders were beginning to tremble, so I had to stop her. “It’s okay, Apple Blossom, you don’t have to say anything else about it,” I said. “I can tell it’s a painful thing to remember.”

            “It is,” she said, wiping her eye with the back of her hand. “Nobody has ever, ever been that mad at me before.”

            “But why were they mad at you?” I asked. “I remember that day. Your mother approved of me, even then. She’s the one who said that I could come back! You even heard her say that—I remember you were eavesdropping from under the table. What made her blow up?”

            “She didn’t blow up!” Apple Blossom said with a gasp. I had forgotten that Jadeites weren’t too hip to figures of speech. “It means, what made her get so angry,” I clarified.

            “It was what the citizens were saying,” Apple Blossom told me. “It was what my friends and their mothers and fathers told them. They had spent the whole next day getting yelled at, being accused of this and that, having rumors spread, being blamed and shamed and having their competence as royalty called into question. My friends’ parents threatened to cut off all association with them, and they threatened to spread it around the Greenwood that my mother and father had connections to humans—such a thing could have branded them as traitors! It was all just too much for them to bear, and so they were angry. Now that I think about it, I think they were angrier with themselves for allowing it to happen than they were with me. But they couldn’t yell at themselves, so they yelled at me.”

            “Well, that wasn’t right,” I told her. “They shouldn’t have taken it out on you. But it’s over now, and nobody’s mad at you anymore.” I patted her shoulder and swallowed the guilt that had welled up inside me for my own contribution to the fury, as indirect as it may have been.

            My phone’s ringing. I think it might be Katie calling to tell me she’s on her way to the café. I need to take this.

11:42 AM

            Apple Blossom is better company than Katie ever was.

            Before we met at the café, I mentally sifted through a list of answers I could give when she inevitably asked where I’d been all of that time. I didn’t want to outright lie to her, but at the same time I wasn’t entirely sure that the truth would be in the Jadeites’ best interests. But then I figured that Katie is my best human friend, and that in all of the years I’d known her I had trusted her with everything. I never made anything up or fabricated anything to her, to the point where she could probably tell if I ever tried to. It would take a lot of lengthy explanation, convincing, and likely multiple repeats to get her to believe a word of it (she had already made it clear the last time I saw her that she couldn’t just believe something like that). But after she understood that I was serious, I was sure that she would at least try to accept it. It wouldn’t be the first time she had to accept my weirdness. There was no need to worry about the Jadeites; Katie wouldn’t try to go after them. She had no reason to, and even so, she would likely be too stunned to even try. Besides, I wouldn’t show her my diary or tell her how to get to the magnolia archway.

            We literally ran into eachother outside of the café and hugged. “Where have you been, you elusive lady?” Katie asked. “I was almost forced to drop in and check up on you!”

            “Oh, you know, I’ve been living my exciting writer’s life,” I said. “You know how that is. But I must say that I’ve found some real adventure this summer. And, well…let’s grab a seat and I’ll tell you everything.”

            “Of course you’ve found adventure,” Katie said with what I like to consider affectionate exasperation. “You’re always finding adventure. You’re always going off to this place and that, sampling foreign cuisine or jet-skiing through the open sea and leaving poor little Katie home alone and bored!” I know that she was ribbing, but I felt sorry for her either way. Katie, a sewing shop worker five days a week, had often complained of being unable to keep up with my adventurous lifestyle.

            “I’m really sorry, chick,” I said, patting her hand. “I feel like crap for making you feel that way. You know that I don’t mean to.” We eased our way into a booth. “Before I tell you anything,” I said, “you have to promise that you’ll believe me, no matter how absolutely absurd it sounds.”

            “It’s you, Aidyn!” Katie said with a chuckle. “I can believe anything that comes out of you!”

            We ordered our coffees before I said, “What if I told you that I’ve had a few dealings with the fair folk—fairies and elves and things like that?”

            “Somehow I’m not surprised,” Katie said with a playful roll of her eyes.

            “All right, so about a month ago,” I began, “I discovered a sort of gateway. You know those woods behind my house, right? Well, I was exploring around back there and I found a gateway. And I met this little elf girl named Apple Blossom. She’s the princess of a land deep within the woods called the Greenwood. It’s a lush and beautiful land where all of these elves live.” Katie was listening intently, as if I was reciting one of my stories. “I’m the first human who has ever been granted admission to the Greenwood,” I continued. “I met the other elves, the king and queen, Apple Blossom’s friends…and we’re all friends now. We have so many wonderful adventures together!” I had been speaking quickly, and I paused to take a breath. Our coffees had arrived, and we ordered our breakfast before I continued.

            “On my first day in the Greenwood,” I went on, taking occasional sips of my coffee, “I had the honor of attending Apple Blossom’s birthday party. Let me remind you that she is a princess! Can you imagine that? Me, of all people, a guest at a royal celebration! And then I went sailing across a brook that rings like a bell, and I’ve gone wading through bogs to pick bushels of cranberry greens. I’ve even gone swimming with mermaids!” Katie wasn’t looking at me then, but at her coffee. “I know you don’t believe me, Katie,” I said. “But think about it, have I ever lied to you before?”

            “It’s not that I think you’re lying,” Katie said, still not looking at me. “I just think that you might be doing a bit of embellishing. I mean, I understand it; you’re taking the ordinary and turning it into the extraordinary, into something worth telling a story about. That’s what a writer does, isn’t it?”

            “Yes, that’s exactly what a writer does,” I said. “But right now, I am honestly not embellishing anything.” I raised my right hand. “I swear on our friendship, Katie,” I said, “I have been having real adventures in a real land of elves.”

            Katie gave me an icy look. “Why would you swear anything on our friendship, especially a story as crazy as that? Aidyn, I know I’ve heard some pretty wild stories from you, but there’s a fine line between wild and outright crazy, and that story rests firmly in the latter category! I can believe wild, but I can’t believe crazy!”

            “Fine, then don’t believe it!” I said. “You asked what I’ve been up to, and I told you.”

            “Yeah, but you didn’t tell me the truth,” she muttered the moment our food arrived. I shot her a glare, she glared right back, we both thanked the waitress, and we ate silently. It was the first time we ever sat down for a meal together without nearly choking to death trying to talk and laugh with food in our mouths. The silence was unnatural, and I knew that it was up to me to be the one to break it. Katie’s stubbornness knew no bounds. “So,” I said after swallowing a bite of pancake, “what have you been up to lately?”

            Katie rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’ve been having the most wonderful adventures in Candy Land with my new pet unicorn, Sprinkles!” she said. “The other day we played together in the enchanted meadow while flower fairies danced all around us! It was just something else, I tell you!”

            I slammed my fork down. “That’s real mature, Katie!” 

            “If you’re going to be immature,” she said, “then so am I.”

            “You asked me where I’ve been,” I said, “and I told you…”

            “…an absolutely ridiculous story that, to any sane person, shows that you’ve got something to hide!” Katie snapped. “Obviously you’ve got this whole secret life now that you have to cover up with childish fairy tales, even to your best friend!” 

            “Katie,” I said, employing my stern school principal expression, “if you’re going to talk to me like that, then maybe we should just go back to being quiet.”

            “You would say that after shutting me and everybody else out for the entire summer!” Katie retorted. “Fine, we’ll be quiet. You’ve been doing such a good job of it after all.”

            I found it hard to swallow my anger with my pancakes. I understood that she was hurt, and I still felt rotten for ever making her feel that way, but did she really need to act like a bratty child about it? Of course I couldn’t have expected her to believe me, but I just assumed that the adult thing to do when you don’t believe someone is to let the matter drop. Silly me for ever thinking that way, I suppose.

            We finished our breakfast in our first dismal silence. I was beginning to wish that I had just lied, made something up on the spot that would be more believable than the truth. I was beginning to understand the meaning of “truth is stranger than fiction,” and now I knew that fiction would have been much more comfortable for Katie. But I’m a bad enough liar as it is, and when it came to lying to a friend, I had no ability. It went against my moral integrity. It was better to tell the unbelievable truth and be accused of lying than to outright lie for real.

            We were still quiet when the waitress came around and the two of us paid our separate checks. I decided that I would not attempt to be the bigger person this time; she could start speaking to me again whenever she felt the need, but I wouldn’t help her along. As she was gathering up her things and adjusting the red hipster beret on her head, she finally said, “Aidyn, if you want me to be honest, we’ve all been very worried about you. And now that you’ve told me that crazy story, I’m even more worried about you!”

            “Well, there’s nothing to worry about,” I said.

            “Maybe I need to drop by and check up on you more often,” she said, and her concern was genuine, which stung me. “If you feel the need to do that,” I told her, “then go right ahead. Just be aware that I’m not likely to be home when you do. And Katie…” I gripped her shoulder tightly then, and I looked her right in the eyes. “…if I’m not home, then please do not come looking for me. Please, for the love of god, do not come looking for me. You’re not very likely to find me, and you’re extremely likely to get lost if you try. If you must, wait at the house for me to come back. But do not come looking for me! Do you understand me, Katie?”

              She nodded and left it at that. But looking back now, I wonder why in the world I had been stupid enough to say something like that. The look on her face is going to haunt me for a good, long while. After the disgraceful way that she treated me today, I could really do without seeing Katie again. But somehow, I have a feeling that I’m going to be forced to see a lot more of her. I am going to go into the Greenwood now, to spend the rest of the day with Apple Blossom and try to get my mind off of Katie.     

Into the Land of the Elves: Chokana and Newt

The Diary of Miss Aidyn Hall, elf friend and storyteller

August 9

9:42 AM

Chokana and Newt

“What do you want to hear first?” I asked Apple Blossom as I opened my diary. “Or do you want me to start from the beginning?’

            “What’s in there?” asked Apple Blossom.

            “Everything,” I said, “from the day I was tagged up to about an hour and a half ago.”

            “Start from the beginning, please,” said Apple Blossom. So I obliged, beginning with my backyard exploration and the discovery of the magnolia archway. I had expected plenty of interjections, but Apple Blossom was a quiet and attentive listener. I ended with the discovery of the tag in my sandal and said, “I think that will be enough for today.” She sighed disappointedly and said, “But you didn’t read anything about me!”

            “I’ll read you that part tomorrow,” I told her. “In fact, I’ll start off with it.”

            “You heard my celebration horns that day,” Apple Blossom informed me.

            “Oh! So that’s what all the honking was about.”

            “Yes,” said Apple Blossom. “Whenever there is a big celebration in the Greenwood, we get to blow the horns. We had smaller, quieter horns at Crystalline’s birthday that only we got to hear, but mine were so loud that the whole wood could hear them.”

            “Lucky you,” I said.

            “You have a pretty backyard, Aidyn,” said Apple Blossom. “I wish I could see more of it. I want to see all of those lovely things you wrote about.”

            “You saw the tiger lilies,” I reminded her. “Besides, nothing in my world could be as lovely as your Greenwood.”

            “I disagree,” was Apple Blossom’s response.

            Apple Blossom is at her lessons now, hopefully discovering the origin story of the doll we found in the fairy tale room. I’ve done all of my work that doesn’t require a computer at the castle, and all of my work that does require a computer at night. What should I do? Watch TV, browse the web? What’s so fun about sitting and watching pictures in a box? Oh! I know! I’ll go out and take pictures of all of the things Apple Blossom liked about my yard: the pond, the cherry tree, the interior of the mini forest…

            Then again, I do have several missed calls piled up on my phone. Half are from my mother, the other half are from my friends who are wondering where the heck I’ve been. Maybe I should return these calls.

            But I won’t talk for very long. I do want to take those pictures.

1:50 PM

            I’m going out for coffee with Katie tomorrow morning. I haven’t see her in nearly a month, and her bitter lament about how she feels forgotten by me stung enough for me to agree to a morning at the café. Apple Blossom understood when I told her during lunch in the garden. “You ought to have some time with other humans,” she said. “You must get tired of being with Jadeites all the time.”

            “I would rather be with Jadeites than humans,” I told her.

            “So would you ever fall in love with one?” Apple Blossom asked, and I nearly dropped the mug of blueberry juice I was sipping from! “Excuse me?” I said. “What did you just ask me?”

            “Do you think you’ll ever meet a nice man from the Greenwood and fall in love with him?” Apple Blossom asked casually.

            I don’t even know any Jadeite men, except for the extremely unavailable king! “What put that idea in your head, Apple Blossom?” I asked.

            “What Beryl told me,” Apple Blossom said, “about the doll.”

            That did it. “What did she say?” I asked, nearly leaping up out of my seat.

            “She told me the whole story, “Apple Blossom said, “though she was quite reluctant to. ‘You’re already far too concerned with humans,’ she told me, ‘and if I tell you this it’ll only encourage you to plunge even deeper into their world and their ways. But I suppose if I don’t tell you, you’ll never let it rest.’” I laughed at her stern impression of her teacher. Clearly, Beryl knows Apple Blossom very well.

            “So she told me,” Apple Blossom continued, “that the doll is a human woman named Chokana. She was alive during the time of the tree elves, and she lived with her family in a forest where lots of tree elves lived. The tree elves didn’t like humans either; they thought they were loud, mean, strange, and always in the way of the forest. But Chokana loved the tree elves. Every day, she would come out into the forest just to watch them and see how they lived. They wouldn’t trust her and they kept away from her. Some even hissed at her, threw sticks and leaves at her, and called her ‘sharrasht,’ which means ‘beast’ in tree elven. But it didn’t stop her from watching them and longing to be their friend.

            “And then there was Newt. Newt was a gatherer who lived with his family in a big red oak tree. While out on a gathering trek one day, he saw Chokana watching him. He had heard stories of the human woman who sat in the bushes watching, and he was told that she was dangerous and to stay far away from her. But when he saw her for the first time, he saw that she was so pretty, and so quiet and sweet. She did not seem so dangerous at all, and he was drawn to her. He approached her and she drew back, because she didn’t know if he meant to shout at her or throw sticks. He told her not to be afraid of him, and though she couldn’t understand him, she understood that his tone was gentle and his face was calm.

            “After that, the two of them started to see eachother, and then they fell in love. Newt’s parents were so angry that he had chosen a human lover that they disowned him. They said that he was foolish, that Chokana was dangerous, and that having him around with Chokana would put their family in danger. Everybody else was so afraid of Chokana that they couldn’t bear to have Newt around if he was going to be with her—and he was going to be with her, because he loved her. So Newt became an outcast.

            “After that, Chokana did everything that she could to take care of Newt. She brought him food. She helped him build a shelter in the middle of the woods, out of the way of both the tree elf wood and the human village. She would visit him every day, and the two of them would explore the forest together. The doll of Chokana has her arms outstretched to Newt in an embrace.”

            “So we need to find Newt,” I said.

            “Yes, we do,” said Apple Blossom with a nod. “But I really must finish the story first!” Her eyes were wide with urgency. “I’m listening,” I told her.

            “Newt and Chokana went out on one of their walks through the forest,” Apple Blossom continued, “when they came upon a little rock quarry in the middle of a mossy clearing. Rock quarries aren’t especially uncommon in the forest, but this was different from the others they had seen; this one had several strange, jaggedy stones that were bright green, and Newt had never, ever seen a green stone before. Chokana had, though, and she told him about jades.

            “The jaggedy little stones that they found didn’t look a thing like jades. Jades, Chokana told Newt, were brilliant, round, and shiny stones the color of the leaves on the trees. These were rough and chalky stones that were only a hint of green, the color of the moss on the ground all around them. They ignored these stones, but Chokana promised Newt that she would bring a real jade stone for him to see. Jades were used for jewelry and crafting in Chokana’s village. Chokana had a jade necklace, and the next day she wore it when she went to see Newt. Those brilliant jades were nothing like the chalky green stones in the quarry, and Newt was absolutely enchanted by them. In fact, he was drawn to them in a way that they seemed to be calling to him, coaxing him to come closer. He sensed that there was a sort of energy in them, a force. It was as if they were a live thing that had a spirit.”

            “The jade essences!” I said with a gasp.

            “Yes,” said Apple Blossom, “but he couldn’t have known about the jade essences then. He only knew that the jades possessed energy that he could feel. He asked Chokana if she could feel it too, but she said that she couldn’t; the jades were only ordinary stones to her.

            “But together, the two of them made attempts to tap into that energy. They slept with jades under their pillows. They meditated under the sun with a jade in each hand. They walked through the forest with jades around their necks and in their pockets, and bathed in the stream surrounded by jade stones on all sides. They spent almost all of their time with jades, and it got so just about everything that they did involved a jade in some way. For Chokana, none of this made any difference. But for Newt, it meant everything! Newt succeeded, Aidyn! He succeeded in tapping into those jade energies and using them! Newt was the very first tree elf to harness the jade essences!”

            “How did he use them?” I asked. I became increasingly aware that my heart was pounding against my chest like it was trying to bust down a door. “What did he do with the jade essences? How did he know that he had tapped into them?”

            “Newt began to change,” Apple Blossom said. “He developed certain abilities: he could make moss and heathers grow on dry, barren patches of soil. Soon, he learned to grow flowers in this way. The flowers he grew at first were small and scrawny, but he gave them as gifts to Chokana and she was always delighted with them. His newfound power allowed him to tap in to the energies of the trees and manipulate them, allowing them to produce apples in the summer, berries in the fall. The trees spoke to him now, not in the wind or the rustle of the leaves, but in his own language. They told him where to find food, how to navigate the forest, and if there were any changes in the weather that he ought to be aware of. He brought Chokana to all of the lovely streams, glades, and wild gardens that they would direct him to. By then, he knew enough of Chokana’s language, and she knew enough of his, to tell her about all of the things the trees whispered to him. The magic that Newt found within the jades changed the way he looked as well. Green streaks appeared in his hair, and flecks of green appeared in his hazel eyes. Even his skin began to turn green—though only slightly, like those jaggedy stones in the quarry.”

            “Wait a minute!” I interjected. “Do you mean to tell me that Newt became the first Jadeite?”

                Apple Blossom shook her head. “Newt didn’t become the first Jadeite,” she said. “But…” She looked right into my eyes then, and her own eyes showed me that she was about to drop some news of epic proportions. An ear to ear grin began to form, and I braced myself. “Newt became the father of the first Jadeite!” she told me. “The first Jadeite was Newt and Chokana’s child!” 

The Knights of the Jewel: The Arrival

Ion opened his eyes to a sky streaked with golden beams. He blinked twice, held his hands out in front of his face, and sat up when he was sure that he was able to move. His lance lay beside him, and he took hold of it and held on as if it was the only thing that anchored him to reality. He had lost his horse, his opponent, and the raucous crowd that had been cheering them on at their joust, and even the jousting arena itself had vanished without a trace. He remembered that he had been pitched from his horse and that his lance had been forced out of his hand, and the overwhelming shame he felt upon hitting the ground and realizing that he had been defeated; Mighty Ion of Lamorak, never before bested in joust or battle, done in by a country boy just barely into knighthood! As the world blurred before his eyes, he longed for the comfort of death rather than a life to live in dishonor.

            If this was death, it did nothing for the shame, for it came flooding back upon the memory. He fought away the tears that burned his eyes, for even a humiliating first—and final—defeat must be handled with dignity. Closing his eyes, he could see the colorful lights that had been the last thing he saw before going under. There were eight of them, in eight different colors of equal brilliance. Ion had allowed them to overpower him, trusting them to lead him to the peace found n death. Wherever they meant to take him was preferable to returning to Lamorak, where he would live the life of a knight stripped of his honor; the life of a pariah, mocked by all of those who once revered him.

            Ion rose to his feet and examined his surroundings. He was alone, surrounded on all sides by lush green fields that stretched out into a distant fir forest. It had been May Day in Lamorak, but out here it was as warm as a day in midsummer. If this is heaven, wondered Ion, then where are the saints? It cannot be hell, for it is too peaceful. But if I am to be alone, with nothing to satisfy my need for combat nor to challenge me and test my might, then perhaps it is my private hell.

            He took a few steps, though he wasn’t sure how productive it was to wander in a place like this. He still held tightly to his lance, the only memento of his life as Mighty Ion of Lamorak. If I am dead, he pondered, then how and why has my lance crossed over with me? There must be a need for it. Yes, there must be an enemy to overcome, somebody to defeat...redemption for my shameful performance in the joust! Ion began to run, though he did not know where he was going. The idea of a battle brought his energy back to him. Though his ceremonial lance was no serious weapon, he was driven into action by the very idea of a fight, as well as his passion for such affairs.

            He halted in his tracks when he caught sight of a pale little figure emerging from the fir trees. From a distance, he could only see golden hair and the shimmer of a moon-white gown. A dainty physique indicated a woman. He took off his helmet so that he might not look so intimidating, waved his hand, and called out to her. He saw her turn to look in his direction, and then she came towards him, hitching up her skirts so that she might pace herself. As she came closer, he saw that she was young—perhaps eighteen—and that her soulful sapphire-colored eyes seemed to take up her entire face. The front of her golden hair was braided, the rest trailed down like a veil. Her lips were the color of an early spring rose and the shape of a heart. Her white gown was tiered like a wedding gown and accented with a velvety sash the color of the sky.  Ion wondered if she might be an angel, or even a saint. She did not look like any of the saints that he had learned about from the priests, but he wondered if even priests could be so sure of what the saints really looked like.

            The maiden stopped in front of Ion and looked up at him with a mixture of shyness and curiosity on her angelic face. He smiled cordially and held out his hand to her. “Salutations, my lady,” he said as gently as he could manage.

             “H…hello,” she shakily stammered. She took his hand and he shook it lightly. “Do you…do you think you can tell me where I am? I’m awfully lost.”

            “If you are lost,” said Ion, “then so must I be. I haven’t any idea what or where this place may be, though when I arrived here I thought that it might be heaven or hell.”

            “Heaven or hell!” the girl exclaimed. “My goodness, I hope that it’s neither! I’m not ready to go to either place, and if I’ve died, I can’t possibly imagine how!”

            “I woke up here after I was thrown from my horse,” said Ion.

            “Oh dear!” cried the girl. “Are you all right?”

            “Only my pride is injured,” said Ion, wincing at the shame.

            “You were in a battle?” she asked him.

            “A joust,” he answered. To change the subject, he asked, “What is your name?”

            “Lovisa,” the girl replied. “And yours?”

            “Ion, Mighty Ion of the Knights of Lamorak. Do you know of Lamorak?”

            “I’ve never heard of such a place,” said Lovisa. “I’m from Eridell.”

            “I can’t say that I’ve heard of it,” said Ion.

            “It’s a wonderful place,” said Lovisa. “It’s very peaceful. I was out wandering, just seeing where the road would take me, and I suppose it decided to take me here. You don’t really think that this might be the afterlife, do you?” The girl’s sapphire eyes displayed unconcealed fear and uncertainty, which softened Ion’s heart. “I had my suspicions,” he said to her, “but I don’t think that you are dead. Did you wake up here, as I did, or did you simply wander in?”

            “I’m sure that I wandered in,” said Lovisa, “but it was on account of some strange lights that appeared before me.”

            Ion looked her in the eyes. “Tell me about these lights,” he said gravely.

            “They weren’t very bright, but they were very colorful,” Lovisa explained. “There were about eight of them. They appeared on the road right in front of me, and I thought that they might be fairies or pixies, so I followed after them.”

            “What were the colors?” Ion inquired.

            “I remember that one was green,” said Lovisa, “another was red, and one was a beautiful turquoise blue…”

            ‘I have also seen these lights,” said Ion. “They appeared in the blackness that enveloped me when my head hit the ground, and they led me here.”

            “Are you sure that these were the same lights?” Lovisa asked, the rate of her voice quickening in excitement.

            “I am not,” said Ion, “but…there’s somebody approaching.” He moved to stand in front of Lovisa, who craned her neck to get a better look at the figure that was heading towards them. They wore a deep red hooded robe trimmed with golden threads, which completely obscured their features. A priest, thought Ion, or a mage. He maintained a tight grip on his lance. “Don’t move,” he warned Lovisa. The two of them stood their ground as the figure slowly approached them, kicking its long robes at the hem as it walked. It stopped at Ion and Lovisa’s feet and stood quietly, examining them behind its hood, and Lovisa instinctively took a step back. They could see the bottom half of a face the color of tea cream. Finally, the hood was removed to reveal a woman of about thirty, with hazel-colored hair tied in a braid around the crown of her head.

            “You are spirits?” the woman asked.

            “We are not,” replied Ion. “I am Ion of Lamorak.”

            “I am Lovisa,” Lovisa said, “of Eridell. And if we are spirits, we certainly don’t know it!”

            “Interesting,” the woman said, brushing the sleeve of her robe with her hand. “So this is not the spirit world?”

            “Not that we know of,” Lovisa answered, “but we are not sure exactly what this is, or where it is.”

            “How did you arrive here?” Ion asked. “And what is your name?”

            “Eluani,” the woman replied. “I was…” But she was interrupted by the sight of others emerging from the horizon, coming forth from the forest, scrambling over the field. There were five of them, and by the looks of them they were human, or at least humanlike. “Here, over here!” Ion called out to them, waving his hands. They paused and turned to look in his direction. Only one of them heeded his call without pause or hesitation, an autumn-haired young lady with long ears pointed like those of a storybook elf. Her long, fast legs carried her over the field as quickly as those of a running deer. After a period of indecision followed by assessment, the other four finally decided to follow after her, though they were unable to keep up with her pace. She reached Ion’s party several feet ahead of the others and took a moment to catch her breath. Her face was angelic and ethereal, the only genuine example of a perfect face that either of them had ever seen. Her clean creamy skin, willowy physique, and pointed ears suggested a member of the fair folk in every way. The girl was struck dumb, confusion and fear as plain as the nose on her face. Eluani nodded cordially and said, “Don’t be afraid. Speak. Tell us who you are.”

            Behind her, the others had caught up. They stood several paces behind the elven girl, gawking at their unexpected company, shifting around on their feet, and muttering to themselves. The girl quickly glanced at them before saying, “My name is Alicia. I am an Earth Sylph, from Clan Meadow-Vale of Areida.”

            “An Earth Sylph,” Lovisa said in awe. “I have only heard of the kind that live in the clouds and the skies, and even then, only in stories!”

            “How did you arrive here?” Ion asked.

            “I thought that I was answering the call of the Elementals,” Alicia explained. “In our lore, the Elementals of the Earth signal those that they mean to give their personal blessing, and this blessing can be anything; the ability to manipulate fire, the power to call upon the auras of the air, a simple perk such as fast feet or a quick-thinking mind. I was thrilled to have been selected, because it is an honor that most only ever dream of! I answered the call, following the signal until it faded away…but the Elementals did not appear! Instead, there were only these humans, and this woman who claims to be a fairy from the land of Arganell.”

            “I do not claim,” a woman behind her spoke out. “I am a fairy—a fairy of the twilight, to be precise—and I am from Arganell.” She was not an especially small woman, and she did not have wings, as might be expected of a typical fairy. But even in the sunlight, she glowed as if she were made of stars, and the effect contributed to an odd distortion in the air around her. She shifted uncomfortably, and now and again shot a disdainful look towards the sun that was as warm and intense as on any morning in midsummer.

            “Right, of course,” Alicia said abruptly. “I am sorry, Morgana! Anyhow, I asked where the Elementals might be, and if it was now their way to give blessings to others outside of the Earth Sylphs. They told me that they knew nothing about Elementals, and that they all had their own reasons for coming here. Like Morgana, for instance, told me that she had been enticed by the sight of a globe of colorful lights that had appeared in the night sky above her.” 

            “I thought that it might harbor some great power,” Morgana explained.

            “My horse was startled and bucked me off his back,” said a jet-haired young man in dirty cutoff jeans. “I was thrown down a ravine, and when I finally stopped tumbling and rolling I ended up here.”

            “Did you also see lights?” asked Ion.

            “My head was spinning too much for me to see anything,” the young man replied. “But I remember a sort of colorful dazzle in my eyes.”

            “I saw the lights,” said a man with a silver harp at his side. “They appeared to me suddenly while I was working on my melody. It’s a melody that I’ve played often enough, but this had never happened before! The lights appeared—I counted eight of them—and their glow seemed to resonate with the chords that I was playing. I played and I watched them until I fell into a sort of daze. When I was freed from my trance, I found myself in this lovely meadow.”

            “This cannot be a coincidence,” Eluani determined. “I’ve also seen these lights, in my scrying pool. There were eight lights, and at least most of us have seen them. There are eight of us, and all of us have been led here, to meet in the same place. It’s all too convenient for there not to be a purpose behind it. There is a reason for our being here. We’ve all been chosen for something, by someone.”

            “There’s no one around to have chosen us,” said the jet-haired young man.

            “No one that we can see,” Ion pointed out.

            “What if we were chosen for some nefarious purpose?” inquired an armored man with a rifle at his shoulder.

            “It’s too beautiful out here to be nefarious,” Lovisa said.

            “Never think that way,” the rifle-wielder said sternly. “It is how you get wrapped up in a false sense of security.”

            “What should we do?” asked Alicia. “I don’t feel entirely safe about just wandering this place.”

            “I will choose two of you to set out with me to survey the area,” said Ion. “The rest of you will stay here and remain together. If there are any threats, holler and do what you can to fight them off. Eluani, come with me.” He turned to the rifle-wielder. “I want you to come with me as well.”

            “Please be careful,” Lovisa said to Ion as Eluani and the rifle-wielder took their places at his side.

            “There is nothing out there that could pose a threat to me,” Ion assured her, patting her head.

            “If you don’t come back…” Lovisa began.

            “We will,” said Ion. His natural passion for the fight had returned to him, and the shame of his first defeat was already a distant memory. Whatever was out there, he would take it by storm. The rifle-wielder unstrapped the weapon from his back and checked it. Ion donned his helmet. The others, as instructed, stayed close to one-another, huddled together like campers around a fire. Only Morgana sat alone, wincing and grimacing at the touch of the sun’s rays. The rifle-wielder removed his shoulder pads and gauntlets in order to take off his uniform jacket and drape it around her.

            “Thank you,” she said dryly. Through the heather-colored jacket, a glowing aura could be seen.

To boost the company’s morale, the bard began to strum out a few chords, which evolved into a comforting melody. Lovisa watched Ion, Eluani, and the rifle-wielder as each step took them farther away, off into the unknown in search of who-knew-what. She shivered slightly with anxiety for the three and for the five camped out in this strange but beautiful meadow so far from their homes. She sat down beside the bard and hoped that the sound of his harp would drive away her unease.

The brightness of a golden morning made way for a warm and pleasant afternoon. The five could not be entirely sure of the time, but Rodin, the jet-haired boy, assured them that the position of the sun indicated that it was around one in the afternoon. Alicia danced to the rhythm of the upbeat jig that Sanjaia, the bard, played on his harp. Lovisa happily pranced around the meadow, plucking flowers to fashion into a nosegay. Her anxiety for Ion and his party had almost completely left her, though they still remained in her thoughts. She was in the process of arranging the daisies she had picked into a formation when she spotted the three making their way over the hill up ahead, Ion taking the lead with his helmeted head held high. “They’re back, everyone!” Lovisa cried, relieved to see that the three were safe. “Ion and the others are back! They’ve returned!”

“Finally,” said Morgana. Sanjaia ceased his harp playing and rose to his feet. The others watched as Ion and his party crested the hill and made their way across the field. By the looks of them, they had not run into any danger, though of course it is always difficult to tell by looks. Alicia was the first to greet them. “What did you find?” she asked excitedly. “Did you see anybody else? Did you find out where we are or why we’re here?”

Ion removed his helmet and took a seat on the grass. “First of all,” he began, “the forest that you see surrounding the fields can hardly be called a forest at all. It’s a small area of woodland that proved to be laughably easy to traverse. Troy, Eluani, and I expected a fight through thickets of brush and hanging vines and boots packed with mud. What we got was a rather leisurely trek through a grove of firs and shrubs, with the occasional wayward branch lying in our way—easily thrown aside. It was hardly any effort at all to make our way through to the other side, and when we did so we came upon a white dirt road. It looked as though someone had drawn a chalk line through the countryside, and there was no sign of civilization that we could see. We followed this road, and the thick white sand that it was made out of made for quite a difficult walk. Eluani was having an especially hard time of it in her flat shoes and long robes. I offered to carry her, but she would not allow it.  Troy offered her his shoulder, and she was agreeable to that.

“Eluani saw the castle before we did. She said that she could see, off in the distance, six white stone towers reaching up out of an otherwise unremarkable spot of country. Troy and I craned our necks, shaded our eyes, stood up on our toes, and did all that we could to see these towers for ourselves. But we saw nothing of the sort, either close by or in the distance. I suppose that Troy feared that dehydration was making her delirious, and he offered her a sip from his water canteen. But she rejected it and insisted that she felt fine. We figured that she had been telling a story, perhaps in an attempt to keep up our spirits on such a long and dreary walk. We did not say anything more about it.”

“But I wasn’t telling stories,” Eluani said, flashing him a cheeky grin, “was I, Ion?”

“Indeed, you were not,” said Ion with a good-natured smile. “After we had walked ahead for about a mile, maybe two, we found Eluani’s towers. There they were, the six of them rising up out of a little grove of fir trees. We realized then that Eluani has a gift of clairvoyance, of future sight.”

“And I don’t suppose a castle was very helpful to you,” said Morgana. “They never are.”

“For your information, my lady, we were not able to reach the castle.” Ion was stung by Morgana’s generalization. His own castle always did all that they could to help vagrants, wanderers, and travelers who had lost their way. “It was much too far off,” he went on. “To travel there would have taken up the rest of the day, and possibly a substantial amount of the night after that.”

 “I’m glad that you decided to return to us instead!” said Lovisa.

“I figured that we can camp out here for the remaining hours of the day,” concluded Ion, “and then early tomorrow morning, the eight of us will set out for the castle together. Even if those at the castle prove to be unhelpful, there is likely to be a city or a village nearby.”

“Let me speak to those at the castle,” said Alicia. “I’m the princess of Clan Meadow-Vale, and I’ll tell them that I’m there on behalf of my clan and that you are my company.”

“You are a princess!” Ion exclaimed. “My apologies, your grace, but I couldn’t have known!” He knelt down beside her and bowed his head, and Alicia was taken aback by his sudden formality. “There is nothing to apologize for!” she assured him. The Earth Sylphs’ troops did not behave in such a manner. She was their equal, and they would never kneel or submit to her.

“And what are you people going to eat?” Morgana asked. “I don’t suppose that you humans can get by off of light in the way that I can, and I don’t suppose that anyone thought to bring food with them on their unexpected trip to who-knows-where.”

“I just have a sandwich, an apple, and a bottle of water in my bag,” said Rodin. “I’m not sure how well I can split those among eight people.”

“Seven,” Morgana corrected him.

“I can manage off of foliage from the trees,” said Alicia, “but I don’t suppose it’s the same for humans. If we look through the woods, though, we might find some fruits to eat.”

“I’ve brought a few rations with me,” said Troy, opening up a pouch on his belt and producing some dried fruits and thin slabs of meat. “But since I’m the only one with a gun, I’ll go out hunting.”

Everybody had something to do. Eluani and Rodin calculated the number of people that Rodin and Troy’s rations could be split between. They determined that the sandwich could be portioned for four people and the apple could be cut in half. The water bottle was large enough to be passed to everybody at least once, so long as everybody took their fair share. The dried fruits and the slabs of meat could go to two each. The others, with the exception of Morgana, had gone out into the woods to hunt and gather. Lovisa and Alicia were frequently startled by the sound of Troy’s rifle.  Morgana assigned herself the task of making a cooking fire, a task that she insisted she could do without anybody’s help. The sparks that emanated from her fingers had startled everyone else and enchanted Rodin, who sat down beside her to watch her at work.

“Focus on your own tasks, boy,” Morgana said coldly.

“I’m sorry,” said Rodin, a bit taken aback by being spoken to in such a way. “It’s just that I have waited my entire life to see a fairy. My city of Shalorre glorifies the fairies and their magic, but to actually see one…well, most have never had the opportunity!”

“I suppose that the human existence is so dull,” was Morgana’s callous reply, “that they will place anything outside of their norm on a pedestal to be glorified.”

Rodin supposed that the fairy woman was still upset by her sudden displacement so far from her home. He left her to her work.

        Sandwich fragments, apple halves, and dried fruit were only a fraction of the dinner that was shared by seven of the eight that evening. Troy had managed to bring down a fat wild pig which had enough meat to go around. In addition to the foliage that she had gathered for herself, Alicia had used a makeshift harpoon fashioned out of a branch to catch fish from a stream. Lovisa and Sanjaia found and nearly cleared out a thicket full of ripe wild strawberries and blackberries. They had expected meager rations and been presented with a feast, and it made them lively and merry and prone to cheerful conversation, and even bouts of song and dance courtesy of the bard. Even Morgana, lying stretched out in a spot where the starlight easily reached her, was in good enough spirits to sing. The cacophony of chatter and song was interrupted by the clear, bell-like, ethereal voice that resonated so loudly above it. They could not understand the words that she was singing, but the sound was something pure and magical and it placed the seven of them under a sort of spell. Ion and Troy were reminded of the angels in heaven that they had learned about from priests and churches. Alicia thought of the sounds of the wind, the streams, the birds calling from their treetop perches, and the angelic-faced nymphs that co-existed so peacefully with the Earth Sylphs. Rodin’s mind was filled with fairy stories, fairy magic, and the fairylands that were rumored to be hidden within Shalorre and its surrounding cities. Here was a girl from one of those fairylands, lying on the grass right there in front of him and singing for all she was worth.