Four Children Of The Three Lands

By Andrew Walker

A curse has been placed on the world, and it is broken. As the world struggles to recover, four children from the area known as the Three Lands find themselves learning some hard lessons as they are thrust into adult roles to help their community survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Walker
• Release date: Nov 4, 2009
• ISBN: 9781452311968

Andrew Walker

 Andrew T. Walker (PhD, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary) is associate professor of Christian ethics and public theology at the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary and an associate dean in the School of Theology. He is a fellow with the Ethics and Public Policy Center and managing editor of WORLD Opinions. He resides with his wife and three daughters in Louisville, Kentucky. 

Book preview

Chapter 1: Aftermath

Struck down into the ocean

Mighty Rark spat a curse

"If I am not suffered to live

The world will have its hearse!"

Martus Merrymac, The Ballad of the Mighty Rark, 1328-7 ER

~~~~

The humans came from the east, traveling in ragged little bands. They looked harder hit than the rest, although that may have simply been their lack of organization. Their communities on the east coast were in ruins, swallowed up by the ocean or shaken to death. The inland villages fared even worse. The few survivors fled westward in fear of further catastrophe.

The dwarves came from the north, from the Nine Mountains of Zeerot. The mountains shook as never before, collapsing nearly every single tunnel the stocky race carved within them. Most of those that fled south had the fortune to not be in the mountains at the time, a rarity for their kind and a blessed circumstance for those individuals still among the living.

The elves came from the west, from the great forest known as Destra'Fae, or Tears of the People. Although the frailest of the three races, most of their number survived. Their trees toppled, their homes collapsed, and all manner of foul weather came from the sky, but they dodged and cast magic to hold back the worst of it as they made their escape to the east.

They came to the place once known to the humans as Center City, to the elves as Spec'Unis or Gathering of All, and to the dwarves as Brickwork. Where this great city stood, a hole now sat in its place. It was nothing more than a deep, rocky rupture in the fabric of the world.

The survivors lined up on three sides of the canyon where the city once reached for the sky. Their leaders gathered close and talked, hoping to find answers to what confronted them. They spoke for three days at the bottom of the vast pit.

With their diplomats and most of their former leaders among the dead or missing, the three groups easily agreed they must unite as never before to rebuild the Three Lands into a place of prosperity. Plans were made and tossed aside, tempers heated and cooled, but eventually all found agreement.

They decided they would live outside the hole while they made something better of it, keeping their respective directions until new homes could be constructed. Though none were happy, neither did any choose to fight. The source of their ills came from elsewhere, not from each other. The adults gave each other respect while the children found ways to make merry.

*

With curly black hair, brown eyes, and the determination of youth, Dale Eastwedge was a typical human boy of thirteen years, as the others saw him: Full of the fire of few years, fearless as those of his age tended to be, and undaunted by the collapsed world around him. When the ocean rose and consumed the seaside town he lived in, he never doubted he and his family would survive. To his credit, he did not complain on the long journey to the scar where Center City once stood, although he certainly felt tired and hungry most of the way. Most of the other human children whined bitterly while their exhausted parents dragged or carried them along. He was proud that his little sister did not whine or complain either.

When his family sought a new place to live or at least make camp, Dale sought new friends. His old friends were gone, killed in the disaster that nearly took the lives of his own family as far as he knew. The first new friend he made was a fellow a little over half his height and twice his width, a dwarf by the name of Farr Brickstriker.

Dwarven children mature faster than elves but slower than humans in most ways. At close to forty years old, Farr was the equivalent of a human of fifteen or sixteen or an elf twice his age. He had dirty brown hair and a beard that made most of the kids his age jealous, as it dropped to the middle of his chest.

The two young men, Farr and Dale, invented a game using some of the smaller stones, rolling them about like marbles on the flat surface that once formed the wall of some great building in Center City. Before long, an elf girl joined them, playing the game just as enthusiastically as they did.

The elf’s name was Missalore, and she found amusement and passion in everything they did. At over five feet tall when she stood straight up, she was almost a foot taller than Dale and nearly two feet taller than Farr. She had dirty blonde hair that fell to her waist, and crystal clear blue eyes that easily drew people's attention when she felt the need for it.

It was Missalore's sharp eyes that first caught sight of the heavily cloaked figure that watched the game the trio played. The stranger squatted twenty feet way, keeping their back to a slab of stone with their face deeply hidden in the shadows of a wide hood.

We're being watched, the elf girl told her new friends.

Dale looked up from the game, glance around, and then asked, By who?

Mr. Mysterious over there.

Dale looked towards where Missalore nodded her head, but all the boy saw was a slab of stone. I don't see anybody, he said.

Missalore looked at where the stranger stood a moment before and frowned. Rolling her eyes, she told them, I'll be back.

The elf girl darted away, running away from the stone slab where she saw the odd figure. She nimbly ran about the rocks, keeping low and never slipping as she made a wide circle that brought her to a spot a dozen yards on the other side of the slab.

Sure enough, the stranger still watched, but from the shadowy side of the rocky outcropping. With a mischievous grin, Missalore crept up behind the cloaked figure, and tapped them on the shoulder.

Startled, the stranger whipped about, hissing at Missalore. The reaction surprised the elf girl, and she stumbled back, giving out a little shriek as she fell on her back.

You should be more careful! the figure hissed.

And you need to calm down! the elf girl cried. Why are you watching us anyway?

The stranger deflated a little and then calmly said, I was only curious.

Then come play with us.

The hood moved back and forth slowly, and stranger quietly said, No. It is not for me.

Are you too old? Too young? I can't even see your face to tell, Missalore said as she stood up again.

My face is mine to hide.

The elf girl shrugged and then took a step as if to move past the stranger and back to her game. Quick as a flash, her hand darted out and threw the hood off the figure's head. It was back up almost as fast, but not before Missalore got a good look. Although they stood in the shadow of the stone slab, the elf girl saw who it was.

Eyes wide, Missalore muttered an apology and stumbled away, quickly breaking into a run. She ran over to her companions, skidding to a stop. The elf girl looked back to where the stranger stood beside the rock, feeling the glare of the cloaked figure as she sank to the ground.

What's the matter with you? Dale asked.

She... was all Missalore could say.

She what? Farr asked with a questioning eyebrow.

When Missalore remained silent, Dale got to his feet, scowling. Before the elf could stop him, he started to walk towards the shadowy figure.

No, Dale! the elf girl cried, getting to her feet again.

The human boy waved a dismissive hand at her, not slowing as he walked up to the stone slab. The stranger watched him every step of the way, tensed as if she meant to run away at the slightest excuse.

Sorry about that, the boy said.

About what? the stranger asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Missalore. I just met her yesterday myself, but I can already tell she's into trouble.

The stranger remained silent for a moment, and then said, Do you know what she saw?

Dale shrugged. Not really. I caught a glimpse of hair, I think, but your back was to us when she did it.

Do you know what scares her so?

The boy shook his head. I think I already answered that. I didn't see you. What's so scary about your face?

Slowly, the stranger raised gloved hands to her face and pulled the hood back. Her face was even thinner than Missalore's, with bright yellow hair that disappeared into the back of her cloak. Her ears were pointed, like the elf's, but even more so, half a foot tall from bottom to top. The odd girl's nose was flat, almost to the point of not being there, with nostrils only a little bigger than pinpricks.

Her most distinctive feature, however, were the red, blue, and yellow scales that decorated her cheeks and ears in a symmetrical pattern. She had a pair of dark yellow, scaly ridges where eyebrows should have been.

The boy raised an eyebrow and said, You're cute.

The girl's eyes went wide and she blushed a little. I'm...what?

I did not stutter. You're cute. Is that what scared Missy?

Shaking her head slowly, the girl said, No, I don't think... I'm not cute. I am an abomination.

A what? Dale asked, his eyebrows going up in surprise.

I... I'm a half-dragon, and a very mixed breed at that. An abomination.

Dale shrugged. I still think you're cute. Anyway, you can come play with us if you want, or just keep watching.

The boy turned and walked away. The half-dragon stared after him for a moment, and then stepped out of the shadows. She stopped to pull her hood up, suddenly realizing she left her face exposed.

The stranger stood for a moment, watching as the trio continued their game. Temptation got the best of her a minute later. She strode over to where they played and sat down. Her walk had an odd, swaying gait to it, as if her legs weren't quite right.

Dale looked up at her and asked, You have a name?

When the girl did not answer, Missalore looked up at the half-dragon with wide eyes. Jentria, isn't it?

The half-dragon nodded, then slowly sat down. That is what I am called, when my name is used.

Farr snorted. And what else would people call you?

Jentria’s hood turned to Missalore. Would you care to tell him?

The elf girl grimaced, blushing a little. Nothing very nice, she answered.

Things that translate to 'Mixed,' 'Abomination,' or 'Mistake,' among other, less kind things.

What's wrong with Jentria? Dale asked.

"Her mother was...at one time...very respected in Destra'Fae. She led communities that lost their way until they became strong again, then went to find another. Over the course of three centuries she did this, never once taking anyone to be her husband. It is said she had lovers, though none ever spoke up.

One day, a stranger came into my mother's village. He was...or, at least, he appeared to be...an elf from some other elf community, somewhere far from Destra’Fae.

A dragon in disguise?

The half-dragon nodded. Yes, and not just any dragon. In your tongue he is known as Sperry, ninth-born of Spectra.

The boy's eyes went a little wide. And your mother didn't know that?

Jentria nodded. He was in disguise, but only so he could travel through our lands without hindrance. He was not one to fly as other dragons do; he preferred to walk.

The story I've heard says he was injured when he came to your mother's village, and she healed him, Missalore said.

Yes, that's true. My mother also says that she knew him for what he was from the first, for her powers of healing came from Spectra. She always told me when I was young how much she loved him, although he did not return her emotion with the passion she felt.

Let me get this straight, Farr said. Your dad's dad is Spectra, the God of Variety?

Yes, the half-dragon said quietly.

And your mom was pretty well-liked before she had this affair with your dad?

Jentria nodded. Very much so.

And now what do people think of her?

There was silence for several seconds before Missalore spoke up, although she seemed embarrassed by what she said. "Her father...was partly responsible for the destruction of several villages. Her father does not follow Spectra's ways, and people have long questioned her mother's choices where he was concerned."

How long ago did this village-destroying thing happen? Dale asked.

Before I was born, Missalore said. Over eighty years ago.

Eight-five, in fact, the half-dragon said with a nod. I was five.

"So you're an outcast for something your dad was partly responsible for?" Farr asked, disbelieving what he heard.

Not formally, Jentria said. Elves rarely make anyone an outcast. Even my father, if he still lived, would be allowed in our lands again, for his association with my mother made him a part of our people, even though they did not approve of it. My mother...left of her own accord twenty-five years ago.

The dwarf boy snorted. Elves are weird, he said, earning him a sharp look from Missalore.

Dale shrugged, and said, Okay, here are the rules of the game—

I know them, I think. I have been watching for some time, Jentria said.

The human boy smiled. Then grab some stones and let's play.

*

Time passed, and the adults talked day and night of what to do next. The old names for where the city stood became a part of history, and the new residents agreed on a fresh one: Rupture.

Once this decision was made, the next question was asked, and debated over hotly. That a city would be built where the old one stood was not in doubt, only whether they would bury the old to build the new, or dig out the old, and use its remains to build the new.

In the end, the people chose to go the more difficult route of digging out the old. Lost family members might be found and properly put to rest, and when it was done they could be more at ease about the stability of Rupture's foundation.

All three races planned the excavation. The dwarves, used to such work, would do most of the physical work, with significant assistance from the humans. The elves would break the rubble into smaller pieces with significant help from the dwarves. Groups from all three races would hunt and forage, keeping everyone fed.

Shortly after the work got underway, the first catastrophe of the effort struck. Dale and his new friends were at play, perfecting their latest method of self-entertainment. It was a form of hide-and-seek, but each player had a handicap, and no one was it. Each needed to keep hidden from the others while trying to find the rest. To win, one had to touch another player before being seen.

Missalore excelled at the game, although her handicap was to wear a bright piece of cloth, making her a little easier to be seen. Jentria had to stand straight up because, at nearly seven feet tall, she had more trouble blending in with her surroundings.

Dale had to move with his shoes tied together, for he moved too quick otherwise. In spite of the height difference, he could nearly keep up with Jentria most of the time. Farr had to carry a stick around and wave it high in the air for a few seconds whenever he stopped.

Missalore had just won another round, having tagged all three of her companions with ease, when a loud crack like thunder echoed through the rocky valley from the north. The elf and her last target, Jentria, stepped out in the open near where the boys waited for the game to be over.

All four looked north. I wonder what that was, Dale mused.

Jentria's face, hidden inside her cloak’s hood, scowled and said, Something broke.

I think she's right, Missalore said. Her elven ears, though not as sensitive as the half-dragon's, were still better than the boys'.

Let's go see, Dale suggested. He didn't wait for agreement, but started north over the rocky terrain, barely taking the time to fix his shoelaces.

The others trailed behind, not as curious but used to following the human's lead. After moving over the rough terrain for several minutes, a man moved past them, running south as fast as he could. Dale shouted a question at him, but the only word of the man's response any of them could make out was collapsed.

They soon came to the area where excavation was under way. Unlike the rest of the pit, it was relatively flat to make moving around easier as they dug deeper into the ruin.

East of the center point of the cleared area, part of a broken pillar stood out at an angle. A few minutes earlier, just as the children finished their game, the top portion broke off and smashed where some of the workers were digging. The already unstable ground collapsed, dropping the unfortunate group into a thirty-foot deep hole.

People in the area moved frantically about, paying no attention to the four children who approached the hole, too busy trying to find a way to rescue those who fell in. Dale and his friends moved to the edge and looked down.

The top half of the pillar, though cracked, remained in one piece at the bottom of the hole. Rubble was scattered about, marring what was otherwise a clean chamber.

Dang! Missalore cried. How are they going to get out of there?

Dale looked at the leaning pillar that still stood above the surface. The others followed his gaze, and Farr said, "That does not look very stable. I think it was straight up before."

The human boy frowned, and said, I think you're right.

Jentria sighed. I might be able to help, she said.

The others looked at her. Missalore smiled, and said, I bet you could. You've got most of a dragon's strength, don't you?

The half-dragon nodded. That, and something else. She hopped off the edge, and spread the rainbow-hued, leathery, bat-like wings she normally kept concealed under her cloak. Soft as a feather, she drifted down to the floor of the hole, drawing the attention of everyone in it who remained conscious.

Jentria looked to her right, towards the far end of the hole from the still-standing half pillar. Just past the edge of the hole, there stood a solid wall. The half-dragon walked to the end of the pillar farthest from that wall and squatted down.

Taking a deep breath, Jentria grabbed the pillar's broken edge and lifted. At first, nothing happened, and then slowly it began to rise. She lifted it above her head, and then took a step forward, shifting a hand down the side of the pillar.

Slowly, straining with effort, the half-dragon moved towards the end of the room, gradually raising the pillar. Jentria reached the midpoint, and it began to tip. Frowning, she backed up a few feet, and then beat her wings as hard as she could.

The fleshy part of the half-dragon’s face turned beet red as she lifted the pillar, tipping it slowly upright. She passed its point of equilibrium and it rocked away from her, falling against the wall. Panting with effort, Jentria dropped to the ground.

Although the angle was steep, the pillar looked scalable. The gap of five feet or so between the top of the half-pillar and the edge of the hole looked much easier to bridge than the thirty foot drop to the floor.

Much to Jentria's embarrassment, a cheer rose up around the edge of the hole. To her horror, she discovered that many of the workers above gathered around it to watch her raise the broken pillar. Blushing inside her cloak, she turned away from the wall to see a human man kneeling by a dwarf who lay on top of a pile of rubble.

He is badly wounded, the man said, lifting his head, but he still breathes. Can you help me get him safely to the top?

Before the half-dragon could answer, her attention was drawn to a sound from behind her. She looked back and up to find a skinny human man with almost no hair had jumped onto the pillar. He wore a priest's robes, and looked about to fall.

Jentria spread her wings and leapt to the air. The priest tipped, and fell to his left. Jentria caught him and then ducked under the pillar, gliding around it to land by the fallen dwarf. She set the priest down, breathing a sigh of relief.

The priest gave Jentria an odd look. Thanks, he mumbled, and then knelt down by the dwarf. He gently touched the fallen worker's head, quietly saying a healing prayer. The dwarf spasmed, making wet cracking and popping sounds. He went still a moment later, but his chest rose and fell, showing that he still breathed.

Half-dragon! called a deep voice from above.

Jentria spun about, looking up to where a husky male dwarf stood with his hands on his hips at the edge of the edge of the hole near the top of the leaning pillar. For a moment, she wondered how he knew her nature, and then she realized her hood fell back when she flew up to rescue the falling priest.

Y-yes? the half-dragon replied, suddenly nervous.

Would you mind coming up here so that I need not shout?

Jentria turned and ran up the pillar, spreading her wings and jumping when she neared the top. She landed neatly beside the dwarf, turning to face him. What, um, do you need? she asked.

First, as much as I appreciate the pillar, it appears to be a dangerous route. We have a half dozen healers wantin' to go down into the pit there and heal the wounded. Would you mind carryin' them down?

The half-dragon shook her head and said, Not in the least. I will help however I can.

Can you handle a dwarf? a dwarf woman asked, stepping forward from the gathering crowd.

In response, Jentria bent down and picked the woman up, and then jumped over the edge. She spread her wings and dropped gently to the ground. She set the woman down, and then leapt up before the priestess had a chance to offer her thanks. This time the half-dragon did not bother with the pillar; she beat her wings and flew almost straight up.

When the last of the healers were in the pit, Jentria returned to the edge of the hole, and asked, Is there anything else I might do, master dwarf?

You could tell me why nobody mentioned there's a half-dragon running around here!

Jentria blushed, and lowered her head in shame. One of the nearby elves spoke up, and said, She is the child of Dra'Spur.

Who? the dwarf demanded to know.

Your people would know him as Darkdigger, I believe.

The dwarf's bushy brown eyebrows rose in surprise. You're Darkdigger's kid?

Yes, Jentria said quietly, blushing further. I believe that is his dwarven name.

That explains the colorful face, I guess, the dwarf said as he turned to the elf who spoke. So not only do we have a half-dragon here, but Darkdigger's kid, and nobody bothers to let us know?

We apologize, the elf said. Given the damage her father did, she is not well looked upon by our people.

The dwarf snorted, and then spat on the ground. So we have somebody here that can do the work of ten humans and five dwarves—put together!—and you didn't think she should be mentioned because of the trouble her dad got in?

The elf pursed his lips, searching for an answer and coming up with nothing.

I will go, Jentria said, turning to go.

Wait a moment, the dwarf said. You're going...where?

Away. I have caused enough difficulty here.

The dwarf raised a dubious eyebrow and looked into the pit. What's the count? he called out.

Twenty fell, the dwarf priestess Jentria first carried down called back. Six are dead, and were before we could reach them. The others live and will recover quickly.

The dwarf turned to Jentria, and said, "So, you save the lives of fourteen people, and somehow that is a difficulty?"

I...don't know what to say.

I do. You're an amazing child, and deserve better treatment than what you've received. We need your help. What would take a dozen men and hours of effort you might accomplish on your own in a matter of minutes.

The half-dragon could not believe her ears. You...want me to help?

Absolutely. You don't need to work full days, child, unless you want to. You could accomplish more in a few hours work than most of us would in several days.

I...I'm just a child, sir.

The dwarf stared at her for a moment, a smile playing on his face. Then he gave a bemused snort, and burst out laughing. "You're a dragon, child! he roared when he calmed down enough to speak. Or half-dragon, anyway. Your kind is strong and, more often than not, smarter than the rest of us. Given who your father's father is, who knows what you might be capable of?"

I'm no goddess, master dwarf. But I will do what I can to help Rupture become a reality.

Still chuckling, the dwarf nodded, then said, Can you be full dragon?

I have not tried, the half-dragon confessed. Although I have tried to be full elf before, without success.

Well, you need not try either, today. What about your breath? Is it electric, poison, fire, or something else?

A rare smile played on Jentria's face, and she said, I once coughed up a spark of magic at my mother when I was younger.

Electric, then! Excellent! That would be the most helpful here, I think, as it will be more effective against stone. He looked into the pit, and then back at Jentria. When the fallen are out, see if you can knock that pillar all the way down.

The half-dragon nodded and hopped into the pit again. By this point, a rope ladder hung from the edge, going down to the pillar. A few survivors had already climbed out, but with Jentria's help the workers, healers and the dead were out of the pit much quicker.

After setting the last one down, Jentria turned and leapt into the air, gliding over the pit. She gained just enough altitude to land on the top of the other half of the broken pillar, which shifted, making her windmill her arms for a moment before she got her balance.

The half-dragon jumped, coming down as hard as she could on the pillar. It shifted a little further. She jumped again, but this time the stone column did not budge. Several more jumps produced the same lack of movement.

Jentria turned around, then lay face down on the pillar. Flapping her wings as hard as she could, she pushed against the pillar, but still it would not budge. She pushed for several minutes before she gave up. Finally, she stood up and let herself slide down to the base of the stone support.

Turning around and stepping back a few feet, the half-dragon took in a deep breath. The group gathered around the hole still took an involuntary step back as some ancient fear touched their minds, knowing what Jentria meant to do.

The half-dragon held her breath for a moment, and felt something inside her stir. As it reminded her of the incident with her mother that she'd mentioned, she hoped her draconic instincts knew what to do next.

Jentria opened her mouth and breathed out. Magical power arced out, striking the pillar near its base. An ill feeling came over her, and the half-dragon fell to her knees. She belched, coughing out a small gout of flame surrounded by a multi-hued cloud.

I'm done, she said, and then fell flat on her face. A moment later, the pillar's base cracked, and the whole of it fell into the pit, startling everyone.

****

Chapter 2: Paths

Never has there been

Perfect parent and child

One is likely tame

The other gone wild

No understanding ever

Through generations crossed

Although elders have been there

That time forever is lost.

Jo Jo Wilish, Ballad of the Generations, 898-9 ER

~~~~

Missalore's mother, Ayonta, glared at her daughter. The elf girl felt her own anger rising at her mother's reaction to what she just told her.

"Do you mean to tell me you've been playing with that abomination for over a month now?" the elder elf asked.

Her name is Jentria, and she is my friend, and it is closer to two months. She—

Not again!

Missalore gave her mother a puzzled look. Not again, what?

"You will not be around that girl. I will not have it!"

The elf girl's eyes went wide with surprise and anger. "You will not tell me who my friends will be, Mother! I—"

Do you not see what an evil thing she is? Even her own mother abandoned her!

"You don't even know her!" Missalore screamed.

I know what her father did to our family! Nineteen kin died by his actions!

"His actions, not hers! She saved fourteen lives not even ten days ago!"

That doesn't matter, Ayonta said. "It is only by the narrowest margin that she has not been Shunned by the Elder Council."

A council that hasn't met in several months. I think that if they met now they might have a different opinion of her.

The elder elf shook her head. "It matters not. This household Shuns Jentria, and always will."

Missalore pursed her lips, biting back several angry responses. As you wish, Mother, she finally said, turning to the door of the makeshift treetop hut they called home.

"Missalore! Do not even think of leaving this home."

The younger elf stopped in the doorway, turning her head to look back at her mother. It's already done, Mother.

You're too young, Missa. Her mother’s expression softened a little, but still had a hard edge to it.

"Only by about twenty-three years. But that hasn't stopped anyone before, and it's not stopping me now."

The younger elf did not wait any longer. She left the hut, walking nimbly along the branch on which her mother's home perched. Missalore took hold of a vine solidly attached to a higher branch and slid to the ground. She strode away from the tree until she reached the edge of the deepening ravine that would become the city of Rupture.

A lot of progress had been made since Jentria joined the work crew. She carried large chunks of masonry out of the ravine, piling them along the edge of the eastern forest where the humans lived. Work crews there broke them down into smaller pieces that went to a different group. The latter group began to build a wall around the ravine.

Although Missalore's sharp elven eyes could not pick out her half-dragon friend, she could see a large chunk of stone moving up the wall on the opposite site of the gorge, and knew only Jentria could be moving it.

Your friend does not get the credit from our people that she deserves.

Having thought she was alone, Missalore gasped at the sound of a voice behind her. She turned around, eyes wide and full of reproach. Her anger was gone in a heartbeat when she saw who spoke, and she bowed her head in reverence.

Elder Tolask, I...am honored that you speak to me.

The Elder was one of the few elves who looked old, with flowing white hair framing a warmly wrinkled face before it dropped to his knees. He leaned on a wooden cane, smiling at the youthful elf girl.

I am flattered you think it an honor. I am but another servant to the People.

Missalore swallowed, and said, You are...

An Elder? Yes, that I am. But the same blood that flows through your veins flows through mine. We are both of the People.

Your wisdom is beyond mine.

The old elf chuckled dryly. Please, Missalore, you do not need to go to such lengths. I have come to talk to you about important things, and I would prefer we be on less formal terms.

Missalore was incredulous. You wish...to speak with me...about important things?

Yes. Let's start with your friend, the half-dragon. She is accomplishing great things, is she not?

The young elf sighed, turning to look across the ravine. The chunk of stone cleared the top of the far side. It seemed to float above the ground there for a moment, and then settle slowly as Jentria carefully set it down.

I think so, but my mother would disagree. I...would think the Elder Council would do the same. Missalore turned her attention back to the Elder, and then dropped her gaze.

Look me in the eyes, child. I may help to lead the People, but such reverence should be saved for gods.

The young elf raised her eyes to look into the Elder's, and nervously replied, Y-yes, Elder.

As for what the Elder Council thinks, I will tell you that we have long felt Jentria has been wronged by her kin.

Her kin, Elder?

Tolask nodded. Half her heritage is from the People, Missalore, no matter what anyone wants to believe. That blood is as strong as the dragon in her, no matter what the source.

The elf girl was dubious. Our blood is equal to a dragon's? To a god's?

Our form is frailer, but we have our strengths. And, as Jentria has said herself, she is no deity. By my understanding she neither worships her grandfather nor rejects him.

Missalore's brows furrowed a little. If the Council feels this way, then why have they not said anything?

How many of your kin were killed by her father?

Nineteen, Elder.

How many of the People lost their lives when he fought Sylvanus and her companions in the skies above our homes?

The young elf dropped her gaze a little. Three hundred and seventy-four, Elder.

You know how your mother feels. Can you think of a way to convince the People that her father's actions are not hers? Do you think anything the Council might say would help?

I...I don't know.

The Elder's smile faded a little. "Do you know of a family that did not lose kin?"

No, Elder, I do not.

"Although the Council has not—and will not—Shun Jentria, many families privately have. I can only hope that someday we do not regret this, for I see great things in her future. And yours."

Missalore brought her gaze up again, her eyes a little wide over the Elder's last words. "My future?"

Which, incidentally, is why I wished to speak to you.

What...do you mean?

The Elder stepped over to the edge of the ravine and gazed out over it. A large slab of stone began to move up the far slope. Have you wondered why we have not heard from the rest of the world?

Once or twice, Elder, I have wondered, but mostly I thought perhaps the other lands have suffered as we have. That, and it has only been a couple of months or so.

You are likely correct, Tolask said with a nod. The recent catastrophes can hardly be expected to be limited to the Three Lands. And even there, there are cities in the Three Lands besides this one. Where are their people? One must wonder if we are all that is left.

Is...is that possible?

I do not know, but we must find out.

Missalore's eyes went wide as her mind made an intuitive leap. "You...want me to find out?"

You and others, child. We need to know what the fate of the world is. As well, we need to see if our stronger allies—Sylvanus, for example—have survived this calamity.

Sylvanus has not been seen since she fought Dra'Spur, Elder.

Indeed. Few have sought her since that time. But the need is great, would you not agree?

The elf girl nodded slowly, her eyes still wide. Yes, Elder. Who all is going on the expedition you speak of?

There will be six from each race. Two adults, four older children. I believe another of your companions, Farr, will be going.

Jentria?

The Elder shook his head. No, she is too valuable here.

Dale?

Tolask smiled. Another Elder has a different use for him. He will stay.

Missalore's jaw dropped. I can't believe what I'm hearing, she thought. "Another...Elder, Elder?"

Yes, another Elder.

There was silence for a long moment, and then Tolask said with a smile, Go. Be with your friends. Jentria is likely to be given leave after her current load is delivered, and I imagine she will want to see if she can elude you this day.

*

Jentria sat at the top of a slab of rock, and Dale sat next to her. Now that her presence and identity were known, she did not hide as she once did. Her hood was rarely up, and most times she wore her cloak as a cape, with her bare arms exposed. These had green, yellow, and red scales running along the outside in stripes, clearly showing her mixed heritage as much as anything else. The only part of her that remained hidden most of the time was her sinewy, barbed tail, and the silver tip of that often rested in her lap when she sat down.

Farr stood at the base of the angled rock. Today he had something new; an axe hung from his left hip, complimenting the worn hammer that hung from his right.

When Missalore approached her friends, the look on the dwarf's face and the new axe told her he knew of the upcoming expedition. The elf girl walked up and leaned back against the stone.

What did they tell you, Farr? she asked.

Not much. Just that we have a long journey to make, people to find, and so on. You?

About the same, or less. Did they tell you when we leave?

The dwarf shook his head. No. We are, as children often are, kept in the dark about such things.

I wish we could go, Dale said.

Me, too, Missalore said. I'm afraid both of you are just going to get abused.

They've already started in on Jentria, the boy said with a frown.

No, they haven't, the half-dragon protested.

With all the work they've put you to, you don't think they're abusing you?

Jentria shook her head. "Not in the least! For the first time in my life, I can walk around my home and be me, and people appreciate it. I don't have to hide anymore."

I still think they overuse you, the human boy said. Changing his tone, he mocked some of the things he'd heard requested of his friend. 'Jentria, can you get this wall out of the way?' 'Jentria, fly high and tell us where the game is.' 'Jentria, my mooncat is stuck in a tree, can you fly up and get her down?'

What's wrong with mooncats?

Nothing, I— Dale cut off his statement when he realized that, although the last statement came from the half-dragon's direction, it was not her voice that spoke. He looked at her and then down to find a strange creature perched on the stone between them.

The animal was mostly feline. Its ears were too large for a regular cat, however, and rounded in the middle. The animal had short, fine fur which, along with its skin, was light blue, except for a yellow tuft at the tip of its tail. Its big green eyes stared up at Dale, and its lips formed a strange smile.

Jentria, a puzzled expression on her face, looked towards Dale, then followed his wide-eyed gaze downwards and saw the odd creature that sat between them. She let out a startled yelp and scooted away from it. Missalore and Farr spun around to see what upset their companions. Both took a step back when they spotted the animal.

I didn't know mooncats could talk, the elf girl said.

The mooncat turned his gaze towards Missalore. Most of us cannot. Most of us prefer a telepathic or empathic form of communication. Me, well, my mistress says I talk too much.

I...apologize, Dale said. I didn't mean to offend you, or anything.

You didn't, the cat said, turning his attention back to Dale. You made a valid point, in fact. However, the novelty of Jentria's existence will fade, and eventually efforts will be made to ensure she is put to the best use for her abilities.

The boy thought about this for a moment, and then raised a curious eyebrow. Not to be rude, but is there a reason why you're here?

Yes, my boy, and the reason is you.

Me? Dale asked, eyes wide with surprise.

My mistress, Elder Geannax, wishes for you to visit her at your earliest convenience.

Missalore's jaw dropped. "Geannax?" she asked with surprise.

The cat turned towards the elf girl again. I thought you knew already.

"I knew one of the elders had an interest in Dale, but I didn't know which one. Elder Geannax would have been my last guess, I think."

What's special about Geannax? Dale asked.

Missalore looked at the boy, eyes still wide. She's...the Elder Wizard of my people. She's most of the reason we survived the catastrophe.

The human boy's eyes went a little wider. Elder Wizard? What does she want me for?

I do not pretend to know her business, the strange cat said. So I suggest you get to her home as soon as you can.

Where is her home?

At the top of the tallest tree in our community. It's a nice view from up there.

Dale nodded, swallowing. I'll be going, then. Shouldn't keep an important person like that waiting!

I agree. She's always cross with me when I am late, the cat said.

The boy slid down the stone and walked off, headed for the west side of the ravine. His friends watched him go, concern on each of their faces. Missalore turned to ask the mooncat a question, only to find him gone.

He disappeared, the elf girl said, looking around.

Not yet, Jentria said. I can still see him.

Missalore followed the dragon girl's line of sight to where Dale climbed a pile of rocks. "Not him, the mooncat!"

Jentria looked to her side, to where the strange creature had been. Oh. He must have snuck away while we were distracted.

Thank you, Mistress of the Obvious.

The half dragon gave Missalore a sharp look. You're in a sour mood today.

The elf shrugged. I had a fight with my mother and walked out.

I've been on my own for decades, since my mother left. You'll get used to it.

Missalore blushed a little, ashamed at her friends plight. I'm sorry, I...

Don't worry about it; it doesn't bother me. Come on, though, we were waiting on you, Jentria said, sliding off the rock.

Waiting on me? For what?

Jen found a hole for us to explore on the east side. Something is hidden there, she thinks, Farr said.

The half dragon led her two friends eastward, glancing over her shoulder frequently. Missalore's sharp eyes caught every glimpse. At first, the surreptitious looks amused her, but when they did not stop she rolled her eyes and stepped in front of Jentria, coming to a sudden stop.

What's the matter? Jentria asked, stopping just short of running into the elf.

You! Go help him, or whatever, so we can get on with this.

The half dragon looked confused. What do you mean?

Farr snorted. You've looked in the direction Dale went about a hundred times a minute since we headed this way.

"I'm just...worried. I mean, it is Elder Geannax he's going to see."

"We’re a bit concerned, too, but you are the only one distracted by it," Missalore said.

Jentria looked at the elf and then the dwarf. Okay, I'll go check on him and be right back.

Before her companions could say anything more, the half dragon leapt into the air and flew away.

****

Chapter 3: Tilikom

Minister Degoan: Why do wizards live in such tall places, anyway? I had a terrible time getting here.

Wizard Benicent: Because we like the view.

Minister Degoan: You can't be serious.

Wizard Benicent: Also, there is some strategic advantage.

Minister Degoan: What would that be?

Wizard Benicent: I can drop small stones from the upper windows on people I don't want to have visit me, and have them be none-the-wiser as to who is assaulting them. Try doing that in an ordinary house.

C'Tarry Hap'Fae, Benicent's Journey, Act I, Scene 5, written 1052-9 ER

~~~~

Dale walked through the elven community on the west side of Rupture. A few of the elves gave him curious looks, but most ignored him. His own gaze was upwards, seeking to find which home sat near the top of the tallest tree. This was not an easy task, as many of the elves' home were quite high up, and from the ground relative distance was not always easy to judge.

Finally, he came to a tree that, if it wasn't the highest, had the biggest trunk and seemed likely to be the most capable. The home that sat near its pinnacle seemed to be above all the others, but he could not be certain. Deciding there was only one way to be sure, he started to climb the tree.

The base of the tree was ten feet wide, so the boy could not put his arms around it. The bark was smooth, making hand and footholds difficult to find. As such, progress was slow at first, but Dale kept at it, finding what purchase he could.

The lowest branch was twenty feet off the ground, and when he reached it the boy sat on it, catching his breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then something odd tickled his senses. Dale opened his eyes to find the mooncat sitting on the branch with him.

Hello, there, the boy said.

Hello to you.

I hope you're here to tell me that I've picked the right tree, at least.

The mooncat remained silent, his face betraying nothing. He waited until Dale got to his feet, preparing to continue his journey upwards, and then said, Yes, you're in the right tree.

Then I will perhaps see you again at the top.

Somehow, the strange cat managed to be waiting for the boy at every branch. Each time Dale pulled himself onto a new limb, the cat sat there, watching him go. The human did not rest again until he reached a height of sixty feet, where the limbs were closer together.

Is it getting easier for you? the cat asked.

Somewhat. I can almost reach the next branch from here.

The feline looked up, and then at the boy. I am sure you could reach the next branch.

Not without jumping, Dale said, shaking his head.

Life is filled with risk.

Is he testing my courage or my wisdom? The boy looked at the branch above him, and then towards the ground. Both, he concluded. He got to his feet, squatted down, then leapt. By the narrowest margin, Dale managed to grab the branch above him, but his grip was not firm. The boy tried to pull himself up, to get a better grip, but his hands slipped and he fell.

Dale's feet landed on the branch below him, and he windmilled his arms, trying to keep his balance. He fell backwards, but to his surprise did not fall more than a foot. Arms wrapped around his chest from behind, catching him and then pulling him upwards.

Stupid cat, the boy heard a familiar voice say behind him.

Jentria! Dale cried.

What? she asked as she lifted him towards the top of the tree.

What are you doing?

Saving you from a fatal fall and getting you to where you need to be.

But I'm supposed to climb up there!

The half dragon passed the final branch and set the boy on it, landing beside him. She turned him around to face her and said, And who exactly told you that?

Dale opened his mouth, and then promptly