Cities of the Gods: The Fallen Elves, #3

By Leah R Cutter

Tanelith lives her greatest dream: to rise up to one of the cities of the gods, to walk the streets of her ancestors, to see her people rightfully proud and living in beauty.

 

But the beautiful murals hide terrible secrets. As do the elders who rule the place.

 

Will they help those Tanelith has left, on the ground below?

 

And what will be their price?

 

Cities of the Gods—the third book in this epic dark fantasy series—follows Tanelith through gilded halls and magical landscapes, still seeking solace for her people.

 

Be sure to read the rest of the books in this finished series!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Knotted Road Press
• Release date: May 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781644703618

Book preview

Chapter

One

Tanelith looked around her. She felt her eyes grow wide.

She was here.

Vallethlar. One of the fabled floating cities. A city of the gods.

Ever since she’d first seen it, she’d known that she had to reach it.

It was all as wondrous as the pictures she’d seen in the various books of Old Olin. The beautiful mosaic at her feet, with its precisely placed stones of green, blue, and gold, glittered in the magical light thrown by two long sconces that hung on either side of the door. Fluted white columns rose up to the high ceiling, elegant and graceful. The ceiling itself was painted black, with golden stars shining down on her. A soft scent of lavender filled the air, as if bunches of it grew just past the door. The air itself was soft and humid, no longer as dry as the desert.

Tanelith took another step forward, looking around. Mironor, the guardian, grew stiffer as she approached, his serious expression growing stricter. He had thin lips that held the faintest hint of pink, as did his cheeks. His pale white skin looked as pure as fallen snow. Green eyes stared at her, narrowed and uncertain. He had a broad brow that made him look intelligent, with long black hair held back in braids on either side of his head, back behind slightly pointed ears.

And who are you? Mironor asked before Tanelith could take another step.

Oh. Oh! Tanelith said. She sheepishly drew back the helmet of the milky-white armor she wore so that Mironor could see her face. She also dismissed the sword she held. It went reluctantly, so instead of forcing it back into the form of a cloudy-gray ceremonial dagger, she let it become a short sword, which attached itself to her hip easily.

I am Tanelith, she said. I have traveled far to come to this place.

Which of the cities did you come from? Mironor said.

Cities? Tanelith said, confused. She’d come from Ithlond, the world below. Why did he assume that she’d come from a city?

You wear the armor, Mironor said. Though he did seem puzzled by her appearance, judging by the tilt of his head. Aren’t you a guardian?

It had never occurred to Tanelith that the people in the floating city would consider her a guardian of the Goddess, a priestess of some sort, because she wore the armor. However, most of the pictures of people wearing the armor in Olin’s books had served the Goddess.

I’ve never been trained as a guardian, Tanelith said honestly. But I do consider myself a guardian of the Egarlorsar. I have a quest, to free my people.

Mironor gave her a sardonic smile. I see, he said dryly. Where did you find the armor? And the sword?

I stole them from the Humans, Tanelith said, her chin raising. Surely this Mironor wasn’t about to send her away, or to try to take the armor from her?

But her response received a more genuine smile. Good, he said firmly. He paused, then said, Is that why your hair is short? Because you lived with the Ilburh?

Tanelith sighed. She might as well get all the bad news out at once.

I was a slave, she said. She turned her head from one side to the other, showing off her scars. I freed myself from one of their damned collars using the Dissolving Blade.

Did you really? Mironor said. He didn’t seem impressed by her scars. Where are you from originally?

I grew up on the Blasted Plains, amid the ruins of the fallen city of Lasirinth, Tanelith said.

Mironor nodded. He appeared to be considering what exactly to do with her. Finally, he reached a decision. Come with me. I will take you to a place where you can rest for the night. In the morning, you can meet with our Council of Elders. He paused, then added, I might not tell everyone where you’re from. At least, not yet.

Why? Tanelith said. She wasn’t ashamed of where she came from. She loved her little village of Alath and looked forward to returning there.

Someday. When the threat of the slavers had passed, and she wouldn’t have to fear her sisters being taken against their will.

Mironor shrugged. You are the only new guardian that we’ve seen in my lifetime. Possibly in many generations. The people will assume, as I did, that you came from one of the other cities.

Are there other cities that still float above the world? Tanelith asked, her heart suddenly pounding again.

Mironor stared at her for a few long heartbeats. Was he about to lie to her?

No, he said after a few moments. Some may wish otherwise, he added, gesturing behind him. But I pride myself on being a realist. We are alone, and we will remain alone.

I see, Tanelith said. She tried not to give in to the disappointment she felt. She’d been certain if one of the cities had survived, maybe others had as well.

Come, Mironor said. He gave her a slight bow. Welcome to Vallethlar. Then he turned and went through the door, into the rest of the city.

Tanelith took a deep breath, then followed, knowing that nothing she’d ever experienced before had prepared her for what she was about to see.

Chapter

Two

Though it was night outside, the corridor that Tanelith stepped into was lit as if it were day. Instead of long white sconces that resembled sea shells on the walls, bright globes hung from the ceiling. The walls held long windows with panes of glass. However, instead of showing the outside world, each window was painted with a different mural, such as an endless sea, or a view of what must be Gishem Woods from above, along with beautiful mountains and the desert.

Tanelith would have loved to linger, to examine each sight, but Mironor hurried on.

They stepped from the corridor into an open area. Tanelith couldn’t help her gasp. There were people there.

Her people.

They were mostly as tall and as stately as the people she’d met in the Broken Mountains. However, there were a few, here and there, with curly hair or who were shorter.

She felt something loosen in her chest when she saw that. The people in the city of Vallethlar weren’t as prejudiced as the people of the Broken Mountains. They weren’t killing the children who didn’t hold to an outdated sense of beauty.

Thank the Goddess for that.

They were dressed similarly to the people of the Broken Mountains, in long stately robes, each more elegant than the last, with long hair and graceful manners. They peered at her curiously, though no one drew close. She heard the whispers after she passed, people asking one another who she was and where she was from.

This appeared to be a small marketplace, with a few shops still open, such as the gaily decorated place that appeared to sell sweets, along with a store that sold fine footwear, the smell of the leather lingering outside.

Then into another corridor without pausing, this next one filled with tall doors. Where did they lead? Did people live behind those doors? Were there chambers for people to meet in? Perhaps private, specialty shops?

Tanelith didn’t bother asking. There were too many things to see, to ask about. She would have to learn about all of it later. If there was no one to ask, she knew the walls, themselves, would tell her. She could just hear them, whispering to her. All she had to do was to reach out her fingers and brush them against the smooth paint. She’d learned to listen to the walls in the ruins where she’d grown up: all she had to do was touch a structure to learn how it was used.

They continued weaving their way through the city, passing through a much larger market that had no ceiling and was out in the open air, the night sky comforting above her. The moon wasn’t full, not yet. She could imagine how lovely this market might be when cool moonlight bathed it, the structures all lighting up with soft blue magic.

Finally, they reached what appeared to be her destination. It was another shorter corridor, off what appeared to be a larger shared area.

Though we receive few guests, we keep this place for them, Mironor said, opening a door for her, then waiting for her to enter.

Tanelith stepped past the man and looked around the room with pleasure. The walls were painted a beautiful sky blue, like early dawn on a winter’s day. Again, there were false windows, the murals showing a beautiful green garden filled with flowers. The ceiling, like the rest of the city, was very tall and painted with faint glowing stars, golden against the white. Thick green rugs covered the wooden floor. Tanelith grinned when she felt how soft they were under her feet, already imagining what the bed must be like.

The room itself appeared to be an outer chamber, with a small desk in the corner and several large chairs. Books filled the bookcases that were between the three windows. The air was a little stale, as if this room hadn’t been opened recently.

Three doors led away from the main room. Mironor open the first.

It was a small place, filled with cupboards on either side. Mugs hung from their handles on a set of clever hooks to one side and what looked like a cutting board was on the other. It took her a moment to place what looked like a curved box standing beside it.

The item that warmed food, in particular, toasted bread. It must be common here if it was included in a guest room.

A large glass bowl stood in the very center of the far wall, with a fluted steel spout that looked like a miniature hand pump.

Mironor showed her how to pump water into the bowl, as well as how to drain the water away. Tanelith couldn’t help her delight.

Normally, this room is for cooking, but you won’t need to bother with that, Mironor said. I’ll come and get you when it’s time for you to break your fast.

Then he showed her the washroom, as well as the bedroom that primarily contain a bed in the center of it, piled high with pillows and blankets, all done in a stately plum color.

No one will disturb you here, Mironor assured Tanelith.

It appeared that he was about to go.

Wait, Tanelith said. I have so many questions.

So do I, Mironor assured her. But it’s been a long day. Let us both rest, and I will come and fetch you early in the morning. We will break our fast together, and talk long through the day.

He appeared nervous to be there with her, anxious to be gone. Was she so ugly to look at with her short hair? Or was it something else?

All right, she said slowly. But—just one more thing. She paused, trying to sort out which question was most important at that moment. Will you help me? In my quest to free our people?

Mironor grimaced. We will talk in the morning, he assured her, before he strode out the door.

Tanelith heard the distinct click of a lock.

She rushed over to the door. Yes, he’d locked it, from the outside. And it wasn’t merely a physical lock, but a magical one as well.

Why had they locked her in the room? He knew that with the Dissolving Blade, she could free herself at any time.

She debated getting it out, just to prove to herself that she wasn’t locked in. She started to breathe faster at the thought.

She hated being locked in. It reminded her too much of when she’d been a slave, unable to leave the house with Arryn’s permission.

But they couldn’t hold her here. Not against her will.

Abruptly, Tanelith dismissed the armor, standing instead in her well-worn travel clothes: a fitted pale-green shirt with long sleeves, tucked into long light weight brown wool trousers, and sturdy leather boots. She wasn’t as elegant as any of the people she’d seen on her trip to this place.

Good thing she didn’t care, or at least she told herself that.

The handpiece that was firmly attached to her skin still rested on her right hand. A wide dull-metal cuff encased her wrist. A mesh stretched from that across the back of her hand, no longer loose but attached to her skin, held in place by rings that she wore around her thumb, middle finger, and pinky.

She would never lose this piece. Not until she was dead.

Using the hand with the handpiece on the back, she reached out and brushed her fingers across the wood of the door.

Huh.

The door wasn’t locked to keep her in. The magic wasn’t difficult or hiding.

No, as much as anything else, the lock was to keep others from bothering her. It was attuned to Mironor and no one else.

But with just the slightest touch of magic, whoever was inside the room could unlock the door.

While the lock might defeat any of the Meerimec or other races, none of the Egarlorsar could be kept there against their will.

Feeling better, Tanelith finally shrugged off her pack, her breathing returning to normal.

Though she’d switched her schedule around, so that she was used to staying up all night and traveling through the day, she was going to have to change it again. And she did feel tired. It was as if all the mad energy that she’d employed throughout the long trip—almost four months of traveling—suddenly drained away.

Tanelith swayed, barely able to keep her eyes open.

She thoroughly washed her face, hands, and arms in the sink, relishing the pure water she could pump into the basin. Then she climbed up into the bed.

The mattress was as soft as clouds. Yet, Tanelith didn’t sleep deeply. She dreamed instead of constantly falling from a great height, though she never smacked into the ground.

Chapter

Three

Tanelith woke slowly, her body cushioned in a way that it hadn’t been for so long. Her bed at her home wasn’t this soft, she was certain.

She stuck her head in the sink and washed her hair, using the thick, soft towels she found in the washroom to dry it. Then she got dressed in her usual travel gear—long-sleeved shirt, this time in soft blue, with sturdy wool pants and her leather boots. There was a wardrobe that she could use to put her other clothing into, what little she carried with her. She left it all folded in her pack.

Much easier to leave in a hurry if she had to.

Of course, she put on her belt and stuck the ceremonial dagger in its holder on the side. She wouldn’t ever travel anywhere without her blade.

When she walked out to the main room, she discovered that the painted lighting on the mural on the wall had changed. Maybe that was because someone was now staying here. The garden appeared to be just waking up, with bright morning sunlight shining from one corner of it. The next time she looked at it, the sunlight shone down on a larger portion. Probably by evening, there would be moonlight instead.

She spent time perusing the books on the shelf. There was poetry by people she’d never heard of, hymns to the Goddess she didn’t know, and what appeared to be a book of fiction, involving tiny people—Meerimec she guessed—and a huge beast who had wings and blew out fire, of all things. A type of dragon, if she was remembering correctly from the myths she’d heard as a child.

No history books, however.

Just as Tanelith was getting ready to go to the door and make sure yet again that the lock would work for her, someone knocked.

Tanelith opened the door to find Mironor standing there. He was