The Elf of Ember

By Daniël Bernardo

The war has just begun and Niah is caught in it unprepared, hiding among the folk after a miserable childhood during which she was shunned and ridiculed for her outward appearance. A great threat is upon the Elves, and their survival depends upon an alliance with Blood Drinkers, a band of Koral Trolls, a Witch and a shape shifter. The Old King has plans to awaken the Great Owl, but meanwhile an awakening is to take place; an awakening that wil ultimately change the tide. It just needs to happen in time, and affect change in a manner that would save the land of the evil scurge that is upon it. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniël Bernardo
• Release date: Apr 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224915163

Book preview

Chapter 1: The awakening

946

The Elf King himself led his people as he made his way down the ancient path through the Blue Forest. His stately stride belied his fears and it might even have seemed as if they were marching to the Great Festival. He could already hear the sea in the distance when the wind rose just right, and it was quite possibly washing away the blood of the fallen from the rocks and sand, claiming back the sunken ships and bodies as in the West. His regal confidence masked his lingering disbelief like the calm after the seemingly never ending rain and crackling thunder. The company was drenched and freezing cold, their clothes dripping as they lumbered onward. Their race had no defense against the barbaric enemy that lived among them for so many ages. They never foresaw the danger lurking under their very noses while many of their kin were already dying. Only weeks after the first attacks the Elves were at a great precipice.

The young ones were kept at the back of the long, snaking line. They were spared from seeing the dead and the dying. Such things were reserved for when one was old enough to understand the difference between these particular two stages of life. Such horrid times were not for children and they were protected at all cost, brave as they were.

Shall we rest the woman and children, Sire? Madras asked, bowing to the Cobalt King.

The king stopped and rested his palm on the scepter in his right hand. It was no longer gleaming. His dark blue eyes searched the sky not seeing and he smiled sadly.

Why not?

Madras raised his hand and the folk stopped in their tracks, quickly looking for a reason why they had to halt their long, arduous journey again. The trees were silent and motionless. The gusting wind had finally died down and they could not smell anything foul. It was only the constant rain that would not entirely seize and when they were certain that there was no imminent danger they all moved to one side of the path. A few yards into the forest, laying out silk sheets and baskets they ate what was left of their meager rations. They were as silent as the wood, eating slowly to make the food last longer in their mouths and bellies. Children clung to their mothers, eyes wild and teary. They had heard of the battles and the monsters, of the fathers and the brothers that were slaughtered and eaten- some still alive as it happened. Some of the children had witnessed with their own eyes the evil deeds of those noisy, skulking things at the edges of towns and cities, always grabbing and fighting and clawing. Hope had also faded among the Elves as fewer soldiers came back from the battlefields each time. Fear began to fester throughout the land like an awful sickness, until it was decided to seek another future.

That silence is not like you, the Elf King murmured and Madras only realized that he was spoken to when the king spoke again.

I suppose none of us would ever be the same again.

Madras could only nod. He felt helpless and sad for the once mighty Elf King that reigned for more than three thousand years, from the West coast and the Blue Forest to the Redwoods in the north, nestled against the Great Pillars, the greatest mountains in the Land of the Owl.

No, Sire. I dare say we will not.

I have, in all my years on this earth, never seen anything like it.

Raw fear spread across the face of the king like a horrible infection and Madras had to look away.

I never saw them for what they really are...monsters. And whatever their reason for attacking us; they must have the darkest souls in all of creation. I have never seen any other race so driven by murder and hate and greed. It is as if stealing the lives of my people is not enough; they also have to plunder everything wherever they go. I have never witnessed such wanton destruction before. No living creature has ever deserved complete annihilation, but perhaps they do ...

There is nothing more I can add, Your Majesty. It is precisely as you say.

Madras realized that the fear on the face of his king was not for his own life but for the lives of what was left of his people; his folk.

"Is there nothing more we can do, Your Majesty? Nothing more?"

It was a fool’s question. Still, the Cobalt King’s answer brought a glimmer of hope to the young warrior.

There is something we can do still, yes.

Madras waited as long as he possibly could for the answer before he broke the silence one last time.

What do we do, Sire?

The king stared Madras in his eyes as if his own could still see the future.

We could awaken the Owl.

Madras dreaded his King’s words but at the same time knew that this might be their last and only chance. It had grave consequences, but none graver than their current circumstances. In fact, if his King’s decision takes too long there might be no Elves left on the face of their beloved earth. Madras pondered this thought as he wandered off into the wood, treading softly among the ferns and the moss as not to disturb the silence. He could not have foreseen or expected the trap being so deep within his own mind, sprung by evil so savage and daring with the flock so close by in the wood. And before Madras could utter a single sound or pierce the quiet of the breeze through the leaves his throat was bitten shut by a row of sharp, closely planted ivory-like teeth. As his blood began trickling down his neck and breath became his most urgent concern he unsheathed his knife from his hip, leaving his sword where it hung across his belly and rammed the shorter blade into a beady dark brown eye as he stumbled backward. Pain had no sway over an Elf as death had and it made one a fierce enemy until the very bitter end, as the Gonter found out too late. As the tempered steel entered the brain matter beyond the socket of the eye, the foul being shuddered and spasmed, releasing the grip from his prey’s neck, freeing him. The holes punctured in the skin oozed as the spiky teeth let go and while crimson blood stained the fine silk shirt a sword was drawn and cut through the soft flesh and skin of its enemy, sending it sprawling to the forest floor to bleed out like a slaughtered animal. Evil too can die, never to return. One-on-one they had no upper hand except in rare cases such as surprise.

The flock was on their feet as the sword cut its first inch through the monster, calling out to them in high song that only the Elves could hear. The first hands were beside Madras to help carry him to the road before the Gonter’s heart stopped beating.

What did you do, boy?

The King’s voice choked away as unfamiliar emotion suddenly took hold and Madras smiled a knowing smile. His father never showed emotion in public as was now suddenly the case and it was- to Madras- an immense complement.

Did you not see?

Madras slowly shook his head and the smile faded from his lips as he recognized the surprise in his father’s eyes.

You could not see this happen...

Again Madras shook his head.

And I cannot speak to your mind either, the King murmured concerned. This has been how long?

But the King did not expect an answer from his son, with whom he shared the gravest of concerns. As Madras’ gift was that of foresight, it was obvious that they were in deed in grave need of aid. Once Madras lost his gift, another weapon was lost. Once a great number of Elves were lost to the depths of darkness another gift would fade from the Royal House. This meant that the leadership had to be renewed for the sake of the people. This has always been so and has been the shear that pruned the Life Tree of the Elves for many, many generations through time. And it was painfully obvious that another branch had to be cut to make room for the new leadership; leadership that might be able to protect the flock and the people as a whole from the invaders from within.

Milas!

A young boy ran to where the Guardians stood over the fallen, protecting their Royal Captain and their King.

Yes, Father?

The older Elf’s words were firm and his stern gaze mesmerized the young boy facing him.

You shall continue on the path to the port. Rally our people there and defend yourselves at all cost. I shall take another path and secure the aid of the Owl. We shall survive this day and every day after it. This is my word.

His orders were clear and acknowledged by all in the circle. Their final paths were decided upon and the Cobalt King had but one more task before departing on his own journey. A final, brilliant light shone from the Cobalt King’s staff as he held it above the heads of the circle, basking all in power and purpose as his forbearers had done in times such as those they now endured. And all that were caressed by the pure white rays at the edge of the Blue Forest were blessed with renewed strength. But one was awakened; an awakening that was foretold but near forgotten. Madras died before an orange, yolky sun reached the earth for the first time in twenty-four days. It was a good death.

The soft balmy rays of the winter sun touched the skin on her hands and she smiled, pushing back her cape to soak in more of it. Her eyes were now completely open and she drank in the world that has suddenly grown clearer. Color leapt from the earth as sound and sound leapt from the wind like song. Distance no longer defined detail and her mind defied the earth’s hold over her body as she leapt from the rock she stood upon, landing softly on the ground beneath her again. All her fifteen years rushed back to her and she gasped as her memory became a crystal slab of indestructible maps to every destination, action, lesson and reason she had ever experienced. She was now completely aware as if from a deep sleep. The sun and the stars spoke to her in a language she could now understand. She understood the trees and their sadness.

She could feel the agony of the land. And she could now see death for the hollow, black monster it was, insatiable and cruel...cold as steel in winter.

Niah?

She answered holding her mother’s eyes, careful not to cause more worry than the woman already bore.

Yes, Mother?

The King is leaving.

Yes, I know, she smiled and joined her mother in the long line again.

The raven-haired girl went unnoticed when she wore her cape like all the other female folk. Among the crowd she felt like part of a great family and wished that it could always be so. A longing inside her was silenced in those moments of being close to them. But the truth always pierced her heart and she let her cape down over her hair and face, quietly following Narine.

930

The Village of Ember nestled close to the Cobalt Caves, on the southern banks of the White Oyster River, which flowed into the ocean twenty miles downstream at Diver’s Point. It was home to nearly three hundred Elves and known for the high quality of woodwork that was traded from the shops and homes of the Embers and one would travel far to acquire a more beautifully carved front door of window frame in the Kingdom. It was said that the Embers spoke to the wood, whispered to the grain and the knots and that they used spells that made their tools craft anything they could imagine. They were revered as great craftsman and carpenters. Ember also stood out for another reason: the trees in town bore yellow and orange leaves. Some said it was something in the water. Others speculated that the trees themselves were enchanted but whatever the reason may be; Ember suited the village as a name.

It was in the month of Apria that it was first discovered that a red moon was approaching, an omen that was not welcome in the Land of the Owl. Since the beginning of time it was passed from one generation to the other that a red moon bore only dread and destruction. The worst times recorded in the history of the Land of the Owl were during the rise and set of red moons. It was quite natural then for the Elves to start keeping to themselves more as the news spread from the Observatory in the north. Folk remained quietly indoors and seldom went anywhere alone. When the heavens’ great black lid starts to open for the first time all Embers would remain inside, never to venture outside again until the great red eye closed again for good. But on a stormy night one Elf was forced to leave her home and bear against the wind to the river, grasping at her veil amongst the leaves and the rain and lightning. Great oaks crackled and complained in the high wind, which gusted with such furious ferocity that Niri was afraid for her home. So she rushed to the banks of the White Oyster as fast as she could, her eyes trained on the path in front of her, searching. She had only just realized that she had lost a very valuable remembrance and could not bear to wait for the storm to pass in fear of losing it forever. Leaving her table with food going cold she bolted for the door and disappeared into the hostile breath of night in the hope of returning with her house still intact. But what she found that night on the banks of the river was more than what she could ever have imagined.

She was filled with such gladness at the sight of the silver band that lay glittering wet on the cobbled path that tears sprang to her eyes. She was turning towards home, still clutching the band in happy disbelief when lightning revealed the body in the grass next to the path. So great was her shock that she let the band fall again and the woman that lay bleeding in the grass opened her eyes to the ring of the metal on the stone.

What are you doing here? Niri yelled frantically, straining her voice to be heard above the howling of the wind through the screeching and crackling trees.

The woman did not answer.

Was this a Gorter’s doing? You know their hearts are foul; are you mad to wander around outside?

With the band safely on her arm again Niri looked up as she stumbled to the stranger whose eyes were closed again. Alone and in the middle of a monstrous storm she had no choice but to drag the woman up the path by her clothes, which were tattered, bloody rags by the time she finally reached her home, utterly exhausted. With no husband and no son any more she grew hard- old for her time even, folk would say. But Niri grew stronger to protect her and hers. She had to fend for herself and that included any and all hard work, work that may have been reserved for the men of the village.

Though Embers cared for their kin Niri was proud, the widow of a great craftsman and town leader that sacrificed himself too late for his son whom he tried to save from a mountain cat that ventured into town many months ago now. Carefree and playing in the clearing by the Beacon Stone they were ambushed by the feline without weapons or armor and not even her strong husband or rocks to the eyes and ears deterred the great cat from viciously killing both her son and husband, making off with their bodies and the great loves of her life. So Niri built armor around her to protect her heart from hurting ever again and grew tough so she would not have to rely on others for anything. Folk gave up gifting as she would not accept any aid barely a year after their passing. Not even concerned whispers from folk that she had become hard for her years could change her heart- or what happened to it.

What is your name, woman? Niri asked as if the stranger was awake. What happened to you?

She laid the woman on a bed which once held a child and started to wash the blood off the unfamiliar face. Deep cuts revealed themselves in the woman’s scalp, then shoulders and arms, back, legs and feet. It seemed as if the woman came barefoot over the Cobalt Mountains and Niri’s thoughts again trailed back to the murderous cat. Blood caked in the woman’s fair Elfish hair and it had to be washed out before removing what was now tattered remains on the cut and bruised body of the Elf on her son’s dirtied bed.

What happened to you, poor soul? Niri asked again, out loud and deep in thought as she cut the woman’s ruined clothes from her body, gently washing away the dirt and blood as she went. There were no marks other than what rock and thorn left on her body and the clothing was too plain to place the stranger at all. Also, even by the flittering flash of lightning, Niri realized that the woman was with child. It was plainly visible now, and Niri feared for both the mother and her unborn. If she had to guess, the child would be born shortly after the end of the red moon. Still, she made sure that the Elf was properly bathed, dressed and covered in a warm blanket. The dirty sheets were promptly slid from under her and fresh ones tucked back. She did not mind the mess on the floor, or the extra washing or the extra mouth.

She had someone in her care again and she was not too clear at all on how she truly felt about it. For the moment at least it felt almost normal again; her house. There was even new life on the way and an old, familiar excitement stirred. But Niri did not sleep later that night. She listened to the howling wind and the rattling of her home. Her thoughts were with her son and her husband, then with the strange Elf in her son’s room whom she often visited throughout the night. Her guest did not grow a fever and she slept as if visiting an old friend; restful and content. The one thing that did bother Niri was that the Elf’s wounds healed almost in front of Niri’s eyes. It was like witnessing a miracle. Then Niri realized that there was strangeness to the Elf, which she could not put her finger on. It was something she could feel in her bones but could not see, and it scared her.

The woman slept for two days. She could not even be brought to drink water. It was as if she was frozen in time while curious villagers came and went from Niri’s house and back, trying to see whether the woman can be claimed. But no one knew who the woman was. It was as if she fell from the heavens.

This is most unusual. Very disturbing.

Malek muttered from the hearth and glared at Niri as if his sister was attempting to beguile them all into accepting a snake into their midst.

Most unusual? You heard me, did you not? Should I have left her there to die? Niri asked aloud for all to hear this time.

No, Malek answered reluctantly, But you could have asked one of us to come and help...

Help with what? she cut her brother off. It was the dead of night in the middle of a storm; there was nothing you could do that I could not do for her already and you would have been in the way!

Niri was becoming frustrated with her brother and the Ember Guardians. She wanted them to leave. She was tiring and her guest needed the silence- and so did she.

You were of no use when Dunar and Lamar were killed. You made no fuss to find me their bodies so I could give them proper burials. You could not even find the mountain cat that killed them. What good are you now?

She regretted the words as soon as they were spoken but it had the desired effect. It was not a moment before her house was completely empty but for herself and the Elf in her son’s bed. She knew they tried to console her. They also tried to help her as much as they could but she hardened when they would not kill the cat or try to find its lair. They were afraid it would return for another Ember and so they stayed to protect the village. They made the right decision. It just did not suit her at the time. Niri did not hear the Elf behind her and froze when she turned and nearly struck the frail body in the doorway.

May I have something to drink, please? she asked. Her voice was dry and husky and she seemed to rely on the doorway to remain on her feet.

Of course, Niri gasped. But let us first sit you down at the table.

Thank you, the Elf replied, exhausted from walking to the kitchen.

Niri poured fresh tea from a pot on the stove and raked the plate of petal cakes to within reach of the tired woman where she seated herself at the table. The crystal glass

Reviews for The Elf of Ember

[lynetteherobae · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Amazing! Full of adventure, action and suspense, a must read!