Chapter 50: Galena
(I drew this using coloured pencils on Bristol board. - Chaiga T. Cheska)
Nix sat bolt upright, yanked from his deep sleep and gripped by flat-out panic. His ears were flat to his head, and his eyes were wide as he whipped his head around, trying to work out where he was and make sense of the dream that had been so clear, of his older half-brother, Simi, in some sort of pit deep in the earth somewhere near the ravines. It had been so real, as if Nix had been there too, seeing Simi and seeing through Simi’s eyes, hearing all of Simi’s thoughts. It terrified him. Was Simi close? Where was he? Nix’s wild panic ebbed as he realised Oren was crouched in front of him, talking, saying something, had been saying something, and Nix was only now noticing. Nix shook himself and blinked, and Oren’s voice filtered through his panic at last.
“…..just a bad dream, Nix. You’re alright.”
Nix’s panic ebbed and faded, and he breathed in the scents of the overhang, damp earth, and the mineral tang of dewy crystals in the woodland as the first light of dawn filtered through the trees.
Nix reached out and gripped his cousin’s arm, panic giving way to urgency and worry. “I saw Simi beyond the Ravines… there were strange elvish creatures that captured him, and… there was a pit, and someone freed him… a reptile creature. It was all so clear! Like I was there, watching and experiencing it.” Nix’s voice dropped to a frightened whisper. “Like I was Simi… seeing through his eyes, Oren!”
Oren saw the fear in Nix’s eyes and remembered their encounter with Simi in the Ravines, when he’d fled the moment Lisera intercepted the sword he’d flung. Oren suppressed his own feelings and focused on his cousin. “Simi is four hundred years from where we are now. You are not in danger from him, do you understand? Perhaps it was just a very clear dream, nothing more.”
Oren made sure Nix made eye contact with him to confirm he understood, then nudged Nix to get ready as he turned to wake his brothers, knowing that simply doing ordinary things like getting ready for the day ahead would hopefully help dispel any nightly fears. Oren felt a spike of fear rise at the mention of Simi, as he had wondered what had become of their other cousin after their encounter with Lisera in the Ravines. It seemed so long ago, as so much had happened.
Oren sighed and reached down to jostle Bran awake, trying to refocus on the task of getting ready. Best not to think of Simi, he thought, trying to quell his rising worry even as he thought about Simi, nudging Tavik and then going to his pack, digging around for something to eat, as it was clear there would be no stop for food before starting out. Oren cast a glance up at the scribe and the elf, both of whom wore distracted expectant looks, neither looking at the other, as Oren pulled out a packet of dried nuts and fruit, eating a handful as he watched his brothers and cousin.
Tavik yawned, stretched, and looked over at Oren, then copied his older brother by digging around in his own pack for a packet of nuts and fruit. Oren watched Tavik and saw the dark circles under his brother’s eyes and his drawn face, and found himself reflecting on the months of travel since they’d left their home in the Sentinel Forest, on how his younger brothers were growing yet seemed gaunt and thinner than he remembered, which sparked another worry that rankled him. He pushed his reflections away and pulled out another packet of dried fruit, knowing the disgruntled look on his youngest brother’s face as he watched Bran frown around, looking tired.
The sun was slowly rising, casting shards of orange and yellow light through the trees and into the crystal clusters, so the morning seemed brighter as reflected light flung across the forest, illuminating fine crystal strands within the very bark of the trees, making the forest a constellation in its own right, dazzling and yet blinding in equal measure. Olis was standing outside their camp, looking into the sky as if assessing their next move. Liv had dismantled the protective barrier between the camp and the forest and was sitting with her back to the camp, regarding the forest, clearly waiting for the boys to be ready to move.
Bran grumbled as he got up, looking around as his brothers and Nix adjusted their cloaks and shouldered their packs. “Are we not even going to stop to eat?”
Oren tossed a packet of dried fruit to Bran, who caught it, sighed, and followed his brothers and cousin as they kicked the fire to ashes and gathered beside Olis to look at the clearing.
The scribe looked at the four boys, then spoke softly to Liv, “I believe this is the time to release your watch from the trees, yes?”
Liv seemed startled by his words, stood quickly, towering over all of them, and then sighed as she remembered who Olis really was. She looked towards the distant treeline and made a sound in the back of her throat that sounded like a strange bird call. Within seconds, four very tall elves stepped out from the trees. Bran stared, wide-eyed. The four male elves were clearly warriors of some kind. Though they resembled Liv, they were perhaps slightly shorter than she; they moved with the grace and poise of dancers, yet they held their hands open, and there was no sign of a weapon, which, for Bran, made them seem more dangerous because it was clear these four warriors were lethal examples of how magic could be used in battle. The four silently dipped their heads as if in respect to Liv, before turning their eyes on Olis, who also dipped his head to them.
Oren and his brothers and cousin exchanged perplexed looks, as even Nix hadn’t known these elves were hiding. Bran leaned close to Oren and whispered up at his brother, “Have they been there all night, watching us?”
It was Olis who looked back to meet Bran’s gaze and reply, “Yes, these are the Watchers of the Crystalsong Forest, here to keep their princess safe from us foreigners!” The scribe’s eyes locked briefly with Liv’s, twinkling mischievously, as if revealing a secret she had been reluctant to share. Liv sighed and looked away, wondering, not for the first time, how to manage this particular scribe and his vast knowledge of all things.
Oren, Tavik and Bran turned to look at Liv. “Princess…?” Tavik mouthed to Oren, then looked down when Liv turned her head to look at him. She was so fierce and intense that Tavik felt diminished just by being near her. He wondered if he and his brothers would ever be as tall as these elves, but supposed they’d have to wait until all their magic, from both their elvish and Lightweaver heritage, matured before they’d realise their true forms. The idea unnerved Tavik, so he cast his gaze towards the four Watchers, who regarded him without a change of expression. They were less imposing than Liv, but they still made Tavik feel wary. He felt his younger brother shift beside him and, without thinking, draped an arm around Bran’s shoulders, suspecting similar thoughts were going through his head too.
Olis cleared his throat and waved the boys forward, a gesture that they must start their journey, as he called over his shoulder, with Liv coming to stride beside him, “Come, we will bring you to see the valleys of your heritage.”
Oren, Tavik and Bran almost stumbled along after the scribe and the elf, their eyes fixed on the four Watchers, who kept their distance yet walked parallel to their small group. Their eyes rarely strayed from the confidently striding Liv at the head of the group.
Nix blinked a few times, watched the others walk off, and considered whether to follow, feeling out of place, as if he weren’t part of the group anymore because he wasn’t a half-elf. His mind was still swirling from seeing Simi so clearly and from feeling his half-brother’s thoughts in the darkness of that place ruled by a different elvish race. Nix’s thoughts were interrupted by Tavik speaking to him through the tether, “You are one of us, Nix, and if you even try to leave, you’ll be travelling over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, so think wisely, cousin!”
Nix suppressed a snort of laughter as he watched Tavik walk without showing any sign of having spoken. He sighed and followed, half wondering whether Tavik could ever catch him off guard and carry him like a sack of potatoes. Nix thought he’d like to see him try as he hurried to catch up with his cousins, grateful for a distraction from worrying about his dream. Hopefully it was just a very clear dream and nothing more.
The forest began to change as they moved through it, as if it were loosening its grip as they approached the Crystalsong Elvish territories. The crystals became less like clustered growths and more like veins beneath the bark, as if hinting at order rather than wild magic. Small stands of trees, their roots cradling clusters of pale blue or rose-coloured crystals, hummed as their group passed by. Ferns with thin crystal filaments running through their fronds caught the rising sun like threads of molten glass, a beautiful and eerie sight that Bran wished he had time to fully examine, if it weren’t for the struggle to keep up with all these very tall people striding so easily around him. Bran felt it was like trying to keep up with a pack of galloping horses that were very tall, and he wondered how long he could keep up this crazy pace as he gasped and gulped, unable to jump over a fallen log as easily as the others. He felt surprise and relief as Tavik hauled him over, set him on the other side, and then pulled him along.
The silent Watchers kept pace, striding parallel to Liv and Olis. Occasionally, they’d glance back at the four boys scrambling behind, but no one slowed the pace. Tavik wondered if all elves went about at this speed as he reached out again and lifted his brother over a cluster of crystals, both of them gasping for breath.
After a while, a pale stone track began to appear beneath the forest moss, the stone bearing the meticulous carvings of symbols that Bran assumed were the marks of the elves. Stumbling over the smooth stone path and catching himself at the last moment, Bran saw tall shards of crystal rising from the earth, carved with runic sigils that glowed faintly in the sunlight. He felt the air around them shift, and a strange, sweet scent of rose petals lingered as long as the sunlight touched the carved sigils, then vanished the moment a cloud covered the sun. Bran slowed, staring at the crystals and wondering what the sigils meant, but was yanked out of his thoughts by his eldest brother, who reached out, gripped Bran’s arm and pulled him along. “Come on, Bran. You can’t dawdle here. We have to keep up.”
Bran allowed his brother to pull him along for a short while as he glanced around at more crystals bearing the same sigils and gestured to them. “Do you see the sigils? What do you think they mean? I could smell roses when the sun touched their markings. I wish we could stay and look.”
Oren had seen the sigils and wondered about their significance too, though it wasn’t the scent of roses that had him wondering, but rather a sense of trepidation that seemed to grow in him as he looked at the markings. Best not to dwell on these thoughts, he reminded himself. He shifted his pack to his chest, then turned, crouched, and hauled his younger brother onto his back, certain that if they didn’t move fast enough, the scribe and their mother would likely leave them behind.
Bran was relieved to have a break from nearly running to keep up, and he clutched his brother’s shoulders, looking around at the shifting forest as Oren strode to catch up with the others. He could see so much better from Oren’s height and get a rest at the same time. Bran noticed they were approaching a settlement as the trees began to look less scraggly and overgrown. The valley opened slowly, revealing colossal crystal-veined trees with chambers carved into their living trunks. The veins of crystal caught the midmorning light, scattering prismatic colours across the valley floor. Walkways and platforms were scattered among the tallest trees, which rose like spires, their crowns shimmering with refracted light.
Bran leaned closer and whispered to Oren, “There are elves watching us. Do you see them? Up there on those walkways.”
Oren looked up and saw the walkways and platforms between the tall trees, with a few clusters of tall elves. But these elves looked frail, and some leaned on their companions. Their eyes were watchful yet weary, and Oren wondered about what Liv had said before about a sickness within her kingdom, and thought briefly how few elves he saw. The elves who watched them stride purposefully into the settlement were similar to Liv, in that they were all very tall, some taller than Liv, and all looked just as fierce, their faces sharp and striking, their hair and skin reflecting the colours of the forest of violets, gold, green and indigo. A strange people, Oren thought as he shifted his grip on his brother’s legs and looked sideways at Nix. His cousin was looking warily around, ears flat to his head, eyes darting from one walkway to another.
Tavik walked on Nix’s other side, looking around at the strange settlement and the even stranger elves, wondering why he didn’t feel a kinship here in this place that was half his own heritage. Instead, he felt a strange rising fear from the elves who watched them so intently, and from Nix he felt raw fear and nothing else. He looked sidelong at his cousin and spoke through their tether, “What are you feeling, Nix? Talk to me. Why the fear?”
Nix’s ears lay flat against his head, and he kept his eyes on the elves watching him from seemingly every direction, whispering back through the tether, “They are dangerous, and I am their enemy! All I feel is their hatred for my Caelvarae kind. I want to run, but I’m afraid I’ll be killed!”
Tavik reached out and put his arm around his cousin’s shoulders. He didn’t say a word, but looked back at the watching elves with a warning look that he hoped conveyed how he felt about their threatening his cousin.
At last, Olis and Liv stopped and turned to look at the boys, who were now trundling up behind them, a collective anxiety permeating the air, rather than the excitement they might have felt at seeing an elvish settlement. Bran slid from his brother’s back and stood beside Oren as Olis spread his hand towards the settlement, which felt alive, but quietly so, as if shaped by magic and grief in equal measure. He lowered his voice and said, “Welcome to the Crystalsong kingdoms of Galena. Though it feels discordant here, you are welcome to rest while we make plans.”
Around them, a low hum emanated from the crystal seams, shifting with the quietly moving elves. Bran observed soft chiming where water ran through the crystal beds of small streams that wove through Galena. The great trees occasionally seemed to sigh faintly as their leaves stirred in unseen breezes high above, and here and there came the murmured sounds of voices, like wind through hollow stone. Bran felt it was a beautiful place, yet a deep sorrow was interwoven throughout, and a sense that the valley was holding its breath, as if waiting for something to shift.
