(I painted this on Procreate using the oil paint and turpentine brushes. -Chaiga T. Cheska)
The murmur of conversation in the hall faded to silence, and they all realised that every face in the room had turned towards the entrance, where a tall male elf stood with a crown of woven crystals at his temples. He was a giant even by elvish standards, filling the doorway. His hair was white, streaked with violet and curling short at his neck, and his skin was a pale emerald. He wore robes of silver and violet and carried a staff like a sapling drawn from the forest, its smooth wood veined with violet and indigo crystal. Liv sighed, stood, and raised a hand to him. Conversation slowly rose again around the hall as the other elves understood he had come only for his daughter. Liv greeted him by touching her thumb to his forehead, then bowed her head in respect before looking up at him. He towered over her. His gaze rested first on Liv, then swept down to the four boys seated at the table, all staring up at him in wonder. Deciding the simplest thing was to join them, he touched the joint of a nearby chair and let it grow to suit him, then sat and folded his long legs so his knees wouldn’t jostle the table, though he still towered over them all.
Liv gestured towards him and spoke quietly to the four boys. “This is King Ithomit, ruler of our Kingdoms and my father.”
Oren, Tavik, Bran and Nix gazed up at the tall elf and nearly forgot how to speak, but each bowed their head as Liv had done. The King smiled and waved a hand. “Please, there’s no need for ceremony. I am pleased to meet you at last. I was away when you arrived and have only now come to see half-elves, Lightweavers and a Caelvarae for myself. What an interesting family you are.”
Bran thought that if the King’s voice had a colour, it would be a deep amber brown flecked with violet, just like the rest of him. He was impressive not only for his height, but because this was the first King Bran had ever shared a table with. It felt daunting and wonderful all at once, and the thought that their own mother was a princess, and that this King was their grandfather, was almost too much to hold. Bran fought to steady himself and turned to Oren, who smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder.
Liv leaned close to her father’s ear and whispered in their own language. The King’s eyes widened. When she sat back, he looked at his daughter, then at Nix. Oren and Tavik drew a little closer to their cousin, uneasy, as the King tried to smile.
“In our language, Nix means ‘to cancel out’. It’s an interesting name. Which of your parents named you?”
Nix blinked up at the tall elf, found he had no answer, and shrugged. “I am called Nix because that is my name.”
Liv leaned forward in her chair, studying the blue boy. “You have Caelvarae storm magic early. I thought their magic came through much later, yet I see you hold your own storm in check.” She had watched the restless air gather around him and seen how a single touch from Tavik on his shoulder was enough to settle it. She turned her gaze to Tavik. “And you have some sort of connection to Nix, as if you share Caelvarae magic too, though I can’t understand how that can be.”
Tavik and Nix shifted uncomfortably beneath the gaze of the King and his daughter, both of whom seemed to watch their every move. “Is she sensing the tether, do you think?“ Tavik asked through the tether, his eyes flicking briefly to Nix.
Nix didn’t answer, unsure whether the elf could hear them. Liv narrowed her eyes at the pair, catching something she couldn’t name, then gave up and sat back. She turned to her father and gestured towards the boys. “Olis was here briefly. He was leading them through the forest when I found them. He didn’t stay, but he’ll be back, apparently.”
At the mention of the scribe, King Ithomit looked between his daughter and the boys, his brows drawing together. “You are friends with the scribe? How did you come to know him?”
Oren saw Bran draw breath to answer and spoke first, afraid his younger brother would say too much and not yet sure how far they could trust the elves. “A healer in Drakkensund, near where we come from, told us to find Olis. She said he was the one to seek out.”
Bran glanced sideways at Oren, wondering why he hadn’t mentioned the Burrowbacks. It seemed pointless to bring up Drakkensund at all, since he was certain that elves such as these would have no interest in the place, and he couldn’t see why Oren felt they needed to keep anything from them. Oren ignored him and held the King’s gaze.
The King leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’ve heard of this region in the Sentinel Forest, yes? Isn’t it a new region of sapling trees from another world, grown from seeds brought by beings who call themselves the Evolved Vikings? There are elves in that region, in the Emaris Mountains.” He turned to his daughter. “Perhaps we should reach out to our kin to learn what these humans are creating in the Emaris.”
Liv had little interest in such a remote corner of MirMarnia and showed it with a shrug, though the name had caught her. She turned to Oren. “Drakkensund, did you say? Land of Dragons? Are there dragons in this region?”
Nix looked at his cousins, then back at Liv, wanting to know more. Were there dragons in the forests where he had grown up? If so, why had he never seen one? As a child, he would have loved a companion, and he wished he had known the Sea Dragon then, when he had needed a friend.
Bran gave his eldest brother a look, thinking Oren had got himself into this and wondering how he meant to get out of it. Oren ignored him, keeping his gaze on the King and Liv. “I don’t know why Drakkensund is named as it is. It’s only a settlement on the banks of the Emaris. We took guidance from a healer there before travelling across MirMarnia to find the scribe.”
King Ithomit sat back, studying Oren, before answering carefully, “The only healer I know from that region is Yilda. Is she the one who sent you to the scribe?”
Bran’s mouth fell open at the mention of his mentor. “How… how do you know Yilda? She’s just a healer, not a wizard, not like… not like Olis!”
Oren nudged him to be quiet. Bran glared at him. “Seriously, Oren.” He waved a hand towards the King and Liv. “We’re not even in our own time, so how can an elvish king know Yilda, when she’s in our future?”
Liv sighed. “Olis told us about a healer in the future, in a place called Drakkensund, named Yilda. Olis has been visiting our people for centuries.”
Bran closed his mouth and sat back in his chair, resolving that when Olis returned, he would get some proper answers from the elusive scribe. Why would Olis talk about a healer in some faraway Viking village at all? It made no sense whatsoever.
The King and Liv sat in silence for a while, studying the four boys before them. The silence stretched until Bran toppled sideways with a yelp. He had been fiddling with the knot at the side of his chair, and his seat cushion had sagged, pitching him nearly face first into Oren’s empty bowl. His brother groaned, hauled him away from the table, and set him on his feet.
“Very impressive, little brother,” Tavik muttered, trying not to laugh, thinking their royal blood certainly wasn’t showing in Bran, who was as accident-prone as ever.
Liv decided they had sat long enough and turned to her father, who was already unfolding his long legs. “I’ll show them the city, then join the council later, if I may?”
King Ithomit rose slowly, resting a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and looking into her eyes. “Your sister is giving her address today, so you’ll have to sit with the delegates, I’m afraid. I have touring duties in our southern reaches.” He turned to the four boys as they rose from the table. “I hope you enjoy your time in our city. Perhaps we shall have time to speak tomorrow.”
They all bowed their heads as the King left the hall, and around them other elves fell silent and bowed their own heads as he strode to the great doors and pushed them open with one hand.
Oren, Tavik, Nix and Bran followed Liv out of the hall and into the bright afternoon sun. She paused to watch her father’s retreating back, then turned to the boys. “I have an hour to show you where you can safely explore in this city, but then I must return to my duties, and you’ll have to entertain yourselves until morning. The table in your guest house has the same magic to summon food from Mother Tree, should you wish to eat again. Come, I’ll show you the courtyards.”
