Chronicles of Gilderam: Book One: Sunset (31 page)

“Yeah, right, but….” Owein sighed. “Never mind.”

Owein glanced over his shoulder at Shazahd and Audim, whom the group had left behind. They whispered to each other, their foreheads touching. He lost sight of them as they left the platform down a railless staircase bulging from the side of the great tree.

The feast took place in one of the largest and highest open spaces of the Inner City, near the very top. There, a vertical trunk diverged into three massive branches, each of which sprouted off at a low angle, leaving a shallow bowl between them.

The elves did not eat at tables, but instead laid down swathes of soft blankets all around, and atop them piled clusters of cushions and pillows. Chancellor Eridanean brought his guests to the center of the bowl, where a special ring of cushions had been arrayed for them. When they arrived, other elvish nobles were already seated and waiting for them.

Owein felt the ground squish beneath his feet and it made him a little uneasy. The rugs, or whatever they were, were certainly not made on any normal kind of loom. The material was thick and hairy, more like a pelt than a carpet. But given the bright and varied colors they were, he couldn’t guess what animal they might have come from.

“Please, sit,” Chancellor Eridanean bid them, indicating the circle of cushions. “It is my great pleasure to offer you some of our famous elvish cuisine,” he said. “We take a lot of pride in it. Ah! Here we are.”

A team of servants combed the dining area with trays of food so big that each took two elves to carry. They deposited them on the floor in the middle of the circle, laden with heaps of steaming rice, piles of mysterious vegetables, stacks of wet leaves, and bowls of strange sauces. There was one that carried a mound of charred rodents, another covered with the largest whole fish Owein had ever seen, scales and all, one full of long-legged insects, and one that held a single, enormous black serpent coiled into a tall cone.

“Enjoy!” said the chancellor, and they set about devouring the food as goblets were filled with something dark from large bladders.

“You have to try this,” said Shazahd. “It’s my favorite.” She picked up a blackened rodent and sank her teeth into it. “Hmmm… so tender…!”

Owein surveyed the food uncertainly. He reached toward the platter of rice with his hand, but Levwit stopped him.

“Like this.” Levwit took a wide leaf first, and used it to scoop up some rice. He threw on some greens and dribbled a little sauce over it. Finally, he picked out one of the insects and set it on top. “For texture,” he said. “A nice crunch.” Then he rolled the whole thing up into a tight bundle and took a big bite. He closed his eyes in ecstasy, moaning.

“Oh…
delicious!
” he said with a full mouth.

Owein assembled something similar for himself, but skipped the insect. To his surprise, it really was delicious. The rice was spongy and flavorful, not bland like he was used to. The vegetables were crisp and fresh, though foreign to his palate, and the sauce he had chosen at random was sweet, but balanced. Even the leaf wrapping was somehow tasty. He started making another while he was still chewing the first.

A strange chirping noise from behind caught Owein off guard, and he nearly sprang to his feet when he saw a tiny creature crawling over the cushion beside him.

“What the
gweith
is that?!” he cried.

The animal was the size of a small dog, but had the anthropomorphic form of a skinny monkey and the facial features of a rabbit. It looked back at him, just as curious, and flicked its tall ears. Owein heard a few snickers, but ignored them, focusing instead on trying to remain calm.

“That,” said chancellor Eridanean, “is another of our guests. Don’t be alarmed. He’s only come to dine with us.”

The creature crept right down the cushion alongside Owein and sat near his feet, helping itself to some shoots.

“You eat with wild animals?” asked Vrei, trying her hardest not to sound rude.

“Heavens no!” said Eridanean. “He’s not wild at all.” And he pleasantly returned to his fish tail.

Owein attempted to continue normally, as though there weren’t a miniature ape eating at his feet, when he noticed that strange creatures were appearing from all around. Some came swinging down from the branches above, while others slithered up from below. They all came to feast with the elves.

“Do you share all your meals with the forest?” asked Jerahd, who was staring down a lizard that had appeared on a pillow next to him.

“It shares with
us
,” answered an elvish nobleman simply.

Jerahd offered a hand to the lizard, which willingly climbed on, and he set it on the floor next to the food.

Shazahd and Audim were whispering to each other when Shazahd laughed out loud, catching everyone’s attention.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Show him.”

And they both looked at Owein.

“All right,” Audim said. “Owein. Do you have a coin on you?” He nodded, and swallowed down another bite. “Well, may I see it for just a moment?”

Owein dug in his pocket.

“You’re not going to give it to the jungle or anything, are you?” he said, tossing him one.

“No, nothing like that.”

Audim slid onto the floor, kneeling, and straightened his back. He flipped the coin around in the air a couple times, sending it higher and higher with each flip.

“Careful with that,” cautioned Owein, eyeing the coin. “That’s three mar–”

He was interrupted when, at the top of its ascent, the coin suddenly burst into flames – exploding with a
pop
. The little monkey at Owein’s feet shrieked.

The foreigners stared wide-eyed at the plume of smoke hanging in the air where the coin was last seen, and a dust of tiny, golden particles rained down all around them. Owein held out his hand to catch the metallic flecks. After a moment, they grew very bright, then faded completely away until nothing at all was left of them.

He wiped his hand on a cushion, though there wasn’t anything to wipe off, and furrowed his brow at Audim. The golden-haired elf was beaming, his smile showing off a set of perfect teeth and a chiseled jaw.

“You owe me three marks, pal,” said Owein gruffly.

Audim laughed. “Do I?”

Owein crammed the last of his leafy wrap into his mouth and chewed it indignantly until he bit down on something hard. Moving it around in his mouth, he quickly determined whatever it was to be inedible. The elf was laughing harder than ever as Owein pulled his own three-mark piece out of his mouth. Then everyone joined in laughing.

Owein had to smile to be polite.

“Cute,” he said. “A nice parlor trick.”

“That’s no trick,” said Shazahd. “That was magic, Owein.”

“Sure it is,” he said, cleaning off the coin and holding it up to display the profile of the Empress etched into it. “And this is the Queen of Wralland.”

“Can’t you believe in anything?” she said a little breathlessly.

Owein was taken aback by the severity in her eyes. An uncomfortable silence overcame the dinner. Nobody knew what to say.

“Well, Chancellor,” Levwit blurted at last. “Thank you so very much for taking such good care of us! You are a superb host!”

“We are in your debt,” Vrei added.

“It is nothing at all,” said Eridanean.

“With all this merrymaking,” said Levwit, “one could easily forget that a war is afoot. You seem almost to have forgotten it yourself.”

“Forgotten? I wish.” The chancellor chuckled. “But you may put it from your mind. There really is nothing to fear.”

“Nothing to fear?” said Fulo. “Forgive me for being so bold, but how can you be so at ease when the entire Imperial Navy is on its way here to destroy you?”

“But of course it is. That was our intention.”

This caught everyone off guard.

“Excuse me,” said Levwit. “But did you say… your
intention?
”

“I did. You don’t suppose that we elves are as ignorant about the world around us as our brothers to the north, do you?” No one had a response for that. Eridanean took a swig from his goblet before continuing. “This age-old strife between Divar and Gresadia has been brooding for centuries. In the past, we tried a policy of non-aggression and found, most regrettably, that our human neighbors were not receptive to our example. In fact, it seemed that our pacifism only agitated them further. The bloodlust of Gresadia was thought to be limitless. Eventually, when that policy had clearly failed, it was decided that the bloodshed had gone on long enough.”

“You devised a plan to end it?” asked Jerahd aptly.

“Indeed. We foresaw the inevitable desire of Mankind to bring this foolish conflict to a violent end, and we prepared ourselves for it. We have been strategically feigning weakness, militarily as well as politically, for years in order to lure the Empire into war. Even if we could survive an offensive campaign against them, such a course of action would be in direct contradiction with our way of life. The Called Upon do not attack, we only defend. Our only option was to trick them into diverting their own power into a full-scale invasion. That way, we could secure the safety of our own people, who are protected by the forest, and simultaneously save the lives of countless Gresadian civilians.”

“The only loss,” said an elvish aristocrat, “will be Her Imperial Majesty’s dear armada.”

“Not a terrible exchange, though, is it?” said another. “When considering that this will end the vicious squabbling once and for all.”

“Oh my gods…” mumbled Levwit absently. “You’ve put the Empire on one leg… and now you’re going to topple her over.”

The chancellor nodded, and took another sip from his goblet.

“But have you considered all the implications?” said Jerahd. “There are some in Gresadia who are counting on a defeat for the Empire. There are plans already in place to gobble up what remains.”

“The Church?” offered Eridanean insightfully. “The Tricorns? They are inconsequential. All the institutions of Man are flawed by the same recurrent shortcomings, but at least some of their agendas are less centered on elvish genocide.”

“What about the prophecy?” asked Jerahd. “Surely you are aware of the signs?”

“We are. Our seers have been receiving visions for years now, though the proximity of Aelmuligo has recently clouded our sight. The House of the Gods bombards our own world with incredible magic.”

“But you know that the next step is the destruction of the Inner City….”

“We know that that cannot happen. Trust me, my friends. We have been preparing for this war since before your parents were born.”

“Feth is reawakened,” Jerahd said abruptly.

For the first time, chancellor Eridanean looked surprised.

“…
What
did you say?”

“The Dark Sorcerer. He is risen.”

“How do you know this?” asked another elf.

“I have seen it. I was there. My people, we… we tried to stop it, but….” He trailed off. His head fell and he looked away. Owein was certain he was trying to hide his face… were there tears in his eyes?

Eridanean turned to a female elf beside him and spoke to her in Elvish. The sound of it struck Owein’s ears like a hammer made of warm velvet. He realized now that, until this moment, every elf he’d so far encountered had spoken Gresadian. Rapt, he listened to them speak. Theirs was peculiar tongue, and undeniably beautiful. It was full of liquid vowels that dripped over hints of consonants, making his own language seem, in comparison, rugged and brutish.

Eridanean turned back to Jerahd and said, in Gresadian again, “You need to speak with our clerics immediately.” The female elf stood. “Lerana will take you. Go.”

Without another word, they were gone. The chancellor looked distinctly unsettled for a moment, but then regained himself.

“Well,” he said. “Our dinner is ended. Before we retire for diversion, let me remind you that you and your crew may stay among us for as long as you like. You need never return to Gresadia again. Indeed, after this war is over, you may not want to. If you so desire, you are welcome to live here among us in the Inner City. We would be honored to adopt you as citizens.”

He bowed to them with a hand over his chest. At the end of his bow, a trumpet rang out from far away. It gave a deafening blast, long and low, and brought the entire feast to a standstill. As it faded away, it was replaced by a thunderous rushing sound from overhead. Owein looked up, and was alarmed to see the upper branches of the great tree exploding to life.

Millions of birds, and other more exotic flying creatures, had been rustled by the horn, and now came swooping in at full speed to the feast below. An all-consuming brume of wings descended around them, and Owein dove into the pillows for safety, covering his head with his arms.

When he felt nothing but the rushing of air, Owein peeked from between his forearms and saw the birds ravaging not people, but food left on the trays. In just a few seconds, the mighty flock returned to the air and to the branches overhead, leaving the feast as peaceful as they had found it.