This was the most amazing place that he had ever seen. Donnelly followed the assemblage of elves as they led him and the others into the castle. He had never seen anything like this before. Everything looked as if it had been grown, not built. Even the stone walls of the castle gave the appearance of having grown straight from the ground up.
He couldn’t stop himself from staring at he looked around at everything. Or at the elves. There were so many of them and in so many shapes and colors. A group of them were sitting around a small pond that was surrounded by stones, looking as if it was a natural part of the earth and yet he had a feeling that it had been built there. All the elves there were made of varying shades of blues and silvers, even some colors that might be considered sea green.
Off to the other side there were elves that were tanned, their eyes and hair in shades of red and orange and yellow. Still more colored in the tones of the earth. A few, he could see, were the colors of the night. Blacks and purples. Every color he could think of was represented in one form or another. The beauty of it all was breathtaking.
A loud roar drew Donnelly’s attention skyward, instinctively making him freeze and panic. That sound was powerful and dangerous. But when his gaze lifted, he gasped at the sight he found. Two dragons were soaring through the sky, one green, one red, twisting and twining around one another in a dance more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.
He had thought the elves were breathtaking. They were nothing in comparison to the dragons. Donnelly stood frozen in awe, his fear forgotten, simply staring up at them.
“They are beautiful, are they not?” A musical voice said from beside him. Donnelly looked over briefly at the elf that stood beside him. This elf was male, his skin bronzed by the son, his hair like liquid fire down his back, stopping at his knees, his eyes a mix of red and orange and yellow. “Yes, they are.” He finally managed to respond.
The elf smiled at him before gazing skyward again. “Aside from saving us all from Rothalo, the return of the dragons to us is the greatest thing that the trulion and his baka have ever done for us.” With another smile, the elf gestured that they should continue.
Donnelly followed him, lost in thought. So much had happened that it just all didn’t seem possible that only days had passed. All of this was almost too much to take in. But he couldn’t deny it, not with the proof walking around before him.
But, to think that two people were the center of so much. Not just prophecy, which said what they would do. What they had already done seemed so large as well.
They obviously had the respect of everyone around here. Donnelly had heard the stories of a trulion all his life, told by his grandfather and father, but he had never really understood what that would mean if he ever met one. Hell, he’d never thought he’d meet one! Then, talking with Alyck and Brian, he’d thought he’d understood some what it meant for them.
He hadn’t even begun to understand that. But he was now. It was apparent in the way that they were treated as they all headed to the castle. As they’d stepped in, elves had called out to them, their voices ringing with joy. Those closest to them had dropped to their knees, their arms crossing behind their back as they dropped their foreheads to the ground in a weird version of a bow.
Even then, that could have been taken as a gesture to their King, walking with his arm around Alyck, his other hand reaching out to hold on to Brian’s, who was tucked under another elf’s arm. Anyone could have thought that the bows were for the King. Until you listened. Until you paid more attention.
Many elves raised their voices in supplication, crying out as the group came into view. They spoke in a flowing language that Donnelly didn’t understand, but that was like music in his ears. He did, however, understand the titles that were used. Trulion. Baka. That left no doubt that what they said was intended for Alyck and Brian.
One voice cried out, high and flowing in that musical language. Donnelly looked over and saw a dark elf, black in skin, purple/black hair, dropping down to her knees. It was undoubtedly a ‘her’. Even though he barely got a glimpse of her face before she was prostrated on the ground by them, he could tell by the feminine curve of her shoulders, back, and legs.
“Ree b’ta a trvnl, trulion!” The girl cried out, her forehead pressed into the ground.
The procession halted. Donnelly watched curiously as Alyck broke away from the King. He walked over to the kneeling elf and, to Donnelly’s surprise, knelt down in front of her and seized her shoulders with gentle hands. He drew her up until she was on her knees, face to face with him. The woman was beautiful, her eyes shining brightly like the night, black and silver and that purple that’s so dark it’s almost black. Tears fell from those eyes, making tracks down her cheeks and causing Donnelly’s heart to ache.
“What is it you would ask of me, child?” Alyck’s soothing voice seemed to ring in the sudden silence.
The elf looked at him beseechingly. “I am Neela. Please, trulion, my heart sings a song of pain and loss. My heart song, I cannot find him! Like many others, he fought against Roth. Some took a while to come home. Some were injured. Those we found, or hope that we did. But Lusheer, my heart song, I cannot find him. I do not know where he is, but I feel in my heart that he is hurt. Please, trulion, help me find him. I beg of you. I swear, my life is yours to do with as you will if you will but find him for me, please!” Great, wracking sobs cut off any more pleading that the elf might have had.
Alyck moved his hands to her cheeks, cupping her face and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. He murmured something in that musical language before switching back to English. “Link with me, child. Let me feel this magic you feel.”
There was a moment where Donnelly could sense their magic, each separate as they embraced. Then a flare as they joined together, became one. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath as the magic pulsed around them, growing and changing. But when it was gone he felt his breath whoosh out of him. Whatever they had done, he had felt it but it had been foreign to him, an alien way of working magic that he had never witnessed in his life.
Alyck wore a smile. “Your heart song is alive, ee’ana. As you feared, he is injured. But I rode the magic and I know where he is.” In one fluid movement, Alyck was on his feet, his face lifted to the sky, his eyes closed. A smile curved his lips.
Up in the sky, one of the dragons let out a loud roar and swirled, streaking off over the trees. Donnelly gasped at the sight.
He watched Alyck look back down at the woman who was still on her knees before him. “Neela, your heart song will be returned to us within the hour. His injury is grave, I will admit. Without help he will not survive to the night. As soon as he returns, he is to be brought straight to me, no matter where I am or what I do.” Alyck looked around him at everyone else, his face serious, until murmurs of assent echoed around them. Only then did he look back down at Neela. “I will heal him. Your heart song will be well by sunset. Cry no more.”
Neela prostrated herself before him yet again, her voice speaking earnestly in Elvish. With a gentle touch to the top of her head, Alyck smiled. “Rise, my child. It will be well.”
The procession started forward again. Donnelly stayed silent, lost in his thoughts, trying to process everything that he’d seen. If this was how Alyck was treated by beings as great as the elves, it was no wonder that Brian and their other friends had flipped so hard when Donnelly had spoken to Alyck the way he had.
Well, this was new territory for him! He didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to be doing or how he was supposed to treat everyone. All of his life had been spent with the acceptance of magic, yes, but in a mortal world. Even though his people had come from Nellador so long ago, Donnelly himself had never been there. It had been a story he was told his whole life, but he had never witnessed it himself. Not once.
Instead, he’d been raised in a mortal world where there was no King or Queen or Goddesses. He’d been raised as a proud man, strong in magic compared to the other mortals he’d come across in life. That made it hard for him now to be considered not only weak in magic, but a subject of another. His family was fated to serve this man, this Alyck, trulion, but that didn’t mean that he had to really be a servant.
Not that Alyck really treated him that way. Not in normal things. When it came to war talk or decisions, sure, the guy was a little highhanded. That was irritating but not something that he couldn’t deal with. Even if it did prick his temper. Well, ok, enflame his temper sometimes, to be honest. But come on, what guy doesn’t get annoyed when another man automatically starts handing out orders and expecting them to be obeyed.
But, other than that, he seemed a real nice guy. Friendly, even. He talked a little high class, with fancy words and that flowing speech that Donnelly was just coming to realize was particular to elves. Sometimes, though, he spoke in a rather earthy way, straight and to the point, no mincing corners. That was something that Donnelly could definitely appreciate.
As for the other one, well, the verdict was still out on that. Reflexively, Donnelly dropped a hand to where his gun usually sat. He had a feeling that things between him and Brian might come to blows at some point. There was a steady tension between the two of them. Looking at the back of Brian’s blond head, Donnelly worked to control the glower he could feel trying to slip over his face.
Oh, sure, Brian seemed nice. He seemed like the kind of guy you could really like. That is, if you could get beyond that ever present temper and his need to take everything said the wrong way. He had one hell of a short fuse when it came to how people treated Alyck. Or even how they spoke to him, for that matter.
He had to respect the man on some levels. It was obvious that Brian was fiercely loyal not only to his partner, but to the trulion. There was pride and honor in the man’s gaze, two more traits that Donnelly respected. But that was also part of their problem. Both he and Brian had plenty of pride, in themselves and in those closest to them. That didn’t exactly make for a friendly mix.
Crazy to believe that this guy, that either one of them, were once band members in the Backstreet Boys. The little profiles that Donnelly had read while they’d left Alyck, AJ, to sweat in the interrogation room had suggested that ‘AJ’ was a rebellious punk with a soft side underneath. The ones for Brian had depicted him as the fun loving, happy go lucky boy of the group, always ready with a smile or a joke. Crazy, in a good way. Hilarious. Friendly with everyone he came across.
Yeah, that was obviously a lie.
So many things had turned on their head in such a short time. How the hell was he supposed to deal with all of this? They couldn’t just expect him to accept it all and simply move about his life as if nothing had happened. Knowing magic existed and being able to wield it did not prepare a person to deal with something like…like this!
All thoughts dropped from Donnelly’s mind when they stepped inside the main room of the castle. He felt himself gasp, but his attention was on the room around him, not what people would think of his reaction. This was the most beautiful place he had ever seen. Ever.
Everything seemed to have just grown straight up from the ground. Tables, chairs, the beautiful thrones at the head of the room. All around the room were Elves, mingling and laughing. They seemed just as natural as the grass and the trees and the sunlight spilling in.
So lost in observation was he that Donnelly hadn’t even noticed that everyone had kept moving, or that the King had taken his place on the throne. Not until Alyck touched his arm did Donnelly startle enough to come back to himself.
He looked over into Alyck’s tricolored eyes, seeing compassion and understanding there. “Come, Maolán Ó Donnghaile. Stand before my King once and then we shall take our rest. Come.” With a gentle touch he led Donnelly forward.
It was like moving in a daze. All of this seemed too surreal. How could he take it all in? Then the King was speaking, and this was not a grandfather but definitely a King who spoke, and Donnelly could do nothing but listen to only those word.
“Maolán Ó Donnghaile, you were brought to this place by the trulion and his baka, oath sworn by the Goddess to serve in the quest to return our home to us all. Already, in this service, you have freed Alyck from a mortal jail and assisted him in his escape.” King Flreu smiled down at him from his throne. “Because of this all, I name you elf friend, welcome in our homes and amongst my people. May the Goddess watch over her own and shelter you in her hand.” Rising to his feet, King Flreu signaled to someone and music filled the room.
With a wide grin, Alyck turned to Donnelly and cupped his face, kissing each one of his cheeks. “Welcome, young Donnelly, to the home of the elves.”