"Awakening: Chapter One" by Elizabeth Fitzgerald

Even in the quiet pre-dawn hush that settled over the grey cloaked forest, the mighty waterfall was nothing but a dull roar in the distance, as it’s lifeblood lapped gently against the bare skin of a bathing maiden, before throwing itself recklessly over first one cliff and then a second, to pool several feet below and swirl on down its river path. Its cool touch massaged and soothed aching muscles as the beautiful elf-girl reclined in the shallows, relaxed in a ritual that she had performed alone every day for the last seven years.

Hers was a strange beauty, seeming almost unearthly, as if the water she immersed herself in had given birth. Long tresses, the deep colour of sapphires, swirled amongst the currents, curling slightly with the moisture. Her skin was almost the colour of the foaming white rapids below, silky smooth as it stretched over high cheek bones and a pert nose, while tawny eyes gazed at the lightening sky.

As if finally noting the passage of time, the maiden turned her gaze out to the canyon that her bathing place conveniently overlooked. Masses of great, tall snow pines lined the canyon floor, their enormous gnarled branches interlacing to form a veritable walkway suspended high above the ground, while the river that collected at the base of the first set of waterfalls cheerfully wended it’s way around their trunks and out of the canyon via a cave exit, muttering happily as it made it’s journey.

A few hundred feet away from where the cascades met the canyon, a second twin set of waterfalls crashed it’s way down into a pretty little grotto, bubbling gently up onto banks lined with clean, pale sand. Barely a step away from the shore, centred in a broad, verdant swathe of manicured lawn, a giant white spire rose toward the heavens. It seemed obvious that the architect had been inspired by the landscape, for the marble structure rivalled the great snow pines in both height and girth, imitating their twisting forms with far more grace.

A slight breeze whispered into the canyon, becoming a harmony, pure and true, as it wafted through the subtle hollows and turns of the faintly black veined marble. The sound was answered with an accompanying chord, drifting over from a large grass-covered shelf, situated beside the first set of waterfalls, where a second, identical tower proudly stood. These were the Towers of Midnight Song, so named for this very phenomenon and it was here that the elf-girl had spent the last seven years in training.

Idly humming a melody over the music of the towers, the maiden finished her survey of the canyon and turned her eyes back towards the horizon beyond, just in time to witness the dawn explode into sight. In a single moment all shadow disappeared, chased across the ground with a speed that outstripped frightened goblins, as sunshine burst without resistance through the needles of the giant snow pines in eager pursuit. Like liquid gold, it poured down the side of the defile, flowing with ease over the expansive floor of the canyon and the eclectic collection of buildings housed within, before surging up the other side to pool about the solitary spectator.

Bathed in equal parts water and sunshine, the young girl smiled, revelling in the warmth and light, as her soul seemed to awaken with the world around her. Eyes of amber drew in rays of the same colour, like a spindle drawing in thread, before time seemed to freeze in one perfect moment. Overcome with the awe of a spectacle she witnessed every morning, she murmured a prayer of thanks to the elven deities of time and beauty.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the moment was over, disappearing into the past as time resumed and the sun ambled its unhurried way towards the vast stretch of sky above the canopy overhead. Yet despite the completion of nature’s greatest miracle, the amber-eyed etrielle sensed that her surroundings remained almost imperceptibly brighter in a way that transcended the spectrum of light, as the forest stirred about her.

Reluctantly, she too stirred, the growing signs that the world had awakened, reminding her of the duties that would fill the hours ahead of her. Just what exactly they would be today, she was unsure. Ordinarily the slight girl would begin lessons within the hour, accompanied by other members of her Pryde. But today they were all on exercise with the various other faculties of training that the Towers of Midnight Song encompassed within its broad minded walls, leaving her alone with her Pryde’s master. In his typical laissez faire style, he had neglected to mention whether he intended to continue teaching, one on one, or whether the free-spirited girl had earned a day to herself.

Thinking that the last was highly unlikely, she slowly and unwillingly pulled herself from the river. A myriad of droplets trailed teasingly down her disrobed form to drip back down into the current. In her vivid imagination, the elf-girl saw them beckoning to her, urging her to give up her duties for the day and frolic in the water. Smiling at the image, she bent down to gaze at the rippling surface.

“I promise I'll be back tonight,” she told the currents fondly, before wading to the shore to dry off.

Another wordless tune drifted from her lips as she wiped her body free of the last lingering drops and wrung her glossy sapphire hair over the stream that had soaked it. Music had always been a large part of the young girls life, a constant companion through what had sometimes been a lonely childhood. It continued to be so now, as the intricate melody continued to leave her throat without thought. Each note soared higher than the last, until finally the singing maiden realised that it was not solely her own voice that serenaded the rousing forest. Listening carefully, she found that another had joined her, weaving their melody so perfectly with her own it was almost indistinguishable. Each pure note rolled effortlessly from hidden lips, almost seeming to read the young etrielle’s mind as she too sang on, puzzled by the strange voice.

A careful survey of her surroundings yielded no clues. The lushness that surrounded her at the top of the canyon failed to reveal any intruders hanging idly from a tree branch or strolling casually along the river banks, and yet the voice seemed near enough.

Completely confounded now as to the nature of her a cappella accompanist, the elf girl hiked up her pants and sat on the bank, dangling her feet in the water as she waited, willing the mysterious musician closer. The clear cool currents tickled at her pale toes as the gentle rapids rolled across her toes and slipped over the pads of her slender feet with ease. Eerily disembodied, the voice continued its duet with her, and her imagination began to conjure fantasies of water sprites teasing at her feet as they sang. A quickly stolen glance at her toes revealed no such thing however. Slowly growing frustrated, the elf girl continued to study her surroundings with keen eyes, as the mysterious voice drew closer, and a moment later the source became clear.

Suddenly materialising upstream, a handsome gold elf appeared as if out of the air, stalking down the river towards the girl. The extraordinary harmony of his voice was the only sound he made as he waded through the rapids like a great tawny hunting cat. Stripped to the waterline- which thankfully preserved his modesty- the dappled morning light gleamed off the slick bronze of his skin and sent molten flashes shimmering through his long golden hair. His sole concession to clothing was a black silken mask that covered his mouth and the lower half of his face without seeming to have any effect on the music that flowed from his lips.

Recognising the intruder, the elf girl smiled in delight, extraordinarily amused that her singing companion still wore his mask, even while bathing. A sparkle lit his eyes in return, as if reading the source of her amusement, while he waded ever closer, content to let the impromptu forest concert continue. Equally at ease the maiden kicked her feet idly through the rapids, studying her fellow bather as he approached.

He was older than her by at least a hundred springs, she estimated, an elf comfortably in his prime, while she still remained on the border of adulthood. His well muscled physique immediately gave him away as a trained warrior, a fact the elf girl could have easily guessed- even had she not already known him- by the sword strapped high on his back, well above the water.Already more familiar with its blade than she cared to be, she ignored the weapon, instead noting that his tanned body was completely unlined by scars, as most of their kind were. His lithe movements caused only the faintest of ripples in the river- each muscle working in harmony with the next just as their songs intertwined, transcending both pitch and timing.

Studying his movements with envy, the elf girl wondered briefly if she could possible imitate such fluid motion. She continued to observe, as he drew inexorably closer, until he was standing close enough for her to make out the details of his gold flecked eyes; tiny ethereal motes of sunlight playing on a background of the most vivid azure. His mask, too, developed more detail, revealing delicate silver embroidery that twisted its way around the material in the form of thorned vines. The silk stretched tightly across his face, revealing only the most tantalising glimpse of the handsome contours of his features.

Wondering for the thousandth time what he was trying to conceal, the precocious young girl kicked harder, her feet sending a great torrent of foaming water leaping towards the offending article. Her efforts were in vain however, for in a moment he was gone, disappeared into the very air he had materialised out of.

Her heart skipped a beat of frantic wonder, until her sense orientated to the sound of singing behind her. Warm, gentle hands glided with infinite ease over her back and before she had a chance to react, the elf girl had fulfilled her earlier promise to return to the water.

Spluttering with equal parts laughter and indignation, she surfaced, wiping away the long sapphire locks that had plastered themselves to her face as she searched for the culprit responsible for her dunking. For the second time that day, her heart skipped a beat, for to her dismay she found noone there.

A courteous tap on the shoulder soon alerted her to the location of her companion. A bemused eyebrow raised in expectation, he cocked his head to the side as, drenched, she turned to face him. Although his mask hid any real expression from her, his body language and the mischievous glint in his eyes spoke volumes. She also noted, with no small degree of satisfaction, that he too had not escaped completely. The fine silk of his mask remained securely tied, but was now dripping wet, the embroidered fabric slicking to the planes of his hauntingly elegant face like a second skin.

An enigma wrapped in an enigma, the girl thought, before greeting him wryly.

“Merry Morn, Master. Forgive me for not turning up to training, but I was distracted by a mysterious singer.”

“Merry Morn indeed. You are forgiven for the distraction, young Anariel,” he told the blue-haired maiden. “However where I am from it is usually traditional to bathe after training, not during.”

“As it happens I was doing neither,” she called saucily over her shoulder, as she waded towards the shore, unsheathing a long sword from her belt as she went.

“If that is what you believe,” he shrugged in his non-committal way.

Glancing toward him, Ariel became aware that although he remained in the water, he had since halved the distance between them. A dangerous looking dagger blazed intermittently in the dappled light, the reflected glare drawing her attention to where it had appeared in his hand. Exactly where he had been concealing it, Ariel did not care to speculate.

Keeping a wary eye on her master, she wiped her blade dry as best she could on the grass, upending her scabbard in case it hadn’t been as watertight as it should, before she began to strip off her sodden clothing, without any thought to self consciousness.

Having lived and trained with her for seven years, her master did not bat an eyelid as Ariel swiftly bared her lithe body, instead suggesting, “Since clothes do no appear to be on the list of prescribed training implements for today’s lesson, perhaps you shall join me once more for a bath?” Gesturing with his dagger to the water near him, the masked warrior made it seem like more of a direction than a question.

“As you wish,” Ariel replied, adopting his own detached attitude, as she turned away from her belongings.

He stopped her approach with a shake of his head, waving his knife with frighting casualness toward her weapons. “This morning you shall need both your sword and your wits.”

With an indifferent shrug, Ariel waded over to retrieve them, this time careful not to wet them any further. A chuckle and more shaking of his head met her cautious efforts, but she paid no heed as she patiently waited for him to begin the lesson.

The masked warrior closed his eyes for a second, as if drawing on his inner most thoughts, before he commenced. “As I have told you before, often in combat, as with diplomacy, the first strike is often the most crucial. A diplomat who is horribly underprepared for what they may face is just as sure to fail as a warrior without their chosen weapons and a firm grasp of the surroundings.”

He paused for a moment, seeking acknowledgment that the young girl had understood his words, searching for any sign that she agreed or disagreed with his statement. Ariel, however, gave no response, instead internally processing his words with an intent concentration she reserved solely for her studies, until he was forced to ask a question in order to gauge her response.

“Anariel, can you name two things which could be done to avoid this situation?”

Wishing once more that he wouldn’t use her full name- aside from sounding stuffy, it made her feel like she was fifty years old- she echoed his earlier words with a touch of sarcasm. “Always have your chosen weapon and a good grasp of the surroundings?” Pausing for a heartbeat, she continued more slowly, considering her words as she spoke. “Failing that, always have a backup plan- one that can be adapted to the situation.”

“Good. But perhaps you would elaborate on exactly what a good 'grasp of your surroundings' may entail?”

“It depends on the individual situation,” Ariel pointed out. “But knowledge of the surrounding terrain or the people you may be interacting with is a good start. To have some knowledge of your enemies weaknesses and how you may be able to use it to your advantage, just like a particular aspect of the landscape.”

“Excellent!” her master exclaimed, offering a rare praise for the etrielle’s keen mind.

Caught up in her own contemplation of the matter, Ariel barely noticed. Instead a small frown puckered the smooth, white skin of her brow as she offered, even more thoughtfully, “I suppose too, you have to have an understanding of your own strengths and weaknesses.”

The elder warrior nodded once in agreement. “With a complete knowledge of all these things, and a total understanding of each, I would say that such an entity would be undefeatable.”

A vision sprang to Ariel’s active mind of a strong gold elf, somewhat resembling her master, his eyes proud yet loving. A great longsword of intricate worksmanship held easily in one hand, the Allfather of her imagination deftly parried a bow before stabbing fiercely at one watery eye set deep in the porcine-featured face of Tilion, the Horned.

Oblivious to his student’s daydreaming, the masked elf continued his lecture. “To know each thing without the other is great folly, all too often engaged by our brethren. Elves too sure of their own prowess to wonder at the prowess of others, dragons too sure in their own guardian wards to consider their foes that slowly bite at them from the shadows.”

He paused for a moment, seeming to muse on his own words briefly before returning to the point. “In any such situation an evaluation of all these factors may lead to three obvious actions. Fight, delay, retreat. The later two I believe to be easily explainable, and so I shall leave a deeper analysis to another time. Instead I shall focus on the first.”

Ariel could not suppress a small smile at her masters predicability, unsurprised that the skilled warrior chose to expound on theaspect of active combat.

“There are three such ways in which to engage any foe.” He ticked them off on slender bronze fingers, as his bright azure eyes caught and held the amber of his students. “The first is to wait until he has attacked for you to counter attack. The second to strike at the moment he makes his move. Be it political or combative. And the final is to strike in premonition to the conflict.” His strikingly bright eyes continued to bore into her own, watching every tiny movement with the intensity of a predator ready to strike. “Which of these stratagems do you believe to be the easiest to carry out, and which the most difficult?”

Holding his gaze with unflinching directness, Ariel replied, “With proper knowledge of your foe they are of equal difficulty.”

“True,” the masked elf inclined his head slightly at his student’s answer, sending a long fall of his sun-bright hair tumbling over his shoulder. “But what if you were in such a situation as to be caught unprepared and decided to fight, rather than delay or retreat. Which do you feel would be of the most benefit?”

“It would be easiest to simply strike first in the hopes of catching your opponent equally unaware,” the elf girl returned patiently, for the answer seemed as obvious to her as she knew it was to her master. “In each of the others you would run a risk of reading your opponents attack incorrectly.”

“Indeed” he acknowledged her point, saluting ever so slightly with the tip of his gleaming wet dagger. “By taking the initiative and striking first, you can turn some small measure of the situation to your advantage. Those with nothing to loose, are often the most dangerous of opponents.”

Ariel nodded grimly as a memory of tattooed faces etched in desperation sprang to her thoughts with shocking clarity.

“To strike first and with secrecy where one does not expect is of infinite benefit,” the instructor of the Banshee’s Loft continued his explanation, before his demeanour seemed to change entirely. “But alas, I talk to much. Please try such a technique you could apply against me.” His features suddenly became devoid of expression, slipping into a neutrality as concealing as the mask he wore. He raised his dagger threateningly towards her, returning to an aggressive posture Ariel had seen him use many times before.

“Kenwar misacalar tené ignos.” A string of mystic syllables flowed out from behind his mask, the rhythmic chant forcibly reminding Ariel of the harmonies of his song, as his skin hardened and took on a rough grey texture. But any sign of playfulness had vanished with their music.. The Master of the Banshee’s Loft had always taught his students to train as if they were waging war, and so Ariel drew her razor sharp blade without fear.

Eyes resting on his star-flecked ones, the young etrielle did not allow her gaze to lock there, instead looking through him as her perception reached out around her, paying especial attention to the precarious footing the slippery river stones presented. Circling deeper into the water, she felt the cool currents swirl about her moving legs, and using its energy she lunged forward, her blade feinting an attack as one of her slender feet kicked out under cover of the rapids to trip him.

The attack was not a customary one for Ariel, and she hoped that the unexpected change in her tactics might catch him unawares. But to her dismay, the currents hampered her movements more than help, as she had hoped, leaving her master to easily parry her swing while her foot tapped harmlessly into his leg. Less than a heartbeat later the young elven maiden found herself staring down the hungry point of his dagger, the tip barely an inch away from her slim white neck.