"Almar Gothurdle and the Silver Bane: Case Opened" by Jermaine Leroy Joseph

6:

Now it seems that some explanation is required, since no person living or dead likes to feel confused when dealing with elves. Yet the explanation is long in the telling, and requires a head intoxicated by the sagacity of imagination. It is a tale that goes far away back in time, to a place of tall spires and bridges gracing the sky, held from gossamer thin wires. The elves did not live in these places, nor did they live only in the woods in such a time as folklore would have them do, hiding and plotting mischief, bonding themselves to trees and leaf. No, men lived in these glorious cities, warring with each other, destroying what had taken years to build up, only to wage war once more. What is hard to explain, and so needs the upmost attention to understand, is that for some reason the wars just stopped. Many said later that the elves had done something to achieve this, but has long been disputed. Suffice to say that mankind gave up all the grave weapons of vast power, and lived, for a while, in harmony with leaf and loam, wood and metal, and all things they had in their possession.
Does it sound like heaven?
No doubt it does, and yet after some time this new way of life began to die. It began to choke on itself. A man dying in the street would be ignored due to new laws preventing intervention in life or death situations. The body count rose, the lifespan lowered, wildlife that had begun to flourish also died. Free choice seemed to vanish into memory, into legend. Meat was banned, having a part in the law preventing intervention in life or death situations. Men walked now with the heavy eyes of the damned. War it seemed, had become mankind and without it they were like the dead, unable to function.
Does it still sound like heaven?
Knowing that you could never help a friend or family member if they were dying before your eyes?
And yet why not? War had gone, and fighting, and even science had begun to vanish, having no need for it anymore. Why not help a dying person? The laws were words, not enforced by any due to other laws preventing citizens from intervening in life or death. And so, slowly at first and then hurriedly, the world as men knew it collapsed.
And that was when the Gate opened.
Men, having found ultimate peace, and given in to the whims of life and death were unprepared for the gate, having lost all belief in religions. And when the Gate of Hell opened above Earth, men fell to them like reaped wheat.
They would have been lost had it not been for the elves. These beings, not so very different from men themselves, came with war in their posture, dressed in plate mail, and armed with lances and swords. But that was not all they came with. They came with mankind’s salvation: Magic, and the unremembered fact that men had once wielded such powers.
Numbering in the thousands, led by their warrior king Thor, the elves had rallied the men, driving out against the demons and the oncoming night. By the end, day had come, the demons had been driven away awhile and the elves had lost much. Thousands had come to Earth. Thousands would remain, buried under alien soil.
It was the war to wake men. And it had.
Guido knew his history, and realised that of the elves supposedly still alive, only two had been sighted. To see one, meant that life had turned a corner, taken a hard left and broke hard. To speak to one… well that was the problem. Since the War, no elf had even been said to speak to a man. It was, as you should see now, a near impossible thing.
There had been five elves left from thousands, their home world closed to them. Frey the archer was one, and then there were the two knights, Perseus and Falcorn. There had been the Elf Priest, Vine, who had given up his faith to protect the city of Paris with only twenty elves and an army of men – which at that time accounted for very little – and the Prince of these elves, Owain. It was said that he only appeared to those he respected. To those he felt he would fight beside.
To see him was a blessing and a curse.

7:

- Are you yet awake? -
Guido snapped upright and flung out flames in every direction. The cloaked figure held up a finger and watched as the flames swirled into one sun hot ball hovering on his fingertip. Of course, it was an elf.
“I’m awake, my lord.” The figure shook his head and once again drew back his wide hood, revealing a face of only twenty years at the most. But the power that Guido could feel coming from the elf made him fully aware that Owain used age like a mask, the greatest ruse. Now, Guido could feel that the man was disappointed. “Owain…”
“Good, you are awake. Guido Head, you must realise that my being here is not good for the future, for your future in general, and that of all mankind.” Guido nodded. “Right then, that’s sorted.” The man touched the sword hilt poking over his shoulder in a blessing and then stared intently. “Lighthider, do you wish to know my purpose here?”
“It would help.” The elf nodded. “It has something to do with the Hell Gate.” Prince Owain nodded and then looked about him in distaste.
“I come to find three things, Lighthider. First is a sword said to be hidden on an island lost long before my people came to your world, an island of the old myths, said to be in the north.” He grinned suddenly. “I must also find my people. Those that remain must be gathered. We must return home, and I understand now the way to do so.” Owain went silent for a moment and then grimaced. Still he said nothing.
“And the third…?”
“There is a city here, Guido Head. It is a city below the wilderness which is guarded by evils that would render common men speechless. There is a train that runs from there, a remnant of the old. Its last stop is London… do you know of it?”
“You know that I do.” Guido saw the elf nod, and couldn’t help but stare as the figure entered fully into his light.
Angular eyebrows perched majestically over eyes the colour of gold, copper coloured curls barely covered his ears and the face seemed to be chiselled from living stone; hard one moment, soft and innocent the next. Yet it was the eyes that held Guido. The spoke of a power beyond power, they spoke of history and age. This was Prince Owain, come to the world almost a millennium ago. How old was he? How wise? “And you wish us to reach London.”
“I do. For reasons that I will never tell, you must understand. But you and Almar Gothurdle must not die here, that I know and wish to try to prevent.” The elf paused. “Forgive me, but I have not fully introduced myself. I am Crown Prince Owain Morningstar… perhaps that should be enough.” He waited for a response. “You shall not see me soon, Lighthider, and when next we meet you shall not be as you are, and I shall have come into my full power. But know that I require your aid, and will continue to do so.” The elf drew on his hood and turned suddenly. “That is the third thing I sought, long ago foreseen by my ancestors.” The elf raised a hand in farewell, not looking back as he began to move towards the wall. He touched his sword in blessing again, halted and then looked back with a fierce smile that failed to touch those golden, kingly eyes. “Good luck to you then, Lighthider. Luck to us all…” He turned slightly to his right and vanished into thin air.
Once more Guido fainted.

THE END OF SUB-BOOK 1