"Black Moon in a White Night (Part II)" by Diogo Dionisio Teles

Black Moon in a white night (Part II)

Half sleeping he followed the sounds of laughter to one of the houses, "the local tavern maybe", he thought. This house was in fact the largest of the hamlet, an L shaped wooden cottage with two stone chimneys rising through the wooden roof. At the entrance stood a great war horse, a strange sight for such a place he though. War horses were normally used by armies or the occasional adventurer in need of a steed which doesn't get scared easily. It was starting to rain again and he rushed to the door facing the road, at the left of the horse, between two smudged windows that didn't allow a clear

view from the inside. It was unlocked and he entered, as he did a small cloud of smoke escaped from inside. The air was heavy with the scent of roasted meat and bad ale. A large rectangular table was set in the centre of the room. Three men were sitting at the other side of the table and with their backs to the door two womanly figures. All halted as he entered, he felt suddenly uncomfortable. The five at the table looked at him, the women turned back on their chairs. At the left end of the room was a counter, the women behind it, also human and in her mid forties, opened her mouth as if to say something but no sound came out.

 Jerta, the innkeeper, looked at this second stranger with even more suspicion, as she instinctively cleaned with an old cloth the clay mug in her hand, for the fourth time. Her attention was sustained on the young elven boy standing at the inn's entrance. The ringmail covering a brown shirt shone with the soft reflection of the tavern light. The worn pants he used were padded with leather armour. Another fighter, she thought, this one seemed to have been caught outside during the downpour. His clothes were soaked; the water gave a darker shade of green to the cape he wore and his leather backpack shone as the grease covering it still prevented the more persistent drops of water from entering. Skilfully tied to the left side of the backpack stood a quiver with arrows and a simple short bow made with plain brown wood. His long black hair was thrown back over the backpack in a messy spread that ended a few inches bellow his shoulders. His leather belt held a sheathed sword, half covered by the cape and from which a metallic pommel bounded with leather strips stood out. The sound of dripping water hinted the formation of a small pool in the place where he now stood. The elf's green eyes met Jerta's gaze and sustained it, she trembled inside and evasively looked down at the mug in her hands. She had seen other elves in her life, occasionally one stepped by the inn, but never did their beauty ceased to make her heart ache every time one crossed her way. So pure and yet, so inviting. But this elf was a warrior, or so it seemed to her, the ones she knew were mostly farmers and their wives, joyful citizens of an elven settlement to the east, who stopped at the inn for a meal and a few minutes of rest in their travels to the larger cities around, where they traded their goods.

She looked up at him again, he looked into her eyes uncomfortably, his face showed an expression of great fatigue as if he were about to collapse right there at the entrance. She gathered some courage and talked:

            "Come on in, they wont bite" she said throwing a glace at the customers on the table, which were still glaring at the elf. "Well, won't bite you at least!" she forced a giggle, trying to break the sombre mood that had settled in the room. The elf approached the counter; the five sitting at the table followed him with their eyes and with a look of mixed curiosity and fear.  As he reached the counter the elf forced a courteous smile:

            "It seems to me that elves aren't seen much around here. I entered because I could go no further as my legs were beginning to fail on me, I ask for food and lodging if it is an inn that I have entered. Otherwise, if I have invaded a private house, then I ask for sympathy with a worn out traveller and for you to please, let me at least dry my clothes and my bones by your fire."

            "Welcome young elf" answered the innkeeper; the five figures at the tavern finally turned to each other and resumed their conversation, starting the topic that would probably be this week’s talking subject in the small hamlet. "It's not that we have never seen an elf around here, they do pass by occasionally. But they are farmers and forest folk, what's strange is the appearance of a warrior elf in these lands."

              "I am no warrior, lady" he said with a sigh of one who couldn't stand on his feet much longer. "I'm just a traveller from distant lands who had to think of protection for a journey that one would expect to be long and lonely. I pose no danger to anyone who leaves me and my backpack at peace." Jerta looked relieved; this elf didn't seem to care for anything but food and rest.

            "Well then traveller, my name is Jerta and I am the landlady of this here inn so, if you want food and rest, you shall have it as long as you have three silver coins to spare." The elf reached for his belt pouch and looked inside with his fingers, eyes fixed on Jerta and smiling with relief. In an instant a gold coin was set on the counter.

            "Thank you for taking me in, this is to show you my appreciation." Her eyes flashed, are all travellers like this? She'd been complaining about business all week and now, in just two days, two men came in and paid a day's lodging with enough money to buy an entire week of it!

         "Well, bless you young elf!" she said, quickly removing the coin from the counter "follow me, I'll show you to your room. Wait there for just a while and I'll take you your dinner. You can eat there, that way you won't have to worry about drawing attention to yourself."

            "I don't" he answered resolutely "I just want to rest, let them look all they want." And these were the elf's last words for the day. He followed Jerta through a door on the back wall and left to the counter, into the other wing of the L-shaped house. There was a corridor with three doors on each side, one for each room. She took a key ring from her apron's front pocket and opened the second door to the right. The rooms were tidy; she dusted them all once a week. They had only what she thought to be essential for their low price: a bed, a chair, a small table and a washing stand with a jar full of water.   

            "Here we are, you'll find it's all cleaned up. The bed was made yesterday and I've put fresh water in the jar this morning. Wait a few minutes, I'll get your food." The elf smiled and nodded as Jerta left the room and closed the door behind her. Five minutes later she came back with a bowl of chicken stew, some bread and a mug of ale. After knocking on the door there was no answer, she tried again before giving up and said to herself: "This one is going to eat a day's worth of food at breakfast". With a smile she went back to the inn's main room and closed up the place for the night.

***

The sun was already high when Davien opened his eyes. He was lying on the bed facing up, as he was when he had decided to rest for a little while yesterday before supper. He had fallen asleep and his clothes were still wet. The room was full of sunlight coming from a window above the bed's head; dust could be seen floating on the sunbeams. He got up and the wooden floor creaked as he walked to the chair were had lain his weapons and backpack. After checking for any missing equipment he poured some water into the wash basin and tried to wash away the morning laziness. A clumsy attempt to comb his hair with his fingers proved unsuccessful, as its ends refused to untangle. After picking up his equipment Davien opened the door and headed through the room wing into the inn's main room.

Inside, behind the counter, was Jerta; a door behind her was open and showed part of what appeared to be a kitchen. Part of a large cast iron oven could be seen and the smell of cooked meat lingered in the air, remembering him that he hadn't eaten in a very long time. His stomach complained noisily.

At the main table a single man stood. He sat there eating bread and cheese and drinking what seemed to be warm wine, probably spiced, from a steel cup. The sunbeams shot through the room’s windows; one of them shed light directly on the sitting man. Davien approached a chair on the opposite side of the table and sat facing the other guest.

            "Good morning" said the man with in a merry tone, a voice that hinted a polite manner.

            "'Morning" Davien replied. "So, you must be the second warrior guest Jerta was talking about last night." He examined this human more carefully. The man was clad in very fine leather armour, studded with what seemed to be bronze rivets, engraved with some kind of crest which resembled a unicorn standing over a shield depicting a tree. Leaning against the table was a long sword of excellent craftsmanship, the blade was sheathed but its pommel was made of silver moulded in such a way that it reflected the sunlight as the wavy surface of a lake; it ended in a women's head whose expression seemed oddly familiar do Davien. The scabbard was made with silver scales of some reptilian animal which shone like they were made of real silver, maybe they were.  

            "Well I am a warrior indeed" he said smiling, "but if I am to be the second, or the third, or even the fourth in the landlady's count I am unable to tell you. I am very pleased to have elven Company for breakfast; it has been many long weeks since I had such an honour."

            "So the horse outside is yours?"

            "Yes indeed my friend, my only company in many lonely days of travel." He smiled again, this time more broadly. A joyful tone gave warmth to his words. Jerta came out of the kitchen with a tray holding food and drink.

            "Good morning" she said with a casual voice "I see you two already met."She added another cup of spiced hot wine to the table, placing it in front of Davien along with more bread and cheese.

            "Well, we have not quite met yet, I'll say we're still meeting." Davien smiled as he spoke and Jerta started to walk away.

            "Whatever, I'm sure you two have a lot to brag about of your own doings to each other." Saying this, always with a landlady's business like smile, she headed back to the kitchen carrying the empty tray.  

            "I must beg your pardon for not introducing myself properly. My name is Cliven Solkan; I am on a journey back from the city of Lakara. Would you be kind enough to give me your name sir?"

            "It is enough for you to know that I am only one more elf in the world, travelling around without roam on a dull land and, without little patience for petty chatter." Davien said with a sight that could be considered all but arrogant.

            "As you wish, but allow me to remind you that just moments ago you were the inquisitive one." The man smiled once more and paused before resuming "Travelling without roam on a dull world?" He let out a little laugh.

            "What?" Davien asked, not looking pleased.

            "I don't think that any traveller is ever really without destination and, as for this world, I can tell you that the word dullness is seldom used to describe it by those who know it!" His smile broadened, now looking as if he was amused with Davien's perspective. "By your description of it, either you have been living in the depths of some remote forest all your life or, you are an extraordinarily young elf. I'm sorry if you don't like petty chat, as you call it, I shall bother you no more."

Silence fell over the room as they avoided to trade any glances and concentrated on their food. The sounds of munching and Jerta occasionally talking to herself or to the pans were the only thing that indicated life in the hamlet at this time. The other inhabitants were either asleep or had already left to tend to their fields. After a few seconds of silence Davien had time to rethink the small dialog. Cliven seemed to be inclined to keep his promise and that, was making the loneliness he felt since he had entered this world come back. This man seemed too educated to be just some freelance warrior looking for an opportunity. The crest in his armour means he must have some king of allegiance.

"If I am to continue my journey I might as well do it with someone" he thought. Looking up at the leather clad man in front of him, he tried again:

            "I'm sorry for my rudeness but my last day of travel left me a bit out of myself, my limbs are aching and I don't really think it will get better in the next days."

            "Well, the weather at least is getting better."

            "Fortunately it seems that way, at least the sun shines bright outside. My name is Davien, and I'm glad to have met you here Cliven. These lands are deserted beyond the boundaries of the settlements, it gets very lonely sometimes."

Cliven smiled warmly, the expression on his face was of pure goodness and understanding, it showed that his face was no mask for other feelings. He made no reply and sipped some of the remaining wine which was now cold and rather tasteless. Davien grabbed his cup and made the discrete gesture of a toast in the warrior's direction after which he sipped a little of his own wine. It was sweetened and spiced with cinnamon, a very fitful complement for the strong goat cheese that Jerta had served them. Davien smiled and, putting down his cup, resumed what he had called petty chat.

            "So what was your business in the city of Lakara? It seems to be a long way from your home." Asked Davien, in spite of the fact that he had never heard of that city and had no idea of where the man lived.

            "Indeed it is!" Cliven answered still smiling warmly. "An ocean and two hundred leagues away to be more precise." The elf's face showed his surprise.

            "That sure is a long travel, your matters must have been

important.

            "Well I certainly hope they were, but I will not know to which extent until some time from now. I came as a diplomat for king Thangard of The Kingdom of The Elven Forest." Davien smiled at the name of the kingdom but said nothing as Cliven kept talking. "I am an official within this kingdom's army and sometimes it is required for me to undertake diplomatic missions, when military interests are involved." Davien's interest in the conversation grew and his posture showed that he was felling more comfortable. He leaned over the table and rested his head on his fist looking at Cliven.

"So does that mean that your kingdom is going into war?"  He asked.

"No, not at all. We have been enjoying some good and fortunate years of peace and our relations with our neighbour's couldn't be better. I came here to talk to Drusius Cenric king of Kalmadran, the kingdom where we now stand, about the details of a military tournament he organizes every year. We have the intention of creating a similar event at Emuryen our capital city. It constitutes a good motivation for the soldiers and will provide an annual boom of people. And foreigners always bring good money during these events."

Cliven talked enthusiastically and seemed to be going on to talk a lot more had Davien not cut him of.  

"Whoa! That's too much politics for me, I'm just a young elf exploring the

world for the first time" and he laughed. Cliven grinned and they both paused a few seconds to finish what remained of the breakfast food. A man dressed in simple farmer's clothes and carrying a shovel entered the inn. He sat at the table like someone sitting at his own table at home and said hello to them with a glance and a gesture of his hand.

"Jerta!" he yelled. "John is here! Bring me some breakfast!"

"On my way! And try to keep it down will ya! I have guests!" Jerta shouted in answer from the kitchen. Davien and Cliven looked at each other repressing a fit of laughter.

"It seems we must leave our talk as it is. My friend, I must resume my journey or I will displease my lord with unnecessary waiting. I think the weather will hinder me no more. And, believe me, you have a very wrong idea about this world. I do not know where you come from and I think it is quite curious the fact that you refer to the lands you now travel as another world. Either you were truly isolated in your homeland or...well never you mind. What I meant to tell is, you will notice in your travels that you will never know when something strange can come…" Cliven was suddenly interrupted as the inn's door was thrown open hitting the side wall. A woman entered the room abruptly, literally running inside with an accelerated breath like someone who had been running for a long time "...barging through the door." Cliven finished his last sentence looking astonished at the lady. Davien stopped, mesmerized by the strange and pleasant surge of chaos which broke the rather annoying orderly atmosphere of the inn.

***

 The woman was doubtless from out of town, she had a very long dark hair reaching just above her waist and freezing blue eyes. She was dressed in clothes made of very fine silk, a main purple dress fastened at the waist with a deep purple lace. Covering her body she wore a very long cashmere veil transparent enough for the blue of the veil to mix with the purple of the dress. A necklace hanged from her neck and small rings adorned her hands. This is way above the standards of this village; she must be nobility or the wife of a rich merchant, thought Davien. The women appeared to be in her twenties, but her eyes showed the maturity of a much older person. Cliven gasped, Davien glanced at him and for a moment his expression was very dark, his skin went pale and his lips grasped a purplish tone. He looked at Davien quickly and smiled with a look-at-this kind of smile, but his expression remained somewhat sombre. Davien grinned and looked again at the woman.

She looked around hastily and her eyes widened as she looked at the two of them and approached their table:

"Thank you to all the almighty gods! I've found you!" she said in an exasperated voice.

"You've found us?" Davien asked suspiciously, Cliven just smiled, smiled with a very strange smile.

"I was looking for this town's guard but some villager told me that there was no real guard here. He also told me that I would be able to find two passing warriors at the inn so, I ran here as fast as I could. I am desperate kind sirs! Please help me!" The woman tried unsuccessfully to repress some tears; she had a look of utter helplessness on her face. Davien pulled a chair from the table and invited her to sit. She did so and looked at him with begging eyes.

"So what troubles you my lady. You seem very much dislocated in such a small farming settlement. I am a wanderer and I might be able to help you if the task pleases me." Davien said.

“Dislocated is a nice way to put it. I have been expelled from my own house by my husband and he sent killers after me. I am a Duchess from the coastal city of Danish. I gained this title by marrying a human noble, Duke Gharnen, in charge of taxation of the lands around the city. I liked him but suddenly he became strange, about a week ago he became very aggressive and now, he even tried to kill me!  It was two days ago, I ran away, but yesterday I was followed from afar, I heard the sound of horse hooves tracking me. I made way through the forest and ended up here. They are after me! I will die if you don't help me! Please!"

"Calm down lady, no one will harm you here. But something is strange in this story and it was told too quickly for my taste. Why would your husband turn on you? There must have been some reason, some kind of occurrence that might be related perhaps. Is there any?" She was clearly hiding something Davien thought. His suspicions were confirmed when she lowered her tone to a whisper and leaned closer to them. Cliven remained at a distance, leaning back on his chair and observing.

"It's our daughter" she said in a whisper. "He wants her for some obscure reason.  You see..." she paused her face showed fright and despair "...he is a sorcerer." Silence fell on the table…for an instant everyone seemed to be taking in her words.

"So what? There are many sorcerers en every world there's nothing special in that. I've got some good hocus-pocus friends myself. That's almost being racist, judging a person evil just because he does magic!" Davien said in such an abrupt way that made Cliven's jaw drop with surprise. She, on the other end, seemed unaffected by his words and continued to answer Davien's comment.

"True." She said. "But my husband's way with magic never tended to go with the…how shall I say…lighter path. He was never talented with magic and he resorted to darker ways in order to gain power. I'm afraid he might... use our daughter in a ritual. I listened to a conversation he had with a very close aid, they were talking about a sacrifice to invoke some kind of fiendish entity. They called it succubus I think. I said he would be able to exert his will upon this entity if the sacrifice was made. I am sure he means to sacrifice our daughter!

"A Succubus" interrupted Cliven. "What kind of devil is that?" Davien replied before she could even start thinking of an answer:        

"It is a seductress, a kind of demon that assumes the form of a gorgeous female to captivate the souls of mortal men and corrupt them." He said this with such a natural and unfelt way that he might as well be talking about the weather. She looked surprised.

"Yes that might be it! It would explain a lot. He became more and more dark faced during the last days. Maybe he has already had some contact with her through magic. "

"Possibly." Davien agreed, he looked at Cliven who was thoughtful again. "Cliven, you were going to cross the ocean to your homeland weren't you?" He asked rhetorically. "What's the name of the city where you intend to board a boat?" Cliven smiled slightly.

"Well actually, it's Danish." The woman smiled broadly.

"Then you were going there anyway! Please help me to get my daughter back!"

"Your story is interesting, but I am on an errand and have little time to spare. But, were my friend here willing to join me," Cliven smiled at Davien with a rather devious look "I would help you to the best of my capabilities." The elf looked at the woman then at Cliven. "We don't have your name yet." He said still looking at Cliven.

"Oh I am so sorry! I was so happy to find two warriors here that I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Duchess Prania of Danish or rather, was. Prania Fellnord is all that I am now."

"Very well Prania." Davien said, now looking at her. "I think you found someone willing to help. Cliven was heading to Danish anyway and I was just roaming around getting bored, so a little adventure will only do me good."

“If you are considering this an adventure, please consider also that if it goes wrong, a seven-year old girl will be murdered, sacrificed to a soul devouring demon, and I will probably suffer a similar fate later. It may be an adventure to you, but it’s my life and that of my daughter that are now resting on your hands." Cliven assumed a righteous position on his chair and intervened:

            "Fear not lady Fellnord, we are not taking this lightly or we would not take it at all. We will do everything that is within our power to do, to release your daughter from her own father and to free you of your assassins. Maybe we might even be able to restore sanity to your husband's mind and heart." He smiled with his goodness-filled smile; she looked somewhat sick and annoyed for a moment and then suddenly looked at Davien.

"Very well," she said, "let's depart as soon as we can, because any moment wasted might cost the life of my child." And so they did. The day was in fact sunny but the road was still muddy.

"You may ride on Parteikos" Cliven said to Lady Prania, patting his horse's head as he released it, "your clothing is not fit for walking on such terrain." The horse touched his shoulder affectionately and he smiled.

"Thank you Cliven, you are much too kind." The lady answered with a seductive smile and approached her mount. Parteikos took a few steps back away from her, keeping the distance.

"Be fine boy, you can trust her. She shall ride with us for some time so please show some understanding." The horse looked at him with an almost human look, as if pondering its master's words. After a short moment he drew near Lady Prania and, for her surprise, kneeled down before her. She smiled and sat sideways on its back, for her dress was long and not fit for riding. Davien smiled mockingly inside, picturing the spectacle of this grand lady falling from her mount and landing on a slimy pool of mud with her face. They parted with Cliven's promise that his horse would provide her with a

nice and dry ride.

***

The sun shone during the next two days, drying up the land and bringing out a spontaneous outburst of vegetation. They were still enjoying a peaceful time, riding through the pine forest Davien had glimpsed from the Hunchback Hills. Lady Prania Fellnord told them the forest was named The Silver Thread Woods and explained, that the name made reference to the large river which collected the water coming down from the hills. The river, as she said, shone like silver on sunny days, with such intensity that sometimes it seemed almost unnatural.

"And we shall witness it, because following the river is the best and the fastest way to Danish. The city is parted in two by the river, for it was raised on its estuary when it was still nothing but a little stream" added Cliven.

And soon they reached the Silver Thread. It was a very large river with grassy margins sprinkled by tiny purple and white flowers. The sun was high and revealed all of the river's famous beauty. It indeed looked like the shiny surface of a mirror made of polished silver. Its current was very slow with only a rare few waves disturbing the flatness of its water. The outcome of this was a wonder that looked less like a river and much more like a continuous flow of white light in liquid form. It made them feel like they were stepping suddenly into a completely different world. The line of trees on either margin shimmered with its light, giving the impression that they had formed a wavy veil of various shades of green draping the boundaries of some mythical forest. Only now and then its perfectly mundane inhabitants of the Silver Thread Woods broke through it in search for the water's blessings. On the river's right shore, opposite to that where the three travellers now stood, a small pack of antelopes with a small offspring, no more than a week old, stood drinking from the silvery fluid. Another two could be seen nearby, lying down on the green grass, their ears listening for any sign that might hint the approach of danger.  

Salmons jumped on the river looking like quick sparkles of shiny light as they caught the sunrays and the water's light on their scales, flying in a short arc before fading back into the silver bed with a distant sound of a splash. On the traveller's shore, no more than a giant’s leap away up the river, was the doom of some of the poor fishes. A large and lazy looking brown bear slowly and patiently pawed at the lower waters that reached his belly. Now and then he stood upright on his back legs celebrating yet another tasteful catch of pink fish meat.

            "Wondrous." Davien said in a hushed voice, as if afraid to disturb the calm of the setting, but still, breaking the silence that had settled between the three of them, as they came out of the green tree veil of the left margin and observed what stood beyond it. At the centre of the river bed they noticed a gathering of pine wood around three granite stones outcropping from the waters. Amidst it stood a small beaver, almost invisible amidst the glare of the river's shine; looking at Davien she suddenly got scared and dived down into the waters. "It looks like I scared the little fellow." He said smiling.

            "What fellow?" Asked Cliven puzzled.

"It's just a small beaver. Doing its job by those rocks in the middle"

"I hadn't noticed it. I can't make out anything of the river's surface; its glow blinds my sight." Added Cliven with eyes half closed as he tried to see the rocks Davien had pointed out.

"Truly magnificent is the elven sight." Said Lady Prania with a broad smile and a look lost over the antelopes.

"Well thank you!" Davien laughed. "But you know, there are many more qualities to an elf than his sight!" He laughed again, now with a somewhat naughty smile. Cliven shook his head and looked at him with an astonished look on his face.  

"Are you sure you aren't a human farmer in an elf's body?" Cliven asked sarcastically. "Such noble statement is for sure what one would expect from such a person." he added now changing to irony.

"Very funny, very funny, shall I say…Sir Cliven? For a "Sir" would certainly fit such righteous and correct reaction. I am sorry if I offended your…knightly sentiments." Davien replied with a mocking frown.

"Let's just head downstream before this woman's child is lost" Cliven concluded with growing tone of red in his face.  

"Yes, we better make haste." Said Lady Prania as she smiled foxily.   

***

The river shore presented itself as a refreshing path all the way down to the lands surrounding the city. Soon the forest had ended at a small cliff of sandstone, the trees suddenly ceased. The river went on in a series of many small waterfalls down into a huge flat of green land more than one hundred feet bellow. As they neared the edge of the first waterfall, no more than ten feet high, the horizon of the planes bellow revealed itself. They were vast and extended sideways to such extent that the line of the horizon curved to the left and to the right, giving the false impression that they now stood at the rooftop of the world. They felt as if looking at the infinite, the sensation was vertiginous. The sun shone bellow brightening the green of the huge flat lands and showing an occasional rolling hill. The land before their eyes seemed serene and a very strange peace lingered in the air. The river could be seen bellow as the wavy neck of a large silver dragon making its way to a sea that could hardly be seen. A few clouds of a white that seemed amazingly brighter than any other summer clouds they had ever seen, painted the blue sky with refreshing dots. Scattered through the lands tiny dark shapes were revealed by the lowering sun, they seemed to be the cattle from the many farms which could be seen along the river. Some of these had trenches to capture the river's water into what seemed to be watermills.

Straight ahead and far away the horizon shone almost magically, the ocean was in sight, four or five days of travel on foot as Davien calculated and Cliven confirmed. But the ocean line was cut in the place where the dragon's head of the Silver Void should be, at the place where the river finally met the sea. At that distance the river was but a thin strand of white hair waving in the green of the lands around it. Some kind of construction could be seen there at the estuary. Probably the city of Danish thought Davien but, at this distance, it seemed to be a single castle, with an extraordinary high tower in its middle and several smaller ones surrounding it. At its top something called the attention of his elven sight: something shone faintly with red light, like a ruby rhythmically reflecting the light of the sun on the top of the city's highest tower. Every time it did the green of all the lands he could see changed very slightly in tonality. This change was so subtle that he had hardly noticed it and, as he thought, certainly the others could not see it, neither the change in tone nor the light that seemed to be its source. He kept silent about this, soon they would see it and there was no point in making any comment now.   

"That is Danish in the distance, now nothing but a dark spot at the end of the river." said Cliven. "But soon you shall se that it is a grand city, maybe one of the largest there is."

"Yes," added Prania enthusiastically "and one of the more beautiful also."

"A marvellous place to be" Cliven agreed. "Is your house inside the city?"

"No, my husband lives in one of the coastal manors between the two lighthouses of the bay."

Davien looked again at the city, his curiosity kept growing. Even his elven sight was unable to distinguish more than the gathering of towers which he had already seen in the silhouette of Danish. But, straining his vision to the limit he saw that the bright ocean line became thinner to the left and to the right of the city. To each side, just before the ocean line turned into nothing more than a very thin strand of reflected sunlight in the horizon, a shape thin as a needle could be seen pointing upwards at the blue sky.

"The two lighthouses", Davien thought in whispered words. "That must mean that the thickening of the ocean line between them must be the bay."  

"I cannot see it at this distance" said Lady Prania standing on tip toe at the edge of the cliff. "But your description is right, that must be the bay I was talking about. Our destination lies near the northern lighthouse." 

Meanwhile Cliven had strolled away approaching the curtain of forest to their left.

"There is a path here with roughly the same inclination as the stair formed by the waterfalls" he said loudly as to be heard above the sound of falling water.

"Can we go through it?" asked Lady Prania.

            "Well, if they can climb the waterfalls we shall certainly have less trouble going down the path that borders them!" Saying this Cliven pointed at a spot of the falls just a few feet bellow them. Jumping laboriously upstream from waterfall to waterfall were entire schools of salmons which seemed, with colossal effort, to be trying to reach the top of the cliff. The salmon females jumped like aquatic dragons forming tiny rainbows of sunlight reflected on the millions of invisible water drops hovering near the cascading water. They tried anxiously to reach the younger waters of the long river, to end a journey of weeks by laying their eggs and finally, dying.

And so down the path went the three travellers. It had been carved by men on the sandstone rock. Its steps were now rounded by erosion and a wavy pattern of rock, with small trails open by the rain, was all that was left from what once had been steps. The descent was long and tricky as the path went down along with the river. Parteikos seemed surprisingly agile, but Lady Prania had no choice but to dismount it while they didn't reach a more regular terrain.

After three hours they reached the flat ground bellow. They stood now on the shores of a small but apparently deep lake. It collected the water coming from the falls and then opened to send it to the river that continued its way through the plains, with a current that couldn't outrun a walking man.

"The rolling fields Ruddenorf" said Cliven looking back at Davien who was helping Lady Prania to mount back on Parteikos with a very satisfied look on his face. "It has been a month since I last passed by these lands. We shall have no trouble now, for the main road to Danish which runs around the Silver Thread Woods is just an hour's walk away."   

Cliven was right and in little more than an hour they reached a well cared road, paved with limestone slabs and gravel. They made their way along it passing numerous cattle farms, the lands offered great pasture and the locals seemed to make good use of it by raising cows and sheep.  

“The food of Danish is excellent" said Lady Prania. "If I manage to regain control of the manor I shall let you taste the cheesed beef of Danish. We are lucky to be blessed with gifts from both land and sea."

"By what I have seen from up there on top of the cliff" intervened Davien, "this land seems blessed in itself. I felt a strange calm when I contemplated it from there, it seems there is more to the blessings of sea and earth that you talked about than what is provided by nature. There is something about this land, I am not sure what, but I feel it in the air and every time my feet touch the ground, something holy."

"Danish has a reputation for having the best products in almost every sense" added Cliven. "I am talking not only of natural resources but of its people also and all that is produced by them. It must be indeed a blessed land. From where I come this city is not called Danish, we call it The Garden City of The Angels."

"Really?" Prania asked, visibly surprised. "What an honour, I had no idea our city was held in such a high consideration in such distant lands. But we are no angels" she laughed "and being unable to fly we must make haste with our legs for we still have some days of travel ahead."

They continued their journey until nightfall. The sun dived into the ocean behind the towers of Danish. With the night came a new revelation. Standing on the top of the highest tower was what seemed to be a large glassy sphere, it looked like a gargantuan ruby and every few seconds it shone brightly with inner light like a red star. The fiery orange light was so intense inside the gem that it seemed the setting sun had been captured inside. It shone in pulses, and with each new one its light brightened all the lands around Danish to the range of Davien's sight. Spaced by the time of three breaths the gem flared with a new surge of radiance, transforming the night sky into an abode of fire that shunned all darkness for countless miles around the city.     

They left the road climbing a low mound of green pasture its colour, now indistinguishable under the starlight, grew brighter every time the tower sent forth its light.

            “So, what is that?” asked Davien. “Another lighthouse?”

“It has served that purpose since times beyond memory, but its real purpose remains unknown.” Answered Lady Prania “It came to be known as the Evran Tanteikoren, for those are the words that have been etched on the tower’s wall by whoever built it. Although its origins are unknown, it is certainly much older than Danish, for the city was raised around the shining tower and always grew with it as its core.  The Silver Void divides itself in dozens of tiny streams before reaching the sea. The banks between these have for long been controlled by he city’ people; some have been turned into little garden islands and others were replaced by towers. These towers were then connected high above the ground level by stone bridges and plazas. Today, the whole city stands at least two hundred feet above the ground. Everything has been built on a huge base of stone made of what once was a web formed by the first high bridges, built ages ago and supported by dozens of massive stone towers which today are nothing more than pillars.” She paused for a short moment to contemplate the horizon, now a thin line separating the dark land from the purple glow of the low sky, which hinted the far presence of an ever more distant sun. They shared the vision and the gentle breeze blowing through the fields ruled over the silence. They walked until the last light died away. Cliven followed the sounds of footsteps on the grass as he kept on, for the starlight was too dim to allow him a clear view of the way. The city’s strange pulsing light did not help, although it lighted the surrounding lands with a shine like daylight, it also prevented his eyes from adapting to the darkness between the pulses. Davien seemed all the more disturbed by this; every flash of brightness seemed to actually hurt him. Elven sight allowed elves to see what is shrouded in the night’s darkness, but the strong lights gained immense intensity to eyes which were now sensitive to even the faintest shred of light. Cliven’s eyes stopped over Prania’s shadow, she not only seemed perfectly comfortable in the near total darkness but she was also leading the way with conviction. Did she really know these lands so well that light had become unnecessary?  Cliven decided not to show his blindness and focused to follow his companions.

An hour after the final traces of dusk had faded away Prania theatrically informed them that she was tired and could go no further and so, they stopped. Cliven and Davien provided food for the dinner taking it out of their backpacks. They sat down on the grassy floor at the top of the mound eating their food in silence. Davien looked at the ground to avoid the flashes of light that blinded his night vision as Cliven took advantage of them to try to see some more details of the city, now closer after the last hour of travel.

Danish seemed now to be floating in the air; the ancient bridges formed a saucer that supported the city’s buildings high above the ground. Certainly there should be pillars supporting that huge mass but they were now invisible, shadowed by the city above. A strange light shone in the river banks bellow the city, it seemed to shine whenever the Evran Tanteikoren lighted the lands around but its light was much softer, just a strange radiance of indigo blue reflected in the city’s base and making it glow faintly.

            “I should say that Danish seems to grow in beauty as the distance shortens. There is an eerie brightness coming from the river as it runs bellow the city, is it something with which you are familiar Lady Prania?” Prania looked at Cliven in the darkness; another flash of light showed that her eyes studied his face in the darkness and then her answer came.

            “As I have told you, many of the river banks support the numerous towers which hold Danish but, the ones which were unfitted for such constructions were turned into gardens. As happens with all that is made on these lands, the gardens became a den of peace and beauty. The light you see comes from them, The Stardust Banks. At night they become alive with unaccountable gatherings of fireflies. No one has ever been able to see more than the flying lights; no one was ever able to catch the being that produces it. As the ages passed and the gardens remained, rumours and gossip weaved something like a legend to explain the wondering lights. The town’s folk came to think of it as the dust of ancient stars fallen long ago, revived by the city’s strange magic.  Others think that every light is a soul of a deceased being who came to love the city during his living days, unwilling to part forever from its beauty they choose to linger on those peaceful gardens for the rest of eternity. All are but legends and folk’s tales, in truth no one really knows what those lights are. They seem to react to the Evran’s light, every time it shines they also shine brighter making the old bridges glow as they reflect the light from bellow.

            “Very interesting” said Davien, “I would definitely like to see such a place. Somehow, its description sounds familiar.”

            “Familiar?” Prania inquired with curiosity.

            “A very dear friend of mine used to tell me a story of how, in times long forgotten, a creature of infinite goodness was imprisoned in the centre of an insignificant world to maintain equilibrium amongst the Greek gods.”

            “How awkward; that, sounds familiar to me now” said Cliven suddenly in a strange and surprised tone. Maybe you would like to share that story with us over dinner. It would certainly spice the taste of this meat pie and sweeten our dry fruits. A pleasant story would be more than enough to compensate the lack of a fire to warm our hearts. We must go through the night without building a campfire; it will be wiser if we do not show ourselves with killers on Lady Prania’s track. I’ve been on the lookout for pursuers but we’ve been travelling truly alone since we left the inn. We will next enter one of the main roads and, our distance to your husband’s house grows dangerously short. We should move more carefully from now on.” Davien nodded in consent but seemed not to take on the subject. He felt rather prone to enjoy the pleasant evening.

            “Very well, I will sing to you the story of the exiled proxy after my hunger is satisfied.”

Their camp was set, no more than two blankets lain on the grassy ground of the mound. Cliven offered his to Prania and chose to sleep leaning against his horse. The animal made an effort to sleep lying down providing warmth for his master. Davien studied them for a short moment, there seemed to be some kind of bond between horse and horseman, a bond of understanding and above all, of trust. Cliven had never uttered an order to his mount unless he wanted it to be heard, Parteikos knew his master’s will and obeyed as if it were his own. They stood now ready to sleep, Cliven seated on the ground with his back leaning against his mount. The flare of the Evran Tanteikoren lighted the land in fire casting the shadows of the travellers and revealing the empty pastures around the small mound where the three had chosen to rest. At the distance the Silver Void shone like a stream of molten lava every time the Evran’s light pulsed and then, it became invisible again undistinguishable against the dark land. Silence grew deeper between them. Far to the east distant echoes of voices could be heard, all that could be heard of a city which lived by night as it did by day. Prania lingered with her eyes closed, listening to the distant sound of ship captains shouting docking orders to their sailors. The others heard nothing but the murmur of distant life. From the south came the tickling of water flowing slowly on the Silver Void a soft refreshing breeze came from the same direction.

Davien looked at his two companions. Prania had been quite relaxed since they started their journey together. Cliven sometimes looked strange, almost weary and troubled. Their breath became softer and relaxed; all seemed to stop in the empty moment between vigil and sleep. Slowly, the silence broke. The wind blew slightly stronger, colder, and slowly it’s howling took the form of unintelligible whispers. The sound caressed them as it grew louder; Prania and Cliven opened their eyes. The wind seemed to be singing. It was a sound balanced with every other sound of nature surrounding them. The sound became a voice, ominous and coming from every direction, growing louder…It was approaching it was nearing, faster and faster from all directions until, suddenly, it focused on a single source. Davien’s lips moved as he chanted, the flawless singing of Aëndor flowing gently through them. Elven song from a kind never before heard in this realm, elven song from the groves beyond the void. It was melody of such beauty as those sung by the fairest gods. But naïf was the elf that sung it, young and but a fledgling. Did Davien know that such singing was the key to a long forgotten secret? And fate should want it, that they were but scarce miles from its lock.