The Evening Tide Page 4

  “Why do you leave the glade so late, friend?” he asked.

  “Family,” I croaked, attempting to give depth and volume to my voice, wanting to conceal its usual high-pitched softness.

  I had failed.

  The elf in an instant smacked the hem of my hood over my head. Revealed in the moonlight for what it was, my face sent both elves gasping.

  “An elvess!” one said, his voice trembling.

  The elf quickly grabbed me whilst the other took his hands to my face to muffle the scream I tried to emit.

  It was as if the elves could coordinate mentally, for they were both leading me off the road without having to wonder aloud to each other where the best place to take me would be. As I struggled and kicked, I heard the calmness of the river flowing behind me and knew that I was headed to its banks. By this point, hopeless tears were already falling from my terror-stricken face.

  “We need to be quick,” the other said. “Wind Glade is right up there.”

  Eager and frantic, the elf who had grabbed me first, replied with quick trepidation in his voice, making him sound edgy and highly strung, like one who had just stolen treasure from someone’s home and was on the run, carried by his desperation not to be caught while at the same time gloating over what profit he had made for himself.

  “It is late, elves are sleeping and she travels alone. Take her over there, closer to the current.”

  And so, to the river banks was where I was dragged as I had guessed, and when I was thrown down upon the ground, the violence of it took the breath out of me.

  By now I was shaking uncontrollably with the reality of my situation. Before I could let out a scream loud enough for someone in Wind Glade to hear me, the elf who had originally covered my mouth leaped for me and held my face roughly against the damp and stony floor whilst my hands and feet flapped and writhed helplessly.

  My assailant removed one of his hands from my mouth to secure my right arm under his knee. Accomplishing this, he then reached over with that same hand and held my left arm firmly against the ground.

  I couldn’t see what the other elf was doing with my head held tightly against the floor. All I could see was the chin of the elf who kept his grip upon me. He smelt of dirt and sweat, like he hadn’t washed in days. His jawline was marked by stubble and he appeared as old as Papa. The nausea building inside me was emphatic.

  “Hurry up!” complained the elf to his companion who still had me oblivious to what he was doing, until… Suddenly I felt him hold my legs in place by the ankles. The elf’s hands travelled up my legs beneath the tattered dress that I wore beneath my mother’s coat and the coldness of his hands upon my skin inspired a great and intense panic to take hold of me.

  Though my struggle at this point was frantic, I was not strong enough to overcome them. As those cold and coarse hands rose higher past my knees, pushing both my mother’s and Papa’s coats further up my waist, I could feel the tip of the elf’s primary member poke my inner thigh. Then I realised to my horror that while his companion had secured me to the ground, this elf had been removing his trousers.

  The elf who now bore down over me, was breathing hard in anticipation of what he was building up to do as he positioned himself accordingly, and when I felt his member make contact with the parallel walls of my secret place, my eyes shut tightly in desperation at what was about to happen to me. But just before it did, just before he could break through, I felt the elf’s presence was suddenly removed from me. In that same moment, the elf who held me down emitted a cry of confusion and protest and he too released me.

  I opened my eyes and heard a distorted cry, like one who was in pain. When I looked up, I saw two more elves had just arrived on the scene. Both were hooded and of similar height.

  The elf who had been moments from mounting me was on his knees with his head pulled back by one of the hooded elves, and suddenly I became aware of the point of a great gleaming blade sticking out from the vermin’s chest. His expression remained twisted from the pain such a wound had caused him.

  The other hooded elf, who stood behind the one with the blade, had his hand reaching out towards the elf who had held me down to the ground. That elf was on his knees too. His back was arched and he was clutching his own throat as if trying to strangle himself.

  The elf who had tried to penetrate me fell face first on the ground when the hooded one drew back his blade. When that same hooded elf approached me, I screamed and recoiled, scrambling in the damp floor to get away from him.

  The elf sheathed his blade beneath his cloak and when he reached me, his voice was commanding when ordering me to be still. He then pushed back his hood and it was as if the sun had risen above the horizon. All darkness seemed to flee as I gazed into the pale and enchanting eyes of Asharal.

  “You’re safe, Sweet Dawn,” he said.

  Before I could say or do anything, he moved forward quickly and in moments I was whisked up into his arms like a child, where he continued to reassure me.

  “Be still, Dawn. You’re safe. You’re safe.” His voice, though strong and precise was now also soft and filled with solicitude, but when he looked over his shoulder, that voice became hard again.

  “Deal with him, brother,” he ordered and without a word in response, the other hooded elf did as Asharal commanded. It was only when nearing the Wind Glade, still safe and warm in Asharal’s arms, that I heard behind me, down below by the river banks, the horrific screams of excruciating pain.

  Chapter 4

  I did not look back during my flight; not even to see if I was being chased. All I could think of now was reaching my private chambers, wondering if my lady had made it there, wondering if she was safe.

  I crossed many rooms and chambers until I eventually reached a hall, and then the throne room. How dull and vacant it is, were my thoughts. How colourless… how lifeless. This hall, which drew crowds with their petitions and their favours, invoked power: the power of my family the Winds, the power of the Father of the Sun!

  After this night, I wondered if this hall would ever do so again.

  When I entered the upper courtyard, I saw, to my horror, the amount of dead bodies that were lying strewn across the floor, looking distorted, stuck in their final poses of death. As I passed them, I saw who they all were, and who they belonged to.

  They belonged to my family, were the Tower Guard, Wind Tower’s private defence. They had all been slaughtered; their limbs severed, their blood flowing, their gaping mouths dry, already attracting flies and so in that moment, I was struck by a particular memory.

  It was upon the shores of the western sea, close to Wind Tower where I stood beneath the looming shadow of Wind Rock. I had been standing with my father and my little brother, the three of us hunched against the howling and pestering wind. We analysed the dead that lay across the beach, just as the bodies of the Tower Guard lay across the stone of the courtyard.

  “I find the sight repulsive,” my father commented, in a voice that so often made it clear he was talking to himself. But then he had looked at both of us with that twisted expression that marked his displeasure, and said, “Look and see why it is good to belong to the Sun.” He had faced forward, gesturing with an open hand towards the dead.

  They were, as my father had dubbed them, “the blue elves”, for their skin had a bluish-grey complexion. They wore little clothing, even when entering battle, which they had done against my father’s warriors, who had been clad in thick leather. They were tall, these blue elves. Freakishly tall. Their ears were like ours, pointed, yet much longer. Their faces were all narrow, their hair black like sin, their eyes green and unintelligent.

  The blue elves had that day sought to invade our island. The Father had invaded their islands and so he supposed they meant to pay him back in kind – except they were primitive, their invasion lasting no more than a couple of hours, the battle on the shoreline nothing more than a futile skirmish. The fact that such a primitive race had dared take such a leap,
I would say was courageous, but my father, the Father of the Sun had disagreed.

  “I would name them fools. Proof of how dense such a people are.”

  They had landed upon our shore and our warriors had been waiting. It hadn’t taken long. All the blue elves had been killed. I had borne witness to the entire thing, as did my brother, the other Son of the Father. He had grinned over the entire affair whilst I watched with doubt, for I had scruples when it came to death.

  On our way back from the battle, heading towards Wind Tower, I had suggested to my father an idea: that we as the Sun Elves should try to communicate with the blue elves to attempt to end the strife and forge an alliance. But my father wouldn’t hear such nonsense, for he reviled such elves.

  “They probably won’t be able to understand us,” my brother had offered, scoffing at my alternative to war.

  “Their tongue being as eloquent as that of a beast,” mocked our father, he and my brother laughing together.

  Presently, my mind ripped back to reality and I forced the words, “None will hear you both laugh again.” Though I had thought such a statement would bring me sadness, the reality was I felt precisely nothing, nothing but the awareness of my own approaching doom.

  I entered through the door of Wind Peak, one of Wind Tower’s loftier towers, for at the top were my private chambers where I had sent my lady and where a vial of immortality awaited, hidden within the afara jar.

  Running down the steps were servants who lived here at Wind Tower, who by now had clearly become aware of the Tower’s tumultuous state, for they were in hysterics and I couldn’t blame them, for I was too. However, I wondered how consuming their fear would be if they knew what I knew, if they had seen what I had seen down below, when coming to the Father of the Sun’s private chambers.

  Once more I was assailed by memory.

  It had happened this same day at dusk, before the people of our island had arrived at Wind Tower. I had been summoned to the Father of the Sun’s quarters. I had walked in as apprehensively as I always did, for of late I had not enjoyed entering that room. That dark room always smelt as if something was burning, that something being flesh. It disturbed me, always forcing my nose to wrinkle.

  “This is your day,” said the voice, deep within the room.

  I had walked towards that voice until I came face to face with the gigantic mirror that took up half the wall.

  On both sides of that mirror hung two torches that offered the only bit of light in the room. Those torches made it possible for my father to look at his revolting reflection, which he had for years made it his habit to do. He claimed that his spells enabled the mirror to show him the world. That was how he had discovered the islands in the west, those that were inhabited by the blue elves. He claimed there was more lands beyond, occupied by elves too, yet my father hadn’t concerned himself with those people just yet.

  “Yes, it is,” I had replied, cursing myself for how low my voice had become. Entering my father’s presence always dried up my throat.

  “Woe to any who would disturb it.”

  I stood silent, for I hadn’t known what to say to that. Perhaps because he had not received a response, my father sighed, suddenly dishing out a command. “Double the watch. I have foreseen trouble this night.”

  I had frowned. “What did you see? What trouble could come this evening? Most of your army, who are not fighting the blue elves, are here to ensure my day is perfect.”

  The Father of the Sun had cackled. Such was his laugh. He coughed amidst his cackle. I was unamused, seeing how mirthless it was.

  “I saw the tide coming in. A new tide. A strong tide. I perceive that this night will be dark for us. So, double the watch.”

  I shrugged off the memory as I continued up the stairs leading towards my private chambers. I had carried out the Father’s orders. I had doubled the guard. I had sent word to Alyran, who commanded the Tower Guard, to stay vigilant, warning her of the Father’s premonition, not realising that she was the key that would allow this new tide’s entrance over our walls.

  “Fool!” I cursed aloud, becoming breathless. I was taking three steps at a time and still I knew that the top was a long way away.

  Alyran had betrayed my family. She had betrayed the Father of the Sun as she betrayed my brother. We were all doomed because of that betrayal, and I couldn’t say if I wanted anyone to die this evening more than she. And yet…. Thinking back on earlier, what I had seen downstairs, what I had come face to face with – the death of the Father, the death of my brother, the Son – I felt ashamed of how I had run like a coward, and began feeling courage return to me. I began to believe that somehow, someway, despite my own feeling of powerlessness, I could avenge them all; that by some sheer chance of luck, I could do what the Father and the Son could not. I could win. I could kill Asharal.

  Chapter 5

  I stormed off and came outside to find a damp floor and a soft drizzle of rain coming down from a grey sky. I followed the white stones that Papa had laid out upon the ground and when I got to the edge of our property, I pouted at the woods, my brow furrowed in a display of irritation.

  I shook my head in disapproval, caught up in reflections over my current dilemma. I wasn’t allowed to leave our home. I wasn’t allowed to visit Papa as he trapped fish in his nets. I wasn’t allowed to accompany him to the markets when it was time to make the journey. In addition, I wasn’t even allowed to go along with Mother when she visited our neighbours further downriver.

  It was all Asharal’s fault.

  As I had come to suspect that night when I had foolishly ventured out alone into the open world to seek out Asharal, he hadn’t been pleased in the slightest to find that I had put myself at risk. He was even less so when he heard my feeble yet truthful reasoning, which was that I had grown impatient in waiting for him to come visit.

  “That won’t do,” he had replied sternly, though in his pale eyes I was sure I had caught a glimpse of something which made me believe that deep down, he had been slightly touched by my foolish sentiment. “What would have happened if I had not been there?” he had asked, his expression hard and formal.

  “It doesn’t matter what would have happened,” I had complained, like a child. “What matters is that you were there.” I had escaped being violated. Asharal had saved me. If I could go back, I would do it all over again.

  Our discussion had taken place that very night, as soon as we had arrived at my hut. “You are a Sun Elf, Dawn. You will, from now on, conduct yourself as such.”

  When drawing himself up in conclusion of the visit, he stood over me like some sophisticated ruler, and I felt like an ant compared to his noble countenance and stature. He had loomed over me, all beauty and disappointment, and I had never felt more ashamed in my entire life.

  Then he turned to share words with my parents, who under the torch glow had appeared less than flattering in their sleeping attire. I was horrified to hear him disclose to them what I had done.

  “What were you thinking?” Mother had asked once Asharal had left, outraged and trembling in fear over the news. “Has Asharal bewitched you so that now you have forsaken all sense? All sound judgement?”

  Mother had been pacing throughout the entire perimeter of our small hut, trying to take control of her rising emotions. As for Papa, I noticed a change in him. He had stood aloof with folded arms, seeming deeply concerned but also in a state of in-depth contemplation that had caused me to wonder. It was only when my mother had demanded an explanation from her wilful daughter, furious and relieved tears rising to the brim of her eyes, that Papa had at last intervened, offering my emotional mother one simple explanation for my actions.

  “She is in love.”

  Mother had swirled around in disbelief while I only gaped. He strode forward, stopping just inches before Mother. His gaze was set upon me as if he had laid eyes on his only child and daughter for the first time.

  “She is in love,” he said again.

  �
��We know that already,” Mother protested. “We have known that for a long time. But still, it is no excuse ---‘’

  Papa had called for silence with a simple raise of his hand. His eyes were still intent and fixed upon me.

  “You’re right, beloved. It is no excuse. But the why has been answered none the less.” Papa had hunched down and taken my hands in his. “So… Asharal saved you?”

  I nodded slowly. “He and his brother.”

  I recognised the conflict in his eyes. His unfathomable loyalty to the Wind family compelled him to maintain certain reservations where Asharal was concerned. Yet I saw too, in light of Asharal’s heroic actions, that now Papa was struggling with a new-found respect for him. He was appreciative and grateful. He was starting to recognise Asharal’s apparent greatness.

  Papa’s thumbs had caressed the tops of my hands. “You are not to act so irrationally again, sweet Pebble,” he had said. “Your mother will decide on the consequences and you will honour them diligently.”

  I nodded. It was easy. Asharal’s rebuke was enough to keep me in check. Papa and Mother’s efforts were pointless. However, five days later, I was struggling. I was bored and filled with heartache and longing. I was confined to our hut where there was no distraction to keep me from pining to see Asharal again. I desired another opportunity to show him my worth and to prove to him that I could be better.

  Before I came outside to gaze at the forest in front of our hut, Mother had returned from downriver to report that there were additional ill tidings concerning the rumours circulating around the great fort of Wind Tower.

  “Trouble is escalating,” she had whispered, whether to me or to herself I hadn’t known for sure, for when uttering those words her gaze had been forlorn and cast to the floor. Yet when I hadn’t responded, she had looked at me as if expecting that I would.