R. Salvatore - Echoes of the Fourth Magic

“I think you blew it,” Billy whispered to Del.

Del cleared his throat and responded meekly to the suddenly imposing Illuman.

“An… elf.”

Again the mountainside hissed with whispers.

“By what right do you dare utter that word?” the Illuman demanded, his voice ringing both anger and confusion.

Martin Reinheiser quickly cut in. “It is what we would call you in our land,” he explained. “Certainly no offense was intended; the word was not meant as an insult.”

“And what land is your land?” the Illuman asked a bit less sharply. “Talons you are not, luckily, for if you showed but a trace of that cursed breed, an arrow would have cut you down where you stand. Yet you do not appear as Calvans. What manner of being are you?”

“We are men,” Reinheiser replied. “Men across the boundaries of time.” He put great weight on the word “time,” studying the Illuman for a reaction, gambling that these people were familiar with the same folklore that had guided the rangers’ actions toward his party. From the amazed expression staring back at him, Reinheiser knew that his guess had been correct.

“Yes,” he continued in a breathless rasp of importance, deciding to put things bluntly to fully gauge the Illuman’s reaction. “We are men from another world, an older world. The ancient ones have returned!”

“Bey-ane cairnliss Colonnae!” the Illuman cried in the enchantish tongue of wizards. His trembling hands could not hold the swords as he ran stumbling to shelter up the path. This time the tumult of whispers sounded more like gasps, and Del imagined dozens of arrows being notched to bows trained on the four of them.

But the noises died away and soon the Illuman reappeared, accompanied by a beautiful elven maiden. She had the same stature and skin tone as the other and was likewise clad, but her hair was as dark as his was light. Not empty as the darkness of a void was the black of her lengthy locks, but rather a shimmering hue, as if every other color had blended there in overabundance. And from beneath the raven’s coat of her hair, her bright blue eyes peeped in startling contrast.

The two approached the men cautiously, obviously as unnerved as their counterparts.

“I am Erinel,” said the first, “and this is-”

“I am Sylvia,” interrupted the other, “daughter to Arien Silverleaf, Eldar of Lochsilinilume.”

“Then this is a fortunate meeting,” Mitchell proclaimed with over-friendly abandon.

Sylvia raised an eyebrow at him.

“It is your father we came to see,” Reinheiser quickly explained.

Sylvia backed a step and studied them, thinking the same thoughts Belexus had when he first viewed these otherworldly men. She, too, knew the tales, but she was tentative, for the potential consequences of her decision could prove much more severe. Illuma was a secret refuge hidden from powerful enemies, and Ungden the Usurper would bestow a king’s reward on any man who discovered the whereabouts of the Silver City. In the end, it was Billy Shank’s black skin that convinced Sylvia that these men were not of her world, and she decided to grasp at the faint glimmer of hope that had entered her oppressed heart.

“If you are truly the men spoken of in our legends, my father shall indeed grant you an audience.”

“Then lead on,” Mitchell said, and he took a step up the path.

“Halt!” Erinel commanded, and turned to Sylvia. “I will respect your judgment in this affair. Yet we must also honor the laws of our land. You know as well as I that it is forbidden for any man to gaze upon the paths to the city.”

She conceded with a nod, then explained to the men, “You must be blindfolded.”

“No problem,” Mitchell agreed quickly.

Again Del and Billy exchanged incredulous glances.

As soon as the blindfolds were in place, the men heard the sound of many light footsteps and chattering whispers gather around them. Sylvia gave some instructions and the troupe started off.

Many roots and stones crossed the path, causing the unseeing men to stumble constantly despite the earnest efforts of their captors to guide them carefully and keep them steady. Reinheiser, though, had little difficulty, for he evenly and deliberately spaced all of his steps and he exaggerated all of his turns, making them as close to right angles as possible. The Illumans thought the man crazy, but there was indeed a method to Reinheiser’s madness.

An hour later they stopped climbing and began moving horizontally across the face of the mountain. Suddenly the blindness became blacker and the cool mountain breeze abruptly ceased.

“We’re in a cave,” Reinheiser observed almost as soon as they entered.

“A tunnel,” Erinel corrected. “You will find the ground smoother in here.”

“Please!” Reinheiser cried in sudden terror. “No caves!”

Del cocked his ear in surprise, suspecting that the physicist was up to something. A man of Reinheiser’s disposition would never allow himself such an irrational fear, and the exaggerated tone of the physicist’s despair gave Del the distinct impression that he was lying.

“Could I travel near a wall?” Reinheiser begged. “Something to hold onto.”

Del cringed at the blatant deception but, not understanding the motives behind it, remained silent.

“I do not understand,” Erinel said. “Why-”

“Please!” Reinheiser shrieked, noting the underlying tone of guilt in the voice of his pitifully sympathetic captor. The physicist smiled inwardly, realizing that he could play on these soft hearts as easily as if they were his puppets. “I am afraid of caves!”

“Yes, yes,” Erinel agreed, trying to comfort the frantic man. He took Reinheiser by the hand and led him the few steps to the tunnel wall. “I will stay beside you,” he assured Reinheiser, “but be wary of side passages.”

That is precisely the point, the physicist thought, burying a chuckle. To be wary of side passages! Now he was thankful of the hood that hid his devious grin. Bless these kindly, simple folk, he mused inwardly.

A good while later they exited the twisting maze of tunnels and were greeted by a chilly, late afternoon breeze. Sylvia stopped the party and told the men they could remove their blindfolds. They did so anxiously, and gazed down upon yet another wonder of this strange new world.

They were on the western edge of a valley, and below them, rolled out like a carpet of magical dreams, lay the hidden refuge of Illuma. Del looked on the city of the Silver Realm with sparkle-eyed wonder, for this place was woven of wizards’ spells as surely as was the Emerald Room-and on an even grander scale. Certainly this was no ordinary vale; the slopes leading down to it were barren gray stone and shale, in direct contrast to the color-filled floor, overflowing with life. Blue-green grass waved like a rippling pond in the mountain breeze, and “telvensil” elms, as Sylvia named the silvery trees, swayed gently with every gust, accepting the wind without a creak or groan of protest. Most of the trees here stood taller, limbs spread wider, than the two that formed the archway at Mountaingate, and among those mighty limbs, within the shelter of their white leaves, many houses had been built. These didn’t intrude upon the sovereignty of the telvensils; rather, they seemed to be natural extensions of the tree, as if somehow the tree had helped in their creation.

The homes scattered about on the ground were of stone, worked and shaped with care into elaborate designs that followed no set patterns, yet displayed a congruity of spirit. Glittered with streaks and swirls of flashing silver and bursts of gemstones, and thick with windows, these joyous abodes seemed more a creation of love than a product of work.