Chapter 618: An Elf’s Tale, Part 2
Where were they going? And why?
It was a pair of questions that continued to hound for her attention since they first left the manor grounds in a hurry. The words seeped into her thoughts often enough that it was to the point of being obnoxious.
Here she was, hurtling across a sea of snow on a horse, with falling flakes clinging to her hair, the rush of wind breathing a new life, a new air that felt so cold, so liberating-her second taste of freedom after so long kept confined behind sealed doors, wandering seemingly endlessly the empty, oppressive halls of stone and marble.
And yet the questions still remained.
Eshwlyn closely followed the silver-white steed, the manic flutter of a sumptuous traveling cloak blowing wild with the breeze in front of her, noticing the path ahead of them growing only narrower and denser with shriveled trees looming at them closer.
Not the township, then-she thought silently to herself; her guesses on their true destination only growing murkier as they strode ever deeper into the unknown.
She did not know how long or far they rode for, it might have been for no longer than an hour or it might have been several-any sense of time was simply whisked away by the blizzarding storm, which too was gradually wearing on her already diminishing endurance.
.....
But eventually, the snowfall had begun a steady wane, and dawn was breaking in a gradually clearing horizon, flourishing shimmering rays of gold that illuminated a bleak, wintry morning sky.
Then, another shimmer. And then, even more shimmers. Eshwlyn blinked-and it was as if the endless white coating the land itself had turned to stars sparkling in the night sky.
And just up ahead, the entire vista was blossoming with even more of the same lustrous glow, almost like the glint of gold, the gleam of silver... sharply protruding out of the thick snow like reeds beside a stream. They galloped on, and that was when Eshwlyn felt the clunk of something hard and solid from beneath her mount that surely couldn’t be the snow.
“It seems the storm had buried most of them under,” sighed an audibly disgruntled Wilvur from up ahead. “To continue further on horses would only be an unnecessary cruelty, especially in such precarious conditions, such hazards-yes, Eshwlyn-we’ll dismount here. Hitch the horses to that tree there. Our destination It’s just up ahead, anyhow.”
The moment Eshwlyn laid and submerged her feet deep in the snow, she could feel it again, only now more well-defined. She led the horses, and fastened their reins to a low-hanging branch, all the while feeling the hardness of glass instead of the frozen soil.
It was only through countless hours of studies that the answer came to her almost instantaneously. The blinding shines and shimmers in the distance, the dazzling protrusion rising from the earth...
“Are we venturing into a crystalline province, Master?”
“Once again, you continue to astound me with your diligence,” Wilvur beamed back in approval, and at that exact moment, one of the crystalline reeds extending out from the snow mirrored a hundred of his smiles in its gleaming blue exterior. “But to be more precise, it is more of a humble village we would be visiting than a vast province. A century ago, a certain ambitious fellow had built a settlement around this once empty plain, turning it into a prosperous trading hub for all sorts of individuals. The locals are mostly miners, profiting from the diverse array of crystals that sprout around here. Why, I believe the local Academy buys in large bulks almost annually, what with their students always overestimating their resilience... it’s no surprise, really.”
Eshwlyn gaze ahead again, and closer now, she could see the tiled roofs of buildings, and the empty spaces between that formed its open streets and narrow alleys, and true to its foundations, it was the glinting, gleaming stalks of crystals sprouting in all shape, size, and color that dominated the entire village.
They clung like swirling vines onto the walls of buildings, or like tiny patches of moss glittering in sporadic clumps, everywhere she turned her eyes, crystals pierced through ceilings, clamber out of open windows, and even filled the barren expanse of gardens.
But something was amiss, and with the persisting blowing silence, it was only growing all the more glaring.
“Master,” Eshwlyn peered ahead once more, scouring the streets, and the many buildings, finding only the glint of the crystal populous shimmering back at her. “Where are the village inhabitants?”
“Dead,” Wilvur answered, a grim shadow falling over his scarlet eyes. “In the case of survivors, hopefully still very much in hiding. Though I doubt anyone would be able to remain hidden for long.”
This information did not disturb her, in fact, Eshwlyn had to exert restraint to not echo the delight in her voice as she asked, “And what of their bodies? I do not see-”
“Oh, I’m certain if you’re willing to dig, you’ll find plenty around here somewhere,” He said, spinning in place around the vast white expanse. “Maybe some buried in that mound there, or that pile over there... the storm truly had made the prospect of recovery difficult... I only hope their ends were swift and painless. It is all I wish for them.”
Inside, Eshwlyn deeply wished otherwise.
“Stop here for a moment,” Wilvur commanded, halting them both a fair distance from the village entrance. “Let me now enlighten you to my-or should I say-our current predicament. Well, to be quite blunt with you, we are in sort of an impasse here.”
Eshwlyn silently nodded, doing her utmost to keep her knees from buckling.
“As you can see the village was attacked, ransacked...” Wilvur glanced back at the empty settlement, his eyes scouring across the haunting visage of broken doors hanging onto loose hinges, the whistling wind fluttering the drapes of shattered windows, a myriad of tools lying deep in the snow, and chunks of large crystalline shafts left only partway excavated, halfway-finished, and now never will be. “...and the hard-working citizens were slain in cold blood, and they did not stand a chance.”
“Were there no guards present in the attack, Master?” She asked. “Is it not customary to station troops in even the smallest of settlements?”
“We are standing upon a lucrative piece of land here, Eshwlyn. Rest assured, they were very well-equipped for any outside threats,” He said, flashing an amused smile that faded as quickly as it formed. “But, I ask you, what use is any form of deterrence if the danger had instead come from within?”
At this, even Eshwlyn furrowed her brows. “The guards... attacked?”
“Not the guards, just a Knight... an Elf-Knight,” He said, and Eshwlyn saw her own surprise expression reflecting back at her in the solemnity of his gaze. “This village, I... I’ve bequeathed them this Knight in hopes to deter any would-be pillagers... they even paid quite the hefty sum for her. To keep things as brief as I can, this Knight, she... she was moved here, the village chief becoming her Master, and placed under sacred oath to guard forever this land and its inhabitants... and so long as someone under her protection still lives and breathes... she may never leave this place... she would be confined here for the rest of her life.”
Eshwlyn’s stomach churned at the thought. It was with great effort that she managed to hide the disdain and resentment that was bubbling inside of her. She held her tongue and allowed him to simply continue on without interruption.
“This is all simply an unfortunate result of negligence, you see. A few months ago, the village chief sadly passed away-an unfortunate accident, I hear- and also, unfortunately, leaving this Knight without a Master to serve. Now usually should a Master pass before the Servant, the claim of ownership would automatically fall upon the next of kin. But as he did not bore any children, the Knight had no other Master to keep her bound to her oath, and slowly... the effects of the conversion began to wane, and gradually the Knight was reverting back to her true nature as an Elf... only now possessing the strength and capabilities of a full-fledged Knight. A most dangerous outcome... and its consequences... you see before you now.”
They both looked again at the grisly scene before them, a haunting view of silence, of barrenness... of lifelessness.
“Ignorance, complacence....” Wilvur looked bitter, a strained expression that she had never seen on his pale face before. “Had they just not assumed the Elf-Knight would forever protect them, had they only listened when I explained... they appointed a new village chief... I surmise they believe that was all the necessities required to keep the Elf bound. As I said, ignorance, complacence... mistakes paid in blood.”
“And what of the Elf, Master?” Eshwlyn asked, briefly darting away at their surroundings. “Surely she has already fled the vicinity-I see no reason for her to linger here any longer.”
“No, no, she’s still here...” He quietly replied, unable to tear his gaze away from the empty village. “In a house, in a church, a barmaid’s basement perhaps, or residing in the cramped attic of a merchant’s abode, in any case... Remelda still yet haunts these grounds.”
“And you know this... how, Master?”
“That’s simple enough...” Abruptly, sullenly, Wilvur broke away, spurring forward into the village, his imposing stature reflecting a millionfold in the hundreds of gleaming crystal surfaces shimmering across the vicinity. “Because I am still alive.”
And that’s when it all became crystal clear-Where were they going? And why?-before, all she had were fractured bits of answers, but now they were formed, now those answers were whole, and now she knew the reason why he insisted on having her follow along.
To kill another of her kind.
The thought, the prospect of it... it disturbed her.
“Do you intend for me to kill her?” Eshwlyn asked, quickly drawing up to his side. “For her crimes, for killing these people, should we find her... is that precisely why you’ve brought me along?”
But much to her surprise, her utter befuddlement, Wilvur slowly shook his head at her assumptions.
“Enough blood has been shed already,” He said, his weary sigh visible with the breeze. “And she is blameless in all this. It is in her nature to kill, it is intrinsic in every Elf. The villagers knew this and yet they did think this important enough to keep aware? No. No, for once, the fault lies with us humans.”
It was not the answer she was expecting, it was not the usual apathy she had grown accustomed to hearing from him. Perhaps he was lying, deceiving... he had to be.
“I only wish to meet with her, convince her to return to the encampment,” Wilvur continued on. “She is a valuable Knight, in the right hands, a priceless asset. At the very least, this way, should she comply... she does not have to die.”
Yet the sincerity in his voice was too overpowering to ignore.
“And my... purpose?” She asked slowly. “If it’s not to kill, then... if that is all you mean to do, talk, if that is all you intend, then for what reason do you have me accompanying you?”
“That’s simple enough, is it not?” He said brightly, confidently, a ghost of a smile curling the side of his lip. “You’re here to protect the life of your Master.”
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