Chương 300: 3.1

Jewel stared at the figure before her. Standing in the middle of the road blocking her way. They were shorter than Alexander by half a head. But with a presence to them just as predatory as Zephyrvam. The sun upon their skin seemed to almost swim in a way that would have made her certain they were some kind of wizard. But no sorcery was in play that she could feel. No whispers to the world at all. Their skin simply dappled and shifted as the sun touched it.

Darkening to bronze and brown as the wind blew the leaves of the canopy overhead. In the shade of the leaves that same skin went pale. The shadows under their chin and the hollow of their throat was even paler. And it carried over down their body, with every scrap of skin visible at least somewhat shifting in the light. Their clothing was a material so thin that even as it hung in robes over much of the body it hardly left a single shred of their shape properly obscured.

They stood barefoot on the dirt road and it was here where they touched the earth that Jewel truly knew what stood before her party. It was obvious in the way the very stone and earth sang, the way the wind ran through their knee length hair. Which just like their skin shifted and darkened under the sunlight. The eyes that turned up to her were pitch black. And the face was youthful with a delighted smile that shined with perfectly pearly teeth. And they smelled of nothing but the woods.

Jewel could not do anything but stop and dip her head. Every story, every book, every folk tale and song in every village had words for the being that had found her here on the road. Elf. Fae. Jewel had even felt their passing from the stones of Kaeketeh. Where the earth yet remembered the bare feet and toes that had touched them. She was the Countess of Viznove, she was friend of Wizards and made Gods act like shy children forced into a spring dance. She was called on by the High King of Cantor Reborn for advice.

But all of that fled from her mind against the sudden realization of what she was seeing. In that moment Gem and Jewel as one felt young and lost for words. For this was an Elf, a thing so rarely seen that they were spoken of in whisper and legend. Wild Wyrms were not exactly common but by the reports she read there were at least twelve more or less manageable ones in the lands of her vassals. Innocuous things which were mostly left to their wilderness. More trouble to remove then they caused.

Gryphons and other Wyrmspawn were even more numerous, the Eyrie's count of the lineages of potential steeds or their parents within the Ridgetails was just shy of a thousand across all the counties. And the scattered lesser wyrm spawn were so intermingled with the usual beasts of the wild as to be uncountable. And of Wizards and Weirds? Jewel had met nearly a dozen of them. And heard word of maybe even hundreds more beyond the Realm or read of their actions through the histories.

One of her best friends was a beast who spoke. And then of course there was high King Mathias and his Menagerie. But not even the High king could claim to have met an Elf. None among the Weirds or Wizards could claim to have seen one even in their considerable lives. Their passing was legend upon myth. Tales told by traders of distant lands. Words upon the providence of goods. Jewel had seen what was claimed to be Elf made silk.

But if what the figure before her was garbed in was the genuine article Jewel could confidently say that every single bolt of the stuff she had ever laid eyes on til now was a laughably bad forgery. This figure was wrapped in fabric that was so thin it was astounding it was not transparent. It clung to skin like wet cloth, yet Jewel could see and feel how it played with the wind. Almost like her own wyrmspun wool it breathed coolness and warmth in equal measure.

A marvel all the more surprising for its near complete lack of any apparent marks of ritual, miracle or any other sorcery. It bore no sign of any kind of sorcery and yet worked better than some Jewel had witnessed. The strange figure continued to stand there before them and Muriel was reaching for her sword. But Before her captain could give insult to a literal myth in the flesh Jewel quickly spoke out in a hushed tone.

Words grasping the most common and hopefully correct things one was meant to say in such auspicious meetings as this. She hoped it would not give offence." Greetings and fair tidings be upon you, oh most elfen and fair one before us. Pray tell why you meet here with us on this road?" Around Jewel her party stiffened and stood straighter, but thankfully every hand fled from sword hilts and belts as if the touch of them burned. The tales had been clear on what drawing iron against the fae would bring.

The smiling figure standing in the road bobbed their head in a sign of respect that from anyone but the high king would absolutely be an insult to Jewel's status as Countess. Then with a voice soft and sweet as the breeze in the trees spoke the most humbly warm and delightful words of Rochford proper lilts. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. They spoke like a girl that had seen to the goats down the road from the Temple where Jewel sometimes basked in the sun.

With all the subtle little hints of home Jewel only ever heard in her father's demesne. Something made all the stranger when spoken in so soft and foreign a voice.

"I've come to see you wyrm of man, To see perhaps for once if the children of Uruk might have learned to make beauty at last." The smile was still soft, the black eyes and delicate brows shifting just so. Jewel tilted her head at that. There were a great many stories about elves. Many of them ended very badly for those unfortunate enough to meet them. But those that did not usually involved politeness and proper etiquette.

"Well, I thank you for your interest in meeting me. I hope I have not kept you waiting long?" The elf looked her up and down, she was not sure precisely what upon her they looked at for the black pitch of their eyes gave no clue. Not even to Jewel's scrutiny.

"Not long at all, only twenty-six winters. But I've kept myself busy studying the words of your tongue. The hunting here is good and the fruits are plenty. Though stunted, ugly and crippled, the woods still give what they can." Twenty Six winters! Had this elf been waiting in these woods for her since she hatched?! And the way it spoke? Again every word was said precisely like a Rochford native and yet again the voice flowed with a foreign beauty. And to describe this quite picturesque woodland in such terms?

Jewel frowned at that, she'd been walking through Viznove for a quarter of the year now and the wilderness along the road to Zapadvah was some of the finest she had seen. The deer were plentiful, the trees tall and strong, If need be there would be excellent lumber to be found if she called for its clearing. She could not say she could even imagine what about the vibrant green woods around them that could be called ugly, stunted or crippled.

Jewel struggled to try and not comment but even without the words leaving her lips the smile fell from the face. The brows lowered, sinking from a gentle joy to a subtle and yet somehow terribly deep sorrow.

"Ah, I forget, You would not have ever seen the earth unscarred, never swam a river that has only ever known freedom nor touched stone unbowed by tortures." The sadness turned to a pained curdling twist of something deeply unsettling as the pitch black gaze swept the woods around them, the trees, the sky, the road. Tears openly welled and then spilled down those soft cheeks. But then the smile returned, the elf not even moving to wipe away the shame of their incontinence from their face.

The shine in their eyes almost seems to make the gentle happiness even sharper somehow, intense, almost fierce. A joy pulled to the fore somehow in spite of any shame they should feel for crying so openly. It made Jewel uncomfortable to see the mark of cowardice on the elf.

"Well, that is not yours or the children's fault. I apologize for the insult." And again Jewel was at a loss. This was not how the stories went about elves. Children or travelers either were polite and given gifts of wondrous sorcery and value or gave insults and their entire family and home were cursed forever. No story had ever mentioned an elf apologizing for giving insult. Jewel could only think of one thing to say.

"No offense was given, I was just confused by your words." The elf nodded at that and simply stood there watching them and their party. Jewel was unsure what to say next. The tears on their cheeks dried as she tried to find the words. Before she could manage it however the elf's brow furrowed.

"Were you not traveling elsewhere?" The question was asked with a soft gentleness, in a tone that Jewel thought reminded her a bit like a parent reminding a child to continue with a story they were telling and had forgotten. For her part Jewel struggled to find the most polite way to respond.

"We would, but we did not want to insult or trespass upon you, fair one, you are standing in the middle of the road." The figure smiled wide at that, brows raising in delight and did another little head bob before stepping to the side of the road. A single stride slipping them in amongst the foliage, the dappled shifting of their skin and hair swimming through the dark browns and pale tans as they moved under the sunlight. Black eyes never leaving Jewel. Voice lilting just as softly and sweetly.

"Oh no trespass for travelers in passing. Please be on your way." Jewel wanted to stare, but to be rude, to give offense, every story spoke of dire consequences when dealing with the fair folk. And not of the usual sort. A Wizard might offer sorcery and magic. Jewel found she had nothing to fear from that. The Gods were obvious in their workings and seemed equally unable to touch her against her will. Not even Gem held the sharp contact of their miracles in the world for long.

But the stories about elf curses were cruel and terrible and far ranging, the ire of an elf did not fall upon but one man, woman or child, or even one family. Whole villages, whole cities and all the lands around them had suffered their wrath in legend. And not swiftly. But for years on end, decades, centuries. Endless misfortunes. Sometimes immediately, sometimes years upon years hence. Profuse myriads of calamities large and small.

Blights fell upon crops, beasts were driven into peaceful lands, mountain cliffs collapsed to block roads, rivers dried up. Children stolen only to return years later when full grown, but made strange and terrible. Leaders and livestock felled by elven arrows once every decade. The wrath of an elf scorned lingered, festered, seemingly stuck to a place and its people until not a single farm or building still stood against it. Not until the place of its ire was left to waste. The stories were clear on this.

And on how costly and rare forgiveness from the fair ones truly was. So Jewel did not gawk at the elf as it simply stood there in the shrubbery to let them pass. She did not even look upon it with Gem in case that somehow gave insult. Well besides a quick glance out of the corner of her eye. But the soft if slightly sad smile was all that was offered for her peek. Jewel was about to sigh in relief, already preparing the tale she would add to the many that she had heard about encounters with the fair ones.

But there was a sudden feeling of joy from the earth of the road. Alas she realized from the song in the winds and the cheers of the earth, trees and stones behind her that the elf was not staying on the side of the road to let them pass and carry the encounter into a new legend. No, the creature that was so rare only two encounters had ever been mentioned in official records of Viznove for the last six hundred years was not allowing Jewel to return it to stories and myth. The Elf was following Jewel's party.