10. Sardines! Isn’t a Curse Word
Sardines! Isn’t a Curse Word
ISABEL
I sabel can feel Sapphira seething beside her as they’re escorted across the desert, heading east toward the Oshmaliaen?s Dominion. Sapphira is stripped of her sword, and Isabel is stripped of her bag and all its potions. Elves march on either side of them.
Night falls, and they have only the torchlight of the elven perimeter guards to guide them through the dark. Isabel tenses, thinking of night daemons before remembering they aren’t in Cielo anymore. There are other monsters out here, but they’d have to get to the elves first.
Isabel sneaks a glance at Sapphira, who is refusing to look at her. She’s been upset since Isabel agreed to the elves’ terms. But there was nothing else for Isabel to do. They threatened Sapphira, and the reckless woman was going to get herself killed.
Isabel sighs, rubbing at her throbbing leg.
It’s too dark to see anything in front of her, and the sand shifts beneath her feet, weighing her down with every step.
Shhh, shhh, shhh , like tinkling beads bouncing against each other, is the only sound.
She shakes with cold as a chill breeze pushes frigid air through her lungs and down to the bone.
It’s hot during the day, but at night . . . at night, they just might freeze.
Isabel stumbles, her right leg burning with exhaustion. But underneath that, something more sinister burns: excitement. Despite the danger they’re in, a selfish part of her is eager for this adventure, and she doesn’t know how big or small that part of her is.
Isabel’s mother lived a life of adventure and traveled all over the realm in her short life, but she had always warned Isabel not to stray too far from Cielo. Once Isabel was born, she became paranoid and, soon after, a hermit. She made Isabel promise she wouldn’t leave the safety of their home.
She feels guilty for thinking of her promise to her late mother as a chain that has kept her from seeing the world, but there is no other way to see it.
Isabel has never left Cielo. The farthest she had ever gone was the border of the wasteland.
She could have only dreamed of seeing the elven-fae lands for herself.
The Highbren are fascinated by the elves and spend many hours studying their culture.
Though Isabel has never been to the Athenaeum herself, she has read copies of some of their studies.
She’s found the notes in some of the journals among her mother’s endless collection of writings, which take up walls in her bedroom.
When Isabel was ever sad or bored, she would go through book after book, some written by her mother herself and others collected from her travels.
“Isabel,” Sapphira hisses, catching her when she stumbles. Isabel thanks Sapphira, letting the woman take part of her weight as they’re urged forward. Her staff is difficult to wield in this terrain.
The first light shines over the horizon. The elves bark out a warning for them to keep moving as Isabel squints into the rising sun.
“We’re nearly there,” she whispers, choking back the shame she feels for relying so heavily on Sapphira.
“I see the Mountains of Nytherdorei just ahead. They look just like the pictures.” She’s unable to keep the awe from her voice.
The landscape is just as vibrant as the paintings she has studied for long afternoons.
“You’re happy about this, aren’t you?” Sapphira says bitterly, her hand tightening around Isabel’s shoulder. “Why did you agree to go with them?” she growls. She’s getting worked up now. “I could have fought them. I would have—”
“You would have died ,” Isabel says, meeting Sapphira’s stare.
She understands Sapphira’s worry, and she sympathizes with the desire to do more than is reasonably possible.
But it’s just not realistic. She says softly, “I know you are strong. I believe that. But I have heard many things about the elven-fae. They are feared as well as honored across Sule?hare?n. Night elves. Sulees. The chosen people. They have many names. You haven’t been in this world long, Sapphira.
You have a lot to learn. If they want us dead, you and I wouldn’t stand a chance. ”
Sapphira hangs her head. Isabel can see the bitter resentment in the clench of her jaw and her balled fists. But she can also see that her words are getting through to her.
With a sigh, Sapphira asks, “Is that man with the dog mask their king? He has authority over the others, but he doesn’t carry himself like a ruler. I am . . .” She pauses. “I mean, as a knight, I was around many.”
“The elf with the mask is not the ruler,” Isabel says. “Most likely, they’re a commander of the ruler’s legion. Their rulers are the k?nsol or q?nsol. Their current ruler is the q?nsol. That’s what they were saying before. That’s who they want me to save.”
“Queen Soul?”
“Kwen-soul. Also, elves don’t define themselves by man or woman.
Elves don’t have gender. They’re mɑsf?n?.
Only the honored ones, the winged elven-fae in high positions of power, identify with feminine or masculine spirits.
“It’s fascinating.” She sighs, swept up in sharing all she knows.
“I mean, the differences in the society, the very earth, and even the kingdoms ruling during k?n and q?n regimes. I wish I could study it! ”
Isabel is breathing hard by the end of this, and Sapphira just nods along, smiling. Isabel blushes, embarrassed about getting so worked up.
“How do you know so much about the elven-fae?” Sapphira asks. “You said you’ve never left Cielo.”
She shrugs. “I hear things. Also, my mother spoke of them once, when I was very young.”
“Your mother met an elf?”
Isabel struggles with this answer. “I don’t actually know. Some of the stories she told me were her own experiences. But sometimes, I thought she might have been making it up. I’m not sure which of them were real.”
They are quiet for the rest of the journey through the deadland, and Isabel takes that time to think about her mother.
She’s sad to realize she doesn’t think about her much anymore.
When she was younger, she obsessed over her mother’s books, searching in them for some piece of her.
She daydreamed about going on the kind of adventures her mother had.
But at some point, she sort of gave up on that dream.
She became happy with living in Cielo and being a healer.
Or maybe she had only convinced herself that was true.
When they enter the mountain pass, the sky grows instantly darker.
Isabel stares up in wonder, her heart beating so fast that she’s afraid she might pass out.
I’m actually here, in the elven lands! My mother wrote in one of her journals that Oshmaliaen?s is cast in perpetual twilight.
She theorized this was due to the reflective crystal particles in the air reflecting and diffusing the sunlight.
I wish I could find out if that is true. It would take years or even decades, maybe more, to study such a thing.
It takes four elves to help Sapphira and Isabel up the tall steps to the principal city of Ulfalean, which is just inside the border of Ilyath Shire.
“Stay on the path!” an elf in a smushed dog mask warns. Color-shifting fog hovers at Isabel’s feet, reminding her of early morning in the Bastama jungle. The air is cool and wet.
Sea glass trees with crystalline bark rise from the stone pathway, and sharp drop-offs surround them on either side. Sapphira shakes with fear beside Isabel as her eyes trail up, up, up to the great, big land masses rising above them, waterfalls cascading over the sides.
Everything is wet, the air a constant dewy mist.
The chirping and twittering of creatures echo like a haunted symphony, growing fainter as the elven-fae and their captives enter the city. Isabel struggles to take it all in, itching to pull out her journal and charcoal stick to write it all down.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” Sapphira hisses. The woman shakes her head. “You really are an analyst, aren’t you, bookworm?”
Isabel raises a brow at the nickname and mumbles, “Sorry.” She quickly drops the awed expression, tearing her eyes from the towering algae and clusters of puddles that dot the earth.
That’s where they sleep. At least, that’s what she’s heard—that some races of elves sleep in deep, narrow water pods to keep their skin moist. They have specialized pores that directly absorb water for hydration.
Isabel moves closer to Sapphira and gives her hand a squeeze.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I know you’re scared.
I know this is all so strange and new to you, and I’ve been unfair, dragging you into all of this.
My . . . fascination with questionable situations has put you in unnecessary danger.
” She fidgets, biting at the sleeve of her tunic as she glances over at one of the spear-bearing elves.
The elves; hood is down, and their eyes are intense, an unsettling blue like ice.
“I won’t let them hurt you,” she promises. “You might be the knight here, but I will do anything to make sure you’re okay.”
Sapphira smiles, squeezing her hand.
Isabel feels a thrill of warmth go through her.
Yeah , she thinks. Anything. Then she wonders, not for the first time, whether Kaelen has realized that she hasn’t returned.
He must have gotten back to the cottage by now and seen that Sapphira and I aren’t there.
Would he have assumed I just got distracted and spent the night researching in the jungle again? Or would he be panicking?
Would he even be close enough to hear their bond if I opened it?
I’ve never tested it from so far before.
I’ve never even been this far from him since we were children.
And if he does, then what? He would be in just as much danger here as me and Sapphira are.
So, unless absolutely necessary, I will avoid bringing him into this.