Sons of Ironstorm - Book 1: Griffon's Rise

Chapter 29: To the City of the High King

"And the High King of the Elves did go forth

Majestic in his strength and mighty in his vision.

And on the shores of the Bay of Idiron,

He did raise up a Great City, a Fortress of Renown.

To be his capital and resort of strength,

For the rest of Time, until even the very End."

- from the Kata Na'Sylvinor pel'Elva, the Elven Histories

KeLarion awoke with a jerk, suddenly aware of light flooding in through his closed eyelids. Light? In this place? Not unless he had been dragged outside while he slept!  He swiftly gathered himself and collected his thoughts as he carefully reached for a weapon. 

Only an enemy would've dragged him from refuge into the open. And only elves turned to the Shadow would be so cowardly to do it while he slept, not daring to lift their weapons against him directly, and letting the Dakern and the wendigo do their dirty work for them.

Perhaps they thought to take him while he was vulnerable, still trying to gather his wits from waking up. But the fools had another thing coming. They wouldn't take him without a fight! Steeling himself against every possibility, KeLarion opened his eyes, expecting a horde of trolls or another wendigo before him.

And found himself gazing instead at a tiny, winged man standing on the stone floor a mere handspan from the tip of his nose. Not only that, but he was a tiny, winged man that glowed with a bright golden light; a miniature sun whose strength had burned through the thickness of his lids.

<<What, ...?>> he began, his voice still hoarse from slumber. Then he listened to it trail off into silence as the little man held up a finger to his lips to urge the elven warrior to remain quiet. Suddenly alive with curiosity, KeLarion lifted himself up onto his hands and knees to better look around him. In doing so, he swiftly discovered why the tiny creature wanted him to stay quiet.

Tiny drops of dew, glowing with the distilled essence of Ri'im himself, the tiny creature's folk were liberally scattered amongst the still sleeping forms of the company. As they walked around, between and over his companions, the tiny winged people filled the chamber with their soft golden light. Their movement formed a shifting mosaic that flowed over the unmoving shapes of the company, a living carpet of dancing light and motion; a wondrous sight indeed.

The wiry Aquilan warrior didn't get long to look at them, however. With the sound of soft chimes, the creature standing near his hand reclaimed his attention. KeLarion swung his gaze downward and back onto the small being. As his eyes met the fairy's, his ears were filled with the sound of singing chimes. In that same instant, something touched his mind.

They weren't words, not exactly. More like concepts, ideas, perhaps even pure thought. Whatever they were, they instantly conveyed the information they carried directly into the heart of his mind. Just as quickly KeLarion realized what the tiny creature was trying to tell him. 'Maker!' he thought wildly as his eyes flew wide with the realization. 'The fairies know where the Lithosin of Aeinwaje hid the scroll that reveals the path to Elvenfast!'

At last, the clue to continuing their northward journey that Ciradaan had hoped they'd find. And without an extensive search of the city; a good thing, since the Dakern and any remaining dark soldiers would make such a search quite hazardous.