Stranger (The Aevyanthis Chronicles, Book One)

Chapter Eighteen

The journey through Thyssilla was much more lively, now that Luke could speak Elanduillin. On the morning of their departure, one of the castle guards had escorted them to the outskirts of Elthron, marking a trail on their map.

"This is the fastest path," he explained, tracing his finger along the thick, leathery parchment. The trail snaked its way south, winding lazily through the least dense areas of the forest. "I cannot leave my post, but since Prince Taanyth has doubled security, I am certain you will encounter other watchmen. You can restock at the Gate, a fair three days journey if you make use of the daylight."

"Thank you," Luke replied, scanning the map. Enda's village - "Ethandryll," she told him warmly - was further to the east, and while other villages dotted the kingdom, it seemed they were bypassing all of them. "Any news from the prince?"

But when he looked up, the guard was gone. Don't forget what you are to them, he thought.

If Enda asked, he would shrug it off and agree with Taanyth, that he didn't care what they thought. It was hard to lie to the elf. Maybe Agon will be better; I can blend in. No one will look at me like I've committed genocide there.

But it was the voice of reason that replied, deepening the ache in his heart. Of course not, it said. You're a Stranger, an outsider. You don't belong anywhere in this world. You have no kind here.

Enda bounded on ahead, eager to pick at the mushrooms and plants around them, studying her findings with a keen eye before placing them lovingly in her medicine bag. She spoke of Agon, with its built-up cities and sweaty citizens, but shook her head when he had asked if she had been there before.

"My father is a great adventurer," she explained. "He taught me everything I know. He travels the realms, healing the sick and learning about humans. Sometimes he brings me back books and treasures from his journeys."

"He sounds like a good man."

Enda smiled. She had a contagious smile; it brightened her face and made her eyes sparkle. "He is."

Luke thought back to Enda's house, how her shelves were lined with frayed books and oddities; everything in that house was well worn and well loved, and so human. He imagined the little elf living all alone, reading and rereading every book until it threatened to fall to pieces, fantasizing about foreign, alien cultures. She probably thought it to be romantic, like a beautiful new world just waiting to be discovered.

"Aren't you worried he might come home?" he asked. "What if he thinks you're missing?"

The smile drifted from her face, lost like dandelion fluff in the wind. "He has been gone for over two winters. He warned me that he might not be back for at least three, so he will not notice I am gone."

She touched at the tip of her braid, rolling it around in her fingertips – a habit that Luke believed Enda was unaware of. He felt pity for the girl. Living all alone in that hollow tree, waiting for a father who may never find his way home...

"Well," he said. "When you see him again, you can tell him all about your adventure to Agon."

Her face lit up, and she dropped her hand. "I might even meet him somewhere in Agon!"

Time was lost to Luke as the days melted together. Only the clusters of glowing fungi sprinkled amongst the roots heralded the coming of twilight; they would open like bloated umbrellas as the sun fell below the skyline, their tops casting the forest in the haunting, winking glow of cerulean and amethyst. Thyssilla was always blessed with pleasant weather, an eternal springtime that had never tasted the deathly touch of winter. Even when it rained, it fell upon the forest like a soft layer of cool sweat. Enda would use the large, blanket-like leaves to catch water to drink, and showed him which plants had stems full of watery sap.