Search for the Extinct [Last of Elves book 2]

Forty-Three: Ailill

Ailill

He began softly, his dark eyes watching the three beastkins as they ranged out in front of them, the young nightbird keeping pace with them as she flew above their heads. "The Forgotten City wasn't always forgotten. It was once a bustling town, full of traders and merchants. Founded by the elves, it was a long time before the humans discovered it, and the goods that it offered."

He paused, thinking.

"It was once surrounded by rich farmland and forests, teeming with the native animals. Beastkins roamed the land, together with nightbirds and groals, to name only a few. They lived in harmony, a delicate balance, that the humans respected, at first."

Movement caught his eye, and he looked at his sister to see her opening her mouth. Although he frowned at her, making her close it again, he wasn't annoyed. He knew that she couldn't help it. She always had something to say.

"The land flourished. The elves kept the delicate balance, and they taught the humans how and what they did to do that, for the elves wanted them to understand. For a long time, they lived in harmony, both races respecting the other and their beliefs, until a time of flood and rain. The Lisnerv was the river of the land, and it flooded.

"The banks broke, and the water covered the land, rushing through the streets of the city. All who were there fled, even the elves and beastkins. To the humans, it was the work of the elves, as spite of their ways and beliefs. To the elves, it meant the earth was angry with them, for something they had done. But they knew not what it was."

He paused again, and they rode in silence for a while, neither Kura nor Aura daring to make a sound.

"The groals fled to the mountains," he finally continued, softer. "They have lived there ever since, fearful of the river and its power, and fearful too of human hunters. The nightbirds followed, heading deep into the forest that surrounded the city and stopped at the foot of the Forbidden Mountains. Even in those days, the mountains were forbidden."

In front of them, Vakt and Hunaja tackled each other, growling as they played. Åska merely watched them, staying close to his chosen's side. Ailill kept his eyes on the dark fur, barely noticing where they were going. The story had taken its hold on him, as it always did.

It wouldn't let him go until he'd finished.

"The races turned on each other. Blood of both elves and humans turned the waters of the Lisnerv red. It ran through the streets. No one was spared, not the children, not even the beastkins, for they fought for their chosen, as they always had done, and always will. The blood of many innocents was spilled. None deserved to die, but die they did."

He paused. The sun was half hidden by the trees.

"When at last the waters began to return where they came from, very few were left. A handful of beastkins and their elves had survived, and barely more humans. The stones of the streets were stained red with blood, and even the Lisnerv still had a reddish hue to the waters. In fear, the elves fled, following the groals and the nightbirds deep into the forest, leaving the once prosperous city behind."

As his stallion quickened his pace, Ailill stopped speaking for a moment to slow him down again.

"The humans fled not long after," he resumed, quietly. "The ground was heaving under the city, the buildings and temples toppling in the streets. It became deserted, inhabited only by the birds and insects. The streets are still stained with blood, the buildings still lying where they'd fallen. No plant or moss grows to cover the stones, for the innocent blood stops them. Nothing grows there."

Silent once more, he gathered his thoughts, his gaze no longer seeing the trail in front of him.

"The city is forgotten, but yet not forgotten. It lives on in tales and in fires, in the very waters that were once its lifeblood. None can live there, for there is a presence in the air that prevents all who journey there from staying, but it welcomes those of the old blood."

He stopped talking, as if he were finished, but no one spoke. They rode in silence for a long time, until the sun was completely hidden by the trees. As he pulled his stallion to a stop, he spoke again, barely audible.

"The old tales tell of a time where the Forgotten City will flourish again. The time that the First Pair walk the land once more."