27.1: Craters

27

Iridea

There is not a doubt in my mind that the feathery prick has other plans for Stellina. Her room is separated from mine and Hawthorne’s to, I suspect, create a gap where the king can snivel his rat-nosed, mutton-chopped head through and squeak past us to the ‘Star Elf’. He’ll have to do better than that. Estranged sleeping arrangements won’t stop Hawthorne knocking on our doors for new adventures and I am not so easily talked over.

Second of all, I’m convinced that he dismissed the NightCrawler just to aggravate Stellina into doing anything for his approval. I like to think she’s smarter than that, but her emotional outbursts cause me to worry. Occasionally she’ll barricade her door and we won’t see her until she emerges for food. A peak into her room shows scattered papers and tossed furniture. Her dress sleeves have singe marks. Perhaps the King’s plan is working, or perhaps he’ll end up with a hole through his heart for aggravating a creature far more powerful than he. In any case, I can help her resist insane impulses by keeping her company. Unfortunately, wherever I go, I can be assured that a palace servant may follow. The mountain has eyes and ears. Today, this seems not to be the case. Perhaps it is because I do not usually leave my room at this time; although I would argue inconsistent leavings would need to be watched more than others.

I creep through the hallways, which are dark and empty as if they were abandoned years before. Often, I feel like I am walking through ruins. The only sign of occupancy is their level of cleanliness which shines at the edges of my eyes and wavers in the air. Stellina and Hawthorne are scheduled for sword lessons at this time; early in the morning as the sun warms. I figure I can watch and wait until they’re done. Sword fighting is of no interest to me. Instead, I’ve been directing my energy towards my power and within the Castle’s reservoirs in the hopes of finding something unknown to Evelena’s small library. So far, I haven’t learned anything new. Maybe that’s a testament to Evelena’s collection, or maybe I just haven’t searched hard enough.

There is a courtyard at the Castle centre where the mountain breaks into a cylinder of light. This is where Stellina and Hawthorne train. Typically, I think it is just a courtyard for the King’s pleasure as the knights seem to train elsewhere - if they train at all and are not just statues in fanciful armour. When I finally blink away the corridor’s darkness in a sudden flood of light, it is only Hawthorne at the centre with their trainer. He wields a blunted sword with increasing skill. His feet find the floor with confidence, his arms - which have since acquired muscle - are certain as they cleave the air. His skin is burned red from time spent in the sun. Acne speckles his face from unwiped sweat. His clothes are borrowed from some wardrobe deep in the Castle’s walls and look more polished than his usual attire, though he still wears the damn coat. It must get in the way of training, over-sized as it is, although, is he used to its weight from years of wear? Or, I could be imagining it, he seems to be filling into its shape day by day. His eyes glint with new energy as he lives his old dreams. I know they are old dreams. He told me, well, he told his mother in a letter.

He is not handsome.

“Iridea!” He catches me staring and smiles, wiping his sleeve across his forehead. The knight, his trainer, relaxes her sword and lifts her gaze up through the mountain to the sky above. “Why are you here?”

My cheeks are warm because I was caught watching, but I wasn’t watching, just waiting for him to finish.

“I’m looking for Stellina, she needs company,” I answer, stepping back under the alcove into the dark and crossing my arms. He should get back to training, I did not mean to distract him. He frowns.

“She hasn’t been at training.”

My arms fall to my side. “Since when?”

“Since after the NightCrawler, sorry, I thought she told you.” He genuinely looks apologetic. His head drops into sincerity and he tugs at his coat’s sleeves. He rests his back against a courtyard pillar, breathing deeply. I watch him, astounded.

“Told me? Did she tell you? Why?” I splutter. Why would she abandon her training? Especially right after the NightCrawler attack. If anything, I thought that’d motivate her to train more.

“She hasn’t told me anything.” Hawthorne releases a breath with a puff, “I assumed she confided in you more than me.” I scoff. This is silly; clearly, she likes Hawthorne more than me, who wouldn’t? Could she be hiding things from both of us? Why? Is the King’s plan working?

“Why would she tell me anything? She’s around you more,” I say with some bitterness. He seems to register it but shrugs it off.

“She seems to go out of her way to talk to you more.” My eyebrows shoot up. I’ve seen my spot in the group as one that is easily replaceable and is in direct competition with Hawthorne’s place but perhaps Stellina, the Star Elf - for that is who she is - sees different values in the both of us. Perhaps we hold equal places in her quest for saviourism. And perhaps these places are not as secure as I once thought them to be. Does she think she can do this alone? Could she?

“I need to find her.” I swivel back to the hallway I came from.

“I’ll finish up here and see you afterwards?” Hawthorne calls after me, “If she’s not in her room, she usually climbs to the highest point in the Castle. I went with her after training once but I’m much more comfortable with my feet solidly planted on land.”

“Noted.” I speed off, almost at a run. Stellina’s room is three flights higher than mine and Hawthorne’s. I now have a servant following me like a haunting spirit. They must have spotted me in the courtyard.

When I reach her room and fling open the door, I am met with the usual sight of chaos: papers everywhere, misaligned furniture, an unmade bed. I peer at the papers’ contents. Myan and Elvish dialects run across torn pages. In pencil, a floral though rushed script interrupts the inked words. The words are indecipherable and scattered with unusual sigils; likely in the Star Elf language. It’s strange to stare at a dead language so wild and alive on a page; to not understand even the meaning of the accents floating and intersecting words. What I can make from the Myan pages is information I already know: communications between the remaining Elves during and after the Star Elf’s annihilation, the power vacuum following their absence, the mass migration of humans from the north breaking past the Light Elves controls causing instability and riots, all of which lead to the Castle’s creation.

The period between then and now has been a series of conquests for the Cursed One. First, his failed attack on the East Shadow Elf clan. Then, a half century of silence where everyone believed he was killed or died of old age. His re-emergence announced by the swift domination of Northern Xeorka, which wasn’t very inhabited anyway, and his alliance with a species of creature never before interacted with: the Xeoserp. Continued silence until another sudden conquest on the majority of Xeorka, which was also not heavily inhabited. He has always seemed to move in floods, like the ebbing of a tide. Appearing and disappearing suddenly, holding the world on edge. His rule is enforced by loyal creatures, the ice snakes and deprecors which, like him, alternate between heavy enforcement and lackadaisical wandering. The last decade has been his most active with anomalies occurring in the sky weeks before the Cursed One’s next attack, almost as warnings. The Western Shadow Elf agreement. Xeadafria. Sightings on the borders. Once, when I asked Evelena what our short period in Xeorka was like, she said it was manageable. The Cursed One couldn’t watch every part of the forest and the citizens worked for him in exchange for solitude, which they got, for the most part. When oppression is all you know, could you even imagine a different reality?

Of course, Stellina knows none of this. Whatever happened to her after the attack on her kind left her detached from Zyrona. When I try to pry, she shuts down. Did she witness everything? How was she the only one to escape? An urge for knowledge pricks at my patience. What can I do to make her feel comfortable enough to confide in me?

If the papers weren’t worrying enough, the pocket-marked wall is. Craters the size of a fist cover the blank stone wall. The servant sucks air through his teeth and promptly leaves upon seeing them, likely to inform someone of the disrespect to their hospitality. Approaching the craters, I notice groups. One group of craters is surrounded by black stone which lifts from the wall as ash when I drag my finger across. Another group is cold to the touch with frost tickling their edges. Another is deeper, but smaller. The last group looks less like someone punched the wall and more like the wall was made to have hole formations. Stellina hasn’t been at training in over a week but she’s certainly kept herself occupied.

Since Stellina isn’t in her room, I make my way to the base of the staircase which curls along the opening of the training courtyard and leads to the mountaintop. The steps jut out of the mountain rock and a brass rail weaves along them. From below, the rail blends in with the rocks and makes them gleam. Metal clashes from the courtyard. Thankfully, I have wings, otherwise I’d kill Stellina for making me walk up all these steps. The air currents are awkward in this funnelled space but I push through them. From lack of use, my wings strain with effort. By the time I make it to stable ground again, my muscles burn and my armpits are wet from sweat. Far below, like looking through a telescope, Hawthorne squints up and waves. His trainer looks perturbed at my second interruption and claps his back with her sword edge to retrieve his attention. He winces but smiles once more for me before he returns to his practice.

A groan escapes me when I am met with more steps that lead to the mountain peak. Wind gusts around the peak, swirling in unexpected patterns and bringing my hair into my eyes. I don’t want to be chewed up and spat out in the Dreadshade so I have no choice but to climb.

The lengths I go to for this girl.

With many a huff and multiple breaks to wheeze, I lift myself up the last step with the aid of the rail. My heart and temper soar to see silver braids fluttering in the wind against midnight skin, cold to my presence. She leans against the brass rail that encircles this viewpoint, her head pointed in the direction of Jemtong, or, her home. The altitude and the view rips my breath from me, so that I’m gasping like a fish exposed to unknown elements. I’ve never been this high before. I doubt many people have. It’s amazing. Through the mists of clouds, you can see the forest surrounding the base of the mountain; the valley between the ridges of the Edelkohle mountains; the hint of the sea as the land flattens and grows greener to the east. Maybe it’s my imagination, but is that patch of dark clouds far off hiding the Xeorkan rainforest from sight? Everything feels so close here, Zyrona so small. So conquerable. From the corner of my eye, silver shifts. Stellina leans further, her waist pressing against the metal. But she isn’t leaning, she’s slumping and the weight of the upper half of her body drags her forwards where only the harsh side of the mountain awaits.

“Stellina!” I throw myself forward and grab her shoulders, pulling her back with more strength than I knew I had. She falls onto the marble tiles. I catch her head in my arms. I expect to see shock, or any response at all, but her face is slack and her eyes white.

“Stellina?” I ask, worry sharpening my tone. Is this some magical ritual? Did she fall asleep from exhaustion? Did the King poison her? I pat her face. “Stellina, wake up.” No response. “Stellina!” My heart beats fast. Her eyes roll into being and slide across my face like she’s coming out of a dream. Relief floods through me. She’s alive.

“Stellina! Are you ok? Do you need medicine?” She blinks. She stares at my face.

“Iridea?” She looks around, “Why am I on floor?”

“You seemed to pass out. You nearly fell off the cursed mountain.” I help her sit up.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Sorry?” She stands without my help and glances back over Myan.

“It was just a vision,” she says.

“A vision? Do those happen often?” I chase her as she starts to climb down the stairs. Why is she so calm? “Stellina, you scared me. What was that? Do these…visions make you pass out? Do they make you throw yourself off cliffs? Do they need to be addressed? Why haven’t you told us about them before?”

“Usually I do not pass out. I am sorry to scare you. No, they do not need to be addressed, they were given to me.”

“By who? What do they show you?”

“My…” she pauses, “teacher. They show me future, but this one was a memory.”

“A memory that made you nearly slip over a rail down a mountain?” Stellina stops just before the spiral staircase where the clash of swords has ceased. Her hand lingers over the rail.

“It was a bad memory.”

“Of what?” I step in front of her, “You haven’t told me or Hawthorne anything! What happened to you? What are you doing in your room?” Stellina is silent. “Let us in! We’re here to help you. Maybe if we combined our knowledge we could be figure out what in Zyrona is going on.” Stellina mumbles something beneath a shield of hair. “What?”

“You have not asked.” She pushes me behind her. Her feet patter down the stairs like water jumping from rocks. I kick off and fly next to her as she descends.

“I was worried that if I pushed, you wouldn’t feel comfortable to tell us.” I say.

“You are pushing,” Stellina says with an edge to her voice I haven’t heard before. Her eyebrow ticks. “I am not wild animal.”

“Then stop acting like one!” I yell before I can stop myself, “Mata’u, have mercy! Look at your dress - look at your room! You have torn pages with mad scribbles everywhere and your walls are violated with holes.” Her eyes shoot towards me in a fierce glare. “You break down, you run away from Hawthorne and me. You’re doing just that right now. Let us into your thoughts! Aren’t we your allies? Your only allies?” We reach the bottom of the staircase. She storms across the courtyard faster than I can keep up. “Get your act together Star Elf!” I yell after her. She’s gone as soon as I found her. Hawthorne rounds the corner and dodges Stellina’s retreating form. He’s changed into a clean outfit. He still wears the damn coat. He stares at me, wide-eyed.

“What did you do?”

“Shut it.”