Page 6 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

Shalendra made a gurgling sound in her throat. “I, too, know a few influential people, and this sorcerer wouldn’t stand a chance against any of them.”

“And who are these people you claim to know?”

“She knows many in the Norse pantheon, Castien.” Ashia stepped closer, raising Shalendra’s chin with her long, elegant finger. “A number of them have blessed you, haven’t they? I see Freyja’s and Idunn’s handiwork and another’s… A darker weave blended with a wildness—a light, if you will. It reminds me of someone I met centuries ago. He, too, was trapped underground and cried out for those he loved and all that he had lost.”

Shalendra smiled. “You are, indeed, powerful to have seen all that. Freyja and Idunn helped raise me. Recently, I was told the man I knew as my brother was, in fact, my father. His name is Émilien Elasalor.”

Her elegant black brows rose, reminding Shalendra of crows’ wings as they took flight. “Yes, that was his name. He was broken, having just escaped the Fae who cursed him to remain in the form of half man, half wolf. Your father has an inner strength that is rarely seen among men.”

“Maybe because he is not human, but Elven. He was the Black King’s co-financier with his brother, Olivier. Later, King Glanduil discovered my father had an amazing ability at battle strategy, so he became the royal strategist, and his brother took over the financial stuff.”

“Wasn’t there a war between the Elven kind?” Ashia sat on the floor in front of her. Such an elegant lady sitting on the rocky floor of a prison. So strange.

Shalendra nodded. “It was before I was born. None of the Elfkind got along. Each faction, Light, Dark, and Black, could not accept that they weren’t the perfect version of our people. After thousands of years of strife and unrest, it reached an impasse, and the Great Elven War began. It destroyed everything and almost everyone. There are few from any group remaining. The co-regents and, I think, two or three others are the last of the black elves living in Alfheimr. After the war, the prisoners banded together and left, mostly black and dark elves, settling in Svartálfheimr.”

“Such a sad tale for something that didn’t have to be,” Ashia whispered. “There may be something I can do, but I cannot promise it will work.”

“Ashia, can you please make the hole between our cells larger?” Castien asked. “Not seeing the two of you is driving me crazy over here. The guards never enter the cells, so they will never know.”

“What makes you think I have that power?” Ashia gave Shalendra a quick wink and smile.

“You are not funny. One, you are part of nature, and two, I have seen you do more than create a larger hole.Please.”

The bloodstone’s tinkling laugh filled Shalendra’s dismal cell with promise and joy. Two emotions she hadn’t felt since being captured. “Fine.” Ashia reached over and, using her fingertip, traced the hole’s border. The hole widened by a few inches. “Is that enough?”

“Hardly. I want to be able to stick my whole head through if I need to.” His tone turned wistful.

“Why would you need to do something like that? Ashia asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered with exasperation. “Just make it larger. I feel like the walls are closing in around me over here!”

“They are doing no such thing. I would know if they were, so stop panicking. You are just fine.” She traced the hole once more, this time using her entire hand. The hole grew, widening until it was as tall as she was. “There. Now, the two of you can share the space if she wants you to.”

Shalendra chuckled. “You two sound like siblings.” She sobered and leaned forward, squeezing Ashia’s hand. “Thank you for such a wonderful gift. It is difficult for elves to be trapped in small spaces or imprisoned. Our nature is to be out in the open, the sun warming our skin and the gentle breeze caressing our hair.”

Ashia squeezed back, then returned Shalendra’s hand to her lap. “I understand that feeling of wanting to be unrestrained. Free. Most do not understand stones, but we have much the same lives. We just live in the ground. You have seen veins of elements such as gold and copper? Those are just two of many types of stones flowing through quartz rivers.”

“Bloodstones also flow through quartz.” Castien ducked through the hole in the wall and sat between them. “Well, they used to. Like I told you, Ashia is one of the last of her kind.”

“Sadly, that is true. There are a few of us still, and I miss swimming through the quartz lakes with friends and family. As our movements are so fast, most beings cannot see us. They only see the veins of gemstones and metals, but infinite numbers of stones are swimming through them. What stones are seen change faster than a blink of an eye. I miss swimming with such abandonment. I miss those I love.”

Ashia’s expression turned so sad that Shalendra’s heart ached for her new friend. “When we get out of here, and after I locate my aunt and uncle, we will all go swimming. While I know it isn’t the same, there is a place in the Shadow Lands where rivers of rich mud flow. It will be like what Freyja calls a spa date.”

Ashia reached over and cupped Shalendra’s cheek with her hand, a smile replacing the sadness. “You are, indeed, a treasure. Thank you, my friend. No one has ever offered to do that with me, and I will be honored to swim with you. A river of mud would be close to what stones experience as they flow through the ground.”

“Hey, how come you never told me that? I would have swum with you too.”

She patted the dwarf’s leg. “Yes, I know, but we haven’t had the opportunity for that, have we? You were arrested not long after you found me, so there hasn’t been a chance. Now,” she glanced at Shalendra with a thoughtful expression. “Why are you here? In the land of the dwarves?”

She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Freyja came to my home in France—what most of us call Midgard—and updated my parents on what she had discovered about my father’s brother and his wife, who disappeared from France just before the Second World War broke out.”

“What war?” Castien asked.

“It was a global war on Midgard, caused by one man’s evil desire to rule the entire planet and create a special race of perfect people, at least in his demented mind. My father believes his brother and sister-in-law were involved in a spy ring for the Allies, who were the good guys. Their son, Bernard, my cousin, was told by his caretakers that they never came home after a New Year’s Eve party just before the start of the war. He said they were always dressing up in costumes, which gives Émilien’s—my father's—assumption credence.”

“I love dressing up,” Castien smiled. “Costume parties were popular when I was younger. My cousins and I used to dress up as creatures living in the Shadow Lands.” He leaned forward, mimicking her pose. “So, knowing a little bit about the Norse goddess, what did Freyja want you to do?”

“She wanted my parents to figure out what was happening to the Underworlds. Evidently, the dead are disappearing from several pantheons. I know my mother’s realm has been affected the most, but the last I heard, the Greek, Egyptian, and Celtic realms have had disappearances too. My mission with my best friend, Soliana, was to find clues as to what happened to my aunt and uncle.”

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