Page 122 of Blood of Ancients

Smile disappearing, he said, “I suppose we’ll learn soon enough which of our analyses is correct—if Elayina is a madwoman like the humans think, or a wise prophet like the elves think.”

I snorted. “Or both.”

The smile returned. “Yes. That’s certainly a possibility,lunis’ai.”

Chapter 34

Ravinica

PAST THE FAIRYTALEvalley, through high cliffsides of Norrin’s Pass, we came upon Alokana, capital of the Nation of Heira.

It was a sprawling cityscape cut into the side of a forested mountain much like the one we’d just passed through. Glimmering spires awaited us, canopied by lush evergreens and a hue of greens rarely seen in my world.

Alokana was multi-tiered, spreading across different ledges of the mountainside—a kaleidoscope of colors. Parts of it hung over the edges, leading to precipitous drops hundreds of feet below. Other parts were nestled deeper into the rock face. Ropes and giant hollowed trees created networks and bridges from one section of the mountain to the other. Much of the city had been built precariouslypastthe ledges of the mountain, held up by stoic stonework and sheer determination.

At first blush, it was clear Alfheim had not reached or accepted modernity like Midgard had. This was a medieval city, complete with horses, stone and wood structures, and knights in gold armor with shining swords.

A place of fables, found in storybooks.

A company of the gold-armored elven warriors marched toward us as we approached the mountain, the shadow of Alokana looming over us in all its splendor.

We walked cobblestone roads. Traders and carriages were coming in at a gentle pace from the east and west, while we headed up from the south through Norrin’s Pass.

I had to crane my neck just to see the highest points of the mountain city, and I was sure there was more of it I couldn’t see, near the clouds. Around us, stone ruins marred the land, huge sculptures half-submerged in the grass and ground, as if it was an older part of the city moved at some point to the mountain itself.

Our entourage of Skogalfar became noticeably more alert as the gold-plated Ljosalfar approached. Spears came out, rough mutterings swept through the tribe, and they took to the front of our group.

“This looks like it could get ugly fast,” I said to Corym.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he answered, pushing his way toward the front.

Jhaeros and his kin seemed like they wanted to mob the front, shielding their round-ear charges like chaperones. Just as the two groups started to speak to each other, both drawing lines in the sand and stopping, Corym emerged from the throng.

“Vesryn,” Corym called out to the frontmost Ljosalfar, who was dressed down in gold armor like the kind I’d first seen Corym wearing. “Brother.”

They spoke in Elvish after that. I could only pick up a few things here and there.Definitely need to learn the language better if I’m going to be in the middle of bringing us together.

These two clearly knew each other. As they spoke, my other mates wandered up next to me to get close in case things went south.

“Company-Prince has returned,” I translated from Vesryn, based on Corym’s past announcements about his true status. Corym flipped the vibe again when he said he had arrived with “emissaries from Midgard,” which confused the head elf on the other side.

They spoke swiftly. Corym had the presence of mind to translate in real time. “I know Midgardians have not been in Alfheim for centuries. They’re here now though. The wards have fallen, brother, which means we must communicate with them.”

Vesryn started arguing in his tongue. I wondered if he was truly a blood brother of Corym’s, or if it was an honorific.

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