Page 143 of Blood of Ancients

“Will you walk with me? I have things I’d like to show you. A history lesson I’d like to give you.”

I gave her a small bow of my head, from the waist. “I would be pleased to get some answers, Ancient One.”

“Good. Your loyal men may follow, yet I request some distance.”

“Of course.” I tossed a look over my shoulder, my eyes telling them to stay close but nottooclose.

Zentha glided away back the way we had come, and then Elayina took over. She had a measured pace, but we were in no rush. I had waited my whole life to learn more about my history. Now that I was so close and anxious about it, I could wait a few more steps.

The seer brought us past the guards, into the main tower, and to the right. The palace was at least five stories tall, but we stayed on the first level. I didn’t get to see much of its splendor. What I did see was impressive enough: tapestries of red radiance and gold accents, rugs that looked priceless, and ornate paintings and bas-reliefs of ancient elven history.

We walked into a long corridor with my mates shuffling slowly behind us, fifteen feet back. Royal Golds waited at every closed door, like the Queen’s Guard—stoic, spears set into the ground, eyes out past their shiny helms.

Elayina hid her hands in the sleeves of her dress and brought my attention to the long mural that adorned the left wall, stretching for many rooms in a single, elaborate fresco.

The picture I looked at was one of war, peace, and war again. Long-eared elves fighting against humans, dark-skinned elves fighting against the pale ones, brilliant spheres I assumed were planets or realms; gods and goddesses—or spirits, perhaps—standing among the clouds, peering down at their warring people with stern faces.

The mural leapt off the wall, like a masterpiece by Michelangelo.

Elayina said, “A truncated version of the Taldan Wars. And many other wars besides.”

“Aye, we have gorgeous, busy pieces of art like this back in Midgard.”

She smirked at me over her shoulder. “A bit pretentious, you ask me.”

I chuckled, and she carried on.

At the end of the hall, three high-ceilinged rooms over, she stopped us again and stared up at the wall.

Here, the painting was different. At the last wall-sized panel, I furrowed my brow at the sight of winged serpents and beasts, goblins, other green-skinned creatures I couldn’t identify, and animals roaming across barren wheatfields and grasslands.

“This looks different than the others,” I pointed out.

“The Calm, it is called.”

“It looks . . . anything but calm. Chaotic, if you ask me. And are those dragons in the sky there?”

“They are.” She tapped the ruby pommel of her cane and, still staring at the mural, said, “My memories and strength have returned to me in Alfheim. My powers of recollection are greater here, away from the weakened magic of your world.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” I wasn’t sure where she was going with that backhanded comment about Midgard. To our left, about twenty feet away at the edge of the room, my mates stood in stoic silence, watching us rather than the elaborate painting opposite them on the wall.

Elayina looked at me with her tired yellow eyes. “Allow me to ramble, child.”

“Please,” I answered, spreading my hand forward. “It’s why I’m here.”

A small smile flashed across her wrinkled face.

“The serpent’s shadow. Do you recall what Corym E’tar and I taught you of the prophecy in my hovel in Midgard?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “It was the reason you were staying in Midgard, when Corym had urged you to leave. ‘To oversee the tragedy that will soon fall. To make sense of it all.’”

“Aye. At the time, I believed that tragedy to be the attack on Corym’s encampment by the human soldiers. Now, I see my foresight was wrong. Muddled. I believe the ‘tragedy’ I spoke of has to do with the falling of the wards protecting Midgard from portal-makers. Now, anything is possible. Your world may begin to see visitors from the nine realms you could not expect, or even fathom.”

“Like the Dokkalfar.”

She hummed with a dreary nod. “A twisted bunch, those cousins of ours. Lost their way, I think.”

“Is it my fault?” I asked, and then expanded when she glanced over at me curiously. “I’m the one who re-opened the portal that Corym’s sister, Deitryce, and the wardtracers opened and closed. I did it to save Corym’s life.”

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