Davlena

A damp coolness covered Lontel’s forehead. Slowly he opened his eyes. Pain and pressure pounded behind them. For seconds the world remained a gray blur, but finally it came into focus. Staring down at him was the young girl with the large, brown eyes. Something about them seemed odd. Instead of being shaped like an ellipse as were most people’s, hers were shaped like a drop of dew hanging from the eave of a building. Also, her eyebrows were only thin lines above her eyes.

"My name is Davlena," she said to his questioning look. "I am an elf." Her high, soft voice was more like a flute than a voice. Lontel tried to rise but couldn’t. Pain shot through his entire body. He slumped back and relaxed his weak muscles. This was the worst hangover he had ever had. It wasn’t just a hangover, though… He felt his mouth and found two tender puffballs where his lips should be.

"Can you get me some water?" he croaked. The young girl held a cup to his mouth. Gratefully he washed the horrid taste of sickness and blood down his throat. Without his asking, the maiden spooned several bowls of broth into his empty belly. By the time he had finished eating, Lontel’s mind was working rapidly. He was in one of the rooms at the Bull. This girl, he stole yet another quick look at her, was an elf. No doubt she wasn’t much in Sepultha. It was common knowledge he had learned upon his arrival back into the city that elves and men couldn’t … Well, Titarnaes had wanted her.

If Titarnaes had gone all the way to the mountains just to get her, she must be valuable. Unless, the thought made Lontel smirk, the old fool was going senile. The elf’s forlorn mood wiped away Lontel’s smile. No, Titarnaes wasn’t going senile. He knew she was worth plenty, and no doubt only he knew how to realize the profit from her.

That meant the only way Lontel could profit from her was to abduct her and make Titarnaes come to him. He wouldn’t ask for much, just half of the money she brought plus his rightful title of master thief. All he needed to do was convince the elf he wanted to help her so she wouldn’t be burdensome when they made their escape. The rest would be easy.

"Are you really an elf, uh, Dav…?" Lontel asked sitting up.

"Davlena. Yes, I am. Why do you ask? Is it because you want physical proof?" She started to lower the pants she wore.

"NO!" Lontel gasped. "I was just wondering what one of you would be doing in the country of men. I heard only men had survived the Great War."

Davlena laughed. "I heard the same thing, only it was men who had disappeared. We of Elysium thought the only things between us and Shangri-la were wilderness races and Oberon with his lemonyx." Lontel thought he saw her shudder, but paid little attention. So, she was on a journey of some sort.

"Were you on a pilgrimage when captured?" he asked as innocently as he could.

She sighed and Lontel thought his heart would break. "Yes, Eleven other and I were journeying to Shangri-la to take part in the Passage of Life, a ritual which bonds all elfdom together and strengthens our magic. It hasn’t been performed since Oberon’s Ascension shortly after the Great Wars.

"Our power is slipping from us a little every day. Oberon’s however, is growing. If ever he should overtake us, the world will be covered by darkness."

Lontel started to laugh but held himself. He needed her to believe he was going to help her. Laughing was the last luxury he could afford right now.

"So, the longer you stay in Sepultha, this city, the more your power fades while that of Ob… uh, your enemy increases?" Lontel asked.

"Our enemy, Lontel," Davlena said grasping his hand. "Our enemy. If he wins darkness will fall everywhere." Lontel could have kissed her. This was going almost too easily. Davlena spoke again, her melodious voice heavy with dismay. "Since leaving Elysium, I have no powers."

"That’s okay. I have a strong bow arm and can wield a sword with the best," Lontel assured her confidently.

"Alas, so did my brother and the others," Davlena sighed. "In the end it did them no good." Her tone shook Lontel momentarily, but he banished his ominous thoughts. This was his chance to prove himself to Titarnaes.

"Where is Shangri-la?" he asked.

"To the north where the land meets the Cold Ocean," Davlena answered. Excellent! Lontel could sail her to the north side of Lake Sepultha. No one would ever find them there, and she would at least at first think he was truly helping her. Now was the time to act.

"Would your people allow a common thief such as I to help you on your journey?" he asked. Davlena’s eyes sparkled.

"Of course!"

"Good! Here is what you must do…"