The Colorless Land

Chapter 15: The Kingdom Behind the Water

Jolette held her breath for a reason that had nothing to do with the water under which they had just passed.

They were standing in the middle of a large cave—no, not a cave. This place was a hall in the face of the mountain, its walls caved into countless shapes, trees and flowers and animals. It was lit by a million finely-wrought lanterns, yellow and blue and orange and purple, and rich green plants grew from cracks in the walls, large leaves and strange flowers winding their way along the cave.

And then there were the archers.

Jolette had never seen an elf before, but at a single glance she knew these ones were elves. They looked just slightly too off to be human, though not like the Colorless did; they were simply a little too tall, a little too long-limbed and pointy-eared, their features a little too smooth to be human. Jolette could not decide if she found them beautiful or a little off-putting.

They did look intriguing, she had to give them that. Their hair and skin and eyes were of every color found in humans, but somehow more vibrant and intense; their garments were in shades of blue and gray and green, but the fabric shone and shimmered, catching the light of the lamps like the finest silk she had ever seen on traders' boats. They were all adorned with silver and gold, just like their smooth wooden bows and arrows.

Arrows that, unfortunately, were currently pointed at the group.

Jolette glanced at her companions. None of them moved. Edmian's face was still blank, though less vacant than earlier. Saryana's expression was a mixture of bafflement and doubt. Only Aithal still looked perfectly calm.

From the circle of elves one figure emerged, a tall young man—and young he truly looked, like a barely-grown human, not ageless like the other elves. "Strangers!" he declared in a voice that reminded Jolette of a clear stream in the mountains. "How do you know of this entrance, and what brought you here without permission?"

Jolette's eyes flitted to Aithal, and from the corner of her eye she saw Saryana doing the same. Aithal, however, only stared at the elf. Then he blinked a few times and furrowed his brow.

"I've seen you before," he said.

The elf looked a little put off by that, but he quickly lifted his head and tightened the draw on his bow. "Don't bluff," he declared. "I will not fall for that. Say who you are, or–"

"No, I do know you," Aithal cut him off. "I remember your face, Evariel."

The elf's composure slipped and vanished in a heartbeat. His mouth gaped open, his hands inadvertently lowering his bow.

"You–" he spluttered out. "How do you know my name?"

An amused grin spread over Aithal's face. "Don't you remember?" he said. "Of course, it's been some twenty years, I might have changed a little. I was only a teenager back then."

Squinting his eyes, the elf stared at him, the gears in his mind visibly working at full speed. Then his eyes grew to the size of saucers.

"Aithal?" he exclaimed. "It can't be...You're Aithal, aren't you?"

Aithal smiled. "So you do remember me, old friend!"

"I can't believe it!" Dropping his bow, Evariel made a grand gesture at them and burst out laughing. "I can't believe it! You've grown so old!"

Saryana clapped both hands over her mouth in a feeble attempt to hide her laughter. Aithal ran a self-conscious hand over his face. "I only aged at a normal human pace," he said almost sheepishly. "While I see you've barely changed, old friend."

Evariel abruptly stopped laughing. His cheeks and the tips of his ears flushed slightly pink.

"Only compared to you," he said. "Not my fault if you funny people grow old in the time it takes me to grow a few inches."