14. Garratt

FOURTEEN

Garratt

E very elf in the kingdom knows the secret ritual. The one that has been passed down from generation to generation. The things we are supposed to whisper, hunched over a cauldron of magic, like something from a fairy tale, to summon each other – warn each other – if evil approaches.

To my knowledge, it has only been used once: to rally the elves before the first Great War of our kind. When we battled forces that no longer exist, and when we were still considered noble and wise.

It has been so long since anyone saw us that way.

We are not abhorred like the Shadowkind, but we are not respected either. Elves have become something to laugh at. Jokers. Tradespeople. Merchants. We are the ones who swindle and steal in order to get by. Who double-cross, and play cards in taverns, and drown the memories of our greatness in ale.

But it is time, now, for us to remember who we were.

Elodie watches me closely as I pull back the trapdoor that leads to the basement below the inn. Don't get me wrong; I thought about running.

Every instinct in my cynical body told me to leave Pria, leave Elodie, run. Save myself. Flee the city and never look back because I'd be quicker and safer on my own.

But then I thought of my wife. I saw her as if she was standing right in front of me, and I saw the look of dismay on her face. Disappointment. What have you become, Garratt? She'd have whispered it to me. Not with malice but with sorrow.

And the thought of her voice sounding like that made me pull myself together and, against all my better instincts, take Pria and Elodie to the one place I've never shown anyone before.

Down in the basement, I head for the shelves at the back of the room. Pria follows me, and helps me move them aside to reveal a door. She raises an eyebrow at me, but doesn't speak. Elodie is lingering at the foot of the stairs. She seems petrified of her own shadow, and wants to be close to me and far away from me at the same time because I got her into this mess.

Looking at her now, shaky and clammy, I almost feel guilty for dragging her into my life. She and I were supposed to be nothing more than a bit of fun. I cared for her, and I told myself that made it okay for her to love me. I told myself I was giving her what I could, and that should be enough.

I hope she doesn't expect me to be the one to protect her in all this. Because I barely have the strength and fortitude to protect myself.

That's not who I am.

It might have been once.

But now, I look after myself.

As I open the door, and it groans loudly on its hinges, I realise that I'm not doing this because I feel it's the right thing to do. I'm doing it because the thought of my wife's disappointment is too much to bear.

And because if I run, where will I go?

That thing Finn turned into? He's not going to just set up camp in the castle and rule peacefully for the rest of his days. He wants destruction. And, no matter where I run or how far, his shadows will reach me.

Especially if he knows I betrayed him.

But there is safety in numbers. If the elves band together, we have a chance.

"What is this?" Pria folds her arms and stands back, examining the shrine in front of her.

It's more of an altar than a shrine, in actual fact.

Candles, symbols etched onto the wall, and a large silver bowl. Next to it, a silver jug.

"It's how we tell everyone that trouble is coming our way." I lift the jug. It is full to the top. Despite everything, this is the one tradition of my mother's I have always kept. Ensure the jug is full. Always. So that when you need it, it is there.

I exhale slowly and motion for Pria to step back.

She moves out of the way as Elodie moves forward. From the corner of my eye, I notice her try to take Pria's hand, but Pria scowls at her and shrugs her off.

Was Elodie always like this? A scared child with no gumption or wit about her?

I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, raising the jug.

As I pour the water into the bowl with one hand, I start to stir it with the other and begin to whisper the words I never thought I'd need to use...

"Vael'sor ith'mar, lun'dae kir'ath, Shal'mor fen'thi, rae'lum vor, Eth'nar sil'vai, dae'lith kun, Thae'sor vael'mar, lun'dae kir.

"Ith'rae shal'vor, eth'lum fen, Mor'vai thae'kun, dae'nar sil, Vael'lith sor'mar, lun'rae kir, Eth'mor shal'vai, dae'lum vor."

"What did you say?" Elodie whispers.

Part of me wants to tell her to be quiet. But a pang of guilt tugs at my gut, and I force myself to answer her.

"I said... Kin of starlight, heed my call, Through shadow and light, come to me, By ancient bonds and sacred vows, Gather now, from near and far.

"Time of need, time of change, Elven brothers, elven sisters, Unite our strength, unite our will, To face the darkness, to shape our fate."

"Oh," Elodie replies, biting her lower lip. "It sounded beautiful."

The water is turning blue. Dark at first, then brighter. It starts to glow. It swirls faster. A pattern forms on the surface. Elodie and Pria move closer. Then Elodie lets out a small gasp. It turns into a cry of pain.

She shakes her arm and looks down, pulling up her sleeve to examine her skin.

I do the same.

Pria stares at us.

On our forearms, a symbol is appearing. Red at first, like it is being drawn there, right now as we watch, by a red hot poker.

But then it settles and becomes blue, glowing like the water in the bowl.

It is a symbol I have never seen in the flesh, only ever in books and described by my mother. An intricate pattern of vines and branches unfurls across my skin, weaving together to form a perfect circle.

It burns viciously, and as the heat subsides, I expect the glow to darken too. Only, it does not. It keeps glowing. Shining into the gloom of the basement.

"What is it?" Elodie breathes.

"This will be happening to every elf in the kingdom right now," I tell her. "Your parents never warned you about it?"

She shakes her head. "My parents died when I was a baby. You know that, Garratt."

I did know that. But I'd forgotten because I've paid so little attention to anything she's ever said to me. "Well..." I put my hand on her shoulder, trying to offer a sliver of comfort. "Most of us know what it means. It means something bad is coming, and that it's time to come together. No elf can ignore the call."

"Come together where?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

"I'll show you."

We gather on the outskirts of the city. It is pitch dark, and the lights of Luminael seem more dim than usual. Even the stars are hiding. Behind the thickening clouds that have been gathering all day.

"They all just came?" Pria gazes in amazement at the crowd in front of her. At least fifty of us, all with glowing tattoos on our forearms.

"They did." I am shocked, too. I didn't truly expect them to appear.

Many faces, I know from the tavern. But many, I don't. And I wonder whether elves throughout the kingdom are, this moment, making their way towards Luminael.

"You made the call?" asks an older elf with curly grey hair.

I nod at him. "I did. Pass the word. Trouble comes. We head to the library. There, I will explain."

He does not question me, just presses his lips together solemnly and whispers my words into the ear of the elf next to him.

When the truth has circulated, all stand silent. I look at the elf beside me and he holds out his arm. "They are waiting," he says. "They will follow you."

"No." I shake my head. "I am no leader. They should follow someone else."

"Many know the way," he says. "That is not the issue. The issue is that you summoned us, so you now lead us."

I glance at Elodie. She smiles encouragingly at me as if I should be pleased. But Pria purses her lips. Elodie might see me as some kind of loveable rogue, but Pria sees me for what I really am; a backstabbing con artist who serves only himself.

She knows I'm doing this to secure my own survival.

And she knows, because of that, I'll step forward and let them think of me as some kind of saviour.

I raise my arm. My tattoo glows brighter. From the back of the crowd, someone calls, "We follow."

The others echo, "We follow, we follow."

Then the man beside me tugs my sleeve. "Here," he says. "Take this" He offers me what looks like a staff. It's only when I examine it closely I realise it's one of two sticks he was using to help him walk.

When I take hold of it, however, my fingers grow warm. The tattoo seems to spread down my arm. Bright blue light swirling on my skin. It flows into the stick, down its ridges, then forms a glowing ball of light on the end of the stick.

I hold it high above my head and look up at it.

Everyone else looks at it, too.

Elodie whispers, "Cool . . . that's so cool."

But a sense of dread has settled deep in my stomach. "I am not a leader. I was not meant to do this. Someone else should take charge."

"You made the call," the man repeats, staring at me with dark eyes. "So, you better be ready to do this, son. Because no one else can. You're in charge of these people now. So, you see them to safety."

As I move slowly through the crowd, it parts on either side of me. Pria puts her hand firmly on my shoulder. "Well, well, well," she says. "Looks like you got what you always wanted, Garratt."

I swallow forcefully but do not turn to look at her.

"These people trust you. Implicitly. Without you having to do anything to prove yourself. You're in charge."

"I have never wanted to be in charge of anything."

Pria rolls her eyes and scoffs at me. "Nonsense," she says. "You love controlling people, manipulating people. I've seen you playing your games. We all know what you're like."

"Games," I hiss. "Meaningless games. Scamming people to get a little extra money out of them. Twisting people against one another so I can sneak in and take advantage. Not this. Not..."

Shrugging, Pria withdraws her hand. "Well, maybe not. But this is what you've ended up with. So, you better pull yourself together."

I hold my breath in my chest, letting it swell and burn behind my ribs. I don't know why I'm doing this when everything inside me is telling me to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction.

But, despite my better judgement, I lift the staff high in the air and call, "Follow me. To the library on the shore."

We walk for hours. When we reach the shore, sunset is upon us and the beach is cast in an eerie almost-darkness. We approach on foot, on the sand, all fifty of us moving as one towards the place we'll be safe.

But then I feel it.

The darkness in the air.

I stop, and everyone else stops too.

"What is it?" Pria asks, hand going to the dagger on her waist as she peers into the distance.

"Something isn't right," I whisper.

I can see the outline of the caves from here. Silhouetted against the velvety night sky, they look completely unassuming.

I am still staring when the ground starts to rumble beneath my feet.

A crack appears on the beach. It stretches from between our crowded-together bodies all the way along the sand towards the cave. Another rumble. And then the beach begins to split open.

The crack becomes wider.

We jump back, scrambling to keep from falling.

It stops, about a foot wide, exposing nothing but inky blackness below the beach.

But the rumbling does not stop. Now, it sounds like feet. Feet and... wings.

"Garratt..." Elodie's voice cracks as she whispers my name. She grabs my arm and grips so hard I almost release a growl of pain.

I stare in the direction she is staring.

From the cave mouth, a swarm emerges.

A swarm of fae with huge black wings, and red eyes, and black veins on their pale skin. They keep coming and coming, so many of them, screaming into the air and coming and coming until the beach is barely visible anymore.

"Garratt..." Elodie shakes me. "What do we do?"

I look down at her, then I turn to the others, lift the staff high, and yell, "Run! Run now!"