SWNOVELS Chapter Chapter Two - Ether
“Carefully, now,” Pluto warns me from below, hovering his hands in the air like he’s somehow able to control my balance. I can tell he’s filled with worry. That’s the thing about elves—our eyes give away our deepest emotions. And his are dark blue, symbolizing anxiety.
I’m always careful. In fact, I’m as nimble as our kind can get.
My feet grip the branch beneath me, wrapping around the bark like claws. The sky is a dull grey, the sun hiding somewhere behind it, which makes it the perfect weather to hunt for klopses. They’re a special kind of bat capable of camouflaging against anything touched with light, and they’re diurnal, which means they sleep during the night. Quite an annoyance, it makes them difficult to spot.
They’re also rumored to have hearts made of a magical elixir, which is why they are so good at camouflaging. The elixir is said to be perfect for enhancing weapons, which is why I dragged Pluto along with me on my plunder. It’s difficult to harvest alone.
The oak I’m balancing on is sturdy—there’s nothing for Pluto to worry about. I search the leafy branches for a dark patch; the burrows for klopses are often masked in the notches of dead, brittle bark.
Just when I think today might be another unlucky day, I spot a burrow. It might be several limbs above, but it’s definitely there—an abyss pulsing as though alive, dark and black and magical.
I push my palms to the trunk, dig my nails into it, and the energy swells from its core into my long fingers. Jackpot.
Before I get carried away, I glance down at Pluto. His hair is yellow and in knots all around his face, clearly due for a trim. I can’t even make out his ears under the mess, and for a second I might almost mistake him for a human. But then he opens his mouth and his sharp canines are there, protruding like a beast’s, as he protests my climb. Definitely not human, and never can be.
“Ether,” he whines, stamping his foot. “You know what will happen if you fall.”
I wave him away and study the branches above me. “What? That I’ll turn into rain if I fall too quickly?” Everyone knows that’s just an old wives’ tale. I reach for a branch and pull myself up. My foot swings around, catching the length of the branch and it gives a little, shaking the leaves sprouting out from the end. I stay perfectly still as it slowly wiggles to a stop.
“No,” Pluto says flatly. “That you’ll die.”
Well, duh. Of course I’d die if I fell from this height, but I won’t. So there is no “if I fall.”
I straddle the branch and look up at the next two, each one a further distance than the ones I’ve climbed before, but I know I can make it. My body hums with the energy I’d absorbed from the tree’s gallant trunk, a feeling much like another heart pounding next to the small one in my chest.
I brush my hands together, dust from the tree sparking in the air like electricity, and I can sense Pluto’s watching eyes. Though we aren’t related by blood, he feels like a brother to me. We’re the closest thing we both have to family, since the War of Undying—he always watches out for me even though he almost never agrees to support my adventures beyond the village boundaries.
I reach up, stretch my fingers so the glorious overcast sky splits between them like shadowy grey knives, and spring my knees down and up to catch the branch above. I grab it effortlessly, but there’s a gasp from beneath me.
“Calm down,” I holler without looking at Pluto. I’m too focused on finding the next spot I can grab to notice his whines or pleas for me to swing down and abort my mission. From what I can see, the inner side of the branch looks just as flimsy as the end, which is to be expected as I near the top of a tree as magnificent as the oak. The branches turn to brittle twigs and sticks, not meant to support the weight of even the lightest of creatures.
"Ether." Pluto’s voice is rigid, now. No longer worried, but curt and filled with terror.
“What?” I snap, turning my head to look at him.
Hundreds of klopses, babies, running along his arms and legs. A storm of them suddenly swarms the ground around him like undulating waves. They resemble fuzzy black balls of soot and lint, and as they continue to jump from the ground onto him, the more and more he starts to look like a bear.
I realize I can’t leave him down there, no matter how harmless they are. An enraged horde of angry parents suddenly appearing would be something to worry about, but there don’t seem to be any nearby.
I turn my head back to the burrow, just meters away. A jump and a swivel and a breath away. A reach away. I bite my lip and shake my head. So much untainted magic just begging to be harvested. But today isn’t going to be the day.
My hand reaches out to feel the pulse of the magic once more. It’s so addicting, this natural throbbing of raw energy. Even as a magical being myself, the alluring intoxication is nearly overwhelming. No wonder humans go crazy with the slightest bit of exposure. I bet they feel even more delighted when in direct contact with it. Sometimes I feel jealous of their... purity, untainted from the vastness that magic controls in our world.
Sighing, I twist away from the trunk and hop down quickly, eyeing each branch briefly for stability. They barely move under my weight—we elves are known for our feather-light physique—and I’m at the bottom in less than half the time it took me to scale the tree.
I reach out to Pluto and he reaches out to me. Our hands touch, energies synergizing. The klopses distribute quickly onto my body, leaving Pluto like the plague. They’re essentially weightless, though I feel their little toepads grazing my exposed arms, legs, and face. It tickles a little, reminding me to remain calm.
Klopses get violent when provoked.
“Thanks, Ether,” Pluto says, but he doesn’t really sound grateful. Just relieved and slightly annoyed. I roll my eyes at him.
“You cost me a lifetime of energy for my knives,” I whisper through tight lips, because at this point any expression I make is covered by fluffy little klopses. “I would’ve never had to forge a new weapon again.”
Pluto sighs, but I can’t see him. An army of black bodies swarm over my eyelids, and I squeeze them shut. Maybe deep down, I am a little afraid.
“Look, I’m sorry about that. Why don’t we find a nest closer to the ground next time?” Pluto still sounds annoyed and I try hard not to reach out and twist his arm. The nerve. Even though I know he only came because he had been concerned for my safety, the least he could do was act as excited as I am.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I mumble. A soft rush of fur brushes along my lips and I shush.
Pluto breathes in deeply and then the bright, familiar sounds of his enchanted whistle ring off the trees. The baby klopses disperse from my body quickly, cascading off my arms and legs like a strange waterfall, and soon, I’m klopse-free. The sun breaks through the sky and birds begin chirping.
Pluto’s whistle conjures whatever he desires in the moment, as long as nature wills it. So parting the clouds momentarily to rid me of klopses seemed to be in nature’s best interest today. Lucky me.
A rustle in the bushes near us catches my attention. I whip my head towards the bright red berries as they wiggle in the brush, and I figure it’s just a small animal. But then that familiar feeling of bloodlust fizzles inside of me, longs to walk away from today with something to show for, so I kneel into the thick, short grass and slip my dagger from the strap on my leg.
“Ether,” Pluto hisses. I don’t look at him, but I feel his hand grip mine, stopping me before I even have a chance to ready my aim. “You’re starved. Look at what’s in the bushes before you choose murder.”
“Murder,” I snicker, shaking my head. Replenishing magic requires killing a beast of the forest. Pluto knows this. “Come on, it’s only a—”
The bush shudders again and from it rises a tall, elder elf. Fully extended ears and glorious, sunlight-kissed blond hair that swirls around him in precise braids. He even wears the crest of one of the most prestigious elf tribes. It glistens blue and gold against the indigo robe he wears. His eyes are sharp and fierce.
My throat tightens and I’m quick to hide the knife behind my back. My head instinctively bows in reverence.
“Pluto Astaroth,” the elder elf bellows. His voice is so spiritually in tune with the forest that it almost sounds like the whispering of the trees as leaves brush past one another. Pluto comes crashing down next to me into a deep bow. His forehead touches the ground and for a second I can’t distinguish his gnarly yellow hair from the stiff grass.
“Yes, Sire?” Pluto’s voice has a squeaky respectfulness to it and a hint of fear.
The tall elf moves past the bush and stands over us, looming. I shakily slide my dagger into the holster around my thigh and Pluto shoots me a look with crow-colored eyes.
“You may leave. As for Ether Malaphon,” he says, and his energy courses through the ground beneath me. Powerful. “You’ll come with me.”
“But—” Pluto begins to protest quietly, and I shoot him a glare that he hopefully takes to mean shut up. Only fools dare to cross an elder elf. Not even me, and I’ve been privy to doing some pretty impulsive things. Including, but not limited to: climbing a tall, gnarled oak tree to find a klopses burrow.
The elder elf reaches down with his large hand and I take it without hesitation. My tiny hand in his is somewhat comedic, though I don’t laugh. Technically, laughing was outlawed well before I was even born. Still, I’ve often done it when I feel that I’m alone and I’m sure no one is watching. At least, I hope it’s considered laughing. Sometimes, I like to feel that what I’m doing is so dangerous, it could get me sent to the king’s court for judgment. What I’d kill to go to the palace.
There’s something about King Azriel’s mysterious son that gets my heart beating. Though his face has never been revealed, and due to his tight schedule—filled, no doubt, with battles and the glorious slaying of dragons—Xavelor has always been my role model. We were even born in the same year, in the same month, and both on Saturdays. It’s my ultimate dream to meet him someday.
But I’m not naive. Prince Xavelor would never, ever—in a million years, even—consider me. Not as a friend, nor a lover. Not unless I were somehow able to change my species. And for Xavelor, I totally would. In half a heartbeat.
The elder elf leads me to our village, and I’m at first confused—I could’ve walked myself back here without an escort. Then he turns to me, his eyes ablaze with a ferocity I’ve never seen before, and he places his giant hands on my tiny shoulders, almost crushes them.
Other elven folk peer through their windows and some stop dead in their lawns, in their gardens. All eyes train on us two. It’s rare to see an elder elf these days, so I’m sure the closet historians are already marking today as an anomaly in history.
However, the elder elf seems to only see me. His eyes bore into mine as he searches my soul. I’m helpless in his grasp, unable to look away.
Finally, he speaks, his voice sharp: “Ether Malaphon. Female elf. Twenty-one years of age. Best in class for archery, sword fighting, spells, and martial arts... Is that correct?”
He recites my proudest achievements like they’re as valuable as dirt, holding no weight or significance. Regardless, I still nod confidently back, my eyebrows moving inward on my forehead. It doesn’t sound like he’s come here to commend me for my cooking and homemaking skills. My stomach does a flip when he mentions my more masculine hobbies. The village has always encouraged me to suppress these talents for fear that I’d be permanently removed from the forest, but I’ve never taken their warnings seriously until now.
“Good. You’re wanted in the king’s palace. Please gather your belongings and prepare to travel tonight.” The elder elf removes his hands from my shoulders. His solemn eyes lock on mine and his mouth moves in animated motions. “This summons was directly ordered by King Azriel of Arioch. If you refuse to come, you know what punishment awaits.”
Yes, I know. The king has no use for those who disobey.
“I don’t refuse.” My voice is flat, but my stomach is doing somersaults, backflips, the splits. I’m going to the king’s palace. That’s where Xavelor will be. I’ll get to meet him. Or if not meet, at least see him.
“Good.” The elder elf bends up straight and nods. “A carriage will pick you up at dusk.” And just like that, the elder elf warps out of existence, leaving nothing but air where he stood.