Whispering Voices

The day was slowly fading. It was hard to imagine that only that morning I had fallen into the pond, was rescued by Fynn. Now Fynn was dead and I was alone again, lost and confused in this strange world. The mark on my palm itched, and I scratched it absently as I decided what direction to take. Right or left? Huryl or Dyrel? I found myself yearning for a comfortable presence, like the one Fynn had filled. Perhaps I could seek out Roric and get him to come with me as I looked for the strange Queen the witch had mentioned. I was certain the Queen had the answers I needed. I set off towards the Huryl camp when Fynn’s words came crashing through my mind, so clear I felt as if he were speaking them next to me.

“Don’t let them find you – the Huryl or the Dyrel!”

I paused again. I was so confused! I closed my eyes and spun about blindly, hoping to disorient myself enough so that I wouldn’t know in which direction I was running. Let fate or chance or whatever force had brought me here led me down the right path. I no longer knew what it was. Opening my eyes, I began to run dizzily in what I hoped was the right direction.

Long minutes passed and I neither heard nor saw any signs of war or spirits. I slowed my pace and took a deep breath, glad to have left it all behind me. My heart still ached for Fynn, and I longed to have him beside me. I was hungry and thirsty, as I sank wearily to the forest floor. I felt the tears coming to my eyes as I fell backwards to lie staring up and the canopy. All I wanted was to go home!

I must have fallen asleep, for when I opened my eyes the sky had faded to a deep blue and several foreign stars were appearing in the sky. My body was stiff and cold from sleeping in the night air, and my palm itched terribly. I pulled myself into a sitting position and looked around. The forest at night was frightening without Fynn to guard me. I could hear the insects chirping and the silence broken by a flight of birds of the snapping of a twig. The soldiers must have gone back by now, I realized. I was safe.

I rose to my feet, stretching the muscles in my back and trying to ignore the rumbling in my stomach. The momentary rest had done nothing to make my way clear, and I found myself still pondering what to do; only now I was without Ruella’s directions. With a sigh, I sat back down to think about my next move. It was then I saw the two large yellow eyes staring at me from within the underbrush. My heart stopped and I stared back at them in horrified fascination. The eyes blinked and the bushes rustled as I realized the creature was coming forward. Biting my lip to keep from screaming, I waited to see what it was.

It looked almost like a fawn. Its coat was a delicate brown with white spots and a small pointed white tail. It stood on four small legs that tiptoed towards me as I stared. Where the fawn’s head should have been, however, was the torso of a human child. Her hair was white and her skin the colour of the fawn’s coat. Her eyes were large and yellow and pointed ears emerged from her hair. Her face was slightly elongated like a deer’s snout and she looked at me curiously.

“Spirit,” I said, no longer surprised. “I mean you no harm.”

The fawn-child came closer and I saw she held a bundle in her arms. Carefully she laid it on the ground before me and stepped back. I reached for it and found it full of wild apples and berries, which I gratefully began to eat.

“You are the promised one?” the spirit said in a childish voice.

I nodded. “Do you know what you were promised?”

The fawn-child smiled. “You were promised to us and we have found you! The Queen will be pleased.”

“Where is the Queen?” I asked. “I must speak with her.”

If the spirit was going to answer me, she never had a chance. An arrow embedded itself in the ground directly in front of her. She reared on her fawn’s legs and disappeared into the forest, crying out in fright. I leapt to my feet as if to follow her, but she was lost from view. Instead I glanced up at the treetops to find out who had shot the arrow.

“Come out,” I cried. “Coward!”

A short figure leapt from the trees, landing only a few feet away from where I stood. As he straightened, I knew right away what he was. Roric had been right. Seen one elf, you’ve seen them all. This one was slightly taller than the prisoner Roric had taken. He had the same curled ears and dressed in the colours of the forest. His hair was black and he held a bow in one hand and a dagger in the other. A quiver of arrows hung from his belt.

“How dare you call me a coward when I saved your life!” the elf snapped. “What are you doing in the forest anyway?”

I was getting really tired of that question. “What are you doing out here?”

“Scouting,” the elf replied. “I followed your trail, thinking you were a Huryl spy. You’re not, are you?”

“Of course not. I’m not on either side, Huryl or Dyrel.”

The elf shrugged. “Makes no difference. You’ll have to come with me anyway.”

“And if I refuse?”

The elf had an arrow in his bow and pointed at my heart in a heartbeat. “I’ll shoot you here.” He relaxed slightly. “If you’re not a Huryl, there’s no point in me taking you to the Dyrel camp.”

I took a deep breath. I would not have to disobey Fynn’s last warning after all. The elf was looking me up and down.

“You look half starved. I’ll bring you to the elf camp. I’m sure the Queen will want to know about you. I’ll send her a message in the morning.”

My heart skipped a beat and my mind raced at this turn of events. Were the elves enemies of the spirits? They must be since this one had fired at the fawn-child. I realized numbly that I was being led closer to the Dyrel by the race they employed as scouts. I had been discovered and was being taken hostage, even after Fynn’s warning! The elf began to head out, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I was following.

“Promised One,” a chorus of voices seemed to whisper around me. “Danger. Trust not the elves. Trust not the humans…”

I paused. The charm Ruella had given me allowed me to hear the spirit’s voices, and they were all calling out the same advice. The elf was clearly growing irritated at my delay, but I wondered if I would be able to escape him, even if I wanted to. Fynn had cautioned against the humans, but said nothing about his own kind. Should I trust the voices of the spirits over the elf?