The Whispers of the Spires

The old elf held his great-granddaughter’s hand as they strolled through the forest. She tugged insistently to try and make him walk faster, but he kept a measured pace.

“I want to go to the spires, Gappa Ayenden!” she cried out excitedly.

He nodded. “We’ll go near them, Enka’la. But it’s getting late, and the spires are not always safe.”

“Aw, you’ll keep me safe, Gappa. You are a mighty wizard!”

He smiled softly. “Not for many years,child. Not for many years.”

Enkal’a looked around the Faydark with bright eyes, squealing with delight whenever she caught sight of a wisp or a drake. Ayenden marveled that even though their home in Kelethin was surrounded by magic and wonder she could still find something new and amazing every time they walked together in the forest.

They chatted for a while about school and what it was like for a Koada’Dal to grow up in a city inhabited largely by Fae. “It’s not fair,” she frowned. “The Fae kids can jump around and fall like feathers. Elves can’t.” He chuckled.

The evening breeze began to blow through the thick trees. “We will go a little further,” he told her, “but not too far. Just near the spires and back.”

“Gappa?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“The Fae kids were talking about our city/ The high elf city. How come we never walk there?”

Ayenden’s brow furrowed. “I haven’t gone there in many, many years, Child. Our people…they are not as they once were. We are much better off in Kelethin.”

“But why?” Her voice was innocent and honest.

“I’ll explain when you’re older, Child.”

She frowned and kicked at the ground, then perked up a moment later. “Tell me again how I got my name, Gappa!”

He looked wistfully toward the great spires ahead that rose up through the trees. “You are named after an old friend of mine that I lost long ago. Your mother loved to hear the stories of my friend Enkasha and the adventures we would have, so she named you after her.”

The little girl smiled. “She was a brave hero like you, Gappa?”

“Braver,” he answered. “Much braver.”

“Tell me more stories! More stories!” She blurted excitedly, bouncing as she walked.

“Alright, alright. Once upon a time my friend Enkasha and I..” he stopped abruptly.

Enka’la looked up at him. “Don’t stop, Gappa. We’re almost there!”

“The spires,” he said, his brow heavy again. “I sense something different about them. Not like they were long ago, but there is magic touching them once again.”

The spires stood just ahead. Near the base of one of the giant pedestals, Ayenden thought he saw a figure in a crimson robe. There was a brief flash of fire, then the figure was gone.

“What was that, Gappa?” Enka’la asked.

“Nothing,” he answered. “We must go now.”

He picked his great-granddaughter up off the ground and held her tight as he carried her back toward the city. The years melted away in his mind, his pace quickening.

She was quiet for a while. At last she spoke, “What does it mean, Gappa?”

“I don’t know, Child,” he answered, “I don’t know.

For the first time in a long while, he felt like a stranger in the forest. He hurried to the torches just ahead, thinking of old friends lost.

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