Linda L Dunlap [Dunlap - The Reckoning

I f a discerning person searched long and hard, he might catch a glimpse of light bouncing off faery glass, or see a shape flit across shadows in the deep forest above the Mist River. A diligent watcher might even question faint angles and lines in the serene canvas created by age-gnarled trees. But only the very gifted stranger would ever guess that an entire civilization of people lived behind the peaceful faade of Pentara Wood.

Long, long ago, Ziglianor Pentara, the ancient grandfather of Eliandor, used elven magic and a long-lasting spell to conceal the myriad of domiciles built of river mud and polished stone within the trees. Diaphanous clouds daily cast shade and shadows upon ornate balconies trimmed in delicate, twisted gold and iron. The individual designs were so clever that anyone observing the finished work knew instantly they were made by elven crafters. These tucked-away magical rooms housed both elves and Qays, offering privacy and comfort to all who came and went from the sumptuous quarters inside.

Huge portals, also protected by magic, were blocked from the uninvited strangers entry, for although elves were not by nature unfriendly to their neighbors, after the battle with the witch Yahmara Cromcroft in the village of Parth, all curious souls were watched more carefully, for those inside the haven knew the worst was yet to come.

Messages of great evil had recently come to Lord Eliandor Pentara, the governing councilor of the western lands, and the overseer of Pentara Haven, and he wished it were not so, but all that had been foreseen by his ancient relatives appeared on the horizon as truth. Sometimes as he strode through the peaceful vales and deep forest of his family home, he searched for the serenity of the past, but deep in his heart, Eliandor knew what he must do before such a state was again possible.

His beloved mate, Illene, studied his face, and, seeing new lines etched in the corners of his kind eyes, felt compassion for his sadness. She, too, had read the prophecy of Ziglianor, and dreaded the all-out battle for their world, for they, like all other life, had everything to lose if evil controlled the world.

There was no more time, for the approach of the Spectre, and his attempts to rule the aboveground world would begin soon, and everyone and everything loved and valued was at risk. A more solemn couple could not be found, as the Pentaras contemplated what might lie ahead for them, their kin, and the rest of their world.

After the first week of safety in her grandparents home, Breanna Ascroft decided she liked her relatives quite a lot, especially her grandmother Illene, a beautiful lady who appeared no older than Mathena, Breannas mother. To keep her aged fingers flexible, Lady Illene wove baskets from straw, and decorated them with tiny, brilliantly colored, drilled river stones. Often she would begin one of her creations in the morning, only to be done before early tea. The result of her work was an exquisitely woven piece with an aura of magic about it.

One morning, in the early days after Breannas return from saving young Elida Vale from the black-hearted witch Yahmara, Illene presented her granddaughter with a new quiver for her red-fletched arrows. Decorated with the polished stones from beneath the falls, the basket and cap were woven from the thin, delicate grasses of Pentara Haven, and as Illene explained, they were only lightly spelled for staying dry during storms.

Wet arrows are not always true to the mark, the elven lady told Breanna with a wistful expression, remembering her youth when she was the best archer in her family. There is room for your fox if he tucks his head, she said with a smile.

Little Kit, the red fox, had grown to full size, although he would always be diminutive among his own kind. Each day, Breanna took him to see Elida, to let him smell her, and remember the girl who saved him from death. She also encouraged the young fox to visit the woodlands, and find friends, but the one time he went alone, a large brown bear frightened him away. Breanna sighed, thinking Kit believed he was the same type of creature as his two-legged friends.

Two full moons had passed since Elida first awakened from her deep sleep, but nothing had changed with the child. She was still frightened of those who had saved her, but she was happy when the fox was with her. The little girl remembered nothing about her old life, to include the long days of captivity at Parth after a giant Phoebus had carried her there in response to Yahmaras commands.

Breanna believed the witch had used the bird to taunt her, for at ten years old, she too had been similarly abducted by a giant carrion eater in the sky. Just one more reason to hate the witch had been added to Breannas list.

Sean, Elidas brother, preferred to stay away from his sister. The empty expression on her face when he spoke of home and their parents was too much for him to bear. A fly-and-locust-made demon had killed their father and mother in a grisly attack at their farm. The two children, along with Breanna, had escaped the horrific scene in their familys fishing boat amidst hunger, cold, and grief.

On a warm autumn morning as the Pentara household went about daily duties, Breanna left her completed tasks and walked near the waterfall. Her concern for her parents, Mathena and Lyman was foremost in her thoughts. Neither of the adult Ascrofts, nor any of the other six sisters, had arrived from Nore Mountain, and Breanna was anxious and saddened by the thought that perhaps they had changed their minds about relocating to Pentara Haven. Life in the hollow tree had been good when she was a child, but Breanna had no desire to live there again. Still, it was her parents home, and for centuries, they had been comfortable there. She, on the other hand, remembered the nearness of her neighbors and the lack of privacy within the crowded cottages, even though she was taken out from under their noses one summer night.

That Ely Vingus, the leader of the two abductors who had stolen her away, kept his plans close enough to accomplish the deed, was definite proof both he and his friend Tam Teeple had been protected by witchcraft. No other explanation would do in the too-close community, and even after the two confessed they must have done the crime, none could imagine how the foul deed had been accomplished without waking the others, especially the girls parents.

Although Breanna had only been ten years old at the time of her kidnapping, she still recalled with horrified clarity her flight in the grasp of the giant, red-eyed Phoebus.

About an hour after early teatime, several days later, an elven sentry arrived with a message for the councilor, and both Eliandor and Illene retired to their rooms afterward. Breanna caught a glimpse of her elderly grandparents dancing to the music of lutes performed by musicians on the main balcony. She was curious, for a great deal was always required to heighten Eliandors moods. Accustomed to his stoic acceptance of nature, she cherished a hope of someday being able to emulate his behavior, and find peace in her world. Thus, she became more and more curious as the hours passed and her grandfathers face remained lit by anticipation.