The Blessed City

As the sun sank behind the curtain of the mountains, fire-lit torches lit lined the city from all sides. Slowly, everyone gathered outside and made for the gathering hall. Strapping their bags to their backs, the three of them melted into the crowd.

To no surprise, the gathering hall was one of the larger buildings she had admired when they arrived. Children ran uncontrollably, nearly knocking her off her feet. If it weren't for Cam, she surely would have met the ground most ungraciously.

As they approached, Maleah noticed the hooded figure eyeing the crowd from the balcony. Narrowing her eyes, Maleah attempted to get a closer look but broke away when she was pushed forward by an eager man.

The hooded figure spotted her. Her simple aura drew their attention off the complacency of every other being in the city. They watched as the girl disappeared beneath her.

Inside, Maleah saw the stage first. Flanked by long longs cut from tree trunks, they lined the hall from front stage to ten feet before the door. Stumps and crates acted as additional seating. Warm fires crackled around the room, complementing the large pit in its center.

Shadows danced from the light. Moving around the stone circle, they appeared both majestic and dangerous. Flashes of the monsters from the borstal scorched her memory as she tore her eyes away from the flames.

Cam caught the longing gaze of the serving girl and bid them farewell before skirting his way to her.

"I should have figured," Rhys muttered. "He's such a dolt."

The hall filled quickly and before long a young boy took the stage. Standing several inches above the crowd, he raised his hands and the audience fell into silence. When he lowered his hands, the fires dimmed to an orange hue, casting an eternal ambiance over them all.

"Welcome," he began. "to an evening of treasured tales. It is with great pleasure that I welcome the king's most prized guest. She can spin a legend that will have you quivering in your trousers and make you believe the most folly of myths. Please welcome, the Storyteller!"

Applause burst through the crowd; boots rocked the ground with anticipation. Bowing, the boy extended his hands dramatically towards the balcony overhead.

The hooded figure stood confidently under the heavyweight of eager eyes. Lowering the hood, eyes as dark as night gazed evenly on the audience. Dark lips curved slightly under a petite nose. She glided across the balcony, down the stairs, and onto the stage where she bowed respectfully to the boy and handed him her cloak.

Her dress was brilliantly blue and overlaid with a brown leather bodice. Thick lines were etched into the bodice where fat straps wound up her body to frame her neck. A leather belt fashioned her plaited blue skirt under her bodice and molded her waist.

Patiently, she waited for the crowd to settle.

"Forget every story you have ever heard." Her voice was like velvet, it saturated the room. "Forget your lessons, forget your training. I urge you, purge your mind of all until it is empty. And let me fill it with a tale you shall never want to forget.

"Long ago, before time ever existed, the world was filled with cold and empty darkness. It was a womb for naught but a single star. Its light was so bright, so vibrant that its reach grew to know no bounds. But it waited. Waited for the day to rise and reach with golden hands to expand even further into the darkest eternity. Until, at last, the star burst. And in its grand reprieve, our world was created."

Maleah could not help herself. Her eyes did not waver from the Storyteller as she walked the stage. She didn't notice the shadows dance as they, too, told the story as it was told.

"How could a single star erupt so ferociously, you may be wondering. How could that single source of light born from darkness create a world so serene and robust as ours? Well that, my dear King's Men, is where our story truly begins."

The crowd gasped as the Storyteller tossed a fistfull of dirt into the air. Her face twisted as they watched in wonder as the dirt did not fall, but swirled over them. Each speck sparkled, replicated the stars in the sky.

"Life blossomed under the care of our Creator. Trees grew from grass greener than emeralds. Seas rose from rocky beds and eroded cliffs and islands. Everything we know today, from the beginning of our history to this day, began with a single thought from our Creator. Gardens of imagination filled the earth, birthing the cycles of life and death with every new species that sprouted from its pistil.

"From the gardens of Míle-Peitil grew flowers with a thousand petals. From their pollens, we were born. First, the elves. Their eternal lives are rooted in the wisdom of the stars and the earth. For they knew the language of land, sea, and stars. Then came the nymphs. These factions of elves were created to tend to the elements and support the evolutionary cycles of the land. Naiads for the waters; dryads to sow the earth; lomades sought to tame the fires, and the aurae sailed the skies.

Yet, their lives did not prove infinite. From their ashes sylphs, faeries, trolls, and brownies were born. Dwarves and ogres and night creatures were to come next, tending to the moon's cycles as the rest did for the day. Until, finally, humans breathed for the first time. Several thousand years later, mind you," she added, gaining a few laughs.

"Each race was given a purpose and soon the Creator left them to tend to the world that was gifted to them. Gone but not forgotten, the Creator observed life as it excelled beyond the limits of their own imagination. Listening to the lessons taught to the young and never intervening when relations became too sour to heal with words. For as long as life persisted so did free will.

"As part of their vow to never intervene, the Creator chose eight to watch over and guide their creations in times of peace and peril. Tasked with the responsibility, they were each given a gift. And so, the Gods of Eight were made. And from their new magic a new purpose was found. If only for a brief time."

The Storyteller cast a circle with her hand. Maleah watched as the flames grew and spread to the edges of the stone circle and the story came to life.

"Not two millenium after the Gods of Eight were chosen, did they disappear. Back to the stars or to dwell among the hallows of our land or seas. No one knows but them. In their absence, the world began to crumble. Storms grew bolder and the seas angry. Creatures ran amuck with an unquenchable need for destruction and chaos. Unprtoected, misguided and hopeless, we became lost. All this because the Gods of Eight abandoned us. All," she lifted a finger, "except one."

"For he who rises from the dark and claims himself king rose to save us from those who wish us harm. He who protects us from the forsaken. He who has vowed to defend us against the prophesized return of the greatest threat to the world. He searched the land for the Gods of Eight in a sworn oath to never allow them to destroy our peace again.

"As sworn King's Men, you know the words and the promise. Our King relies on you. Seek out the heathens born with magic that would dare claim your freedom obsolete. They hide among us still. Waiting for the day when war becomes imminent so that they can overtake our king and claim the world for their own."

Her eyes locked on Maleah's. She couldn't move. Something inside told her, the Storyteller knew she was not one of them. There was a knowing in her eyes.

"And so, the end is here and I leave you with these final words from the prophecy: when the Gods of Eight return, so shall the one true God rise again. Or, so it says."

On her final word, she tossed her hands into the air, and the dirt that had swirled coveted her. In its haze, she disappeared. When all settled, the audience jumped from their seats in adoration.

Maleah froze. Tiny bumps covered her skin, prickling her body in shivers. Her ears drummed and the sound of the crowd muffled. Her head swam but for a single thought: she knew that story.

Stumbling to her feet, she scanned the hall for the Storyteller. Everything inside her told her to find her. Having never felt such sureness, Maleah pushed her way out of the hall. Dashing around the stature, she turned in circles and peered desperately into the night. When she made the movements of a dark shadow, she pursued it. Following the cloaked figure to the edge of the village and up to an isolated house under a Glendalough tree.