The Twilight Elf

Chapter 2: A Court of Elves

Enya awoke to the smell of wet earth and musty leaves in a place she did not recognize.

She sat in a chair formed out of a gnarled stump. Floating wisps of orange fire barely illuminated the large room. The floor consisted of dark wet soil while the wooden walls rose to form a dome above her.

“Where am I?" she asked the darkness.

“In the Elven Court of the East," said a voice from the shadows.

She recognized the timbre immediately and a heavy dread filled the pit of her stomach. The orange wisps tripled in size, bathing the room in firelight.

On the walls above her, wooden chairs stood attached to the ceiling. There were nine in total circling above her and in each sat an impossibly beautiful older looking person with the same pointy ears as before.

“You!" Enya said.

She tried to leap to her feet but almost fell to the ground from the lack of strength in her legs.

“Your strength will return but slowly. More than enough time for your trial to commence," said the man in the highest chair directly in front of her.

It was Father Theron or whatever his real name was. Oh god. Was Jeremy okay? Last she'd seen he'd been struck to the ground by theron, and then there was talk of burning the church.

“Where is Jeremy? What happened to everyone else?" Enya asked, struggling to right herself.

“They be no concern of yours. You have more than enough of your own troubles to tend to now, young twilight elf," said one of the elves to her right.

This one was frightfully tall and laughed at the danger she was in.

“Elves. You said the same thing when you kidnapped me. You said I had Elven blood. What does that mean?" she asked, clutching the vine-like chair for stability but holding her head high.

But she suspected that she knew what it meant. She knew what a dream felt like and this was no dream. The creatures before her were real and if that was true, then what they said about her must be real as well.

Was she some kind of elf?

“High Advisor, Slavick, will be the one asking questions of you, not the other way around. You will avert your eyes at once!" snapped one of the nine, a woman with blonde hair and prominent cheekbones.

“Do not worry yourself, Allana. She is merely attempting to cause confusion. Child, you know good and well who we are and we know you. A betrayer, a dirty halfling, a king killer," Slavick said.

“What're you talking about?" Enya asked in exasperation.

“Two sunsets past our king was killed and you his assassin. The prophecy foretold it," said Alanna.

“And I witnessed you escaping the castle in the dead of night," Slavick said.

He folded his hands in front of him. The way his leering look crawled over Enya made her sick.

“I have no idea what you're talking about. Two nights ago I was at my bachelorette party. I wasn't going about killing people."

“The prophecy would state otherwise," said Allana.

She reached her hand into the air and incanted, “Apparata Fortunice"

A strange mist began to appear in front of Enya, pulsing with multiple colors like a club rave. From the mist came a large scroll, as tall as her, that opened up to reveal strange wording much like the chanting she'd heard.

But Enya didn't need to understand the language to know why they suspected her. Because beside the words was a painting of a woman. A woman who bore her resemblance perfectly.

“It is this court's duty to fulfill your punishment which in accordance with our laws is death. Your death will be observed by dawn, your means of execution, burned alive," Theron said.

A precise and sharp fear ran down Enya's arms and legs like tiny needles.

“You said this was a courtroom. If that's the case then there should be a trial," Enya shouted to the thrones above.

“She's right," echoed a voice behind her.

She turned to find a tornado of leaves being drawn up from the floor. When the tornado dissipated, in its stead was another Elf. This one appeared far younger than the others.

He had golden hair that hung to his shoulders, fair skin, and brilliant jade eyes. The lines of his face were sharp and his jaw cut like it was made of marble.

Enya almost laughed out loud thinking about what Jeremy would have said about him.

“Oh there's those popstar looks you like so much," Jeremy would have teased.

Jeremy's shape was more round as opposed to angular. His broad shoulders and soft facial features made him feel safe and sturdy.

They were both attractive looks to Enya, but completely opposite kinds of attractive. To her it was like comparing the beauty of the mountains with the ocean. Both were majestic and breathtaking but they felt nothing alike.

“Your majesty," said the elves from their chairs, each bobbing their head downard.

Majesty? That must mean this is the dead king's son.

“Slavick. Why was I not informed you had captured her?" the Elven king said.

Slavick.

Now Enya had her nightmare's name. He adjusted his seating position and gestured toward the Elven king.

“You were grieving, sire. I did not wish to disturb you while you were with your father. This is nothing the court can't tend to. There is no need to bother yourself with this if you don't wish to," Slavick said.

“I do wish too," the young elven king said and turned to stare into Enya's eyes.

The hate inside his irises burned so fiercely that Enya took an instinctive step backwards.

“I wish to oversee every aspect of her punishment. My father's killer should have to answer to me as well as to the court."

Slavick leaned back after hearing this and bowed his head again toward the new king.

“Of course, sire."

The king's eyes were still upon her and he began to circle around her. She circled with him wanting nothing less than to face her back to him.

“How do you plead?"

“Not guilty."

The elve's green eyes narrowed at her.

“So you deny any involvement with the murder of my father, the late king of East Castle?"

Enya hardened her voice, willing him to hear and believe her.

“I promise you. I didn't kill your dad. I've never killed anyone."

He stopped then, bringing their short dance to an end and turned away from her for the first time to look at Slavick.

“I want a truth potion brought to the courtroom."

“I see no need for that, sire. I witnessed her fleeing your father's room last night."

“I know, but my father never condemned someone without first admitting a truth potion to them. I won't squander his memory simply because my grief has me enraged."

Many of the elves muttered their agreement. Some even praised the young king for his clarity of mind. Enya did too, though quietly inside her mind. She couldn't say she would have done the same thing were she in his position.

“I commend you for wanting to keep your father's wishes, but we don't know how dangerous this twilight elf is. I think it best to make our decision promptly, sire, and eradicate the threat before it does our kingdom any more harm," Slavick said.

The king turned back to her and approached. He came closer and closer until he was mere inches from her face.

“I swear on my father's grave. Should she try anything, I'll kill her myself."

Enya felt a warm rush of air and looked down to find a long sword had appeared in the king's hand. The blade was clear, as if it were made of water or glass. Whatever it was made of, it bore as much threat to her as a regular sword, she knew that much.

Enya looked up from the blade and back into the gorgeous but violent eyes of the king and said, “I'll take it. If it makes you tell the truth then it will prove to you I'm not your killer. I promise you, you have the wrong girl."

The king's gaze wavered, his brows knitting together to create small creases on his forehead. She suspected he must have been surprised by her willingness, considering how much he and everyone else here believed she was the culprit.

“You heard the prisoner. Bring the potion," The king said and stepped away so that he was standing behind her.

Slavick leaned back in his chair, stroking his white beard that came to a point at the bottom of his chin.

“As you wish, sire, but I'd warn everyone, we don't know anything about Twilight bloodline. It could be that truth potions don't work on them."

Slavick pointed at one of the other elves. They held a small book in their hands that looked as if it were bound in green leaves. The pen in their hand wasn't a pen at all but a normal looking twig.

“At once, High Councilor," said the elf.

They scribbled something down, tore the page from their book and threw it into the air. The page immediately folded itself into the shape of a bird and flew into the top of the dome, disappearing into it.

Everyone in the room waited silent and still for a small moment. Enya was tempted to say something but didn't want to put herself in any further trouble. A truth potion should be the answer to her problems.

“If the potion reveals I'm telling the truth, will you let me go?" Enya asked the king.

He tilted his head in utter confusion.

“Of course."

Above them they hear a small sound like something being dropped in a puddle. A vial, small and filled with a luminescent green liquid gently floated down from the top of the dome.

It came down to the center of the floor where Enya and the King stood. He took it, vial in one hand and sword in the other.

“So do I just drink it and you ask me questions?" Enya asked.

It occurred to her that maybe she was speaking too much for the situation she was in, but she was nervous, and at least saying something made her feel she had some control in what was going on.

“Yes. You will drink. I will ask you a series of questions, quick ones, and the magic will compel you to tell the truth," the king said.

“That is if you are not somehow immune," Slavick chimed in from his lofty perch.

The king raised his palm behind him to silence the old buzzard which Enya greatly appreciated.

“Drink," he said, handing the vial to her.

Enya took it and studied the swirling green liquid. All around her, the seated elves sneered and stared down at her with contempt. They wanted her to fail. To drink and implicate herself of crime she didn't commit.

“Drink. If you're telling the truth, I promise I'll let you leave here unharmed," the king said.

Enya searched his face for any sign of trickery but found none. For all the severity of his earlier threat, this was the one person in this entire room she felt she could trust.

She drank.