A bridge to cross where fairies live. But is not of brick or stone. To Undulhava the key is held by elf alone.

Dwarven Child Rhyme

An arrow with white fletching sunk into the dirt road before the lead horse ridden by Gregory. His sword readied in a flash, the king's man-at-arms searched around, unable to discern where it had come from. Dropping from his mount, he bent down to examine and retrieve the projectile.

As the rest of the convoy ground to an abrupt stop, Anthony bolted out of the carriage. "Stop!" he cried. "Don't touch it!" Gregory regarded the one-eyed man as he ran up to make certain the command was adhered to.

Reane left the saddle of her horse as well. "This is weird," she complained, concentrating. The arrow had been shot by someone somewhere nearby. "I don't sense... err... don't see anyone." Reane caught herself, as she almost gave away a hint that she could do more than detect others by the normal five senses.

Anthony brushed back Gregory, who was still uncertain about how to respond to the what seemed more like a warming than an actual attack. "They're watching. Seeing how we react."

"Who?" Reane continued to try to find any sign of anyone else other than the members of the contingent in the nearby area.

"Elves. Remember what I told you?" Anthony gave Reane a sly and subtle reminder of his claim regarding his people and their resistance to magics of the mind. The same reason she had trouble reading his thoughts. He picked the arrow from the ground with care. Laying it across the path before stepping back, he too checked the woods that surrounded the trail for any signs, but saw none.

There was a long moment of silence before a second arrow, like the first, implanted at Anthony's feet. He did not even flinch, but Reane;s heart jumped. Gregory took up a defensive stance, sword brandished. Anthony tried to relax him with a wave from his hand. It helped only a little and certainly did nothing to ease theswordmaster's anxiety.

"Who enters these sacred woods?" a voice commanded.

Anthony replied on behalf of them all. "Ambassador Stormband from the Isles of Fimmirra! The Child of the Storm has come to speak with the Elven Council of Houses! And she seeks an audience with the one known as Aval El'brim - The Keeper of Light."

Silence was the initial response. But then the voice spoke again, "The Child of the Storm is dead. The end of the world draws near. Darkness is coming. The Council of Houses does not need to hear your lies."

The coldness of the reply froze Sheala as she was just beginning to emerge from the carriage. Crawling up inside her was a remembrance to the day she and Cass had found the bloody massacre of her parents and the fate of the previous caravan that had traveled on this same mission.

A warmth permeating her medallion startled her. It was now alive and pulsing. Just like it used to be when her sister was nearby and filling Sheala with hope. Was Cass here? She didn't know what to think and turned her head this way and that as she searched all around her.

The voice then manifested its presence once more. "Be gone, trespassers. Turn back now, and your lives will be spared."

Anthony clarified for the sake of their unseen host. "The daughter of the former ambassador has come to take his place at the table."

"There were no survivors."

"No!" Sheala called, hurrying to the front of everyone and pushing in front of Anthony. Her fingers played with the medallion, massaging it against her skin. The warmth was a distraction to her.

"Ambassador, get back!" Anthony's attempt was in vain as she sloughed him off.

A third arrow at Sheala's feet stopped her advance, but she didn't recoil at its appearance. She stared in the direction from which the shot had originated. Although she saw nobody, her calculating eyes sized up the invisible threat. Focusing on a particular branch high above to her left, one at the perfect angle to have launched the arrow, her eyes creased.

"Cowards!" she taunted. "Show yourselves! I didn't come all this way for nothing! Where's my sister? Is she here?" Even as the resolve in her voice grew, the only response was the rustling wind through the branches of the trees. "I am Sheala Stormband, daughter of Aurthur Stormband, Ambassador to the Elven Kingdoms! You will let me pass!"

Out of the nothing, and on the very branch she had singled out, a slender form appeared as it pulled back the hood of his cloak. Sheala winced at the suddenness of someone being where they had not been a moment before.

The man was tall and slim, his dark green clothes blending in to his surroundings. Blond hair covered his pointed ears that only slightly poked through the strands, and his eyes were large and blue like the sky. They seemed capable of reading her very intensions. In his bow, which he held with unwavering poise at Sheala, another arrow was on the string, but not pulled back.

"Prove what you say," he spoke with the same voice that all had heard come from the nothingness before.

Anthony silenced her as the ambassador was about to speak. "No. Only liars and thieves need to prove their words to be true."

Several other elves began to dissolve into being, revealing that the contingent from Fimmirra was surrounded. The first elf looked into Sheala's eyes. She felt herself wanting to look away, but could not.

"Then this one has much to prove." He spoke so bluntly that his statement was bitter and icy. "Is that not right? She has a checkered past. Before I take your words at value, proof is indeed in order."

Sheala gave a frantic glance back, not sure how to respond. Her first thought was to seek out to Reane for help, but her friend shrugged in a most unhelpful manner.

Reane had concerns of her own. Now that she could see the enemy, she knew they were there, but still could sense nothing from their minds. And that meant what Anthony had told her was correct, and she was at a distinct disadvantage that unnerved her.

Sheala was startled as the medallion about her neck began to warm even further. Then another voice laced with feminine tones called from above. "She is who she claims to be."

Looking up, all could see the narrow form of a silver-haired woman perched about twenty feet up in yet a different tree. Her midnight blue cloak that fluttered around her and the glint off the handle of the razor thin sword at her side reflected the bits of light sneaking through the canopy.

The sight perplexed Sheala since Anthony had just completed a lesson with her in which he claimed that elven women were forbidden to carry weapons of any sort.

Jumping into the air, the elf woman vanished, only to reappear just inches off the ground. Her feet landed with a softness that should not have been possible after leaping from such a height. She touched the silver disk, like Sheala's own, hanging on her neck.

"Where d'you get that?" Sheala spoke out of surprise upon seeing such. There were only two of these item she knew of. So if this woman possessed one, it meant either she had gotten it from her sister or there were more.

"A gift. From my mother and from her mother before her dating back several hundred years. To the time of the fall of Hitithe. It is a sacred relic of times long past, and times still to come. It is a sign of hope that has many powers. And when three become one, the darkness consuming the lands shall pass."

The first elven man to reveal himself unnotched his arrow, and so did the others surrounding them. Even more elves began to appear in the trees and on the ground, and all materializing out of thin air.

"Your coming has been foretold for many years," the silver-haired elf continued. She looked not much older than Sheala, but for the elves, as Anthony had informed her, their average lifespan was about a decade longer than that of humans. "I must apologize for the actions of my people. They are only doing their duty. With Lord Hedric's ships blockading our ports, and his troops testing our inland borders, it is only a matter of time before he tries to march on these words that are our home." She bowed. "I am Sayra of the House of Tynara and am First Daughter. My mother is the one you seek, the Aval El'brim."

*Curtsey.* Reane's voice was firm in Sheala's mind.

*What?* The former thief was transfixed on Sayra as the elf started to rise.

*Be polite!*

"There is no need for that," the First Daughter spoke out loud. "Communicate secretly. I mean."

Reane gasped, and Sheala's jaw dropped at the comments. But, rather that ask questions, Sheala grabbed up the folds of her dress and, albeit awkwardly, did as Reane requested despite feeling her balance almost leave her. "I am Sheala Stormband, Ambassador of King Turon." There was a forced regal ring in her voice.

Sayra looked to the elven man with golden hair. "Esse, send word to Ittan's father that the Child of the Storm has arrived. Please ask my mother to convene the Council of Houses at once."

"Teyfa doa sany," Esse spoke in a tongue than those not of elven descent could understand and to confirm that it would be done. Sayra nodded in acceptance and then Esse disappeared back into the air.

Sheala shook her head in amazement. "How do you do that?"

Sayra smiled. "As kinfolk to the fairies, we may access Undulhava, their home. We use their world to transverse distances quickly, to escape from danger, and also to hide. All that is needed is a link. Our cloaks, for example." Sayra held out the end of hers. "They are enchanted with Elven magic born from that connection and therefore provide the required binding."

Reane, who had come over to stand next to Sheala, reached out to touch the fabric of Sayra's cloak and feel its soft texture. Sayra at first was annoyed, but allowed her to.

"Amazing," Reane muttered. "People would pay a high price for such items."

Sayra pulled the cloak from Reane's fingers and turned away. "Such items are not for the other races of this world," she snapped. "Faries are very particular about who they allow to enter their lands. Other races are impure and would taint their realm should they enter."

Anthony came over to join in the conversation. "Please, Reane. This is a diplomatic mission. We're not here to turn profits."

Reane realized that what she had done displeased him. She did not want that. Not after all she had accomplished with him.

Sayra then spoke to Anthony. "I sense that there is elven lineage in your blood. From the moment I first saw you Anthear Nador."

After an initial shock, Anthony queried with a renewed politeness. "Wait, how do you know my name? And not the name I go by, but my given name?"

"Yes," Reane chimed in. "How?" And then looked at him, "Anthear?"

Sayra continued to look away. "The blood in your veins is that of a long unseen family line. One that died with Lord Hedric's invasions of our outer most borders hundreds of years ago." Her voice contained a somber undertone. "Things that are hidden to most are not to me. The fairies tell me of such things. As the first daughter of the House of Tynara, it is my blessing to be the one with whom the fairies speak." Pulling her cloak about her, she vanished out of existence. Then her disembodied voice added, "My people will lead you through the forest and safely to our borders."