The elves didn't clear the ground like most people do. There were paths wide enough for carts and horses, but most of the city was covered with trees, scrub, and bushes. I had to push aside some stray branches that stuck out into the road.
As we made our way towards the center of the city, people smiled and waved at my elven companions. Their bright faces sagged and dropped when they saw the injured Demay. When they noticed me, the older elves whispered amongst themselves. I found that strange, because humans go regularly into Sharald for business and sightseeing. Unlike some other races, they didn't close their borders to outsiders. I put my hood up, trying to hide my face from the elves’ scrutiny, though their looks weren't ones of malice or anger. I couldn't tell what it was, but they wouldn't stop looking or whispering.
Some of the elves I saw looked exhausted, wearing bandages or slings. Others were at work making arrows, and we passed an open space where a group practiced with their bows, faces intense as they hit their targets.
The children ran freely through the city, playing with other children or with animals. There were many animals, and none of them had restraints. Deer, rabbits, and raccoons moved among the elves, unafraid. They even held still while the children fed or petted them, though most of them shied away when I came near. I knew that elves never harmed an animal unless they had to, but I hadn’t realized they lived in such harmony with the forest creatures. I had never seen such a thing.
We finally reached the center of the city, where the king’s palace lay. The aura of the ancient building nearly forced me to my knees. Green mana radiated from it. The magic was ancient and very powerful, thumping with every breath I took. It felt like the heart of the forest. I relaxed, trying not to fight it. I let the magic flow around me so I wouldn't be crushed by it. When I did that, I saw what normal people did.
The castle wasn't in the trees like most of the other structures, but it was part of them. Hardened vines and trunks made up a gigantic dome. There wasn't a hint of decay or withering anywhere. The combination of different plants was far more wondrous than I could have imagined. They composed a beautiful chorus, producing a harmony so lovely my heart understood it even while my head didn’t.
I shook off the wonderment and followed Prastian and Behast inside.
People came and carried Demay away. Others led us down a long corridor and into the audience chamber. The inside of the dome was just as strange as I’d thought it would be. The vines had hardened so much that they were like stone. There were no insects or holes in the walls. The magic was ingrained in the structure, keeping everything perfectly preserved.
In the audience chamber, the first thing that caught my eye, besides the emerald throne, were the paintings. Dozens of them surrounded us.
I walked around, taking them in. It was like walking through time. Most of the portraits showed the elven family tree, starting with Sharald. The family tree wasn’t long, because elves live longer than humans and don’t have as many children. I stopped at one of the last paintings, amazed. It was a portrait of a young elf and what appeared to be a young Master Stradus. He had the same sky-colored robes and wise smile, but I couldn’t tell if it was him. He looked so youthful and was without his staff.
With all my gawking and the fact that I was dead tired from being up all night, I didn’t notice the ruler of the elves come in. Prastian cleared his throat, and I looked up to see an elf of great stature with long, dark green robes, sitting on the emerald throne. His wrinkly, pale green skin, along with the way his ears drooped down, betrayed his years. I’d noticed that the younger elves’ ears pointed up. The older they got, the lower their ears became, as if to signal their return to the earth. The elf king smiled at me.
“Hello, Your Majesty,” Prastian said, and knelt. Behast and I followed suit.
“I’m glad to see you’ve returned, dear cousin,” the king said. “I was worried what would become of you. Don’t fear; my best healers are working on Demay as we speak. I wouldn’t let anything happen to family.” His wise, light green eyes turned on me. “I see you’ve brought a guest.”
“Forgive me, Majesty. This is Hellsfire. He helped us defeat the ogres that troubled the area. Hellsfire, this is our king, Sharald.”
“Majesty,” I said. My eyes darted from him to the paintings as I tried to suppress my confusion. I had read of the great Sharald, but he had died many years ago, not too long after he established the city. This elf, while having similar features, didn’t look like the one in the portrait.
King Sharald laughed. “Please, Hellsfire, call me Sharald. Everyone does. I am actually Sharald the Fourth, descendant of the great Sharald. Rest easy. I saw the look of surprise on your face. I must say I take great pleasure when people think I’m him.”