Enok drew the small hunting knife from his belt and positioned himself protectively in front of Muriel. One of the cloaked figures took a step forward and, with a powerful voice, said:
«In the names of the stars and Selemon, what are you strangers doing in this accursed place? Don't you know that the realm of shadow spirits is deadly for all living creatures?»
Enok and Muriel stared at each other in dismay. Was it true? Had they really gone so wrong with the path? Muriel felt the fear raising the hair on her neck, thinking about what would have happened if they didn't have the magical necklace, the Godstone.
Enok glared at the cloaked figures. Due to their words, he understood that they must be living beings, not dangerous spirits as he initially thought. However, he remained uneasy.
The harsh journey and the encounter with the dreadful shadow spirits had made him distrustful of everyone. As the strangers surrounded them in silence, Enok felt filled with hopelessness. Who were they? Were they simple forest bandits intending to kill them?
The old man was desperate about how this would unfold, not just for his sake but mostly for the two innocents he had in his care - Muriel and her little son.
«Who are you, and what do you want from us?» he asked as firmly as he could to the strangers. Muriel rose on unsteady legs.
«They are elves,» she whispered hoarsely.
«Yes, we are elves,» replied the leader of the cloaked figures.
He pushed back his hood. The others did the same. Enok's gray eyes widened in surprise as he saw the faces of the strangers. So beautiful So noble!
Enok shifted his gaze back to the leader of the elves. He was young and beautiful, like a star. His hair shimmered silver, and a light of nobility shone over his entire handsome face.
Around his forehead, the elf wore a crown made of silver leaves, and his eyes were as clear as a forest pond.
The elf stared at the two humans.
«I am Delar, son of Lysandrion, ruler of Alvheim. And I repeat: Who are you?»
«I am Enok Arnsson,» replied the old servant. «I am in the service of King Åne of Highland. My lady and I are fleeing from the evil Botan, noble sir.»
Enok gestured toward Muriel, who stood leaning against a tree. «For these two innocents and for all sons and daughters of Vanaheim, have mercy on us!»
The elves remained silent. Delar lowered his sword.
Enok was so tired. The challenging journey and the encounter with the shadow spirits had drained his strength. He staggered, and as he sank from exhaustion, he brushed against Delar's cloak.
The elf recoiled. He lifted his sword, and the shiny blade barely grazed Enok's cheek. Delar had calculated the distance so that the razor-sharp steel wouldn't hit. With the sword at Enok's throat, he stared coldly at the old man.
«In these wolf times, no one is safe. How can we know that you speak the truth and that you are not Botan's spies? The cunning king of Trarg is not above sending 'innocent' people to spy for him.»
Then Muriel approached them. She stood next to the distraught servant, placing one hand on his shoulder.
«Calm down, my friend. I understand them.»
Muriel looked up at the stern elves. «Gentlemen, you have every right to be suspicious. These are hard times. Faith and hope and trust disappear quickly in the hateful sea of war. But I swear by all that is holy that we are here with honest intentions. My friend is right. We seek to approach the elven king Lysandrion to ask for his help. But if you don't believe my word, you might as well kill me, but spare my son and my friend. I would rather die in freedom than live a wretched life as Botan's slave.»
Delar lowered his sword, and as he stood contemplating what to do, he suddenly became aware of something else.
His gaze fell on Muriel's little son and on the white stone the child wore around his neck. He froze. And for a brief moment, he looked surprised at the child and then at Muriel.
«O'brahami! (O'gods!)» he exclaimed in his own language, and with a quick motion, he knelt before her. The others in his retinue stood utterly confused for a moment, but then they also noticed the little boy's necklace, and they all gasped in amazement.
«Aham ye tamas kiri tim! Brahamitim!» (It is the holy stone! The godstone!)
They knelt and bowed their heads respectfully. The leader stood up and sheathed his sword, then looked back at the woman and asked in a low voice:
«Who are you?»
Muriel straightened up to her full height and with a gentle movement, she removed her hood, revealing her face.
«I am Muriel. The wife of Count Agne of Vingulmark and the daughter of Alrek, the king of Hvitmark.»
She extended one hand, adorned with two precious rings. One was crafted from thin gold threads, shaped like a dragon, while the other bore the emblem of a blue eagle. Symbols of the royal families of Hvitmark and Vingulmark.
Delar bowed to Muriel, and as he straightened up, his voice was no longer as cold.
«I believe you. Even in the realms of elves, we have heard of the chosen one, the bearer of the holy godstone. Forgive us, my lady, for being so dismissive. But, as you said, these are hard times. It's becoming increasingly rare for us to trust anyone other than ourselves. But now, thanks to the gods, the first part of the divine prophecy has been fulfilled. The chosen one is born. The flame of hope has been kindled, and it shall burn across all of Vanaheim. Honored lady, both the Count of Vingulmark and King Alrek of Hvitmark were true friends to my people. Their nobility and wisdom are widely known, and their names are held in honor in all elven lands. Come, I shall send a message to the king of Alvheim, and we shall see what he commands.»
