A Spark in the Wind

Chapter 15: Legacy of a Hero

At first Mey used to think he could never get used to the high-elven way of life: thousands of people living together in densely packed cities, working in factories all day and night. But now that he saw it, it wasn't half bad.

He rode through a labyrinth of white houses connected by a network of cobblestone roads and concrete aqueducts, sunlight glinting off the orange rooftops to cast fractured shadows on the walls.

Some walls lay beneath a bulwark of vines, most had flower pots on their windowsills, jollily dancing in the passing winds. Banners of the House of Alinor fluttered high in the wind, the golden star on a field of red dancing with the melody of the many anthems of the state.

"Hey, this isn't so bad," said Mey, immersing himself in the glory that was this metropolis.

"Not bad at all, eh?" smiled Vil, "soon you'll get choked and want to return, I guarantee that."

"Was that an innuendo?"

"No, city air isn't that clean, not everyone can enjoy it."

"Oh," Mey shook his head, "so where are we going?"

"My friend from the southern lands gave us a gift; it's a weapon – a weapon that would turn the tide of battle, a weapon that will let us wade through the enemy like water through sand, a weapon whose mere presence would rout even the greatest daemons."

"Wow," Mey shook his head, "so what kind of weapon is this?"

"You'll see when you get there," said Vil, spurring his horse to travel faster. At times it was difficult to understand Vilyánur, other times understanding was simply not enough, or so Mey thought as he noticed how they entered the stables.

At first it sounded like the blast of a trumpet, then like the grunting of a horse, and then some noise entirely different.

And Mey was afraid; he didn't know what to make of it: the beast roughly resembled a boar, but if boars were thrice as tall as a normal person, clad in grey hide, two tusks as long as pikes, great ears flapping like fans, and a nose that danced around like a snake.

Mey took shelter behind Vil, but Vil seemed unafraid, as if he trusted the beast. No, in fact he was smiling. The beast approached them, walking fast but still as silently as an assassin, its long nose extended forwards for them.

"They're called elephants," said Vil, grabbing the creature's trunk and resting it on his shoulders. "Do not be afraid, they're gentle giants."

Mey still hid behind, afraid to make a move, but the elephant didn't either.

"Come on," Vil pulled Mey towards the elephant, burying his terrified eyes in his chest, only his instincts and love for Vil driving him. With a gentle tug Vil extended Mey's hand and placed it on the beast: its tough yet smooth skin.

"Aw, he likes you," Vil reassured, "do not fear, they're as sentient as you and me. They may not speak, but they can understand your speech, and understand your emotions."

Mey was still afraid, but a part of him told him not to be. This beast might've been a big bull, but he seemed gentler than the tamest stallion he had ever touched. Yet it might take a while before he got used to it.

"You know why we imported them?" asked Vil, "not only because they are charging fortresses, but mostly because they are immune to chaos."

"Immune to chaos?"

"Aye, even dragons may get tainted and maddened by the power of chaos, but elephants never falter. Even if they die, the enemy can spend their greatest powers but they cannot raise these beasts: these beasts and hyraxes."