• Legends of Eterra

    CHAPTER II: Beyond Earth

    Ellenore awoke with a jolt.

    The first thought that traveled across her mind was that she was not in her bed despite what her wardrobe might’ve suggested, but on a bed of grass. There was a pungent smell that filled her nostrils as she laid there, on her stomach, head turned to the side. The smell of wet grass, something that was familiar to her. It was dark, still night, or maybe early morning one might presume. With a small moan and with every bit of strength left in her body, Ellenore commanded her body to move. She lifted herself up, legs curling from in back and coming in front so she could sit up right and observe her surroundings.

    The trees, the bushes, the plants…everything was shrouded in the darkness of the night, but Ellenore couldn’t remember the last time she saw a forest in Albion; or even the colorful flowers on the bushes that surrounded the clearing she found herself in. She looked upward. The canopy of trees offered a small opening above her so she could pear into the night sky, which was as clear as day, the stars twinkling brightly. The faint glow of something behind the trees – the moon, Ellenore hoped – lit up the night sky faintly, only offering the smallest of visibility around her.

    There were creeks, chirps, and several series of clicks. Were they bugs? Ellenore didn’t know – she had never heard a cricket make a clicking sound before. Upon further examination, Elle spotted something curious; a small bug, which she mistook for a firefly, flew towards her, spreading its wings to glide. It’s wings, she noted, were of a design that was so intricate, and colors that were so vibrant. Oklahoma didn’t have anything outside of spiders, mosquitoes, or moths. This insect, however, flapped it’s wings once or twice, gracefully, like that of a bird, and landed it’s long, centipede like body on the hand that clutched the pendant. Elle’s eyes followed the intricate insect to her hand. She lifted it carefully, pendant still within her grip, and carefully examined the butterfly like creature. The wings were glowing a bright, fluorescent pink, that turned to a vibrant red, and a cool, royal blue before changing into a bright yellow and lifting itself into the night air, flying away.

    Elle’s attention was turned to the pendant.

    She had completely forgot she had it. It drew back to the past events – what had happened? Elle held her forehead with her other palm.

    The storm…she thought, drawing the events together, It’s a miracle I’m alive. That tornado pulled me up and spat me out a few miles down the road I bet. I can’t believe…I can’t believe I’m still alive.

    Elle pulled herself to her feet. Her tank top and her plaid pajama bottoms were soiled with dirt and grease, and her face had traces of dirt on it as well. Her hair was disheveled, as one would expect after being swept up in a violent tornado. Ellenore had a better look at the forest; it didn’t show any sign of an exit, only an endless path around her. With one glance at the pendant, she twirled around.

    The glowing butterflies with the centipede bodies were dancing above her in a line, following one another, twirling around in a pattern, but never breaking their strict formation. They changed colors as the happily fluttered into the still, night air, and into the bushes.

    Where am I…?

    Elle followed the trail of glowing insects; they were her only lighted path. As she walked through the dense, thick wood, she found herself climbing over large roots, tripping over some, and climbing through thick brush. The line of lights that the bugs created steadily trailed along, as if waiting for Ellenore to catch up, and falling back when she was far behind. Their light was shining down on bushes with colorful flowers and their buds, life forms that Elle had never seen before in her life, let alone in Albion.

    The chirps and the clicks slowly morphed into a fluttered, multi-toned cooing that sounded like a series of owls serenading each other in the dead of night from rooftop to rooftop. They echoed one another and invoked other night sounds to join their early morning chorus; something Elle was not familiar with. She found herself tripping even more over vines and plants of the like; it was hard to see anything when it was this dark, surrounding by tall trees that blocked out any light.

    If I keep walking, Elle reassured herself, I’m bound to find something I recognize…

    The bugs twirled and danced just above Elle’s head. Curiously, she followed their trails instead of where she was going and stopped for a minute to look at their intricate pattern of flight. In the same minute that she stopped, there was a rustling noise, followed by collective laughter in unison with several hoofs stomping the ground, the silence of the forest immediately broken. The sounds of the hoofs and the noises coming from within the forest scared the glowing bugs; their ethereal light disappeared and their strict flight pattern broke away into a series of frantic flutters, essentially dissolving into the dense wood. Three horses emerged behind Elle, who turned around to look.

    There, seated upon the horses, were three, large, burly men were riding on each one. They were all very tan; it was apparent to Elle that they were out in the sun a lot. Farmers in Albion were also tan for the same reason, but these men didn’t look like farmers, at least not to Elle. She turned around to face him, and their laughter came to a sudden stop, and their lips formed frowns. They all looked at each other and back at Elle, who was significantly smaller than their muscular forms. Elle’s lips parted to say something, but she was interrupted.

    “Who the hell are you?” the one on the right rudely spat. Elle cringed somewhat at his words. They were accusatory, demeaning; it wasn’t a question, it was more of a demand. Elle inhaled to answer, but he cut her off again, “a little late to be wandering around at this hour, huh, little girl?”

    Elle didn’t respond. Her head drew back, as though she were guilty of something she didn’t do.

    “W-Weren’t you in the storm?” Elle asked, her voice several octives higher than his, “it’s moved on now, but there was a tornado that touched down here. I-I got swept away in it, and it must have carried me all the way here. I don’t know how far it carried me, though. Am I-Am I-Is this still in Oklahoma?” came her meek reply.

    Her series of sentences were met with a confused silence as the men exchanged glances with one another. Their stern frowns became knowing, mischievous smiles.

    “Yeah, your still in Oh-kula-hoema,” the one in the middle mimicked her pronunciation, “we even know where your parents are, too!”

    “R-Really? I haven’t seen you around in Albion, you must be from Muskogee or something, right?” she replied. These men, however, didn’t look like they were from Oklahoma. In fact, Elle noted, they didn’t even look like they were from the United States.

    “M-Musko-Musko-gee?” the middle one answered, “M-Musko-of course! Of course!” his confusion turned into affirmation as he looked at his friends, “Muskogee, right, guys?” they nodded in agreement, chiming in nods and sounds of agreement. Elle fell silent.

    “You don’t sound like your from Oklahoma,” Elle mumbled, “Are you sure-“

    “Tell ya what,” the middle one stepped forward on his horse. In the little light that there was, she could tell that his tan features were accentuated with dark locks that didn’t even reach past his ears, “Why don’t you come with us? We know where mommy and daddy are.”

    “What’s that in yer hand?” the one on the left drew forward. His face became visible as well, though still shrouded in the darkness of the night. There was a long scar that reached from his forehead and down past his right eye; it was then that she noted the man didn’t have a right eye. He was harsh-looking; he too, had dark hair like the man in the middle. The third stayed behind the first two. With each advance, Elle took a step back.

    “N-n-nothing,” Elle replied, voice wavering at their advances, “I-I’m actually p-p-pretty sure this is Oklahoma, so I’ll just go this-this-way, but th-thanks any-“

    “I don’t recall saying you could leave,” she was interrupted loudly by his booming, over-powering voice and his presence, “What’s in your hand? I asked you a question, you’d be wise to answer it.”

    Elle froze.

    Just RUN.

    Ellenore scampered backwards and finished three leaps before the third man on a horse cut off her path. She was surrounded.

    “Now what?” the second laughed, “We told you we’d take you back to Oh-kula-hoema, right? What’s wrong? What’s with the pathetic face? You scared?”

    Her hands were shaking as she clutched the pendant, holding it to her chest with another hand over it. She said nothing, letting them pass words to one another. At some point or another, Elle could have sworn they started speaking in another language, but she was too frightened to pay attention.

    “Blonde locks of yours might make good rope, huh?” the other piped in. He withdrew a large blade from the sheath he carried behind him. It was stained with brown spots – presumably dried blood – and rusted from the rain, weathered from battle. He caressed the tip with his first finger, eyes falling on Elle’s frightened form.

    Suddenly, the man behind her captured her upper arm, large palms easily accounting for her entire bicep. Amongst their laughter, Elle could only let out a terrified screech for help.

    The cry for help, miraculously, was answered.

    There was a sharp sound of steel leaving a sheath, and the sounds of another individual running towards the group. He was like a streak of white cutting through the darkness, blade eerily glowing with an ethereal light, like the insects who were dancing above her head a short while ago. When Elle opened her eyes, there was a boy with a sword who landed in front of her and took another leap towards the burly man on the horse. Through the darkness, Elle wrenched to get her arm back, and when she succeeded, she fell backwards and out of the mysterious boy’s path. The seemingly glowing sword cut through one of their necks, and the silhouette of a head whizzed past her own, landing only a few feet in front of the blonde, who scampered back until her backside hit a fallen tree trunk, unable to speak or scream.

    The battle continued. The boy with the sword twirled and was fluid with his movements, as if dancing to a song of violence before he removed another limb from the other man on the right, who roared in agony and disappeared on his horse into the night, along with the other man, who remained untouched, though fearing for his life. The headless body of the unfortunate one fell limply to the ground as the horse scampered off into dark oblivion. The boy landed on one knee, sword at his side. Elle was given the chance to examine it, if not for split second until he gained his stance once again and turned to face her terrified face.

    When he advanced, Elle visibly winced at every step that he took towards her. Amidst the fighting that had taken place, the night had began to turn into early morning, the pale beginnings of morning seeping through the trees, signaling daybreak, though very faint. From her position on the ground, the figure that had advanced toward her bore a serious face, covering a deep, dark sadness that wasn’t visible to anyone seeing him for the first time. He had long, milky white locks that were tied back neatly with a few stray pieces hanging forward beside his cheeks. His eyes were a striking, light blue, sitting with seriousness above his high cheek bones and defined jaw line. His lips parted somewhat, eyes narrowing and squinting somewhat at the girl kneeling before him.

    He looked like he had been traveling for some time, but didn’t bare any sort of mark of exhaustion anywhere. Quietly, carefully, he sunk down to Elle’s level, who looked at him in complete shock before streams of tears began flowing down her cheeks. He looked at the object that was clutched in her hand, and with some simple gesture, reached forward without any hint or murmur of a voice, outstretching his palm. Elle reluctantly showed him the object in her hands, and he took it from her, examining it carefully before returning his glance to Elle, who was visibly shaken by the series of events that had taken place. He was studying her with a stern look before opening his mouth to speak.

    “Where did you find this?” he finally spoke, lifting the pendant to her again in his hand. His voice was soft, smoothly connecting word to word. Elle didn’t respond. Her voice was frozen, she couldn’t let out a sound except for small whimpers above harsh, irregular breathing. The boy stared at her, awaiting her reply. When none was to be had, a he asked again, only louder, and more firm.

    “Where did you find this?” came the question again. He wasn’t accusatory or vicious, but solemn. His voice, though soft, demanded grace and respect. Still, Elle was frozen, her limbs paralyzed. The only movement she was able to muster was the involuntary quivering of her bottom lip. Her eyes lost his gaze, looking absent-mindedly to the side and then across the ground. It was though she hadn’t heard the boy’s question; she was too engrossed in the events of the past twenty minutes. The boy seemed to sense Elle’s state of mind. He shifted his weight.

    “What is your name?” he asked simply, after failing to obtain an answer to his previous question, “What is your name? Can you understand me?” he quickly added, “Tell me your name.”

    His question became a demand. Elle’s eyes found his face again. His previous words were like gibberish, but the last four words were as clear as crystal.

    “Ellenore,” she whispered through small, shaky breaths, “My name is Ellenore.”

    “Ellenore,” he repeated her answer firmly, “Ellenore, I need you to focus. Where did you find this?” he articulated more clearly, asking the question for a third time.

    Ellenore fainted.