Free The Eternal Flame by T. A. Barron Page A

Realms. Legends and mysteries, mournful ballads and romantic poems—these filled Dianarra, just as storytellers stood on every street corner and mural painters decorated every wall. It was those stories, and the many bards and performers and scribes who came here to learn them, that brought this city its greatest days.”
    His face turned grim. “And also its downfall.”
    Glumly, he shook his head. “There were always dark elves who resented the City of Light. They feared its power—and even more, the power of its stories. Suspicious of outside influence, they longed for the bygone times of quiet darkness. Of isolation from all these foreign myths, customs, and ideas. And in our arrogance, those of us who cherished the wider world simply ignored those who disagreed, deriding their foolishness but never trying to help them understand the beauties beyond our borders.”
    He exhaled a sorrowful breath. “Finally, they attacked Dianarra. The battle raged on, growing more brutal with every atrocity. At the beginning, I fought as best I could with those who defended our city and all it stood for. But in time I could see that Dianarra would fall. When the portal, Lastrael’s only one, was destroyed, I fled into the deepest part of the library and hid there.”
    Hanging his head, he lamented, “I am nothing more than a coward, a terrible coward! I should have given my life to my city. To my realm.” He wrung his wrinkled hands. “Yet I just could not bring myself to do that.”
    His voice now just a raspy whisper, he added, “For this was a war that no one could win. And that was just how it ended. Both armies lost. Dianarra lost. The lovely dark and the inspiring light—both of them also lost.”
    The lovely dark, Elli repeated to herself. Just what he meant by that phrase, she wasn’t sure. Yet she did feel sure that, despite all she had believed, there remained some genuine goodness here in Shadowroot.
    She stepped over to Grikkolo, some broken bits of tile cracking under her weight. Gently, she rested her hand against the back of his neck, hoping to comfort him.
    In time, the old elf raised his head. Although he couldn’t look at her directly, she glimpsed the gratitude in his silvery gray eyes. Then, as his curiosity returned to the fore, he asked, “Now tell me. What brought you here? And what, may I ask, is that light you carry?”
    Quickly as she could, Elli explained everything: the darkened stars, the corrupted crystal, and the overwhelming plight of Avalon. As she spoke, Grikkolo listened in rapt attention, his expression graver by the minute. When, at last, she told him about the crystal of élano that she wore, his wide eyes opened even wider.
    “All we know,” she concluded, “is that Kulwych is hiding underground, in the deepest mine he could find.”
    “That would be Borvo Lugna,” Grikkolo commented. “It is deep, very deep. And also large enough to hold whatever army he might be assembling, with plenty of iron for forging weapons.”
    Elli traded glances with the sprite in her arm. “How far,” she asked, “is it from here?”
    “A full day’s walk. If you know the way, of course.”
    “Which is why we came here,” she explained. “To find a map.”
    “That will not be necessary,” declared the elf. He pushed away from the shelves where he’d been resting and stood as straight as his back allowed. Facing the doorway to the library, he added with determination: “For I shall take you there myself.”
    Elli blinked in surprise. Then slowly she smiled, realizing how much this would help them find their way across the realm of darkness. “You would really do that?”
    Grikkolo nodded at the doorway. “While many years have passed since I left this place, I still remember well the pathways of my youth.” He stood even more erect. “And this time, in this battle, I will be no coward.”

10 • Palimyst
    The huge, hunchbacked monster stared down at Tamwyn, who lay helpless on the grass.