ship. For centuries, they kept to themselves, determined that no human would learn of them, content to allow the truth of the elven peoples to fade into folklore. This ship was the fourth, made mostly of salvaged parts. The prow read The Flying Dutchman , because some of the parts were from that ship, found wrecked on the shores of a deserted island. They would have been amused to hear the tales their ghost ship created.
Cearvus looked at his wife, the only other survivor of that first group. She was called Isis, and she was the color of ice. He was the only person she ever melted for, and that was only in the privacy of their cabin.
He thought for a moment of those First People, all in their graves at the bottom of the ocean. What would they do now, when it seemed that perhaps their queen was coming to reclaim them?
Next was Bronwyn, one of the first generation born on-ship, flame-haired and green-eyed. Next to her was Dare, much younger but so wise and calm, despite the implications of his name, that only a fool would keep him off the council.
"The queen will come,” Isis said. “She will not easily pass up this opportunity to avenge herself against those of us who remain.” She spoke with complete conviction. Titania was proud, and would not forget the slight of those who rejected her rule. Isis, Cearvus thought, was probably looking forward to the fight. She, too, was proud and long of memory.
"We do not even know if she still rules,” Dare said calmly. “If there is someone else on the throne it is unlikely they'd even remember us after all this time."
Bronwyn slipped her hand behind Dare's seat. She thought her relationship with the younger man was a secret. She curled a small bit of Dare's midnight hair around her fingers, her eyes all worry. He gave her a gentle smile. They had been devoted lovers for more than a year, despite the hundred-year difference in their ages. Cearvus smiled. The ship was too small to keep happenings in the dark.
"What was it, exactly, that made Alvaris think we were in trouble? Is it just the coming of the blue moon?” he asked.
Dare answered. “Alvaris said she felt something awaken. An old power appeared in the mountains by the sea. She couldn't tell if someone had truly come through from the other side, but it seems the only explanation. Someone worked a great spell, and one of the old ones, older than you, Cearvus, answered the call. We don't know if this power has aught to do with us or not."
"Someone must go and alert the settlements,” Isis said. “'Tis better to be safe, they say."
"If I remember correctly,” Bronwyn said, taking back her hand and putting it on her lap, “There are only two—Belterhoff and Barrow's Point."
"As far as we know,” Isis said. “But if there are others the chiefs of those places will know and send their own messengers."
"I will go,” Bronwyn said. She had helped set up the twin settlements originally and would know the secret paths, made so they folded reality a bit and made the journey shorter.
The settlements were built to take the overflow of elves from the ship, located in the hardest to reach places the elven kindred could find.
"Not by yourself,” Dare said.
"Actually,” Cearvus said, “Cristoff wished to go to Belterhoff. He is considering staying, as he has family there. Bronwyn can go to Barrow's Point—we will drop you off there first, then take Cristoff to his destination since we'll be coming back for you."
Bronwyn nodded.
"I'll go,” Dare insisted.
"No,” Isis and Bronwyn said together.
"I can go by myself,” Bronwyn added. “Less conspicuous."
"Take someone,” Dare said. “Take Moros. He's strong,” He showed worry keenly, for Moros was Bronwyn's ex-lover.
"We cannot spare anyone,” Isis said. “But we must send someone, so we will send our best, and thus only need to send one."
Bronwyn bowed in her direction, her hand over her heart.
So, they sailed toward the Americas. Bronwyn took her