The
city sprawled across an archipelago that lay fifty miles off the coast of
Doranath. The way they rose in height as you moved towards the heart of the
maze of islands hinted at the shattered mountain that they once were. Slender
spires of stone, glass, and metal rose from a dense green canopy, like fingers
reaching for the stars that illuminated the night sky. Smaller buildings were
tucked away under the tree tops, with soft yellow lights illuminating the
myriad streets that criss-crossed the islands. High, arched bridges spanned the
gaps between the islands, rising high enough to allow the passage of vessels
beneath them. Each island featured a port of some sort or another, some with
space for a single skiff, others small enough only to accommodate only a
rowboat, and yet more that were the berths of multiple cogs. All of these,
however, were dwarfed by the main harbour of Illeth Moran.
Two
long stone piers swept out into the blue ocean in long curves that slowly swung
back together to create an immense circular quay. At three points, flanked by
soaring towers, there were large gaps to allow the passage of ships. At the
heart of the quay, built around a large rocky outcrop, were huge boatsheds that
held the finest vessels in the Elven navy. Atop the rock stood Heofonhéah Earendel, a lighthouse of
immense proportions, whose brilliant lights could be seen on the mainland.
Rumour had it that these same lights could be wielded as weapons against enemy
fleets, blinding their crews and even setting fire to the ships themselves.
From
the quay, a long, broad path of dressed stone cut a clean line up the island to
a bridge of matching stone. The path continued over six more islands in a
straight line before reaching the highest island in the archipelago. Here, it
turned, and created a long spiral that wound up to the peak of the island, atop
which sat a large building that was crowned by a golden dome. In the night, the
pale stone of this long path made it shine in the moonlight. A few people
lingered on the path, despite the late hour, watching the small procession that
made its way up from the quay.
The
procession was made up of tall Elven men and women, all dressed in uniform
robes, cut short at the knees for freedom of movement. The material was deep
blue, and stiffened with starch. Beneath it, pale green silks fluttered, adding
a slightly ethereal grace to their movements. Each elf had their hair braided
and tied back in a long ponytail, and each had a small sigil tattooed under
their left eye; it was a complex shape, with many delicate swirls surrounding a
crescent moon. They walked in two columns, perfectly in step. The four elves
who made up the rear of the column carried long, thin wooden chests of a pale
timber, ornately decorated by black and gold perfling that created images of
ships at sea. The leader of the column wore his hair differently, with three
braids separated from the ponytail, and these hung to one side of his face.
These three braids were adorned with small gems that were twisted into the
length of the braid, causing the hair to sparkle in the light. At his side,
like all his companions, he wore a sword sheathed in black leather. The pommel
of his, unlike the plain ones of his companions, was shaped like the talons of
some great bird of prey, and grasped a large pearly, the surface of which was
iridescent. He stepped forth with a purpose, leading his party up the path
towards the heart of Illeth Moran.
Over
a mile away, with its sails furled and all lights out, a small ship rode at
anchor. Two men stood on its deck, watching the procession making its way along
the pale path through telescopes. Every time the lighthouse’s great beam swung
towards the ship, they lowered their glasses and stooped behind the ship’s
railing.
Lowering
his ‘scope, Doran sighed, “Do you recognise the one leading the party?”
“No
sir,” said Mr Dask.
“That
is Ildrin, captain of the Brimclifer,
the flagship of the Elven navy. While perhaps not as skilled as his brother
Aldrid, he is no mean sailor. There is a reason he commands the greatest ship
in all of the Elven Navy.”
“And
if he is here, sir?”
“It
means that something important is happening. He is known to not be fond of
coming ashore, so whatever is on those boxes must be very important.”
“And
why are we here, sir?”
Doran
grinned, his teeth shining in the moonlight, “To persuade the elves to use the
biggest ship they have against the monster that is following us.”
“You
think it is stilling behind us?”
Doran
nodded slowly, “I am certain of it. The Purity
barely scratched her.”
Mr
Dask felt his stomach drop, “So you want to ask the Elves for..”
“…The
Brimclifer, yes,” Doran finished for
him.
Mr
Dask groaned and covered his eyes with his hand.
Doran
smacked him cheerfully on the shoulder and said, “Cheer up man, it is hardly
the stupidest thing I have ever done.”
“Aye,”
agreed the first mate, “But it comes close, sir, damn close.”
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