The Elders

Graros awoke with a start, his surroundings crystallizing into focus: a cage, the merciless desert, and a man looming over him. His hands were bound behind him. The man held a spear, its tip shimmering like glass, arcing towards him.

In an instant, Graros moved. His training from the book “Harmonic Blades: Mastery of Dual Archery and Swordsmanship” surged to the forefront of his mind. Even without a weapon, he had become adept at evasion.

He dodged the incoming spear, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

“Gorrammit to frell,” Graros muttered. The words, although unusual, were harmless enough, a mild oath he’d picked up from an off-world dialect.

A few feet away, Aria looked over from her own predicament. She was trapped in what looked like a rounded, domed birdcage, presumably to keep her from taking flight. Hearing Graros, her eyes widened. “Did you just… swear?”

Graros shrugged. “Just a bit of culture I picked up.”

Aria chuckled, her previous worry momentarily replaced by amusement. “Well, in that case, I’m relieved it’s something the kids can hear.”

Their friendship was unique, defined by moments like these. Graros, often seeing a reflection of his own daughter in Aria, treated her with a gentle camaraderie. And in the harshest of deserts, it was this bond that kept their spirits alive.

The spear missed him by mere millimeters, striking the ground with a thud. As the man repositioned himself for another attack, a new figure appeared.

“What on Sralois do you think you’re doing?” the newcomer demanded. “The Elders said not to harm them.”

“Not all the Elders,” the man with the spear retorted. But his earlier confidence seemed to waver.

“I’ll be informing the Elders of this,” the newcomer warned. The man with the spear backed away and disappeared into the desert.

“I apologize for that,” the newcomer said, extending water skins towards Graros and Aria. “My name is Luna.”

At this, Graros nearly choked on the water he was drinking. “Luna?” he echoed, surprised.

“Yes,” Luna confirmed, eyeing him curiously. “Is there a problem?”

Graros shook his head, managing a weak smile. “No, I just didn’t expect someone who looks like you to be called Luna, that’s all.”

Still eyeing Graros curiously, Luna spoke, “I am to bring you before the Elders. Will you cause trouble, or will you come calmly? I don’t want any more issues with the other guards. Hangr’s attack was unprovoked, as were the darts I used to knock you out. Know this: we will not hesitate to end you if there are any problems.”

Graros narrowed his eyes at Luna’s revelation. “So, it was YOU!” He regarded Luna with a new level of understanding. “Well, we will come calmly. However, you should be aware that I have a family to return to. We won’t be held indefinitely.” Graros continued, “And know this, Luna – Aria is here with me until she finds a place or reunites with her family. That’s a responsibility I’ve accepted, and I won’t abandon it.”

Luna held Graros’ gaze steadily before shifting his eyes to Aria. “As long as you don’t cause any trouble, I will personally ensure that what just happened doesn’t occur again.”

Graros returned Luna’s stare, their eyes locking in a moment of mutual understanding. It was clear to both of them that they were serious and intended to honor their words.

Graros watched as Luna rose from where he had been kneeling. Luna stood at four point eight strans tall, which in the local measurement system equated to four feet and roughly ten inches. This made Luna shorter than Graros, who stood at five point eleven strans, or about five feet eleven inches.

Despite his lesser height, Luna carried an aura of authority. His gaze was powerful, capturing anyone’s attention, regardless of his stature. Yet, beneath the surface, Graros could detect a flicker of nervousness in Luna’s eyes – a subtle hint of vulnerability that was not immediately apparent.

Graros, towering slightly over Luna, felt a sense of respect for the man. Luna’s commanding presence, coupled with his hidden nervousness, painted a complex picture of the man who was now their escort.

In the distance, Aria, significantly smaller at approximately one stran tall, observed them, waiting for what was to come next.

As Graros and Aria were led into the Elders’ Chamber, they took in their surroundings with very different reactions. From the outside, the chamber had appeared to be an ordinary cave, its entrance an unassuming part of the rugged Sralois landscape.

But as they stepped inside, Graros was taken aback. The chamber was vast and circular, reminding him of an earthly courtroom but with a distinctly Sralois flair. The grandeur of the place was unexpected; a large raised dais stood against the back wall, flanked by two smaller platforms. The design left no doubt about its purpose: this was a place where decisions were made, where authority was exerted.

Aria, on the other hand, looked around with a sense of familiarity. Unlike Graros, this was not her first encounter with the Maaneeleeth people of Sralois or their impressive architecture. She had been here before and knew well the significance of the chamber they now stood in.

Even so, she couldn’t help but share a part of Graros’s awe. The Elders’ Chamber, with its authority and grandeur, was a sight to behold, a testament to the structured society the Maaneeleeth had established on Sralois – or as Graros would call it, the moon.

“Welcome to our village,” a voice boomed across the chamber. The words came from the figure standing on the tallest dais. He was an imposing figure, carrying an air of authority that left no doubt about his status. “My name is Consol, the Grand Elder of this council,” he announced, his gaze sweeping across the room.

“And these,” he continued, gesturing to the figures seated on the smaller platforms to his sides, “are my fellow Elders, who along with me, guide our people through wisdom and unity.”

He first gestured to his left, where a female elder sat. “This is Draina,” Consol introduced. Despite being bald, there was an undeniable poise about her, a grace that commanded respect. She was elderly, her years adding to her dignity, and she gave a nod of acknowledgment when her name was mentioned.

Next, he gestured to his right, where a man with shifty eyes as dark as space itself sat. “And this is Prayet,” he said, introducing the final elder. Prayet scoffed lightly at his introduction, a subtle sign of his discontent.

After allowing a moment for Graros and Aria to acknowledge the other elders, he turned his attention back to them. His voice, still strong, carried a note of regret as he said, “I apologize for the unfortunate events that transpired at Luna’s hand,” his gaze turned towards Luna, who looked visibly ashamed.

“And also at the hands of our guards,” Elder Consol added, his tone firm and his gaze shifting to Prayet, who shifted uncomfortably under his stare. “Please know that we will be investigating this matter thoroughly.”

A brief pause ensued before the Grand Elder continued, “We will now remove your bonds, and if all goes well, we will return your sword.”

“What brings you here?” the Grand Elder asked, his voice echoing in the vast chamber.

“And how did you get here?” Draina added, her voice softer, but no less authoritative.

Graros glanced between the two elders, rubbing his wrists where the bonds had been just moments before. “Well, do you want the long version or the short version?” he asked, a hint of humor in his voice despite the situation.

“Tell us everything,” the Grand Elder instructed, his tone leaving no room for ambiguity. It was clear that the elders were seeking a comprehensive understanding of Graros’s journey.

Graros nodded, drawing a deep breath as he began to recount his story. He started from the very beginning, from the seemingly ordinary call to repair a computer network, a task he had performed countless times before. But this call was different – it led him to the ruins on the moon.

He told them about his experiences in the ruins, the trials he faced, the strange symbols, and the mysterious energies. He spoke about Aria, how they met, and the bond they had formed. He left nothing out, ensuring the elders had a full understanding of the extraordinary sequence of events that had brought him to their village.

Graros continued his story, his voice softening as he began to speak about his family. “I miss them,” he admitted, a hint of longing in his eyes. “My wife Ava and our kids… I hope they are safe.”

He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “I wish there was a way to contact them, to let them know I’m okay.” His voice held a note of frustration, the helplessness of his situation evident in his tone.

He then spoke about the Cave Elves. “I had to send my family to stay with them. I can’t help but imagine how scared they must’ve been… thrown into an unknown world, not knowing what’s happening to me.”

Graros’s words echoed in the chamber, his concerns and longing for his family palpable. It was a sentiment that resonated with everyone present, a reminder of the bonds and responsibilities that tethered them to those they cared about, even in the most extraordinary of circumstances.

“Cave Elves, you say?” Draina interrupted, her eyebrows knitting together in thought. She reached into a pocket in her robe and produced a small crystal. Holding it up, she muttered something under her breath.

Suddenly, the crystal flickered to life, casting a shimmering hologram into the air above them. It was the image of an elf, tall and lean with distinctive markings on the skin. Their eyes were bright and keen, radiating a sense of wisdom and serenity. The hologram was incredibly detailed, showing the elf’s distinctive features, their elegant attire, and the surroundings of a cave, beautifully reflecting their moniker.

Graros leaned forward in surprise, his eyes wide. “Yes!” he exclaimed.

“There might be a way,” Draina mused, her gaze still fixed on the holographic image of the Cave Elf. “We have ancient communication crystals, but,” she hesitated, looking somewhat regretful, “time has eroded our understanding of the technology. We here on Sralois haven’t had contact with the people from there for many thousand years.”

Graros nodded thoughtfully. “That’s not too surprising about the lack of contact. My people have a lot of communication technologies, though they do use crystals to set frequencies… ” He paused, realizing he was getting off track. “Never mind, that’s beside the point. Most of my people don’t even know there is life here.”

“Is there any way I could have a look at these crystals?” Graros asked thoughtfully, his interest piqued. “I’ve been studying this crystal-based magic and technology – ‘Magitech,’ as I’ve come to call it. I’ve made some headway in understanding it.”

His gaze was steady, his determination clear. “I also have some knowledge of communication technologies and how they work. There might be some similarities that could be useful,” he suggested, a spark of hope in his voice.

He paused for a moment, considering something. “Plus, I’ve recently developed the ability to sense energy. Perhaps I could combine these skills to figure out how to operate these ancient crystals.”

His words were met with thoughtful silence, the elders considering his proposition.

Just as Graros finished speaking, the ground beneath them shuddered. A loud thumping sound reverberated through the chamber, sending a wave of alarm through everyone present.

“We are under attack!” Draina exclaimed, her composure faltering for the first time.

“It must be the Mantraians,” Prayet added quickly, his shifty eyes darting around the chamber. “They must have seen what happened to the Grand Temple.”

He turned his gaze towards Graros and Aria, his eyes accusatory. “This must be your fault,” he spat out.

Aria met his gaze squarely, her expression unflinching. She made a rude gesture at Prayet, not bothering to hide her disdain.

“This is not the time,” Consol interjected, his voice as steady as ever, even as pieces of stone started falling from the ceiling.

With no time to waste, they all rushed out of the chamber to see what was happening. The once calm atmosphere of the council chamber was replaced by a palpable tension as the reality of the situation settled in.

Graros glanced back at Consol as they hurried out. “Perhaps I could have my sword back now?” he asked, his tone half-serious, half-joking, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere.