Iylaine is underground

Iylaine did not know where she was, but she knew she was underground. The walls of her little room were paneled with tiles of smooth stone, but in the passage outside they were rough and glistening with damp. In some places they were built up from crudely hewn blocks reinforced with rotting beams, but in others the corridor was carved out of the living rock. She could almost sense movement in the walls, as if she were near the flanks of a slowly breathing beast.

Iylaine was a creature of sun and fire. This narrow space of air confined by earth was a prison to her, and not only because of the bars on the door. It seemed that there was as much stone over her head as beneath her feet, and there was a heat in the earth that was not like the heat of fire. It had not come from a century of stored up sunlight being released over the space of a few hours. This heat came up from below, and she recoiled from it as if it were the body heat of some primitive, sightless creature that had grown up pale and bloated in a never ending dark.

There was, however, light here. In the corridor there was an inexplicably glowing orb that hung from a chain and that was nearly always lit, except when it seemed they wanted her to sleep.

Also one of the elf women had given Iylaine a few candles. The candles were not made of sweet-​​smelling wax but of a stinking fat that had come, for all she knew, from the body of some primitive, sightless, dark-​​dwelling creature. However, the fire was hot and soothed her like the fire she knew. Her only comfort was gazing into the tiny flames and dreaming of the sun.

Iylaine did not know how long she had been trapped here behind these bars. She thought the night must certainly have ended, and the day might even be well along, or have passed into the second night. Enough time had passed that she had been obliged by hunger to eat their strange food and by exhaustion to sleep on the skin they had provided for her.

A deerskin! She had slept without the pillows so that she could press her nose into the fur and try to tease out the lingering odor of the light-​​dwelling beast it had been. She had dreamed of deer grazing in a dewy meadow in a bright, golden dawn.

But she had awoken in this earthen dark. This was not the dream.

So far from the sun, she did not know whether the elves here had such notions as day and night. There was always someone awake. Down the corridor, at some great distance it seemed, she could hear murmuring voices at all times, though they spoke a language she did not understand. She even heard an occasional baby’s cry, and though she supposed it was one of their own babies, it seemed a cruel thing to raise a helpless infant in such an appalling place.

She had only seen a few of the elves. There were a few women who tended to her needs, all tall and lovely despite their pallor, but she had noticed that their dresses were not fine, and their hair was loose and long, rather than elaborately braided as Vash had told her the elfin ladies’ hair should be.

Then there was the male. He had short, nut-​​brown hair cut not unlike her cousin’s, and his skin was tanned and lightly freckled as if he, at least, often saw the sun. But he frightened her more than anything: she could tell he wished her harm, and she suspected it was he who had captured her in the woods.

However, he spoke a little English. So far he had only used it to tell her to do as she was told. He would not answer her questions, but he seemed to understand them well enough to sneer at them.

Now he had returned, and he was not alone. There was another elf with him, grimly pale, with long, black hair tied behind his head. This one was finely dressed indeed, in a dark costume that glittered with dozens of silver buckles. More remarkable than his dress, however, was the strange black marking that curled across his left cheek and temple.

They both stared at her for a moment, and then the first, hateful elf turned to the other and said, “Íma dasí.”

The dark elf did not lift his eyes from hers. “Sórí alrérí alkí dalüm,” he said after a moment and stepped closer to the bars.

Iylaine searched her memory for the few elfin words that Vash had taught her, but the one word she most hoped to hear was simply “Vash.” She had not yet dared pronounce it, for she knew the elves were not supposed to know they had met, but she was growing desperately frightened. Perhaps, she thought, if Vash knew she was here, he could somehow have her released.

“Come here,” the first elf ordered.

Iylaine did not move. “I want to go home,” she said.

“Come here now or never you do leave this place!”

“I want to go home,” she repeated, but she stepped closer.

However, she stopped beyond the reach of their arms. They were males, and she had had plenty of time to frighten herself by imagining dreadful fates for herself. Furthermore, the first seemed to be showing her to the second and awaiting his approval.

“Come here and show your hand!” the first elf commanded.

“Please, let me go home.” She spoke calmly, too proud to cry, or perhaps simply too terrified – she could not look away from the dark elf’s ice-​​pale eyes.

“Show me your hand, dear girl,” the dark elf said coldly, “unless you would like me to step inside and show myself?”

Iylaine was startled to hear him speak in flawless English. Even Vash had an accent when he spoke English to her. She held out her hand, and the dark elf reached through the bars and took it.

His hand was cold, but it was as soft and smooth as a lady’s. “Lovely little hand,” he smiled, but his smile vanished abruptly and he turned her hand over to scrutinize her palm. “Ní rérí dakhla,” he growled.

“Íma éla dalrú,” the first elf replied eagerly. “Yëlríndí. Síríshrú shídlis, dalümrú lërrím kídimrín allas alan.”

“Ní sórí alsírísh’úrú,” the dark elf muttered.

“Séyérrí. Rú yérrú así. Yérrú así léhisrín alíma.”

The dark elf snorted, and then he smiled at her again and lifted her hand as if he meant to kiss it. Iylaine yanked it away. The elf laughed softly.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, trying to summon enough anger to hide her fright. “I want to go home to my father.”

“Nothing at all, dear girl,” the dark elf said. “You shall be our guest for a short time, and then go home to your father.”

“I don’t want to be your guest. Please, I want to go home. My father will give you silver, or anything you want.”

The two elves only stared at her, the dark elf coldly and the other with a sneering hatred. She saw that there was not the least pity in their hearts for her, though she was young, and frightened, and a lady. It was only then, when she had realized that even tears would not move them, that she began to cry. She turned away, angry at herself for showing her weakness before them.

“Khírím rórrín alkéaldéshím,” the dark elf chuckled.

“Sívkis lémrín alkhírrón!” the other snarled.

Iylaine thought she had heard a word she knew. It was a word she had often said to herself as she brooded over her father’s love for that dog-​​elf woman. Now she thought she understood why these elves were not finely dressed and did not braid their ladies’ hair. She thought she understood why they were living in a miserable, stinking, lightless pit.

“Kisór dogs!” she hissed without turning back to them. She would not befoul her eyes again on such a sight as they.

The dark elf laughed, either at her or at the sudden fury of the other elf.

“Kisór wolves!” the other elf howled. “You make mistake, little girl! It is not lick your hand for us! It is our fangs for you!”

“Llén alúrí!” the dark elf barked, and the other was immediately silent. “Ní ksanaí lémrín ní alím.”

“Séyérrí,” the other muttered.

Neither spoke then. She knew they were watching her. She would not move. They could stand and stare until they fell over. She would not give them anything but a haughty back on which to look.

Meanwhile she concentrated all her thoughts on the fire that was in their clothing. She had tried this already, and in this place she had not been able to light anything but the candles and a corner of the deerskin. It would have given her great satisfaction to see them writhe and burn as she had seen before in the deaths of other men who had tried to hurt her. But she could not find any fire in their clothes.

However, while the other elves had always remained oblivious of her attempts, the dark elf seemed to notice what she was doing.

“Don’t try that, dear girl,” he threatened. “It will avail you nothing, and it may make me angry enough to forget that you are our guest.”

Iylaine did not reply, but she ceased her attempt to make them burn. She stood still but for a trembling in her legs that she hoped was hidden beneath her long skirts.

After another long silence, she heard them walk away, speaking softly to one another, back down the passage that led, at some great distance, to the other elves.

She was alone again. She had never been more alone. Even among the many men who hated and feared her, there had always been a few who loved her – but none more than her father, no matter how cruel she had been to him.

She knew these dog-​​elves would not take her to Vash. She could only hope they would take her home to her father before she wilted and died like a flower deprived of sun.