Storytime
A D'veen Tale for Flash Fiction February (Day 3)
Finton Merrybrook watched the young elf Kennadara (who preferred to be called Kenny) as she intently focused on her drawing spread across parchment on the floor. Snow fell outside the window—white, like the color of her hair.
He carefully balanced the piping hot cup in his hands as he approached. She was only ten years old, singing a song to herself as she drew. He could tell she would grow up to have a wonderful singing voice.
He had an instinct for these kinds of things after so many centuries. Certain people just had an aura of creativity about them—a shimmer of the power he and his brothers and sisters once used to craft D’veen.
It had been a lifetime since he had seen that shimmer. He remembered seeing it in the fiery eyes of a young girl named Lis. Kenny reminded him of her. Perhaps that’s why he liked her so much.
Whatever happened to Lis and the Narrow Glen?
It wasn’t a memory he was keen on reliving. Finton cleared his mind and focused on Kenny’s singing instead.
“You have a beautiful voice, young one. It reminds me of a Dwarven prophet named Monita. By the Titans, I wish you could have heard her voice.”
Kenny lifted the parchment off the ground and showed it to Finton with a toothy grin. “Look, Uncle Finton, I drew Mommy!” she declared.
It was a crude drawing. She would make a better singer than an artist, but Finton knew to be gentle with children.
“Ah yes, very nice! And is that the Chronoscepter I see?” Finton asked.
“Yeah, but Mommy says we can’t touch it.”
Good advice.
Kenny placed the parchment back on the ground and picked up one of the colored chalks Finton had provided her.
He sat down and held out the cup for Kenny. It was filled with a drink made using dried beans from plants that grew near his home.
“I made you this,” he said.
Kenny took the drink from him and blew on it several times before taking a sip. “Oh, I like it! Thanks, Uncle Finton.”
He resisted the urge to smile. “Don’t mention it. So, do you want to hear a story?”
Kenny shrugged.
“You know, people come far and wide to hear my stories. You should be honored that I want to tell you one. After all, I am the greatest storyteller in all of D’veen!”
Kenny looked up from her drawing and stared at the snow falling outside the window.
“Can you tell me a story about the Tallion?” she asked.
Finton cocked his head. “Where did you hear that name?”
Kenny shrugged. “Don’t remember.”
She’s a terrible liar.
“Alright, well, the Tallion are a race of people who were created by the Magiri.”
“Were they friends with the Magiri?” Kenny asked, still working on her drawing.
“Not quite.”
Slaves, actually.
“This story is about a Tallion girl named Velnor. She was friends with a Magiri girl named Lorellai. Of course, Magiri children weren’t supposed to be friends with Tallion people, so they had to keep it a secret!” Finton said.
“Why couldn’t they be friends?” Kenny asked.
Finton had forgotten how curious children could be.
“It just wasn’t allowed,” Finton said.
He continued before Kenny could inquire further. “The Tallion can’t control magic the way the Magiri did, but Lorellai gave her friend a gift. A magic pencil. She told Velnor that the pencil’s magic could bring anything she drew to life!”
Finton paused for dramatic effect.
“Where is the pencil now?” Kenny asked.
Finton searched the vast halls of his mind, but the answer evaded him.
“I don’t quite recall. You see, the pencil had a mind of its own and could change its form. It’s a wand these days if I’m not mistaken. Did I mention it talks?” Finton asked.
Kenny turned to face him, her blue eyes wide with curiosity.
“It could talk?” she cried.
Finton nodded. “Yes, and it told Velnor that she could use it to take revenge for her people. All she had to do was draw a monster strong enough to break their cages.”
Kenny raised an eyebrow. “Why were they in cages?”
Finton’s words came out in fragments as his tired mind tried to fabricate anything but the truth.
“Well, you see, they…wanted to be in cages?”
Kenny went back to her drawing. “That’s weird.”
Finton sighed. “Yes, quite odd, I agree. Anyhow, Velnor drew the most terrifying monster she could conceive! A beast with four heads and six arms!”
Kenny gasped. “That’s super scary, Uncle Finton!”
He nodded. “Yes, but it was powerful! It came to life and tore down the cages. The Tallion escaped into the night.”
“Did the Magiri kill the monster?” Kenny asked.
Finton nodded. “Yes, but it took quite some time. By then, the Tallion people were long gone.”
Kenny nodded, setting down her drawing implement to take a sip of her drink.
“Whatever happened to the Magiri?” Kenny asked.
“Something else took them from our world, but that’s a story for another time. Suffice to say, magic is a force of nature, and the Magiri were made of it. Such things cannot be destroyed, not really.”
They can, however, be banished.
“Where are the Tallion people now?” she asked.
“Still hiding. The Tallion do not trust any of the races of D’veen, so they chose to remain in solidarity. Not even history remembers them.”
“They’re not all hiding,” Kenny said.
Now, it was Finton’s turn to raise an eyebrow.
“What do you mean by that?” he asked.
A sharp knock came from the door behind him. He stood up and walked over to it. Cold air rushed inside as he opened it. A woman in a green hooded cloak stepped inside, carrying an intricately carved staff.
She set it down on Finton’s table and pulled her hood back. Her radiant blonde hair cascaded over pointed ears.
“Sarai? You’re early. Is everything okay?” Finton asked.
“Everything’s fine; I just had to get out of there. Didn’t want anyone to spot me,” Sarai said, brushing snow off her shoulders.
“No, I suppose not. What did you learn?” he asked.
“There’s definitely another elf who escaped Avondale. I don’t have a name yet, but the cult is looking for her.”
Finton shook his head. How anyone could worship something like the Rot was beyond his understanding.
“And what of Titanum forest? Did you visit with the Fairies?”
Sarai shook her head. “No, they were gone by the time I arrived.”
“Gone? What do you mean?”
Sarai locked eyes with Finton. The storyteller saw indescribable fear reflected deep in her emerald irises.
“I felt it, Finton. From the moment I set foot in Titanum, I knew it was there. I don’t know how it got out,” she said.
“No, you’re mistaken. That’s not possible; the World Tree has held the Rot prisoner in Avondale since it fell. You know this!”
Sarai slammed her fist on the table, nearly knocking the Chronoscepter off its surface.
“I know what I felt, Finton! It’s there. It’s weak, trapped, maybe, but it’s there. I could feel it like a stain on my soul. Like an icy breath on the back of my neck,” Sarai said.
Finton had not expected such news.
“What should we do?” he asked.
Sarai picked up the Chronoscepter off the table.
“I don’t know. We find the other elf, maybe seek the fairies. If we’re lucky, whatever magic they used to trap the Rot Seed will hold it until we can figure out a way to kill it.”
Sarai’s eyes wandered over to the doorway, past Kenny, and onto the metal sphere that perched atop Finton’s mantle.
“Or, we could go back. Try to stop it,” Sarai said.
Finton stepped in front of her, breaking her power-hungry gaze.
“No, absolutely not. The other Chronosphere isn’t even charged. You swapped it for the one on your precious staff in order to save your children, remember?”
Sarai grunted in frustration, running a hand through her hair. “Then we’ll find another soul. Some way to charge it.”
Finton laid a hand on her shoulder. “You yourself said that the Rot Seed was weak, possibly trapped. We have time. For now, you should take your daughter and go back to your son. I will contact you when it’s time for us to make our move.”
Sarai nodded. “Yes. You’re right.”
Finton smiled. “I usually am.”
Sarai stepped past Finton. “Gather your things, Kenny; your brother Nolwyn is waiting for us.”
Finton watched as the young girl rolled up her parchment and took her mother’s hand. She paused on her way out to give the storyteller a hug.
“Good night, Uncle Finton,” she said.
“Good night, young elf, and safe travels!”
The two departed, heading back into the snowy weather.
Finton’s sleep was restless that night. The time would soon come when the greatest storyteller in D’veen could no longer passively watch.
For if he didn’t intervene, there would soon be no more stories left to tell.
Other Tales from D’veen
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Your Musical Pairing
Listen to this after reading. Like having a glass of wine with dinner.
Titanum! 🥰🥰🥰
I love this story! A great nod to all the stories from this prompt!
So good. Another drop in the world of D’Veen is always a treat. Especially with this tightly written dialogue. You flow directly into the conversation and it grips you until it’s over. Thanks for the mention!