The woman sighs, glancing at the muscled man to her left. She speaks in the native Thelasian language, causing the man to straighten his posture. Then she shouts an order to her tribe, and they lower their weapons.
Two of them peel Kelrean away from us, while a few others lift Thane off the rocky ledge and assist a stumbling Rynthea.
“Follow,” the woman commands with her back to us, sauntering away.
I glance at Algar, who gives me awhat the fuck?expression.
I have a good guess which tribe this is… I just didn’t know they still existed. But if this is the tribe my mother told me stories about, then I know we’re in good hands. They exist to nurture and protect, especially when it comes to their own.
I use that as my sliver of hope and follow the elementalists into the forest.
Chapter 33
My mother used to tell me stories about the ancient tribes of Thelanor.
We’d sit around a bonfire and listen to her exciting storytelling about how many of them possessed unique powers. Of course, there were those who carried magic like the sorcerers, but there were unique tribes who referred to themselves as elementalists.
I was told the elementalists divided themselves into distinct communities by their designated elements. They would often join together as allies when it came to external threats. As we follow them, I realize being separated by elements is no longer the case because this tribe has a mixture of all.
The tribe’s queen takes us along a hidden path, where one of the elementalists waves a hand and causes a thick set of interwoven branches shaped like hidden doors to spread apart. We pass through three of them before ducking under the thick trunk of a fallen tree and walking through gates made of silver. This leads to a winding stone footpath, arched by greenery that’s tangled in sweet-smelling flora. We don’t slow down until we reach the hidden world of Immalon.
The first thing I notice are the steep mountaintops in the distance with peaks jutting toward the sky. Huts made of brick and wood with straw roofs are spread throughout the village. A dirt footpath connects them. No matter which path you take, all lead to a crystal-blue lagoon reflecting a blue sky, mountaintops, and fleecy clouds.
White flowers embellish nearby bushes while gorgeous clusters of pink and yellow drip from low-hanging branches on surrounding trees. Bamboo stalks protrude between groves of trees. Everything is deep green and smells sweet here, like the air has permanently been fragranced with honey and flowers.
We pass the lagoon, where children play and giggle. Some levitate rocks in the air, while others fling splashes of water with rapid flicks from their dry hands.
Wow. The stories and curated art do not do this place justice. Not even the greatest artist in all of Thelanor could capture the grace and beauty of this place.
The tribe queen doesn’t stop until we reach two interconnected huts built on stilts with cone-shaped roofs. The elementalists assisting Thane, Rynthea, and Kelrean lead them into the building.
I start after them, but the queen stops me with an arm to my chest. Her forearm is wrapped in a fingerless gold gauntlet. Swirls of ink on the warm skin beneath it flow to her nimble fingers.
“You two will stay with me,” she says. Definitely an order and not an option.
I look from her to Algar, who now has Zephra cradled in his arms.
“Will they be okay?” I ask, glancing at the hut where the other three have now disappeared.
“They will be taken care of by our healers. Speaking of which…”
She gestures for a woman near the hut to come our way.
“Heal them, please,” the queen commands.
The woman takes hold of my wrists. Her hands warm up like a stoked hearth, and the heat transfers to me. An odd tingling sensation crawls under my skin, and right before my eyes, the stinging scrapes and visible rawness on my palms disappear.
“Gods, thank you,” I murmur in awe.
The healer bows her head before grabbing Algar’s wrists and doing the same. Once finished, Algar thanks her as well. She gives a quick bow before returning to the hut.
“Better?” the queen asks.
“Yes,” I answer, rubbing a thumb over my healed palm. “Thank you.”
“Good. Follow me.” The queen strolls past several more huts until she and the muscular man approach a stone building. The first floor of the building doesn’t give much away, but on the second floor is a platform wrapped with wooden railing, along with several tables and benches for dining. The queen enters the building, and the muscled man (who I assume is her partner) holds the door open, waiting for us.
I walk past, forcing a smile at him as Algar trails behind. He unexpectedly returns a smile and a nod.
