The First Eight

They’d surely come through the Hall of Portals, but not from the portal which led to Earth. Talon was well aware that there were many new ways of reaching this place (called the Otherforest she’d heard Snowdrift say). Portals were slung in unlikely places like high above the plains south west of here, up above a meadow in the First holt, and she’d even been told of one that had water pouring out of it in midair over a canyon. But Talon and her closest friends had come through here, at the Hall, some time ago. Time passed differently between Earth and the Otherforest, she was keenly aware of this. People could leave and come back different. Snowdrift had done so, arriving again in the form of Blackbuck – that was just weird.

But she was also herself again, and Talon was left confused.

Talon was the self-proclaimed keeper of the Hall, now that Alorel was smacked down and kept away by other things he wanted more. The Hall was a large, flat slab of black marble stuck in the middle of a large swamp at the eastern edge of the only major continent on the planet. Due west of there in the middle of the land, in and among the tall peaks making up the World Spine Mountains, there were catacombs of this black stuff, the marble had likely been mined there and somehow transported eight thousand miles east.

And farther west, too – for the Spire on the island in the middle of the ocean across the world from here was also made of the stuff.

If Talon hadn’t already known, she would have suspected that all the Portals were constructed like the buildings themselves. They had been moved, perhaps, but not made by the Ancients who had once dwelled upon this world. There was only one of their species around, impossibly old, and rather weird.

Talon was glad that he lived far, far away from here.

Alorel’s occasional visits were enough to put anyone on edge, but that six-fingered and very stick-thin alien creature made everyone feel uncomfortable. Everyone but Snowdrift apparently.

Talon was sitting in the ‘office’, it was a den separated from the main portion of the Hall by a thin sliding marble door. It blended into the wall seamlessly but was thin enough that she could hear anything that happened out in the main hallways. While it was usually fairly chilly in the Hall itself, the office was nice and warm, kept comfortable by the brazier at the end of the room, and free from smoke by the clever system of holes in the wall above it.

Talon’s friend Jade had made those, opening them with magic that only she and perhaps two or three others in the whole world could use. No one could shape this stone, save Jade. The light from the fire wasn’t what kept Talon’s eyes open, it was the sparkling script on the map she was making, reflecting ink that danced with the three candles above her on the big desk.

Whenever she picked up a new project like this, Talon realized that something was happening. She went with her instincts, as always, because to ignore them might mean someone would be in trouble sooner or later. And she so hated to have to be the one to clean up someone else’s mess.

(Her black eyes narrowed and turned to the door, briefly, because if any thought would summon either Alorel or her own mate Vex, that would have been it. Fortunately, no one disturbed her yet.)

Talon’s magic was subtle, strong, and almost completely unique. For she had the ability to imbue objects with movement – visually at least – and she chose to illuminate maps and text for this reason. Her script was beautiful, artistic but clean and easy to read. Her lines were confident, pressed onto the parchment with a sound purpose. Her long fingers, tipped with dark, hard nails, knew every line they were to be putting down.

When they reached the south-east corner of the map though… Something was different. She’d placed everything else relevant to this map already: the Spine mountains were where the west side began (though they were not the west edge of the continent, indeed, it went on for another full map-page west before the coast), the First holt and Silverglen, the Greenriver holt and the Hive, South, and all the other smaller places between… The mountains along the northern edge of the plains, where the Ice Traders resided and their travel routes crossed with the Elves, and the eastern coast where Dare’s Valley and Fang’s Tree rested. She’d lived in Dare’s Valley since it was created, they had been at war with Fang longer than that, but for the moment there was peace.

Down along the southern coast, the Cliffs turned to sand and pebble beaches, and finally to cliffs covered with tall trees again. The Urai lived in those thick forests, and probably other creatures too. Normally, no one needed to know this corner of the continent too well. She knew of only a handful of elves who had ever traveled this direction at all.

Yet now her hand dwelled upon that corner as though it had never been explored at all. With each droplet of ink, came a new surprise.

There would be elves living there, on this distant piece of pleasant jungle.

But who? Had they come yet? Were they arriving soon? And from where? When she put her magic into the map it gave all the regular warnings: stay clear of Fang, watch for the Runners who were even wilder than he and his tribe; obey the Urai’s knotted tree territory signs (lest you be knotted too!); the Ice Traders had told her of a dangerous sea passage and that was noted as well.

Her hand stopped short of the script that she’d want to use for naming this place. It didn’t yet have a name. It didn’t even yet have inhabitants. Her magic was getting ahead of itself.

The other Holts and locales had shimmering silver diamonds above them, somewhat more flourishy or bigger for the large places, smaller or simpler for the little ones. And by little – a tribe of three eights was enough to make a mark on the map, and the city known as the South Holt had more than twelve eights. The elfin community had grown in the time that Talon had been here, she’d watched it do so, with a bit of a wry eye. Though she was an adept archivist, there were others more capable of recording things happening in far distant lands. She communicated with them regularly, but left the book-writing to them. She was more of an artist. She liked making useful things.

Tomes dusty and heavy were not for her. Archive off on Spire Island enjoyed them, almost every Holt had someone who kept track of things there. She’d had to learn two other elfin scripts, developed outside of her own by those who wanted to do so. It was still very hard to get ‘letters’ out from one holt to the next, still very slow going across the thousands of miles between some places.

When you could simply close your eyes and let your magic take you as far as your soul allowed, to meet up with other such astrally-capable elves, you could talk at greater distances and instantly. Letters were nice, they kept people in touch and recalled a time most barely knew: their time on Earth.

Talon dried the map by waving her hand over it gently, letting the ink settle and her magic bore into it. When it was finished, or as finished as it was going to be, she rolled it into a loose tube, and put a ribbon around it. She’d leave it on the desk, because that would be where whoever was going to use it would likely find it.

That was how this all usually worked.

They hadn’t gotten here yet, so she might have time to go and hunt a little, maybe they’d be here when she got back. Or, she’d be halfway back to Dare’s Valley when the call would go up. The Greater Wolves would always alert her or another of the group she traveled with, to any arrivals in the Hall.

The Lesser wolves would then fight for their territory again, always annoyed at the intrusion.

The Greater and Lesser wolves were of course related. The only difference, Talon thought with a twinge in her throat, was their elf blood brought by Fang and others…

Once she stepped foot outside, squelching into the thin cover of water which reached onto the slab of black upon which the Hall was built, Talon knew … she heard the howling already.

She shrugged it off, performed her magic and began to hunt. The swamp here was not busy with prey but there was always something large enough to put on the spit in the Hall, and if newcomers would be there, they’d be hungry sooner or later.

Talon hunted in a way that some elves didn’t really understand. Some took a spear, others used a bow and arrows, while others preferred traps. Talon was aptly named for the fact that she shapeshifted into a creature quite capable of dragging down a large deer without trouble – fangs, claws, fur and all. It usually freaked newcomers out when she transformed near them, heck, it sometimes freaked her old friends out. So she would be careful, she would hunt and bring the carcass into the Hall in her elfin form, and go from there.

She wasn’t distracted – all this thought she was doing was purely secondary to her skills as a shapeshifted huntress. Her dark, russet-black fur shed water easily, kept her warm. She had keen ears which swiveled around, and a tail for balance because she had ‘jacklegs’ with high heels and big paws. She could change to a fully four-footed version of this animal, whatever it was, but she rarely did. Doing that brought back too many memories, and she prefered to leave Fang and his bizarre habits out of it.

A splash nearby brought her senses into focus, and quickly enough she spied her prey: an eight-legged swamp-trundler. They were a bit badgerlike, but much larger and had of course those eight legs that made them look a little like a trundlebug. They weren’t much good at evading elves, but if another predator were to try and catch one, they had good defenses. They’d never learned elf scent, particularly Talon’s, and had never shown any fear.

Too bad, Talon thought, as she snapped its neck in her powerful muzzle. There was a lot of good meat on these things, but their hide was lousy for tanning. That thick, grizzly fur wasn’t as water tight as you’d think a creature living in a swamp might have, and there was always a lot of gunk on their skin. Maybe the gunk kept parasites off, whatever the reason, Talon would simply skin and gut the creature once she reached the Hall again.

The howling was stronger now, it must be a good large group on the way. Even so, she knew, it wouldn’t be all at once. No big group ever came at once. Even her own took a day or more to arrive. Time, she reminded herself, was like that here.

She shifted back into her more sedate, and reasonably attractive, elfin form. She had darkly tan skin, rich black hair that fell to her ankles, and black eyes which were narrow and slanted. She wore red-brown leathers that complimented the color of her skin, in boots and a body suit; her hair was kept away from her face by a bone and ribbon piece. She didn’t have a spot of blood on her, from this kill she was dragging in, that would look bad.

“Well about time,” someone said, female voice from just inside the Hall’s wide, flat entrance.

“Ah, I was wondering whether the other shoe was about to drop,” Talon said. If there was anything else that would herald the arrival of newcomers to the Otherforest, it would be the arrival of the first elf, Snowdrift. She had a way of knowing, it seemed, and was always on the move. “So come on and help me with this, will you? Is Streamseeker here?”

“He’s never here, but he’s out with the wolves. He says they keep him distracted. You know how he hates it when I’m in here.”

Talon and Snowdrift picked up opposite ends of the long, bumpy, leggy creature’s carcass and set it up across the large fire pit inside the main room of the Hall. Snowdrift had just arrived, clearly, her pack was still tossed in the corner of the entranceway, and she hadn’t taken off her travel cloak yet. She had long, shimmering silver-white hair, as long as Talon’s and exactly as shining. Her skin was pale, eyes a sunlit green. About as physically opposite the long, lean Talon – without being less attractive. She had muscular legs from walking, wider hips than Talon, and wore sturdy furs of white and grey over a blue woven cloth shirt and leather leggings that were naturally colored. Her boots were still a bit wet from the swamp outside, and as the fire got going they dried.

Snow had been fiddling with the tinder but eventually just concentrated hard and lit the fire with magic. It wasn’t her strongest suit: she was a healer and rock shaper at most, but every magic was at her disposal in some way. And just a spark would be enough, the fire pit responded with its typical ‘fwoosh’ of activity, and while there were always charred bits of logs and sticks, no one ever noticed any of them dwindling to the point where they’d have to replace them. Magic? Probably – not elfin magic, Alorel’s magic.

The elfin women slung the ‘trundler onto the spit above the fire, and prepared the area.

“Any idea who is coming?” Talon asked. “I mean, you always seem to be there, any clues?”

Snowdrift shook her head, “no, but… something about them is close to me, I don’t know why. Maybe close the way Blackbuck is close.”

“You mean they’re fictional?” Talon groaned. “Weren’t the dragons enough?”

Snowdrift rolled her eyes, “Talon, that wasn’t my fault. And no, I don’t think these people are fictional, and you have to admit that some of those muses were awfully cute.”

“I admit nothing,” Talon said, fluffing her hair over her shoulder. “I know where they’re going to live,” she said, and they went into the other room to discuss the map she’d been making an hour before.

And in that time, one of the Portals came to life.

It wasn’t a typical portal, it was one which Talon hadn’t explored and Alorel’s cryptic notes hadn’t really detailed either. It was dark-ish, not night-time black but shadowed. The portal might have been against something, perhaps an item was covering it, or it might have even been underground or in a cavern.

The Hall of Portals was a rectangular building, wider than it was long if seen from the front. It had slanting, angular walls which gave a sense of being crushed – but the truth was that the building had stood for millennia and had no intention of giving way. Along each of the walls were tall window-like portals, perhaps set gently into place by the Ancients, framed delicately by the black marble with a finger-wide ridge. A pace or two between each Portal, they lined up and lent light or darkness to the room with what ever was on the other side of them.

Two long trapezoidal shaped slabs were in the middle of the room, not reaching the ceiling, and more Portals were situated on them. In all, there were more than forty portals in this large room. One or two had things near them: one was literally boarded over, another had a stone jutting from it, yet another had vines and odd plant life creeping around the corner. Near the fire pit, there was a lot more ‘stuff’ on the floor than just Snowdrift’s pack and boots, there was a pile of items which had obviously been placed there.

By elves.

There was a basket with sewing equipment, another filled with cloth bits and leather pieces. Some large bolts of leather, finely tanned or cured by magic (it was both in some cases) lay over weapons and other items of interest. A mirror was carefully placed by one basket, and on the black marble floor lay dozens of handprints in ash – elf hands. Some were small, delicate, while others were heavy and wide. One or two actually looked like paw prints.

It was to this pile of stuff that most newcomers would be drawn. If it wasn’t by the fact that there was an actual pile of stuff sitting there, then by the way that it glimmered and shone in their magical senses.

No elf was completely without extra senses, it seemed.

The first to arrive in this case, while Talon and Snowdrift were discussing the merits or problems with foot travel over distances, was a slender, blond female. The portal from which she’d come lit up a little, with a sort of cyclical pattern around the edge. It glimmered steadily, as her form … appeared. Sometimes, through the Portals, one could see what was on the other side, including people or animals, movement. This time, however, it was simply dark, and then a congealed brightness, and then – a woman. She, like most of the newcomers who arrived through the Portals here, was only half-aware of herself let alone her surroundings, and she collapsed to the cold floor slightly off to the right of the portal itself.

That was good, because moments later another form came through it. An olive-skinned male with strong muscular form and a grey streak in his brown hair came tumbling similarly through, landing just to the left of the female. A few minutes later, another – male with curled tan-blond hair and a lighter, less muscular build than the first.

By the time the female was waking, sniffing at the air because the ‘trundler was beginning to cook properly, another female had landed on the pile of legs. A bit shorter, shapely and pale skinned, with hair that fell all around in a long platinum plume. She landed with a grunt, half awake.

The first female gave off a grunt, herself, when realizing she was face-first on a cold flat marble surface. She sniffed again at the air, and found she was hungry, though she didn’t even remember the last time she’d really eaten.

She didn’t remember much of anything at all just now. But that wasn’t the half of it.

Standing, unsteadily at first but then with ease she walked a few steps past one or two more portals to the left, noticing that they had window-like qualities. None of them were quite as enticing as the smell coming from around the other platform of portals, though. She stepped carefully over the other still-prone figures, all but ignoring them.

It wasn’t on purpose, really. Very few people on arrival to the Otherforest really knew what they were doing or who they were. It wasn’t her fault, in fact, that she stepped a bit on the hair of the later arrival, causing a bit of a twinge, and also sending the second woman a bit more awake.

“Hey, ow,” the pale-haired one said, rubbing the side of her head where her hair had been pulled.

“Tryin’ta’sleep’ere,” muttered the brown-haired male, who had buried his face in the crook of his elbow and was busy trying not to be cold on the floor. If he’d known that the girl he was muttering at had all that hair, he might have tried to wrap himself in it.

“Ah, get up,” the long-haired one said, nudging at him with her foot. She rose, looked at the dark, still-pulsing outline of the portal. “Weird. I’ve seen that before. I can’t remember where, though.”

As she was pulling herself to sit, and the brown-haired one was also rising, the portal glowed a little brighter, sent three pulses around in short order – they could make out almost arcane lettering in the glowy bits – and then another male shape came tumbling through it!

Tan skinned, with dark brown hair messy and mostly covering his face, he looked at least as strong as the first male but with a longer build to him. And he promptly fell unconscious, face first into the bunch of elves.

The third to arrive bore most of the brunt of that, but didn’t wake just yet. How that was possible, the other two couldn’t figure out.

“Nice faceplant there,” the wakeful male said, chuckling. “Hey, something smells good.”

“It’s over here,” called the first female to them, “it’s… cooking, I guess.”

“Someone’s cooking for us? All right!” He all but sprang to his feet and avoided tripping over the others in his haste to get to the fire pit. “Oh and it’s warmer over here…”

That roused the platinum haired woman, she tugged the ends of her hair free from the faceplanted male and made her own way toward the fire pit.

It was around that time when Snowdrift and Talon came back out from the office, saw the newcomers, and wondered what to do with them.

They were normal elves, in appearance, but Snowdrift looked at them oddly and said quietly, “I know them.”

“Oh, you did not just say that,” said Talon. “You’ve been here, not on earth, you can’t possibly know anyone just coming through.”

“Lies,” Snowdrift said, waving her hand in the air, “How else would I have known the dragon-clan?”

It was a mystery, but Snowdrift felt a kind of strange kinship toward these people. Though they didn’t even see her yet, they were a bit intent on the meat and warming up. The dragon clan had arrived some years earlier, through a portal which an elf of the same name, Portal, had accidentally created. They’d come, of all things, from the internet. There was no such thing on this world, at least not readily available. Portal’s home tree was filled with things like computers, microwave ovens, and video games – but they all were connected to Earth through tiny, elf-magic-made portals.

Was there a Portal here in the Hall that…. no, that couldn’t be, could it?

She walked around the newcomer and looked down to the end of the slab where the others still sat – one planted firmly atop the other, both soundly asleep. “Hum, I wondered about that portal, Talon, now we know, I suppose.”

“But that means it’s a human world,” Talon said, “it doesn’t lead to Earth, we know all the ones that do that.”

“Hey,” said the burly male as he approached the pair, “that looks good, um, it’s … got a few too many legs. What is it?” He peered at the cooking critter, and his blond companion did likewise.

“Looks like food to me,” she said, “but it’s nowhere near done.” She looked at the pair of older elves, “you caught this? Where? Not in here, right?”

Talon exchanged a glance with her white-haired friend, and nodded. “It’s from outside, and once you lot are settled and clothed, I’ll be happy to take you hunting.”

That brought a strange expression across the female’s face. By this time, the long-haired elfess and the other male had woken – the male having to disengage himself from the still sleeping ‘Faceplant’. They came around the dark corner, following their noses as well as the sounds they heard.

It came to the long-haired woman first, “we’re … naked,” she slightly moved her arms to let her hair settle about her shapely form.

“You’re elves,” Snowdrift said proudly.

“Our kind are humans from another world,” Talon said, beckoning the others to sit by the fire.

While she did so, Snowdrift leaned around the corner, seeing yet another entry (a handsome, unconscious, wavy-haired ruddy-skinned male) who deftly avoided slamming right onto Faceplant and almost balletically tripped himself right into another Portal before anyone could react. Snowdrift blinked, and hoped he’d be okay. They’d never had that happen before.

Snowdrift walked over to the slumbering elf, nudged him with one foot, and then roused him with a sharp noise from her clapped hands. “On your feet! No one sleeps that long with food cooking in here!”

“Ahwhawhohuh?” He said, shook his head and rolled onto his side. “Aaaannnd I’m naked.”

“We’re all naked,” shouted the blond woman, “get over it!”

“You fell on me!” yelled the brown-haired male, “jerk!”

“You gave him his name,” the long-haired girl said, “Faceplant.” She giggled. Snowdrift suppressed a laugh herself, and helped him up from the chilly floor. No matter how long anyone laid upon the stone, it never really warmed up. Before they got too far away from the portal, yet again it lit up around the edges and spat out another unconscious elf. This was an odd one, Snowdrift thought to herself, as the elfess shaped from light into form.

Faceplant sped over to the portal, and caught her before she landed on the hard floor. “Gotcha,” he snickered. “Naked,” he added a moment later.

Half a moment after that, the dark-skinned and pink-haired female left a hard, red handprint on Faceplant’s cheek, as she vaulted to the top of the portal’s angled slab. “Arr,” she growled. “Hands off.”

“As Talon was saying,” Snowdrift interrupted them with her hands at arms length between the pair, “she’s telling our history, you might be interested in hearing it. And there’s going to be meat, soon enough, and clothing. Go on.” She tossed her head, and the pink-topped girl sprang from one slab to the next, a good thirty feet, and slipped over to the other side. Faceplant blinked a couple times, noticing that Snowdrift was also a bit surprised by that feat, and went around to find the others.

“Aren’t you coming?” Faceplant asked, head tilted as he leaned back around when Snowdrift didn’t follow him.

“Nah, I’ve heard it a million times before. Besides, I’m the one she’s gonna talk about first.” She gave a toothy smile, and turned back to watching the portal. One last time, shortly before deciding to listen in on the history lesson, the Portal opened itself and dumped another male on the floor. There was a slight golden sheen to his skin, at first, but when Snowdrift looked again it had gone merely tan. Short brown hair and an average build, he would have to distinguish himself somehow – like everyone else – to gain a name. Until then, he would be ‘Eight’ …. of course, ‘six’ had gotten himself lost somewhere in another portal, and Snowdrift hoped he’d make it back soon.

“Come on, wake up, it’s time for you to be a new person,” she suggested gently, and the newcomer blinked away the brief sleep he had. “That’s it, up you go,” Snowdrift took his hand and noticed he had a firm grip. “Over that way, clothes and stories and hot food.”

He nodded once, and staggered somewhat blearily away. Snowdrift continued looking into the portals for ‘six’ until he literally lept out of one… not the one he’d fallen into.

“Wahoooo!” He cheered, almost falling into another portal, before Snowdrift caught him. He giggled a bit, seeming a bit giddy. “I found stuff,” he said, holding up a net, a weird hat, and sporting shorts which were long on him (and clearly not meant for an elf of his stature to be wearing, he had a tie on them keeping them up) and brightly colored for surfing or beach parties.

He sprinted around the corner, leaving Snowdrift to follow along after with some surprise.

Once he got there, the dark skinned girl lept back to her feet, and snatched the hat out of his hands. “Pirate hat!” She proclaimed, and upon putting it to her head it did indeed look a bit pirate-ish. With her bright hair, though, it was still somewhat odd.

Talon had suggested that they start digging through the basket and looking at the leathers, because they could usually tack together some simple clothing here and now, while she told her tales. It was the last newcomer, ‘eight’, who applied himself to this task and sized things up while the others merely allowed him to take measurements or appraise the work draped over their shoulders.

The fire pit was warm, a faint wisp of smoke seemed to drift upwards and out of the Hall, through means they assumed were magical or … something. Around the wide, low fire pit lay dozens of soft pillows, some of which had clearly been gutted some time before to supply the pile of clothing-materials over by the portals. Each elf took a couple pillows for themselves, and sat as attentively as they could.

Talon took a deep breath, and began speaking of the times long before now. She brought to mind a world of beauty and magic – but beauty touched with the reality of danger, magic that had yet to be explored. The portals to this world brought all living things to it – it had been barren before they opened. She knew now, and explained that they hadn’t known until more recently, that the Ancients had brought many of the portals together and put them here, in the Hall of Portals, to aid their work. The Ancients died out thousands of years before the first elf arrived.

The first elf, she nodded gently toward Snowdrift, brought with her the shape that humans from Earth use here. The magic that flows through every elf as well, was formed in the first moments that Snowdrift awoke. It wasn’t long before she met with the wolves, huge, intelligent wolves which formed close emotional bonds with their elf friends. And not much longer than that, when Snowdrift began bringing her friends to this world.

She alone, so far as could be told, maintained her elfin shape on Earth. Others lost it and reverted to their human form, but she was different. (Snowdrift looked away and began to blush, tilting her head at Talon and indicating with a mental nudge that the story could do without too much more of her in it.)

Each of the people who arrived, Talon explained, changed in ways that exploited their better points, or removed the bad ones. Blind men could see here; deaf girls learned to hear. Doctors became magical healers able to mend bone without cutting flesh to do it.

“We can do that?” Said the long-haired girl. Talon nodded, and indicated she’d get to that.

Over time, more and more arrived. They began to split up, moving to other locations so that they didn’t overcrowd, over hunt, or pollute. Since they didn’t have to worry about technology, in fact most didn’t even remember the word, let alone what it meant, they were a bit more attuned to the world and how it responded to the life in it. Events came and went: Alorel arrived, and disrupted everything for so many people. Snowdrift seemed to be less eager to hear about this, involved directly as she was. Fang, irreparably damaged in mind and soul by the experience turned his tribe into brutal hunters and kept others at bay for years.

Other creatures were encountered: the Urai in the south and the mountains to the west, huge bear-like creatures with six limbs and keen intelligence – intelligence granted them by a flesh-shaper elf that they learned to hate. The Hive in the northern forests, insect people who spin impossibly strong threads and trade with those who can stand to be near them. There was even brief mention, Talon said, of an avian species living far to the south in the tropics, but they remain elusive even after elves had inhabited the territory for eights of years.

“Yes, eights,” Talon said, holding up her hand which very clearly had only four digits. “We tend to count in fours and eights, hands, spans for counting time from the sun to the horizon.” She held her hands one atop the other as a demonstration.

All that led to the group suddenly realizing again: they weren’t human. They had four fingered hands, their toes went missing, they had pointed ears and weird hair. Their eyes were large, their heads slightly too big to be human proportioned. While they weren’t all sheer perfection, they were certainly healthy and strong in limb, give or take some extra padding.

‘Eight’ was still busy with the clothing, having mastered the cutting knife he located in the basket, and was threading colored twine into a needle. “I can see things, that aren’t here,” he muttered around the pins he clamped between his teeth. “Is that magic?”

“Yes,” Talon said, “each of you will have some kind of magic, though some may be stronger than others, and some might learn to use their powers differently than they’ve been done before. My friend Jade, for instance, shaped that leather you’re working with,” she indicated the dark brown mottled hide that ‘eight’ was holding. He held it up, and tilted his head.

“…. Is that what I see? It almost glows.”

“Hey it does!” The pink-haired pirate girl exclaimed. She started blinking, violet eyes darting around. She closed them, and giggled. “I can see them with my eyes closed!”

Talon waited for them to settle again (after the requisite touching things and turning things over, walking around stuff, and staring into the air – all auras of different colors that they could make out more and more clearly). She then began to tell them how to learn their powers. How each of them did have their own unique aura, and the shades within it would show what they might be good at.

“Though truth be told,” she said of ‘six’ who’d gone portal hopping, “I’ve never seen the color in yours before. That…. orange, I guess…”

“It’s quite bright,” Snowdrift said, appraising him. He stood there and then suddenly gave a flexing pose. Grinning madly, he flexed again, until someone poked him in the belly and he sat down.

“I can see that,” the male with the grey stripe in his hair said, “in fact, I can see a lot.” He blinked, but didn’t try focusing on anything in particular. “There are pale blue lines in the air, the firepit has red around it, I’d guess that’s fire magic?”

“Yes, and flight,” Talon said. “Do you see the stone coming from that Portal there?” She pointed at one a few windows away.

“It’s got a glow around it too, like a golden color,” he said. “And green, plants?”

They explored what they could see for a time, each of them pointing out something new, some unable to see the more subtle or old traces, while others could detect even very old traces.

“You’ll be able to practice your own magic,” Talon said, “once we leave here and go to Dare’s Valley.”

Snowdrift had gotten the map that Talon had made, and they all gathered around it. (Well, some of them did. Others like the Pirate girl and curly haired male, peered curiously into the office beyond the black walls but were beckoned back to the rest soon.

They all marveled at how the map’s images moved when they looked at it – and it wasn’t just an illusion that one or two could see. They each saw the movement of great herds of deer crossing the huge plains to the west, little ‘deathhead’ flickering signs near the swamp and the forests near it, waterfalls and many other little details came out when they focused on the images. Such was Talon’s magic.

“So we’re here?” Said Faceplant, pointing at the dark trapezoid at the eastern end, “right?”

“Yes, that’s the Hall,” Talon said. “We’re headed here, the Valley isn’t far but it is a few days away and you’ll want to have clothing, it’s getting into winter and even though we’re not used to snow out here, sometimes it’s quite chilly.”

“But we’re going to have to pass those little skull-things,” said the long-haired girl.

The Pirate gave a bold, false chuckle, “well there’s nothing like a few pirates, right?”

“They’re not lightly passed,” Talon warned, “Fang and his tribe aren’t the worst out there, the Runners are more mad than he – and that’s saying a lot.”

“Great,” the blond woman said, “well, if we ask nice, or maybe we can just go around.”

“The coast will be hard to travel, the sea is quite choppy this time of year,” Snowdrift said. “But it might be best, given where you’ll likely settle.”

“How do you know where we’ll settle?” Faceplant asked, not quite challenging but certainly intrigued.

Snowdrift blinked and smiled, “look inside your self, close your eyes and look around with your mind, and tell me where you keep looking?”

Almost as one, the group of eight turned and faced south-south-east, which would be the direction of that corner of the continent on the map which Talon had hesitated to name. With that in her mind, she added an odd statement.

“And you’ll want names, if we can give them to you, before we try crossing Fang’s territory.”

Snowdrift nodded, “that’s true, he always had a way with stealing names he liked.”

“This guy seems a little weird,” said the portal-hopper.

“He is more than a little weird,” Talon said darkly. “He’s dangerous.” She glanced around and narrowed her eyes. “The only potential shifters I can sense in this group are male, and that’s not as good as it could be.”

“Shifters?” Asked one, and Talon nodded.

“Some, like myself, have the ability to shift their own flesh into new forms. Fang is one, but he uses his shifting to harm others, when he can.” She looked away, her dark eyes finding the meat cooking on the spit and she suddenly distracted herself with it, by offering to cut it for the others.

They shared the meal of freshly roasted beast, some noting the spicy flavor of the tender parts, others wishing they had a little salt.

It was a while before anyone did much, other than ‘eight’ who was still busy sewing and holding his works up before tossing them at their intended recipient. All of a sudden though, the blond, the first to arrive in this group, stood and said, “what about the rest of the raid?”

The others sat and looked up at her in confusion. A couple still even had food half-chewed in slack jaws. As though she’d been sleepwalking, she looked at them all and abruptly sat down. She set her new garment on her lap and concentrated on it, instead of the weird looks everyone was giving her.

“Well what?” She said, after a moment more of silence. “We were doing something, weren’t we? I mean,” she paused and suddenly looked intensely at everyone, “the eight of us were doing something! I remember we were… going around this huge … place…”

Now, it was ‘eight’s turn to lean back and scratch his jaw in thought. “Come to think of it, we … well, was it us or … something else?”

“Eight of us, on a team,” Faceplant said in a kind of half-aware mutter.

“Pieces of eight!” Exclaimed Pirate, who got a pillow thrown at her. Several of them, in fact.

“No, no,” said the portal-hopper, “he’s right, we were on a team. We could only get eight on a team. I know that.” He looked at his hands, examining them and then putting his tongue in the corner of his mouth. “Eight fingers, eight team mates, it’s not a coincidence, is it?”

“I told you I knew them,” Snowdrift said, and Talon acceded with a nod. “I think you’re from Earth, but you’re coming through something different than a physical portal. I came through one when I was a teenager in school – a lot of us did. But recently…” Her green eyes sparkled, “there are different portals. Ones which don’t go directly to Earth, they go to the internet.”

Which was met with approximately four blank stares, three confused looks, and one extremely happy blond. “See, it wasn’t just me!” that one exclaimed.

“We were… playing a game?” Said the curly-haired male without much confidence. “I suppose. But how did we get here then?”

Snowdrift shrugged, “well I don’t know exactly but on the other side of the world from here there are people who came about the same way. It’s even possible that you’re not really ‘you’ – you might be just an image of you, I mean, I’m here twice, I can’t see why it’s not possible for others to-”

“Snow,” Talon said, “don’t even go there.”

Snowdrift looked at the others and chuckled, “I’m here twice, but my other is Blackbuck, he’s this guy—” She sent an image into the group’s minds.

That was the first time they’d been exposed to telepathy, even though they were supposedly aware from Talon’s stories and explanations, it was their usual and even preferred method of communication.

Snowdrift’s mind voice was somewhat husky, like her true voice, but it was edged with time and feeling. She was Snow because she had hair as white and shining as the substance. She was Snowdrift because she wandered the world. And that worldliness came across in her powerful sending.

The image she sent was of a tall, dark skinned and black haired male, whom she regarded with some amount of odd mistrust as well as a liberal dose of sexual attraction. Yes, all that came through with but one simple thought-image. There was very little that could not be conveyed – or prevented from being conveyed – in thought speech.

“Oh – sorry,” she said vocally. Talon sighed, and threw another pillow, this time at Snowdrift.

“Each of you has a mental voice,” Talon decided to continue their education, “and most likely a range at which your mind-voice can be heard and which you’re more comfortable sending in. Those are things you’ll learn quickly enough, it should come rather naturally.”

“That guy’s hot,” the portal-hopper said with a naughty grin.

“Yes, yes he is,” Snowdrift said. “He’s my muse, my invention. I didn’t really expect him to be here, but he’s with the Dragon-clan now.” That was met with a couple exhalations of faint disappointment. “What, we’re not hot enough for you?” Snowdrift threw her arms over Talon’s shoulders and gave the dark-skinned woman a big sloppy kiss.

“Woo woo!” Faceplant, the curly haired man and the grey-streaked male gave hoots and hollars, while most of the others giggled or looked a bit shocked. Snowdrift and Talon burst out laughing loudly, straightening their hair and getting back to their own pillows.

“You’ll find that sex around here is somewhat easy to come by,” Snowdrift said, and Talon pummeled her with a pillow. “I deserved that,” she continued as though nothing had happened, “but that’s because children are very rare. We’ve got privacy issues with our mental connections,” she said, and Talon nodded.

She continued where Snowdrift left off, “because we’re telepathic, and you’ve felt what it is like to see ‘inside’ someone’s mind now, you can tell that there is a very deep connection between people.” She gave a thoughtful look at the exit which was blocked by two walls of marble. “It can be a wonderful thing, that connection, but it is also dangerous in the wrong hands.”

“How can that be, if we’re just talking?” Asked the long-haired female.

“Well it’s not just talking,” Talon said. “Some of you might experience closer contact because your range is stronger, or you might be able to touch more people at once. But some can send much more deeply into the mind or memory, the soul. Some can reach in and take what they find there. It’s important to develop defenses against things like that. We call it a soul-name. It’s like a wall.”

“It’s also important,” Snowdrift said with a gentle touch on Talon’s hand, “to develop a soul-name for personal reasons, because if a partner comes along that shares it with you, there’s a chance you might be able to produce a child with them.”

“How lovely,” one of the women said.

“Well, it’s not all that bad,” Talon said. “I’ve had three children, actually…”

The Pirate girl stood up and said, “no way have you had kids, you’re all… all,” she waggled her hands in the air emulating ‘sexy womanish’ shapes.

“Well I am a shapeshifter,” Talon laughed.

“She’s also almost sixty years old,” Snowdrift added with a grin.

“Says the old geezer that was here that long before I came along?” Talon countered.

That left the rest of the group to sit there wondering whether they’d have to deal with weirdness like this every moment. Or whether maybe they’d get used to it?

“You’re not a hundred twenty,” said the long-haired girl. “Are you? I mean… you said you were in high school and you know about this … internet thing. If you’re that old, then when’d you get here?”

“No, I’m that old here,” Snowdrift said. “Time goes very strangely here. You’ll see, I think. I’m almost positive that you’re not done arriving. It might take eights of days for you all to arrive. When the Dragon-clan people were arriving, they took over a year.”

“Then what will we be doing there?” Asked Faceplant.

“I don’t have an answer to that question,” Snowdrift said. “I’m apparently at home, right now, Earth home I mean, meeting people and being on the ‘net, and all that. But I’m also here. Like I said, we all might just be reflections or spirits or something.”

“But she said you could return to Earth as an elf,” said another of the newcomers. “What’s with that then?”

Snowdrift shook her head. “I can’t explain, I think it’s best that we just wait for others to arrive, or one of us waits, while you lot get sent out to Dare’s Valley. The sooner you do that, the better. Fang will have to know by now, those wolves never stop howling when it’s time for new people to arrive here.”

“Noticed that, did you?” Talon asked. “Hey that looks nice,” she said of the outfit that ‘eight’ was making slight adjustments on, while it was simple it fit the curly-haired male well. Over the next hour or so, everyone digested their meal, the rest of the meat was cooked and stored away in what appeared to be Tupperware boxes in the office. It only fit, because there were things like a gigantic roll-top desk and clearly synthetic materials scattered around, as well as a fax machine (which had never, in Talon’s memory, received a fax – not that she had any idea what a fax was) and a mini-fridge. The haphazard technology mixed with the very rustic furs and wooden items, shaped metals and wrought iron candle holders, made the room altogether weird – but comfortable and indeed even interesting. A couple of the newcomers investigated what they could, conversing in hesitant terms about what this small oval object with inset buttons and a little logo on the top could be.

“Crossbeak’s here,” Snowdrift called from outside the Hall, and Talon clapped her hands a couple times to alert the group.

“Well children, we’re going to be taking the quick route,” she said. “Crossbeak is my eagle, don’t be afraid of him, he’s a softie.” She urged them to come around to the front of the Hall, around the dividing walls and out to where the setting sun barely illuminated the swamp outside.

“Oh, wait,” Talon said, in a bit of a hush. “I’d forgotten, that look.”

That look she was referring to, was shared by eight new elves as they stared out at the landscape beyond the black marble Hall. The entrance was angled, but still gave the weighty feeling of being crushed. Outside, the fog was roiling gently, the sound of birds in the deep distance called and were answered on the other side. The howling hadn’t stopped, it was more sporadic, but still audible. For some reason, almost every one of the newcomers understood what the howls were meant to convey: come out – come outside, leave that place.

The air was chill, and it was a good thing that Eight had made the progress he had on their clothing. For they knew then, this was just the start of Winter in a northern clime and they were going to be traveling a long way. A breeze swept in tendrils of the fog, but upon the wide, black slab of the Hall nothing grew. In fact it looked to a couple of them that the plants actually gave the place a wide berth – they didn’t grow on it because it was alien to them. Only the water crept slightly onto the pad supporting the heavy structure, and even that seemed bereft of any mold or moss growing on it. The slate color of the water was the only indication that the Hall didn’t just emerge out from the ground, it actually was a structure and not a growth.

Above, very uncomfortably, was a bird who called for his rider with a shriek. Fewer of the elves understood that call, but one or two interpreted it as ‘come on come on bad place leave’.

“Why do all the animals hate this place so much?” Said the long-haired female, in a hush.

“The place is giving me the creeps,” said Pirate, “the sooner we leave, the better. Come on! Arr!” She moved to the edge of the slab and looked up, spotting the bird above. Then, she lept into the air and landed upon the roof in one smooth motion.

“How’d she …” Said Faceplant, but then he shook his head. “Magic?”

“Must be,” said Eight, “that’s pretty cool.”

“Climb up over the tree here,” Talon suggested, indicating the nearby gnarled and high-rooted tree. She sped up into the tree and the others followed as they could. Some were clearly better at this than others, but most made it into the tree’s top branches without trouble. Snowdrift remained on the ground.

“I’ll keep the place warm,” she said, “there will be more on the way. Best not to leave them alone when they come.”

Talon nodded, and helped the others onto the top of the Hall. From there, they could really see how sparse the plant life was directly around it. This tree had remnants of shaping magic that brought it closer than most, and had a couple branches which were clearly used for this purpose. Once they were all on the building, they had a good idea of why the bird had been summoned to help. He was tall, perhaps four times the height of an elf, and his broad back could easily hold three or four elves.

“We can’t all fly on him,” said the long-haired one. “Are we going to make two trips?”

“She’ll fly,” Talon suggested of Pirate, who saluted with a broad grin. She was gently hovering in the air now, mastering her power over gravity. It seemed she was more comfortable either leaping around, or swooping, rather than holding still. What a surprise. “And I will too, only, not like this.”

Talon shifted her shape – the magic was all but blinding to a couple of the newcomers. Her body glowed with a strange red-violet shade, invisible to the physical eye but clear as day to those with the stronger magical senses. Her legs thinned, her body grew thicker and longer, and her arms broadened into feather covered wings! Her head was less bird like and more … well, she looked rather like a Harpy would if one existed. Perhaps because that way, she could still speak. She seemed aware that the new group wasn’t yet quite comfortable with telepathic speech. They would have to learn, soon enough, and she told them in no uncertain terms, “you’re going to be listening for my mind, so when you feel it in yours don’t freak out. We can’t all be talking and the wind makes it too hard to hear voices. Sending is the easiest way.”

Then she sent her thoughts, You can hear me, right?

The others nodded, eyes wide. Her mind was strong, direct, but so heavily shielded it felt like she had a lot to hide. Snowdrift’s voice was very open, though mysterious, and opposite Talon’s in many ways.

Then let us go. You can seat yourself upon Crossbeak, he’s used to carting people around.

The bird patiently stood lower, hunkering to the marble and spreading his wings slightly so that the elves could climb onto his back. Pirate floated, but that left seven to fiddle with who sat closest to the front and who would have to be holding the great bird’s talons on the trip.

“Erm,” said Faceplant, as he was one of those clinging to a feather-tufted leg, “how long is this trip going to take?”

Four hours to the Flats, normally it is a three day trek to the Valley but we can go direct this way and it will only take until tomorrow midday. We won’t have time for breaks until then, when we’ll be safer. Don’t fall off.

“…. Thanks,” he said, and hugged on tighter. The bird’s talons were curved and sharp, but also offered a good footrest when he took off. On his back, five elves clutched on for dear life. Eight, the tailor, was the other one dangling on the legs, and while he looked impressed and awed, like the others, he also seemed to prefer the comfort of the ground.

Below, as the bird took off and gained altitude over the dark swampland, Snowdrift waved and sent her wishes for a quick, uneventful flight, then she re-entered the Hall.