There had been a time when the full moons brought pilgrims from far and wide to visit The Vale. Traders and tourists, statesmen and kings, would gather to wait for the appearance of the bridge, before crossing over to spend a festive night with the Elven. But those days were long gone.

Davidor and his family’s entry into The Vale a year ago had attracted little attention. The Elven had gone about their business without so much as a nod hello. So it was something of a surprise, this time, when Davidor emerged from the gloom of the tunnel to be met by rapturous applause and cheering from an immense crowd.

Of course, the warm welcome fizzled to a disappointed murmur once they realised it wasn’t their beloved 1st Legion.

A soldier ran past Davidor and stopped in front of Roona’s horse as she slid off her saddle and set foot on the ground she had once called home.

“Welcome back, First Warrior.” The soldier was wearing the fancy armour of the Royal Guard, all red epaulets and gold fringe. “The Queen will greet you in the Great Library.”

“Thank you, but that title no longer belongs to me.” She handed him the reins. “Take care of the horses, will you?”

The soldier nodded and signalled to the soldiers behind him. “Your escort, First... I mean, Lady Roona.”

The others dismounted, apart from Titch who hopped up onto his saddle and stood with hands raised. “People of The Vale! As the newest member of the 1st Legion, I thank—”

Fen yanked him off the saddle and carried him away over his shoulder. The crowd parted to allow them through, escorted by soldiers on all sides.

Gart walked quickly, forcing the soldiers to match his pace. Fen walked beside him with Titch in between them, jogging to keep up.

“Why are you walking so fast?” Titch complained. “We don’t all have stupidly long legs.”

“The faster we get her, the sooner we leave.” Gart looked over his shoulder at his parents following at a more leisurely pace with the rearguard. “Why do we have to go all the way to the library? She should have been waiting for us at the entrance, bags packed.”

“You know why,” said Fen. “She’s up to something. Personally, I’m looking forward to finding out what it is. Your problem is, you don’t understand how girls think.”

“And you do?” said Gart, incredulous. “You can’t even remember their names.”

“She has to be devious because otherwise no one listens to her, even when it’s something worth hearing.”

“I don’t care,” said Gart. “I’m not doing it.”

“See?" said Fen. “You don’t even know what it is and you’re already dismissing her. It’s not nice being ignored, you know?”

Gart glanced over at Fen. “Yes, I know. I’m still not doing it.”

“I am,” said Titch. “I’m going to help her.”

“Why?” said Gart. “I thought big sisters were a pain.”

“They are,” said Titch. “But it’s got to be better than sitting around watching bandits beg for mercy.”

The soldiers left them at the entrance to the Great Library. The librarian beckoned them towards a door. “The Queen is on her way. Your daughter is in here.”

Inside the room, Igail sat at a large table piled high with books of varying sizes. A well-dressed elf stood behind her chair, his posture stiff, eyes alert. As soon as she saw her family, Igail jumped up, smiling. She was wearing a green gown, embroidered with gold silk, and her hair had grown out, hanging in ringlets.

“You’re back! I’m so glad to see you all.” She ran to hug Davidor and Roona in a wide embrace. She ignored her brothers and returned to her chair, where she linked arms with the young elf. “Everyone, I want you to meet my husband.”

Igail’s eyes, brimming with excitement, went from face to face. Each was a picture of utter disbelief, none more so than the elf whose arm she had grabbed.

“Not really!” She released the arm. “I’m joking.” She pointed at Gart’s face, which had turned an odd shade of green. “Got you!”

There was a moment of confusion as everyone looked at each other, and then Davidor roared with laughter. “That’s my girl! You should have seen your faces.”

Roona scowled at him. “You didn’t exactly look overjoyed, yourself.”

“Of course,” said Davidor. “That’s what makes it a good gag. Well done, Iggy.”

“So who is he?” said Gart, once he’d taken a few deep breaths.

“No idea,” said Igail. “I think he works in the kitchen.”

The elf, who had remained open-mouthed since being announced as Igail’s new groom, pulled himself together. He stepped forward and bowed his head. His garments were beautifully tailored, accessorised with a short brocade cloak and jewelled bracelets on each wrist—hardly the outfit of a kitchen skivvy.

“Lady Roona, I am Retyl den Fak. The Queen asked me to ensure Lady Igail was treated with the utmost respect and courtesy while she visited with us.”

“Kind of young for a bodyguard, aren’t you?” said Davidor. The elf looked to be in his twenties. In Elven terms he would be considered a teenager.

Retyl turned to face Davidor and bowed his head again. “Saviour, it is an honour to meet you. The Queen felt someone around the same age would be—”

“Wait,” said Igail. “So that’s why you were always hanging around the library? You’re not one of the kitchen staff?”

“No,” said Retyl.

“But why were you always offering to get me something to eat or drink?”

Retyl shrugged. “Manners?”

There was a commotion at the doorway and Queen Lyr came in, followed by a retinue of guards who fanned out behind her and took up positions along the walls.

“Ah, you’re here. Good. As you can see, my granddaughter is perfectly fine, as promis—” The Queen did a double-take. “Wearing a dress, for a change. Most of the time she’s been wandering the stacks in hunting gear. You look quite lovely, dear.”

“I am grateful to you for watching over her, Mother,” said Roona. “Thank you.”

“Yes, we’re all very grateful,” said Gart. “But now that Lady Igail has seen the Great Library, can we go?”

Gart’s tetchy outburst drew everyone’s attention, but he wasn’t cowed by the disapproving looks. “I’m sorry, am I being rude to the people who treated me like I didn’t exist for the first six years of my life?”

The Queen clasped her hands together and winced. “Gart, I’m sorry if—”

Gart stepped past her. “Iggy, where’s your stuff?”

“Actually,” said Igail, “there is something else I need to tell all of you.”

Gart growled. “I knew it.”

“Come on, now.” Fen placed a hand on Gart’s shoulder and pushed him down into a chair. “Let’s hear her out. I could do with some entertainment.” He took the seat next to him and put his feet up on the table, leaving a deep scratch in the flawless surface.

Igail sent a grateful nod in Fen’s direction. She flattened down the front of her dress and cleared her throat. “While I was going through the books in the library I came across some interesting information. We’re about to be attacked by an enemy. There’s no need to worry, though. This time, we can stop him before he gets to full strength.”

“This time?” said Davidor. “Who is this enemy?”

“The Demon God. Wait—” She quickly tried to cut off the protests before they began. “I know you already killed him, but it turns out gods don’t really die, they just wait to be reborn.”

“And you read about this in a book?” asked Roona.

“Yes. This one.” Igail rested a hand on the largest book on the table. If she picked it up, it would shield her from neck to waist.

“This is a book that predicts the future?” asked the Queen. She stepped forward and opened the giant tome. Columns of small, neatly written numbers covered the pages. The Queen turned to the next page, and the next, but they all looked the same.

“It didn’t make sense to me at first, either,” admitted Igail. “But, it’s actually a detailed history of the Demon God’s appearances, cross-referenced against dates and astronomical positions.”

Titch, who had taken a seat next to Fen, raised his hand as though wanting to ask a question in class. “Can I go watch the 1st Legion’s arrival? I’ll come back when Iggy’s finished being boring.”

“I thought you were going to help her,” said Fen, elbowing him in the side of the head.

“I will,” said Titch, rubbing his temple, “with fun stuff—not homework.”

Davidor placed a hand on Titch’s head and ruffled his hair. “Now, son, this could be important.”

Igail clenched her fists and shook her head. “I’m not doing this right. Let me just tell you what I found out. The Demon God has a thing for dragons. He comes back as one nearly every time. Dragon eggs take a long time to make, that’s why he only reappears after such a long time, but there are ways of speeding up the process.”

Titch raised his hand again. “Don’t you need a dragon to lay a dragon egg?”

“No,” said Igail. “Dragons are creatures of magic and their eggs have to be constructed. The Church of the Demon God was established for this purpose. The priests are trained to use their life-force, their mana, to form the egg. The closer they get to death, the more pure and powerful their mana becomes. If they’re willing to die for their god, they can create an egg in a few years.”

Davidor picked up a book from the table. “And you worked all this out by yourself?”

“No, I had help,” said Igail. “He was supposed to be here, but he’s very forgetful.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve never missed an important meeting in my life,” said a voice from behind her. A tall and thin elf with long white hair plaited down to his waist and a beard of matching length, entered the room. His face was lined and wrinkled, an unusual thing to see on an Elven, but then he was over a thousand years old.

Igail threw her arms around him. “You came.”

“Of course. I just don’t see the point in arriving early to these things. There’s always a lot of explanations no one really cares about.”

“I don’t know who the old guy is,” said Titch, “but I like the way he thinks.”

“He is Tas Tel Muir Ley,” said Roona. “He is the the most revered and cherished Elder of the Elven. And, he is your great, great—” she paused to think “—great grandfather.”

“Oh,” said Titch. “Hello, Gramps!”

“Hello, young man. I have heard much about you from your sister. I certainly hope none of it’s true.”

Titch grinned. “Prepare to be disappointed.”

“So this where you’ve been hiding yourself, “ said the Queen. “You’ve been absent for three symposia and five gatherings of the clans.”

“As I said, I never miss an important meeting. Now hush, little one, and sit down. We have things to discuss.”

The Queen flushed from being referred to as ‘little one’, but she sat down.

Tas sat down next to her. “Gart and Fen. No mistaking you two. I wonder if I should send out a Vale-wide edict for everyone to lock up their daughters?”

Fen laughed but Gart folded his arms and remained stoney-faced.

“I could declare a national emergency.”

Gart leaned back in his chair, resolutely unamused.

“Is he always this serious?” Tas asked Fen.

Fen nodded. “He has Mother’s sense of humour.”

“Tas,” said Davidor. “What nonsense have you been filling my girl’s head with?”

“Nice to see you, too, Saviour of the World. Quite the grand epithet you’ve given yourself. Not that I’m one to talk. I have more fancy names than I can remember. That’s the trouble with being Undeniable, people keep wanting to bestow honorary titles on you.

Gart sat up. “You’re Undeniable, too?”

“Yes,” said Tas. “My first wife was a hopeless romantic. Gave her life so I wouldn’t die of an apple-spider’s bite. Sweet girl. I wish I could remember her name…”

Titch nudged Fen. “He’s like you.”

“No,” said Fen. “I can’t remember names because there’s so many girls, he’s just senile.”

“You know,” said Tas, “just because I’m Undeniable doesn’t mean you can’t hurt my feelings.”

“Sorry,” said Fen, embarrassed to be overheard. Unlike Gart, he wasn’t one to offend people so easily. “I was joking. I don’t really think you’re senile.”

“Oh, I don’t mind that. It’s the suggestion you’ve had more girlfriends than me that I object to. Do you have any idea how old I am?”

“No,” said Fen.

“Oh. I was hoping you might know. Well, it’s a lot of years, and I’ve been popular with girls in all of them, I’ll have you know.”

“You’re one thousand and seventy six years old,” said Queen Lyr. “Which you would know if you bothered to come to the birthday celebration we hold for you every year.”

“Every year? Sounds like fun. When’s the next one?”

The Queen stared at him, unable to ascertain if he was teasing her or if he’d forgotten his own birthday.

“If you’re Undeniable,” said Gart, “why did you send all those people to fight the Demon God? Why didn’t you kill him yourself?”

Tas nodded. “I could have done that. But you see, when you become incredibly powerful and almost impossible to kill, winning battles turns out to have a rather unwelcome side-effect. I discovered that those I strove to defend slowly became weak and lazy. The more I did for them, the less they were able or willing to do for themselves.”

He turned to look at Davidor. “Haven’t you found that to be the case? That it’s easy to stifle the growth of those you wish to protect?”

Davidor’s brow furrowed but he said nothing.

“Anyway,” said Tas, “I decided to let others face the Demon God to help them become stronger. There were many complaints, of course. Accusations that I was failing to do my duty. But it’s very hard to threaten someone immune to injury. I left it to those who would benefit most from the experience, and I intend to do the same this time.”

“So, what my daughter says is true?” said Davidor.

“Yes. The Demon God will return, and he will most likely be in a foul mood.”

“Even if that’s true,” said Roona, “why would the Demon God be in such a rush to come back?”

Igail pointed a finger at Davidor. “Because of you.”