The codex was useless where we were. If we were to build a settlement, it should be around water, food, and other resources.
The necropolis helped in more ways than one. Its towering pyramids provided the needed elevation for us to look above the storm. We had found mountains to the north. There should be water because there were trees.
We laid our dead in the crypts. There was no need to disturb the bones inside. Unlike other races, elves did not decompose, and our corpses would not need to be encased. But we did not intend for the tombs to be their final resting place.
"I will plant a Whitewood tree, and I shall return for you, my loves, and lay you under the shade," I swore before my family, before we set out the next day.
With our dead, we left our terribly sick and their families, along with most of our remaining supplies. Less than 500 of us continued the journey, less encumbered but without food or water. By our estimation, we would reach the mountain range within half a day.
We readied ourselves to endure another five hours more of enduring the tortures of the desert. But mid-journey, the winds began to weaken. The fury of the sands slowly cooled down. Another hour, and the sandstorm that had hounded us for almost three weeks suddenly ceased.
Revealed before our eyes were the mountains we saw from the perch of the pyramids. Unfamiliar trees, but trees nonetheless, coated the heights in their thousands. And there was more than what was promised. A river flowed down from the peaks and continued down below, allowing a grassland in the immediate surroundings of the mountain.
Cheers erupted from thousands of elves. Alas, our search was over.
I burst into tears. Not out of joy but bitter sadness. The cheering slowly stopped when they saw me weeping. Elendil embraced me, and I wept like a child on his shoulders.
How was I supposed to rejoice, knowing the end of those most dear to me was one of suffering? The codex, the river… I had been robbed of the appropriate happiness for their discovery.
I left my brother's embrace. The tears were not enough. I stepped forward, the mountains in front of me and a silent crowd behind. I stretched my hands wide and began to sing a song of sorrow—the Lament of Calanon.
"What use are the strings of the lyre, when there's no more a song to sing? Why is there still thirst and desire, when there's no more the quenching spring?" I sang the first lines of the long composition originally written by my great-grandfather Calanon for the loss of his wife.
One by one, others joined in until there was a choir. For the first time, the sands heard the beautiful music of the elves. Singing and crying, like we did back in our beautiful home worlds, we marched onwards to the saving waters.
---
For the first time, I saw a different expression on the smudgy faces, other than dazed or pained. Some of them were even laughing and giggling. The little kids played and splashed each other. It was bittersweet, seeing entire families surviving the march.
I wished I could borrow their smiles.
The scent of roasted meat filled the air. Wherever there was a grassland, there was game to be hunted. A large herd of four-footed, horned herbivores was nearby, and Elendil and his underlings slaughtered them to feed us all.
"It tastes like docerai… or that exported meat from Earth called venison," commented my brother as he savored the food with every chew.
I nodded, agreeing but not enjoying it as much as he was. My appetite was yet to return. I was eating merely because my hungered body craved sustenance.
But physically speaking, I was the most comfortable I had been in a long time, beneath the shade of that tree, sitting on the large protruding roots with my brother. And I felt terribly guilty.
"After we've eaten and rested, send a few hundred to bring food and water to the ones left in the necropolis," I said after another forced swallow.
"Wouldn't it be better if we just bring them here? We have wagons we could empty to transport those who can't travel," Elendil said.
"No," I scanned the surroundings, "As it stands, they are better sheltered in the tombs. We don't know if the storm is done with us, or if this place is safe from hostile beasts. We'll build houses first."
"Houses?" my brother's forehead creased. "That will take some time. We were allowed to bring only the most rudimentary of tools… axes, knives… we weren't even allowed to bring swords."
I realized I had not told him about what I discovered in the heart of the necropolis. In fact, I had told no one, not even the scouts that led me there. They had looked at me confused as I strode out of the pyramid, and with the book gone.
I was about to tell him when his attention went to something or someone behind me. I turned my head around and saw one of the assigned sentries briskly walking in our direction. Earlier, the first ones to finish eating, I had sent to watch around our surroundings for dangerous animals.
"Is something the matter?" I asked the elf before he could speak.
"Yes, my lord… we have encountered a village further along the river. They are a human-like people, like the ones we saw in the engravings on the tombs," the sentry said with excitement and a smile.
It was just as I had expected. If there's a burial site, then there should be a civilization. And by the size of the necropolis, there should be a big kingdom not too far away.
Elendil mimicked the sentry's bright expression. "Should we make contact? Maybe they will be of help?"
I did not entertain the idea for long. I recalled the reason why we were even exiled here in the first place.
"No… we are done trusting, Elendil," I shook my head. "Not to mention, natives do not take kindly to otherworlders, especially in the thousands."
I stood up and dusted my clothes. "We fortify ourselves as soon as we can."