1. (Myth & Legend / Classical Myth & Legend) Also called Elysian fields Greek myth the dwelling place of the blessed after death.
2. a state or place of perfect bliss.
[from Latin, from Greek Ēlusion pedion Elysian (that is, blessed) fields]
“Israel Elysium is an old friend of mine. We fought together, a lot.” Venice was sitting opposite Gepard and Kallista, Niall at an angle to her right.
“So it was him that called?” She shook her head.
“Not at first, although it was from his phone. It was a young girl, and from her voice, I don’t think she could off been any older than nine years old.
She had explained that Israel had told her to call this number should he be unable to help. The girl, I think her name was Quinnera, had explained that she was a sensitive, and that she was scared. It had resonated through her voice, but so did her determination. Someone she loved was missing, and she’d seen him hurt in a vision. At that point, she started chocking up, and the explained that Israel had banned her and the other residents from hunting him down.” Kal’s head was cocked to the side, staring at Venice so intently that it was almost petrifying, especially from a girl who rarely focused for more than five minutes. Venice carried on, sending nothing more than a questioning look the way of the girl she loved like a sister, and who was practically her niece anyway.
“At this point, Israel came on, and explained the situation. Basically, the man she was missing is very old, and like a grandfather to her. However, he also said that this man – Octaboona Ambrosius – was not to be trusted. He’s a word mage, an old magic… oh. OH.” She looked at Niall excitedly, and he grinned back.
“No such thing. Just mysteries you can’t answer.” Gepard coughed loudly, interrupting them
“That’s wonderful and all… but hows about explaining it for those not part of this romance?” Niall responded with a withering look, but Venice just rolled her eyes, then clapped her hands.
“Right. I’ve got a plan.” Ignoring the sarcastic amazement, she picked up the phone, punched in a number, and handed it to Niall.
“Do you know how to do that speaker talky thing?”
“So, here are the facts. The probable author of that book is missing. An old man is being hunted. However, these hunters are coming back empty handed and unharmed. The aforementioned book is especially focused on peace and words and the power they hold. Tell me you see what I see Israel.”
“Ven, he’s over two hours away, of course he can’t!”
“Shut up Gep” They all chorused, subconsciously. Well, apart from Kallista, who was as silent as the grave. Niall pointed to the laptop on the table.
“Technically, he can see some of it.” He grinned at Venice “Lucky you’ve got a computer nerd for a… lucky you have me.”
“I know luv.” They were facing the large (but slim) laptop on the antique coffee table. The cold steel contrasted oddly with the elegance of the floral swirls. However, compared to the rest of the contrast in the old Victorian house, it was hardly noticeable. The chaotic simplicity of the place was everything she needed. Swirling flowers trailed out behind a vast mixture of bookshelves, and there was a telly somewhere, she just couldn’t place where, especially not since she’d worked out that DVDs worked in computers.
Meanwhile, one hour away by reckless motorbike, Israel Elysium was slouched in a chair facing the screen and his old ally, scowling slightly.
“Israel. I know that look. You know I want to save this man. But more importantly, I know you’re hiding something. You know something about this man that I don’t. And I can’t recall a time when you knowing something I don’t has ever ended well. Remember Maastricht?”
“Of course” he shifted in the old chair, trying to get comfy. He didn’t like this, it was so formal. Still, he saw the need for it in this circumstance. “All right, I’ll tell you. But promise not to hate me Ven. Remember Kjørholmane.” Both of their faces twisted at the memories of that culmination of a vile five years. He saw her nod through the screen.
“I remember.” She whispered, and then nodded again. “All right Israel. Tell me.”
Israel explained about Octaboona Ambrosius, about how he had turned up at the asylum, how Quinnera had formed an attachment to him, about the death of his young sister, about how he could control people with his words. Venice had been listening intently, concerned when she heard about Quinn and the sister, massively curious when she heard about the poetry magic. Israel had jumped when she’d shown him the book, remarking on how he always wore purple robes, and further authenticating the connection. Finally, he reached the end of his monologue.
“Ven, you should know that he claims to be as old as the ancients. He claims to be… Ven, mate, he claims to be one of the Last Great Immortals.” She sank into the chair, face stony, eyes glaring and hands clawed at the armrest. Then, she was out of sight in seconds. They all heard something thud, and a shriek of rage. Israel rubbed his forehead.
“Shit.” He leaned back in his chair “Shit.”