Entalaya

A Story by KyraGlowWater

Entalaya

By Marni Stokes

IceFire

When I was alive my name was Entalaya or IceFire in slievic. This is the story of my nation Slievicia and our rise to freedom.

The Month of Ice

I was born on the first day of the month of Ice. My mother named me Entalaya, the literal translation means fiery ice, for my flame red hair. It was the second year of our country’s oppression to the Grok king Ashflink the Cotreve. My family lived in the small village of Gredvence, a small area of Slievicia untouched by the atrocity of the Groks. Our home would soon come to their attention.

14 years later

“Entalaya, you come back here with those Entaslieves!” Syrein, the herbalist yelled at me.

Entaslieves are small basil like herbs but are deadly to eat unless cooked properly; they are also the main ingredient to my favorite colors dye. I was the well known trickster of Gredvence; my tricks always had the color turquoise somehow incorporated into them. This time I didn’t need the Entaslieves for a trick but in fact my Elsvic gown.

Elsvic is a holiday celebrating the goddess Frydoni’s birth and escape from the fire of Sorler. There is always a girl who is born on the first of Ice in the village until they are married they will continue to be the Frydoni’s daughter. So I am the Frydoni’s daughter again so I must make a new dress.

By the end of the day the festival was beginning and I had just put the finishing touches on my dress. I have to start the dancing, and be the first to catch an Entaferig. An Entaferig is an ice cat. The Entaferig helped Frydoni escape from the fire of Sorler, by sacrificing herself, by clearing a way for Frydoni. Entaferigs are sacred for this, and are protected fiercely. I had just caught an Entaferig when I heard a loud crash at the gates of the village everyone was silent, we could hear the snarling of Vryconsivils that Groks ride. I heard the low moan of a Gomoona, then nothing. The night was still as if the Vriek itself was holding her breath. Then all hell broke loose as Vryconsivils bearing Groks crashed into the clearing. Though our valley had hid us from this violence, we had still learned to fight with our fangs and claws. I danced quickly away from the crooked teeth of a Grok. I started to run but I tripped on my dress.

“Mahine! This is why I hate dresses!” I yelled while tearing the skirt off at the knees with my fangs.

I pulled out my entasvl'k and layasvl'k and yelled a war cry.

“Barskứrl, prepare a hrok-laya, you’re going to need one after tonight!” I snarled savagely.

I spun my svl'ks quickly beheading any Grok within a 3 criged radius. My ears were flicked toward a small movement behind me I twirled around with my catlike grace and saw a grok with a enta colored hair creeping up behind me. I smirked mischievously, at him.

“Your mother was a Mahine aardvark!” I spat at it. I am loosing my touch at colorful insults seriously I don’t even know what an aardvark is. I thought.

“Your mother was a Mahine Sävaintolk!’ I corrected after it looked at me like I was crazy. I don’t know what an aardvark is, but I think I would be insulting the poor aardvark if I stayed with the previous comment.

I sliced it head of quickly during its confused state of being.

I grinned flashing my fangs.