Silevethiel (5 page)

Brégen laughed.
«Oh, aye. She clearly overreacted.»

«What rubbish! You got exactly what you deserved.»

«You are probably right,»
the Guardian admitted.
«Still, it is all in good fun. Imagine how boring all of your lives would be without my foolishness.»

«That is true enough, my friend.»

Brégen’s next words once again impressed Laegon with how quickly the lion could switch between the serious and humorous sides of the conversation.
«The hour is late, Laegon. You must rest. I will question Silevethiel, but I suspect she will not divulge the answers we seek until she is in Irewen’s company. I will see you within the week. Be safe.»

«I will.»

«And Laegon...»

«Yes?»

«Do not let Irewen out of your sight, even for a moment. If my suspicions are correct, the entire world of Vaelinel is bound to her fate.»

FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE BEFORE HER FATHER’S, murder, Irewen woke from pleasant dreams feeling refreshed and energetic. Smiling lazily, she stretched her legs and opened her eyes to find Laegon once again stirring the small pot hanging above the fire. The comforting smell of porridge lofted through the expansive cave. She breathed deeply, relishing the delightful aroma. Testing her stability, she lifted her head slightly above the thin pillow and was quite pleased to find she wasn’t overcome with dizziness. Gingerly, she lifted herself into a sitting position. Answering Laegon’s frown of disapproval with a reassuring smile, she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

“I can see you are going to be a difficult patient,” he teased, handing her a bowl of porridge.

“No more than you would be, I imagine.” Her eyes twinkled playfully in the firelight. “I am well aware of the stubbornness of elves.”

“Take small spoonfuls and go slowly,” he instructed, ignoring her banter. “Give your stomach a chance to readjust to solid food.”

She bowed her head deeply, doing her best to feign seriousness. “As you wish, my lord.” Laegon handed her a small wooden spoon, and she bit her lip in a feeble attempt to keep her laughter at bay.

Laegon smiled warmly, glad for the lighthearted atmosphere. “It gladdens my heart to see you looking so well, Irewen. Your recovery will not take as long as I had feared. We will be able to leave much sooner than I had anticipated.”

“I do not mind it here,” she replied after swallowing a spoonful of porridge. “It is cozy and warm, and I am in safe hands. I know this may sound childish, but as long as I am here I can forget the outside world exists. I do not have to worry about where I will go or what I will do once I am able to leave. I can surround myself with fond memories and pretend my cousin’s betrayal never happened.”

“That is not childish. It is what anyone in your situation would feel.”

“Aye, that may be, but I cannot push reality aside for much longer. As dismal as it may seem, I must begin to think of my future. Though right now it seems the easiest solution, it is impractical to remain in hiding forever. There will come a time when I will need to confront Elthad. I cannot allow him to rule my people. I cannot allow him to lead them into destruction.”

“No, you cannot,” Laegon agreed, “but you also cannot simply return to Dargon and reclaim the throne. Elthad is cunning. You do not know the extent of his reach or how many followers he has gained in your absence. We have no way of knowing where the true loyalty of your people lies. Without their support, removing your cousin from the throne will be exceedingly more difficult than you may realize. Rule may be yours by right, but unfortunately blood is not always the deciding factor. Your first course of action should be to determine Elthad’s motives for your attempted assassination. Only then can you come to understand his intentions for the future.”

“As my only other living relative,” she mused, “he knew that with both my father and me dead, he would be crowned king. The question that must be answered is whether or not his actions were solely the result of his personal greed and desire. Were there other factors influencing his decision to order my death?”

“You mentioned you were resented by your aunt and uncle. Am I correct in assuming they were Elthad’s parents?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Though Garret was younger than my father, he and Elodia were married long before my parents. As a result, Elthad is almost ten years my senior.”

“What was the cause for their hatred?”

“When I was young, I believed that because of my birth, they would not inherit the throne upon my father’s death. However, as I grew older, my father hinted that the true reason for their hostility was my mother.”

“Because she was half-elven?”

“Aye, that is partly the reason.” She paused in recollection. “My mother’s reasons for keeping her heritage a secret all her life proved true in the end, but that was not the only reason she was despised. She was a commoner. Her father was a poor farmer from the lands north of Dürgeld. I do not know the heritage of her elven mother, but whether or not she was royalty would not have mattered. Her father’s blood, the human blood, was not of a royal family of Dargon. In Garret and Elodia’s opinion, my mother was not fit to be queen. Consequently, neither was I.”

“Was Elthad aware of your mother’s background? Did he share the same views as his parents?”

“I cannot say for certain,” she responded, “though it stands to reason. We were never close, but he always treated me well enough. Once my father appointed him the Captain of the royal soldiers, I hardly ever saw him. In fact, the morning of father’s murder was the first time I had seen Elthad in over six months.”

“If he shares his parents’ hostility, what will happen should he tell the people of Dargon about your heritage? Will their loyalty to you remain true?”

Laegon’s last words hung menacingly in the air like a pernicious shade. Silence fell between them. She looked into his eyes, her normally graceful features taut with fear. The thought that she wouldn’t be accepted with open arms upon her return hadn’t crossed her mind. Yet Laegon’s speculation held a certain degree of validity. Once Elthad became aware of her survival, the simplest and most effective way for him to ensure the people of Dargon remained loyal to him would be to reveal her ancestry. Once it was known she not only had elven blood, but the blood of a commoner, she would be an exile, never again able to set foot within the borders of her beloved country without fear of death.

She suddenly realized that although she had told Laegon she was a fugitive, she had never truly believed it herself. She had accepted that she would need to run from Elthad but hadn’t considered the possibility she would be shunned by her own people. She had fully intended to return to the castle in Dürgeld and reclaim the throne. If Laegon’s supposition proved true, as she suspected it would, the hopes and dreams that only moments before had given her life meaning and purpose would never come to fruition.

Lord Brandir had offered her refuge in Silverden, but because she was quarter-elven, she would never truly belong there either. She was completely and utterly alone.

“How could I not see?” she cried. “I have been such a fool. Though I knew it would take time, I planned to remove Elthad from the throne and avenge my father’s assassination. I never intended to take your father’s generous offer and seek refuge in Silverden. But now...” She paused and stared numbly into the fire. “There is nowhere else I will ever be welcome.”

“Perhaps you were a bit foolish, my lady,” Laegon replied tenderly, “but you were certainly not a fool. Without those intentions, there would have been no reason for you to fight for survival. Without them, not even Silevethiel would have been able to pull you away from the brink.”

“And would it have been a tragedy if she had not?” she snapped. “What did saving my life accomplish? What do I now have to contribute to this world? I am an outcast without anything to offer. My life has no purpose or meaning. I am nothing.”

“We all have a purpose in this world, Irewen, whether for good or for evil. You were meant to live, just as Silevethiel and I were meant to aid you. Perhaps the people of Dargon are lost to you. Perhaps there is nothing you can do to save them from Elthad’s maliciousness. But what of the rest of the world? What of the people of Thaurod and other countries, both human and elven, who have never been Dargon’s ally? What of the smaller kingdoms that Elthad could conquer in the blink of an eye? What of the elves of Mistwood who have offered you their safety and protection? Will you allow the rest of the world to suffer Elthad’s corruption? Will you help us stand against his evil?”

“Of course I will help, Laegon. Whatever his intentions, I could not bear to sit back idly and watch my cousin’s destructiveness spread throughout these lands. But I have no skills to offer. What difference could I possibly make?”

“I do not know much, my lady. But I am absolutely certain that you will make all the difference in the world.”

“I am glad you have such unerring faith in me, Laegon, for I have saved none for myself. Without your support I would be lost. Without
you
, I would be lost.”

Laegon met her gaze, his light olive cheeks turning a delicate pink at the unexpected sentiment. He reached over and brushed a stray curl from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

Irewen studied him, trying not to let her confusion show. What was happening between them? What was the reason for her attraction? Was it simply a matter of respect and appreciation for everything he’d done for her, or was it friendship? Perhaps it the beginning of something far deeper— something she never imagined she would come to experience.

Whatever it was, she never wanted it to end.

Intent on allowing himself time to sort out his thoughts and enjoy the crisp winter air, Laegon made sure Irewen was sleeping soundly before he quietly left the cave. He kept Brégen’s words of warning from the previous night close to his heart and didn’t go further than a few feet outside the entrance, extending the range of his Sight to ensure no one would take him by surprise. With his heightened senses, he would know immediately of another’s presence within a thirty yard radius.

Opening a channel to Irewen with his Sight, he was as aware of her condition as if he was the one resting securely near the warmth of the fire. He highly doubted there would be any disturbance; nevertheless, he erected a small magical shield around the princess’s slender form, providing her with added protection against the unlikely event of an attack.

Only once all of these defenses were in place did he allow himself to enjoy his surroundings. It had snowed twice more since they had sought refuge in Dremond’s Cave. Soon, he became entranced by the enchanted qualities of the winter wonderland. He was tall, even for an elf, and the accumulation of snow on the ground came just above his knees. Its smooth surface was beautifully devoid of even the tiniest of footprints.

Huge evergreen trees towered before him. Their branches, caked with inches of heavy snow, drooped so low that he was amazed they remained attached to the thick trunks. The few needles and branches devoid of snow were covered in tiny ice crystals that sparkled like diamonds in the afternoon sunlight.

Laegon imagined the setting would make the perfect home for miniature winter fairies—if such creatures existed. He could almost see tiny winged creatures clad in blue and silver flitting merrily about the ice and snow—oblivious of the troubles threatening their larger kin.

But nothing moved. There wasn’t the slightest hint of sound or the tiniest breath of wind. The stillness was almost unbearable. Save for each other’s company, he and Irewen were alone.

The calmness of the landscape was deceiving. He knew all too well how treacherous Mistwood’s conditions were in the winter. No one would risk an attack during the harshness of the winter months. He would keep his wards in place, but he suspected they had no cause for concern.

Somewhat more relaxed, Laegon let his mind wander to the princess’s elven blood. He knew Irewen’s ancestor wasn’t one of the Wood Elves. All elves in Mistwood resided in Silverden, making it an extremely tight-knit society. He or his father would have known if anyone had left for any reason, especially to marry someone outside the community.

No, Irewen’s ancestor was from one of the other three elven nations. But which?

He was vaguely familiar with the history of the Light Elves and knew even less of the Green Elves and Sea Elves. They were all extremely solitary and reclusive, and hardly ventured outside their lands, even to communicate with their distant elven kin. He couldn’t recall even one occasion in the Wood Elves’ recent history where they had any dealings with any of the other three elven races. Nevertheless, Brégen’s last words tugged at the back of his mind. He suddenly remembered a piece of the Light Elves’ lore and immediately opened up to his Guardian with Míendvel.

«Brégen,»
he asked,
«are you familiar with the prophecy of the Light Elves involving a woman with mixed blood who it is believed will unite the four elven races, saving all of Vaelinel from destruction?»

«Oh, aye, my noble prince. It is quite an amusing story.»

«Do you know anything more?»

«This is most intriguing. You have the beautiful and captivating Irewen to keep you company during these cold winter days. I would not have thought you would need my unparalleled storytelling abilities to fill the long hours.»

Laegon scowled, making quite certain the lion was aware of his disapproval.
«Do not be so impertinent, Brégen. Just tell me what you know of the prophecy.»

«As I am sure you are aware,»
the lion explained,
«when the elves first came to these lands, they were united as one people and settled in present-day Silverden. They coexisted peacefully for a time, but as the years passed, their differences slowly surfaced. Eventually, they divided into four distinct groups. The Wood Elves stayed at the settlement while the others left to discover and build their new homes: The Green elves to the east, the Sea Elves to the far southwest, and the Light Elves to the north.

«Many forget that at one time, all elves had the gift of Foresight. But since the Divide, only the Light Elves have been able to maintain the ability. Because of it, they are the most reclusive, even among their own kind. In general, the visions are extremely vague and frequently misleading. Even ones with exceptional farseeing ability can often times misinterpret what they see. That being said, every vision has come true in some form or another. All save one.

«The prophecy you spoke of has yet to be fulfilled. It was seen only a few years after the Divide by a young girl, no more than ten. The daughter of a Wood Elf and Light Elf, she was greatly affected by the elves’ bitterness. Shunned by both communities, Irwiendel and her parents were outcasts. They lived one day at a time, never staying long in any given place, until they met a sympathetic family who let them build a small cottage on their land.