Silevethiel (10 page)

Laegon grinned. “You never cease to amaze me, Irewen. Only a minute ago you were telling me you were afraid to do what you knew you must. Now, you have hurled aside those fears and are on the verge of stealing my weapons.”

“I came to the conclusion that I need to do something drastic,” she replied candidly. “I need to do it now. I am comfortable here. It is easy to use my weakened condition as an excuse for my indecisiveness. In order for me to overcome my fears, I cannot wait until we leave this cave to take my first step, slowly crawling my way towards realizing my confidence. By then, it would be too late. I would never break free.”

“I knew you would come to realize that eventually,” Laegon replied, quite pleased with her response. “I am in total agreement with everything you have said. Unfortunately, I am going to keep my weapons securely at my side. You have yet to gain enough strength to wield any blades safely.

“That does not mean your instruction cannot begin immediately,” he continued quickly, smiling inwardly at the deadly glare she’d flashed in his direction. “Before anyone even thinks about touching a weapon, they must understand its function, for not all blades are equal. They are created for varying purposes and will serve you differently depending on your situation. Today we will focus on the elven short sword, dagger, halberd, and longbow. Tomorrow you will learn the weapons of your enemy.”

Standing, Laegon gathered the small cast iron pot. “Well, come on then,” he said playfully. “You do not expect me to prepare another meal all on my own, do you?”

She took his outstretched hand. “I would not dare,” she replied as he helped her stand. Together, with Laegon’s arm securely around her waist, they slowly made their way to the entrance of the cave. After lingering only long enough to scoop some snow into the pot, they returned to the warmth of the fire.

Her muscles screaming in protest, she didn’t argue when Laegon helped her settle on the bedroll. He hung the pot over the fire before taking a small parcel of crújend from his pack. A hard type of elven bread, crújend was known for its hearty sustenance and was generally used for long journeys. Also known for its unutterably bland flavor, Irewen was reluctant to take the piece he offered her.

“It is not as horrid as you may think,” Laegon reassured her after noticing her hesitation. “It has a delicate floral flavor with a hint of lemon. Dried lavender and lilac petals are ground into the flour. It is actually quite tasty.”

Cautiously, she took a small bite and was delighted to learn his description was correct. “It is delicious!”

“Do not eat too quickly,” Laegon warned her as he dumped a few handfuls of grain into the boiling water. “Your stomach is still adjusting to solid foods, and this delicious porridge is yet to come!”

She wrinkled her nose. “If I had known you were simply making porridge, I would not have offered assistance!”

“Never fear,” he replied cheerfully. “Later we will put our culinary skills to the test by preparing a venison stew. Now, make yourself comfortable and listen carefully. Your formal training is about to begin!”

Laegon waited while Irewen arranged the woolen blanket over her legs before continuing. “We will begin with the smallest bladed weapon, slowly working our way towards the largest, and end with the longbow. This will be quite a bit of information to take in at once. I do not expect you to remember everything. There will be a great deal of new vocabulary and perplexing concepts. Do not hesitate to interrupt with any questions.”

Nibbling on the crújend, Irewen nodded her understanding. She listened to his words eagerly, soaking up the information like a sponge as the minutes turned into hours and the brilliant colors of dusk drifted into the cave.

THE FOLLOWING TWO AND A HALF DAYS SEEMED TO fly by as they concentrated on Irewen’s training and recovery. She was quickly able to learn the parts, characteristics, and uses of all the elven weapons as well as those most commonly favored by men.

Her strength improved enough by the morning of the second day that Laegon began her formal instruction with the short sword. Her muscles tired quickly, but she impressed him with her aptitude. Her reflexes were sharp and her movements precise.

But what really caught Laegon’s attention was the look in Irewen’s eyes when they sparred. Whatever he did to intimidate her, she never faltered, never wavered. Not once did she display even a hint of uncertainty. There was no weakness in her cold, calculating stare. No vulnerability. For someone who claimed she’d never been prepared to rule, her tenacity was astonishing.

Though it would take time for the princess to hone her skills and tone her body, Laegon instinctively knew he’d met his match.

When not engrossed in her training, they spoke of the past and of the future. Of their hopes and their dreams. Of their fears and trepidations. And amongst the tears and laughter, they grew closer to one another than either one of them had ever thought possible.

Chewing on a small piece of salted pork, Irewen sat behind Laegon with her back propped against the caramel rock of the cave’s wall. She studied the prince’s movements as he prepared their mid-day meal. During the training exercises, she’d become intimately familiar with his body, and knew he was becoming just as familiar with hers. She’d not reacted with bashfulness or embarrassment as she might have done a fortnight ago. Instead, she used the circumstance as motivation to erase even the slightest shortcoming she had regarding muscular tone and strength.

She stood and nonchalantly circled the campfire before stopping next to the elf. “Is there anything I can do to help?” She peered over his arm at the bubbling porridge. They’d consumed the last of the deer stew the previous night. “I am not as feeble as I appear, you know.”

Laegon looked up from the steaming pot and smiled. “When we have something more exciting to prepare than porridge, you may assist me all you like. You will find that my culinary skills do not advance much beyond what you have already had the pleasure of tasting.”

“The crújend is delicious!”

“And so it should be!” he proclaimed. “It was prepared by the finest cook in Silverden!”

“Oh, come now, you are not giving yourself enough credit. There must be something else you can cook besides stew and porridge!”

“Alas, my fair maiden, there is not.”

“And any sensible elf in all of Mistwood will tell you exactly the same thing!” boomed an unfamiliar voice.

At the sound of the new voice, Laegon and Irewen turned to see a rather jovial elf enter the cave.

“Perendin!” Laegon exclaimed. He went to the elf and firmly clasped his left shoulder in greeting. “It is good to see you, my friend!”

“And the same to you, my prince,” Perendin replied, returning the heartfelt gesture. He turned his attention to the small pot, practically overflowing with the steaming porridge. “I see you have prepared for my arrival,” he continued, eying Laegon’s creation with reluctance.

“Aye, my friend! I have been tracking your progress since you passed within the boundaries of my Sight. I made certain this delicious and hearty gourmet meal would be ready the moment you stepped foot inside this humble abode.”

“Humph, you might have told me,” Irewen interrupted, glowering at Laegon. “I was wondering why you cooked enough to feed a small army. All this time I thought you expected me to finish that entire pot! You would have saved me a great deal of anxiety had you explained that properly.”

Laegon winked as he bowed towards her, making a point of exaggerating his movements. “You have my deepest apologies, my lady,” he answered, laughing heartily. He glanced up to see Perendin staring at them in sheer bewilderment.

“Perendin,” Laegon continued. “May I present Lady Irewen Donríel, Princess of Dargon. Irewen, this is Perendin Galdrel, Culthen of Mistwood.” He paused, looking at her questioning glance. “Knight of Mistwood, in the common tongue,” he explained.

“It is my pleasure, Princess Donríel,” Perendin said. Kneeling, he took her hand, lightly kissing the ring on her middle finger.

Irewen looked at Perendin with mild astonishment. She’d forgotten she still wore the ring of her bloodline. Suddenly, it felt like a lead weight resting on her finger. The elf’s gesture of veneration seemed completely foreign to her, and she did her best to hide her discomfort. “That is not necessary,” she said, motioning for him to stand. “Only Laegon is required to bow before me. Please, call me Irewen.”

“It is good to see that at last someone has discovered a fitting position for our prince,” Perendin teased. “Now, Laegon, about this bountiful gourmet meal of yours...”

“Oh aye?” Laegon carefully spooned a generous portion into a bowl.

“I am afraid I anticipated your hospitality and have already eaten.”

Irewen’s girlish laughter resounded through the cave when Laegon responded with a scowl.

Perendin made a show of reaching beneath his cloak. “But,” he continued, producing a small cloth pouch, “I have brought something that I hope will serve as a sufficient apology and help you and the good lady enjoy this great feast even more!”

Laegon’s frown vanished when Perendin untied the pouch and dumped a handful of dried lilenberries into the steaming porridge. “You are correct, my friend.” He smiled appreciatively. “All is forgiven.”

“As I knew it would be,” Perendin replied, stirring some berries into a bowl before handing it to Irewen. “Sit down and eat, the both of you. What have you been living on? Especially you, Laegon? It looks as though you need to eat this entire pot more than Irewen does.”

“I am fine,” Laegon replied dismissively, not wanting Irewen to know he’d been giving her most of his share in addition to hers. “You know I do not eat much.” Ignoring Perendin’s penetrating stare, he looked forlornly at his bowl of porridge. “Now, tell me,” he continued gravely, “did you manage to bring any honey?”

Perendin raised his eyebrow in surprise. “Are you certain?” he whispered, glancing at Irewen’s sleeping figure. Overcome by exhaustion, she’d lain down for a nap. Laegon had taken advantage of the opportunity to inform Perendin of all that had transpired since the Culthen had left Silverden.

“Aye. As certain as I can be without physical proof. I know my interpretation of Dremond’s words could still prove to be incorrect, but with each passing hour, my heart tells me otherwise.”

“Does she know?”

Laegon nodded. “It has been difficult for her, but she has accepted the responsibility with grace and dedication. There is something truly remarkable about her that I simply cannot explain. She has spoken to me about her inexperience at leading, claiming she knows nothing of how to rule, yet she possesses a bizarre commanding authority the likes of which I have never seen. She has the rare ability to hold your attention without ever saying a word. But when she speaks, I feel as though no one would ever be able to disobey any order she gave. There is a mystical quality of her voice that draws you into her, like an extraordinary butterfly mesmerizing you with its effortless beauty.”

“Well, I never thought I would live to see the day when Prince Laegon Elendell of the Wood Elves became this smitten with a beautiful young lady. And part human at that!”

Laegon cocked his head, stunned that his feelings for Irewen were so obvious.

Perendin’s voice was playfully jovial. “Come now, Laegon. Do not look so surprised. I have no doubt what you said is true. Indeed, I myself felt the very same even after speaking with her for such a short time. But you cannot hide that glimmer of wistfulness in your eyes.”

The prince smiled bashfully. “Aye, though you needn’t look so smug at your discovery. The way I feel, I am certain even a simpleton would be able to recognize the look I possess for what it is. There are some moments when I do not even know where I am or what I am doing. I can sense her looking at me, analyzing my movements, studying my expressions. I feel as though I am crumbling into dust before her feet. We have kissed once, but I have hardly been able to think of anything else since. Even when schooling her on the use and handling of our elven weapons, I found I had to practically scream at myself to keep my concentration. I honestly do not know how I have survived these last few days. I feel like a blubbering idiot.”

“I am happy for you, Laegon.” Perendin smiled. “Feeling that way for another is something everyone deserves to experience at some point in their lives. Sadly, it is something I have not yet had the privilege to enjoy.”

Laegon nodded in agreement. “Yes it is. Honestly, I would not change it for the world.”

Perendin grinned. “I didn’t expect you would.”

“I need to ask you a favor, Perendin.”

“Anything, my prince.”

“Go to the Millérn Watchtower and warn the sentries of the impending attack. I do not know how the enemy passed unnoticed through our borders the first time, but I intend not to let it happen again.”

“Are you sure you would not like me to remain here with you and Irewen, my lord? The reinforcements you requested were busy with their preparations when I left. Your father wanted them dispatched no more than two days after my departure. Those headed to the Millérn tower should arrive within two or three days. If the threat is as great as you suggest, my skills may be of more use to you here.”

Laegon shook his head stubbornly. “No. A darkness has been growing in my mind. I fear waiting even two days will be too late. The sentries must be warned immediately.”

“What of you? Will you and Irewen be safe should some of the Drulaack pass through our defenses?”

Laegon sighed gravely. “As soon as Irewen told me of Dremond’s warning, I knew that only a thread separated her from danger. The longer she can remain here and regain her strength, the better. Yet, every day that passes brings the enemy closer. Every hour Irewen lingers within this cave, every ounce of energy she regains, brings her closer to the time Dremond will no longer be able to protect her. I knew there would come a time when I needed to choose between her health and her safety.”

He paused, looking into Perendin’s large brown eyes. “That time has come. Even though she does not have the strength or stamina to fight the Drulaack, she is no longer helpless in Dremond’s eyes. We must leave. As much as I hate to force such an arduous journey upon her, tonight will be our last night seeking refuge in this cave. I expect Brégen tomorrow afternoon. When he arrives, we will depart for Silverden.”

“What of the prophecy? What are Irewen’s plans for discovering her heritage?”

“She knows nothing of her elven ancestry, not even her mother’s name. There is no way we can trace her roots back through the ages. Our only hope for discovering the identity of the woman is to search for the written account of the prophecy in the Light Elves’ archives. Once we reach Silverden and make the necessary preparations, we will travel north through the southern regions of Lündvelle and head for the city of Lilendvelle. Hopefully, the document was not destroyed and can provide us with some useful information. Failing that, we will need to search the familial archives of all four races.”

“Do not misunderstand me, my prince, but I would much rather be fighting this evil than searching through thousands of ancient documents.”

“So would I, my friend. So would I.”

“Still,” Perendin continued gravely, “I expect we will all be exhausted of battle before these Drulaack are banished from these lands.”

“That is true enough. You may be begging me to spend your time surrounded by musty papers before the end.”

Perendin winked. “Never.”