Silevethiel (17 page)

If not for her discussion with Avelindiel, she wouldn’t have known the unwavering faith the elves had in her, and it proved to be an extremely touching moment. The queen had been right. Though everyone trusted her, she first had to trust in herself. She was absolutely determined to prove their belief in her was not misguided.

She’d taken her first step when asking Laegon to school her in combat. In that one instant, she’d accepted her charge as well as the danger and uncertainty it involved. It had been an important decision, and one without which, she wouldn’t have gained the elves’ trust. Now, it was time to make the next step. It was time to prepare for her journey to Lilendvelle. She knew exactly what her first task would be.

«Silevethiel?»

The Guardian’s reply came instantly.
«Yes?»

«Laegon and I spoke this morning. Per Lord Brandir’s orders, he will not be joining us on our journey through Lündvelle, but he has assured me that a group of elven warriors, as well as another Protector and Guardian, will accompany us to the home of the Light Elves.»

«Oh, aye. Brégen told me as much this morning.»

«Oh! News certainly does travel quickly among you Guardians!»

The Dame chuckled.
«Indeed it does. I sensed your anger and frustration, but did not say anything. I knew you would come to me when you were ready, but it now seems as though you have been able to make peace with the decision. You are an extremely kindhearted and understanding woman, Irewen.

«Laegon’s agreement to his father’s charge was made out of necessity. It did not come lightly. He still feels he should be the one to escort you to Lilendvelle and does not want to leave your side. Nevertheless, he saw Lord Brandir’s reasoning and knew that remaining here would be the most beneficial to you as well as the people of both Mistwood and Lündvelle.

«I can safely say he will not be able to breathe easily again until you have returned and are once again safely by his side. I am glad you were able to come to the realization that Laegon has not abandoned you, nor has he gone back on his word. Even though you will be parted, his entire focus will be on protecting you and making sure you remain unharmed.»

«Thank you, Silevethiel, but I do not deserve such high praise. I was not able to come to such a conclusion on my own. Without the wonderful advice of Lady Avelindiel, I would still be seething.»

«Avelindiel?»
The Guardian’s voice was a mixture of surprise and confusion.

«Yes,»
Irewen confirmed.
«At least, that is the name she gave. Is there something wrong?»

«Do not allow yourself to become concerned, Irewen. There is nothing wrong. It is almost unheard of for an elf to lie. None of them would ever even think of impersonating their beloved Lady. If Avelindiel was the name the elf woman gave to you, then it was Avelindiel you met.»

«Then why your surprise?»

«Because the magic of the elves is fading. There are few left who have the ability to keep Silverden in its current glorious state. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, their power has begun to diminish. What work one could easily do before, now takes the time and effort of two, or even three. Their frustrations have mounted, and their tempers have flared, but none of them will ever abandon their charge. Every day, they continue with their duties. Always brave, always determined, and always hopeful that the magic will return.»

Irewen’s mouth suddenly went dry at the realization that Avelindiel’s warning of a time when the magic of their people ceased to exist was direr than she’d imagined.
«Have all of them been affected?»

«There are eight elves remaining who can summon the magic. Seven of them have felt their power beginning to decline. The only one who has not been affected is Avelindiel. She now spends every waking moment in a trance, doing what she can to make up for the unavoidable shortcomings of her peers. Taxed by the effort, she rarely leaves her study, even to eat or return to her own quarters. I myself have only seen her once in the past eighteen months. So far her valiant efforts have been successful, but no one knows how much longer she will be able to continue with such an arduous task. If one of the other elves loses their ability completely, or if Avelindiel’s magic begins to fade, Silverden will be lost. It is only a matter of time.

«You should be quite honored that she took precious time away from her duties to console you. There was something considerably important that drew her to you, Irewen. And it was not simply a motherly curiosity to meet the woman who has stolen her son’s heart.»

«I...»
Irewen immediately stopped, not knowing what else to say. She lay completely motionless amidst the pillows, utterly stunned that Lady Avelindiel had deemed her to be so significant. What was it she’d sensed? Did the elf queen know something about her heritage that she was keeping to herself?
«Do you...»

«I do not know anything more,»
Silevethiel answered before Irewen could even finish the question.
«And it will do you no good to worry over something that is completely out of your hands. Do what you know you must. Focus on the task you have been given. Everything will become clear in time.»

«But if she knows something about my heritage...»

«No, Irewen,»
Silevethiel interrupted sternly, knowing what the young woman was thinking.
«You must go to Lilendvelle. Although you or I may not fully understand it, there is a higher purpose to this journey. You must accomplish it. Dremond’s shade set your course. Nothing you may learn before our departure will alter the fact that you must go.

«Avelindiel knows this. And if she does have any sort of detailed information, she is wisely keeping it to herself for the very reason you just demonstrated. You will learn everything in the fullness of time. But for now, keep what she said to you close to your heart and push any thoughts of investigating or delaying the journey out of your mind. It is to the city of Lilendvelle you are being sent, and it is to Lilendvelle you will go.»

Not taking her eyes from the ceiling, Irewen scowled. She was not used to being spoken to in such a manner, and her first instinct was to become defensive as she’d done with Laegon. She wanted to continue with the argument, insisting that any information she could obtain now would help her search in Lilendvelle. But in her heart, she knew Silevethiel was right. She was only looking for an excuse to remain in Silverden.

«Very well,»
she finally acquiesced, immediately sensing the lioness’s small, but triumphant glow.

«Now tell me,»
Silevethiel replied, her voice taking on a faint air of approval,
«what is it that I can do for you?»

«What?»
Irewen asked, taken aback by the question.

«You called me, did you not?»

«Oh!»
Irewen exclaimed, surprised that the conversation had indeed taken a turn to somewhere completely other than where she’d intended it to go.
«Up until my discussion with Laegon, I had assumed he would be there to aid in my search of the Light Elves’ archives. I cannot speak or read Elvish. I was depending on him to compensate for my shortcomings.

«Once he told me he would be remaining here in Silverden, I expressed my concerns. He told me that any of the elves accompanying me would be more than willing to translate for me if any of the Light Elves could not speak the common tongue. He also said that most of the documents in the archives should be written in both languages. And although he stressed that you would not be allowed into the archives yourself, you would be able to help me if I ran into any difficulty.»

«Oh aye, that is so. It is an extremely cramped space. Only one person is allowed within the archives at any given time.»

Though she knew the lioness could not see, Irewen nodded her understanding.
«Laegon assured me you would be able to see what I was reading without being in the room. But I do not understand how. Is it done through Míendvel? Do I simply read what is written in Elvish and have you recount it to me so I will understand?»

«That is one way it can be done, but it would be an extremely slow and inaccurate process. Elvish pronunciation, especially in the old dialect of the Light Elves, is extremely different from the common tongue. In some cases, the way a letter or word is pronounced can change its meaning. If you were to say something incorrectly, my translation could take on an entirely different connotation from the passage’s true meaning.

“
What Laegon was referring to is something entirely different from Míendvel. All Guardians have the ability to essentially enter their Protector’s body and either control their movements or use their senses to get a feeling and understanding of what is around them. Once I enter your body, I will be able to look through your eyes and see what you see. As I read, you will understand the document as if you were reading it yourself, in your language. If done enough times, you will begin to become acquainted with the Elvish words. Eventually, you will not need my assistance at all.»

The concept was rather intimidating, but the more Irewen thought of it, the more she became intrigued.
«I am glad I asked,»
she replied, her voice taking on a professional quality. Like the weapons training, it felt good to focus her mind on something she could work on rather than spending countless hours pondering the thousands of unanswered questions floating around her head.
«I decided to begin preparations for our time in Lilendvelle, both mentally and physically. There is still much I do not understand of our relationship and my abilities. I want to acquaint myself with as much as I can before setting out for Lündvelle. Can you show me this technique? I do not want to experience it for the first time when I am in the archives.»

«I am glad you asked,»
the Dame replied approvingly.
«I agree there are many things you need to become proficient in before our departure. I will gladly show you, but not right now. You have had an emotional morning. Your body is drained. It is an extremely demanding exercise for both of us, and I will not risk it at this moment. You must rest. Sleep for a few hours, have a good meal, and then come find me in the Guardians’ residence. I will be waiting for you.»

«Thank you, Silevethiel,»
Irewen answered, sinking further into the pillows.
«I will.»

Her ebony curls fanned about her head, a stark contrast to the pale violet, blue, and green fabrics. She sighed blissfully, pulling a soft oversized blanket over her body. Perhaps it was because she’d been deprived of such luxuries for so long, but it seemed that everything of the elves was far superior to what she’d been accustomed to at home. The bedding was softer, the pillows were fluffier, the food was tastier, and the rooms were warmer. Irewen could almost hear Avelindiel’s voice in her head, and she smiled dreamily to herself.

It is simply the magic of the elves.

IF LAEGON HAD BEEN IN A FOUL MOOD WHEN HE entered the meeting with Lord Brandir and the twelve members of the Elven Council, he was downright fractious when he left. After his discussion with his father the previous evening, he’d expected to shoulder a heavy part of the burden in the coming weeks and months. What the Council demanded, however, was impossible and, in his opinion, completely outrageous. Not only was he expected to design and oversee the making of new armour for Mistwood’s entire fighting force, including Guardians, war horses, and all warrior divisions, but he also needed to recruit enough elves to double the ranks of the foot soldiers.

What baffled him was that the Elven Council even took the idea seriously. There were simply not enough elves qualified to fight with any degree of success. He understood their desire to strengthen Mistwood’s forces, but they were simply asking too much. Realistically, he could supply them with a few dozen more foot soldiers at most, not hundreds. Nevertheless, they insisted, and he had no choice but to agree to the demand. He had no idea where he would find such a large number of recruits. He would have better luck trying to sprout hundreds of miniature elven warriors out of his ears.

Laegon sneered.
Perhaps I should recruit those lazy fools in the Council. That would give us a dozen swordsmen right there.

Taking a sip of hot mint and lilenberry tea, he scowled while quickly pushing the idea from his mind. Even if he managed to convince them to join the ranks, they wouldn’t last five minutes in battle.

He shook his head dismissively and turned his attention back to the meeting. The Council’s first two ideas had been inane; the rest were utterly absurd.

Once he’d somehow miraculously completed those initial feats, he’d been ordered to oversee the recruits’ training as well as continuing to sharpen the skills of those already in service. On top of that, the Council, in their infinite wisdom, declared that if the Drulaack posed as great a threat as he seemed to think, all warriors, Protectors, and Guardians needed to remain in Mistwood. They would not hear of even a handful escorting Irewen to Lilendvelle. Not even Silevethiel.

He and his father argued with them for hours, suggesting that once Irewen was safely in the city, the warriors could return to Silverden. But none of the council members were even willing to come to a compromise. All twelve of them emphatically declared that Mistwood’s defense was of the utmost importance. No one could be spared for any reason. The decision was unanimous. Lord Brandir had no choice but to agree.

In one cycle of the moon, Irewen would set out for Lilendvelle on her own.

Laegon cursed. Of course, none of the Councilors were willing to give her the news. Stating that he knew her the best, they readily assigned the task to him. He had no idea how the hell he was even going to broach the subject with her. He’d had a difficult enough time that morning telling her he needed to remain behind. How could he possibly tell her the Council expected her to make the journey through Lündvelle completely alone, without even Silevethiel by her side?

His fury continued to escalate during the rest of the meeting while the Council assigned him various other tasks, which he did not care to think of at the moment, and he figured he did a decent job of keeping himself in check. But once Brandir insisted Irewen needed it, the one job the Council hadn’t wanted to give to Laegon, because they felt his emotions would hinder his ability, was Irewen’s training.

That was when he completely lost his temper.

Jumping up from his seat, he screamed and spouted more obscenities than he even realized he knew, watching with satisfaction as all twelve of the Councilors’ faces turned completely white. They’d never seen him in such an infuriated state. No one had. Not even him.

It was disrespectful and completely out of line for any elf, especially one who was both a Protector and a prince, but he simply didn’t care. He’d had enough of their doubting and idiotic ideas. He was the most skilled Protector in all of Mistwood as well as the most accurate bowman. There was no one better qualified to train Irewen. As far as he was concerned, the only way she would be instructed by anyone other than himself was if one of them stood up then and there and killed him on the spot.

He’d looked at each of the Councilors, challenging them with his penetrating gaze, waiting for them to object, but no one moved. They were all riveted to their chairs, staring at him in utter shock and fear. But the real reason they didn’t object was because they knew he spoke the truth. Not only was he the most skilled in battle, he was also the only one in Silverden who had ever fought the Drulaack. Halthed needed to remain at the watchtower, and Perendin was injured. There simply
was
no one else to train her. He wasn’t being arrogant. He was simply stating a fact. And even the members of the Elven Council, who apparently lacked an iota of common sense, were able to come to that realization.

Once he’d been satisfied they were not going to argue with his decision, he informed them that if anything happened to Irewen while she was on her own, he would kill all twelve of them himself. He then swiftly told them where he thought they could shove their idiotic and useless Council, included a number of choice and extremely creative phrases provided by Brégen, and stormed out of the hall, completely blocking his mind from everyone except his loyal Guardian.

He’d returned to his quarters, telling himself he needed a cup of tea to calm down. But in reality, he was simply using it as an excuse to delay the dreaded discussion with Irewen.

«Those bastards should know better,»
he fumed.

Somehow, Brégen managed to sound even more enraged than him.
«Aye, they should. But it is obvious they were raised by some unknown species with lesser intelligence than of a box of hair.»

Despite his ghastly mood, the Guardian’s words brought a smile to Laegon’s face.
«Where do you come up with these comparisons?»

«It’s a gift.»

The prince grunted.
«Useful.»

«You found it amusing. Did you not?»

«Aye. I certainly did.»

«Then do not argue with its usefulness. Some day you will find everyone begging to have such fine and admirable qualities as I display.»

«I very much doubt it.»

«What I want to know is how all twelve of them could be so utterly senseless,»
Brégen continued, swiftly returning to the task at hand.
«In all my years, the entire Elven Council has never unanimously agreed on anything.»

«Exactly,»
Laegon agreed.
«Why now? There must be a reason.»

«It was almost as if they want to fail.»

Laegon paused, recounting all of the words that’d been exchanged during the meeting, and realized that Brégen made quite a chilling point. Yet, something about his statement didn’t seem quite right. Then he remembered a rather scathing remark Erondelthen, the eldest member of the Council, had made during one of the arguments.
«They do not want our people to fail. They want us to fail. Me in particular.»

«What drove you to that conclusion, my dear Protector?»

«Erondelthen.»

«Care to elaborate?»

«For reasons I cannot explain, he was extremely disrespectful towards me weeks before we left on our patrol. I did not think anything of it at the time, believing it to simply be the ramblings of a grumpy old elf who had lived for far too many years. But during the meeting, he said something I do not think he intended anyone to hear. While my father and I were arguing with a few other members of the Council about sending an escort with Irewen, Erondelthen muttered, ‘only a fool cannot control his Guardian.

«It was irrelevant to the discussion. I dismissed it immediately, focusing on the meeting. But now, I believe whatever he is referring to is the cause of our problem. He is the eldest and longest running member on the Elven Council. He is also the most influential and selfish. If he feels strongly enough to oppose someone or something, especially if it will benefit him in any way, he would influence the other members of the Council in a heartbeat. He has never particularly liked anyone. And come to think of it, he has especially never liked you. I have always been surprised that he has never been voted off the Council, and more importantly, that he was even chosen to be on it in the first place, though I have my suspicions regarding such a miraculous feat.»

«Ah...»
Laegon’s silence to the lion’s reply was deafening.
«I may have an explanation.»

Sighing, the prince rolled his eyes.
«Tell me.»

«A rather unfortunate incident occurred about three weeks before our scheduled patrol.»

«What did you do?»
Laegon asked with vexation, wondering if this was what it would feel like to have a hopelessly unruly child who you knew couldn’t set foot out of the house without falling into some sort of trouble.

«I take it you are aware of Erondelthen’s rather new, but extremely incessant hobby of playing the five-course lute, though he is a musical ignoramus.»

«Of course,»
Laegon answered curtly, his patience growing thin.
«Get to the point.»

«One afternoon, accidentally on purpose, I may have put my front paw through his beloved instrument. Twice.»

«You did what?»
Laegon didn’t know whether to laugh at the image of Erondelthen’s face when he saw the splintered wood and broken strings, relieved that for at least a time no one had to listen to his horrible music, or furious at Brégen for destroying the Head Councilor’s property.

«I can assure you it was done with the best intentions. I was merely concerned for the welfare of the community. If left unchallenged, all of Silverden would have slowly grown insane from prolonged exposure to such a barbaric form of torture. I would not even subject my worst enemy to such horrific sounds. Erondelthen could kill a man at thirty paces with that so called music.»

Unable to help himself, Laegon laughed hysterically.
«Perhaps we should present him with another lute and position him in the front lines. Even possessed by an evil spirit, the Drulaack would run away screaming.»

«I would not even subject King Elthad himself to such horrific pain.»

«Good point. No one deserves that form of punishment.»
Laegon paused, attempting to regain his focus.
«So,»
he finally continued,
«we know the cause for his animosity towards both of us, namely you. And we know his reasoning for wanting to get his revenge for your despicable actions, though they were well justified. But what I do not understand is why he would choose to do it in this peculiar a manner and at such a crucial junction in our society’s history. His childish act of retaliation could lead to the downfall of all four elven races.»

«Aye, it is quite puzzling. He has nothing to gain. If we fail, so does he.»

«Indeed,»
Laegon replied.
«Unless...»
The only reason he could think of why Erondelthen would even consider acting at such a critical time was if the failure of the elves affected him in a positive way. And even the thought of what that meant turned Laegon’s heart cold from fear.

«Exactly.»
Brégen paused.
«So, oh mighty Protector, what do you propose we do?»

«WE are going to do nothing. YOU are going to see if our suspicions prove true. And if they do, you are going to find a way to expose him and prevent him from doing any more damage.»

«Is that so?»
the lion asked.
«And do I have a choice in the matter?»

«Indeed you do. You can either do it willingly or unwillingly.»

«I see. And what will you be doing in the meantime other than dreaming of Irewen’s kisses?»

«While you are lounging about trying to find others to do your job,»
Laegon retorted,
«I will be doing everything in my power to make the Council’s desires come to life. Because if I don’t, no matter Erondelthen’s motives, Mistwood will fall.»

«So, I see you will not be doing anything critically important.»

Laegon smiled.
«Not in the least, my friend. Not in the least.»

«Well then,»
the Guardian replied with as much enthusiasm as he could muster,
«we’d better get to it.»

«Yes, I suppose we had better,»
Laegon acknowledged.
«I cannot delay speaking with Irewen any longer.»

«Good luck, my brave Protector.»

«And the same to you, my friend.»

Laegon stood, stretched his arms, and slowly made his way to the door. His heart sank deeper into an endless pit of misery with every step he took. This was going to be the most painful and difficult conversation of his life. He prayed with every fiber of his being that when it was over, Irewen would have the heart and decency not to cast him aside forever.

Laegon hadn’t even made it to the door when Irewen burst into his room, tears streaming down her fair cheeks. Without saying a word, she rushed into his arms, burying her face in the soft folds of his gray and white tunic.

“What is it, Irewen? What’s wrong?”

Shaking her head against his chest, she said nothing.

Not knowing what else to do, he held her quietly, feeling her trembling body pressed tightly against his. Whatever the cause for her distress, he wanted to help, but he was at a complete loss for words. She was in no condition to speak. Without knowing the problem, he wasn’t about to console her by telling her everything would be all right, for he knew that could be far from the truth.

«Brégen...»

The Guardian’s reply was instantaneous.
«Raina is explaining. Sit tight for a moment.»