Silevethiel (18 page)

Raina? Laegon had no idea why it was his father’s Guardian speaking to Brégen instead of Silevethiel, but this wasn’t the time to inquire. Instead, he held Irewen’s head against his chest. Kissing her soft curls, he waited for Brégen’s reply.

«Well, my friend,»
Brégen said a few moments later.
«It seems as though you no longer need to dread informing Irewen of the Council’s decision to send her into the wilderness on her own. She knows.»

«What! How?»

«It appears that while you and I were focusing on telling the Council why their decision was completely asinine, Raina, who was watching the meeting through Brandir’s eyes, relayed every single detail to Silevethiel. She knew the Dame needed to know of the ruling in order to help console Irewen once you spoke to her. Sensing something was amiss with the members of the Council, she also felt Silevethiel should witness the meeting firsthand. Raina never intended for the Dame to pass everything on to Irewen, but that is unfortunately what happened.»

«Bloody hell.»

«Do not swear yet. That was the good news.»

«Vreln.»

«You are going to have to swear harder than that to stop me from telling you.»

«Get on with it,»
Laegon snapped, aware that Irewen’s sobbing was beginning to ease.

«Once the meeting was adjourned,»
Brégen continued,
the Dame immediately closed off her mind, as we did.»

«And?»

«She has blocked Irewen from her thoughts as well. The princess can feel a faint pulsing of Silevethiel’s presence, and knows she is safe, but that is all. »

«Bloody woman!»

Irewen stirred, pushing herself away from him. Saying nothing, she looked up at him, locking her eyes to his.

Her expression gave him pause. It wasn’t quite what he expected. There wasn’t a hint of sadness or defeat. Her crisp blue eyes stared at him with a peculiar mixture of concern, determination, and anger. But there was more. Something he’d got a hint of during their sparring in the cave. Ruthlessness.

Irewen wanted revenge.

“Everything will be all right, Irewen,” he reassured her. “I promise.” He considered saying more, but decided against it. At the moment, more words would only get in the way.

«I wouldn’t make any promises yet,»
Brégen warned.
«What you have heard so far was merely the bad news. Now for the horrible news. Concerned, as any Protector would be, Irewen ran to the Guardians’ residence where she knew Silevethiel had last been, but the Dame was not there. Raina and a handful of Guardians are searching for her, but to no avail. She has been attempting to contact me since the end of the meeting, but was obviously unable to penetrate my shields. No one has seen or heard from Silevethiel for over four hours.»

«Please tell me you are joking.»

Brégen’s silence was all Laegon needed to know that the Guardian’s words were true.

«Brilliant! Absolutely bloody brilliant! What the hell is that woman thinking? She is the damn leader of the Guardians, revered by every Wood Elf in Mistwood, and she is doing something even more idiotic than murdering an old elf’s lute.»

Brégen snorted.
«I will not dignify that last remark with a response, but you are right. Silevethiel is the most revered Guardian in Mistwood. She is our Dame, the most powerful and wisest among us, and has just been told she is not allowed to do what is the sole reason for our existence: Guard her Protector. Without that, we have no reason for living.»

Laegon felt as if he was drowning in the deafening silence that followed Brégen’s last haunting words.
«She wouldn’t...»

«No. She will not end her life. Though the Council has apparently deemed otherwise, she is still Irewen’s Guardian. They are bound. No Guardian would ever even think of intentionally breaking that bond.»
Brégen paused, organizing his thoughts.
«You must remember, Laegon, that Silevethiel was an observer of the meeting, not a participant. She has this uncanny ability to soak up everything around her like a sponge that has not seen a drop of water for a year. She can pick up on people’s intentions without them even realizing it. Absolutely nothing escapes her. I guarantee that she was able to come to the same conclusion as we did. Though she may not know the reason for Erondelthen’s hostility towards us, she is aware it exists and knows the Council’s decision was solely his doing.»

«So, what are you saying?»

«Councilor Erondelthen is also missing. Find one, and you find the other.»

Brégen didn’t need to say another word. Taking hold of Irewen’s hand, Laegon led her into his quarters. “I will find her, Irewen,” he said, firmly grasping both of her arms reassuringly. “The head of the Elven Council is also missing. The two disappearances are linked. Locating Erondelthen will lead me to Silevethiel.”

“I don’t care what needs to be done,” Irewen responded, her voice hard and cold. “Find her.”

Pretty certain her anger wasn’t directed at him, and too preoccupied to make a definitive assessment, Laegon called upon his Sight. He began searching through the expansive royal home for any sign, impossible as it would be, of the elder Councilor. As expected, Erondelthen was no longer in the home or in the immediate area.

Laegon slowly expanded his search. Clinging onto his memory of the elf’s essence, he made his way through Silverden, meticulously probing every inch of the city for even a faint trace of the missing Councilor. He didn’t close his Sight once leaving an area, instead leaving his mind open so he would be alerted if by some miracle Erondelthen returned to a section he’d already searched.

After what seemed like ages, the search of Silverden was complete. Realizing the elf had left the city, Laegon’s heart sank. Pushing aside his weakness, he once again extended his range, working his way through Mistwood’s expansive forests. He couldn’t speculate what had prompted Erondelthen to leave the city and therefore didn’t have even the slightest inkling of which direction the Councilor had gone. He had no choice but to expand the perimeter of his Sight in the shape of a ring, using his own body as the central point of the ever increasing circle.

When he’d searched a few miles outside Silverden, and there was still no sign of the elf, Laegon told Brégen to have someone check the stables. Minutes later, the lion’s reply confirmed his worse fears. Erondelthen’s horse was missing.

Four hours
, Laegon told himself, wearily calculating how far the Councilor would have been able to travel at a full gallop. Still, with no idea of Erondelthen’s general direction or speed, Laegon was forced to continue his broad search.

He prayed he would have the strength to locate the missing elf. Already, his mind was beginning to spin. The strength was dissipating from his body. His arms felt like they were being pulled down by weights. He hardly even noticed his hands sliding down Irewen’s back before hanging heavily at his sides.

He swayed from side to side. Trying in vain to steady himself, he completely ignored Irewen’s panicked cry. He wanted nothing more than to dismiss his Sight, curl up on his bed, and sleep for weeks, but he forced himself to continue the search. Amongst all of the Wood Elves, his gift was the strongest. He was their only hope of finding both Erondelthen and the missing Dame.

Suddenly, when he didn’t think he could hold on for a second longer, he caught a faint trace of the Councilor nearing Mistwood’s western border. As quickly as he could, he sent the old elf’s position to Brégen, called off his Sight, and fell to his knees. Welcoming the blackness, he collapsed into Irewen’s outstretched arms.

A DAMP COLDNESS PULLED LAEGON FROM THE darkness. Groaning, he opened his eyes and squinted against the harsh afternoon sunlight flooding the room. Excruciating pain surged through his body. The room spun wildly at the slightest turn of his head.

Taking a deep breath, he waited for his vision to return to normal while realizing he had no idea what day it was or what he’d done to put himself in such a precarious state. Frantically trying to piece the tiny fragments of his memory together, he panicked.

He attempted to lift his head, then grimaced from the pain. Once again he felt his consciousness slipping away.

Suddenly, a whisper reached his ears, urging him to relax. Forcing himself to listen, he waited patiently. His vision slowly cleared. He recognized Irewen sitting vigilantly beside him, holding a wet cloth to his forehead. The sight of her pushed all other thoughts and worries from his mind. He summoned what little strength he had and reached for her leg with his fingertips, smiling when her expression changed from concern to pure relief.

Laegon opened his mouth, but she quickly placed her fingers on his lips. “Do not speak,” she warned in a soft whisper. “At least for a few moments. It will only cause you more pain.”

After he cautiously nodded his understanding, she removed her fingers and reached for an ornate silver goblet filled to the brim with a dark green liquid. She eased her hand behind his neck, gently lifted his head, and urged him to drink.

The thick liquid, almost the consistency of rich syrup, clung relentlessly to his tongue after he swallowed. The taste, sharply bitter but with a surprising hint of sweetness, was immediately familiar to him, but he couldn’t recall why.

“Lord Brandir has assured me your condition is simply a result of an excessive use of your Sight,” Irewen informed him. “I have been charged with force-feeding you this tantalizing concoction. You are ordered to get as much rest as you can and refrain from using both Míendvel and your Sight. Your father also told me a cold compress will help alleviate some of the pain in your head. I have made sure to keep a fresh rag on your forehead at all times.”

She lifted the goblet once more. Obediently, he took another sip, though it was much smaller than the first. He now remembered what was in the drink. Even the thought of the appalling mixture made his stomach turn. Redirecting his attention to something much more pleasant, he forced himself to swallow. The pain in his body lessened just a fraction, and he sighed with blissful relief. He never imagined it would be possible for anyone to be in this much agony yet still experience such a comforting joy.

He motioned for the goblet once more. Irewen obliged, holding it to his lips. He didn’t care how repulsive its texture was or how sickening its contents were. If it was able to relieve his pain that quickly, he would chug it directly from the pitcher.

“What do you remember?” Irewen asked when he’d swallowed all he could stomach.

He wanted to tell Irewen what he’d seen, but he thought better of it and simply shook his head. Though he was feeling better, even speaking one word could bring the excruciating pain surging back into his head in a fraction of an instant.

Irewen patted his hand, nodding sympathetically. She was quite familiar with what it felt like to wake up in pain, recovering from a traumatic experience, and not remember a single thing. Slowly, being sure not to leave out even the tiniest detail, she recounted the events of Silevethiel’s peculiar disappearance and the hunt for both her and Councilor Erondelthen.

He listened intently, scowling as the memories came surging back into his tired mind. Once he’d informed Brégen of Erondelthen’s position, Lord Brandir had formed a tracking party consisting of twenty of Silverden’s finest warriors, Protectors, and Guardians. Guiding them himself, they’d immediately set out to hunt for the elf. Silevethiel’s tracks were spotted without difficulty, following the same course as the Councilor’s, and the party’s hopes were high that they would find both with relative ease.

Only half of their wish was granted.

Erondelthen’s body, stabbed cleanly through the heart, was found a few miles past Mistwood’s western border in the mining country of Grelden.

Silevethiel was still missing.

Forgetting his pain, Laegon reached up and brushed away the tear that trickled down Irewen’s cheek. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the loneliness and maddening anxiety haunting her. “Were they not able to follow her tracks?” he whispered, thankful that it hadn’t caused him more discomfort.

She shook her head and tucked a dark curl behind her delicately pointed ear. “Apparently, a rather intense scuffle took place where Erondelthen was killed. It is unclear whether he went there to meet people intentionally or simply happened upon a hostile band of hunters. The ground around him was trampled so thoroughly that it was impossible for anyone in the party to clearly make out what had happened.

“Silevethiel’s tracks followed Erondelthen to that particular spot and then vanished. For days, Lord Brandir and the others thoroughly searched the area around where Erondelthen’s body was found, hoping to pick up a faint trace of her paw print, but nothing was found. There is absolutely no sign of what happened to her or even a hint as to the direction she might have gone.”

Irewen closed her eyes, pausing for a moment to get her emotions under control.

“I have tried incessantly to speak to her with Míendvel, but I have received no answers. I can still feel our connection, though it is faint. She is alive. But that is all I know.”

“Has the status of her presence changed at all?” he asked. “Have you sensed any sort of fluctuation in the pulse or noticed even the slightest hint of danger?”

“No. Nothing. There has not been even the most insignificant variation.”

“Are you certain?”

“As certain as I can be,” she replied.

“What do you mean?”

“The moment she did not respond to any of my pleas, and was not waiting for me in the Guardians’ residence where she said she would be, I panicked. I was not thinking clearly and could hardly function. I was aware of her presence, but I was in too much of an unbalanced state to concentrate on the stability of the connection. It may have fluctuated during that time. I cannot say. A few hours after Lord Brandir and the others left, once you had been attended to by the healers and were resting comfortably, I regained enough of my composure and sense of mind to concentrate on Silevethiel. What I can say, with absolute certainty, is that since that time, there has been not even the most minuscule change in her presence.”

“That is rather...unusual.”

“How so?” she asked with concern.

“Guardians, as well as Protectors, are able to completely block anyone from their mind, except for the Protector or Guardian with which they have bonded,” he explained. “I will always sense Brégen, and he will always sense me. But even though the link remains continuous, it does not remain constant. Events Brégen experiences during the day will cause my perception of him to fluctuate. Even though he may not be actively revealing his emotions to me, I am still able to determine any deviations that occur. This, of course, applies to the link you have with Silevethiel. Even if she is not transmitting her emotions to you, you should be able to feel some sort of change in her presence, no matter how slight.”

He paused, his mind racing with hundreds of possibilities and suppositions as to what would cause Irewen’s link with the Dame to remain constant.

“Yet,” he continued. “However strange it may be, your bond to her still remains. You were correct in your earlier statement. She is missing. But she is alive. And the first step we must take to finding her is to discover why her presence is not changing.”

Irewen nodded, relieved to hear that as long as that link remained, she would at least know Silevethiel was safe.

“Given that there seems to have been some sort of altercation where Erondelthen’s body was found,” he said, “combined with the fact that you were so distraught, I think it is best to assume there were fluctuations in her presence between the time she went missing and the moment you were able to concentrate fully on the link. Do you agree?”

“Yes,” Irewen replied firmly. “That is the only time in which I can be certain it was absolutely constant.”

Silence fell between them. He reached for the goblet, his brow furrowed in concentration. Absentmindedly, he sipped the green liquid, his taste buds finally becoming immune to the unusual flavor. “The fluctuations occur when one experiences different emotions,” he said slowly. “Without that, there would be no change. So what we need to do is think of what she could possibly have done to herself in order to keep her emotions constant.”

“What about when you are sleeping?” Irewen asked. “Dreaming.”

He shook his head. “No. Even when dreaming, our subconscious is still affected by the events we see. We can still experience joy, sadness, fear, elation. You would be able to sense her reaction to a dream. But you have given me an idea.”

“Oh?”

“I cannot recall experiencing a single dream between the time I fainted and the time I woke,” he explained. “I had no thoughts. No feelings. There was only blackness. What if Silevethiel is unconscious?”

Irewen’s face went white. As much as she didn’t want to acknowledge that his words could be true, they made perfect sense. Erondelthen had been killed. Silevethiel’s tracks led directly to the area where the scuffle occurred. Assuming there had been fluctuations in her presence before she reached that particular spot, and something happened to force her to lose consciousness, the Dame’s link would have become completely unchanged by the time Irewen regained her awareness and had sense enough to concentrate on its consistency.

But what had happened?

That simple question would continue to drive Irewen towards madness. Common sense would suggest the Dame had been hurt during the fight. But nothing was discovered to indicate Silevethiel had participated in the altercation. There was no trace of the lioness, not even a small tuft of white fur. Lord Brandir and the others scrutinized the area so meticulously that Irewen knew returning to the scene would be useless. There was simply nothing left to be found.

“Calm down, Irewen,” Laegon said, taking hold of her hand. He could see the curtain of anxiety beginning to set in her eyes. “We do not even know if what I suggested is possible. Let me first talk to Brégen before we make any snap judgments. He will be able to relay what he experienced while I was unconscious. Depending on his answer, we can then decide our next course of action.

“In the meantime, concentrate on Silevethiel’s presence and continue to speak to her. Most importantly, do everything in your power to remain composed and relaxed. Do not lose sight of the hunger for revenge I saw in your eyes when you came to me the other day. Letting your anxiety get the best of you will only make the situation worse.”

Irewen nodded, her eyes flashing with hard determination.
Silevethiel is still alive,
she reminded herself, not knowing how much longer that small glint of information would keep her sane.
That is all that matters. There is still time. She is alive.