The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (17 page)

Alaise was fond of Jhaeronas and had remained friendly with him and his parents, always admiring his numerous achievements within the Circle of Mages, the spellcasting elite of Acillia. He was also a friend and confidante to Elec, helping the elf in his arcane endeavors on many occasions. Jhaeronas and Aeona had intended to marry a few years prior, but Keryth did not approve of their relationship. Many within the Circle of Mages believed there to be an unhealthy rivalry between Keryth and the younger elf. Elec knew that, at the very least, Jhaeronas harbored resentment toward his father, and may even have held Aeona responsible for not protesting more vigorously, though he had never said it. Jhaeronas had always been the jealous type and held a vengeful fire deep within his amber eyes. Elec was to be positioned near Jhaeronas at the ceremony and would certainly keep one eye on him.

At the feast that evening, Elec watched Jhaeronas stare at Aeona and he knew that, despite his outward appearance and statements to the contrary, his friend was still in love with his sister. Elec chewed his food and contemplated that for the rest of the evening, feeling a deep sympathy for him. A broken heart was something that could never
fully
mend, he was told.

The three days passed quickly and the day of the wedding was upon them. The scene was a glorious event with hundreds of the Acillian high elves from many of the surrounding villages in attendance, and all dressed in the most noble of garments. The sight brought to mind exactly how influential a figure his father was, Elec thought, taking in all of the pageantry and splendor. He was truly happy for his sister and his brother-in-law to be, yet felt sorry for Jhaeronas at the same time. Elec could not shake the feeling that his friend was hiding something from him though he had not been able to pry free this deeply buried information, despite many attempts over the last few days. He was fearful of the melancholy within Jhaeronas and wondered about bringing it to the attention of his brother, but Elandion was directly involved in the ceremony and was nowhere to be seen at the moment. Elec climbed the spiral stairwell to take his place in the rear section of the hall. Jhaeronas was stationed to his right.

As the wedding began, beautiful elven music sounded harmoniously from both stringed and wind instruments, swelling throughout the acoustics of the great hall. The ceremonial participants preceded the bride and groom into the hall in a stately procession.

Elec watched as the wedding party reached the beautifully carved platform at the front and took their places. The dais was adorned with brightly hued fabrics in reds, blues, greens and yellows, crafted by the finest artisans of Wothlondia. Ivory, tan and even gold and silver candles were on display and mirrored by the three ornamental candelabra that surrounded the platform upon which they now stood. It was truly a magnificent and breathtaking sight.

Elec watched Jhaeronas staring at one of the candelabra directly above the elven couple. He must have sensed Elec’s gaze because he turned to regard him with a wild-eyed stare before reverting his eyes to the flickering candles. He began to wave his hands wildly above the crowd. Not a soul amongst the audience caught the display as the entire throng was transfixed by the ceremony. Not even Anthalion’s kin, stationed at the opposite side of the balcony, took note of Jhaeronas’ gyrations and gestures.

Elec was completely unsure what his friend was doing, but instinctively decided that it was not well intended. He quickly began to counter the spell with a simple magic meant to ‘shackle’ the target’s arms. In this case it would interrupt Jhaeronas’ spell casting at the very least, leaving Elec to confront him about his intent later. He waggled his fingers and mouthed the incantation, willing the effects of the spell into the central plane as he’d been taught many times. But, as on many of those prior occasions, Elec realized with horror that he had failed once more to bring the powers of Arcana into being—had failed once more to cast the required spell as it fizzled into nothingness. Before he could chastise himself about it, Jhaeronas was at the end of his incantation. Elec’s heart hammered in his chest as time seemed to slow to a crawl.

He watched helplessly as a minute bolt of arcane energy traversed the hall, hitting the heavy chain that fastened the candelabra above his sister and Anthalion. Elec screamed at Jhaeronas, infuriated that his friend could do something so dishonorable—and to his
sister
of all people. As the call echoed through the expansive hall, all eyes were diverted from the couple and turned to the source of the outburst, landing upon Elec. All eyes but Anthalion’s, that is.

Anthalion reflexively shoved his bride out of the way as the heavy wooden fixture came to a stop upon his slender frame. As its weight landed squarely on his back, he winced and yelped in pain. Aeona fell awkwardly from the dais upon which they stood, twisting her ankle and hitting the stone floor.

The assembled spectators missed the commotion at the front of the hall as they had all turned to face the balcony at the rear. The guests whirled once more when they heard the sound of the candelabra bursting into countless pieces on the body of the hapless would-be groom.

Suddenly, Keryth uttered a spell called Hand of Fate. An arcane form shivered into view, taking shape as the hand of the elven gods, summoned from the plane of Arcana. The massive thing enveloped Jhaeronas within its mighty grasp. It yanked him from his perch atop the balcony, lifting him into the air and holding him helplessly before it as the crowd parted. Several other mages began to prepare spells to aid Keryth if necessary, not knowing exactly what was happening.

Keryth’s face was a mask of rage as he commanded the magical conjuration expertly, suspending the helpless Jhaeronas aloft.

“How…
dare you
!” Keryth thundered. Jhaeronas remained silent and more of the throng backed away from the furious Keryth. Several rushed to help the fallen lovers at the front of the hall, including Alaise.

Elec watched dumbfounded. He was rooted in place, though not from any magical effect—he was frozen in shock at the recent events. He watched as some officials ran to assist Keryth, coaxing him into releasing Jhaeronas from his spell and then grabbing the limp elf as he was freed. The punishment for such a crime against his people was exile, Elec knew. Jhaeronas would no longer be welcome within any of the areas on Acillia and, if he were to return, it would be under penalty of death. The elves escorted Jhaeronas away unceremoniously. He managed to glance up toward Elec, who noted a distant look in his former friend’s tear-soaked eyes. But just for an instant though, he came to himself, and pitifully mouthed the words, “I’m sorry”.

After Jhaeronas was taken away, Aeona was helped to her feet and divine healing was given to Anthalion by one of the elder priestesses of The Dreamer. She knelt at the groom’s side wearing the familiar stars and half-moons raiment of her goddess. She channeled radiant healing energy into Anthalion’s body, closing the worst of the wound and attempting to mend the broken bones he’d surely sustained near his ribcage, where the brunt of the candelabra’s blow was first absorbed.

Elec descended the spiral staircase from the balcony and joined his mother and sister, lending them support. Keryth scanned the chaotic scene and then pulled Elec away from the rest of the family to stand near the center of the hall. Faorath slowly followed them and purposely eavesdropped on the conversation.

“What happened?” Keryth asked, hands on hips, staring into Elec’s exotic eyes in an attempt to discern the truth.

“I—I saw him moving to…,” he stammered, looking down at the floor then back up to his father. “He began casting a spell and I tried, but I… I wasn’t able to stop him,” Elec admitted in defeat, once more feeling overtly inadequate and strangely guilty under the scrutinizing stare of his father.

“So, you
could
have stopped him if you were even half the mage that your namesake suggests?” Keryth said mockingly, jabbing at his already sensitive frame of mind.

“Keryth, you have no—“           

“
This
… is of no concern to you, Faorath!” Keryth barked in response to the interruption by his brother-in-law. “If Elec were your own flesh and blood, then you could handle it your own way.”

“He
is
my flesh and blood,” Faorath countered in a quieter tone as several of the crowd turned their attention on the quarrel. Keryth’s stare fell this time on Faorath, as if daring him to speak again. A moment passed as the two of them locked eyes but spoke no words. Faorath held his ground, though, and did not move away.

Keryth returned his attention to his son once more. Elec kept his head down and his shamed gaze upon the floor while his father crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in disgust. But, before he could further humiliate him, Alaise, wide-eyed, grabbed Keryth by the arm.

“Please! Not
here
and not
now!
We have more
important
business to attend to,” she whispered to her husband, indicating the fallen Anthalion.

“This is not over,” Keryth said, directing his comment to Elec and then turning to Faorath and adding, “you, too.” Faorath stared him down once more and then looked sympathetically to his nephew.

“It is not your fault, lad.” Faorath laid a reassuring hand upon his nephew’s shoulder. He spoke the words with conviction to Elec, as if they were fact and not opinion.

While they were speaking, much of the crowd dispersed. However, some elves remained to help where they could in cleaning up the now postponed ceremony. Elec could see the priestess of The Dreamer still chanting prayers and administering magical aid to Anthalion.

Faorath and Elec both neared the dais, Elec moving closer to his mother and sister. It appeared that Anthalion was almost fully healed. He complained of a pain that still lingered in his ribcage, but the wound was closed and there was no sign of injury beneath the tunic, now blood-soaked, that he’d worn for the ceremony.

His father spoke no further to Elec, but despite what had happened to them, Aeona and Anthalion both offered him words of support. None of it made him feel better, however, and he joined in the clearing the hall before retiring somberly to his room for the evening.

The next day, Elec set to task, working the springs and latches of a mechanism occasionally, while working his alchemical solutions, barely eating or speaking to anyone else. His mother finally entered his room late that evening.

“You are not eating,” she declared, holding out a plate of food. Upon closer inspection, Elec recognized it as his favorite—scrambled giant eagle eggs with a side of boar meat. He could not help but smile at his mother in appreciation at her attempt at quelling his dour mood.

He began to nibble at the food while Alaise sat close by silently, simply watching him as he ate.

“I should have stopped him,” Elec finally managed, after consuming his entire plate.

“No one blames you for it,” Alaise responded. She moved across to be near Elec at his workspace, which was inundated with countless texts and scrolls. “If anyone should be blamed, it should be me.” Elec scrunched his face, wearing a perplexed expression at hearing this strange admission from his mother. “I invited him,” she said as evidence, violet eyes wide and hands outstretched. “Along the lines of your thinking, I should be the one held responsible,” she added after a pause. “Right?”

“Of course n—“

“Well, then I think I have made my point,” she interrupted. “You are no more to blame for what happened than I or anyone else who was at the ceremony.”