DragonseekerChapters 1-3This is an original work, please do not steal. Chapter One Kieren watched her funeral from a distant hill, face hidden under a heavy black cowl. Far below, the train of mourners passed the wooden bier. A body, her body, lay on top of the tinder, covered by an opaque shroud. She felt sick. Following the procession, her husband entered the courtyard, wearing the golden mantle of the King of Men. He stood, still and silent like a statue. But the she-elf could see the grief and pain etched into his every movement, even from this far away. Their son stopped beside him, head bowed, his long blond hair covering his face. He reached out, rubbing his little sister’s back as she sobbed into her father’s chest. Kieren’s heart lurched, aching that she couldn’t reach out to them. She tore eyes away and addressed the old man at her side. “This is not right, Talfryn. I do not care what the Morraugh gods have told you. This is cruel.” His stained brown robes flapped in the early spring breeze. “This is the only way, my queen. If you wish to protect your husband and children, you must leave Cuhulaiin.” “But to make them think I have died? Staging my own funeral? How, in the Morraugh’s name, will that help anyone? They are suffering because of me.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “I wish you had kept the knowledge of the vision to yourself, Talfryn. No good can come of this.” “The Prince and Princess will be safe.” “But at what cost?” It would haunt her forever—looking at her own corpse, covered in bleeding wounds and gashes. Nor would she ever escape the guilt, watching from afar as the guards executed her son’s pet grigor beast, unfairly blaming the gentle creature for Kieren’s death. She forced the bile back down her throat. The bard—a seanchaidh of the High Order—pulled her from memories past. He mounted his black roan and settled in the high saddle, smoothing his stained travel cloak. “Come, my queen. We have a long journey ahead.” “Aye.” Kieren wrapped her cloak tighter around her body. Her husband, her daughter, her son… What would she ever do without them? “We ride for Vainamon, my queen. The Lady of the Blessed Weald may know of a way to stop what I have Seen.” A strand of golden hair escaped her hood and danced upon the wind. “Do you truly have no idea of what lies on the horizon?” Talfryn scowled at her, as if she should have already known the answer to her question. “The day grows late. We must go. Now, before the funeral ends and we are discovered.” With dread in her heart, the Queen of Elves mounted Bedwyr, who pawed the ground uneasily. Kieren’s clenched fists were white around the reins. She took one last glance at the home and family she had to leave behind. What choice do I have? Leave and hurt them all, or stay and let them be killed? “Hear me now, old one,” she said at last. “If any harm comes to them, you shall live to regret it.” *
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Elemmire’s throat tightened as he listened to his advisor’s cold comfort. No amount of eulogizing would ease the sorrow of this day. Just a few feet away, his wife lay dead upon a funeral bier she never should have known. Elves were the Firstborn of the Morraugh gods, meant to live in eternal youth while they walked in the world. That should have been the course of Kieren’s life. Not this. Never this. Little Erynasse shuddered against him and he pulled her closer. The loss of her mother devastated his little girl. Kieren had been the eleven-year-old’s closest confidant. Who would she turn to now? It was hard enough for her, being a half-blood. But no nursemaid or lady in waiting would stay for long, not when rumors of Eryn’s “unnaturalness” reached their ears. Elemmire became aware of the silence surrounding him. Rhegin had stopped speaking and stared at him, waiting. He swallowed. Praying to the Gods for strength, he gently passed Eryn into her older brother’s arms. Elerosse met his father’s gaze, their identical gray eyes matching in shared grief. At nineteen, his boy had nearly reached his majority, and would soon have to take up the duties of being Crown Prince. Elemmire worried that this tragedy, combined with the boy’s scars from the past, would break him. Dukes and Duchesses from around the kingdom, some related to Elemmire, had come to pay their respects. With them were lesser Barons and Lords who owed Cuhulaiin fealty, as well as Vassals from the border countries. All watched as Elemmire walked towards the raised dais in front of the bier. Many of Kieren’s handmaids had red-rimmed eyes, and several noblewomen wiped away tears. He felt a surge of anger rise within him. How dare they say they understood? How could they? None of them knew what Kieren meant to him. From above, a crow cried, its shadow circling them all. Elemmire took a deep breath and shook his head, forcing away the sudden burst of emotion. He was king. Now was not his time to grieve. “We gather together to give last honors to Queen Kieren of Cuhulaiin, daughter of the elven king Myrddin of Amacernon. Her goodness has touched all corners of this kingdom in both deed and counsel. As queen, Kieren was respected and peerless. As a wife and mother, she will always be loved and missed.” He swallowed the bitter taint of the word “was,” and closed his eyes. “In the fashion of Men, a queen would be buried with those that ruled before her. But I know that Kieren’s heart would be more at ease if set free upon the wind, rather than entombed under the ground.” Elemmire heard murmured complaints from the crowd, but he ignored them. Kieren never liked enclosed spaces; no wood elf did. If ensuring her spirit an easy rest was the last thing he could do for her, then so be it. But the hardest part still lay ahead. He took a steadying breath and opened his eyes. “In elven tradition, the eldest child of the slain commends the body to the Morraugh. This burden falls upon my son, the Crown Prince Elerosse.” His son’s shoulders stiffened. Stepping away from his sister, Elerosse joined him on the platform. Tall and thin, he’d dressed in white, the traditional color of mourning among elven kind. Whispers among the black-clad mourners carried on the breeze as he walked past. His silver coronet shone bright, just visible through the blades of loose blonde hair that blew across his face. Two clay beads, tying off his warrior’s braids, were wound in his hair—both a symbol of his birthright as heir to the elven kingdoms, and a mark of the boy reaching his majority. The beads and braids were the last thing his mother had ever given him. Elerosse took the lit torch Rhegin offered and faced Kieren’s bier. Her body lay underneath a veil, but scars from the attack still marred her beautiful face and body. Without the angry red marks, Elemmire could almost believe she were merely asleep. Except that her eyes were closed. Elves never slept with their eyes closed. Elerosse’s hand trembled as he lifted the torch towards the pile of tinder. He hesitated. Elemmire wished he could spare his son from having to do this, but the boy had to face this trial alone. The time had come for Elerosse to leave the shroud of childhood behind and don the cloak of manhood. “I dedicate her memory to the Morraugh, who came to us from the ocean that lies to the west,” Elerosse recited, voice shaking. With a suppressed sob, he lit the bier. Flames engulfed the wood, slowly at first, then rising as they climbed ever closer to Kieren’s corpse. The sound of splintering wood and crackling flames filled the silence. The boy hadn’t moved; the orange flames reflected in his wide eyes. Elemmire gently pulled him backwards, away from his mother. Eryn ran up to him. She threw her arms around him and hid her face in the folds of his cloak, blocking out the sight of her mother’s body burning in the blaze. The heat of the fire beat upon his skin. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air, choking him. Elemmire could taste his wife’s ashes in his mouth. The burning wood shifted, unseating Kieren’s body. Her right arm slipped from underneath the shroud. Her hand lay outstretched, reaching for him. Eryn screamed. She ran, dark hair flying behind her. Elemmire knew he should go after her, but he could not tear his eyes from the blaze. Kieren’s hand pointed at him; accusing him of not saving her. He had failed her, and this was the price. Elerosse squeezed his shoulder and turned away, most likely leaving to seek his sister. Afternoon faded into the gloaming. The crowd dispersed. They would be readying themselves for the evening’s refection, where, in Human tradition, stories of the lost would be shared over a large meal and mulled wine. Everyone would be there, expecting Elemmire to play the part of calm and austere king. It was the last place he wanted to be. Elemmire stood on the dais until the fire consumed all that remained of his wife on this earth. It was done. His lifemate was gone. I will have my revenge. Chapter 2 Eryn pushed through the wrought iron gate and stormed inside her mother’s garden. The beauty of the secluded scape did nothing to soothe her anger. Rhegin kept talking about how wonderful Mum was, and complete strangers agreed with him. But they didn’t know her mother. They couldn’t possibly understand what it felt like to lose her. She pulled at the formal braids she’d been forced to wear and threw her coronet to the ground. She loathed that piece of elven-made silver and all it represented. Especially now. Mum was dead. She left Eryn all alone. No one else would ever understand her, not like Mum did. Everyone just tolerated her. They had to, because of her father. Bad enough being a half-blood, but with her outbursts… Eryn knew what her tutors and nannies said about her behind closed doors. She was the freak of the kingdom. The weight of her mother’s necklace against her throat choked her. Eryn ripped the pendant from her neck and glared at the eight-sided disc. Her reflection stared back; strands of pearls woven into her dark messy hair and pale, pointy ears. She touched the tip and ran a finger along the edge. She wasn’t an elf; not really. Her ears were the only sign that she had any elvish blood at all. Her brother had inherited their mother’s abilities and edere light. Rosse could talk to trees and animals. All Eryn could do was…that thing. She might as well be all human. She wasn’t anything like her mother. A soft wind blew the scent of fireflowers towards her. Her mother’s favorite red and white blooms swayed. How many hours had the two of them spent together, tilling the soil and planting the seeds, tending the buds until they bloomed? Eryn ran towards them. Her hands shook. She ripped the flowers from the soil, then tore the petals into tiny pieces. They caught in her dark hair like falling snow. She hated it, hated everything that reminded her of her mother. She turned to the other plots and destroyed every flowerbed and hanging basket they had ever worked on together, tearing the blooms and throwing them to the wind. When the crest of her anger faded, she stared at what she’d done. Soil stained her white dress. She’d ripped her sleeves on the tora bushes, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t right that something so beautiful still remained, not when Eryn’s world had ended. Despite the destruction, the garden still held her mother’s presence. “Feel better?” Eryn jumped, heart pounding. She spun around and faced the swinging gate. “Rosse!” Her brother walked towards her; eyes still red from tears and face pale. He smelled like smoke. Rosse looked around. “Mum loved this place.” Eryn cringed at his use of the past tense. “Mum’s not here to care.” “Why did you do this?” She hated the way he looked at her. “Because.” Rosse raised an eyebrow. “Eryn.” She glared at him and started to walk away, but he grasped her shoulders, holding her still. She fought back, but he wouldn’t let her go. His blonde hair fell over her shoulder, blending with her own dark curls. “Let me go.” “Not until you calm down.” “Leave me alone!” Eryn blinked away tears. She wouldn’t let him see her cry. “You have to calm down, imp. You know what happens when you get like this.” “Let me go!” Suddenly, a blue flame enveloped her, bright and burning. Oh Gods, not now! Rosse released her and stumbled out of her path. She couldn’t hold it back; it was too strong. With a thunderous crack, the power erupted. It shot through the garden like a heated holocaust, burning all that stood in its path. Eryn felt the wave scorching the landscape, dragging her in the undertow; drowning her underneath the crashing waves. When the force receded, Eryn fell to her knees. She felt empty; spent. The garden was a charred wasteland. The flowers she’d unearthed lay in mounds of ash. The century-old Iles trees were nothing more than piles of broken, burnt tinder. Everything once colorful and alive had met the same fate as her mother. Rosse pulled her close. “Oh, Eryn. Not again.” She trembled, but not from the cold. “I don’t understand. Why does this keep happening to me?” Rosse’s arms tightened. “You have got to learn to keep it under control, Eryn. It’s getting worse each time. What if someone else had been here?” She felt so cold. “People are afraid of me.” “They just don’t understand.” “Mum did.” Elerosse rocked her in his arms, just as he had since she was small. “I know.” “No, you don’t!” She tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t let go. “You don’t know what it’s like to have this thing inside me that I can’t control. Mum’s the only one not afraid of me.” She broke free and stumbled away from him. “Even you and Father are scared of me.” “Never of you, Eryn. For you. I just don’t want you, or anyone else, getting hurt.” The garden’s iron gate swung open, the high screech hurting Eryn’s head. She glanced up. “I thought I would find you two here.” Father paused and looked at the ruined landscape. He sighed and shook his head. “Not again.” “Papa, I didn’t mean to.” “Eryn, we have discussed this. You cannot afford to lose your temper. Look what you’ve done to your mother’s garden.” “But Papa, I—” “You never think about the consequences of your actions. One day, someone will get hurt because you’re unable to control yourself.” “Father, that’s not fair,” Rosse said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Today, of all days, you should have worked to prevent this, Eryn.” Father’s eyes were dark, just like his mood. “The nobles of the kingdom are here. There are innocent mourners in the courtyard. And your mother’s body has barely been sent to the Gods and you have an episode. When will you stop acting like a child and begin behaving like a princess? Your mother would be ashamed if she had lived to see your selfishness.” She didn’t know what to say. Unshed tears burned in her eyes. She blinked them away. “I’m sorry—” “And look what you did to your brother.” Father grabbed Rosse’s chin. Eryn saw a small burn mark that she hadn’t noticed before, crossing his neck and cheek. She covered her mouth, swallowing a scream. No. Oh, no. “Any closer and you might have seriously injured him, Eryn. You could have killed him. Did you even stop to think about that?” Rosse held up his hands. “Father, I’m fine. It was an accident.” Eryn didn’t stay to hear the rest. She fled the garden, her father’s words following her. She’d nearly killed her brother. It had never been this bad before. Occasionally she’d knock over tables and chairs if she got really angry. Sometimes, goblets and statues would crack or shatter. But the garden was the worst episode she’d ever had. It hurt. Eryn ran through the courtyard and through the gray stone hallways of her home, ignoring the mourners offering their condolences. They were idiots—every one of them—if they thought their empty words could help at all. She had no problem avoiding the servants in the corridors. They all scurried away the moment they saw. Just like they always did. Her footsteps echoed off the cool gray flagstones. She just wanted to be in her room, away from all those accusing eyes. Even the two sentries that guarded her chambers wouldn’t look at her as they opened the doors. Eryn ran inside and ripped the door handle from the guard’s hand. She wanted the satisfaction of slamming it herself. Shaking, she sank to the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head on them. How could Papa say such a thing to her? Of course she didn’t want to kill anyone, especially not Rosse. But she couldn’t help thinking back to the garden, and how much she wanted something to hurt as much as she did. Chapter 3 Elerosse awoke to an evening sky. The burgundy drapes of his bed canopy swayed in the light wind, filling the room with the scent of jasmine. Stretching, he rose from his bed and washed his face at the cistern in the corner. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but must have passed out sometime after Eryn’s outburst. Odd, he didn’t even recall the trip back to his room. He wet a cloth and relished in the feel of cool water against his forehead. Strangely, his skin felt warm. He never felt warm; it wasn’t something elves experienced. Not even half-elven morretain. But then again, having spent the afternoon mourning Mother… His eyes fell on a worn patch of rug over by the hearth. Short golden tufts of shed fur gleamed in the firelight, and Elerosse’s heart lurched. Deohgee… That grigor beast had been his best friend since they’d met over a decade ago. They’d saved each other’s lives several times over, surviving a large, frightening world all on their own. His fists clenched. There was no way Deohgee had been responsible for Mum’s death. He would never believe it, no matter what the guards said they saw. He’d never forgive them, either. The look on Deohgee’s face… His stomach churned. He must have thought I was mad at him. They wouldn’t even let me say goodbye. Elerosse took a deep breath, pushing the anger away. It wouldn’t do any good. Deohgee was gone. He dragged himself over to the tall, paneled oak cabinet and removed a fresh shirt, tan trews, and blue doublet. He removed the wrinkled funeral garb he’d fallen asleep in, put on his evening attire, and gazed at his image in the standing mirror. Dressed in that particular shade of blue, with his blond hair and pale face, he looked like his mother. Elerosse wiped his eyes on the back of his cuff. Now was not the time. He could indulge in his grief when alone. Now, his duties as Crown Prince called, as much as those responsibilities annoyed them. He opened the heavy oak door and nodded to Traes and Kall. The two guards that patrolled the hallway outside his chambers were brothers, sons of Captain Vidarr, and only a few years older than he. Next week, Elerosse would begin field training with them. I wonder if I’ll have to wear the jade standard of the palace guard, too. The brothers bowed. “Your Highness.” Elerosse sighed. He may have grown up with such formalities, but hated them nonetheless. Especially after a day like this. “Be at ease.” The two young men relaxed, but did not lower the spears they carried. “Excuse me, my prince,” Kall said, bowing his head, “but are you well?” “What do you mean?” “Forgive my tactless little brother,” Traes said, elbowing Kall in the stomach. “He’s had that foot in his mouth since birth.” Elerosse chuckled. “No fear. I’ve done the same many times.” The two guards smirked. “I only meant that you look…well, piqued, your highness.” He swallowed, throat tight. “It’s been a bad day.” All traces of humor fled. Traes stumbled over a response, but Elerosse lifted his hand and put the mask of Crown Prince back in place. “I am as well as can be expected. Thank you for you concern.” Elerosse turned away from them and continued his journey through the castle, ignoring the two soldiers following him. He took his time traveling to the Great Hall. This night would be hard. Nor was he overly eager to face Father again, either. Elerosse could forgive his black mood, but his reaction to what happened in the garden was so strange; so harsh and excessive. Elerosse didn’t understand. Father had doted on Eryn since the day she was born. So what got him so angry with her this afternoon? High-pitched laughter from a side hallway brought him to a halt. “Did you see his new cloak? He looked so handsome. Right out of a bard’s tale,” a feminine voice said, giggling like a flitting bird. “And he looked so stately wearing his crown,” a second female said. “If he asked, I’d be his queen.” Elerosse scowled. His mother’s funeral ended only a few hours ago, and already the court ladies were trying to take her place? How dare they! “Not that he would ever notice one of us,” the second voice replied, sounding bitter. “I’ve never even seen the prince looking at the ladies of court. I wonder if the king arranged a marriage for him already.” An embarrassed blush crept up the back of his neck. Those ladies thought he was handsome? A third speaker joined the mix. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I’ve heard talk of land lords and nobles who would never allow their daughters to marry a half-elf.” “What do you mean?” Yes, what did she mean? “Well, didn’t you notice the lack of elves at the funeral? One of the kitchen girls said the elves disavowed the queen.” “But why?” Elerosse had wondered the same thing himself. The speaker lowered her voice. “Well, rumor has it that Lord Javad banished the queen from the elven realms.” “What? Why?” “Do you remember what happened to the wife of the queen’s brother all those years ago?” “No.” “Do tell.” “Well, it seems the queen authorized her execution and tried to carry it out herself. According to elven law, kinslaying is punishable by death. But King Elemmire protected her and banished the other elves from Cuhulaiin.” That’s not what happened, Elerosse fumed. That crazy, hell-raised witch nearly killed me. She deserved what happened to her. “Didn’t an elf die, trying to protect the prince?” Elerosse had to remind himself to breathe. “Yes!” the third voice exclaimed. “Someone tried to kill him because he’s a half-blood. Neither human, nor elf. There’s never been a half-breed like that before.” One of the girls sniggered. “Until his sister, you mean.” Another laugh. “She is so annoying. And we always have to be polite to her since she’s the princess. What’s wrong with her, anyway? She has no friends. And she’s scared away every nursemaid and servant ever assigned to her. The guards are actually afraid of her. My mother said it’s because she’s unnatural.” Elerosse growled. No one had the right to say such things about his sister. He stalked into the hallway, arms akimbo. He glared at the three gossipmongers. “How dare you.” “Your highness!” a brunette squeaked, bowing awkwardly. “We…we were just talking.” “Spreading useless rumors, more like. You three know nothing.” “We meant no offense, your highness,” the redhead said. “But you have offended.” Elerosse took a deep breath, forcing his temper down. He did not need this. Not today. “Be gone. And keep your vicious tongues inside your empty heads from now on.” The three curtsied and quickly fled down the hallway, away from him. Elerosse clenched his fists. He hated it when people talked about him and his sister like they were objects to be studied! And he especially loathed it when they brought up the past. Elerosse’s memories of the time were vague; he’d been only eight years old when his sister was born and still recovering from the Fade. But he did remember something about a bargain involving both himself and Eryn, and a she-elf named Laerwen who’d tried to kill him for the crimes of his father’s ancestors. It seemed elven grudges lasted as long as their eternal youth. “Good evening, my prince.” Elerosse jumped, startled at the sudden voice. “Rhegin, you surprised me.” His old tutor smiled and bobbed his gray-streaked head. “And how many times must I ask that you call me Rosse. You’re practically a tane to me, after all.” “Ah, but I am merely the advisor and tutor that spends most of his days chasing after my wayward Prince and headstrong Princess when they are tardy for lessons.” The man scratched his angular nose and pushed a piece of graying black hair behind his ear, then picked a piece of lint from the arm of his black robe. His grin faded as he placed a comforting hand on Elerosse’s shoulder. “It has been a hard day. How are you coping?” Elerosse paused, willing the grief to fade, at least for now. He swallowed, and started walking again. “As well as can be expected, I suppose.” Rhegin fell into step beside him. “Are you?” He tilted his head. Rhegin did not usually second guess him. “Aye. Why do you ask?” “To be honest, you look flushed.” He leaned closer to his old tutor, and whispered his reply. “Eryn had another episode in the garden earlier today. The worst one yet.” He sighed. “I haven’t felt right since then.” Rhegin looked alarmed. “Did she hurt you?” “Of course not. Eryn would never hurt anyone. You shouldn’t believe the gossip of the washmaids, Rhegin. Eryn is no more dangerous than I am.” The advisor did not look convinced, but let the subject slide. “Then perhaps you are sick?” “No. I can’t be. I’m morretain, remember? Elves don’t get sick, not even half-elves.” “But you are half human, too. You should speak to Raneurin.” Elerosse shook his head and smiled. “Sorry, but I have seen more than enough of Raneurin and his healing wing. I have no desire to step foot in there ever again.” They turned a corner and entered the Great Hall. The blazing fires in the braziers felt hotter than usual; the air heavy and stifling. Elerosse stopped, overwhelmed by the wall of heat. He swayed before catching his balance. He turned from Rhegin and wiped his brow with his sleeve. He’d never felt so dizzy before. Shaking his head, Elerosse nodded his greetings to the assembled nobles and sat at his father’s right. Vidarr, the weapons master, gave him the same curious look Rhegin did, but none of the other lords or ladies seemed to pay the young prince much mind. His father nodded to acknowledge his arrival, and polite chatter resumed around the long rectangular table. Thankfully, no one tried to draw him into conversation. Elerosse doubted he could form a coherent reply. He busied himself looking at the tapestried hall, wishing for a cool breeze to blow through one of the tall open windows. A raven perched in the wooden rafters, and he wondered if it were as uncomfortable as he. Elerosse pulled at the suffocating high collar of his tunic. How did the other lords and ladies the heat and heavy clothing? As the kitchen servants brought in the evening feast, Elerosse thought he would be sick. Foods that he normally enjoyed now made him queasy. The heavy perfume of herb-laden vegetables and pungent soups ripped through him and the river trout with its flowing juices and strong fishy odor, made him want to vomit. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, praying to make it through the meal without embarrassing himself. “Elerosse!” His head snapped up. “Pardon me, Father. My mind drifted elsewhere.” Father looked cross. “I thought as much, seeing I called your name four times. You are nineteen now, Elerosse. And the Crown Prince of Cuhulaiin. It is time you began acting like it.” “My apologies, Father.” A flush of shame warmed his cheeks. His father didn’t have to publicly chastise him in front of half the kingdom, did he? He swallowed. His throat burned. “What did you want to ask me?” Elemmire’s eyes narrowed. “I asked if you had seen your sister this evening. She is late.” The strong scent of smoked salmon brought tears to his eyes. He struggled to control his stomach. “Eryn is probably resting in her room. It’s been a…rather rough day for her.” “She knows the rules of this household. Her tardiness is inexcusable.” Eager for a chance to escape, Elerosse said, “I’ll go fetch her, Father.” “We have servants for that, Elerosse.” He crossed his arms. “It’s no trouble, Father,” he said, rising quickly. He held onto the back of the carved chair to steady himself. “I’ll be back soon.” “See that you are.” Elerosse practically ran from the Great Hall, waiving off Traes and Kall as they started to follow him. He didn’t think he could handle being around people right now. Not without shaming himself if he did loose the battle with his churning stomach. The brisk hallway air was a welcome reprieve from the oppressive heat of the dining hall. As soon as the great oak doors of the chamber closed, Elerosse pressed his sweaty forehead against the cold gray stones of the castle. What’s wrong with me? He didn’t know how long he stood there, head aching and a fever burning under his skin. Finally, he forced himself to walk towards his sister’s chambers. It seemed to take forever to reach Eryn’s rooms. Luckily, there were few servants in this part of the castle, and only a pair of guards stood watch in front of her room. Knocking on the door, he heard the rustle of cloth and a faint, “Go away,” from within. “Eryn, it’s me.” Surprised at the hoarseness of his own voice, Elerosse rubbed his throat. “You’re late for dinner. Let me in.” “Why? So you can yell at me instead of Father?” Elerosse felt his own temper rising, and struggled to dampen it. “I have never yelled at you, Erynasse. Now stop your sulking and open the door.” “I’m not sulking.” Elerosse heard more shifting followed by the ping of the brass lock. Eryn opened the door a crack. Her lips moved, about to say something, when her blue eyes widened and she flung open the door. “What happened to you? You look awful.” “Thanks so much,” he grumbled as he walked around her and entered the room. Elerosse sighed at the tell-tale signs of another temper tantrum. Shoes and clothes lay on the floor in discarded heaps. Shredded bits of parchment littered the writing desk, and the two sitting chairs were lying on their sides. He inched his way over to her unmade bed and sank onto the soft duvet, grateful for the resting place. “Redecorating?” “None of your business.” Elerosse could hear her concern beneath the harsh words. “What’s wrong? You don’t look well.” “It’s nothing.” “You look like Vidarr did last Yuletide when he fell ill.” “Eryn, leave it.” “No.” She crossed her arms, scowling just like their father had a short while ago. “I think you’re sick. You should go see Raneurin.” “You sound like Rhegin.” “If you don’t go to the healing wing, I’ll go tell the healer myself.” Elerosse had every intention of silencing his little sister with a well placed head knuckle. But as he tried to rise from the soft bed, a wave of vertigo hit him and he lost the battle with his stomach. He leaned over the side and retched until he dry heaved. When he finished expelling the little he’d eaten that day, he collapsed onto the bed. The room spun. He heard his sister’s voice, but couldn’t understand what she said. She sounded muffled; like they were under water. Morraugh, help me! Shouting. Loud footsteps. Cool hands ghosting over his fevered skin. His head throbbed. Something bitter filled his mouth. He choked on the thick liquid and tried to spit it out, but someone rubbed his throat, forcing him to swallow the noxious brew. Colors swirled around him. Red and black blurs tried lifting him from the bed and setting him on his feet, but he had no strength to stand. Exhausted, he crumpled to the floor. A small dark shape bent over him, shouting his name. Something wet splashed onto his cheek. He tried to respond, but couldn’t. *
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When consciousness reclaimed him, Elerosse wished it hadn’t. His head pounded as if a herd of rheo were trampling through his skull. His throat burned, and his stomach churned with every breath. His very bones ached. He groaned. “He’s waking up.” Elerosse knew he should recognize that voice, but couldn’t name the owner. All he knew was the pain. “Wake up, son.” “Open your eyes, your highness.” “Please, wake up, Rosse. Please.” The last voice he definitely recognized. He couldn’t not come when she needed him. “Eryn.” He felt her little hands encircle his. “Yes! Yes, wake up now.” Elerosse opened his eyes, and quickly shut them, the brightness of the room hurting his head. Wonderful. The healing wing. Again. Eryn sat on the bed next to him, eyes rimmed red, grasping his hand. She wore a nightshift and robe. How long have I been sleeping? On his other side, Healer Raneurin checked Elerosse’s wrists. At the end of the bed stood his father, face blank save for the worry in his gray eyes. “What happened?” Elerosse slurred. “You do not remember?” Raneurin asked. “I’d gone up to Eryn’s room. And then…” He stopped. He could not recall what happened next. It worried him. “What’s happening to me?” “That is exactly what I would like to know, Raneurin,” his father said. The healer released Elerosse’s arm and shook his head. “If someone else, I would say it’s just a late winter’s sickness.” “But he’s morretain,” Father whispered, leaning closer to Raneurin, but speaking loud enough for Elerosse to overhear. “There should be enough elvish blood in him to prevent illness.” “I know, sire. But he is also half human. He and the princess are the only half-elves I know of. There is much I am uncertain of, but I maintain the prince is simply sick.” Elerosse didn’t appreciate the way they talked, as if he weren’t even in the room. “How do I get well again?” “For human patients, I recommend bed rest and willowfew tea. But there are no precedents for this, your highness. I have never treated an elf for physical illness, much less a half-elf.” “How bad is this, Raneurin?” his father asked. “He’s got a high fever. I don’t like the quickened rate of his heartbeat, either.” Eryn gripped his hand even harder. Elerosse had never seen her look so frightened. “Is he going to be all right?” “Right now, he needs rest.” Elerosse noticed that the healer did not answer his sister’s question. Instead, he handed Elerosse a steaming ceramic goblet. “Drink the tea, your highness. It should work for your human half, at least.” Elerosse downed the pungent brew in one swallow. It tasted worse than it smelled. He grimaced. “I’ll check on him throughout the night, sire. Let us leave him to sleep.” Raneurin guided Eryn from the room, despite her protests that she wanted to stay with him. His father clasped his shoulder in silent support before also departing. Finally alone, Elerosse allowed his fear to rise. Elves were not supposed to get sick. Did Eryn’s outburst really do this to him? But how could it? Her magicks were destructive, yes. But she’d never shown any abilities like this before. Certainly not to the extent of what happened to the garden. Could this be a new development in her powers? With these thoughts troubling his mind, Elerosse drifted into an uneasy sleep. He found himself in his mother’s garden, blooming in all its springtime splendor. Perfumes of fireflower and foxglove filled the air. A wooden swing hung from a low Iles branch; a remnant of his childhood. A flash of blue light. The grove turned black, charred like the aftermath of Eryn’s outburst. Elerosse felt suffocated; trapped. Smoke rose from the gray land, revealing hundreds of corpses. Heart in his throat, Elerosse approached the closest body. It surprised him to see human features—rounded ears, bearded face, and tan complexion. Wet mud matted his hair, and his skin tinted green. A moment of recognition passed through him, but left too quickly. He walked to the next corpse, dread driving him to find a living soul amongst this massacre. None lived. Every body, human. No survivors. All looked as if they suffered the same awful end, whatever that might have been. Elerosse thought he would be sick. Or go mad from the silence. Two shapes emerged from the swirling mist. Identical down to their brown eyes and long dark hair, they each bore intricate tattooed symbols carved into their faces. Elerosse had never seen looks of such loathing before. The fog cleared, and Elerosse remembered. “Aiya. Aydin.” He hadn’t seen his twin cousins since their family left Cuhulaiin eleven years ago in disgrace. “What…?” Aiya fingered the longbow in his hands. The raven-haired elf notched a red feathered arrow. Dried silvery blood stained the shaft and arrowhead. A memory came of a red-haired elf, bleeding, shot through by that very arrow. Elerosse could almost hear her scream. Her son Aydin carried a sword at his side, and held a dark, glowing sphere in his hands. Crimson light illuminated the globe. Just looking at the object made Elerosse feel dizzy. He could sense something wrong about it, like the wrongness of his strange illness. Aydin glared at him. He lifted the sphere into a narrow shaft of sunlight. It pulsed like a living thing. Swirls of purple lightning warred within. Suddenly, pain unlike any he’d ever known ripped through Elerosse. Every ounce of blood and bone screamed. He fell to the floor and wrapped his arms around himself. Aydin kicked him in the stomach. “Filthy little morretain,” he growled. “Reap what you have sown.” Elerosse felt thick, metallic liquid fill his mouth. He coughed. “What?” Neither twin answered. Aiya moved forward, hate swirling in his midnight eyes. He dropped he longbow and instead took the arrow and scratched it down Elerosse’s cheek, drawing blood. Then he plunged the shaft into Elerosse’s chest. Elerosse’s whole body arched with pain. The twins laughed as he struggled to pull the arrow from his chest. He couldn’t get a grip on the thin wooden shaft. A river of blood ran from the wound. “See you soon, little cousin,” Aiya said. The twins faded, as did the human corpses surrounding him. He lay on the cold ground, gasping for air. All traces of blood were gone; so was the arrow. He closed his eyes, willing the spinning to stop and leave him be. He felt a cool hand upon his cheek. The touch felt familiar, and it instantly soothed his aching body. A soft kiss landed on his forehead. “I can’t see you,” he mumbled. A soft laugh, like silver bells. “That is because your eyes are closed, little fox.” He remembered this game. And who he had always played it with. His eyes shot open. He could scarcely breathe. “Mum?” She knelt beside him, her face exactly as it had been during life. No wounds from the attack scarred her ghost like they had her corpse. “How…” Elerosse swallowed. This was too much. His mother! His dead mother. “You died.” She smiled. “No, little fox. I did not.” What? “But…” “Illusions are made to deceive, my son.” “I don’t understand.” “A darkness is coming. It is inside you even now.” His heart slammed against his ribcage. “My sickness?” His mother stood and stepped away. Her blue eyes flashed with urgency. “Time is running out. You must stand by her when she is Called.” “Who?” She started to fade. “Mother, wait!” Her body turned translucent, like moonlight through stained glass. He grasped at her fading image, desperate not to lose her again. Her last words sent chills down his spine. “Seek the Source and harness the enemy within.” Elerosse awoke screaming.   |