A Mother's Secrets

by Tuppence Van de Vaarst

  “Ah!” She spun around, tackling Niara to the ground. “You minx!”

  Niara collapsed in a pile of giggles. Vinet pushed her into the snow, careful not to hold her too hard. “You ambushed me!”

  Niara continued to laugh, so hard that she couldn’t stand up. Vinet sat up and clutched dramatically at her chest. “Evalynna! I have been ambushed! Avenge me!”

  “Sun-bringer!”

  Vinet looked up at Evalynna’s curse. For a moment, all she could see was a flurry of snowballs, all flying different directions. She ducked as one flew over her head. Then Evalynna threw herself on top of Gwyn, two snowballs in her hands. “I shall take you with me!”

  Taken off guard, Gwyn disappeared into a snowbank, Evalynna on top of her. Vinet sat back on her heels, laughing as the two of them finally emerged, covered in snow.

  She reached out and pulled Niara into a hug. “I guess that makes you the victor.”

  “I win! I win!” Niara squealed. She started dancing through the snow, hugging first Gwyn and then pouncing on Evalynna, who was lying on her back in the snow.

  Evalynna groaned and pushed Niara off of her. “I’m already dead. Gwyn killed me.”

  “You killed me,” Gwyn pointed out. “In a suicidal attack, nonetheless. You have only yourself to blame.”

  “It was the only way to take you out!” Evalynna protested.

  Gwyn laughed and reached down to offer her a hand up. Evalynna took it, then pulled Gwyn into the snowbank with her.

  Vinet laughed at the two bodyguards wrestling in the snow. She hadn’t felt this lighthearted in ages.

  She turned at the sound of someone clearing his throat. Her seneschal stood in the doorway, a bit sheepishly. Vinet sighed and got to her feet. Kildar wouldn’t be interrupting her if it wasn’t important.

  “I beg your pardon, Lady Vinet,” Kildar said as she approached. “I know you intended to spend the morning with your niece. But you have a visitor.”

  Vinet blinked. She had not been expecting anyone. “Who?”

  Kildar cleared his throat again. “Ah, an elf, Lady Vinet. He said you had met before, that he is an ambassador at the capital?”

  Vinet smiled broadly. “Kinaevan! He came to visit? Oh, that’s wonderful! This won’t disrupt my plans, Niara needs to meet him as well. Show him to the library, will you?”

  Kildar smiled and bowed. “Very good, Lady Vinet.”

  She turned back to the garden. “Niara!” she cried. “Come on, leave those two to their squabbling. You and I have a visitor.”

  “A visitor?” Niara came bounding over. Her eyes were bright with curiosity. “I’ve never had a visitor before.”

  “Well, you have one now,” Vinet said. She smiled and brushed some of the snow off Niara’s cloak. “Run and get changed, dear. He’s in the library.”

  Niara scampered off, and Vinet went to her own chambers at a more sedate pace. She peeled off her soaked clothing, changed into a simple wool dress and slipped her feet into fleece-lined slippers before making her way to the library.

  Kinaevan rose from a chair as she entered. Vinet glanced about to make sure there was no one else in the room, then walked forward to hug him. He returned the embrace firmly. Curiously, he seemed to be carrying a book with him, tucked under his robes near his heart. “Greetings and Lady’s Guidance to you, Vinet Elfsdaughter,” he said, smiling. “It is good to see you.”

  “You as well,” she said and smiled. “I’m glad you came. There is someone…”

  A little gasp of joy made Vinet turn as Niara entered the room. She stared at Kinaevan, her eyes wide with happiness.

  Vinet’s smile widened. “Niara, I know you’ve met before, but you need a proper introduction this time. This is your grandfather, my father. Father, this is my daughter, Niara.”

  Kinaevan sank down in a crouch in his usual fluid motion. “Guidance to you, daughter of my daughter.”

  Niara met his eyes in excitement, but remained silent, clearly not knowing what to say. She glanced around and spotted a book sitting on the table. “Have you read this story?” she asked Kinaevan.

  Kinaevan raised an eyebrow. “I have not. What is it?”

  “It’s a legend about dragons!” Niara exclaimed. “And a princess! And how she outwits the dragon and saves the kingdom!”

  Kinaevan smiled. “That sounds like a fantastic story, little queen.”

  Niara’s face flushed. “It’s probably not real,” she said. “But it’s fun to read. She paused. “Why do you call me a queen? Mother’s not a queen, and she’d have to be for me to be one, right?”

  “Every lie has an aspect of truth often as many. Do not discard your stories too quickly.” He stood up. “As to why I call you queen, that is because it is in your blood.”

  “A queen?” Niara stared up at him, wide eyed. “Mama told me about the elf part, but not the queen part.”

  Vinet managed a laugh. “You did not tell me about a queen, Father,” she said.

  Kinaevan laughed. At his gesture, they sat next to the fire. After a moment’s hesitation, Niara climbed into Kinaevan’s lap. He appeared startled at first, and then smiled warmly.

  “In the Era of Great Fire, in which there came the dragons,” he winked at Niara, “The Faithful became four separate realms. Our blood carries the ancient lineage of one line of royalty, descended from Queen Olvae of the Oaken Spear.”

  Niara’s eyes widened. Vinet leaned forward as well.

  “Was Queen Olvae a great hero?” Niara asked.

  Kinaevan nodded. “At one time, yes, but heroes who become rulers rarely remain heroes.” His eyes darkened, and Vinet shivered at the shadow that seemed to pass over the room.

  Kinaevan blinked, and the sunlight returned. He looked about the room. “Would you like to hear her tale?”

  Niara nodded eagerly.

  Kinaevan laughed. “Then I will tell it to you in the style that I first heard it.” He took a deep breath. “In the first days of the Age of Great Fire, a great queen, passionate follower and close friend of the Lady, strode under the boughs of the Greenwood. Her name was Olvae. This is her Memory-in-Voice.”

  He paused. “There are some words that do not translate exactly. You must forgive me.”

  Vinet shook her head, gesturing him to continue.

  “Olvae, blood-daughter of Aevan Firstborn, blood-daughter of Olathae Duskbrow, kin of Artran Stone-Speaker and Hiliakae Who-Made-The-Trees-Weep, and oath-sister of the Lady. The grandmaster of the Treespeakers-Grove broke his vow of silence to tell Olvae, her apprentice, of the death of Aevan Firstborn, High King of Elvenkind, and father to Olvae. ‘Of my mother?’ the apprentice asked. ‘Dead,’ answered the grandmaster. Then the Sight took her in a vision of the coming destruction long forewarned by the Lady.”

  Vinet frowned as she tried to memorize the list of names. Aevan FirstBorn. Olathae Duskbrow. Artran Stone-Speaker. Hiliakae Who-Made-The-Trees-Weep. She would have to ask Kinaevan about that one. What had Hiliakae done to make the trees weep?

  Kinaevan closed his eyes and continued. “Olvae New-Queen lay down the mantle of Treespeaker and left the Grove behind. She went to her people and ruled them well. There came a day when she was to be tested. The Lady called her to her, to meet and share vision in the Treespeakers-Grove. On this day, her path grew harsh. For as she entered the Treespeakers-Grove, the Great Burner and her Consorts Three attacked.”

  Niara gasped. “The Great Burner?” she whispered.

  Kinaevan nodded. “The ancient one, the one who caused the Age of Great Fire. The ancient enemy of the Faithful.”

  Niara’s eyes widened.

  Kinaevan continued. “Fire and fury, battle bitter. The Thorns of the Lady were broken and cast aside. The grove-sacred screamed as the Great Burner laid waste. Queen Olvae, she-who-abandoned-her mantel, reached out to a great Oak-of-the-Beginning. This noble tree surrendered its essence to her and from it she fashioned an oaken spear. This she cast toward the Great Burner; the power behind it
was the pain of ancient trees. The throw, though true, was intercepted by the third Consort who cast himself before it. With a great roar he tumbled, slain. The Great Burner and the final two Consorts fled, aware now of their own vulnerability. On that day, the Lady named her True Queen Olvae Oaken Spear. And so she was named, and so she is remembered.”

  Kinaevan looked at Vinet. “And Olvae had a son, and from her son’s lover I was begotten. The ancient line of a queen.”

  “But you are not a king,” Vinet said quietly. This wasn’t the entire story, Vinet knew. Something had happened to Olvae, something to make her no longer a hero. Kinaevan had said it himself. Those who become rulers rarely remain heroes.

  Kinaevan shook his head sharply. “The Faithful no longer have kings or queens,” he said.

  “Are there more stories like that?” Niara demanded. “I’ve never heard one like that before!”

  Vinet smiled at her daughter’s enthusiasm. “Nor have I,” she said. She met her father’s eyes. “There is very little on elven history that is written down. I have collected what I can, but I cannot separate truth from fiction.”

  Kinaevan nodded. "We rarely write our stories down, though in these dark times I have begun some of the work myself."

  Vinet raised an eyebrow as her father withdrew a small book from inside his robe. “The tales hold their power when told in our own tongue. A tongue that I need to teach you both. Particularly you, Vinet, as you progress down your path.”

  The look Kinaevan gave her spoke volumes. She nodded in understanding.

  “I have written some of the tales in this tongue, as well as our own. Study them carefully, my child.”

  “Will you teach us Elvish?” Niara looked up.

  Kinaevan smiled. Before he answered, he handed the book to Vinet. It was small and light, but Vinet held it as if it was more precious than any other book in her library. And, in a way, it was.

  “Indeed. That is why I came during Manyu’s Time. There is no business to hold me in the capital, and it is far more important that I spend my time guiding you both.” He nodded decisively. “Our first lesson shall be now.”

  **********

  Maple is curious and fun. She laughs until the day is done.

  The old children’s rhyme rang through Vinet’s head as she closed her eyes, the image of the maple in the courtyard firm in her mind. She wondered, now that Kinaevan had started teaching her, if that old children’s rhyme had been translated from an elven teaching song. It certainly seemed accurate.

  The tree in the courtyard. Strong, supple. Seemingly dead to outside eyes, but so alive and full of life. Sleepy, but there was a warm chuckle as it welcomed her.

  She saw Gwyn and Evalynna sitting side by side in the garden. Someone had cleared the snow off a bench. They sat close together for warmth, deep in intense conversation. She wanted to pay closer attention, but that wasn’t the point of this exercise.

  Yew is wise and full of life. He guards the watcher from all strife.

  The next tree her father had recommended. Further uphill from Ilhelm Castle, on the road into the Gray Mountains. Hardly anyone there this time of year. Strong and hard, watchful. Not playful like the maple, but comforting. Snowy hills, soft in the snow. A cardinal, bright red, chirping on the branches of the tree. The sigh of the wind.

  She stretched out again, further this time. Towards Duskryn, and the trees she’d taken note of there. A hawthorn.

  Thorn is a prickly one, beware! But clearest vision is his prayer.

  Harsh pain. She gasped as she settled in. Everything was sharp. The thorn didn’t care. It prickled everything. Her sight was sharp too, sharper than it had ever been. She could see for miles. No snow here. Saihid was pacing the hall. Pellalindra was curled up by a fire, draped in furs. Sobbing? Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  She tried to hang onto the vision, to figure out what was wrong, but it pricked at her, forcing her away. She flung her mind out, trying to reach a nearby tree.

  Pain! She gasped and doubled over. Malevolent and dark, it bent over her, obscuring everything else. She fought back, trying to free herself. Dark eyes. Heavy, oppressive. She couldn’t breathe!

  She opened her eyes with a gasp. The last verse of the child’s song danced in her mind.

  Elder, he has deadly teeth. Death comes for those who lie beneath.

  She steadied herself with a few deep breaths. Mazda’s light! she thought, that was frightening.

  “Lady Vinet?”

  She glanced up at Nazir’s voice. She’d been in the library, gazing out the window to where she could just make out the maple tree in the garden. Not entirely private, but she hadn’t expected to be disturbed.

  “Nazir,” she said. She glanced down at the papers scattered in front of her. Notes, mostly, translations of fragments of Elvish from her father’s book. And a copy of the children’s poem.

  “Interesting research?” Nazir asked. “Anything I can help with?”

  She hesitated. She shouldn’t. “I… I think I’m fine,” she said.

  He smiled. “Very well. Let me know if you need assistance.” He turned and started walking to where a desk had been set up for him.

  “Nazir,” she called.

  He stopped and looked back at her.

  Mazda’s light, why had she done that? I can’t tell him anything. He already knows too much, she argued with herself. Gwyn would kill me if I told him about Kinaevan as well as Niara.

  He was still standing there, waiting for her. She searched through her mind, frantically looking for a topic. Stories! He had to have heard stories. And she’d been unable to draw any further stories about this from her father. “Have you ever heard of the Age of Great Fire?”

  He frowned. “The Age of Great Fire… let me think…” he walked over to his desk and started flipping through some of the books and papers stacked on it. She made a mental note to assign him a secretary.

  “Aha!” Triumphantly, Nazir pulled out one of the books and walked over to Vinet. He held it out, fingers framing a passage.

  “A tale from my childhood, actually. I’m afraid it’s just a brief mention in the prologue. ‘Many years ago, in the Age of Great Fire, darkness ruled the skies. But then came the Age of Green, and our people rejoiced.’”

  Vinet sighed. That told her little more than Kinaevan already had.

  “Where did you hear about that?” Nazir asked, interested. “I’ve only ever heard of it in this prologue. Do you think it was an actual event?”

  She nodded without thinking. “I was talking to Kinaevan and he told me…” she shut her mouth abruptly.

  Nazir looked at her curiously. He didn’t press.

  “It was just a mention then too,” Vinet lied. “It seems to be an important event that everyone in the story’s original audience would have been well aware of.”

  Nazir nodded. “Those are always the things that are lost,” he said with a sigh. “Those things that are believed so obvious they needn’t be written down.”

  “Is that why you make a life of writing stories down?” Vinet asked.

  Nazir shrugged. “That, and no one else would ever write down the stories of commoners,” he said. “Most nobles are interested in legends that glorify their past. Since they’re the ones with money to fund any research…”

  Vinet smiled sympathetically. She didn’t need him to clarify that most nobles did not include her.

  He hesitated before asking. “Any other tidbits from Kinaevan’s tales?”

  Oh, Mazda take it. Surely telling him the story of Queen Olvae wouldn’t hurt, she thought.

  “The Faithful used to have kings and queens,” she said, gesturing him to pull up a chair next to hers. “The one in the story, Queen Olvae, fought the Great Burner during the Age of Great Fire. Olvae nearly killed her, but one of her consorts took the blow meant for her and died instead.”

  Nazir looked fascinated, so she continued. “Queen Olvae was kin to a number of the elven leaders,” she said.
“Kin to their Lady, who is not a goddess.” She smiled wryly. “I’ve yet to meet this Lady myself. But she’s also kin to mortals, kin to Kinaevan, and…” she shut her mouth abruptly again. What was getting into her? What was it about him that just made her want to talk? To her relief, he, once again, didn’t press.

  “And he’s teaching you elvish?” He asked, gesturing at the papers strewn in front of her.

  She glanced down sheepishly. Her notes made no sense, not even to her. She needed a secretary as badly as he did.

  “May I?” he asked, reaching for one of the papers.

  She nodded. If he could make any sense of the little tidbits of which word was which, he was more than welcome to it.

  “The fourth born from the Mountain-God’s hatred of the dragons, his Brother’s chaotic creation. The Mountain-God made them in the form of his domain, colossal and strong. It was they, in friendship with the Goldwood-Realm that cast down the Great Burner after her long reign.” Nazir looked up. “What does any of this mean?”

  She hesitated. She had told him so much already.

  “It’s part of a creation story, as far as I can tell,” she said. “Kinaevan didn’t translate that one for me, I’ve been working on it myself. The elves were first, before even the first of the realms splitting, then the humans, whom the Great Burner cursed with short lives, then the rest of the races. I’m not sure which race this passage refers to.”

  Nazir frowned. “Mountain-God, colossal and strong. And friends with the Goldwood-Realm.”

  “The Goldwood Realm are the elves,” she said. “At least, I think so.”

  Nazir nodded.

  There was an uncomfortable silence as the two sat together. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Nazir…”

  “Vinet…”

  Both of them stopped. Vinet laughed nervously and gestured for Nazir to go first.

  He shook his head and returned the gesture. She looked down, flustered.

  “Nazir, I… there are some things, I can’t…” Mazda’s light! Why can’t I talk straight? I’m not a flustered child! Vinet scolded herself mentally.

  “Vinet,” he had forgotten to use her title. She didn’t correct him as he continued. “There’s something I should tell you. It… it might…”