WEEPING WILLOW
(PART TWO)
by
Sandra Madera
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY
SandraMadera.com
Weeping Willow
Copyright © 2011 by Sandra Madera
Ebook Edition License Notes
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* * * * *
NALIN:
I had awakened from a deep sleep, feeling a sense of dread that I haven’t felt in a long time. Fidgeting with my human sleepwear, I glanced beside me, noticing the bed was empty.
“Willow?” I called, momentarily looking down at my arm to see that my wound had healed completely. Tracing my hand over that portion of my arm, the only thing that would have indicated that I had actually been injured was a sliver of darkened skin which would dissipate over time.
“Willow?” I called again, sitting up in bed.
When she didn’t respond, I rose to my feet, feeling my strength renewed as this place was closer to my realm than the human Earth. I crossed the room and knocked on the bathroom door. When there was no response, I reached for the knob, pushing the door open and letting it hit the wall with a thump.
Empty.
I turned around, tracing every object in the room with my eyes. It took a second for me to register that she was gone.
My mind raced with all the possibilities of what could have happened. Could my revelations have been too much for her mind to take? Could she have only pretended to believe in my words?
Then my eyes drifted to my reflection in the standing mirror. My appearance had changed during my sleep to that of my true self. I had masked my appearance and constructed a facade that I felt would have been the most pleasing to Willow. However, during my slumber, I could barely hold onto such facades. My real form must have frightened her away.
I glared at my reflection, suddenly feeling anger rise within me. I hated my white hair... and pale skin. I hated my gray eyes. I despised everything about myself.
Needing to expend my negative energy, I found myself looking for something to break. In the midst of my fury, I flipped over the mirror, shattering the glass and scattering the pieces at my feet. Feeling the rage build inside of me, I swept my arm over the table top, hurling all of my books onto the floor. Picking the table up as if it weighed nothing, I threw it across the room, breaking a leg off and cracking it’s flat surface down the middle.
No matter what I did or how many things I broke, the anger didn’t leave me. Instead, it grew painfully into a large void in the middle of my chest. I couldn’t help but feel as if this was the fate I was entitled to. I was alone as I was always meant to be.
* * * * *
WILLOW:
“My name is Willow,” I chanted, cradling myself. “Willow. Willow is my name.”
There are few times in a person’s life where an audible snap can be heard when the mind can no longer cope with reality. For me, this was one of those times.
Surrounded by darkness, I was trapped in a small room no bigger than a closet. The windowless, stone walls were closing in on me. My internal clock was thrown off because of the lack of daylight. I didn’t know how many days had passed since my abduction, but I estimated it might have been as little as five days and as much as two weeks.
Running my hands through my hair roughly, I could feel tears run down my face. Crouched in a corner, I was going slowly insane. I prayed I didn’t forget who I was. I prayed that I remembered every detail of my life, but life before this cage was getting harder to remember.
After bringing me to this place, Callan pushed me into a chamber and locked the metal door, leaving me alone in my despair. However, I wasn’t exactly sure what this place was. It was carved into a mountain and contained many rooms like a fortress. It seems the Dökkálfar have carved out cities underneath the crust of the planet. Touching the walls, I could still feel the indentations of the masons’ tools.
As sweat trickled down my brow, I wiped my forehead, feeling extremely warm. Being beneath the ground, the heat seemed to emanate from the rock.
My eyes darted to the door as my ears unexpectedly caught the sound of something in the distance.
Footsteps.
Hurried, booted footsteps. The sound vibrated off the stone walls, getting louder as they drew closer.
Without warning, the cell door unlocked and I was blinded by the light.
“Get up,” a gruff voice ordered.
As my eyes adjusted to the sudden burst of light, I groped the walls, trying to support myself as I rose obediently to my feet. Standing erect, I was forcefully pulled out of the cell. Nearly falling over, a strong hand pushed me upward and balanced my stance. With my vision slowly returning, I tried to focus on the man who was standing before me. Although he was a blur, I could tell from the quality of his voice that he was not Callan. I speculated it was some sort of guard.
Just then, another figure entered the hall. I instantly recognized the woman. I should have since I thought she was my mother for the last seventeen years of my life. “Chloë―,” Rosalyn choked out, appearing relieved to see me. She was dressed in a white, flowing gown similar to the one I had worn in a dream, making her appear ethereal.
As I regained my vision, I was struck by how clean and rested she appeared to be which was a stark contrast to my own appearance. I hadn’t showered in days. My clothes were filthy. “Willow,” I corrected, conflicted over whether to embrace her or reject her completely. “My name is Willow.”
The guard jerked my arms forward and shackled my wrists in front of me, using magic to fuse the metal. The red light that was emitted from his touch felt like lava on my skin, burning me.
With a tear escaping my eye, I winced in pain.
“Callan has summoned you to the throne room,” Rosalyn told me anxiously.
“What is he going to do?” I asked, fearing the worst as the guard dragged me forward.
“Be gentle, Eberlein,” she ordered the guard.
He obliged but not willingly.
“He will not see me,” she told me, her tone strained. “Everyone in the palace has been summoned to the throne room, but Callan will not divulge what the meeting is for.”
I nodded, continuing to walk forward in the direction I was guided. “Will he set me free?” I asked her.
Rosalyn shook her head. “You are a bargaining chip,” she told me, speculating. “He may make some kind of trade with Nalin. He knows how important you are to him. Maybe, the war can be ended.”
As we approached two large, double doors, Rosalyn turned to me. “Keep your head up,” she ordered, petting my head as she always used to. “Show no fear... and I promise that this whole mess will be sorted out.”
I nodded, feeling her calming energies pass through me.
Without another word, the double doors were thrown open and we entered.
* * * * *
NALIN:
“What is the matter, Brother,” Daphne asked, entering the library where I sat in silence. Wearing the burgundy robes of a queen, she walked across the room, sitting beside me.
“Is this visit for business or is this sisterly concern?” I asked, feeling the need to be alone in my thoughts and instantly resenting her company.
“A little of both,” she said with a grin, liking my candor. “You have been moping for a week. Can you blame me for being a tad bit curious?”
Placing her hand on my shoulder, she bore into me with her eyes. “Are you going to speak to me or do I have to beat it out of you?” she asked, appearing more concerned as her eyes traced my hands. “Where is your ring? I don’t think I have seen you without it on since....”
“Since before Willow’s creation,” I finished. Brooding, I cupped my head in my hands, leaning forward in my seat. “It’s somewhere in my bedchamber.”
Daphne appeared relieved. “You’ve taken it off? So... you have finally come around to my way of seeing things and given up your search.”
Shifting uncomfortably in my seated position, I glared at her. “I found her,” I said curtly, sensing the cold void rise in my chest.
Daphne silenced herself, her pale features twisting in confusion. “She lives?” she asked me, her voice steady and quiet. “What does she know?”
“I told her everything,” I responded bluntly, knowing she wouldn’t approve of my actions.
“Where is she?” my sister asked, her body tensing in her seat.
“She left me,” I said, my voice strained with anger. “She saw me as I was. My true appearance. She ran away as I slept.”
My sister leaned forward, her eyes as gray as storm clouds. “Is she still in this world?” she asked, her voice as taut as her muscles. “Who has been hiding her?”
Trying to control the negative emotions which were about to erupt, I rose to my feet and began to pace. “She was never in this world.”
My sister rose to her feet, piercing me with her gaze. “What have you done, Nalin?” she demanded, incensed. “Answer me this instant! Did you open a portal?”
“You knew there was a possibility she was in another realm. I told you that much,” I told her defensively, my voice deep and menacing. “Did you ever doubt that I would search the nine realms for her?”
“I thought that you would have at least learned from your mistakes,” she told me flatly.
“Someone opened a doorway and took her from me,” I told her, seething. “It is against the universal order for an Elf to live in the world of humans. I was rectifying the situation.”
Daphne looked at me defiantly. “It is not your job to rectify the situation,” she told me, taking her seat once more. “It is mine, and I should have been notified.”
With my voice steeped in anger, I told her, “It was within my right to go.”
“You are breaking the laws of our kind,” she said gravely. “This type of magic can bring down severe punishment on your head.”
“What would you have done? Sent guards to recover her?” I demanded, motioning to her with my hands.
“Do you really want to know what I would have done?” she asked, her voice dangerously low as she cupped her hands on her lap.
Knowing that this conversation was approaching dangerous territory, I answered, “No, I don’t.”
She nodded, accepting my answer. “It is not a time for us to quarrel,” she said, regaining her calm demeanor. “Besides the topic of your temperament, I have come for a purpose.”
I scoffed. “I knew you would ask something of me.”
“This is not a request,” she said without humor. “We are to have honored guests at this evening’s dinner party, and you are to be in attendance.”
“Who are these honored guests of yours?”
She smiled. “Jasmine and her family, of course,” she told me, her silky voice masking her true objectives.
“Of course,” I said, mimicking her. Folding my arms on my chest, I said, “I will try, Sister. I have received word of a convoy of Dökkálfar roaming about in the woods. I am leading a small group to examine the situation.”
“This is not a request, Nalin. I am ordering you to attend,” she said, rising from her seat. “The search party will have to go without you. Do not disobey me on this.”
I leaned towards her, eying her rebelliously. “As I said, I will try.”
* * * * *
WILLOW:
I was pushed through the threshold by the guard which Rosalyn called Eberlein. The room was built like an underground cathedral with tall ceilings and decorative columns that supported the subterranean structure. Torches of orange fire lit the room in a warm glow.
Upon seeing me, the gasps of the crowd echoed through the room. Holding my head up high, I walked through the center of the cavernous space, parting the large crowd of dark-haired Elves. There were at least two hundred Elven men, women, and children. Many snickered as I walked passed them. Some grimaced and others had no reaction at all. I was despised amongst this race for what I was, but... mostly, I was hated because of who created me. I was apart of Nalin, Prince of the Ljósálfar, and their sworn enemy.
I momentarily bowed my head, thinking of him. Envisioning Nalin as I last saw him, I felt a tugging at my heart. Remembering him as he slept, I felt as if I had wronged him somehow. I left him, but he must know I had intended to return. Did he know I was in trouble? Did he care? Was he angered by the way I left? Had I burned bridges with him?
When I reached the front of the crowd, I was able to see Callan, sitting on his throne atop a wide staircase. He wore his usual battle armor and crown. He gazed down at me with a sober mixture of disdain and satisfaction. “Rosalyn,” he called out to my mother, remaining focused on me.
She glanced at me, casting a grim smile in my direction that was meant to be comforting. She ascended the stairs and took her place by her brother, standing regally beside his throne.
Eberlein pulled me towards the stairs, making me kneel at the base.
Dread seeped into my being as I looked up at Callan insolently. I refused to display my fear. Uncertain of the fate that awaited me, I swore that no matter the outcome that I wouldn’t allow Callan to see me cry. I wouldn’t give him the pleasure.
“My fellow Dökkálfar, a war has been ongoing for nearly a hundred years,” Callan began, his voice booming above the hush of the crowd. “A battle which has caused the untimely death of many of our kin. Our blood was spilled needlessly. This war that we have fought so courageously has been based upon a lie.”
A low murmur filled room as the Elves took in Callan’s words.
“I have summoned every Elf in the castle with the intention of setting things right once more,” he said. “They accused us of murder while they defiled the Earth and broke the laws of nature before our eyes.” Callan motioned towards me. “The proof of our innocence is here, kneeling before us. This thing is also proof of the violation of natural law.”
Although I was shaking on the inside, I remained indifferent on the outside, trying my best to mask my emotions. I focused on Rosalyn. She stood as still as a statue, seeming apathetic to the words of her brother. But I knew better. I knew that she was just as nervous as I was on the inside.
“I, Callan, King of the Dökkálfar, brought you here for one purpose,” he said, sneering at me. “My loyal constituents, the time has come to avenge the blood which has been spilled in battle.”
The roar of the crowd vibrated throughout the room. They were out for blood, and I felt their looks of malice upon me. I closed my eyes and tried to envision the only face that could bring me comfort at this time... Nalin’s. Though his presence in my life had been short, I had felt more comfortable with him in those few moments than in all the years prior. Lost in thought, I momentarily felt as if I had been plunged into a bath of ice water as fear passed through me in waves with the notion that I may never see Nalin again. I shivered.
“Here is Willow, creation of Nalin, and abomination of the Elven race,” Callan announced, bringing me out of my thoughts. “She was created using the darkest forms of magic for one Elf’s amusement. Nalin laughs at our ways. He spits on the natural order which we must all uphold. He has killed many of our kind single-handedly and most savagely. Now, it is time for us to deprive him of that which he holds most dear.”
Feeling my aching kn
ees about to give out on me, I glared up at Callan. My body tensed, fearing his next words.
“Willow, creation of Nalin, I sentence you to be put to death,” he announced finally, his voice firm.
I let out an audible gasp, feeling as if I were about to faint. My hands shot to my face as tears erupted from my eyes.
Rosalyn’s mouth dropped open, and she tried to reason with Callan under the hollers of the crowd. “You cannot stop bloodshed with more bloodshed, Callan. We should use this opportunity to make a gesture of peace that Nalin will accept.”
“Nalin is not the king,” Callan said sternly.
“But he can sway his sister,” my mother retorted.
“Have you forgotten who drew first blood? Nalin is a cold blooded murderer. He cannot be reasoned with. I will not show him mercy.”
Fearfully, Rosalyn begged, “Listen to me―”
Callan held up a hand, silencing his sister and the crowd without delay. “As per the laws of our kind, the sentence is death by stoning,” he said heartlessly, seeming to have received some sort of twisted satisfaction from my misery. Then he looked at Eberlein and ordered, “Take her away.”
“Wait!” Rosalyn cried, outraged. “You did not let her speak.”
“She doesn’t deserve to,” he retorted as Eberlein lifted me to my feet abruptly.
“It is not for you to decide. How can you say you are upholding our laws and not adhere to our policies,” Rosalyn argued, unashamed to do so in front of their constituents. “She must be allowed to speak.”
Callan glared at his sister. “She has wronged the kingdom, Rosalyn. Open your eyes. This war was her doing!”
“She was but an infant when the war erupted,” Rosalyn retorted. “The war was not her doing.”
“No more, Rosalyn,” Callan warned, ready to silence her at whatever cost.
I watched as the woman I regarded as my mother stepped forward and announced, “As per the laws of our kind, every Elfling must visit the oracle at the age of transition. Willow is at such an age. We cannot serve out this sentence and consciously violate our most sacred law. Before Willow’s sentence is carried out, she must see the oracle to discover the meaning of her existence.”
Weeping Willow (Part Two) Page 1
