Serpent in the Mist

by Cleave Bourbon

  Seandara took the initiative and reached out her hand to Devyn. Instinctively he reached out to her in return. “This is how,” Seandara said as she touched Devyn’s fingertips with hers.

  Devyn felt a rush of emotion pulse through him. A blinding white light issued forth from the touched fingertips. Images flooded his mind of the dream he had of Seandara, and something more. Images of him fighting Morgoran with essence and striking him down, followed by an image of hundreds of dragons flying directly toward him, black dragons calling to him. He also saw the image of a man dressed in all black sitting on a throne of gold. He pulled away from Seandara and the images stopped.

  Morgoran gasped. “I have not seen this since before the War of the Oracle.”

  “What is it, Morgoran?” Devyn asked.

  Sildariel answered, “You are Solicanths, two sides of one. Somewhere in the past, our families have touched. Historically every pair of Solicanths ever known to stay together has caused great destruction and death. The best course of action is to separate you.”

  “What?” Devyn was confused.

  “Solicanths and destruction are a bit of an extreme, Your Grace,” Morgoran said. “In the old days, I knew a few Solicanths that lived in harmony.”

  “True, perfect balance is achieved through careful training. Seandara might be able to handle the training and discipline needed to achieve balance, but let me be honest. This boy is a mess.”

  Devyn was glad to see that Morgoran seemed to take offense. “Your Grace, this boy is under my tutelage. I will do whatever is necessary to train him.”

  Sildariel put her hand on Morgoran’s shoulder. “Being a Solicanth is but a small fragment of his illness. Something else dwells within him, and I fear only a trip to Rugania will help him.”

  “If it isn’t essence sickness and it isn’t the Solicanth curse, then what else could it be, Your Grace?” Morgoran almost sounded sarcastic.

  Sildariel stared at Morgoran for a long while, and Devyn thought she might be contemplating how best to throw him out of Endil. “I do suspect the boy has a form of essence sickness—he has most of the symptoms—and it’s also true that he lacks discipline to endure being a Solicanth, but there is something else, something more.”

  “Oh? Do tell.”

  She spoke softly. “His mind is on the brink of madness. I can see him becoming a great man or a terrible enemy, and both visions have equal possibility. I am sorry, Morgoran.” Her tone changed from soft to stern. “I will supply you with horses from our private stables. You have to get him to Rugania. I have several contacts in Ormond’s Arch, and they will return our horses to us. I can also send a request with you for the passage on the old ferry. The ferry master will not take anyone out to the island without a good reason.”

  “I am certain he will remember me,” Morgoran said. “But still, it couldn’t hurt for you to send word. I assume Ianthill’s family still resides there?”

  “Aye, Erinthill and Brynna still keep the grounds of the old citadel, with a little help from others, of course.”

  “Good, I would like to see Ianthill’s sister and niece. It has been far too long.”

  “Can’t we use the Lora Daine to get there?” Devyn asked.

  “No, the Lora Daine will not work in Rugania. In fact, I hope I remember the spell to prepare you to enter the island.”

  “Why do you have to be prepared?” Devyn asked.

  “Rugania is also called the Isle of Doom, because if you are not prepared properly, the enchantments of the island will kill you instantly when you set foot on its soil. It’s a defensive measure that became necessary prior to the War of the Oracle. Some unsavory folk saw it fit to try to assassinate wielders in those days. No one bothered to remove the enchantments after the war. Come to think of it, I am not entirely certain the enchantments should ever be removed; they fulfill a purpose.”

  A knock at the wooden door interrupted the conversation. A servant entered. “Forgive my intrusion, Your Grace, but we have more guests arriving.”

  Sildariel gave Morgoran an inquisitive gaze. He nodded, “Aye, I was expecting more quests, “He said. “I assume the king has sent on the rest of our party, two dragon knights.”

  Sildariel nodded her head at the servant, and he showed in Kelle, Bren, and a woman dressed in white. Sildariel immediately stood, prompting the rest to also stand.

  The woman in white bowed to Sildariel, and Kelle and Bren followed suit. “Your Grace,” the woman in white said with a wonderful, musical voice.

  “My lady,” Sildariel said in return.

  Devyn suddenly felt uncomfortable being in the same room with Kelle and Seandara at the same time. He worried that Kelle might catch wind that this was the girl he had been dreaming about—the same girl that had made her so jealous on more than one occasion. Morgoran began talking to Sildariel about arrangements to travel to Ormond’s Arch, and Devyn tuned him out. Trying to avoid her direct gaze, he looked at Kelle and was caught by surprise by the magnificence of her new white armor. His eyes lingered too long, and Kelle met his gaze with a wide smile. She cut her eyes twice to the woman in white next to her, so Devyn scrutinized what she was trying to draw his attention to. Kelle then pointed to her armor. Comprehension came to Devyn in a flash. “She’s a dragon!” Devyn blurted out.

  Morgoran stopped talking to Sildariel and focused on Devyn. “What are you doing? You are in polite company.”

  Devyn was horrified. He awkwardly bowed his head and lurched forward toward Shadesilver. “Forgive me, mistress,” he spluttered. She stepped back. Horrified for a second time, he tried to grab for Shadesilver’s hand, and she yanked it back, obviously unsure of what he was trying to do. Devyn could see the frightened expression on her face, and for a reason he could not explain, it angered him. Kelle, with sympathy, tried to step in. He looked at her and at Bren, who was shaking his head. “That is Seandara over there.” He pointed to the elf maiden. “The one I dream about.” In his mind, he was trying to take advantage of the situation and change the subject. Seandara bolted from the room, clearly embarrassed by the dismayed expression on Kelle’s face. “You have frightened her away with your mean-spirited gaze!” Devyn felt himself fall backward as Kelle pushed him away from her. Bren grabbed Kelle by the arms and held her back. A strange sense of relief washed over Devyn as he fell. There was pain coming from the back of his head briefly before the darkness.

  “THAT SHOULD DO IT FOR now,” Devyn heard Sildariel say. “He should be coming around soon.” She cleared her throat as if what she was about to say was difficult. “I must apologize, Morgoran. I should not have been so dismissive before. I knew he was ill, but I never expected it to surface like that.”

  “Don’t regret trying to protect your people and your daughter, Your Grace, I am thankful you have placed your healing hands on him.”

  Devyn opened his eyes. “I am cured then?”

  “There he is,” Morgoran said. “No, son, not cured, but in much better shape than before. Queen Sildariel has used her healing magic on you to help you cope long enough for us to get you to Rugania.”

  “Thank you.” Devyn addressed the queen. She graciously nodded her acknowledgment.

  “There should be no more outbursts or arrogant, misguided banter from you for the duration,” Morgoran said as he put a reassuring hand on Devyn’s forehead.

  “What about Kelle? Is she all right?” Devyn asked.

  Morgoran took a breath. “She understands that you were not yourself, but it is difficult for her to handle seeing you like this. I thought it best that I send Kelle, Bren, and Shadesilver on ahead to Ormond’s Arch. That way, Queen Sildariel’s healing would have time to work and you could see her with a clearer head.”

  “You will be more like yourself,” Sildariel interjected.

  “I would like that,” Devyn said.

  “We should let him get some rest now, Morgoran,” Sildariel said.

  “Aye, you are safe here in these quarters the queen has p
repared for you. Rest up and do not venture out.”

  “I won’t,” Devyn reassured him.

  Morgoran and Sildariel exited the small room, and as the door closed behind them, he could see the guards posted. The back of his head throbbed a little, and he reached up to rub it. It was bandaged. I must have hit the floor pretty hard, he thought. He closed his eyes and was about to fall asleep when the door opened. He expected Kelle to walk in, but instead it was Seandara. Her hair was down now around her shoulders. She glowed with an ethereal radiance. The informal green dress she wore hugged her feminine form. Devyn tried to sit up in her presence.

  “No, no, don’t move.” She put her hands flat out in a motion for him to lie still. “You have hit your head against the hard wooden floors.”

  “Princess, I am sorry for before. I was not myself.”

  “Obviously not. I am aware.”

  “What are you here for? Does Morgoran and your mother know you are here?”

  “As I said, you hit your head. I am here to keep an eye on you. People who hit their heads cannot be left alone.”

  “Oh, and your mother sent you to watch over me?”

  Seandara blushed. “Not exactly. She sent my cousin Jindara. I asked her if I could take her place for a little while.”

  “Why?”

  “I wanted to talk with you in private. I have been dreaming of you for so long, and here you are now in person.”

  “I know what you mean. It’s like I have known you all my life.”

  “We have.” She looked down with nervous apprehension. “I mean, in a way we have.” She sat down on the edge of his bed.

  “We can at least talk about the dreams now and figure out what we must do.”

  She nodded.

  “I have always wondered if what I dreamed about would come true.”

  “Me too. I mean, I have wondered too.”

  “When I was holding your hand and you were slipping from my grasp, I—”

  Seandara lunged forward and pressed her lips hard against his. White light blinded him and his head started throbbing again. He felt a tremor like the shock he sometimes got in the winter when he pulled his woolen blankets apart. Seandara slowly retracted from him, her eyes still closed. After a moment, she opened them. “It was just like the dream.”

  “What? That was your dream?” Devyn asked.

  She blushed. “It wasn’t yours too?”

  “No, I think I like yours better though.”

  “Oh, no!” She stood immediately up from his bed. “Oh, no, I shouldn’t have come.”

  “No, wait. It was the knock on my head. Yes, now I remember. I did dream about a kiss,” he lied. “Come back. I will tell you the rest of my dream.”

  Seandara eyed him suspiciously. “Are you certain?”

  “Aye, come back.”

  Seandara sat back on the edge of his bed. “Tell me more.”

  “My dream was also of you falling out of the trees and Dramyds or some other creatures pulling you down through the branches. You slipped from my fingers, and I couldn’t save you.”

  “What? How dreadful.”

  “You didn’t dream about that too?”

  “No, nothing like that. My dream was about us in harmony.” She swallowed hard. “We get married in my dream.”

  “Hmm, really.”

  “Wait a moment,” Seandara stood up again, “you never dreamed of a kiss. You are tricking me.”

  “We kissed before you fell. Come on, sit back down.” He patted the edge of the bed.

  She sat back down and put her hand on his forehead.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Are you still ill?”

  “I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

  “I am not some silly girl.”

  “No, of course not.” He reached up and pulled her head down to kiss her. It was the only way he could think of to abate her suspicion. White light flashed and the same shock tingled through his body. About halfway through the kiss, he realized that he was not feeling guilty for kissing Seandara. “I know what you mean,” he said as soon as the kiss ended.

  She gazed into his eyes. “What?”

  “It does feel like I have known you all my life.”

  Chapter 14: Winterhaven

  Bren helped Kelle off her horse, and the stableman took the white mare away. Kelle dusted herself off and surveyed her surroundings. Busy people, some of them elves, rushed about, making preparations for the festival of Winterhaven. The festival was also celebrated in Brookhaven, so some of the decorations Kelle recognized, but these villagers took them much more seriously. Garlands and autumn flowers were everywhere. Pumpkins, gourds, nuts, and autumn berries adorned every shop and booth, along with various other foods. “They certainly take Winterhaven seriously here, don’t they?” Kelle observed.

  Shadesilver nodded. “The people of Ormond’s Arch claim to have invented the holiday. They prepare for the Winterhaven celebration as soon as the last harvest day ends in late autumn before the chill of winter. The holiday signifies a bountiful harvest, which ensures the safety or haven of the people through winter. If the harvest is slim, the celebrations change into the form of prayers for an abundance of game or fish.”

  “Is it true? Did they invent the holiday?” Kelle asked.

  “No one knows for sure. Winterhaven is celebrated on a monumental scale here due to the fact that the village is incredibly prosperous, being nestled between the great forest, which provides abundant game, and the ocean, where fishermen thrive. The surrounding farmland is also rich and vibrant due to the abundant rains and the rich soil that the people of the village take great care of with the help of their closest neighbors, the Sylvan Elves of Endil. Let’s just say that the peoples of Ormond’s Arch never go without.

  Kelle turned her attention to Bren. “Look at this place, Bren. It is wonderful here, isn’t it?”

  Bren raised his eyebrows. “Aye, it is. It is nice to see a place where no one goes hungry.”

  “We should go to one of the inns. The closer we get to the holiday, the more expensive and difficult it will be to find accommodations here. We should also reserve rooms for the others,” Shadesilver pointed out.

  “That sounds expensive,” Kelle said.

  Shadesilver smiled. “I think you are forgetting who and what I am, First of Amadalea.”

  Kelle blushed. “I thought that was just a myth. You mean your kind does hoard treasure?”

  “Like the pirates of the seas!” she joked as she pointed to a sign swinging over the inn called The Pirate’s Stash.

  GONDRIAL’S VISION BEGAN to blur, and the pain in his gut throbbed with unbearable spasms of pain. Through trial and error, he managed to wiggle out from under the corpse of the thief. He could vaguely hear people talking in the distance as they passed the open alleyway, oblivious to his plight, but he was too weak to call out to them. He did try to bang his dagger against the stone wall of the alley to alert anyone to his presence, but again, he was too weak, and what little sound he produced faded into the background with the rest of the noises of Seabrey.

  “Don’t move around so much,” a familiar voice rang in Gondrial’s ears. He was not sure if it was real or if he was imagining it through the pain.

  He managed a feeble, gasping breath. “Who’s there?”

  “I can heal you enough to get you back, and then once you are in your bed, I can heal you completely. I still remember the old magic.”

  “I know your voice,” Gondrial said.

  “Aye, of course. Stop trying to speak. I will take good care of you.”

  Gondrial blinked through the pain as the mysterious helper began to tug at his clothes, trying to get a look at his benefactor. After a moment, he could make out the small hands and the sharp features of a small-statured person.

  “A Kylerie?”

  “The only one you know, Gondrial.”

  “Kyrie? Kyrie, is that you? How?”

  “Sssh! I told you not
to speak. You are so very weak, and I will not be able to carry you to safety. I must heal the wound with fire and magic.”

  “Fire!” Gondrial said, alarmed, followed by a coughing fit.

  “Aye, I have to burn the wound closed at some point.” Kyrie frowned. “You know what? I think it might be better if you sleep.” He promptly struck Gondrial on the head with the hilt of his dagger.

  “Stop it, you fool,” Gondrial gasped. “If you can’t carry me awake, you can’t carry me when I’m asleep either.”

  “Good point.” Kyrie rummaged through his pack and brought out a bit of leather strap and some clear liquid. “Here, bite down on this leather strap.” He poured some of the clear liquid onto his dagger blade while Gondrial bit down on the leather. Kyrie said some incantation over the blade.

  “Ack, this leather tastes like you have been—” He bit down before he could finish his thought because Kyrie had used the dagger on his wound. The searing pain was almost unbearable. Gondrial felt the brief breeze-like feeling that essence was being manipulated, and Kyrie’s dagger blade burst into a hot, white flame, which he promptly held to Gondrial’s wound. Gondrial felt searing pain followed by the sickly smell of burning flesh.

  “There we go; that should hold it until I have time to heal it permanently.”

  Kyrie held up the clear liquid. “Here, drink some of this.” Gondrial shied away. “It’s just Kylerie firewater.”

  “What the heck is Kylerie firewater? It sounds painful!”

  “Not as painful as a knife wound.” Kyrie sighed. “Don’t worry, it’s intoxicating spirits made from fermented fruits. Drink!”

  Gondrial took a sip, and the liquid burned his throat. He coughed at first but managed to take a second sip. “Good gods, that was painful, and it tastes nothing like fruit!”

  Kyrie put away the spirits. “All right, let’s see about getting you to Shey and the others.”

  Gondrial looked at the Kylerie elf with trepidation. He was barely over three feet tall. “Oh, and how are you going to do that?”

  “What, get you to the inn? I assume you are staying at an inn, right?”