The Missing

by Jeremy Forsyth

  “I trust you have your written report, then?”

  Eldrian had been carrying the report since arriving in the palace. He now, without delay, handed it to Filian.

  “I had addressed it out to the Lady of the Moon. I had expected her to be the one to receive it.”

  The Elder took a moment to consider him then said very suddenly, “That will be all… Blademaster.”

  Wasting no time, Eldrian bowed his head and turned for the door and on the other side, he let out a heavy sigh, stared up at the portrait of Tarran and said with suppressed bitterness, “Would that you had received me instead.”

  Eldrian found his Bladewatcher leaning against the stone railing that surrounded the courtyard of the Portal of Blydran. He straightened when seeing his Blademaster, shot him with a mocking smile and said,

  “Back already?”

  Eldrian ignored him once more, crossed the encircling corridors and passed through the door on the other side, entering the Garden Foyer. Turning back to Ulumious, he commanded him to find his brother.

  “Your brother could be anywhere,” he complained.

  “Then find Gaulan. If you find the Giant, you’ll find Trone.”

  With his Bladewatcher’s leave, Eldrian’s stride brought him to the centre of the Foyer where he looked at the outside garden through the glass doors. He saw a pathway of pebbles that divided the garden in two, leading past a fountain to continue towards a broad tree that stood at the garden’s edge. Beyond, Eldrian could glimpse the shimmering waters of the Tentacle Sea. It was from that sea that his brother had returned, along with the Elder and all the others who had gone to the Human Lands of Norrhan.

  A few elvesses entered the foyer from the garden, bringing with them the alluring smell of nature’s pleasing aromas. He acknowledged them with a nod but nothing else, desiring to indulge in his contemplation. But when the door through which his bladewatcher had left opened again, Eldrian was expectant to see his brother. Instead, he noticed the form of an elvess walking cautiously toward him, as if entering the den of a predator – an elvess Eldrian had not thought to see.

  Slowly, Eldrian turned, his eyes widening subtly whilst his mind groped for an opening statement. The elvess stood before him with head bowed, clutching a silver jug to her breast as if it were a shield.

  “Blademaster,” her voice was soft and delicate, as delicate as her slender frame.

  “Sylanta?” asked Eldrian – his voice hushed in an unbelieving whisper. “It is good to see you… you look… blessed.”

  Sylanta Moonfell indeed looked blessed. Her long thick auburn hair shone and her yellow eyes were as vivid and perceptive as he last recalled. They were adorned as always by dark lashes that had remarkable sweep.

  An elf who lived beneath Alepion’s forests had pallor that Sylanta did not – hers was a darker complexion from continuous exposure to the sun, giving additional vibrancy to the pale green dress she appropriately wore in light of Alepion’s warm climate.

  “When did you arrive?” he asked her.

  “I passed through the Portals of Blydran a few weeks ago.”

  “Will you be staying permanently?” he asked curiously, not quite sure what answer he preferred, considering that court was uncomfortable enough without another laying additional blame at his feet. But in the same breath, it was Eldrian’s deepest wish to achieve a genuine reconciliation with this elvess.

  “It seems so, yes.”

  Eldrian smiled. “The palace has always been your place.” Yours, before it was mine.

  Seeming to have grown extremely uncomfortable from that statement, Sylanta replied softer now, almost under her breath,

  “Not always.”

  A brief interval of silence ensued before Eldrian found an enquiry to ask. “Have you seen the Elder since his return from Norrhan?”

  The elvess shook her head. “The Elder has yet to request my presence; it seems that much requires his attention since returning home.”

  Eldrian frowned. “And Salune?” he asked.

  “The Lady of the Moon has been very welcoming. She received me at the Portal of Blydran when I arrived.”

  Eldrian was glad of that at least. He made a mental note to ask his brother what could make Tarranice so preoccupied that he could not see Sylanta. Before Eldrian could respond, the door behind the elvess opened again.

  “Be blessed, Blademaster,” Sylanta said, quickly darting off towards the garden.

  Eldrian regretfully watched her disappear behind the fountain; feeling unsettled and disappointed with their reunion. Frustrated, Eldrian looked from her to the elf walking towards him, the door in the background held open by Ulumious Clearsong.

  Purposeful strides, upright posture, fixed expression – - Eldrian’s brother was just as he had left him.

  Trone Fairleaf’s light brown hair fell in tumbles down to his shoulders, his equally light brown beard reaching below his sternum. His black leather boots were knee high, his breeches black while his shirt was a rich brown with long sleeves fastened tightly around his wrists.

  “Brother,” said Trone, his voice moderate yet no less pleased. After the two embraced, Trone made a quick study of his brother. “I take it your time in Flingwood Forest went well? I did hear that Salune issued the last stage of the Seasoning to be held beneath its trees.”

  “Since the Elder’s leave from Alepion, outlaw activity within had grown rapidly,” Eldrian informed his eldest brother. “The Lady of the Moon felt it necessary to have a blademaster within the vicinity.”

  “And what fruit did that decision bear?”

  “Two whole months of peace.”

  Trone nodded slowly, “And what of the new sentinels?”

  “Promising. Some just need experience whilst others need another Seasoning.”

  Amused, Trone asked, “Have you given your report to the Elder?”

  “I have. Admittedly, I was not expecting to. Your stay among the Humans appears to have been short-lived,” the inflection of Eldrian’s voice eroded to a more concerned modulation, one that caused his brother’s face to grow solemn, his own tone grave.

  “You miss very little, little brother.” Trone indicated towards the garden, gestured for Eldrian to lead the way before adding, “I see you have already met with Sylanta.”

  At the mention of her name, Eldrian quickly scanned the garden and was thankful when he saw no sign of the elvess.

  “Yes. She found me in the Foyer whilst I waited for you. She has yet to forgive,” he added grimly.

  “Perhaps that is why she has finally returned to Lowvilla?” his brother suggested. “Perhaps she seeks to face her grief and finally be free of it?”

  “I would have assumed time had dealt with it already. Near a century has passed since last she was here.”

  “You’ve heard what the small folk say.”

  The grief of an elvess is Adonai’s only toil.

  The two of them came to the edge of the garden, took refuge beneath the tree’s boughs and looked down upon Gladen Forest and the preceding beach that gave way to the glistening waters of Sunlight Bay.

  “Tell me true, brother. What happened in Norrhan?”

  Trone sighed, wearily, “The Heiko.”

  Eldrian frowned, looked at him, “The Emperor’s heir?”

  “The Emperor’s disgrace.”

  “I take it the son does not follow the father?”

  “It seems that he does.” Trone regarded Eldrian, informing him regretfully, “His people love him.”

  “Then why speak of the Heiko as if he were a Stranger?”

  “Because he is a Stranger.” Trone turned towards the sea. “The Heiko brought great dishonour to our people; to Tarranice… to Alanda.” A shadow crossed over Eldrian’s expression. “What happened?”

  His heart was already pounding from ideas spilling into his mind, scenarios he wasn’t quite sure he wished to hear come out his brother’s mouth. Alanda was Tarranice’s heir, the future Lady of the Moon and some
one who Eldrian cared deeply for.

  “He invited the Crowned Daughter of Alepion for a midnight stroll one evening. Alanda accepted, revealing her folly. During their conversing, the Heiko, he… he kissed her – before the two were interrupted by me and the Elder.”

  “You saw this?’’ asked Eldrian, incredulous.

  “As did the Giant. As did Napolla – as did Tarranice himself. The Heiko’s infatuation with Alanda became apparent within days of our arrival. Tarranice had her watched and her movements reported.”

  “And Alanda?” asked Eldrian, thinking that Tarranice was a fool to have brought his daughter to the shores of Norrhan, to dwell among such a people!

  Trone looked concerned before saying, “The Crowned Daughter has hardened herself. She offers no excuse.”

  That surprised Eldrian, which his brother noticed as if he expected it would show on his face. He said now with indifference, “The love she bore you, brother, could not have lasted forever so long as you continued to show your disinterest.”

  Eldrian looked out across the sky, thinking; How could you be so foolish, Alanda? He was feeling the need to see her now.

  “And what of the Elder?” he asked Trone, reminded of Tarranice’s demeanour towards him earlier.

  Does he blame me for this?

  “We left the Human capital that very evening; Tarranice in a blind fury. The Heiko threatened war if we denied him Alanda. Our Elder has been in a state of wrath ever since; neglecting all matters of state that require his attention. He sends mindfinder after mindfinder to the Highborns of Kaan Fulas, disclosing the situation and warning them of the threat of war. But while Tarranice desires a severed alliance with the humans, Filian and Wanda advise differently.”

  Eldrian flinched. “I will not believe Wanda would stand in favour of a Human alliance, not after what has been done. Should we fear them, brother?” he asked Trone fiercely.

  Trone looked at him, clearly uneasy. “None, including Wanda, want the treaty renewed. Yet much has happened whilst you were training the new sentinels…”

  “Such as?”

  “Rhuce Longwind claims to have had another vision; a dream in which he says power left him.”

  “Tell me.”

  “He saw a hooded figure in the presence of the Heiko. The Heiko was seated on his throne. Rhuce claims the figure was a Sand Elf and believes the Sand Elf was paying homage, suggesting a Sand and Human alliance.”

  Eldrian’s eyes narrowed. “The High Temple Leader has been wrong before. But should he be right, Adonai protects us! And if the Sand Elves do seek an alliance with the Humans, we would still do well not to fear them. Even without our own alliances, we would throw the Norrhans back into the sea.”

  Trone looked at him. “It is not a matter of fear, brother; none fear whilst Adonai is for us. It is a matter of preventing a war where many die despite our inevitable victory. The Right and Left Hand advise that we have the treaty signed to prevent any form of conflict.”

  Up Next

  The Raven Heiress