by C D Beaudin
Aradon recognizes the brown hair, and blue eyes. Joshua. “You are.”
“Then what are you trying to say?”
Aradon’s eyes narrow. “Why kill the villain when you can unleash the monster?”
Hillstone. A great landmark and historical monument of the Old Country, when the Five Kingdoms were unified into one great nation. The Hall of Peace. It was used as a meeting place of monarchs and generals, so talks could be monitored in a controlled area, not a palace or field. Now, it’s an ancient building that no one enters because the people of Nomarah believe that those who enter Hillstone will be led into massacre.
The stories are right. But massacre, in this case, is war.
Traveling with a half-score of soldiers, General Borez and Babinoux, his sister and Ethiah, it’s a large group. Eldowyn looks back at Adriel, who rides silently, eyes blankly ahead, pale skin the color of the snow beneath them. She’ll never recover from Saine’s betrayal. Eldowyn’s eyes fall from the endless Nomarian plains. He’s lost all his siblings.
A flash of silver eyes.
He’s lost more than just his siblings. He just doesn’t know what. Or who. But those silver eyes…he remembers, and yet he doesn’t know what he remembers about them. He knows them but knows nothing of them. Who do they belong to? Is it a human? An animal? Perhaps an elf or dwarf? He doesn’t even know if they’re male or female. The images are so quick and so cold, he has to look away.
But he still sees them. When he closes his eyes, the silver fire is there. The cold burning of whatever passion they held. It’s since died. He can’t see but he knows it has. It’s a distant, ancient fire that is vulnerable and broken. Brave. Changing. Defiant.
Then he hears a laugh in his mind. He gasps, startled. It’s only ever been silver eyes. But now, whoever those eyes belong to is showing him more. She’s female, he can tell. She’s wary of laughing, reserved, the way the laugh’s strength broke a few times into unknowing waves of caution. And while it was choppy underneath the rough sea, it ran smooth as a stream in the springtime. He finds himself loving her laugh, and he realizes that he must have loved it even more when he knew this person.
He looks back at Adriel, wondering if she’s inside his head. He hasn’t been putting up his defenses against mind reading, he just hasn’t cared. If someone is so desperate and cares so much about something that they’d irreversibly violate his privacy and his mind, then he won’t stop them. But even as he watches her, he knows that isn’t the case. Her face has become tear-streaked since last he looked at her, eyes and cheeks red when they should be frozen white from the cold. Curse him. He should be focusing on the family he has instead of whoever it is he lost.
“Who is she?”
He looks back at Adriel. “You were listening?”
“I can do more than one thing at a time.” She wipes the tears from her cheeks. Her voice is raspy from crying. “So, who is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is it strange because I believe I know her too?”
His brow furrows. “You do?”
“So, it is strange, then?”
He doesn’t know what to say to that. Looking forward, he changes the subject. “How are you?”
“Dandy.”
“Sarcasm’s never suited you, Adriel.”
“Then should I wallow in my sorrow?”
He looks back at her. “No. You should punch his face in next time you see him.”
She smiles. He loves it when she smiles. He hasn’t always had the best relationship with Adriel. Granted, it isn’t the best now either. But they’ve made progress. And if he can make her smile, then it’s a good day. Especially now. He’s given up on Awyn. He’s lost Kepp. He thought he had lost Adriel too. But maybe they’ll make it through together?
“That sounds satisfying.” Adriel’s violet eyes once again have color, and the dullness drains away, but the spark is still absent. “Do you think when this war is over… I mean if we even survive…” She bites her lip, thinking. “Do you think we’ll get to live again?”
At one time, Eldowyn wouldn’t have known what she meant by it. But now, when his main thought is surviving and his body’s reaction to danger is to run…he knows.
“If Mortal lives on, then we’ll live on with it.”
She smiles slightly, the gesture not reaching her eyes, barely reaching her lips. “I hope so. It’s a curse, in a way.”
“What is?”
“Being an elf. We linger for all the demons, the villains, and the monsters to arise out of the shadows, just when they’re defeated. If we survive this war, you and I will see the next evil rise, and the next destruction of our world. And if we survive that…the cycle just continues. Immortality isn’t a blessing, little brother. It’s a bane.”
Eldowyn looks away from her, eyes on the horizon once again. He can’t imagine that. Living only to find a new monster to kill. He’s fought battles in his time, faced impossible odds and more, but he hasn’t faced an evil so great.
Maybe he doesn’t want to survive this war?
“Eldowyn. Look.”
At Adriel’s suggestion, he sharpens his vision, eyes studying the plains and sees Hillstone, horses already gathered. Green and gold flags. Rohidia. Red flags with a black lion in the center, standing on its hind legs. Hadore. But then he sees the flag of the Kawa, a colorful mandala against a pale-yellow background. Why are they here? He looks back at Adriel, concerned, but she just shrugs, the same unsure crease between her brows.
When they reach Hillstone, and Eldowyn’s feet hit the ground, he instantly knows that the massacre that follows may not be because of war. Something’s going to go wrong. Guards are posted outside the large building, wearing different uniforms from different nations. Sunlight makes the stained glass windows glow, each telling a different part of Ardon’s history.
Taking a breath, Eldowyn looks toward the door, and enters the Hall of Peace.
Hillstone is a giant circular building, the flat-hill landscape beneath it perfect for building, so there are many rooms for guests. The room he enters now is large and round like the base, with a curved table for them to sit at as equals.
Right away, his eyes catch Neodyn, King of Hadore, and Brega, Queen of Rohidia. They aren’t dressed as royals, but as soldiers, in garments prepared for fighting. But they still wear their casual crown-bands around their brows, Brega adorned in gold bracelets. Their generals keep to themselves, not talking with others until the time comes. And then Eldowyn realizes… This is all that is left of the Five Kingdoms.
Brega and Neodyn look in his direction just as Kera and her brother of the Kawa enter the room from a separate door, one leading into a hallway.
Kera’s eyes narrow. “You should not be here, elves. This matter is for man.”
“We all live in Mortal, Kera. And I, along with my sister are what’s left of the Meran monarchy.”
Neodyn’s eyes widen, but Brega speaks. “Awyn is dead?”
“Her mind is,” Adriel says coldly and bitterly, a reserve Eldowyn knows from his childhood, when the hate he felt toward her was mutual.
“But if her body lives on, then why isn’t she here?” Brega demands. “Where is my cousin?”
“Our sister is locked in her room by her own volition. It’s what’s best for her.”
Brega looks appalled, and Eldowyn knows the bloodbath has started.
“Adriel, let’s just go to our rooms.” He looks at the stunned royals. “We will continue this in an hour.”
“Agreed.” Brega’s tone is icier than Adriel’s.
“No.”
They look at Kera. “Why?” Brega questions.
“Because I have an asset that I sent on a mission a few days ago while we were on our way here. We will wait for him.”
Eldowyn’s eyes narrow. “That didn’t answer her question.”
Kera’s chin lifts. “The asset is bringing us one of the deadliest armies Mortal has ever nursed.”
Eth
iah’s eyes brighten, but Adriel’s grow concerned. “You can’t mean—”
“Yes, Lady Adriel. He’s bringing us the Red Warriors.”
“No. You can’t do that. They’re murderers.”
“You didn’t care they were murderers when you brought one among my people.”
Eldowyn’s jaw tightens. “You hold a grudge like an Etheren!”
“Don’t insult me,” Kera spits.
“Aradon is my friend, don’t insult him.”
“So you send your friends to the dungeon? Well I have news for you. Aradon isn’t there anymore.”
“Don’t you think we know that?” Eldowyn grinds out.
“I had a feeling. But what you don’t know is who took him.”
“We have our suspicions.”
Eldowyn looks back as Adriel speaks, tone steady. “The Plainsman took him. We just don’t know why or where.”
“Because Saine’s a Red Warrior, and he brought Aradon back to their village.”
Adriel’s eyes widen, and Eldowyn puts a hand on her back, steadying her. “You lie.”
“What other reason is there?”
“Aradon killed Saine’s father.”
“Exactly.” Kera shrugs. “But we won’t have to wonder for too much longer. If my plan works—and I’ve seen that it has—then Aradon, the Plainsman, and the new Master will be barging through that doorstep before the moon fully emerges.”
Eldowyn shakes his head. “What have you done? Aradon’s unstable, he could kill everyone.”
“I have seen things. The elder has seen things. The Kawa are known for wisdom and foresight. We have spies, but we also have a connection to the Spirits that lets us see parts of certain futures. We have seen this one. We know the danger. Don’t accuse us of not caring for your lives.”
Adriel scoffs. “We won’t apologize, you haven’t cared in the past.”
Kera’s familiar snarl is back. “And you know this because of your gift?”
“I can see the future, yes. But I also talk with my brother and he told me.”
“Adriel, enough. Kera, stand down,” Brega demands. “I did not tell you to come so we could fight. We need to deliberate peacefully or we’ll get nowhere. We might as well have stayed in our kingdoms if we quarrel.”
“Then why didn’t we?”
They all look at Neodyn.
“We left for the hope of peace and we all knew coming here that it would end in fighting. Not even because of the stories of Hillstone, but simply because there is no right answer. Mera is protected, they’re building a gate in the only opening to their kingdom besides the sea and the Dark Woods. Brega, your kingdom is barely holding on as it is. Protect instead of fight.”
“Why should I defend something that no longer exists!” Brega yells, her eyes glistening but her voice steady. “My people are hungry and freezing. My army is down to a few hundred. I have no family left because my cousin is dying in her room. I have nothing. My people are destitute. So why not fight? We have nothing to defend and nothing to live for, so why not stand up?”
Neodyn looks away from her as Eldowyn takes a breath, both impressed and humbled. Glancing at Adriel, he watches her anger fade. Even so, he doesn’t know if they’ll make it through these talks alive. There’s too much bad blood, and if Aradon and Saine show up…
Well, the stories call it “massacre” for a reason.
But he knows it’s too late when the doors open. The sky has been darkening earlier. Revera’s winter is strong.
“Aradon,” Ethiah says breathlessly.
Eldowyn looks to the newcomers. Aradon stands there, an unfamiliar, dark-skinned man beside him, wearing a bright red cloak. A few other Red Warriors stand behind them, but it takes a moment for Eldowyn to recognize Saine, and when Adriel does, he catches her as her knees give out.
“Aradon. Saine…” his voice drifts off as he hears a clanging, a bumbling breath, and heavy footsteps. Hagard walks in, arms flailing and feet stumbling as he drinks from a flask. “Hagard?”
“Aye, elfie! You’re gonna like what Kera brought!” He tumbles in, Aradon grasping his wrist before he falls on his face.
Eldowyn’s brow furrows. “Aradon, what is he talking about?”
Aradon shrugs, clearly unknowing.
“What does it matter?” Adriel questions. “Borez, Babinoux. Arrest Aradon and Saine immediately.”
“No, wait!” Eldowyn holds his hand out, stopping the generals. “Adriel, just listen to them.” He looks in their direction. “They must have a good explanation.”
“Not really,” Hagard mutters to himself.
Aradon huffs, letting Hagard fall to the floor. He looks at Adriel, then to Eldowyn. “Hagard rode to our village and told us of this summit. We’ve come here to talk.”
“About?” Brega asks.
“We’ll join the fight,” the dark-skinned man says.
Brega’s eyes narrow. She knows the game they’re playing, that’s clear. “If?”
“No if. We’ll join.”
Brega’s speechless, as is Eldowyn. No game?
“Why do you want to fight now? After all Mortal’s been through, you join now. Why?” Neodyn questions.
“Because this is our home too. And we’re going to make our kingdom great when the war is over,” the dark-skinned man explains.
“Who are you, anyway?” Adriel asks.
“I am Sidah, Master of the Red Warriors. And I don’t need your permission to go to war.”
Neodyn approaches him. “I will not go to war with murderers.”
“War makes everyone a murderer,” Aradon says matter-of-factly. “The good side is in need of a monster, and we’re giving you one hundred and fifty-eight of them.”
“We don’t need you.” Neodyn isn’t relenting, and Eldowyn knows he needs to step in.
“Aradon, Neodyn, let’s talk about this. There’s been enough fighting.”
Aradon looks at him. “I’m not fighting. Sidah has offered you his army. Our armies combined are many, but unless we have hundreds of bowmen, the Sanarx won’t come down without a good fight. Two against one.”
“Aradon is right, elf,” Master Sidah agrees. “The more soldiers you have, the better chance you have at victory.”
Neodyn’s quiet. Adriel can’t take her eyes off Saine as he refuses to meet her gaze, and Brega seems frustrated she’s no longer in control of this meeting. Eldowyn exhales, lowering his voice. “Are you well?”
A smile touches Aradon’s lips briefly, a hand on his shoulder. “Saine brought me to die, but I’ve found new purpose. I’m very well.”
“You’ll die yet, Bowman!” Saine yells from the lineup of Red Warriors.
Eldowyn doesn’t intervene when Adriel stomps over to him and punches him square in the nose, blood gushing out of his nostrils.
Saine gasps, groans. “You witch!”
Adriel punches him again, but he catches her fist. Her eyes are blazing in anger. “Call me a witch again.”
Saine’s brown eyes narrow. “Witch.”
Adriel’s knee connects with his groin and Saine yells, hunching over.
The Red Warriors snicker, and Aradon rolls his eyes as Eldowyn approaches Saine. Adriel moves out of the way to let him be face-to-face with the Plainsman.
“Traitor.”
“Not a traitor. I did this for my father.”
Eldowyn searches Saine’s mind. “So you killed your mother for your father?”
Saine’s eyes are dark. “I love her, you know. I still love her. Kepp is still my friend.”
“He’s no one’s friend.” Eldowyn kicks him to the ground. “And you may still love Adriel…” He shakes his head. “Actually, no. You’ll never get over it.” He looks at her. “You missed out.”
She gives him a grateful smile.
But the moment’s ruined when Kera’s voice sounds. “Hagard, bring in—”
Someone runs into the hall. “Hagard, Kera, Elvian is choking a gua—” she stops talking a
s she catches Eldowyn’s eyes. She’s frozen in place as Eldowyn is, her cold-flame silver eyes looking into his. The brokenness. The bravery. The vulnerability and the changing. The defiance. An instinct fills him, and he approaches her with purpose he’s never felt before. Grabbing her wrist, he shoves up her sleeve. His eyes widen, and tears fill them as he sees the black tattooed D on the inside of her wrist. Defiant.
And he remembers everything. But he doesn’t like everything.
“Eldowyn…” Her voice. That gorgeous voice. “You remember me?”
“I…” Her long, dark brown hair. The fact that she’s taller than most elven maidens, but still shorter than him, though. He remembers meeting her, the way they hated each other because she was an exile of Radian and he was the pompous, egotistical prince. She got along well with Kepp. Even at the end they were fighting, both too afraid to say what they felt. And now that he’s seeing her again…
He still can’t say it.
“Sauriel.”
She smiles. That brilliant smile. She puts her hand on his cheek. “Eldowyn. Finally.” She kisses his cheek and wraps her arms around him.
He slides his around her back, never wanting to let go of her, only vaguely aware that everyone is staring at him and that she was starting to say someone called Elvian was choking a guard.
His eyes snap open. Someone called Elvian is choking a guard.
He pulls away and rushes out of Hillstone, the others behind him. Two men are in a fight, wrestling each other on the ground.
“What is the meaning of this?” Brega questions, as it’s one of her guards who has his knife drawn, trying to stab the man who’s throttling him.
“My Lady, I—” the guard is interrupted as the brown-haired man grabs his knife and puts it to his throat.
“Kera, if this is one of yours, then explain why he’s attacking my men!” Brega demands.
Kera shakes her head. “I don’t know why. Sauriel and Elvian came to us only a couple of weeks ago.”
Eldowyn’s brow creases.
“They’re still your responsibility. Get a grip on them.”
Kera nods to her brother and a Kawa guard, and they separate the two fighting men. The guard is bruised but not cut up. The other isn’t even scratched.
