by Juliet Lili
“We are aware of your service to protect us as the royal commander, and for that, we are forever grateful” the lord gave a slight bow then lifted his head. “Pardon your grace, but you are frequent absence from court affairs put you in an unfortunate position. The people need someone reliable and present always to hear them. Also with his Majesty in a sad state, our enemies may grow bold to sneak into the cities.” The high lord countered gaining confidence from few supporters nodding in the room.
What enemies? None of their foes had the guts to strike since he had hunted them to the brink of annihilation. Not even the rebels had the audacity.
Calemir almost scoffed. He was familiar with the lord’s conniving character. He found it absurd that Ivlisar would request the appointment of a new king so quickly and more so his father whom he had blatantly proclaimed as dead was in fact in a deep sleep. Other elders around him shifted awkwardly in their seats and chanced a glance at him. Calemir showed no emotion, his face unreadable. A mask he wore too well recently since he had ridden to his father’s house after receiving the upsetting news of his father’s sudden state. To keep order through the kingdom, he was forced to make more effort to hide his emotions and display nothing other than the authority, confidence, and collectiveness before the elders of the high houses. A tiny slip before the lords was unwanted and dangerous as he could very witness from the yapping high lord.
“For those-” whatever lord Ivlisar wanted to spew was cut short by the entrance of Val, the queen. Like the elders, Calemir squared his shoulders and stood up straight in the presence of the queen and watched her approach the throne gracefully. The queen sat on the throne, the elegant embellished gown she wore cascaded down her slender form and pooled at her feet. Her two sharp ears peaked out beneath her long, vibrant red hair that was adorned and held by a circlet allodia crown. They all rose, curtsying with one hand to the chest and bow of their heads. The queen tilted her head down in a bow, acknowledging them. Calemir and the elders took to their seats.
“Lord Ivlisar who is it you desire to sit on the throne?” the queen asked in ancient elvish tongue after the room went to a pinning silence. The tone of her voice was too kind for someone whose throne was being threatened that had Calemir taken aback. He hoped his mother’s vitality was not broken from caring for his ill father that she had no strength left to fight. If it happened to be, he vowed he would not easily hand over his father’s throne especially to the likes of the babbling elder.
Lord Ivlisar blinked at the unexpected question and the fact that the queen had heard him.
“We have yet to choose my queen,” the lord grinned, thinking his proposal was on the right path to be accepted. On the other hand, Calemir felt the annoyance that he had been feeling when the lord had begun to talk shifting to anger.
I should have seen this coming he told himself. He should have prepared himself for imminent threats and opposition. It hadn’t been more than four days since his father was ridden on his bed and oblivious to his surrounding and what transpired, still, here was one of his trusted counsel eyeing his throne. His mother’s calm voice brought his attention back to the ongoing talk.
“Lord Ivlisar who is Faerthurin?” the queen asked again.
“He is the forefather him who we descend from my queen” Lord Ivlisar snorted at the silly question rising quiet chuckles from other high lords. For an elder, he lacked manners. Every pure blood even a half-born elf was no stranger to Faethurin. From childbirth, the voice from the great one himself whispered in every bone marrow and echoed in the beating heart awakening the light spirit he had weaved before age began for an elf.
“What is the first call of an elf?” the queen asked. An amused expression shadowed lord Ivlisar face and stared at the queen like she had lost her wits and was crazy, at the same time other lords openly and stared at her strangely as they observed the unfolding conversation.
“I think the sudden illness of the king has affected you significantly. A rest would be suitable to replenish your spirit”. Lord Ivlisar replied in a jibing tone. “This is a suggestion from a lord who cares deeply for the queen of our great nation.”
I cannot watch this humiliation! Calemir’s jaw locked. A dark scowl loomed over his attractive face. He balled his hands into a fist and felt tendrils of heat climb down his legs and back up to his neck. His green eyes narrowed as he stood to intervene. Enough of this!
Tension strained the air in the room.
The queen sent a warning glance his way before he could do anything.
“What is the first call, lord Ivlisar?” the queen repeated her tone a blade and no longer polite.
“To follow dróttinn,” The lord replied after a swallow, a flustered look upon his features.
The queen’s eyes blazed from within to molten gold. Power shimmered within their depths.
“Who is dróttinn?” the elf queen demanded, her voice hard.
Every high lord in the grand hall tensed feeling the heated friction that had overtaken the calmer atmosphere that was present earlier. Calemir who was still standing, smirked, the charging emotions coming from the high lords rousing him. Fear, anger, excitement, anticipation, surprise, and sympathy slithered through him, mending energy to his muscles and quickening his heartbeat. It had been long since he was subjected to such strong emotions.
His irises began to darken to a richer color, his fingers twitched with a steady pulse, goosebumps breaking over his flesh. He clenched his fingers together, nails digging into his palms. It had also been long since he was in the presence of other, powerful high-elves other than himself.
It’s too much he heeded as the intangible emotions hummed inside him. He planted his foot firmly on the floor to stop from swaying. The older the high elves were, the stronger their feelings wept from them. Just then, an intense wave of indignation, mixed incoherent emotions bombarded him and tugged at his senses. It was too intense Calemir was beginning to get drunk from it- his eyes searched for the owner among the ethereal faces and landed on his mother, the source of such succulent and terrifying ball of barely controlled feelings. Her angelic face, beautiful as the stars wore a severe cutting look.
I cannot lose control. I cannot lose control Calemir chanted in his mind commanding his dulling senses to stay alert. Beads of hot sweat formed on the base of his neck. Any other time he would’ve welcomed the rush and what came after it. However not here, if he lost control and snapped, lord Ivlisar would be the first man he guaranteed would suffer. It would be troublesome to stand for a trial for killing the lord. Words of him being ruthless were not born from thin air. His eyelids fell shut and peeled open upon hearing the chilling tone of the queen’s voice.
“Answer me!” the queen thundered against the hushed room. Lord Ivlisar opened and closed his mouth, gasped like a fish out of water, no words coming out his mouth. His ears reddened and his dark brows shot up. “The chosen son. The descended of Faerthurin. King Gwainor” lord Ivlisar recited bitterly.
An ominous silence invaded the room.
The queen shifted her blazing gaze from lord’s Ivlisar stricken face and focused on the entire room. “Do any of you have other requests or would like to be reminded of who is the king? Do you need to be told who has fought and kept this nation safe for hundreds of years?” The lords glanced at each other, cleared their throats and shifted awkwardly on the chairs but no one among them had the courage to speak.
“Mmmh…good” Val’s demeanor softened. Seeing nobody had something to say she motioned for the rest to leave the hall with a flick of her fingers. Calemir stayed behind.
“How can it be” his mother cried as she collapsed into his arms after the last elder departed and the two of them were left alone. He felt a pinch on his forearms, her fingers grasping the black embroidered tunic he wore tightly. He wrapped his arms around her and gently pressed her head to his chest. “I have tried everything” she sobbed.
“It will be alright soon” he muttered softly, gently patting her bac
k. He felt her disappointment- it numbed his high and slowed his drumming heartbeat. He wished he could take away the guilt that filled her heart, the guilt of failing to heal her other half when she could heal thousands with her healing powers.
Were they not so unfortunate people! Calemir smothered a bitter laugh as he considered of their unfavorable likeness. He was an empath who was not only able to feel other’s emotions but had the rare ability to manipulate them except his mother. Not because he couldn’t use it on her, it was that she had made him swear never to use his ability on her and in return he had sworn he would never do it despite how tempted he felt now. Once an elf promised, he could not go against his word. He was bound to keep it. He closed his eyes briefly in frustration then opened them.
Calemir leaned back, placed his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. He looked at her and muttered softly, “Soon everything will be right, and father will come back. Soon mother, do not worry.”
Chapter Nine
Nara tied up Lucky’s ropes around the tree and checked if she had knotted it well and comfortable for her to move around in an acceptable distance. Lucky immediately sidled against the tree and folded her legs under her belly. Nara patted the steed’s smooth forehead and watched her big droopy eyes close. They’d stopped to make camp deep in the woodlands for the night after long four restless days of riding. They chose to camp near a clear flowing stream for easy access for the horses and them to drink and use.
Nara approached one of two circles her fellow warriors had formed earlier around burning chopped branches of wood and found a spot in the circle to sit. She breathed in the delicious aroma of a smoked doe they had caught for supper. Her empty stomach growled in response and her mouth watered.
“Here.” Astrid who sat beside her offered her a large tin bowl with well cooked meat in it. She took hold of the bowl and briefly met her eyes in acknowledgment and gratitude.
“Thank you”, Nara murmured and hurriedly bit into a large piece of meat.
The woods were quiet as the warriors ate. Not a single sound managed to invade the impenetrable invisible barrier of grief surrounding them. Not even the sound of people chewing, swallowing and drinking stirred amused or annoyed remarks. Abasi’s betrayal had hit hard and honestly, took them by surprise. Each face Nara peaked at beneath her eyelashes as she chewed on the meat wore the expression of sorrow. The death of their fellow mates had affected them greatly than any other time when one of them got killed on a mission. Her eyes searched for Barra among the heads bowed in silent resignation for the lost ones and found him seated quietly in the other circle few strides apart from where she sat. He too couldn’t escape the oppressive gloom, -although his eyes narrowed in concentration as he stared at a moth dancing at edges of the hot flames in front of him, sadness still shadowed his features.
“He is grieving like the rest of us, yet he’ll not show it for our sake,” Astrid whispered loud enough for her to hear alone. She agreed with Astrid’s words altogether, Barra was forced to remain tough, unaffected, his head cools for them, and every time she glanced his way it seemed his face contorted into something darker behind the dancing flames. From sadness to fury. Nara did not know what to say instead she finished the last piece of meat and placed the empty bowl on the grass under her bent knees.
“He must be burdened. He has to deliver news which no caring relation of blood or not would desire to hear” Astrid continued, her voice tinged with sympathy.
“With no bodies to show” Nara added as she remembered the short burial they had in Latrell. She wondered for a second what if her family were the ones to hear she had died.
She could almost imagine her beloved father’s spirit breaking and blaming himself for her death, Ingrid cheery soul crumbling and her mother suffering as she mourned for her and struggled to hold the family together.
“I want to go to Fisher City. I haven’t been there in a while”, the words jerked her back to the present.
“I don’t mind the smell of the sea either… I would like to live there instead of living in the capital” Astrid’s words toppled over the other almost incoherent to her ear. Surprised by the abrupt change of subject, Nara glanced at her with a questioning look.
“I have saved enough money to start a good life there” Astrid added. Every person in the army was handsomely paid-although not equally to people who were in higher ranks such as the General and his commanders. Nevertheless, even the knight watchers who acted as eyes from the high walls were given enough coin to waste beyond ale and women of the night.
Nara saw the trepidation written on her face, surprising her. For as long she’d known Astrid, she had never seen this side of her. The Astrid Nara knew was a strong woman in both body and mind, uneasily terrified of anyone or anything. Astrid was one person who had encouraged and coached her when she had been young, fragile, tame and gentle as a lamb into the strong-willed person she was now. Not once had she ever seen a hint of fear in the lady even when both got caught in a situation that was a matter of life and death. Even then, the woman fought through them and emerged unperturbed.
The memories only made her shock greater on seeing such intense fear in her friend. As if reading her mind, Astrid continued. “I’m afraid it will become a war that will not come to an end quickly” she tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear nervously.
“I’m even more scared we’ll lose-” She talked in a manner as if the war had already been won and declared its victor.
“You don’t know that-” Nara began to object. Astrid cut her mid-sentence with a stern glare that she had become familiar with over the eight years which meant not to dare interrupt her when she talked.
“Our army is not as big nor is it strong as you and I would like to believe. Not anymore. Abasi now rules all the south and so far as to Amahle and Kona. We are lucky we are alive!” Astrid whispered harshly. Nara regarded at her intently, not liking the fear in her mentor’s eyes. Her mind became restless as she recalled what Barra told her about seeing the Kalil General and his men. It is as though General Schmerz had left them alive so they would deliver the tragic news themselves. He had used them as a messenger, a good courtesy to what was to come.
She looked around their circle and perceived the uncomfortable sets of eyes on them. Their little whispering group was starting to garner attention. She placed her hand on Astrid’s and opened her mouth and tried to come up with something to make her stop talking, it wasn’t the time to rile up grieving people, but her throat felt dry and her tongue thick. Astrid’s words seemed to have sealed her lips. She couldn’t come up with anything.
“War is still fresh in their minds and body unlike us. When was the last time we went into a serious battle, apart from playing cat and mouse with bandits and marching to helpless and measly lands to terrorize them into surrendering which they do eventually without putting on a fight? Twenty, forty years and more. Kalil not more than three years ago, with Mesak kingdom!” Astrid hissed gaining more curious and angst eyes around them. Noticing the looks, Astrid quickly bowed her head and cracked her knuckles in embarrassment.
Nara took notice of how some of the men were unsettled from what they just heard. She could say they were shaken.
No, I won’t be shaken Nara told herself. She would not let Astrid’s words get to her. They should not rush to the conclusion of the war. And if to say war breaks, she coolly reflected they had a strong army too to withstand Abasi’s force.
Out of nowhere laughter and giggles echoed in the woods, breaking the tense atmosphere and rising it to a new level of eerie silence. She had heard that kind of laughter before, high pitched with a melodic ring to it enough to enchant women to paralytic state and lead men to their death. They belonged to no other than the nykr. Her ears tickled to the laughter that was soft as feathers.
Shoulders stiffening, her hand shot quickly and gripped the silver hilt of her sheathed sword. Nara sat very still, keeping her senses sharply alert. It seemed like ti
me stopped when recognition of whom the voices belonged to finally dawned on the rest of the troop. Even those who were nodding off to the night woke in alarm-sleep forgotten. Heads cocked to the side where the laughter was coming from while hands instinctively reached out for a nearby weapon ready to protect themselves and fend of the dangerous intruder.
There must have been a grotto nearby. Nara thought, disappointed they had failed to spot one earlier in the evening before they had established a camp, for this dire situation could’ve been avoided at best. From encounters like this and stories embedded in them from childhood, each one of them knew nykr were evil water spirits. Nykr, magically beautiful as they were dangerous with the ability to take a form of a human woman on land or that with a tail of a fish when in water. With offerings and sacrifices it was believed that nykr would favor fishermen with the healthiest catch, but if not pleased with the offerings, the Nykr would drown them. There were few of them left wandering around, their male counterparts the nøkk already hunted to extinction.
Tongue tracing straight teeth behind closed lips, Nara feared if it would be another bloody night.
The laughter drew closer to where they camped and suddenly stopped. The air became strained and every noise around them including of the woodland insects and night creatures muted as if the creatures were also afraid. The nykr were close enough to be felt like a shadow but not too close to be seen in the crackling flame and where the moonlight could not reach the full dark row of trees. The tension was palpable Nara could almost touch it with her fingers if she weren't gripping the tilt of her sword so hard that the skin of her knuckles turned pale. Soon the face of sorrow was replaced with the readiness of battle on each warrior.
Nara took a glance at Barra to see if he’d offer any sort of direction of the situation. But Barra remained still like the rest of them, head jerked toward the dark rows of trees, his broad shoulders rigid and coiled with apprehension with a hand on his long sword. The silence was dreadful as they waited for the nykr who seemed to be taking their sweet time coming to terms whether they should continue to wherever they were heading or douse humans in a nearby water body.
