by Meg Cowley
To the north, Ednor lay amongst forested foothills. The mixed deciduous and coniferous forests of the valley gave way to evergreens that climbed up the mountains to the tree line, broken here and there by grassy meadows. In high summer the snow line lay far above this and Eve could see white upon the towering peaks of the Helm Mountains; glaciers grasped the mountains and dirty snow banks stubbornly stuck in crevices and hollows.
At this distance great detail was not visible, though Ednor’s buildings seemed made of the same light golden coloured stone as Arlyn, although here it appeared much paler. At Ednor’s highest point a large building dominated and Eve guessed this was where she was to go.
With a delighted laugh, she urged her horse forward to ride down into the valley as Luke and Nyle hurried to keep pace with her. Eve’s excitement increased as her fear receded, forgotten as she basked in the colourful and rich beauty that contrasted the rocky, barren and shaded path they had been following. Woods and smallholdings passed by as they rode. Trees, taller than any she had seen before, threw dappled light upon them as they rode across grassy knolls.
They reached the boundaries of Ednor just after midday and rode in without delay. Here in the secret valley, there was no need for sentries and armies, nor gates and walls. Eve was surprised to find this; even a peaceful town such as Arlyn still benefited from fortification and was under constant defence.
There was little separation between the forest and Ednor; the stone buildings complimented their surroundings, fitting within the forest inconspicuously. Eve could not decide whether it was a city or a town – or neither, for it conformed to no norms she had seen.
By comparison, Arlyn was barren and primitive and even the grandeur of Pandora could not match the muted grace of Ednor’s buildings, where each building was a masterpiece. Carvings and columns adorned each one, as if they were drawn from the ground instead of constructed.
Stone ivy chased over walls, up, and around impossibly delicate stone arbours that appeared to be woven together from giant threads. Each dwelling was generously spaced from its neighbours; the buildings seemed almost haphazard in placement, and no boundary markings separated property from property.
Everywhere there was greenery, flowers, and the sound of running water. Streams trickled down from the mountains and elegant fountains burbled. Music and birdsong and laughter emanated from unseen places all around. Perhaps even more beautiful than the city were its inhabitants the Eldarkind; golden haired, pale skinned and light eyed men, women and children went about their business with a sense of unsuppressed contentment, stopping to look with surprise at the unfamiliar girl who appeared to be one of their own, riding with two dark haired strangers.
Eve rode forward unaware, engrossed by the beauty of the place, barely paying heed to Luke and Nyle, who were uncomfortable with the attention as the Eldarkind murmured away in an unfamiliar tongue.
As they travelled, the ground rose and rocky outcrops thrust up from the forest floor. The valley constricted and though still wide, the tree spacing decreased, meadows opened up and buildings now perched artfully on the valley sides. Where at last the gentle rising slops of the valley gave way to the mountains proper, they found themselves at the highest point of Ednor. A tall wall arose in front of them, with wrought gates wide open.
They passed under the archway to a courtyard and gardens where before them they beheld the great dwelling they had seen from a distance. Although the gates were open, a single guard manned it, and he approached as they made to ride through.
“Halt and dismount, please!” he called, his voice accented. “On what business are you here?”
“I am Lady Eve of Arlyn.” Eve gracefully dismounted and gestured at Luke and Nyle to do the same. “I travel with my guards Luke and Nyle to seek the council of the Queen as soon as possible. I apologise for our unannounced arrival and I humbly beg for an audience.”
The guard smiled, and bowed. “Then it is my pleasure to welcome you to Ednor, Lady Eve. If you follow me, I shall have your horses stabled and rooms prepared for you to stay. I shall arrange for your audience as soon as possible.”
“Thank you,” replied Eve, surprised at the welcome. Soon the horses were stabled, and the three were led to adjacent quarters in a grand building with high ceilings and tall windows, full of light, paintings, sculptures and flowing structures. Eve’s room had a view of the mountains behind Ednor. When she tore her attention away from it, she noticed a small ewer stood beside it and gratefully washed her face and hands.
Before she had an opportunity to enjoy her surroundings, let alone bathe or change, another of the Eldarkind returned to invite her to meet the queen. Eve regretfully turned her back on the bath and prepared to meet Artora dressed in several day old clothing and no doubt stinking to high heaven. She sighed and steeled herself, determined not to disappoint her father, as her guide stopped, knocked on a door and announced her presence.
She was ushered into an airy, light room where each wall was a different fantastical mural. The far wall held wide and tall windows, with panes of glass so fine and perfect they were invisible. Eve saw gardens filled with flowers and trees, beyond which the mountains rose.
What captured Eve’s gaze was the tall woman who rose at her entrance from a carved chair behind a vast desk. Golden hair streamed loosely across her shoulders and fell to her thighs, illuminated from behind by the light of the window.
She wore, to Eve’s surprise, no extravagant dress or crown or jewels as Eve had seen Queen Naisa wear at Pandora, but a fine fitted shirt and pants, skillfully tailored and embroidered. Despite her face being in shadow, Eve perceived high cheekbones, symmetrical features, and keen blue eyes that fixed upon her own. Eve froze in her penetrating gaze.
“It is good to have the daughter of Freya travel to our land.” The woman’s smile was warm, and the moment was broken. “You are most welcome, Eve of Arlyn.” She stepped across the room towards Eve as her eyebrows rose in surprise that the queen knew her mother’s name. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Artora. It is some time since I had word from Arlyn. How is your father?” The queen drew close to Eve, taller than her by a few inches and to Eve’s amazement bent to kiss both cheeks.
“Thank you for your kind welcome, Your Majesty,” replied Eve with a bow. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment for her poor state of appearance next to this impressive woman. “My father is well, thank you. However, I did not ride here for pleasure, though I have longed to for many years. I come bearing news.” She presented the parchment letter sealed with the stamp of Arlyn to the queen, who took it and moved back to the window, to read it in the light. Her brow furrowed as she read.
“Things are indeed dark if Karn seeks my council,” Artora murmured to herself. “You may call me Artora,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “We do not use titles and rank so formally in Ednor, as you will see.”
Thoughtfully she folded up the letter, and, balancing it on her palm, blew upon it. Eve gasped as the letter sailed lightly off the queen’s hand onto the desk several feet away, as if it were no lighter than a feather with a mind of its own.
“How did you do that?” she exclaimed involuntarily, open-mouthed.
“How did I do what?” Artora turned to regard her with bafflement.
“Th-the letter. It flew!” Eve stammered.
“Magic of course – why would you not know that? Don’t you know of magic?” Artora questioned upon seeing Eve’s blank face. As Eve shook her head, the queen’s brows furrowed with anger, and her eyes narrowed. “To think Freya’s daughter does not know of magic. What was Karn thinking!” she said to herself scathingly, before addressing Eve. “If magic had burst out of you unexpectedly, the consequences could have been dire!”
“Why would magic burst out of me?” Eve asked, with a sense of dread.
“Well your mother was one of the Eldarkind, so you will have inherited her powers.” The queen frowned, as if that were obvious. “Surely you must know – surely s
he told you.”
“My mother didn’t have any magic,” said Eve with more conviction than she felt.
Dismay filled the queen’s face. “You know nothing of your heritage, do you, Eve?” Eve shook her head again and feeling ashamed and confused. Her eyes dropped to the floor as her cheeks blushed once more. Artora sighed. “Your mother was one of the Eldarkind. She possessed magical abilities; we all do. She simply chose not to use her powers whilst she stayed in the mortal world and raised you, in order to keep you safe. I still thought that she must have told you of them.”
“To keep me safe,” Eve mouthed to herself soundlessly. She felt suddenly sad, sadder than she had felt for a long time, now realising how little she knew of a mother who had abandoned her true heritage, her own kind and even her magical powers and who had then been rewarded with an early death from a sickness no magic could cure. She felt an awareness of the sacrifices her mother had made that she had never before perceived.
Artora studied her sympathetically. “Would you like me to tell you about your mother?” she asked gently. Eve looked up, with tears in her eyes, and nodded. The queen gestured to a chair by her desk, inviting Eve to sit, and took her own grand seat once more. A servant slipped in to leave refreshments for them both and Artora herself poured tea for them. In the silence Eve felt as though she were a child once more; not the sophisticated ambassador she was supposed to be.
“I knew your mother better than you may think,” Artora said. “Freya was my second cousin on my father’s side, so in fact you would be my second cousin once removed.” Eve glanced up in surprise. “Yes, it is true!” Artora smiled at her and Eve mirrored her uncertainly, feeling a strange warmth within her at the thought of kinship. “So you may be married into royalty on your father’s side, but you are royalty on your mother’s.” Artora let out a small, rich laugh, before her smile tempered.
“Alas, I miss her. We were close when she and I were younger although I was several years her senior. Your mother became an envoy for us when she grew to adulthood, and I did not see much of her then; my duties kept me here.
“Oft we would send her to Pandora to confer with Queen Naisa. It was there she met your father. They fell in love and, well, that was the end of her travels. She longed for nothing more than to settle down with the man she loved and neither I nor anyone else could sway her mind.
“She came one last time to say goodbye, many years ago now, just before you were born. She swore not to reveal our presence to anyone save Karn – he in turn doing likewise – and she swore never to use her magic outside our borders. Perhaps that is why you never knew of our magic at all, though I did not intend that.”
“She told me stories,” said Eve suddenly. “She told me stories about the magical kingdom of the Eldarkind, the adventures of the Eldarkind, their history, their wonderful magical powers and how they would make all right in the world, how she was of the Eldarkind. I was only a child. I never thought those tales were true. I didn’t think it possible. And then she died,” she trailed off into silence.
“Yes,” said the queen heavily. “And then she died. I will never understand how that illness took her of all others and so quickly too. I wish there had been time to come to her; perhaps we could have healed her. I suppose what is past is past and we cannot change that. I am sorry though Eve, that you never knew more of your mother, or of us.”
There was a long silence as Eve contemplated what she had just heard, and Artora did not press her to speak. Finally, she met the queen’s eyes. “How much is there that I do not know?” she questioned.
“Eve, even I could learn of things from now until the end of time and I would not know all there is to know,” replied the queen. “Of the Eldarkind and magic, there is more than I can impart to you in a short while, but I shall personally teach you what I can in the time you are here, if you would find that amenable?”
“You would do that for me?” asked Eve, surprised.
“You are my kind, and moreover my kin, Eve and we always help those that we may, especially those of our own. Matters of politics and troubles in Caledan aside, would you like to stay for a while?” Artora invited.
“My father instructed me to return straight away,” replied Eve, “although I’m unwilling to be quite so hasty.” She trailed off into silence.
“Well regardless, you will not be departing immediately, so why not mull over it this afternoon,” proposed Artora. “Tonight you and your guards may dine with the household and I and perhaps you can give me your answer then.”
Eve agreed with a shy smile, and the queen smiled back. Artora stood to dismiss her. “Excellent,” she said. “Now, I understand that of course you will be tired after your journey. Please feel free to bathe in your chambers and prepare yourself for tonight. Although we do not dine formally, I shall be attending in a dress; it would please me to see you in one also. Did you bring one?”
“Yes,” said Eve. “I’m unsure if it is grand enough for your table but I shall wear it nonetheless. Where do I go?”
“Worry not; there is someone waiting outside to return you to your chamber, and I will send someone again tonight to show you to the dining room.”
Eve smiled at the queen in thanks and, after a last glance back at the beautiful woman who stood framed in the light of the windows once more, closed the door and let herself be led away.
She spent over an hour in a hot bath mulling over everything Artora had said. Upon returning to her chambers, Eve had felt an initial flash of anger at her father for hiding so much from her, however as she thought, she realised that perhaps he had believed it was for the best, given his promise to Artora. She was determined to speak to him about it the moment she had the chance. Not for the first time she wondered why he had let her come to Ednor. Again, she found no answer.
Her reflections turned to herself; Nyle’s accusing face from their confrontation the previous day swam into her mind and she dwelt upon thoughts of whom and what she was. A rap at the door made her jump. Luke’s voice called through it.
“Eve, are you there?” He waited for a few seconds. She did not reply. “Lady Eve?” After a pause, she heard footsteps receding, and then silence. She breathed a sigh of relief. She had no desire to talk to anyone; her head swam with all there was for her to consider. She resolved there was nothing more to think about that she could presently solve and closed her eyes, attempting to let the feeling of warmth wash over her. It was no use, however. Regardless of how hard she shut her eyes or attempted to blank her thoughts, her mind whispered to her. Who are you? It questioned insidiously, planting a growing fear within her.
Soren
The prince and the monks viewed the scene far below them with trepidation. It was Hador that broke the silence and chivvied them away. “Men, come. It will do us no good to worry over what is done. We have our orders and this is not our battle. I feel as each of you feels and I would run to defend our home, however our Abbot ordered us away for good reason.”
Three of the monks nodded. The other two stared at Soren with obvious dislike and he, catching their looks, understood why. He could see the longing in their eyes to go to the aid of their comrades and their home and their resentment at having to mind him like a baby.
He made no move to smile or frown at them but stared at them until they turned away and followed the others back into the cave. Hador noticed their animosity. “Take no heed of them,” he murmured to the prince as soon as the others were out of earshot.
“I understand their dislike of me. If I were in their position, I would feel the same. I did ask the Abbot to let me stay and fight, but his mind was made up.” Soren frowned.
“The abbot is aware of your importance,” replied the monk, still watching the monastery. “You are the heir to the throne, and thus the wellbeing of Caledan and its people rests in your hands. He does not wish to place you in any more danger than you are already in. It is to be our sacrifice for you that seeks to gain you the liberty to regain the
crown for the good of Caledan.”
“I know this,” admitted the prince. “I’m still loathe to hide in the mountains when down there in plain sight is the man who murdered my mother. I have as much cause as any of you to want to fight him, and I feel guilt staying here. What if we could make the difference? What if the addition of your six men and I could change the fate of what lies ahead?”
“We are not to know what may or may not be,” Hador said. “It was clear the abbot was not willing to take that risk. As we keep the crown, it was inevitable that Zaki would come. It would have put you in more danger for him to know of your presence there.”
“What of the abbot?” asked Soren. “He said that he feared we would not meet again and it left me with the strangest shiver down my spine.”
Hador looked at him keenly. “He also said those words to me. I worry they may be true. Nevertheless, try to allay your fears. The abbot has had a long and full life and has no sadness or fear at his approaching end, whenever that may be.
“Moreover, he appreciates that this is as it must be; no one may live forever. Therefore, we must be as brave as he. Do not worry about the monastery and my brethren. He entrusted it to my care as his successor and he has trained me long and well for the task, though I do not presume to be as great a man as he.”
Soren reflected on this, pleasantly surprised. In the short time since they had met, Hador seemed a reasonable and just man, who was intelligent and efficient in what he did. “When are we to return?” he asked at last.
Hador did not reply for a time. “I have not decided that yet,” he admitted. “The abbot forbade us to return whilst foes are at our gates. I must remain heartless in refusing my own yearning to return, so that I may help secure our future hopes.” After a moment, he turned and strode away.
