by C D Beaudin
When they step off the bridge, a soldier comes to them in a silver breastplate, and a blue cloak flowing behind him. Two red braids caress his cheeks, the rest of his hair down his back. His blue eyes are bright and piercing, much like Awyn’s, but darker.
“I am Hellios. I will take you to the Blue One.” He leads them as Marmac and Forithion walk back to the bridge. Awyn and Aradon follow him up steps winding around a tall pillar—above which lies the palace.
The steps connect to a large stone overhang, the huge cliff surface containing more huts, and an enormous palace carved into the cavern wall, the front of it protruding out of the rock face. The only other flaw in the otherwise perfectly flat cavern walls is a small alcove behind the stables. Flowers surround a sapphire pool in front of the palace, and beyond it, a group of beautiful horses—no, Everbreeds.
“Aradon! Look.” She points at the horses behind white painted, wooden gates. The Everstar emblem is painted on the curved arch of the stable roof. It reminds her of Mera.
Aradon looks over at them. “In ancient times, the elves would ride these horses. In wars, battles. But since the end of the First Age it was said that they disappeared. Clearly that isn’t true, since you would be a Dalorin if it was.”
“They must have been forgotten, like this city,” Awyn says as they start to climb the few stairs to the palace doors. The white doors open, and they walk in to find a carved hall, pillars decorated with sapphire, and drapes of the same blue flow along the walls and pillars.
A richly designed crimson rug lines the smooth, shiny floor. Soldiers dressed the same as their guide line the walls, each one wearing the blue cape, a bow in hand, and sheaths of arrows on their backs. Three doors on the left and three on the right. At the front of the hall, a silver throne, decorated with, once again, deep blue sapphires. At the left of the throne, a door opens, and a man walks out in a white robe, his black hair braided behind him.
“All bow to the Blue One.” His voice is loud and powerful, but he does not shout. He steps aside as a woman enters the room, her long, curly white hair is braided, and resting on her left shoulder, revealing her elf ears. On her hands, white paint decorates her skin. When she turns, Awyn stares, and Aradon gasps. Awyn has never seen a woman like her before.
Her skin is a deep ice-blue, only a hue darker than Awyn’s eyes. The white dress, decorated elaborately with sapphires sets off her skin tone. Her nails are painted white, and so are her lips. White eyebrows and eyelashes touch her skin, and her white eyes sparkle in the magical light.
“She’s so beautiful,” Awyn breathes. “Was she also a legend?” She turns to Aradon, who looks at the woman on the throne.
“Yes.” His voice is breathless, and Awyn looks back at the woman.
“I am Olaria, the Empress of Arleaand, the Blue One of Mortal.” Her voice is like the sea itself, flowing but strong. Her chin lifts slightly as she looks at Aradon. “You are Aradon of Nomarah, correct.” This would normally be a question, but the way she says it is more like a command.
“I am,” he says.
Her white eyebrow rises, and she looks at Awyn. “And you are Awyn of Mera, the daughter to King Daron?”
“Yes, Blue One,” Awyn answers, flustered at how she knows that. But if she foresaw their coming before their birth, knowing her name and title shouldn’t be hard.
“Well then, I will tell you that I have foreseen this meeting long ago, before the fall of Radian and Asgoreth, and before this Besged was born.”
Aradon’s eyes widen. Awyn can tell he’s stunned. Olaria smirks at his discomfort. “You should know, Red Warrior of Nomarah, I know all your secrets. Any nonsense from you and I won’t hesitate to share them.” Her voice enters Awyn’s head, and she’s surprised that she can hear someone’s thoughts again.
Aradon taps his foot nervously, sweat breaking out on his top lip. She’s threatening him. Why?
“I will not be threatened by you, Blue One.”
Awyn glances at Aradon, both shocked at his voice, but also worried.
She smirks again, her white lips parting, her pearly teeth showing through. “You think that now, but my powers are great. I can make her appear. It’s as simple as getting the right bait.”
Aradon glances at Awyn, and she tries to look like she can’t hear them clearly. “If she knew…”
Knew what?
He looks back at the Empress. “Okay. I won’t be any trouble.”
Olaria lifts her head in approval. “Good.”
Awyn sits on the soft bed, bathed, and in a fresh, white satin nightdress. Her black curls tumble down her back, free of the blood and dirt, her fair skin too, clean of the ash and blood. Her burns were treated by the healer here, and no scars show. Her arm was healed, good as new.
She lies down over the covers, looking at the ceiling of the blue-draped room. The gray walls of the small room hide behind them, and a pot of flowers sits on a white vanity.
The seven doors in the hall lead to a maze of rooms within the walls of the cave. About twenty lie within the third door on the right which she entered nearly two hours ago. It didn’t take her long to find her room since she was led there. But it would take years for an unguided person to learn their way around this part, where mainly courtiers and guest rooms reside in the maze.
There’s something I still don’t understand. Raea knew the demon was down there, there is no way she couldn’t have. Did she want to talk to me so badly that she’d put my life in danger?
Awyn breathes deeply, shaking off the thought. A fireplace crackles on the other side of the room. She stands up, walking over to it, grabbing a crocheted white blanket as she sits down on the rug in front of the fire. Looking into the flames, she thinks about happy times.
“Neo! Stop!” Awyn squealed as Neodyn tickled her under the arms, making her little legs kick. He smiled as she started to laugh silently, her breath sucked out of her. “Neo! I can’t breathe.” She’d fought off her smile, but it was no doubt plastered to her small, round face. He’d leaned back, and she’d gasped for air as he chuckled.
Their friendship was odd. She was young compared to him, in his early-teens. Most would think it could never happen. But Neodyn liked her. She was different, not like girls his age, he’d said, who just wanted to learn proper etiquette for when they became queen, and hopefully, his queen. But he always thought Awyn was funny and adventurous. Probably because she was only eight, but he hoped she wouldn’t change when she was older.
Awyn had played with the grass around them, tearing it and trying to whistle with it. Neodyn had chuckled as she blew hard on the grass, but no whistle had come.
“Here, let me show you.” He’d grabbed a thick piece, put it between his thumbs, and blew. Awyn had listened in wonder at the sharp whistle, thinking he’d used magic to achieve it.
The blades of grass floated in the wind, over the green plains of Mera. They sat under a lone tree in the middle of the fields outside the city of Kevah, way beyond where Awyn was allowed to wander. Leaves blew in the cool spring breeze, whipping through Awyn’s long hair.
As an eight-year-old, Awyn wouldn’t be married for a while, probably not for another seven to eight years. But her father had been hoping Neodyn would someday choose her for his queen. Of course, she hadn’t cared one bit about that, she’d just wanted to have fun.
“So, are you excited about becoming king?” Awyn had asked as Neodyn looked out onto the prairies.
“No. My father dying is not something to be excited about, and when I couldn’t see him on his death bed, I’m even more hesitant.” He’d looked down at Awyn, who had cocked her head and had her eyebrows crinkled in confusion. Then he’d smiled, pulling her in under his arm, letting her snuggle into his side.
“You’ll be a great king. But I sure will miss you.”
That was the last time they’d spoken before Tamon’s betrayal. But it was not the last time they’d seen each other. She didn’t see him for a year, he’d gone back to Thasoe,
but then one day he came back to Kevah.
“Princess Awyn, your father calls you to the throne room.” Her guard Nigel called from the door, shutting it behind him. Awyn had jumped from her chair, leaving her doll’s patchwork on the desk, running to her closet. She’d picked out a purple, long-sleeved velvet dress, with blue jewels that brought out her eyes, and a matching necklace and earrings. She’d chosen a pair of silver heels, but after a moment of debate, had thrown them on the floor, deciding not to wear them, since they make her feet hurt.
She’d pattered across purple carpet in her bare feet to her vanity against the white wall. Awyn had brought her golden comb through her hair, getting out the many tangles. It was windy that morning and racing her father on horseback had made her hair wild and unmanageable.
Then she’d thrown open the big white doors to her room and ran down the hall, looking behind her. “Bye, Mr. Nigel,” she’d called to her guard.
He smiled as he watched her, the golden ceiling above her, a pot of flowers tipping as she accidentally ran into it. She’d stopped briefly as the pot shattered, dirt and flowers spilling. “Oops.” Her face had grown red as one of the maids, Esmeralda, shook her head when she saw the mess.
“Now, Princess, what have I told you about running in the halls?” Her hands were on her grandmotherly hips and made Awyn’s lips grow tight in guilt.
“Sorry, Esmeralda. I won’t do it again.”
The old woman had given her an understanding smile. “Well then, off with you.”
Awyn had slowly walked the rest of the way along the corridor, but started running again when she turned the corner, out of the sight of the old maid. The doors to the throne room in sight, she’d run through them as the two guards quickly opened them, before she ran into them at full gallop.
The court had been full of courtiers and guards, and all the important people of the court. Uncle Tamon stood beside her father, his brother. It had looked magical to Awyn. Her mother, the solemn Queen Adara sat on a throne to the left of King Daron. They were dressed in rich clothing, he in his red cape, and a golden crown embedded with jewels of almost every color. Her mother had chosen to wear a green dress with quarter-sleeves, and her favorite string of large pearls had complemented the dress. It set off her own golden crown of red and blue jewels.
Awyn had walked to her place in court, beside her uncle. She’d smiled up at him, as he glanced down at her, a smile, too, on his face. Trumpets flared, and Awyn’s attention had turned to the doors as they opened. Her eyebrow rose as her handsome friend Neodyn had walked strongly down the aisle adorned in his red cloak, and royal garments, with a golden band over his brow. But even in his regal clothes, she knew everyone just saw a little boy who was too young to become king.
Her crush had been getting ridiculous. She’d felt her face flush red, and brought her hands to her cheeks, rubbing them as discreetly as possible, trying to remove the red. But felt no results through her nine-year-old efforts.
“King Neodyn of Hadore.” After a guard announced his arrival, a drum beat twice, and then silence.
“Have you made a decision, brother?” Neodyn said, confusing Awyn.
“Why did Neo call father ‘brother’? They are not related,” she whispered, looking up at her uncle.
“It is custom for kings to call each other brother when they first enter court, as the Five Kings did long ago,” he had explained, eyes soft. She never knew then how much betrayal would be held in the memories of those brown eyes.
Awyn, satisfied with his answer had looked back to her friend. She has known him for nine years—all her life—and even as apart as they were in age, he’d always managed to have time for her.
“I have indeed, brother.” King Daron stood, and Awyn bounced slightly in excitement. A warm smile had appeared on her father’s face. “If the circumstances are right, on the night of her eighteenth birthday, Princess Awyn shall marry King Neodyn of Hadore, and go back to his kingdom to rule with him. And upon mine and my queen’s death, Awyn will take the throne of Mera, and Neodyn will be her king.”
The crowd had clapped, but only now that she’s older does Awyn understand that the applause held pity for the young king. He shouldn’t have to seek a wife so young, but nonetheless, Awyn and Neodyn had exchanged a brief, but happy glance.
That was the last time Awyn saw him before her life fell apart.
A silent tear falls down her cheek as she looks into the fire, thinking of what could have been. What should have been. But it will not be so, and now, Awyn can’t trust her friend. It seems he has betrayed her as well. A dull knife in her stomach, butchering her insides.
A knock at the door sends Awyn shooting to her feet, and she subconsciously grabs the metal fire-poker. Her mind sees the cell door, and she fears for her life. Her eyes grow even wider when the door opens. The poker shakes in her hand, her knees quivering.
Olaria walks in, shutting the door behind her, taken aback to find Awyn holding the poker to her throat. “Revera.” The name comes from Awyn’s lips in a tight rage. The woman takes a slow step back as Awyn corners her.
“Awyn, calm down. Take a deep breath.” They look into each other’s eyes. Olaria’s are calm, while Awyn’s must be a fire of defense. “Awyn.”
Slowly, she lowers the poker, letting it fall at her feet. Revera’s blue eyes morph into Olaria’s white ones, leaving her wondering why she saw the sorceress.
She stumbles back, coming back to the present. “What was that? I’ve never experienced that before.” Awyn staggers, grasping the bedpost.
Olaria picks up the metal poker, hanging it back on its hook. “It was a reality that could have been.” She looks at Awyn. “A dark reality, one where you are still in the cell. It usually comes after a past memory.” Her eyes are knowing, as if she knows Awyn secretly loves Neodyn. “When Revera healed you of sickness, she must have put a spell on you that causes this.”
Awyn’s eyes narrow. That doesn’t make much sense at all. Revera may be cruel, but she has a reason for everything.
Olaria sits down on the white chair as Awyn sits hesitantly on the bed across from her. “Is this where you tell me my mission will fail because of the growing darkness of my soul? Because I’ve heard it before.” She raises an eyebrow, curious as to what this poker-faced blue woman will say next.
“I will not tell you this mission will fail. And Raea never told you it would fail, either. But your darkness will destroy you and everything—everyone—you love.”
Awyn shifts uncomfortably.
“I was beaten harshly when I was a young girl for my color. My mother had birthed me in a Light Pool, and I came out blue. My mother was killed for producing a…monster.”
“I thought elves blessed the unique?” Awyn asks, confused.
“Most of the time they do, but I was not born among elves. I grew up in a small Asgorethian town, where one of the Light Pools laid. It was hard as an orphan, but luckily when I was a young woman, I escaped from that awful place, and I found Radian. Raea took me in. I became an Elven princess, and I thrived under her leadership. I have a natural power only few elves have. I can see prophecies in my dreams. When I mastered my gift, I broke off with only a hundred elves, determined to create a new colony for my kind. And I became the Blue One.” She tilts her head slightly as she looks at Awyn. “So, you see, I used my darkness—my demons—to drive me, and I was successful, as one of the only elf kingdoms not touched by Revera’s evil.”
“So, you’re telling me my past can help me have a better future?” Awyn can’t help feeling uneasy about that. But she’s desperate.
“I am. But I warn you, Awyn of Mera. Do not let it grow, or you will be enveloped by a never-ending hell.” She stands, leaving the room, and Awyn to dwell on her words.
She lies on the bed, thoughts swarming her mind. I should consider her advice, I mean if I didn’t have to run from…well, me, then perhaps we could have a chance of winning Mera back. But there’s something about her that m
akes me feel…uncomfortable.
When morning comes, Awyn is excited to tell the Red Warrior about her talk with Olaria. She jumps out of bed, pulling off her nightgown, and running across the room to the divider. There’s a blue dress waiting for her, and she ties it with a crimson sash. Pulling on white leather sandals, she grabs her satchel and sword, and runs out of her room.
She tears down her corridor, and takes a left, finding a dead end. She turns back the way she came, going right this time, and there are another five doors, with a corridor turning left. She rounds the corner to a door marked with a gray cloud. A bedroom. She knocks, opening the door. “Aradon, I—oh!” she yells in surprise at the elf sitting on the bed in the room.
Long blond hair, messy from sleep. A white, loose shirt, and brown pants, both undone. She shields her eyes from the undressed elf. “Eldowyn! What are you doing here?” she asks from behind her elbow.
He chuckles, pulling off his shirt, his toned body uncovered. “Sleeping.” After a moment of ruffling, he says, “You can look now.” He snickers at the uncomfortable Awyn.
She drops her elbow. Now he’s in a mint green shirt and a proper pair of black pants. A sigh of relief leaves her mouth.
“Seriously, Eldowyn. What are you doing here?” She closes the door behind her as she walks into her friend’s room. “I thought you were at Thasoe with Kaniel?” Eldowyn, unlike Aradon, she thought, hadn’t followed her into the cave.
“I was, but I sensed something was wrong and found the skeleton of that beast in the tunnel you two were in. I found you here,” he says as he ties up his brown soft-leather jacket.
Awyn’s curious about how the cave just…regenerated, but she isn’t going to focus on that at the moment. “So, you didn’t agree with Neodyn either?” she asks.
“I believe that he believes he’s making the right call. And in a way, he is, for the safety of his own country.” He glances at her as if hesitant to tell her more. “But he was angry when you left. He has turned his back on you. He said so himself. Well…not in so many words.” Eldowyn looks at Awyn with sad eyes, and she blinks back tears.
