“Oh, there is nothing special about the fact that your horse took to me. All animals seem to like me. Most of the horses in the village gentle to my touch. My uncle is the village blacksmith, and I’ve spent most of my life around horses of all breeds and dispositions. Actually, my most difficult challenge was with my mare Gemma, who refused all my attempts to become friends for over a season. But we worked things out and she is now my best friend and constant companion, like Raffe is yours. We go everywhere together. In fact, if she were not locked in a stall, she would probably be nosing around us right now; she always seems to know how to find me.”
Thane could sense her relax as she continued to stroke Raffe’s neck and spoke of her own horse. He was sure that talking about something familiar was helping her to relax, although why Raffe was tolerating it, was beyond his comprehension. Thane felt sure that Raffe could understand what Elwyn was saying and feeling, and was being tolerant because he realized that she knew no better.
“Our mounts aren’t really horses, although they are closely related to them. They are a similar breed of animal known as morden. The original breeders of the morden are the Amarani of Urafiki. They are a nation of people that live further down the coast, than Port Strabo. They are a large race, and it takes an animal as large as a morden to carry them about. The morden come in many colors like their equine relatives, but the stallions with the purest bloodlines are black, while the purest of the mares are snowy white. Most of the morden you see among us are stallions. The only time a mare rides in battle is when one of our females feels led to ride with the army; and that is not very often.”
“So your people are against woman using their physical skills too. That is true in my village as well. Our elder believes that a woman is only fit to keep a house and bear children.”
“No, no, Elwyn, that isn’t what I meant at all. Obviously I didn’t explain myself clearly. Our young women are schooled and trained right alongside our young men and both are equally welcomed into any profession, including the military if they choose to serve. In fact, there is a woman among us today searching for the rest of Crawley’s men. It isn’t that our women don’t fight to defend our land, but they are far better archers than most of our men. Women are often found as snipers and in other elevated positions that provide them with the best vantage point from which to fight, rather than mounted close to the ground on morden or horses.
What makes morden so different from horses is that they choose their riders. It is not the other way around, so not all of us ride them. Many of us are mounted on well bred war horses.”
“You mean your hors…, I mean morden choose you? How do they do that?”
“When a morden is ready to choose a rider, there is a person in our society known as a Companionkeeper who organizes a Choosing. It is a ceremony and all unbonded riders are welcome to attend. We actually present ourselves to the morden during this time, hoping to be chosen.”
“I’m surprised that your people put such significance in what they ride. What makes the Morden so special?”
“There is much more to a morden than meets the eye. The morden have a life-span much longer than a human. And when a rider is chosen by a morden, the two form a life-bond. This bond allows for an exchange of feelings and knowledge with a minimum of interaction. The bond remains unbroken until one of them dies. We also believe that the morden can understand everything that we say and often respond to us based on what we say to them.
Another amazing thing about the morden is that they never have to be trained to carry a rider. After the Choosing, somehow the morden just know what is expected of them. The morden only seem to choose companions of the same gender though. We think that they choose that way because of the laws of their society, but I’m not sure that anyone’s asked them, for fear of insulting them. Unfortunately some morden never chose a rider. It can be a sad thing to attend a Choosing and see the same morden there time after time never choosing anyone; it’s almost like one of us searching for seasons, but failing to ever find our soul mate.”
“Well that sounds pretty sad for the ones that don’t ever find the companions they seek. I can see though why the bond they form and the fact that they live so long, makes them somewhat different from regular horses.”
“There are actually many more reasons than that. It’s just that most of them are a bit more subtle. For example, the rules of their society are also very different. I’m sure you know that horses live in a male dominated society, ruled over by a head stallion that makes all of the decisions, and mates with any mare of his choosing. There is also only one stallion per herd and he will fight any other male that enters his territory; to the death if need be.
Morden, on the other hand, are a matriarchal society with a head mare that oversees the herd. Mares and stallions live together in harmony, and stallions seek permission to mate with a mare of their choosing, and honor her decision on that matter. The morden are considered honored and respected citizens of Silvendil, much like the drakenhawks, and we always try to honor their traditions.”
“Is that a drakenhawk sitting up in the tree over there staring so rudely at me? It is certainly a strange looking creature.” she said, pointing to Keroc, who was looking down at them from a sturdy overhead branch.
“I would be careful not to ever address a drakenhawk like a dumb animal, or to insult one if I were you. They are among the wisest and fiercest creatures in the Known Lands and, like the morden, serve us only by their choosing. My people believe they are descended from ancient dragons, now believed extinct, that lived in the Unknown Lands. The drakenhawk sitting up in the tree over there is Keroc. You should be very grateful to him. He is Ayron’s companion and killed the man who so viciously attacked your uncle today as well as the two assassins who just attacked you.”
“That is enough to make him my friend for life,” Elwyn said, giving Keroc a salute of respect.” A sudden feeling of warmth and humor came over her, and she could have sworn that Keroc bowed his head slightly in her direction. Curious, she asked Thane to tell her more.
“Drakenhawks live among us as one of the races of Silvendil. They do have their own societal rules, however. Normally they are ruled over by a king and queen, a pair mated for life. Unfortunately, the male member of our ruling couple lost his life a few seasons ago defending his companion, so unless the queen chooses another consort, she will reign alone until she passes on.”
“Why don’t you just ask her to take another mate? Most of the widows and widowers in our village marry again, except for Clayre and my uncle of course.”
“We have no idea what is best for their society. Their queen is a far better judge of what her people need than we could ever be. Our leaders feel it is wise to honor her decision. Also, we are not totally sure that she would listen to our advice. As far as we know, she limits her communications and her attentions solely to other drakenhawks. While I am fairly certain that the queen can understand everything we say, we have no way to communicate directly with her. As far as I am aware, no female drakenhawk has ever life-bonded with a member of another race. ”
“Do all drakenhawks look like Keroc? He is beautiful. His skin is very dark and shiny and it looks as if there are black gems embedded in places on his body.”
“Male drakenhawks like Keroc are all a glossy blue-black in color, with their wings, ridges, talons, and spines often appearing bright and shiny like jewels. Females, on the other hand, are a brilliant cobalt blue and their wings, ridges, talons, and spines often shimmer as if encrusted with translucent gems. The only place you can find feathers is on the back of his head. The ridges you see on top of his head form a ring that resembles a crown. The ridges then join together in the back and run down the length of his body. His tail can function as a weapon, but is normally curled around his feet when he is at rest.”
Thane sighed as he described just how amazingly beautiful drakenhawks were to behold, and how watching them in flight was like seeing nature at its most glo
rious. He grew more serious as he explained that seeing them attack an enemy was like seeing nature at its most ferocious. “A fully grown drakenhawk can tear the throat of an enemy open with one swipe of its talon.”
“Earlier you mentioned that Keroc was Ayron’s companion. So is it correct to assume that drakenhawks bond with your people just like the morden do?”
“Like the morden, drakenhawks have a very long lifespan and some of them chose people as partners and create life-bonds with them. A drakenhawk choosing is similar to that of the morden and is also overseen by our Companionkeeper.
What makes drakenhawks so special, besides their incredible fighting ability, is that they are able to transmit the images they see directly into the mind of their companion. We often use them as scouts, because they can fly higher than the range of an arrow and are able to warn their companion, as well as the other troops, what lies ahead. To my knowledge, only the male drakenhawks have chosen to life-bond with my people. And as far as I am aware, those chosen have all been male.”
“Why do you think that the female drakenhawks don’t life-bond with the females in your society?”
“To be honest, we aren’t entirely sure. It has happened only once in the history of our people and that was in a time of great hardship. The drakenhawks are much fewer in number than the morden and their numbers seem to be decreasing a little with each passing season. The females seem to lay fewer eggs, and some lay none at all. Perhaps the reason they do not life-bond is that they are trying to increase their numbers. Something else that we find unusual is that no male drakenhawk has ever communicated with a female member of our society.”
She turned briefly to glance up at Keroc who still sat on a branch up in the same tree looking down at them with a blank expression. “I’m not so sure that is true,” she said to herself, thoughtfully. Again, she thought she saw Keroc give her a slight nod of his head and close one eye as if to wink.
“We look upon the fact that drakenhawks don’t communicate with women as a definite disadvantage, but no one has been able to determine why this is so. Our companionkeeper thinks that it would be inappropriate of us to ask the drakenhawk queen for an explanation.
I go each season to the Choosing ceremony hoping that someday a drakenhawk will chose me as a companion. I would give almost anything to be life-bonded to one of these magnificent creatures,” Thane sighed, looking up wistfully at Keroc who was sitting quietly in the tree.
While Elwyn enjoyed her conversation with Thane, it only provided a temporary distraction from the problems at hand. Her patience was at an end. She moved away from Raffe and headed for the path leading back toward the village square. This brought loud protests from Thane, who had been given strict instructions to keep her in the outcropping of trees, and Keroc, who began screeching loudly and flapping his wings noisily. Raffe also joined in by prancing in front of her trying to block her way, while snorting, and shaking his head. Thane was loath to have to drag her back by force, and was attempting to plead with her to wait just a short while longer. In the midst of all the confusion Elwyn got the sensation that Ayron was returning. Within seconds, he rounded the bend on Gerrack and came into view.
Chapter 8 – Shared Truths
As Ayron jumped down from his horse, Elwyn turned and walked toward him switching the focus of her anger from Thane to him.
“It’s about time you got back,” she shouted rage emanating from every word. “I’ve been waiting here for at least an hour and I don’t intend to wait one minute longer. Take me to where you are holding my uncle now or I’ll find him myself.”
“Your uncle lives, Elwyn. The dagger has been removed from his chest and he is resting.” Ayron hoped that his words would provide enough comfort that she would stay and listen to him without trying to run off. “I need you to be patient a little bit longer and listen to what I have to say. Your uncle, Clayre, and I have been together and come up with a plan to ensure that you will all be safe and together again, but first I need you to quiet down and listen to me.”
“Why should I listen to you? You are a stranger to me. You dragged me away from my uncle’s side when he needed me most. And worse, your man and that creature have held me captive for the past hour. You said I would be safe here and two men have already tried to kill me. I don’t know any reason why I should trust you.” Elwyn said shaking and sobbing, with tears streaming down her face. “I want to see my uncle right now!”
“Elwyn”, Ayron said as gently as possible reaching out to pull her close. “I know this is very difficult for you, but your life and the lives of your uncle and Clayre are still in danger. I need you to calm down and listen. If you don’t, we may all be dead in the next day or two. If you insist upon being unreasonable, I will be forced to restrain you here until Clayre arrives. I really don’t want to do that, so please settle down. Clayre will be here shortly with your things.”
“What do you mean my things,” she cried, abruptly pulling away from him. I am not going anywhere but to my uncle. Why is my family even listening to you?” She screamed, backing away from Ayron until her momentum was stopped by a broken branch from a tree trunk that dug into the back of her blouse.
Ayron knew she was becoming too upset to be reasonable. So he decided that sharing some of the truth with her was his best chance to win her over. If he failed, it would be up to Clayre to convince her.
“Elwyn, your uncle Rhys has known me for many seasons. I am your father’s brother, and therefore also your uncle. I had no knowledge of your existence until I came here to the village today. Look at the color of your eyes, your tapered ears, and your pale skin. They are just like mine. You are only half human; your unique features come from the half of you that is elven. You get those features from your father. It is only your red hair, and perhaps your temper, that are like your mother.”
“Do not insult my mother.” she shouted, waving her hand threateningly in Ayron’s direction.”
Ayron laughed, knowing that he had finally captured her attention. “Elwyn, I would never do that. I loved your mother very much, and respected her as well. She was a kind and compassionate woman and more a sister to me than my own blood-sibling. But I can tell you truthfully, that she did have a fiery temper to match her beautiful flame colored hair.”
Ayron could see that he had struck a chord with her. She grew very quiet and he knew she was thinking.
Then she asked, almost too quietly to be heard, “Are you really my uncle? Why has my uncle Rhys never mentioned you? Is my father dead?”
Ayron found he was speechless for the third time that day. “Was it possible that Rhys never mentioned Azavon, or Silvendil?” he thought to himself. “This child has absolutely no idea who she is.” His heart went out to her when he realized how difficult her childhood must have been; not knowing either of her parents, or why she appeared so different from everyone else around her.
“Elwyn, your mother Rhianna was married to my brother Azavon, ruler of Silvendil, a land to the north. During the time your mother was pregnant with you, your father and I had to go and negotiate a peace treaty with Grimsfyne, a land to our north. When we arrived home, we were told she died before giving birth to you. There is a grave in our capital city of Findara where she was supposed to have been buried and a burial marker with her name on it. We thought your mother was dead and you had never been born. To answer your question, your father is very much alive, and to this day is still in mourning for his wife and unborn child. If he had any knowledge you were alive, he would have turned the world upside down trying to reach you.” Ayron stopped to catch his breath and contain his emotions.
“I know only that my mother arrived here shortly before giving birth to me, and then died of an illness that swept through our village about a month later,” said Elwyn thoughtfully. “My uncle Rhys lost his wife, Alyssa, and their unborn child as well. Clayre also lost her husband to that same illness. I know very little about that time. It upsets my uncle to speak of it.”
/> Elwyn turned her face toward Ayron and spoke softly with a calmness she did not feel. “Your man here keeps telling me that a King Stefan is determined to see both my uncle and me dead. Why is that so?”
Ayron knew that it was time for him to share some harsh and shocking truths with her if he had any hope of winning her confidence. These were truths that should have come from Rhys, but in his condition he wasn’t able to tell them and Elwyn needed to hear them now. “The king of the land known as Avrelan is a blood sworn enemy of your uncle, your mother, and any of their descendants. Stefan, the king of Avrelan, had the entire royal family assassinated when he usurped the throne in that land almost twenty seasons ago. Your mother and your uncle were a part of that family. They were about your age when this occurred. They escaped and he has been unable to find them, until now. Somehow he has become aware of your uncle’s presence here in Tarlon. I believe that he has also recently become aware of your presence and has figured out who you are. You are the person who should rightfully be sitting on the throne of Avrelan; with your uncle Rhys next in line if something were to happen to you. In other words, the fact that you both live presents a constant threat to his rule. The men that came to your village today were here to assassinate the two of you. Stefan is relentless, and will not stop until he kills you both. As long as either of you remain here you are in peril because he will keep sending more men. If you are not here, his men will try to track you down. It is imperative that we act quickly to get you and your uncle to safety, somewhere beyond Stefan’s reach.”
Ayron’s heart went out to the frightened, unhappy young woman standing before him. “I know that all of this is a lot for you to take in right now. I promise you that when we have more time, I will be happy to share anything you want to know about your mother, your father, or our people. Unfortunately right now we have no time for questions and answers. I have some things I need to say to you so that you will be ready for Clayre when she arrives.” Ayron focused on the plan, drawing himself back into the role of soldier instead of uncle.
Origin Page 7
