The Tears of Elios

by Crista McHugh

  CHAPTER 11

  Gregor looked up from his writing and admired the necklace that hung from the stack of books at the corner of his desk. The sunlight caught the stone at just the right angle, scattering brilliant blue points of light over the walls. The ritual had worked perfectly, transforming the dull white sepharium into a glowing gem the deep color of lapis. He then set stone in an ornate gold pendant that dangled by a delicate chain.

  He reached out to touch it, hearing the song of the sepharium as his fingers brushed against the cool stone and sent the blue lights dancing around the room once again.

  Would Ranealya be impressed with his accomplishment? She would probably mock his pride in the necklace, saying something like the elves have been making these for centuries, but he would welcome it.

  She filled his thoughts more than he cared to admit these days. Even though she’d been gone for almost two weeks, the memory of her presence still lingered in his study. He closed his eyes and pictured her moving about the room with her catlike grace.

  His jaw grew lax when he opened his eyes. As much as he wanted to deny it, as much as he savored his privacy and hermetic existence prior to finding the wounded shape-shifter in the woods, he missed her. Not her as another being to interact with, but her specifically as a person.

  He frowned and stood, rubbing the stubble on his chin as he moved to the window. Didn’t I decide that it was better to be alone than to risk getting hurt again? Didn’t I swear never to let another woman consume my mind and body? Yet here he was, dwelling on her once again, and it seemed the longer she was gone, the more he thought of her.

  “Forget about her,” he scolded himself. “She's only going to cause you trouble. She's never coming back.”

  “Duke miss deer-not-deer, too,” the dog replied.

  He needed to get out of his room and away from anything that reminded him of her. “Come on, Duke,” he said, waiting for him to escape into the hallway before slamming the door behind them. Together, they pounded down the stairs like rolling thunder.

  “Uh-oh, are you in another one of your moods again, my lord?” Sal asked as he passed the kitchen door.

  He stopped and peered into the bright room. Sal continued to knead the dough in front of her, unaware of his presence in the doorway. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  She looked up, startled by his response for a second before wiping the flour off her hands with her apron. “Begging your pardon, Lord Gregor, but I'd be lying if I didn't say I was a bit worried by your behavior this winter. You’ve become quite moody. There are times you're happy—smiling, eating well, and such—like you were when you were young boy. And then there are times when you’re thumping on the floor, knocking things over, talking to yourself, hardly taking the time to eat or sleep. It's not like you.”

  “It's been a strange winter for me.”

  “I agree with you there, my lord. I was wondering if maybe you need to get away from this place, go visit your mother or brother or—”

  “Sal, I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine,” he said through gritted teeth. The last thing he wanted to do was visit family.

  She squinted at him. “Very well, my lord. Just offering you a thought or two.” She resumed kneading the dough, and he was relieved that the conversation had ended as he left the kitchen.

  As soon as he was outside, the rhythmic plopping of the dripping icicles greeted him. Spring would be here soon. He’d always looked forward to that time of the year as the world slowly changed before his eyes. He gulped the cool, damp air and plunged into the deep quiet of the woods. Nothing stirred except for him and his dog. He stomped through the snowdrifts, clearing his mind with each step. He had been suffocating in his study, but here he was free of her.

  The clouds burned pink and orange by the time he returned to the cottage. The cold air had invigorated him, and he was ready to focus on his work now. He bounded up the stairs, keeping up with Duke, and tossed his cloak in the direction of the bed when he opened the door to the study.

  “You were gone for awhile,” a woman said as soon as he closed the door.

  He snapped his head in the direction of the voice. Ranealya sat on the bed, dressed in his old tunic and pulling his cloak off her face. He struggled to find an apology for her, but his tongue felt clumsy.

  Duke ran towards her and jumped on the bed. “Deer-not-deer back!” He licked her face until she pushed him away and began scratching behind his ears.

  She looked at him with a knowing smile, which only irritated him. “Surprised to see me again?” She folded the cloak beside her and stood.

  “It depends. Are the Azekborn chasing you again?”

  Her laughter sounded bitter, and he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. “They’re always chasing me, but that's not why I'm here.” She stopped a few feet away from him. “I came to see you.”

  He inwardly groaned. He’d just gotten her out of his thoughts, and now she was back again, stinging his mind like a lemon to an open wound. “And why is that?” The tone of his voice surprised him, but why else would she bother with him unless she wanted something?

  Her smile disappeared. “Would you believe me if I said I missed you and your endless parade of questions?”

  Gregor leaned against his desk. Although his mind remained cynical, deep inside he wanted to believe her. After all, he had missed her, too. “Perhaps, if I didn't know you better.”

  A feline grin played upon her lips as she leaned against him. Her breath warmed his cheek, and his heartbeat quickened. She brushed her fingers across his chest, leaving a trail of heat on his skin behind her. Her golden eyes met his, and he knew she was aware of the effect she was having on him. Her lips came within inches of his. “You don't know me half as well as you think you do,” she said with a low growl before pulling away from him and taking a seat at the table by the fireplace.

  She never left his line of sight as Gregor moved in the opposite direction, grateful for the distance between them. He sat behind his desk and waited for his pulse to return to normal. “So, what have you been doing these past two weeks?” he asked, hoping to hide his enthusiasm over her return.

  “The usual—going here and there, never staying in one place very long.” She picked a loose thread off the tunic, her eyes lowered. She added in a childlike voice, “It's nice to have a place where I feel safe and wanted.”

  His resolve melted. As much as he wanted to believe she was like every other woman he had ever known—cruel, self-absorbed, and manipulative—there were times like this when she let her guard down and revealed a much different person lying beneath the furry surface. This was the Ranealya he had come to miss, someone who could understand his soul and the pain of rejection that he was all too aware of. He began to feel sorry for her, imagining what her wandering existence must have been like before she met him.

  She must have noticed his pity because her expression hardened. The huntress had returned. “So, have you found some courage yet?”

  Her barb bounced off him, and he glanced at the necklace. “Perhaps.”

  She scowled. “Why are you suddenly being so vague?”

  He laughed, feeling in control of the situation for once. “I'm undecided at the moment.”

  She stood. “If you're going to play games with me, Gregor, then I'll just leave.”

  He caught her by the arm as she approached the window. A tingle raced up his arm and pooled in his chest. “No, please don't go yet.”

  She regarded him with narrow eyes. Then one brow arched before her body relaxed. “No more games then. There's little time to waste.”

  The urgency in her voice was honest, and he released her arm. “Very well. And to answer your question, I have been thinking about what you said, and—” He gulped, not expecting the answer to come so easily to him in his mind. He hesitated at the idea of verbalizing it. “I would like to help, should the situation present itself,” he finished, taking care in choosing his words.

  H
er eyes glowed with approval, and her smile returned. “I thought you would.” She cupped his chin in her hand and studied him. “That’s why I'm here. I knew you couldn't sit back and allow others to suffer. You're not like other humans.”

  A rush of delight surged through him. “I'm glad to know you think well of me.”

  She released his face. “Tomorrow, I’ll present you with a situation. Then you can make your decision.” She climbed onto the windowsill.

  “Tomorrow? What time? And what kind of situation are you talking about?”

  “Now that's the Gregor I know—full of questions.” She patted him on the nose with her finger, causing his glasses to slide down. “You have to learn to be more patient. This time, tomorrow.” She then pulled the tunic over her head and leapt from the window.

  Gregor held his breath as he watched her fall, but before her body reached the snow, she had already transformed into a golden hawk. She skimmed the surface of the drifts and climbed above the treetops, disappearing from view.

  ***

  Gregor couldn’t focus on anything the next day. He gave little thought to the situation she may be presenting, only that she would be returning. Even Sal commented on his changed demeanor when he alerted her that he would be very hungry for dinner that evening.

  By the time the sun was low in the sky, everything had been prepared in the study. The table was set for two. Dinner simmered near the fire, keeping warm until she arrived. He drummed his fingers on the desk and watched the window for her.

  He wasn’t expecting the shimmering blue veil that appeared in the middle of the room. Magic gathered in his fingertips as he prepared to attack whatever caused it. Two forms materialized—one humanoid and one wolf—as it faded. Gregor immediately recognized Ranealya after she shifted, but the blonde elf beside her was a stranger.

  He remained still and watched Gregor with icy blue eyes while Ranealya donned the tunic. The elf grinned at her behavior and said something to her in Elvish about her bad habits, to which she responded with a wry smile.

  Gregor stood as she moved toward him. “Gregor, I like you to meet Galen, one of the leaders of the Resistance.” She looped her arm through his and pulled him closer to the elf. “Galen, this Gregor Meritis, the human I’ve been telling you about.”

  His chest swelled with pride. So, she been talking to other people about him, and from the tone of her voice, it was mostly praise. He extended his hand at the elf, still very aware of Ranealya's presence by his side. “Pleased to meet you, Galen.”

  Galen shook his hand after a moment’s hesitation. The unrelenting gaze tore through his innermost thoughts as their hands met, and Gregor became uncomfortably aware that Galen was trying to read his thoughts. At last satisfied, the presence retreated from Gregor’s consciousness as he released his hand. “Strange human custom, shaking hands.” He nodded to Ranealya, who released Gregor's arm and knelt to scratch Duke behind the ears. “Pleased to meet you, Gregor.”

  So, I passed inspection.

  “Good,” Ranealya said as she stood between them. “Now that the introductions are finished, I'm going to take a nap. It's been over a week since I've had a decent night's sleep.” She crawled into the bed and pulled the covers over her face.

  Gregor returned his attention to Galen. Overwhelming awkwardness consumed him, which seemed to amuse the elf. In fact, his expression looked similar to Ranealya's when she watched him do something embarrassing. He waved his hand at the table. “Would you care to join me for dinner?” he asked, hoping his disappointment in the change in dining partners wasn’t too obvious.

  “Thank you.” Galen sat at the table and watched Gregor ladle the stew into two bowls. He waited until his meal was in front of him before speaking again. “I've heard some interesting things about you, Gregor Meritis.”

  Gregor’s spoon froze halfway between the bowl and his mouth. “Such as?”

  “Some of what Ranealya has told me, some from other sources. You seem to have quite a reputation among those of us who keep a close watch on the royal family.”

  Gregor dropped his spoon, and his eyes snapped towards the bed. That was one issue he wanted to make sure she never knew about.

  “Don't worry—she's a sound sleeper when she’s this exhausted. She’s spent most of the last two days travelling between me and you. We can talk freely.” Galen continued to eat as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “Interesting, though, that you’ve withheld that information from her.”

  “How do you think she would react if she knew?”

  He pressed his fingers together. “I'm not quite sure.” The cool blue eyes traveled up and down, scrutinizing his host. “I'll leave that to you to reveal to her.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “I am grateful for what you've done for her, though. She's not the easiest person to take care of.”

  Gregor shrugged. “I found her pleasant enough.”

  Galen's gaze lingered on the sleeping shape-shifter. The genuine concern on his face caused a sinking feeling in the pit of Gregor’s stomach. There was something more to their relationship than just being members of the Resistance. It was obvious that they had known each other for many years, but in what way?

  “But I didn't come here to talk about Ranealya.” He leaned forward. “I understand that you're not entirely comfortable with the Clearances.”

  “Of course not! I think it's horrible to try and wipe out entire races. Think of all the lost knowledge.”

  Galen chuckled. “Is that the only reason?”

  Gregor swallowed hard, trying to push the lump out of his throat. “No.”

  “I thought as much.” Galen relaxed in this chair. “Contrary to what Anilayus is publicizing, the Resistance is not about overthrowing the Kingdom and murdering the King. We think the humans should have their own kingdom, if they want, just as we feel we should have our own area of land where we can live without the fear of persecution.”

  There was something in his speech that caught Gregor off guard. Sure, he’d imagined Galen would be charismatic, but he didn’t expect the true sincerity behind the political jargon. “A noble objective, I agree.”

  Galen nodded. “I was hoping I could persuade you to assist us.”

  “How so?”

  “Naturally, with your family connections, I would not dare ask you to do something extremely rebellious. The task I have for you is to help us recover some magical artifacts that are scattered here in Elgeus.”

  This piqued his curiosity, making him forget about his meal. “What kind of artifacts?”

  “With your interest in the elves, I'm sure you've come across the legend of the Tears of Elios.”

  “Are they real?”

  “Very much so.”

  “Unbelievable!” Gregor stood and began pacing in front of the fire. “Is it true that they magnify any spell cast with them?”

  Galen paused before nodding.

  “Remarkable! I would love to see them.” Gregor halted. “But how do you know where to find them?”

  “When you find one, it shows you the location of the others.”

  “If that's the case, how come they're still missing?”

  “Because it’s difficult to decipher the images you are shown.”

  Gregor sat behind his desk and reached for a quill to begin writing all this information down, but a bolt of blue magic turned his feather to cinders.

  “This is not information I would want well known,” Galen warned. “Although I have reason to trust you, I also know that you are human and could easily have this information taken from you by force. Therefore, for your safety, I will not confide their location to you.”

  “Then how am I to find them?”

  “I have shown Ranealya the location of three of the orbs here in Elgeus. She will be your guide. That is, if you choose to assist us.”

  Ranealya would be going with me? A combination of fear and excitement rushed through him, and his pulse raced. Yes, he wanted to spen
d more time with her, but he also knew she had a tendency to attract trouble, namely the Azekborn. He reached for the necklace he created and held the pendant in his hand. Perhaps the spell would be enough to protect them both and keep her from attracting any unwanted attention.

  He was so lost in thought that he’d failed to notice that Galen had gone to the bookshelves and was reading some of the scrolls he had yet to translate. “This is quite a collection you have here.”

  “Yes, I saved them from the Royal Archives. I don't know what all of them are about, but I hated the idea of them being destroyed.”

  “Destroyed?”

  “Anilayus wanted anything that was written in Elvish or Dwarvish burned. From my understanding, he was hoping to destroy some of the old treaties.”

  Galen rolled up one scroll and reached for another. “Very interesting.” His eyes narrowed as he read the scroll in his hand. When he rolled it up, he didn’t replace it on the shelf as he had with the other scrolls. “Do you mind if I take some of them back with me?”

  “Why?” Gregor walked to the shelf, aware of the tightening grip the elf had on the scroll.

  Galen stared at him in defiance. “Some of these scrolls contain dangerous information. Information I wouldn’t want to fall into the wrong hands.”

  “My hands?” He’d saved these scrolls, and now he wanted to know what they contained. If that meant he had to fight Galen for them, then he would.

  “Anyone's hands, human or elvan. This is information that should only be entrusted to the Elders.” His expression softened. “I'm not trying to steal knowledge from you, but there are things from the past that should not be resurrected. Please be satisfied with my explanation and allow me to take this scroll and others like it to a safe place.”

  Gregor clamped his hand over the other end of the scroll. “First tell me what's so special about these scrolls.”