The Revenge of the Elves

by Gary Alan Wassner

  “I did not mean to question your decision, my dear. These issues are new to me. We have been so far removed from the events of the world until recently, that I’m simply unaware of who is who,” she apologized. “Has Crea spoken to you on behalf of the Lalas?”

  “We have spoken, but he disclosed only facts to me. The decision was mine to make.” Crea revealed so little these days. He seemed troubled and uncertain himself, so unusual for a Chosen.

  “The Dark One is on the march once again?” she asked.

  “Soon, it seems he will be. He is preparing for war and they’re sure Tamarand will be his next victim,” he replied.

  “Robyn dar Tamarand’s home,” she said to herself. “I should have suspected as much. We were concerned he would draw us further into this conflict, were we not?”

  Emerial never trusted Robyn and Whitestar never understood why. Whenever he visited Eleutheria, he spoke to them of great changes and upheavals in the balance, but she dismissed his words. She was busy keeping the peace between her son and his half-sister, managing the rivalry she knew pained Kalon so. And it always escalated when Robyn came to visit. Alemar cleaved to him and he incited her. Kalon came away the loser in her husband’s eyes when the two argued, though he pretended otherwise. She blamed the Chosen from Tamarand for that and he knew it, though she never said so directly.

  “It is not he who foists this upon us. Your distrust is misdirected,” he said, immediately regretting his tone of voice. “Forgive me, Emerial. I forget myself. How can I blame you for echoing my very own beliefs? It was I who taught our people that isolation was acceptable. It was I who kept us apart from my brothers and everyone else,” King Whitestar said, staring hard at the floor. For years he refused to listen, to see what was going on around him. “It was I who engendered mistrust.”

  “And it was both our son and daughter who brought us all back together,” she reminded him.

  Both of them. Not Alemar alone. She told him this often. Too often. “Yes. And may the First never let me forget the sacrifice it took!” the King replied. He let Kalon persuade him to ignore Alemar’s warnings. But in the end, his young son redeemed himself. Though he snuck out of the city in the dead of night without a word of farewell, he fought bravely on the plains of Lormarion and helped secure the victory at Seramour. The blame for his denial belonged to Whitestar alone.

  “I miss him dearly,” Emerial said. She sounded so tired. “Though he was difficult at times, he was my child.”

  “And mine. We can’t fault Kalon for the path he followed. I allowed it, I condoned it and I encouraged it! In my zeal to keep our people safe, I lost sight of the very meaning of the word. It pains me so.”

  “But you discovered it once again, and my son…” she paused. “Our children and soldiers vindicated us in the woods of Lormarion!” she reminded him. “You must stop blaming yourself. It’s not productive, Whitestar. Kalon died saving Alemar. Maybe If not for her…”

  “At what cost was our redemption?” he interrupted. He was so angry still with himself he hardly heard her. “Must we always pay so dearly for our mistakes?” he asked. “I can’t easily forget my own.” The images of Eleutheria melting away to nothing plagued him during his restless nights.

  “Grave mistakes exact like penalties,” she replied.

  “And thus we shall not repeat them! I will never forget the price we all paid for my negligence,” Whitestar said, pounding his fist upon the table. “The trees around the city have grown so dense and impenetrable that they serve us defensively now, as well as any army could. We can send our warriors into the field again, this time for the Baron, without sacrificing our own security. If Caeltin D’Are Agenathea attacks Calipee, Eleutheria’s banners will fly alongside the Baron’s own.” He wouldn’t sit idly by. Not another time.

  Emerial stood behind the King and placed both her hands upon his shoulders as he sat. Bare and sketchy reports had reached them recently regarding his daughter since she departed for Sedahar with her two companions, and though he was informed by his sister- in-law, Elsinestra, that they had succeeded in freeing Premoran from the Dark One’s clutches, he knew nothing of their current whereabouts. It had been only a few weeks since the carrier bird delivered the sad news of Clovis’ demise, and the city still mourned the loss of the courageous soldier. Though he longed for the next appearance of the messengers, he dreaded it as well.

  When he approached the Chosen, Crea spoke little of Alemar and her travels, despite Whitestar’s inquiries, maintaining that she was still deep in the Dark Lord’s territories, and that even the Lalas could gather no significant news, aside from what he already knew. In the meantime, rumors, coupled with these scant facts, fueled Princess Alemar’s godlike image in the eyes of the people of Eleutheria, and her stature now rivaled that of her ancestor, Alicea, the Ice Princess of legend, to whom she was often likened. Yet Whitestar remembered only his daughter. His sweet, headstrong daughter.

  “Are we truly safe, Whitestar?” she asked.

  “As safe as we could be in this world today,” he replied. “No army can penetrate the barrier of trees. It yields only to our entreaties. What better defense could this city have? The ground is once more frozen, and the mountain’s tears no longer flow freely down its sides. The waters have become like stone again.”

  Eleutheria glistened like in the days past, but the walls of the great city were streaked with the frozen scars of battle, a battle with forces armies alone could not defeat. The forests surrounding it rose fearless and formidable, sown from the seeds brought back by his daughter. Seeds that absorbed the heat that threatened to turn Eleutheria into a river of regrets, a river of death.

  “Will the men go willingly to war so soon after the last battle?” Emerial questioned. She stared out the etched windows toward the stockade-like growth surrounding them.

  “Yes. Each of them saw how close we came to utter destruction by pulling in our horns and ignoring what was happening all around us. None wish to err in that manner again. They will go,” he replied, convincingly.

  “Then we should inform them of your decision. I would like the men to have some time with their families and loved ones after they learn of it. They will be the better for it when it comes time to fight. Let them say goodbye before they depart. All mothers should have the chance to say goodbye to their sons…” Emerial said.

  “A wise idea, my dear,” he agreed. “Will you accompany me after the troops are gathered?”

  “Must I? These leave-takings pain me.” She drew away from him.

  “You are their Queen. If Alemar were here then perhaps she…” He paused. “No, it is your duty.” Emerial flushed at the mention of his daughter and he noticed it. “She’ll return to us one day. Do you fear we will lose her too? Is that why it’s so hard for you to see others say goodbye to the ones most dear to them?” He’d hoped her feelings would change about Alemar.

  “He still visits me in my dreams,” she spoke as if Whitestar wasn’t there, as if she hadn’t heard a word he’d just said.

  Kalon again. He was visiting her in her waking hours too these days, Whitestar feared. “You must let go, Emerial. Such sadness is unhealthy. We all have regrets, but they are wasteful. I do not wish to regret my choices any longer,” Whitestar said. “Let your memory of Kalon be a reminder of what one can do, if one chooses! Is it not all about choice after all? The fabric may weave around us, but we set the thread to loom!”

  “Choice? I wonder…”

  “Do you harbor doubts?” Whitestar turned to look at her. She spoke strangely, unlike before Kalon’s death. Laughter had left her eyes the moment her son disappeared and it returned only fleetingly, when she seemed to forget he was truly dead and gone.

  “I’m sorry. What did you ask me?” Her eyes were blank pools.

  “Complacency can only lead to loss. We have learned that already, have we not? But we can’t expect that actions, no matter how right, will be without consequences. They will simply be easie
r to bear by virtue of the rightness of them,” he said.

  “I suppose,” she replied, staring out the window once more into the frozen mounds below.

  Queen Aliya leaned against the stone balustrade of her study and aimlessly watched the people milling in the square below. I should have told him. He had a right to know. Before he left. Before this journey. She shuffled the papers on the table without looking at them. The sun was brilliant this morning, and the air was as crisp and as clear as it had ever been. Why is this so hard for me? He’s my son. He’ll understand… he will understand. Images of Beolan flickered across her mind’s eye, and try as she might, she was unable to bring them into focus. Though the birds chirped and the waters tumbled from Silandre’s mouth, she could scarcely hear them. Castle Crispen bustled with activity but it might as well have been empty altogether. What went on around her was less and less interesting as time passed. She lifted the quill pen and twirled it in her hand. What if he doesn’t return? He’ll never know the truth. Because of me. Because I’m weak. What have I done? she wondered. The pen snapped between her fingers.

  King Bristar walked in to the jingle of the countless rings of silver that adorned his vest. Aliya didn’t turn to greet him.

  “I have come to a decision!” he stated. “We must send however many we can to Tamarand’s aid.” His declaration was greeted with silence. “Did you hear me?” Bristar asked, surprised at her lack of a response. “Have you no thoughts on the subject?”

  She turned to him slowly. “I’m sorry, Bristar, my darling. My mind was elsewhere. What is it you have decided?” she asked.

  “Are you alright, Aliya?” She looked tired. “Have I interrupted you from something?”

  “No. Nothing really,” she replied, but he knew otherwise. “I’m feeling rather melancholy, that’s all. I can’t put my finger upon the reason, but our son is in my thoughts.” She wouldn’t make Bristar suffer for her mistakes. Not now.

  Bristar reached for her arm. “He is in mine as well, but that is not unusual. Maringar is a rugged and loyal companion for him. I rest more easily knowing they’re together,” he replied, though he hadn’t been resting well at all in fact. His sleep was plagued with dreams and visions which he divulged to no one, not even her. “You miss him, Aliya. So do I. That’s natural. There was no one else whom we could entrust with the key, and you know that as well as I do.”

  “I do not regret his leaving on this pursuit. Do not mistake my sadness for doubt. But fear nags at me nonetheless, despite how irrational that may sound,” she tried to explain, but she could not tell him everything.

  “It doesn’t sound irrational at all,” he stroked her arm. “He chose freely to take this charge upon him, though it’s a dangerous and difficult one. The lands he had to pass through and the uncertainty of these times imperil him. They imperil us all. I too have faith in his ability and his prowess,” Bristar said. “And I too fear for him. There is no contradiction in that.” He paused. “Have you more reason to be concerned than you are telling me?” Aliya had the sight of her grandmother. She was prescient and her forebodings sprung from circumstance more than speculation. She didn’t reply. “You do, don’t you?”

  Aliya shook her head and her heavy earrings rang like tolling bells. “Something is bothering me, but I can’t determine what. I know he’s in danger, but that’s not it.” She broke free of his touch and walked toward the hearth. The wood sparked and crackled as the draft sucked the smoke up the flue pipe. “We are all in danger these days. You know, Bristar, that Beolan and I have always shared a special closeness. When he was only a child, I knew when he was hurt or in trouble and I do so now as well. It’s the same for him. You remember that time when I fell from the rock and shattered my elbow? He jumped from his bed, even though he didn’t find out about the accident for hours. Things haven’t changed between us.” I need him to forgive me. My son…

  “I remember,” Bristar replied. This conversation was leading to places he wasn’t anxious to go. “You’re feeling guilty again.”

  “Hush dear. We shall not speak of that now. It’s for me to deal with, not you,” There was no room for negotiation on this matter. It wasn’t his burden to bear. “He is walking into danger and there is nothing I can do about it. I feel helpless. But it’s more than that,” she continued. “It feels almost like frustration, as if a lack of communication or a simple mistake is hindering his progress. Something. I can’t put my finger on it…”

  “There is nothing we can do to help him now. You know that. We must trust his skills will guide him past whatever obstacles lay before him,” he said. Beolan was their only child and heir to the throne of Crispen. Aliya had been unable to conceive again after he was born, and they consoled themselves by believing they loved him too dearly to ever share this love with another.

  “Is there nothing? Nothing at all?”

  “What would you suggest? We only know where he’s headed. We don’t know where he is. And you’re not sure anything serious is wrong. Are you?” he asked.

  “No. I’m not. It’s just a feeling.” She pulled the window closed and the draft made the fire pop and burn. “I’m sorry to bother you with my worries. It’s so unlike me to do that,” she admonished herself. She forced a smile and turned to face him. “Come. Sit with me and tell me again what you have decided. It’s better I focus my thoughts upon more productive endeavors.”

  They walked to the desk that stood in front of a high wall of books and sat beside one another. They often sat here while she read to him. The pair of chairs was always there for them. Aliya’s voice was melodious and sweet and when she read, it sounded to him like singing.

  “You cannot help him now, Aliya,” Bristar said again, taking her hand in his own and squeezing it.

  “Tell me, husband?” she asked, staring at him. “What can our people do to help in areas where we can still be effective? We must assist where we can. We must act.”

  “Tamarand is in peril. Phero arrived here before the sun rose. I met with him an hour or so ago, as soon as I was told of his presence. You left me sleeping, and I assumed you decided to take an early morning walk,” he explained why he had not told her of the Chosen’s visit sooner. His features hardened as he spoke. “It seems Caeltin has bred an army of warriors once again, though this time they are foot soldiers. The Chosen believe he will send it to conquer the Baron’s city. Liam has seen them. The army is vast.”

  “He wishes to flush out Robyn, Chosen of Promanthea, I suspect,” Aliya replied. “He accompanies the heir. What better way to sunder the companionship?” Robyn dar Tamarand was the focus again. So much wove around him and so few knew who he really was.

  “And to hamper the quest,” Bristar concurred.

  “Exactly! Therefore, we must help in any way we can,” she said without hesitation. It became even more paramount to her once she realized what Caeltin was planning.

  “Our city is secure again. The mountain breathes in harmony with Crispen, and the beast is dead. Phero and Relamon agree with my assessment that we are safe here for the time being. What matters most is that the boy be free to move about the land and find the First!” Bristar summed things up.

  “Has he what he requires?” Aliya asked.

  “Not yet, though Phero has reason to believe the 11th shard is secure, and that he will have it soon,” Bristar replied.

  “That is good news indeed,” she sighed with relief. Without the tools, the quest would be futile. “Does he know where the boy is?”

  “If he does, he didn’t tell me,” Bristar said. “And if the Chosen and their trees do not know, perhaps Caeltin does not either.”

  “Thus, he attacks Tamarand in hopes of discovering where they are, as I suspected.”

  “The Baron and his son have never been on the best of terms, or so speak the rumors. The Avalain Princess might have been a better choice for that,” Bristar said.

  “I’ve never put much value on such talk. It can be so hurtful.” What will
they say of me when they find out? What will he say? My son… She blinked away the fear. “Do we really know Robyn? Has he confided in you on his visits here? The responsibilities of the bond weigh heavily upon them all.” Robyn was a mysterious man indeed, even more so than any of the other Chosen she had conversed with in the past. “Besides, rumor has it that Avalain glows with a strange power. Have you not heard?”

  “Yes, in fact Phero confirmed it. And it’s true as well that Talamar is no more! The city has been destroyed and those who survived have flocked to Avalain. Soon after their arrival there, this force descended upon the city.”

  An entire city destroyed, wiped from the earth like a chalk mark from a slate. “The Chosen do not know the origin of this force?” Aliya asked. The Chosen knew less and less these days.

  “No. Phero claims they do not, though I suspect they have some idea,” Bristar replied. “His behavior is strange to me.” Uncertain, unsure. More circumspect than ever. “The Chosen don’t lie, but they don’t tell us everything either.”

  “How odd,” Aliya contemplated. “It can’t be Premoran’s work. Does it protect the city?”

  “He believes so.”

  “Thus Tamarand is the target,” Aliya concluded with certainty. “We must help.”

  “I have ordered the mobilization already. The men will be prepared to march by morning. We can’t allow Caeltin to endanger the Quest. What point to everything else if we do? What point to Beolan’s…”

  “You have made the right choice, Bristar. The Gem must be found or the rest will be for naught,” she agreed, cutting him short. All else will be for naught. Beolan. Her son’s efforts. Her son.