Silevethiel

by Andi O'Connor

  He paused, his mind racing with hundreds of possibilities and suppositions as to what would cause Irewen’s link with the Dame to remain constant.

  “Yet,” he continued. “However strange it may be, your bond to her still remains. You were correct in your earlier statement. She is missing. But she is alive. And the first step we must take to finding her is to discover why her presence is not changing.”

  Irewen nodded, relieved to hear that as long as that link remained, she would at least know Silevethiel was safe.

  “Given that there seems to have been some sort of altercation where Erondelthen’s body was found,” he said, “combined with the fact that you were so distraught, I think it is best to assume there were fluctuations in her presence between the time she went missing and the moment you were able to concentrate fully on the link. Do you agree?”

  “Yes,” Irewen replied firmly. “That is the only time in which I can be certain it was absolutely constant.”

  Silence fell between them. He reached for the goblet, his brow furrowed in concentration. Absentmindedly, he sipped the green liquid, his taste buds finally becoming immune to the unusual flavor. “The fluctuations occur when one experiences different emotions,” he said slowly. “Without that, there would be no change. So what we need to do is think of what she could possibly have done to herself in order to keep her emotions constant.”

  “What about when you are sleeping?” Irewen asked. “Dreaming.”

  He shook his head. “No. Even when dreaming, our subconscious is still affected by the events we see. We can still experience joy, sadness, fear, elation. You would be able to sense her reaction to a dream. But you have given me an idea.”

  “Oh?”

  “I cannot recall experiencing a single dream between the time I fainted and the time I woke,” he explained. “I had no thoughts. No feelings. There was only blackness. What if Silevethiel is unconscious?”

  Irewen’s face went white. As much as she didn’t want to acknowledge that his words could be true, they made perfect sense. Erondelthen had been killed. Silevethiel’s tracks led directly to the area where the scuffle occurred. Assuming there had been fluctuations in her presence before she reached that particular spot, and something happened to force her to lose consciousness, the Dame’s link would have become completely unchanged by the time Irewen regained her awareness and had sense enough to concentrate on its consistency.

  But what had happened?

  That simple question would continue to drive Irewen towards madness. Common sense would suggest the Dame had been hurt during the fight. But nothing was discovered to indicate Silevethiel had participated in the altercation. There was no trace of the lioness, not even a small tuft of white fur. Lord Brandir and the others scrutinized the area so meticulously that Irewen knew returning to the scene would be useless. There was simply nothing left to be found.

  “Calm down, Irewen,” Laegon said, taking hold of her hand. He could see the curtain of anxiety beginning to set in her eyes. “We do not even know if what I suggested is possible. Let me first talk to Brégen before we make any snap judgments. He will be able to relay what he experienced while I was unconscious. Depending on his answer, we can then decide our next course of action.

  “In the meantime, concentrate on Silevethiel’s presence and continue to speak to her. Most importantly, do everything in your power to remain composed and relaxed. Do not lose sight of the hunger for revenge I saw in your eyes when you came to me the other day. Letting your anxiety get the best of you will only make the situation worse.”

  Irewen nodded, her eyes flashing with hard determination. Silevethiel is still alive, she reminded herself, not knowing how much longer that small glint of information would keep her sane. That is all that matters. There is still time. She is alive.

  21

  LAEGON SAT ACROSS FROM IREWEN, CASUALLY SIPPING the foul green concoction. After almost two days of religiously drinking the potion, he had to admit he was becoming used to its thick texture, and rather fond of its taste. As long as he didn’t think of the ingredients that’d actually been mixed together, that is.

  He glanced at Irewen’s frazzled appearance. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from lack of sleep and shed tears. Her fine green gown was a mess of folds and wrinkles. Her hair, knotted and greasy, clung to the sides of her face and hung down her back in a mass of untamed clumps. Though he hadn’t asked, he knew she’d not bathed, slept, or eaten since Silevethiel’s disappearance. Once again, he wished she would heed his advice and eat even a small piece of crújend or a handful of dried berries.

  It wasn’t just him. Many elves visited, attempting to convince her she needed food and rest, but she stubbornly refused to listen to anyone’s advice. Even when Avelindiel took precious time away from her duties to speak with her for the second time, Irewen remained seated in the chair that’d been her home for the past two days. Staring straight ahead. Unmoving. Unseeing. Unfeeling.

  Laegon sighed softly, though he doubted she would hear. He could jump up on his chair, screaming that the room was on fire, and Irewen wouldn’t show the slightest hint of awareness. At first, he’d been rather hurt that she would not even respond to him, but Brégen had quite rightly pointed out he had no reason to judge or become offended by her actions. Of course, the Guardian was right. Laegon could only imagine how he would be acting if he was in her situation. They’d gotten absolutely nowhere in the hunt for Silevethiel. Nearly five days after her disappearance, the Dame remained missing.

  Brégen disproved the theory that there would be no fluctuation in Silevethiel’s presence if she somehow slipped out of consciousness. Though the variations he’d felt during the three days Laegon was unconscious were rare, and exceptionally minuscule, they’d still occurred.

  Irewen vehemently denied Brégen’s suggestion that perhaps she wasn’t yet attuned enough with her abilities to notice the changes, insisting she would know if there was even the tiniest variation. Still, she must have taken his criticism to heart. For it was then that she had gone into her trance-like state. Laegon supposed she was doing absolutely nothing but focusing all of her energy on her link with Silevethiel. Doubling all her efforts to sense a change or make contact with the Dame.

  That, of course, left him and the others with nothing to do but worry over her health and run in circles while they played a game of detective. Erondelthen’s body had been thoroughly examined, and aside from the obvious stabbing injury to his heart, it was ascertained he’d also been poisoned. Laegon had quickly identified it as the same poison found in the cylindrical arrowhead lodged in Irewen’s back. It was quite a common substance and one frequently used by many due to its accessibility and potency. Though it was likely Erondelthen’s murder could be linked to Elthad and the Drulaack, it couldn’t be proven. The poison itself was not enough to place the blame on anyone. Without any other evidence, they could do nothing more.

  Another meeting with the Elven Council, but of course until it could be confirmed that Erondelthen was in cohorts with the enemy, the remaining eleven members refused to reconsider their previous decisions. No amount of debating, intellectual or otherwise, was going to change their minds. The ridiculous and rather asinine preparations for Mistwood’s defense would go on as planned.

  The only thing they amended was Irewen’s time of departure. After agreeing she would be unfit for the journey to Lilendvelle until some grounds were made on Silevethiel’s disappearance, they decided to postpone her quest.

  How generous of them. Laegon sneered, remembering how he’d somehow been able to leave the second meeting more livid than when he’d stormed out of the first.

  Gulping down the rest of the curative potion, he stood, placing the empty goblet on a nearby table as he made his way to the expansive window. Silverden was in complete disarray due to the events of the past couple of days. But gazing upon the normally peaceful streets, things now seemed even more uncharacteristic and bizarre than usual.

 
Colors, though typically vibrant, popped more vividly against the crisp white snow-covered ground, making the elves bustling throughout the town appear much larger than their ordinary size. The white belfir trees, customarily towering giants, seemed to shrink before Laegon’s eyes. The frenzied activity of both elves and Guardians consumed his vision. Involuntarily, he shied away from the window as the massive figures overpowered his senses.

  He closed his eyes, shaking his head to clear his mind. I am either becoming insane, or the potion is finally beginning to affect me. He gasped, spinning around to face Irewen in jubilation. Everything suddenly made sense.

  “That’s it!” he exclaimed. Running to her, he grabbed hold of her shoulders. “Irewen!”

  She started, blinking as she came out of her trance.

  “I have the answer! It was staring us in the face the entire time!”

  Irewen gawked at him in bewilderment, clearly unable to comprehend the reason for his excitement. “What?” she finally managed to ask.

  “I know why you have not detected any change in Silevethiel’s presence. She has been drugged!”

  Irewen jumped out of her chair like a frightened rabbit bolting away from a determined predator. Overcome with weakness, her knees immediately gave way. He caught her in his arms before helping her settle back into the chair.

  “Irewen,” he said sternly, forcing her to hold his gaze. “Forgive me for saying this, but what you are doing is exceptionally irresponsible and unfair to both yourself and Silevethiel. Though you may think otherwise, you are still recovering from your previous mishap. Your body has yet to recover its full strength and what you are now putting it through is frightening and downright reckless. You must eat. And you must rest. My father and I, along with Raina and Brégen, will continue to do everything in our power to find Silevethiel, especially now that I believe I have discovered the explanation for her unresponsiveness. But none of us will be able to do an appropriate enough job if we are continually worried about your health as well.

  “The Elven Council decided to delay your departure for Lilendvelle. Although that is the one thing to which we can all agree upon, it cannot be put off for too much longer. My heart tells me your success on this journey is far more important than any of us yet realize. Despite my insistence otherwise, the members of the Council decreed that you will travel alone. Their ruling has not been changed by recent events. You have to accept the fact that someday soon, you will need to set out for Lündvelle on your own. And you must go whether or not Silevethiel has been found.”

  He waited patiently, searching her vibrant blue eyes until she finally acquiesced, nodding almost imperceptibly.

  “Come,” he said. Scooping her up in his arms, he hid his consternation at her staggering fragility. “You are going to have something to eat. And you are going to rest. And I do not want to hear any arguments. If you continue on this destructive path, it will not matter whether Silevethiel is found. You will not be alive to know the difference.”

  “Drugged?” Brandir was unable to conceal his surprise. “Do you have any evidence to support your claim, or is it merely supposition?”

  Peering intently at his father, the prince shook his head. Though justified, the desperate appeal for proof had sounded rather harsh. But Laegon knew that, in his heart, Brandir realized there could be no other explanation for Silevethiel’s peculiar and unresponsive state. Like him, the Lord of the Wood Elves did not want to believe what reason told him to be true.

  Quite simply, both father and son were frightened.

  “No,” Laegon answered softly. “I have no way of authenticating my theory. There is only my heart to tell me I am right.”

  Brandir’s expression was grave. “Aye. Mine tells me the same. The question we must now ask ourselves is, where do we go from here? What is our next move?”

  “Indeed. We are no closer to finding and rescuing Silevethiel now than we were days ago. Knowing she has been drugged only confirms our earlier assumptions that she faced some sort of adversary in her hunt for Erondelthen— presumably the same person, or persons, who killed the Councilor.”

  “Aye.” Brandir sighed; his shoulders slumped under the weight of frustration and hopelessness. “What puzzles me is that Silevethiel’s captors seem to be completely uninterested in doing her harm. They are keeping her heavily sedated, but that is all. We have not been contacted, nor have we received any demands for ransom. It is as if her captors merely want to use her to lure us away from Silverden and leave our beloved city unprotected and vulnerable.”

  Brandir paused, raising his brow at his son’s skeptical expression. “I see you do not agree with my assessment.”

  “Not completely, no,” Laegon admitted. “Do not forget that a great number of our warriors, yourself included, have already left Silverden in search of the Dame. I cannot think of a time our city would be more vulnerable than when its Lord and most skilled fighters are not here to protect it. Yet, nothing happened. There was, and is, no immediate threat to our people. That being said, I do not think you are far from the truth.”

  “Go on,” Brandir urged, his words slow and drawn.

  The prince breathed deeply, organizing his thoughts as he walked towards the window. Brandir waited patiently, knowing his son would continue when he was ready.

  “For the moment,” Laegon began, suddenly spinning on his heels to face his father, “let us assume the captors are Elthad’s men.” He stopped, waiting for a reply.

  “That theory seems logical enough,” Brandir concurred.

  The prince nodded briskly before continuing, his words coming quickly and earnestly. “At all times, Elthad is able to sense where Irewen is. It is quite a beneficial skill, but it tells him only of the present. Nothing of the future. He is aware she has entered the protective borders of this city. He knows that thus far she has made no move to leave. But using only his bond to her, he cannot know of her plans. As such, he would be totally unaware that soon Irewen will be traveling to Lilendvelle on her own.

  “Now, we can look at this in two ways. Either Elthad truly does not know of her forthcoming journey, and suspects she will continue to seek sanctuary with us, or Erondelthen was Elthad’s spy and informed his men of the Council’s intentions for his cousin. No matter which of those scenarios is accurate, Elthad will have to deploy a considerable number of men to Silverden in order to claim his prize. Even with our failing magic, it will take a great force to breech our defenses. Whether Irewen stays in Mistwood or joins the Light Elves in Lündvelle, a significant and costly battle will take place in Silverden.”

  “And?” Brandir took advantage of Laegon’s short pause to urge his son to get to his point.

  “What if, by capturing Silevethiel, Elthad is not trying to lure a large group of us away from the city? Perhaps he is instead using the Dame to lead one particular person into his deadly clutches.”

  The lord’s voice came out in a harsh whisper. “Irewen.”

  Laegon simply nodded, his dark eyes boring into his father. “It is Irewen he wants dead. What could be easier and more efficient than using her Guardian as bait? Since Silevethiel’s absence, Irewen has become weak and exceptionally vulnerable, both mentally and physically. Elthad knows this. He knows that taking away the only one who can give her constant assurance and protection would drive her mad. By sending his men to capture Silevethiel, he was counting on that to force her to act irrationally. You have seen what it has done to her. Though she did not act in the way he desired by recklessly running into the wild in pursuit of the lioness, Elthad was right. It is driving her mad.”

  “Aye,” Brandir agreed solemnly. “And you cannot blame her. Who is to say we would act any differently? We should be thankful Irewen did not do as her cousin hoped.”

  “Indeed. If she had run off in search of the Dame, our situation would be even direr than it currently is.”

  “What I do not understand,” Brandir mused, “is how Silevethiel allowed herself to be caught in su
ch a perilous trap. Surely she would have sensed some form of danger and would have transmitted it to Irewen or one of the other Guardians. It seems she ran directly into the enemy. How could she have been so oblivious of her surroundings? She would have heard raised voices or the sounds of the struggle with Erondelthen. She would have smelled the blood and picked up the scent of the Councilor’s attackers. Every Guardian, no matter their level of skill, would have been able to realize they were in danger.”

  “I agree. It is extremely uncharacteristic of her to do something so careless. And while I can speculate, I cannot give you a definitive answer. Perhaps she did drop her shields enough to warn Irewen of the danger, but the princess was too inexperienced to notice or understand. Perhaps the Dame wanted Erondelthen alive so he would talk and concluded that there was not time to send for help before she intervened. Perhaps she did not think the enemy was so great in number, or perhaps she simply figured it was a band of hunters or brigands from Grelden, which she would have been able to handle with ease. Whatever the reason, I believe the drug was administered at a distance. Perhaps through an arrow.”

  “Similar to the method used to poison Irewen?”

  “Aye” Laegon confirmed. “Almost identical, actually. I would imagine that the only difference with the arrow used on Silevethiel is that the arrowhead itself was shorter so as not to cause her any real harm. Remember, the enemy did not want to kill her or cause a serious injury. They simply wanted to force her into an unconscious state quickly and without putting themselves in any danger. With a shorter cylinder, they would not pierce any organs if they missed hitting a less detrimental part of her body, such as her legs or shoulders.”