As the wedding began, beautiful elven music sounded harmoniously from both stringed and wind instruments, swelling throughout the acoustics of the great hall. The ceremonial participants preceded the bride and groom into the hall in a stately procession.
Elec watched as the wedding party reached the beautifully carved platform at the front and took their places. The dais was adorned with brightly hued fabrics in reds, blues, greens and yellows, crafted by the finest artisans of Wothlondia. Ivory, tan and even gold and silver candles were on display and mirrored by the three ornamental candelabra that surrounded the platform upon which they now stood. It was truly a magnificent and breathtaking sight.
Elec watched Jhaeronas staring at one of the candelabra directly above the elven couple. He must have sensed Elec’s gaze because he turned to regard him with a wild-eyed stare before reverting his eyes to the flickering candles. He began to wave his hands wildly above the crowd. Not a soul amongst the audience caught the display as the entire throng was transfixed by the ceremony. Not even Anthalion’s kin, stationed at the opposite side of the balcony, took note of Jhaeronas’ gyrations and gestures.
Elec was completely unsure what his friend was doing, but instinctively decided that it was not well intended. He quickly began to counter the spell with a simple magic meant to ‘shackle’ the target’s arms. In this case it would interrupt Jhaeronas’ spell casting at the very least, leaving Elec to confront him about his intent later. He waggled his fingers and mouthed the incantation, willing the effects of the spell into the central plane as he’d been taught many times. But, as on many of those prior occasions, Elec realized with horror that he had failed once more to bring the powers of Arcana into being—had failed once more to cast the required spell as it fizzled into nothingness. Before he could chastise himself about it, Jhaeronas was at the end of his incantation. Elec’s heart hammered in his chest as time seemed to slow to a crawl.
He watched helplessly as a minute bolt of arcane energy traversed the hall, hitting the heavy chain that fastened the candelabra above his sister and Anthalion. Elec screamed at Jhaeronas, infuriated that his friend could do something so dishonorable—and to his sister of all people. As the call echoed through the expansive hall, all eyes were diverted from the couple and turned to the source of the outburst, landing upon Elec. All eyes but Anthalion’s, that is.
Anthalion reflexively shoved his bride out of the way as the heavy wooden fixture came to a stop upon his slender frame. As its weight landed squarely on his back, he winced and yelped in pain. Aeona fell awkwardly from the dais upon which they stood, twisting her ankle and hitting the stone floor.
The assembled spectators missed the commotion at the front of the hall as they had all turned to face the balcony at the rear. The guests whirled once more when they heard the sound of the candelabra bursting into countless pieces on the body of the hapless would-be groom.
Suddenly, Keryth uttered a spell called Hand of Fate. An arcane form shivered into view, taking shape as the hand of the elven gods, summoned from the plane of Arcana. The massive thing enveloped Jhaeronas within its mighty grasp. It yanked him from his perch atop the balcony, lifting him into the air and holding him helplessly before it as the crowd parted. Several other mages began to prepare spells to aid Keryth if necessary, not knowing exactly what was happening.
Keryth’s face was a mask of rage as he commanded the magical conjuration expertly, suspending the helpless Jhaeronas aloft.
“How… dare you!” Keryth thundered. Jhaeronas remained silent and more of the throng backed away from the furious Keryth. Several rushed to help the fallen lovers at the front of the hall, including Alaise.
Elec watched dumbfounded. He was rooted in place, though not from any magical effect—he was frozen in shock at the recent events. He watched as some officials ran to assist Keryth, coaxing him into releasing Jhaeronas from his spell and then grabbing the limp elf as he was freed. The punishment for such a crime against his people was exile, Elec knew. Jhaeronas would no longer be welcome within any of the areas on Acillia and, if he were to return, it would be under penalty of death. The elves escorted Jhaeronas away unceremoniously. He managed to glance up toward Elec, who noted a distant look in his former friend’s tear-soaked eyes. But just for an instant though, he came to himself, and pitifully mouthed the words, “I’m sorry”.
After Jhaeronas was taken away, Aeona was helped to her feet and divine healing was given to Anthalion by one of the elder priestesses of The Dreamer. She knelt at the groom’s side wearing the familiar stars and half-moons raiment of her goddess. She channeled radiant healing energy into Anthalion’s body, closing the worst of the wound and attempting to mend the broken bones he’d surely sustained near his ribcage, where the brunt of the candelabra’s blow was first absorbed.
Elec descended the spiral staircase from the balcony and joined his mother and sister, lending them support. Keryth scanned the chaotic scene and then pulled Elec away from the rest of the family to stand near the center of the hall. Faorath slowly followed them and purposely eavesdropped on the conversation.
“What happened?” Keryth asked, hands on hips, staring into Elec’s exotic eyes in an attempt to discern the truth.
“I—I saw him moving to…,” he stammered, looking down at the floor then back up to his father. “He began casting a spell and I tried, but I… I wasn’t able to stop him,” Elec admitted in defeat, once more feeling overtly inadequate and strangely guilty under the scrutinizing stare of his father.
“So, you could have stopped him if you were even half the mage that your namesake suggests?” Keryth said mockingly, jabbing at his already sensitive frame of mind.
“Keryth, you have no—“
“This… is of no concern to you, Faorath!” Keryth barked in response to the interruption by his brother-in-law. “If Elec were your own flesh and blood, then you could handle it your own way.”
“He is my flesh and blood,” Faorath countered in a quieter tone as several of the crowd turned their attention on the quarrel. Keryth’s stare fell this time on Faorath, as if daring him to speak again. A moment passed as the two of them locked eyes but spoke no words. Faorath held his ground, though, and did not move away.
Keryth returned his attention to his son once more. Elec kept his head down and his shamed gaze upon the floor while his father crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in disgust. But, before he could further humiliate him, Alaise, wide-eyed, grabbed Keryth by the arm.
“Please! Not here and not now! We have more important business to attend to,” she whispered to her husband, indicating the fallen Anthalion.
“This is not over,” Keryth said, directing his comment to Elec and then turning to Faorath and adding, “you, too.” Faorath stared him down once more and then looked sympathetically to his nephew.
“It is not your fault, lad.” Faorath laid a reassuring hand upon his nephew’s shoulder. He spoke the words with conviction to Elec, as if they were fact and not opinion.
While they were speaking, much of the crowd dispersed. However, some elves remained to help where they could in cleaning up the now postponed ceremony. Elec could see the priestess of The Dreamer still chanting prayers and administering magical aid to Anthalion.
Faorath and Elec both neared the dais, Elec moving closer to his mother and sister. It appeared that Anthalion was almost fully healed. He complained of a pain that still lingered in his ribcage, but the wound was closed and there was no sign of injury beneath the tunic, now blood-soaked, that he’d worn for the ceremony.
His father spoke no further to Elec, but despite what had happened to them, Aeona and Anthalion both offered him words of support. None of it made him feel better, however, and he joined in the clearing the hall before retiring somberly to his room for the evening.
The next day, Elec set to task, working the springs and latches of a mechanism occasionally, while working his alchemical solutions, barely eating or speaking to anyone else.
His mother finally entered his room late that evening.
“You are not eating,” she declared, holding out a plate of food. Upon closer inspection, Elec recognized it as his favorite—scrambled giant eagle eggs with a side of boar meat. He could not help but smile at his mother in appreciation at her attempt at quelling his dour mood.
He began to nibble at the food while Alaise sat close by silently, simply watching him as he ate.
“I should have stopped him,” Elec finally managed, after consuming his entire plate.
“No one blames you for it,” Alaise responded. She moved across to be near Elec at his workspace, which was inundated with countless texts and scrolls. “If anyone should be blamed, it should be me.” Elec scrunched his face, wearing a perplexed expression at hearing this strange admission from his mother. “I invited him,” she said as evidence, violet eyes wide and hands outstretched. “Along the lines of your thinking, I should be the one held responsible,” she added after a pause. “Right?”
“Of course n—“
“Well, then I think I have made my point,” she interrupted. “You are no more to blame for what happened than I or anyone else who was at the ceremony.”
Elec nodded as she finished voicing her observation. Suddenly, the door opened wide. Keryth stood there in his bright red robes. The ornate golden stitching all over the arms and chest added to the regality of his stature.
“The people have mixed feelings as to how much blame they are assigning our son,” he announced bluntly. “Murmurs abound as to what could have—and should have—been done!”
“Keryth!” Alaise admonished, glaring at her husband.
“Hold your tongue, woman!” He returned her stare a hundred-fold. “This news reflects on our family in a negative light! The elders and mages are speaking of what happened and are telling the tale as they saw it—that Elec could have stopped the incident but failed to do so.” Keryth turned his scalding gaze upon his son now. “He failed to enact a single spell. He failed to stop that fool Jhaeronas from injuring Anthalion. And it could have been worse!”
“Why do they blame Elec?” Alaise asked in all seriousness.
“Because it is obvious to them all that he—and he alone—had the ability to stop Jhaeronas from finishing his spell since he was the one nearest,” Keryth explained. Then he spun on his heel and left the room in a huff.
“He is right, you know,” Elec admitted after a few moments of silence. “I could have stopped him, if only….”
Alaise said nothing and instead gave Elec a hug that seemed to last for hours.
Morning came once more and the passing of time did nothing to quell the guilt that Elec felt. He approached his alchemy that morning with passion unparalleled, diving into his work in order to forget about his problems. The hours passed and he continued mixing and testing elixirs, theorizing about different effects based on his findings.
Faorath entered his nephew’s workspace and found Elec engrossed in his work. He moved into view, startling Elec and nearly causing him to drop his latest potion, but fortunately he snatched it back in a flash.
“You have good reflexes,” Faorath proffered, nodding to Elec and watching him as he pushed aside a curly strand of dark hair from in front of his eyes.
“Thank you, uncle,” Elec answered, still focused on his experiments. When he finally managed to look up, he witnessed his uncle exploring the contents of his bookcase, which was filled with texts on the topics of magic and science.
“I wrote this one, you know,” Faorath informed him, pulling one tome in particular from the shelf. It was a book explaining the training and handling of exotic magical beasts.
“Yes, and it is something that I want to discuss with you,” Elec admitted. “I would like to train as a Wind Rider.” Faorath’s amber eyes widened at this revelation.
“Your father—“
“Would be more than happy to be rid of me,” Elec finished the sentence for him. “I would no longer be a disappointment to the family and this would perhaps free my mind from the torment of spellcasting.”
Faorath stood silent for several moments and then nodded his affirmation. “Very well, I will approach your father on the subject.” He smiled a wide grin in appreciation of Elec’s decision as he strode to the exit.
When Faorath returned over an hour later, he found Elec once more deep in study, but this time he was reading the book his uncle had written. Elec looked up from the thick tome and smiled, nodding a greeting.
“I have read this book at least seven times,” Elec disclosed. “I have always wondered what it would be like to fly above the trees and into the clouds, to discover what Wothlondia and even all of Krotto has to offer in the ways of nature’s beauty.”
“It did not take much convincing for your father to agree to this,” Faorath stated bluntly as he stood with his hands on his hips. “He feels that if he presents this news to the elders, it will assuage their doubts and help his standing to remain as it was—‘unblemished’ was the word he used, I believe. No matter, Stormwhisper has been a powerful name in the family of high elven mages over thousands of years, as you are reminded each day.”
“Aye,” Elec agreed. “I feel that if I had been something of a real Stormwhisper mage, I could have stopped Jhaeronas.”
“You are a real Stormwhisper, Elec. Do not doubt this. Just because you do not show an aptitude for manipulating the powers of Arcana does not make you any less a family member.”
“That is not what my father says,” Elec refuted. “My sister and brother and all of the Stormwhispers before them were able to do this. I do not understand why I cannot.” Elec peered into a mirror. “I even look different than all of my family,” he added, twirling a lock of his dark hair in his fingers, then flicking it away in disgust. “I have dark hair and my eyes are unlike those of any of my kin. I have never seen another high elf with features such as mine!”
“Your masteries lie elsewhere. That is quite obvious,” Faorath offered, waving a hand over the workspace. “You are quite a remarkable alchemist, as well as an expert in the ways of mechanics. As for your features, you are exotic, yes, but it adds to your unique character. It does not detract from anything you do, nor does it define you. You will do well to remember that.”
Faorath headed to the door, pulled the handle and swung it wide open. “Come to me when you are ready to begin your training.”
Elec watched the door close behind him and returned to his book. But try as he might, this time he could not digest the words, for his mind was elsewhere.
The Wind Riders’ station was several miles away and up the side of a large mountain. The Wind Riders used the caverns as well as the summit of the wide peak to train their apprentices. This venue also provided the magical beasts a place to make their homes. Elec could not wait to see it up close.
As he made his way through the village, he could not help but overhear some of the elves making mention of the failed wedding and his failures in the events there. Most of it was rumor, but it added another dimension to his humiliation as he heard many accusatory and damning opinions of his actions—or lack thereof. He began to run toward the pathways that would lead him to the top of the mountain and to his uncle. He did not look back or stop once along the entire two mile trail.
“Glad you could make it,” Faorath greeted him when Elec reached the top of the trail. Faorath sat atop a griffon. Elec stepped back as the creature advanced toward him.
“Do not be frightened, for they can sense fear and it tends to make them aggressive,” Faorath advised his nephew, tying his golden mane into a pony tail.
This time Elec calmly and confidently approached the creature and patted its head and beak, admiring also the leonine musculature that made up its hindquarters.
“This will be your mount with which to train,” Faorath informed him with a wave of his hand. Elec turned to regard one of the Wind Riders leading a giant eagle down from the crest of the mountain top. “If things go well
, you will not only become its master, but you will also befriend the creature.”
Elec was handed the reins of the leather harness that was strapped around the beast’s head and midsection. The giant eagle did not even resist when Elec took them. It simply stood still as if waiting for its passenger to climb aboard, and Elec did so, slowly and carefully.
“Freedoms abound for you now,” Faorath stated to Elec, turning his griffon toward the edge of the nearest cliff face. He looked back at Elec and then gestured for him to follow. “You read my book, now act on it.”
Elec grabbed the reins tightly and patted the eagle on the side, then whispered, “Let us take this journey together, friend.” The giant eagle walked after the griffon, ending up directly to the left of Faorath. With a flapping of their mighty wings, both magical creatures took to the air. Elec swallowed hard as he lurched forward. He was in awe as the eagle ascended into the sky, following the griffon. They flew for several miles before turning back to eventually land atop the crest of the mountain once again. It was magnificent, thought Elec. He could not quell the boyish excitement gushing forth as he smiled wide. He stroked the giant eagle on its beak and head. The magical creature seemed to survey him before turning its head forward once more. Elec raised an eyebrow at that.
They repeated the route several times over and Elec felt a greater command with each flap of the eagle’s wings. They landed after the twelfth such trip. Faorath stopped him for a moment, commanding his griffon to stand next to Elec.
“You must give the bird a name,” Faorath instructed, caressing the head of his own mount. Elec thought about this for a few moments, then looked to the sky with a smile.
“Adok.” It was the ancient elven word for grace.
“Very well, let us take Adok on a longer journey and, before the end of this day, you will feel as if the two of you are but one being.” With that, they were off and flying once more, not returning to the surface of the mountain until the sun sank low in the western sky.
The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) Page 12
