by Steven Drake
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He had read this passage many times, wondering how much of it was true. It appeared in several books on elvish lore and he suspected it had been copied from some original source which might or might not still remain in the world. Jerris had by now sat down on the cot. He appeared somewhat dejected and Darien suddenly felt an unexpected sense of sympathy for this half-elf boy.
"May as well come to the point," Darien said. "The stone in the talisman you wear. Do you know what it is?"
"My mother gave me this talisman," Jerris said. "She told me it was a magic stone and that I should keep it with me always and show it to no one except those of elven blood. She said that it would protect me, and guide me, if I held it and concentrated."
"Hm-m, well, perhaps she knew no more than that herself. That's a decent description of what it is, I suppose," Darien said thoughtfully, then continued, "but it isn't the complete answer. That stone is very, very rare. It is a starstone, and it responds to your elven blood, as it would to anyone with enough elven blood to awaken it. Let me see it." Jerris hesitated and an uncertain look appeared on his face, so Darien reassured him. "I'm not going to steal it. You know that you're no match for me and I could have taken it at any time if I wanted to."
With a look of resignation, the boy sighed and slowly took out the talisman. As Darien moved his open hand toward the jewel and focused his energy, it glowed brightly.
"You see, it isn't only you it responds to."
"Yes, I see," Jerris said, more than a bit awed.
"It is my understanding that it responds in different degrees to differing amounts of elven blood. Only pure-blood elves can draw the full power of the stone, I believe. Half-elves, like you and I, can generate a strong reaction, though still not the stone's full power."
"How did you know I was half-elf?"
Darien paused a moment, struck by the perceptiveness of the question. "Well, your pursuers named you as such, but I put little faith in their wisdom," he said, with the hint of a chuckle. "To tell the honest truth, this is not the first time I have seen a starstone and I judged the reaction almost equal to what I was able to generate."
"Oh," Jerris replied, looking down at the floor. "I wish I was a pure-blood elf. I wish I could purge my human blood.”
"You'll get no argument from me, on that account," Darien said. "I suppose I would do the same, although I've never thought of it quite like that. Pure-blood elves fare no better among humans than half-elves. They are both persecuted. It doesn't make much difference in the end."
"I hate my human blood," Jerris said, angrily. "I hate them and everything about them. I want nothing to do with them."
Darien sighed deeply and looked away, shutting his eyes. Jerris’ angry words reminded him of the day his own hatred of humanity flared violently to life. Even after so many years had passed, the awful memory of the day his mother died was still as fresh as it ever had been, an open wound that would never heal. He grimaced and banished the memories. The silence lasted a minute or two, until it was again broken by Jerris.
"Have you met any other elves, or half-elves?" he asked.
"Just a few. Pure-blood elves are exceedingly rare. They live in hiding, fearing all the other races. True half-elves, who have one elven and one human parent, are rarer still, but the term half-elf is also used by humans in many places to designate those known to have any trace of elven blood, or even those who simply have an elven appearance." Darien shook his head in disgust. "In some parts of the world, these are not altogether uncommon. I have known a few and they have no more love for humanity than you or I. I have known only one other true half-elf before I met you, and I have never seen a full- blooded elf other than my own mother."
"My mother is a full-blooded elf," Jerris stated with pride. "She told me she is one of the last, east of the Endless Forest. She said that when she was very young, she lived in a small village with other elves, but that it was destroyed by men and she wandered the world for many centuries, before she met my father."
"Does your mother yet live?" Darien asked doubtfully, suspecting he already knew the answer.
"Oh yes!" Jerris replied. "I didn’t mean she was dead. She lives in the castle of Duke Parham. She has been held captive there for many years… all of my life and some before, in fact."
Darien's mood lightened somewhat upon hearing this news. "Well, captive is better than dead. The former may be remedied whereas the latter may not." He leaned back in the chair against the cavern wall between two of the torches. "I don't suppose those ruffians chasing you had anything to do with that?" Darien smiled wryly at the lad.
Jerris nodded, conceding the obvious. "I was attempting to break into the castle to rescue my mother." His voice broke a bit. "I failed miserably and probably made quite the fool of myself in the doing. I was lucky to get away on my first two attempts, but this time my luck ran out."
Darien chuckled. "You must have the best luck of anyone who has ever lived, as technically you've now evaded capture three times." He paused, then continued wistfully, "Good fortune triumphs over superior ability as often as not. The truly skilled leave nothing to chance.”
"So, now that you've brought me here, what exactly do you plan to do with me, and why are you so interested in this 'starstone' as you call it," Jerris asked.
"My interest in the starstone is not your concern. It wouldn’t do you any good to know, and might do you harm. Let it suffice to say that there are some very powerful foes who would kill you without hesitation for that stone.” Darien's voice was somber and cold, and Jerris' already pale face turned even whiter, as he gulped audibly. “As for what I'm going to do with you, I haven't quite decided. That depends upon you. I am not your enemy, and I have no reason to harm you, but I'm not certain I should just leave that stone with you."
“You sure know a lot about this stone. You obviously know some really advanced magic, and you got rid of those four men without even breathing hard. You don’t act too concerned about any of those really powerful enemies taking the stone from you, so who are you anyway?” Jerris asked with a hint of nervous fear in his voice.
“I’m just Darien. I work as a mercenary, guide, tracker, and occasionally, a thief here in Kantu and the surrounding lands. I wander about to find work in the dwarf cities and the small human towns.” The boy didn’t seem at all convinced, obviously this lad was more perceptive than he appeared. Darien could see that the boy wasn’t quite ready to drop the matter, so he frowned somewhat menacingly at the boy, who turned white once again. “Honestly, Jerris, there are things about me that you would be better off not knowing, and this is one.” The boy then nodded quickly, and let the matter drop, so Darien, relieved that he wouldn’t have to resort to anything more severe, moved on. “Why don't you tell me your story from the beginning and I might be better able to answer"
"What exactly do you want to know?"
"Well, start with how your mother ended up captive and go from there."
"Alright, then. But I'm exhausted and would like to get some sleep."
"That is perhaps the most intelligent thing you have yet said," Darien joked. "It is late and sleep would do you good. You may take the cot and I will take the floor. I have a bedroll stowed away and am used to living rough."
In truth, however, Darien had felt little need for sleep since he had taken the Demon Sword and when he did sleep, he was haunted by nightmares, twisted flashbacks of his former life, or horrifying glimpses of terrible futures filled with death and destruction. When awake, he found it far easier to force aside the equally disturbing past and future, so he slept no more than was necessary. Even so, the altercation outside the inn had tired him somewhat, so he decided to try to sleep.
The older half-elf took a simple bedroll from the chest of drawers and laid it near the far wall, while the younger laid down on the burlap sacks that did duty as a mattress on the cot. The shade waved his hand and the torches dimmed and went out. Jerris set his torch on the ground and it to
o went out, as it left his hand. All was then dark and quiet in the cavern.
Chapter 8: Jerris’ Story
The shades had all trained to be wary even in sleep, so that an enemy could not take them by surprise. That training had served this particular shade quite well for his many years in the service of his Master, and in the time since. So, when he sensed the presence of a hand creeping near his right arm, his instinct took over. He silently drew the iron longsword that he kept at his left side, and leapt upon his assailant. He put his blade to the throat of the attacker, when he suddenly recalled where he was and the events of the day before. He recognized the terrified face of the young man, Jerris, and withdrew the blade. He then waived his hand, and the torches lit up the cave.
The shade sheathed his blade, then stood and extended his hand to his still shocked companion. Jerris, however, was clearly too terrified to make any move. "My apologies, young Jerris," he said. "But I am unaccustomed to company, and I mistook you for an attacker." Jerris seemed to recover slightly, breathing a bit slower and slowly took Darien’s extended hand and allowed the older half-elf to help him gain his feet.
"Are you mad? You might have killed me!" Jerris said incredulously upon reaching his feet.
"Not at all," the shade replied calmly. "As I said, I mistook you for an attacker, and I would not have killed you even if you were, at least not until I figured out who sent you."
"Well that's comforting,"
"Just why were you creeping about, anyway? You might have simply spoken to wake me."
"I wasn't creeping about!" Jerris said. "It’s dark in here and I can't light those torches, can I? I was trying to find that one you gave me yesterday to see if it would light. I got down on the floor and was looking for it, and the next thing I knew I had a sword at my throat. Why should I expect to be attacked by a sleeping person, however I waken them?"
The confused shade paused for a moment, realizing how he must appear to ordinary people, who had never fought for their lives in battle, or even drawn a sword. "I am truly sorry," He said with more sincerity than before. "When I was younger than you, I learned to defend myself at all times, to attack without hesitation, and only worry about asking questions once the enemy was subdued."
"Even while you’re sleeping?” Jerris exclaimed in disbelief. “How old are you, and where did you learn to defend yourself while you’re asleep? You don’t look that much older than me," Jerris said with a skeptical tone.
"Hmm," Darien wondered aloud. "How old do you think I am?”
“I don’t know, twenty-five, thirty maybe, or somewhere in between.”
“That’s probably as good a guess as any. To tell the truth, I’m not entirely sure how old I am. I’m not sure that it matters. Age is as much a question of experience as it is a count of seasons, and by that measure, I assure you, I’m old enough. I can’t really answer your other question without telling you more than you need to know.” He frowned at the lad, just to reinforce the point.
“Something I'd be better off not knowing, is it? Well I guess I owe you some trust after you saved me last night. Those men might well have killed me if you hadn't helped me out."
“They were after you because you tried to break into the castle?” Darien asked as he sat down in the chair.
"Yes," Jerris explained, taking his seat on the cot. "I tried to scale the north wall with a rope and grappling hook, but I missed the throw, and someone heard me. I tried to get the rope back, but I had thrown it over a tree branch and it got wedged so I had to leave it. I ran back to town where I had a room rented. I tried to hurry but it was raining so hard. I must have fallen in the mud at least a dozen times."
"Yes, that much was apparent when you walked in the door."
Jerris gave the older half-elf a somewhat cross look, and continued on, "I guess they found me by following the footprints, probably all the way from where I had to leave the rope. Maybe they already knew it was me anyway. I did tell you it was my third attempt to break in."
"You did, and I won't ask you how you failed the other two times."
"Thanks, I guess," Jerris said as he shrugged sheepishly. "I fail at everything it seems. How can I expect to save my mother if I can't even manage to get into the castle? It's hopeless."
Darien noticed that the young man seemed about to cry. Knowing he would get no useful information out of a crying child, he attempted to change the subject. "Just how did your mother end up captive anyway? Did she commit a crime? Is it about the stone?"
"Oh no, nothing like that. They don't know about the stone. Mother managed to keep it a secret from the Duke and everyone else."
"Then what is it?"
"It's… Well she's…" Jerris stuttered and looked around the room nervously. It seemed to Darien that the young man was once again on the verge of tears.
"He keeps her as his consort?" Darien sighed deeply and shook his head in disgust. Jerris only nodded yes, and began to tear up. Darien struggled for the words to comfort the young man. He felt a sudden trepidation, for this situation was beyond his experience. He had faced countless foes in battle without fear or hesitation, yet was suddenly nervous about having to endure the weeping of this child. Finally, he spoke again, "The practices of those who call themselves nobility are often far less noble than the crimes of those who are called heinous thieves. This practice is regrettably common. Pure-blood elves live for hundreds of years, and their appearance changes little. Those with even small traces of elf blood retain their youthful appearance far longer than ordinary women. As such, they are often highly valued by lecherous noblemen. I have little comfort to offer you, I'm afraid."
The hard-hearted shade expected Jerris to crumble to tears, yet the lad did not. He seemed to stiffen for a moment, and compose himself, as if some hidden reserve of strength had suddenly risen up in him. "I can only tell you what she told me,” He said.
“She was wandering the world when she was abducted by bandits. She was rescued by two brothers. The brothers were the sons of the Duke of Parham, Boras and Halas. Mother was injured during the struggle, and so the two brothers took her back to the castle until she could recover.
“While she was there, the two brothers both fell in love with her. The two brothers quarreled over the matter. Boras wanted only to keep her at the castle for both of them to… share. Halas, however, refused to hold her captive, and wanted to make her his wife. Mother had no love for either of them, and only wanted to get away.
“The two brothers both went to their father, the Duke, to mediate their dispute. The Duke, Baran, I think she called him, would not allow either son to marry an elf, but was willing to allow them to keep her as a slave. Halas thought it dishonorable to use a woman in this way, and said if he could not have her as his wife, he would let her go. Boras, however, tried to convince their father that Halas would bring shame upon the family by running off with this elf woman if she were set free. Halas was furious, and challenged his brother to a trial of combat to settle the matter. He swore a blood oath to his father that if he won, he would set mother free, and not follow her. Duke Baran agreed and decreed they would fight in the castle courtyard.
“When mother found out what was going on, she asked to watch the combat. Halas was smaller and weaker than his brother, and mother was inspired that he would risk his life only to see her set free. She told me that they fought for several hours. Halas was knocked down many times, but each time rose up to fight again. He refused to give up. Both Boras and their father tried to convince Halas to yield, but he would not, saying he would die before seeing a woman dishonored by his family. Boras moved in to kill his brother, but Duke Baran put an end to the combat. He had been moved by his younger son's convictions, and wouldn't allow his son to be slain over the matter. He was satisfied that Halas would honor his word.
“Mother might have left then, but she was so moved by Halas’s sacrifice, that she fell in love, and couldn't bear to leave him. Duke Baran would still not allow them to be married
officially, but he allowed mother to stay as Halas's mistress, for however long she wished."
As Jerris finished his story, Darien nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Then Halas was your father?"
"Yes," Jerris replied, "though they were never married, Halas treated her as his wife. My mother said that I was born about five years later, and that she was happy to finally have a family after so many centuries alone." Jerris then paused, perhaps gathering himself before continuing, or perhaps waiting for some response.
Darien did not ask anything further right away. Jerris’ story seemed somewhat unlikely, given what he knew of the current Duke. Even so, it was not entirely implausible. "Did you ever see your father?" He asked.
"No," Jerris answered, "at least not that I can remember. Mother told me I was barely walking when he was killed. My first memories are of living with her in the castle."
"You lived in the castle?" Darien asked, somewhat surprised at this. Why would Boras allow his brother's child to live in the castle after both his brother and father were dead, he wondered?
"Yes, I lived there until a year ago, when I turned seventeen," Jerris answered.
"I see," Darien said, pausing to find the right words to ask his next question without upsetting the boy. "How did your mother manage to convince the Duke to allow you to live in the castle for so many years after your father was killed?"
"I… I don't know. I never thought about it really. I guess once my father died, my mother made some arrangement with the Duke to allow me to stay," Jerris answered with a puzzled look on his face.
"Perhaps so. How did your father die? Did your mother ever tell you?"
"She told me a horde of goblins invaded from the east, shortly after I was born, and that he fell in battle," Jerris said and hung his head down.
