A Dead God's Tear (The Netherwalker Trilogy)

by Eisenhardt, Leighmon

  Marcius couldn’t take his eyes off her. He shouldn’t have found chain mail and armor that interesting, but Selene was simply radiant. The way she walked, the subtle curves hinted at underneath the metal, the afterglow of her skin. Her every movement was analyzed, dissected, stored in his memory, and it all left him desperate for more.

  Marcius tried not looking at her, directing his attention at the snaking hallway of wood. It was at least an interesting diversion, since a multitude of carvings of unintelligible designs adorned every inch of the walls. Marcius would have bet his familiar that they were enchanted with some sort of magic, from the way they pulsed and warped the area of his magical sense like ripples in the ocean.

  With a magnetic pull, he found his gaze yanked once again to Selene. Something about her made his chest constrict painfully. Who would have thought heartache was a literal term? And why did it have to apply to someone so. . . unreachable? One of the guards nudged him roughly, catching his eye as Marcius began to protest. The guard silently shook his head, and Marcius closed his mouth as his face heated up in embarrassment.

  They came upon a large set of double doors, and it was only there that the grim procession paused as the guards snapped to attention at their approach. “Marcius, beyond these doors are the most powerful leaders of Selenthia,” Selene said as she steeled herself, “You will only speak when spoken to and answer their questions. Nothing more, or I will strike you down right there and no one will correct me. Understand?”

  She didn’t wait for his response, nodding to the guards who pushed the doors open with practiced uniformity. The entire procession continued into a large dim room. Shadows could be seen moving in alcoves along the wall and the shuffling of feet echoed. In front of them were five chairs on a raised platform, forcing Marcius to have to look up to see them.

  “Welcome, Marcius Realure, to the Selenthian council,” a loud male voice proclaimed.

  A single light, powered by magic, flickered into existence and a hard shove prompted Marcius forward to stand in the middle of it. It was then that Marcius realized that he stood in the middle of a large auditorium like room, and the stands were filled with the shadowed forms of elves, all whispering excitedly amongst themselves. He felt like a novel attraction at a fair, something to be gawked at and shuffled a bit nervously as he waited.

  “As per standard of a trial where one of another race or nation is held trial under our law, all proceedings shall be spoken in the defendant’s native tongue. Marcius Realure, do you recognize and understand the words being spoken to you?”

  Like a stunned animal, Marcius jolted to attention. “Yes?”

  The voice was monotone, taking on the plodding of rhetoric said many times in the past, “The trial shall commence. Defendant, allow me to present the representatives of Selenthia.”

  Five figures stepped out from the gloom, taking their respective seats in the array in front of Marcius. When they settled, another light flared, illuminating the area between the judges and Marcius with a dull glow. Five piercing glares greeted him, worn by solemn elves that seemed to carry such an air of authority that Marcius felt humbled to be in their presence. These were the true powers in this ancient kingdom, and the seriousness of his position was reinforced. Marcius doubted such people were called out for petty claims.

  “Marcius Realure. You are being charged with crimes against Selenthia: assisting members of a Morlian raiding party that was routed by the Battle Mistress Seleniale Destane Liarne, attacking a defender of Selenthia, and finally, being a non-Academy sanctioned wizard. Do you have someone who speaks for you?”

  Marcius was just about to say something when Selene stepped forward, her armor bright, “Aye, I will speak on his behalf.”

  He could only look at her in astonishment. She caught his eye, her head shaking subtly, and at last Marcius understood. They had already decided what they were going to do to him. This was only a show for the other nameless elves watching on the terraces that surrounded him, something to reinforce and justify whatever their ruling was.

  “Battle Mistress Selene, the council recognizes your authority in this matter. Please, continue with a recount of events.”

  The next few hours were a whirlwind of arguments, recounts, testimonies, and accusations. Selene argued on his behalf magnificently, her sharp eyes flashing as her even sharper tongue challenged every charge from angles Marcius never even considered. She was beautiful and Marcius found himself enraptured with her, but a growing sense of uneasiness kept pricking on the edges of his thoughts.

  He had difficulty placing the feeling, but eventually his eyes settled on the cause, a set of figures that stood out even in the dim of the room. From the way they held themselves and the way the other nameless elves gave them a wide berth, it was obvious that this was the center of power of this room, despite appearances of the judges. These two were the sun and everyone else just circled around. Marcius felt himself being drawn in.

  “Marcius Realure, please step forward and accept your judgment.” Surprised, Marcius pulled his eyes away from the two figures.

  “Step forward!” Selene hissed under her breath and Marcius obeyed reflexively.

  “Marcius, having reviewed the testimonies, we have reached our verdict,” Marcius held his breath, “On the accusation of aiding a Morlian raiding party. . . you are found innocent due to circumstances beyond your control. On the accusation of attacking an agent of Selenthia. . . you are found guilty.”

  Gasps and murmurs erupted from points all over the room, Marcius was about to say something, when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Selene shook her head wordlessly, and then indicated to face forward.

  Once the noise died down, the speaker continued, “But, we also agree that his actions were understandable, and since he had not aided the raiding party, he had sufficient grounds to defend himself. So he will receive full pardon. It is not our place to deny anybody the right to defend themselves.”

  Selene took a step forward to stand next to Marcius. “What about the final charge, honored elders?”

  “The final charge: practicing magic without Academy sanction, we find the human guilty. Unrestricted magic use is of great concern to everybody, no matter the race.”

  Marcius’s heart fell at those words. What punishments would they enact?

  “So, as such, we are placing you, the accused, under martial law, within our kingdom, until the Academy is able to come and claim you. It is their area of rule, and elven law must bow to that priority. We will send runners out to inform them of your existence come the morning.”

  Marcius looked up, daring to hope. That didn’t sound so bad. The Academy is where he wanted to go, after all. “During your tenure within our kingdom, you are expected to be accompanied at all times by a council appointed guardian. Be found outside without a guardian and you shall be killed, no questions asked. As long as you obey this mandate and our laws and customs, you shall be unmolested within our kingdom.

  “In fact, you are being allowed a rare privilege. Since the beginning of the war, you are the first human, outside of the Academy, that has been permitted within Selenthia. It is an honor that you should treasure. We rarely take prisoners in war. Our lives are long, and our memories are longer, it may be untold centuries before we allow free humans to wander these paths again.”

  “Who shall be his guardian?” Selene asked.

  “Why,” and there was a trace of amusement in the stale voice, “you, Battle-Mistress Selene.”

  The look of surprise on her face was genuine, and it became evident that she hadn’t been privy to all the behind the scene decisions. “Honored elders, I can’t be pulled with war looming in the horizon to look after some human! There are so many things that have to be done!”

  “Battle-Mistress, you will stand down!” the voice reprimanded harshly, “This human has been wronged by us. War is no excuse to ignore justice. We will not lose ourselves in the atrocity of battle like the very humans we face. We are elv
es, the first-born. This is your duty and your penance. Or do you wish to defy our ruling?”

  Selene’s jaw tightened, but she bowed. “My apologies, honored elders, I will do as you command.”

  “Then you are both dismissed. May Avalene watch over you all.”

  Selene bowed. “May Avalene bless the council with judgment and wisdom.” She did an about face and stopped to look back at Marcius, “Come, I will begin my duties as your guardian.”

  “What about these?” Marcius asked, holding up the manacles on his hands.

  The elf started with surprise, and then blushed. “My apologies, Marcius, for there are many things on my mind.” She produced a key ring and began undoing his hands.

  A bright light invaded the room, illuminating the area and making Marcius squint. “What was that for?” he asked.

  There was a click as Selene removed the final manacle. “The trial is over, so the light spell is allowed to work once more.”

  “Why exactly was I the only one in the light while the rest of the room was dark?”

  “Elvish tradition. The eyes are the pathway to the soul we believe. It is not for the accused to see the judges’ thoughts.”

  Marcius thought about it for a second. “Makes sense if you look at it like that.”

  His eyes wandered around the trial room, now bared for him to see. It was massive and followed the same trend that Marcius had seen in his room, being carved into hardened wood. There were large balconies that stretched all the way to the ceiling, which allowed people to view the trial below where he was at. It was like a gigantic inverted top, and it left Marcius feeling a bit self-conscious.

  He really stood out here.

  Now that the trial was over, there was the general murmur and shuffle that always accompanies people leaving. All along the walls, groups of elves were heading toward the doors. Marcius’s eyes widened. The myriad of clothing and sheer otherworldly nature of the elves just amazed him. They moved with a grace that mirrored Selene’s, flitting amongst each other in a flowing cascade of colors and fabric as they chattered animatedly. Marcius couldn’t believe that they had all come to just see him. Was a human in Selenthia really that such a significant event?

  Still, as Selene led him out, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The feeling of unease, of being watched, stayed with him, and he glanced back reflexively. His gaze was pulled to a pair that didn’t move with the flow of the crowd, and he knew instinctively that these two were the ones that had so alarmed him during the trial.

  They both wore full body cloaks that hid most of their faces, one a deep cerulean blue and the other a vivid crimson. The one in blue was obviously female from the way the fabric outlined her body, and it was plain to see that she was the one in charge. Her partner was much larger in frame than any elf Marcius had seen, but wore a feral smile on what little of his face that was visible. He seemed to be responding to something the woman had said.

  “Are you coming?” Selene intoned from behind.

  “Who are those two?” he said, unable to tear his eyes from the pair.

  He heard a shuffle of armor as Selene came next to him and she followed his line of sight. There was a slight gasp from the elven warrior. “Come, Marcius. We must go, now.”

  There was a desperate quality to her voice that finally released the spell the duo had cast over Marcius and he found himself hurrying to catch up with her as she exited the double doors. “Wait!” he said as he finally fell in step with her, “Who were those two back there?”

  “They are of no concern to you,” she said, walking briskly in front of him.

  But from the way she bristled and refused to look at him, Marcius doubted that was the case.

  ❧　❧　❧

  The light outside was filtered through a thick canopy, causing everything below it to take on a greenish hue. Trails of yellow pollen fell from above, drifting lazily with the wind. The air was filled with the gentle rustle of leaves and musky earth smell of nature.

  “Incredible!” Marcius held his hands up to his eyes as he walked outside. “Where am I?”

  Selene followed him, and the smile on her face stole Marcius’s breath. “Welcome to Agliarena, the heart tree of Selenthia.”

  “Tree?” Marcius looked around and it dawned on him that this wasn’t a building, but a dwelling carved into the side of a massive tree that loomed over head like a giant to ants. He could have fit an entire section of his city in the massive expanse of trunk! The very prison that held him was tunneled from a section of root! There were dwellings all along the outer rim of the tree, looking like mossy overhangs connected by flights of stairs that seemed to grow from the trunk itself.

  “The heart tree is where we house our wizards and prisoners. Magic and patience coaxed those stairs that follow the sides. Agliarena forms the center of our nation and our forest.”

  “Incredible. . . ” Marcius whispered, squinting as he tried to look to the uppermost stairways at the mere specks of elves that wandered them. “Why do you keep wizards and prisoners there? Wouldn’t it kill the tree?”

  “Several reasons. For wizards, it is a fountain of power, an endless wellspring of nether to draw from, much like the Academy. It only makes sense that they would want to be close. While we don’t often take prisoners, it is the most secure place to keep them. The tree is connected to us and our desires, and there is no safer place to keep enemies of our nation. The tree isn’t normal. It draws life from the nether itself. It is alive. Agliarena is connected to the elves and we are connected to the tree. ”

  Marcius walked up to the side of the tree and looked back questionably at Selene. When she nodded, he ran a hand along the length. The wood was warm to the touch and hummed with contained power. How could he have missed this? He let his fingertip trail lazily. Marcius wished his father could have seen this.

  “Let me show you where I live.”

  “I’m living with you?”

  “You don’t expect to stay here by yourself? I am your guardian, and by our custom, I am to provide lodgings. You may turn me down, but it is considered very rude. Also, it’d be hard for you to wander around since you’d have to wait for me to arrive to escort you. Unless you like being killed. . . ”

  Marcius shook his head ruefully. “I had enough near death experiences these last few days, and I’ll pass on the offer.”

  A few minutes passed in peaceful silence as they walked through Selenthia. The entire ground was covered in thick moss, like an outdoor carpet. Marcius had always imagined the homeland of the elves to be built in trees, like Agliarena. But he was pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t the case. All the buildings were small and squat to the ground, made from large smooth stones that had eventually been grown over with plants, giving the entire ensemble a weathered natural feel.

  The first thing that sprung to mind was how clean the city was, there was nothing that one would expect from a human establishment. No trash littered the ground; the normal hustle and bustle didn’t exist, just elves quietly going about their business.

  It was. . . refreshing. Peaceful. The elves that populated it gave him nothing but friendly glances, although they were also wary. Marcius suspected much of the freedom was given because of the imposing guardian that Selene made. She did look remarkably intimidating in her armor, heading in a determined manner toward her destination with a scowl on her face.

  Gradually the landscape changed, the tightly knit buildings began to spread out and the crowd lessened. The houses were larger in this area, with expansive yards and imposing gates wrought from solid black stone. Massive elven statues lined the path of worn moss they walked; they looked down on him with stern faces and impressive weaponry, as if daring him to take action.

  "We are now in my family's territory," Selene said as they made their way past a yard of elves training with wooden swords. The speed and agility in which they moved still bewildered Marcius, and he wondered what Jared would say if he was here. They looked like onl
y young children.

  "Territory?"

  "Aye, I am of the warrior caste. This is our area. Selenthia is divided into equal parts: the ruling caste, the warrior caste, and the servant caste,” she said this as a matter-of-fact, as if she expected him to know such things, but doubted that he did.

  Marcius thought for a few seconds, "So, everything is decided when you are born?"

  "Aye."

  "Sounds. . . restrictive."

  There was a slight tightening of her face, but she nodded. “Perhaps, but it is. . . pleasant. . . to know exactly your purpose in life.”

  Selene’s strides picked up, forcing Marcius to have to go into a jog to keep pace. “Isn’t that boring, though?” he continued when they were once again side by side, “What happens if you don’t like it?”

  “Life is full of unpleasant things. There are far worse things than playing to a role.”

  “But-" Selene stopped so suddenly that Marcius almost ran into her.

  “We are here. Welcome to the house of Caste Liarne,” she said as Marcius glanced over her shoulder.

  A stone gate surrounded an expansive courtyard that was heavy with dark-green moss and peppered with bushes and flowers in full bloom. The worn rock pathway that lead down the center eventually came to a halt against a squat main building surrounded by several smaller structures that gave the impression of a half-buried monster with claws coming up from the ground. It wasn’t huge, but it was still sizable, and despite the vegetation, it was obvious to even his untrained eye that everything was kept in good repair.

  The courtyard mimicked the prior ones in the fact that there were numerous elves sparring, and Marcius watched one break away to approach the gate. “Battle Mistress Selene,” he said, giving a curt bow, “It is nice to have you back.”

  “It is nice to be back, Lorisen.” And the smile that Selene flashed the elf had Marcius’s stomach twisting painfully.

  The elf’s eyes then narrowed when he saw Marcius. “This would be the human that the council has forced you to watch?”