The Exile of Elindel

by Carol Browne

  “A door that is not a door,

  “A key that is not a key,

  “United, a hidden power will free.”

  “You said it would all become clear,” said Elgiva, “but all you can offer me are riddles.”

  Kendra studied her guests for a moment. “Ah, my dears, forgive me. You are somewhat surpassed by it all. Let us drink a little ale together, and I shall tell you of Elgiva’s past. It may prove of greater interest.” She set the book upon the floor and shuffled into a corner of the room, where she seemed to merge with the shadows.

  “My past?” exclaimed Elgiva. “Do you know who my parents were?”

  “I do, in sooth,” said Kendra, returning to the fire. In one hand, she held a tall clay jug that she set upon her stool and, in the other, three silver goblets. Elgiva toyed with a strand of her hair, trying to control her impatience, as Kendra gave them a goblet apiece and filled them both with ale from the jug. She smiled at their reaction to the richness of the drinking vessels.

  “A gift from Lord Bellic, in fact.” She sat down upon the stool, took a long draught of the dark ale, and then smacked her lips with pleasure. “Ah, this bog myrtle was gathered at just the right time.” She looked at them both and chuckled. “You look so glum, my dears. Drink up! This is the finest gale beer you ever will have tasted. It will do you good.”

  Elgiva sighed with frustration. “How do you come to know all this? What is your connection with Lord Bellic?”

  “First, my dear, I must tell you my tale. I fear I have postponed the telling. Perhaps I know it will shock you, and it will sadden you, too. You want to hear it . . . and you don’t.”

  Elgiva turned her face away, determined that the old woman should not see how scared of the truth she was.

  “Your forebears, Elgiva, are the wardain of Elindel, and I suspect you will prove to be the finest fruit produced by that particular family tree.”

  Despite her decision to remain aloof, Elgiva jumped to her feet in disbelief. The goblet fell from her fingers and clattered across the floor. “What are you saying?”

  The old woman held up her hand in a gesture that asked for patience. “I tell you that you are a wardain, child, and the king who sits on Elindel’s throne is a fool, a knave, a usurper, and he is also your cousin.”

  “Thallinore, my cousin? He can’t be. I don’t believe any of this.”

  “I do,” broke in Godwin.

  They both looked at him.

  “Well, I do.” He lowered his eyes. “I know Elgiva’s a wardain. I know she has power. I’ve felt it.”

  Kendra smiled with satisfaction. “Then you’re not totally blind to the Earth’s magic, Godwin? I am glad. So, Elgiva, you have used your birthright already?”

  “No, I haven’t. It was Siriol.” She drew out the amulet and showed it to Kendra. “Bellic gave me this, to protect me.”

  Kendra touched the amulet and then shook her head. “I think not, my dear. You’re mistaken. There is no power in this.”

  Elgiva scowled at her, refusing to believe it, but Kendra’s gaze was adamant. Glaring at Siriol as though it had betrayed her, Elgiva thrust it back inside her robe.

  “The amulet has a link with Bellic, if that is some consolation,” said Kendra.

  Elgiva turned away and frowned at the fire, her mind in turmoil. How could any of this be true? Or even real? She was a wardain and Siriol was a lie, a piece of rock and nothing more. Her closest friend had betrayed her. In spite of that, she was expected to rise to some horrendous challenge and go to Misterell. The very name of the place had filled her with dread since she was a child.

  Kendra sighed. “I’m sorry, Elgiva, but I have a duty to perform, and I must proceed with it. This is my tale. Try not to interrupt. I’ve digressed more than enough already. Pour some more ale and listen well.” She set her own goblet on the floor and glanced at them both in turn.

  “Now,” she began, “I left Peranduil with your great-uncle Bellic twenty years ago—yes, your great-uncle, Elgiva. We journeyed to Elindel, he as escort for his niece, Erlina. Elindel’s king, Modron, had a younger brother, Ner, who was next in line to the throne and was to marry Erlina. I went along with Bellic, being always uneasy without his protection—and I wanted to see the wedding.

  “Now, Modron had a bastard son—that’s Thallinore, of course. Yes, Elgiva, a bastard, begat of a wench called Eldreda, herself a mere nar-wardain. Modron had never married and had no legitimate heir, but the lack did not concern him, for like Zallic, he had the gift of foreknowledge. After the wedding, he took your great-uncle aside and told him what he had seen in his many prophetic dreams. Ner and Erlina would have but one child, a daughter. She would have power to surpass all other elves, and this power would come to her in the form of a gift. What kind of gift, he knew not. He felt this future child was ordained to be a great ruler of Elvendom—its redeemer, in fact.

  “Bellic respected Modron and always kept in mind what he had said. After the wedding, Bellic decided to stay in Elindel until his niece was settled in her new role.

  “In the fullness of time, Erlina conceived. Then poor Modron caught an ague and died, and Ner was suddenly king. Thallinore had, by this time, fallen in with Tarkinell—a rogue and arch-manipulator. Tarkinell knew Thallinore was weak and greedy, and they became close friends. What passed between them, who can say, nor who did the deed that followed. I suspect Tarkinell convinced his friend of his right to rule as Modron’s only child.

  “So we may never know who poisoned Ner, but he was, and so left this world before his time. We were numb with grief, and none more so than Erlina. The shock induced delivery. I was with her when she birthed you, child, and I was the first to hold you in my arms. Yes, Ner and Erlina were your parents. Sadly, your mother died soon after you were born. I think her heart was broken.”

  At this point, Kendra was obliged to break off from her narrative to wipe the corners of her eyes with her sleeve. Tortured by this unexpected disclosure about her parents’ deaths, Elgiva could do nothing but sit open-mouthed and wait for the old woman to continue.

  “Before Erlina died, she asked to see Bellic,” Kendra went on. “She begged him to protect you. She told him she suspected her husband had been murdered and she feared for the safety of her babe. You may not know this, Elgiva, but the wardain do not attain magic till puberty—and a good thing, too, I’m sure. Imagine power in the hands of naughty elflings! Erlina wanted Bellic to ward you until you could fend for yourself, so he put you in my care, and for many months, I tended to your needs.

  “So your parents were gone, and Bellic took it upon himself to speak to Thallinore concerning the fate of the kingdom. At that time, he had no reason to suspect your cousin of any duplicity or malice, and when Thallinore offered to be the regent until you were of age, your great-uncle accepted. There was no one else with a claim to the throne, and Bellic was an outsider, related to the royal house by marriage only, so his right to interfere was limited.

  “It was then that Bellic heard from Eldruin and was invited to Misterell on a matter of some importance. And so, my dear, he left you in my charge and was away some time. Alas, in his absence, Thallinore proclaimed himself king. No doubt Tarkinell egged him on. No one in Elindel was able to oppose him—he does have powers, you see, be they somewhat weakened by his mother’s blood. So we had to accept it. Of course, we had no reason then to believe he did it for any other end than the good of the kingdom.

  “As for myself, with your parents dead and Bellic away, I realised I had no friends in Elindel and would not be used with kindness. Sadly, I have not found favour with any race. My strangeness has always set me apart. You see, it’s hard to conceal one’s ancestry, my dears.”

  She hooked her long grey locks behind her ears, which were pointed, like Elgiva’s. Grinning, she continued, “Of course, you know why Bellic went to Misterell. The Ninth Book. When he returned, he found your cousin secure in kingship, so he confronted him about Elindel’s future.


  “He learned that Thallinore objected to my presence, so he agreed to send me away. Indeed he was glad to do so, knowing I would be safer elsewhere, especially as he himself would often be away. This is the home he found for me. Anyway, Thallinore told Bellic he had plans to found a dynasty of his own, and you would be excluded from the succession. In his heart, perhaps, Thallinore feared what you might become. Did he know about the prophecy? Who can say? But Bellic did, and he alone had read the Ninth Book.

  “Your cousin told Bellic he was welcome to stay in Elindel, if he so desired. And Bellic made him promise no harm would ever befall you. He expected your cousin to be honourable, no doubt, and in turn, Bellic promised you would not know your true identity. You will remember taking the oath of fealty to the king when you were old enough to do so, Elgiva, but only the nar-wardain are required to take it. Bellic, as a full wardain, could act against Thallinore anytime he wished, if Thallinore gave him cause to, and the king knew his power was unequal to your great-uncle’s. He would have been afraid of the consequences if he harmed you.

  “Thallinore had you put in the care of Eldreda until it could be decided what should be done with you. Fear for your safety no doubt prompted the idea that sprang into Bellic’s mind.” Kendra paused for a moment and shook her head. “I’m not sure my next disclosure will be very well received. However, it must be made. Bellic suggested an announcement be made to the effect that you had died of a childhood illness. In reality, you would be brought up in the royal household as one of the servants and would grow up believing yourself lowborn, knowing nothing of your origins. What’s one more parentless babe in the servants’ quarters? No, Elgiva, do not speak. You misjudge Bellic. Do you not see, my dear, that this kept you safe and allowed your great-uncle to stay in Elindel and keep an eye on you? It also fulfilled the prophesy—‘Orphan and Slave.’ As you grew up, Bellic taught you as much as time allowed without arousing suspicion. He taught you things unknown to other menials. And to him, it all seemed to fit. He was preparing you for your destiny, and he, in turn, was able to travel when he wished, having no need to fear for your welfare. My dear, do not scowl. Do you not think he had another aim in mind?”

  By now, Elgiva was too confused and angry to even care.

  “Do you not think a wielder of great power must be a creature of humility, a being mindful of the needs of others and aware of the importance of justice and mercy?” asked Kendra. “Would not a slave know more of such things than someone accustomed to wealth and flattery and selfish indulgence?”

  Elgiva gazed into the fire, her mood suddenly altered. Images stirred in the sea of her memories. Thallinore, Lord Bellic, the royal horses, and the servants’ quarters, the daily round of chores, her homespun gown with its ragged hem. These were the day-to-day realities of her childhood in Elindel. But her childhood was just another lie. She swallowed the knot in her throat.

  “But I have no power,” she said.

  “You are merely unpractised,” said Kendra. “Perhaps Bellic presumed too much, but there was no one else to protect you. He could have gone away and taken you with him, but Thallinore would have tracked you down; you were a threat to his sovereignty. And it was better you should stay where you were and come to know the workings of Elvendom and of the kingdom you would one day rule. Bellic is a wardain and wise, my dear, but by the stars, he’s not infallible. Do not hate him, for he loves you dearly. In you, his dead niece lives again.”

  Unable to comment, Elgiva acknowledged Kendra’s words with a slight nod of her head.

  “Your childhood passed and no one knew your true identity, except for Bellic, your cousin, and Eldreda . . . and Tarkinell, of course—”

  “And Alsiann,” Elgiva broke in. “I think Alsiann always knew.” Kendra and Godwin both frowned, and she smiled. “The leader of the royal herd.”

  Kendra nodded. “Well, you showed no signs of magic, Elgiva, but no more should you have, for you believed yourself a nar-wardain. Without a tutor in magic, your powers did not develop. But you were being watched. Tarkinell was always alert to the stirrings of your power, ready to advise his master that the time had come to dispose of you—as Eldreda was no doubt disposed of, when her love of wine and mischief-making threatened to loosen her tongue. Bellic made more frequent journeys, searching for somewhere to hide you away, where he could teach you the application of magic. He felt the first part of your training was over, and he also suspected Tarkinell was planning a little accident, something that would rid the king of your presence without giving rise to suspicion.

  “But no sooner had Bellic found the ideal place, when you got yourself banished. In many ways, it was well-timed. There was no need for Bellic to spirit you away, inviting suspicion and trouble. Tarkinell, of course, had a hand in the plot you foiled. He was second only to the Chief Counsellor and probably thought it was time to move nearer the throne. It would have availed him nothing, of course. As a nar-wardain, he would have been deposed sooner or later, but Tarkinell is mad, I think.

  “As you know, Bellic did not follow you. He wished to appear indifferent, perhaps even ashamed. It suited his purpose. He had no wish to leave Elindel at that time, for he was fearful for its future and he believed it would be easy for him to find you when he wished. And he gave you the amulet, of course, but I must leave the explanation of that to him, when you both meet, as I hope, by all the stars, you will.”

  “Shouldn’t we?” asked Elgiva.

  Kendra shrugged. “Who can say what meetings the future holds? Things in Elindel are not what they were.”

  “And Bellic is in trouble,” said Elgiva.

  “From what I hear, they’re all in trouble. Let me tell you what I know, when I have found a good place to start.” Kendra stooped awkwardly to pick up her goblet, and after a long drink and a moment to arrange her thoughts, she continued. “You realise that when you slew the Chief Counsellor, the position went to Tarkinell?”

  “I helped him,” cried Elgiva. The shock of this information made her fists clench together in her lap.

  “Yes, but be that as it may, he has told his master that documents exist dating back to Faine knows when, according to which the kingdom’s nearest neighbour, Urith-Endil, was once a province of Elindel. He has persuaded Thallinore that it’s time to claim it back. ’Tis absolute nonsense, of course, but for now, a state of war prevails between the two kingdoms.”

  Elgiva gasped in disbelief. “War? That’s madness, Kendra!”

  “Madness, indeed, and meanwhile, your cousin grows more grasping and more cruel. Severe penalties are meted out to anyone who opposes him. He means to destroy those he cannot bend to his will. But there is something else I must disclose, and it’s the main reason why your uncle cannot leave.”

  “Several days after you left, my dear, a traveller came to Elindel with a retinue of elves. He claimed to be Vieldrin, Misterell’s new king. Since Eldruin’s death, he had been putting his realm in order, he said, and had now decided to visit other kingdoms and lay to rest the reputation of his own. He maintained that his mission was one of friendship and peace. Your great-uncle knew him from his visits to Misterell and may already have had some inkling of his true nature—I did hear that Eldruin’s death was suspicious. Well, Vieldrin fell in with Tarkinell and Thallinore, and I’m sure he soon knew everything they did, but being Eldruin’s son, he alone had access to the Ninth Book. I believe Bellic spoke out against Vieldrin or his cronies, and certainly the war, but whatever transpired, he made himself an enemy. His last message gave me little cause for hope, Elgiva. He asked that I help you and tell you all I know, for he’s unable to act.”

  “But why?” demanded Elgiva.

  “I know not. I know only that he cannot leave Elindel.”

  “Kendra, Bellic is a wardain. He has great power.”

  “To you, little elf, mayhap. But your great-uncle is ninety-five—three times Vieldrin’s age, I’m sure. He’s weary and has spent his life in study, not in the practice of magic. While you
have seen him as some kind of god, his powers as a wardain are no more extraordinary than those of any other.”

  “Why are you telling me this? I can’t bear it!”

  “Be calm, my dear,” counselled Kendra. “You have work to do in this world. Things to learn and a destiny to fulfill. Perhaps the future of all Elvendom is in your hands alone.” She reached out to touch Elgiva’s arm.

  “No,” snapped Elgiva, pulling away. “I have no power. Modron was wrong, and Bellic, too! And the wretched Ninth Book!”

  “I did not expect you to react so selfishly,” chided Kendra. “Bellic is relying on you.”

  “How else can I react?” Elgiva stood up and paced back and forth, her eyes flashing angrily. “One minute, I’m a servant, a nothing, and the next, I’m a wardain with magical powers, ordained to rescue Elvendom. How can I save Elvendom? It’s ludicrous. What am I supposed to save it from? And if this Vieldrin surpasses Bellic, then he’ll surpass me, too. Kendra, I have no magic!”

  She came to a halt behind Godwin and, after a moment of hesitation, placed a hand on his shoulder, seeking reassurance from his sturdy friendship.

  Kendra frowned at her. “No courage, either.”

  Enraged, Elgiva sprang forwards, uncertain of what she meant to do. Godwin quickly caught her arm and held her back, and she twisted round to confront him. His eyes narrowed, and she knew he was urging her to show forbearance.

  She sagged against him, her arm around his shoulders.

  For a while, they were silent, and then Elgiva spoke. To her own ears, her voice sounded small and defeated.

  “What must I do?” she asked.

  Kendra held out her hand. Elgiva clasped it and then knelt at the old woman’s side. With her free hand, Kendra stroked away the angry tears running down Elgiva’s cheeks.