by C. J. Krüger
“That’s up to you to decide,” she says simply and draws her hood back up. “I will see you at the funeral, your Majesty.”
Before I have a chance to say another word she disappears into the shadows and vanishes. I try to reach out with my mind to sense her, but I feel nothing. It’s like she is a ghost.
* * *
When the sun rises the next morning, streams of purple and silver light pour out from the sky. Elves, Men, and Dwarves gather separately in a great clearing in the center of the White Spire to celebrate the life of King Silverblade.
Many are openly weeping, mostly Arterian Elves, but there are some among the Aquarians and even the reclusive Dark Elves who are displaying grief. The Dwarven kings and their people look grumpy and are wearing full armor, as if they expect a fight. But even so, they bow their heads in respect.
It’s the reaction of the Men under my father that sets my tempers blazing. Many of them are muttering insults and questioning why they are even here.
Be at peace, my love, Ayda says gently into my mind. They do not really know your grandfather and many think he interfered in the affairs of Men.
He’s made sure that there is a world for them at all, I reply coolly. Countless times.
I know, but all the same, do not hold onto your anger. It’s not good for you.
I grumble under my breath and reach out to grasp her hand. Feeling her skin against mine helps to soothe the outrage and I begin to take deep breaths. An Elven woman steps into the center of the clearing and she begins to sing a mournful song. The tongue she uses is lost on many here, but even the mocking Humans fall silent as she sings.
Tears prick my eyes and my body starts to shake. This whole time, I’ve held onto some naïve notion that Grandfather is really alive, but now his death sinks in and breaks me. How can he really be gone? Killed by his own brother.
As the woman’s song ends, I stand up straight and wipe the tears from my eyes. Since we do not have a body to bury, I’ve decided to build a statue in his honor. Reluctantly I let go of Ayda’s hand and I walk out into the center of the clearing.
I’ll miss you, I tell her.
I’m right here.
Many eyes are on me, most looking puzzled. Only Ayda knows of my plan, and perhaps The Dark Lady, if she has broken her promise about mind reading.
“Friends and family,” I say, using magic to project my voice so all can hear. “I want you all to take a look around this place. See how you are all standing.”
Confused looks cross the faces of all who are standing there and I can see that none of them are getting the point.
“Standing apart is not what my grandfather gave his life for,” I tell them, my voice solemn. “Demons from the Voidlands have invaded our world. Not for our jewels or gold or forests. They come for our lives. They come to corrupt everything that is good.”
Many people are nodding along and I can see flickers of rage passing in their eyes. All here have experienced the horrors of demons over the last two weeks and they look ready to take action.
“My grandfather knew we only have one weapon against this threat: the Lights and Their love. Many of us have been touched by him and his great love for all Their creations. Among all the peoples here, none of us have a history that does not include this great man in some way, because he fought for us… and died sacrificing himself for us.”
Everyone looks down in reverence as I speak, even the Humans who were acting like children before. I take a deep breath to gather my thoughts and fight back my tears.
“Truly I tell you, even more than Diarmuid Silverblade’s great love for us, the love of our Lights is even greater. Today is the first day in history that we will all stand together. Not as Elf or Dwarf or Man, but as citizens of this world and children of the Lights.”
A Dwarven king stands up and slams his heavy axe on the ground. “No!” he says firmly. “We will not.”
I glare sharply at the outspoken King but do not lose my composure. From the emblem on his armor, I see he is the Chief King. While he doesn’t rule with absolute authority over the others, his voice carries the most weight among them. I had better not make him an enemy now.
“And why not, King Ulfgar?” I ask, trying to sound civil.
“You speak of Their love? Bah,” he spits. “What love have They shown the Dwarves? In the First War, even before the Elves walked Argurion, the demons came and nearly destroyed us. But then Silverblade and his siblings came, claiming to be the sons and daughters of Gods.”
He starts walking toward the center now, his eyes brimming with thousands of years of pent up anger and frustration. “They uplifted the surface dwellers, the earliest of Men, to fight their war. When they won, what happened?” he asks, throwing up his arms in anger. “The Men were given immortality for their service and the remaining Dwarves received nothing. And when we helped again? ‘A debt of gratitude’, bah!”
I wasn’t expecting this and I start walking toward the dwarf. Several Elves look outraged and I see them getting ready to speak. No wonder the Dwarves came wearing armor.
I lift my hand and stop before the angry King. Is what he says true? I ask, feeling somewhat sick for even doing so.
Yes, the gentle voice of I’luna responds.
Yes, because they are greedy and only help when it suits them. Take away their gold and they will fight, but ask them to defend another’s home and the answer is always no. Your father had this problem as well. The voice of Sol-theron is much less kind and I wince at his irritation.
What should I do, Father?
Whatever you think is right, Our son, They say calmly and with love.
“King Ulfgar,” I say gently, doing my best to keep the situation calm. “What you say is true, but would you not agree that my grandfather has always been good to your people? He did save them, after all.”
The dwarf nods but his demeanor does not change. “What you say is accurate.”
I give this to you. I do not know the words to say, but I trust you to use me, I pray silently before saying out loud, “It is within my authority to grant you a gift in Their name now.” I bow my head and continue on. “Although the authority does not come from me, I am granted it. I owe you a debt of thanks for saving Kal-Gora and on behalf of the Lights, your service should be rewarded.”
This seems to take him and everyone else by surprise.
An elf shouted, “What gives you the right?!”
“I am Their great-grandson and Champion. They sent me here and work through me,” I say firmly. “Tell me, Chief of Kings, what can I do for you? What can I do for one who has all the riches he could want?”
“I…” he hesitates and I see his resolve faltering. “I want my people to be honored for their sacrifice. We’ve bled just as much for this world as anyone else.”
Thinking for a moment, I close my eyes and reach deep into my own soul. Visions of the past come rushing through my mind as clearly as if I have lived them. “You mentioned a word before… Argurion… that is what the Dwarves call this world.”
“Yes,” he says proudly. “It means ‘silver maiden’ in the tongue of Men.”
“But Men and Elves have their own names… and the history of the Dwarves is long forgotten in our teachings.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know,” Ulfgar grumbles.
More visions pass through me and suddenly they stop. I am standing in front of my grandfather, and he is speaking to an ancient Dwarven king. Their words are lost on me, but I see Grandfather smiling and saying the Dwarven word repeatedly to himself.
“Then the gift I give to the Dwarves is this: from this day forward until this world is ash and dust, all shall call it Argurion in honor of the Dwarves who have given their lives for all.”
There is a mighty protest among the others but I silence them with a display of golden light. Wings sprout from my back and I can feel the Holy Fire burning in my eyes. I kneel down and touch the earth, and whisper the word Argurion. The
re is a subtle rumble, as if the planet is testing the word on its tongue.
Done! A unified voice echoes in my mind.
When I stand up, everyone is silent and the Dwarves look to be on the verge of tears. I turn my back on the speechless King and raise my hand to the center of the clearing. Gathering my will, I visualize Grandfather’s features and channel it through my hand.
A diamond statue erupts from the ground, looking every inch like Diarmuid Silverblade. Gasps fill the room and the Dwarves fall on their knees and bow.
I turn back toward King Ulfgar and give him a soft smile. “Legend has it that the first Dwarf was born from living diamond and a diamond shall forevermore honor the King of Arteria. Are these two gifts enough for you, Chief of Kings?”
The Dwarf bows deeply. “Yes,” he says, his voice choked with emotion. “You honor my people along with yours as equals. Thank you.”
Duncan, that was beautiful, Ayda whispers into my mind. You are beautiful.
I smile. It was the right thing to do.
Chapter Five
In the weeks following Diarmuid's funeral, Arteria has been a total mess. The younger Elves see it as a chance to prove themselves and the older ones think they should be in charge. Ayda, my mate, is keeping me sane—but it’s Aydamaris, High Priestess of Arteria, that is keeping all of them in check.
In fact, it's only by her grace that the rest of them haven't disposed of me. I did not make any friends among the Elves by showing the Dwarves kindness. The first day after I changed the name of our world was one of the worst. Several people tried to speak the old names but Argurion fell from their lips instead. This made them most unhappy and many levied curses at me.
Azhrav is also causing me no end of headaches with his constant but subtle suggestions that he should take over Elvendom. This isn't the time to struggle over who should be leading, and every time he brings it up I want to throttle him.
It's going to be fine, I tell myself. It's going to be fine. At least being in the forest gives me peace. The cool breeze and the sounds of birds gives my mind peace. The steadfast mountains in the distance remind me of the eternal nature of the Lights’ patience and care for this world. The way the air flows and how water erodes mountains is all part of Their grand design.
It's more magical than any spell could ever hope to be.
“You know,” a soft voice says, “It’s not going to get any better if you hide out here.” She steps out from behind a tree, her silver eyes peering into my heart.
“I know, Ayda,” I say, breathing in a sigh. “How long have you been watching me?”
She smiles. “A while,” she says casually. “Don’t you think it’s time to put an end to all this petty squabbling?”
I turn my head back towards the mountains and I think. Am I truly the most fit to rule? Is there a conflict of interests because I am also Their Champion?
Shaking my head, I say, “No, not yet. I’m not ready to fill Grandfather’s shoes just yet.”
“You have to be ready soon, my love,” Ayda says, walking around to face me. Her snowy white hair flows in the wind and she gives me a hard and penetrating look. “Do you remember a year ago, when you hurt all those people at school?”
I nod and look away. “I do,” I say softly. “I shouldn’t have let the Darkness get to me like that. I should have—”
“Stop,” she says firmly. “I didn’t bring it up to make you feel bad. I brought it up because at the time you weren’t ready for anything. But now? The way you look, the way you talk… and that display at the funeral? It’s like you’ve aged a thousand years, Duncan.” She reaches out and touches my face tenderly, and her lips form a smile. “You’re ready for this. You are not the same boy anymore. I believe in you.”
A tear rolls down my cheek, and then another, and another. “Thank you,” I say quietly and lift my sleeve to wipe away the tears. “Sometimes what I need to do is clear and it’s almost as if I have no choice. But this seems… I don’t know, exactly. I know it’s something I should do, but…”
“The Lights speak to me, too, Duncan,” she says firmly and wraps her arms around me. “I’d be a worthless High Priestess if they didn’t. I’ve prayed about this because the decision about who to nominate is ultimately mine. It’s Their will for you to lead, but it has to be your choice to accept that burden.”
“People are going to think you named me because you want to be queen,” I point out. “It’s not exactly a secret that we are a couple.”
“Are we?” she asks, a playful smirk on her face. “You haven’t gotten me any gifts or shared a meal with me. More importantly, you haven’t asked me what I think about this whole business of being a couple.”
My face turns red and I shyly look away. “I suppose not, but the kiss we shared was quite telling, I think.”
“Was it?” she asks, turning my face toward her. “I think I need a reminder.”
“Will you be mine, Aydamaris?” I ask her softly. “My mate?”
“Yes, Duncan,” she says, her voice barely a whisper. She pulls me into a kiss and rubs her hands up and down my back soothingly.
We stand there for a time, our lips dancing with one another. In my mind, I am praying about what to do as I feel her skin against me. There is a clarity I feel around her that I can’t feel otherwise.
Pulling away, I look down at her and I can’t help that my face breaks out into a happy grin. “It feels different.”
“It should,” she says pointedly. “I know that with everything going on right now you aren’t ready to move as quickly as I am. That’s all right. I’ve waited for you for a very long time now, my love, and I can wait until you’re ready.”
I nod and hug her tightly. “Thank you for saying that,” I tell her softly. “I’m still worried about what people might say. I don’t want to risk your authority or mine with talk of a scandal.”
I don’t even have to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes. “Do you know how few people in our history have used the Golden Light?”
Confusion speeds on my face. “The what?”
She blinks at me several times and then narrows her eyes. “The really flashy wings that grew out of your back when you named the world and created the diamond statue of your grandfather. That was the Golden Light. It’s the magic of the Lights, Duncan.”
“I didn’t actually know what I was doing,” I admit to her, my brows knitting together. “I was just acting as a vessel for Them.”
“Exactly!” she exclaims and runs her fingers through my beard. “Only two people have ever been recorded using the Golden Light. Your father, twenty years ago, called on the Lights to help him and he was able to use Their Light in battle.”
“And the other?” I ask, though I feel I already know the answer. There is only one other person it could be. “Was it Grandfather?”
She nods. “And he was the only one who could have renamed the world like that in Their name. The only other person given the right to enact Their will for all to see. You were both sent by our Heavenly Parents to do great works but it’s your choice if you do them or not.”
“Spread the word, High Priestess Aydamaris,” I say formally. “Arteria will have a king before the day is done.”
* * *
The days are growing darker as the grasp of winter takes hold on the northern half of Argurion. Even now, just after midday, the mighty sun is low in the sky. Thankfully, magic around Arteria keeps the weather temperate all year round, because the coronation is to take place in the center of the great city.
Initially, I planned on using the great platform at the top of the White Spire, but when word spread throughout the realm that a new king was going to be crowned, all of Arteria poured into the city. The only place large and clear enough for such an event is the Spring Festival grounds.
Every year, we celebrate the cherry trees coming into blossom in the spring and the petals fall around the city like snow. On the grounds we hold a great feast where arti
sts and craftsmen from all corners of the forest come and share their creations. Sometimes it’s easy to believe that the majority of the Elves live within the boundaries of the city, but every year we are reminded that most prefer to live a free, wild life among the trees.
That’s where I would love to be right now. Instead, I am standing in the center of the grounds, dressed in one of my grandfather’s finest royal robes. They are a rich, deep purple with silver trimming and make me feel outrageously ostentatious.
You look good, my dear, Ayda says into my mind.
I groan inwardly and take a deep breath. You are the one who looks good, my love. She does, with her long, azure blue dress that shimmers against her hair. It’s adorned with leaves of all colors and acorns from the surrounding forest. I find it difficult to take my eyes off of her.
Careful, my lord, she says playfully. If you keep staring at me, we won’t get anything done.
I chuckle and nod. I can’t help that your beauty rivals that of the Moon.
Her cheeks flush but otherwise she keeps her composure.
Smiling at her, I finally turn away. My eyes scan the crowd and I see my parents sitting on an elevated platform along with the other Argurion rulers. They are looking down at me and I can see in their faces they are proud.
I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to chat, I project into their minds. A difficult task considering everyone else is speaking out loud or with their minds as well.
We know, son, they both reply. But don’t try and talk to us too much now. Others can hear you.
I furrow my brows. At least with Ayda our soul link keeps our conversations private. I think we’re shielded by all the other noise and conversations going on. In any case, at the feast afterwards before you leave, we should talk.
We’d like that, son. Good luck, they reply before going quiet and shielding their minds.
I do the same, closing it off to all noise except the link Ayda and I share. Turning to look at her, I give her a nod and my lips pull into a smile.