“Are you sure you understood the queen right?” asked the redheaded soldier. “It’s just that . . . I cannot believe it.”
The troop leader stood impassively, apparently unimpressed. “If you had seen her wrath, you would not ask that question.” The leader’s voice sounded familiar to her.
“But why did she send us? Noroelle is a enchantress almost without peer. And we have no one with us who could find her here. Why didn’t the queen send a sorcerer with us?”
“Probably because she did not count on Noroelle resisting her like this, not even knowing our orders.”
“I don’t know if this is an order I can carry out.”
“You should have thought of that before you swore your allegiance to her.”
“But to kill a child . . .”
Noroelle shied away from the soldiers. What she had just heard was beyond her comprehension. Had she built up a false impression of Emerelle all these years? She would have never dared believe that the queen would send soldiers to kill a helpless child. Capture was the worst that Noroelle had feared. What had happened to make Emerelle issue such orders? Or had the queen always been like this and Noroelle had simply never realized it?
The queen had not only issued the outrageous order to murder Noroelle’s child, but she had also lost her trust in Noroelle. She could have waited for Noroelle to appear in the Royal Hall with her baby, as she had demanded, and Noroelle would have obeyed if the queen had not dispatched her soldiers to Noroelle’s home.
But there was something Noroelle didn’t understand. Why had she only sent swordsmen? The troop leader’s answer was not enough. Because if Emerelle could not imagine Noroelle opposing her order, why had she sent her soldiers at all? There was more going on here, but whatever it was, Noroelle now knew what she had to do.
She would never hand over her baby to the queen and her bailiffs. She would take him to a safe place. And there was only one place that Emerelle could not easily detect the child: the human realm.
Noroelle left the forest and made her way slowly across the broad meadows. She thought of Farodin and Nuramon. Since the two of them had set off a year before to hunt a beast in the human world, her life had changed. One of the elfhunt’s wolves had returned injured to the queen’s court, a mute emissary of a terrible fate. A short time later, her lovers’ horses also came home.
Back then, when the horses returned, Noroelle remembered her dream. Her lovers’ bodies had never been found. Those who had gone out to search for them reported that Mandred’s village had not been molested. If she had not dreamed this dream of Nuramon and given birth to her son, she would never have believed that he and Farodin were dead.
Noroelle spent the entire night walking, crossing the heartland, seen by nobody. When the morning sun rose over the mountains, she came to a remote valley. She carried her son close to her body in a wrap that wound behind her back and over her shoulders. He had not made a sound the whole time and had even slept a little. “Good child,” she said softly and stroked his head. Then she sat down on the grass and lifted the boy to her breast. When he had had enough, she laid the boy down beside her and looked at him. It would be painful, but it was the only way to save her son.
Noroelle rose to her feet. The Other World. She would cross the border. It was true that she knew a lot about the Albenpaths that passed through the three worlds and connected them to each other, but she had never applied this knowledge. The established gates, like the one her lovers had passed through, were not for her. Emerelle would have posted guards at all of them, and it would be too easy to follow the path she had taken if she escaped through such a gate. In places of great power, like Atta Aikhjarto’s stone circle, up to seven invisible paths came together, tying the three worlds together with bands of magic. If you stepped through such a powerful gate, you always came out the other side at the same place. But the fewer Albenpaths that crossed, the more unreliable the door to the Other World. If you tried to pass through such a smaller Albenstar, no one could say where in the human world you would end up. If anyone attempted such a crossing without great magical skill, they might find themselves a victim of time. Noroelle knew she had to protect herself from such a fate. One mistake, and stepping through a gate could mean stepping through hundreds of years.
She also had to be careful to choose a path that led to the human world. She had no desire to go to the Shattered World. That place was no more than the ruins of a world, the remains of the battlefield on which the Alben had fought their enemies, a desolate place now, between Albenmark and the Other World, made up only of barren islands surrounded by emptiness. Those islands, today, served as places of exile or as a kind of refuge for hermits and outsiders. She would never take her son to a prison like that, which was why she had come to this valley.
Noroelle felt the presence of an Albenstar with just two intersecting paths. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the power. Even if Emerelle managed to track her this far, it would be impossible to pick up her tracks again in the Other World, Noroelle thought. She could go through this star a hundred times and come out in a hundred different places in the human world. The band between the worlds here was weak. The faun oak had explained to her that a band like this one broke free with every heartbeat and reconnected to another place. Noroelle saw this as a sign that the fabric between the human world and Albenmark had once been so severely shaken, long ago, that the two worlds had nearly broken apart completely.
Noroelle looked into the sun. It would give her the strength she needed. It would not be the magic of the water, the magic of her lake, but the magic of the light that helped her open the gate. She thought of the light that penetrated to the bed of her lake. Then she thought of the spell, and the transformation followed its course. There was no turning back.
The sun began to shrink. Noroelle looked around. Everything was changing. The colors grew murkier and everything looked coarse and blurred. Trees paled and were replaced by shadows of trees. Spring turned into winter, a meadow became a snow-covered field. The mountains gave way to rolling hills. Soon every similarity to the world she knew had disappeared.
So this was the Other World.
It was indeed very strange. Noroelle wondered what Nuramon thought of this realm the first time he saw it. No doubt he had been as astounded as she was now.
Noroelle’s magic warmed her against the chill of winter. She could walk barefoot on the snow without feeling its chill. Without her warmth, though, her son would quickly freeze to death, so she went in search of humans.
She wandered aimlessly for a long time through the snowy wasteland and saw not a single animal. Winter here seemed to allow no room for life. But finally, she saw the footprints of a rabbit. The sight reassured her, and she continued on. For where there was life, there was also hope for her son.
She spent a long time looking for signs of humans until, finally, she saw a thin column of smoke rising beyond a line of hills. She followed the sign and found a house, as plain as any house could be. At least, it seemed that way to her. She had to acknowledge, though, that she had no experience whatsoever of human houses. This one was small and made of timber. Its beams were warped, its roof askew.
Slowly, Noroelle moved closer to the hut. With every step, she feared a human might suddenly open the door and step outside. She did not know if the magic that still made her invisible would work on human eyes. She had to be ready for anything.
When she reached the door, she listened and heard furniture being moved across wooden planks. A clear voice chirped a merry tune. The song itself was unfamiliar, but she liked the sound of it.
Noroelle kissed her son and whispered softly, “Nuramon . . . I hope I am doing what is right. This is the only chance. Live well, my son.” She released the infant from the invisibility spell and set him down in front of the door. The child stayed quiet but did not take his large eyes off her.
O
nly when Noroelle turned and began to walk away did he begin to cry. Tears welled in her own eyes. But she had to go. This was for him, to keep him safe.
Noroelle hid behind a tree not far away. The child’s crying was so heartbreaking that for a moment, she considered going to him, picking him up, and staying forever in this world with him. But the queen would find them. Noroelle knew that she would have to use her magic if she wanted to survive in the human world, and magic caused tremors in the Albenpaths. The queen’s bailiffs would soon use these to locate her. But her son was still too little to use the power that Noroelle sensed in him. And because, in the human world, there were no mentors to teach him, his talent would probably remain dormant forever, and he himself would be safe from the queen’s wrath.
From her hiding place, Noroelle saw the house door open and someone step out. It was a human woman. Curious but apprehensive, Noroelle watched the woman who would be a new mother for her baby, Nuramon. The woman wore heavy garments against the cold but looked as if she were wide of hip and shoulder even underneath her clothes. Noroelle thought of Mandred. It seemed that stoutness was a characteristic of humans.
The woman’s eyes grew wide with amazement when she saw the baby. She looked around suspiciously, no doubt wondering who would lay a child at her door and then disappear without a trace. Hesitantly, she bent down above Noroelle’s son. The woman’s face looked hard. She had a lump of a nose and small eyes. But as she leaned over the child, she smiled, and Noroelle could see the warmth of her heart reflected on her face. The woman consoled the child in a language Noroelle did not know, but the words sounded so loving that the child grew calm again. The woman looked around one more time to see if anybody was near, then she took the boy into the house.
The instant the door closed behind the woman, Noroelle flitted back to eavesdrop. She wanted to be as sure as could be that she had not made a mistake with this woman, even though she knew she could not stay long enough to be truly certain.
Noroelle heard the woman speaking, and her voice was one of pure joy.
There was a man in there, too. He seemed less thrilled. Noroelle could hear that his voice was full of doubt. But after looking upon the child for a while, he seemed to change his mind. Even if the humans’ words sounded coarse to her ears, she felt that her son would be safe here. Now all she had to do was make sure the queen never found him.
She retreated to the cover of the trees. Originally, she had planned to return to the same place she had entered the Other World, but now she decided against it. She wanted to make it as difficult as she could for the queen. She would travel for a day and a night as far as she could from this crooked hut, and only then, with the aid of her sun spell, would she make the return passage to Albenmark. There she would follow the Albenpaths to the heartland and surrender to the queen.
The Queen’s Verdict
The soldiers found Noroelle beside the faun oak. She surrendered herself to them without resistance but did not betray the whereabouts of the child.
The swordsmen led her to the queen’s palace, their troop leader riding at the front. His name was Dijelon, a soldier so loyal that he was ready at any time to sacrifice himself for his queen. He had uncommonly broad shoulders for an elf, a characteristic not hidden by the blue cloak he wore nor by his long black hair. When the door to the Royal Hall opened in front of them, Dijelon paused in his stride.
Master Alvias was standing in front of him. The elderly elf did not so much as dignify Noroelle with a glance. “Follow me,” he said to Dijelon. “The rest of you are to wait here.”
Noroelle was not surprised at Alvias’s reaction. She was obviously being treated as an enemy. She stopped beneath the arch of the doorway and gazed into the hall. Nearly all of the queen’s court was present. They all wanted to be there to see the arrival of the fallen sorceress for themselves. Until the moment her child was born, Noroelle’s standing at court had steadily grown. But now, in a stroke, all of that was gone. Only the trees had held themselves aloof from the queen’s wrath. The faun oak had made her feel that everything had happened too fast for events to be seen in their true light.
Noroelle looked at the water that tumbled from the walls in foaming cascades. The queen clearly wanted to make sure that Noroelle knew the power waiting for her in the Royal Hall. The show of force was hardly necessary. Noroelle knew only too well that no one in Albenmark could stand up to the queen.
“We found her at the faun oak,” said Dijelon. “She would not reveal the whereabouts of the child.”
The water on the walls instantly ceased to fall, and a grim silence fell over the hall.
“Noroelle, the sorceress, returns.” The queen’s voice was quiet but filled the entire hall. “And she has no idea of the harm she has brought down on us. Give me one reason to let you set foot in my Royal Hall, Noroelle.”
“To banish me from it again with your judgment,” she responded.
“Then you accept that you have done something abhorrent?”
“Yes. I have opposed you. And no one who lives under your aegis should ever do that. But I am not only here to hear your verdict. I am also here to accuse.”
A murmur ran through the crowded hall. No one in Albenmark had ever challenged the queen so openly in her own court. But Noroelle had no intention of holding her tongue about what Emerelle had wanted to do to her child. It surprised her that the queen had convened this meeting so publicly. Like this, everything would be brought to light.
“Then step before the throne of Albenmark, if you dare.”
Noroelle hesitated for a moment, then stepped through the door and approached the queen’s throne. This time, the eyes of those she passed were utterly impassive to her.
She bowed before the queen and looked briefly to one side. Beside Master Alvias stood Obilee. Her young friend was close to tears.
“Before I decide your fate, I will hear what you have to say,” said the queen, her voice icy. “You said there was someone you wanted to accuse. Of whom do you speak?”
Clearly, of Emerelle. But Noroelle did not want to risk a direct attack on the queen in front of her entire court. “I accuse Dijelon,” she said instead. “I accuse him of coming to my home three days ago to kill my son.”
Noroelle saw the soldier stiffen. She knew that he had acted on the queen’s orders, and she was curious how far his loyalty went.
The queen glanced momentarily at Dijelon then back at Noroelle, as if only to ascertain that the soldier was still present. “Did he succeed?”
“No.”
“What do you think I should do in this case, Noroelle? Advise me.”
“I am not looking for amends, and I have no interest in seeing Dijelon punished. I would like to know only one thing. What made him want to take the life of my son?”
“Oh, Noroelle. You know that Dijelon’s fealty to his queen forbids him from answering. So I will answer for him. He was acting on my orders.” A murmur ran through the courtiers. “But am I correct in thinking this answer will not satisfy you? You are wondering how I, the queen of all assembled here, could order the death of one of her Albenkin.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then what if it were not one of the Albenkin, but—”
“He is my son, the child of an elf. That makes him a descendant of the Alben.”
The gathered elves were outraged at her interruption. The soldier Pelveric shouted, “How dare you,” and others supported him.
Emerelle remained calm. She raised her hand, and silence returned. “Noroelle, if you are the water, then the father of the child is fire.”
Noroelle realized what the queen was insinuating, and suddenly, she was afraid. “Tell me who the father of my child is. A human, is that it?” Noroelle asked. She thought of her son’s rounded ears.
“No. There have been liaisons between humans and elves before today. No, Noroelle.” She stood
. “Hear my words. Nothing is as it once was. On the night that Noroelle’s child was born, something was set in motion that we have to bring to an end, with all the power we possess. We have lived protected lives for so long, though we have had to battle trolls and dragons. I remember when the world that lies between ours and the humans’ still flourished. I know the deadliest of all threats. Never will I forget what the departing Alben allowed me to see. I witnessed the downfall of the Shattered World. I saw the final battle against the enemies of our ancestors, against the Devanthar.”
Noroelle went rigid. The name of the old enemy had never been spoken aloud in this hall.
“The beast Farodin and Nuramon went to hunt was a Devanthar,” said Emerelle. “It became clear to me when the wolf returned from the elfhunt, because the stench of that evil still clung to the poor creature, the stench of an evil supposed to have been defeated long ago.”
“Then a Devanthar killed Farodin and Nuramon?”
“I wish I could answer that. But one thing is certain. The Devanthar prevailed. It came to you that same night and conceived your child with you.”
The queen’s words left Noroelle feeling cold and numb. That was impossible. She had dreamed of Nuramon . . . and now the face in her dream was supposed to be that of a demon? She looked at those around her and saw the horror and revulsion on their faces. The soldiers behind her fell back. Even Obilee turned pale.
The queen continued. “When I saw the child, I was overcome by a dark suspicion of what its father was.” She pointed to her magic bowl. “And when, in my doubt, I looked into my mirror, the Devanthar’s deception was revealed to me. It penetrated our heartland, and we did not even notice it.”
The crowd in the hall was growing increasingly agitated. An uncle of Nuramon called out, “What if this demon is still here?”
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