A Dead God's Tear (The Netherwalker Trilogy)

by Eisenhardt, Leighmon

  Something in the elf’s gaze stirred a part in Marcius and he found himself stepping forward before he fully realized why he was doing so. “Tiarle, Lorisen. Ai’le de Marcius,” he said, his hand performing the expected motions.

  He was rewarded with obvious surprise, and the elf gave a hearty laugh. “Ah, Battle-Mistress, I like this human more than the Morlian raethl already!”

  Selene gave a tight-lipped smile. “Well, he did receive a full pardon, but I’m sure you already know that with how fast news travels around here. Anything to report?”

  The two lapsed into a flurry of elvish, and to Marcius it sounded like a whole lot of nothing. Marcius just followed and tried to be as unobtrusive as possible. He was distinctly aware of being the focus of attention of every elf that was on the training grounds, but did his best to ignore it.

  They neared the double doors of the main building and it was here that Lorisen paused, obviously not intending to follow them into the dwelling. “Well,” he said in common, for Marcius’s benefit, “that’s all I have to report, Battle-Mistress. I’ll be heading back to oversee the training.”

  Then he looked at Marcius, “And you, human, what an interesting person you are. I look forward to the trouble you cause!” and the elf laughed, clapping Marcius heartily on the back like they were best friends, before turning around and waving as he walked off.

  “What was that about?” Marcius asked, a little confused.

  “You learned our customs,” Selene said, as if that should answer everything. “It might be a small thing to you, but we are creatures of habit and it’s something to be noted when someone, especially a human, learns it on his own.”

  “What do you mean? All I did was read the scroll and copy it.”

  “That greeting you did is one of great respect, one of the highest of our people when addressing a superior. To us, it paints you as someone who is humble, and, especially for a human, that is remarkable.”

  Marcius didn’t know what to make of that, so he didn’t say anything. “What’s a raethl?” he asked instead.

  Selene’s laughter sent pleasant shivers down his spine, “Not a nice word. What horses do when they drink too much water! Let me show you where you will be staying.”

  ❧　❧　❧

  Marcius awoke violently, and for a moment panic set in as he didn’t recognize his surroundings. But his rational side took over as the fog of sleep cleared. This was the room Selene had given him to stay in. Nothing to worry about. With a huff he flipped over, pulling his covers tighter as he tried to go back to sleep.

  The unfamiliar press of sheets against his body mixed with the alien surroundings poked and prodded him until at last he swung himself out of bed with a frustrated sigh. It was something in his dream that initially woke him up, he felt. But the dream had begun fading as soon as his eyes had opened and all that was left was a shadow, the slightest of hints, as to what it was.

  His feet were cold on the wooden floor as he padded over to the table and, using the small candle that stayed burning, he lit a larger one that flooded the small room in an orange light. The room the elf had given him was not the largest, but it had a desk, spacious bed with comfortable sheets, a shelf full of books that the scholarly part of him couldn’t wait to devour, and overall, it was far nicer than the cell he had come from which wasn’t so bad in itself. Though he didn’t intend to make it a habit, his first imprisonment went fairly well. So why did he feel so off center, outside of his comfort zone? Was it only because he was far away from home, or was it because for the first time in his life he had no one there to support him?

  He ached for the relaxing familiarity of his friends and loved ones. He felt out of place here, a stranger in strange lands. He was an oddity, an inconvenience. Part of him just wanted to run and never look back. . .

  Another part of Marcius, the greedy hidden side of him, thirsted for the knowledge here. Selenthia was ancient when the human kingdoms were young. He wanted to learn, to become better. He was tired of being a burden, and he wanted payback for whomever it was that stole his father and Master from him.

  A rumble from his stomach alerted him to another, more immediate, problem. Selene had said that he was a guest here and was welcome to come to her for anything he needed. Well he was hungry, but it was late and it would be rude to just wake her up. Briefly he entertained what type of attire she might sleep in, but purged those thoughts away, feeling guilty.

  Gently opening the door and easing it behind him, he crept out into the hallway, noiseless as a mouse. He wondered where exactly elves kept their food. Selene’s estate was far larger inside than it appeared. It was partially underground. Marcius had to navigate by touch and by leapfrogging to the staggered torches that lined the walls. He grumbled a bit at their seemingly haphazard placement, but maybe elves had better sight than a human and didn’t need them? Either way, it was annoying. He wished he had the forethought to bring a candle with him, but laziness prevented him from going back to his room.

  Eventually he made it to the main hallway. Now, if he was a kitchen, where would he be? Mentally marking the door he exited from, he made his way toward where the entrance was, to a large set of doors he remembered passing on the way to his room. It seemed a logical place to start.

  They were unlocked and he slipped in. Marcius was surprised that they led outside to what was something that looked like a large, rectangular outdoor garden. The night air was cool against his skin, drying the bit of nervous sweat he had worked up. A stone pathway circled the perimeter and a single gnarled tree stood in the center, like an old guardian frozen in time.

  Moonlight saturated the area and it took several moments for his adjusting eyes to see the lone figure of Selene leaned against the tree. Marcius held his breath. The elf had dressed down to a simple sleeveless green robe tied at the waist with a thin rope. Her pale skin glowed and the light seemed to emphasize every delicate curve of her body.

  But the thing that tugged at his heart strings the strongest was the slightest hint of tenderness in her expression. Marcius had never seen this before in the normally aggressive elf. She was beautiful and it was delicious torture to just look at her, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away.

  She seemed to be deep in thought, staring up at the stars of the night sky. More importantly, she hadn’t noticed him. Marcius’s preservation instincts kicked in and he decided that perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to stick around.

  “You’re up late.” Selene’s words sliced through the air. He jumped, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the sweet jar.

  “How’d you know I was here?”

  She grinned lightly, running a hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she tore her gaze from the sky to look at him, “Only a human could be so loud trying to be quiet.”

  Marcius couldn’t help but laugh, his nervousness ebbing away a bit at the levity, “Well, I don’t live for hundreds of years learning to be quiet like you elves do.”

  “True.” It was the way she said the word that made Marcius pause. It had a tone of lingering sadness to it, “Come, and join me. The night is clear and it is a rare treat in Selenthia to be able to see so much of the sky when the sun sets.”

  He nodded and each step felt like his feet were leaden and dead. “Does Selenthia normally have cloudy skies?” he asked, stopping a few respectful feet from the elf. He looked up at the stars and had to agree with Selene. It was stunning. He wondered if Jarrod, Alicia, and Faerril were looking at it too.

  “It would be wise for you to be careful exploring Selenthia at night. A dangerous Myst usually rises when the sun sets and there are things that wander the mists that mortals should never see.”

  “Myst?”

  Selene scrunched her nose, “Aye, I do not know how else to explain it other than that Selenthia is alive with magic. I just thought to warn you to be careful should you think to go wandering again.”

  Marcius didn’t know how to respond to that, so he nodde
d woodenly. Selenthia was just so unlike anything he had ever known. It was like he had entered another world. Of course he could tell it was alive. It practically pulsed beneath his feet. If his familiar was here, he was sure the entire area would be vibrant with power.

  “So,” he said to break the silence, “Do you often come out here?”

  “Aye, every chance I get. It serves well to clear your thoughts and reflect on things that have happened. I also love looking at the stars.”

  “Ah, yeah, I guess.” Marcius felt like being a little bold, “What’s on your mind, if I may ask?”

  The elf threw him a shrewd glance and he thought perhaps he was too daring, but she leaned back, turning her eyes once more to the sky, “Things,” she said wistfully and then gave him a more calculating look. “May I ask you a question?”

  “Yes?”

  “Will you tell me what it is like being human?”

  “What’s it like to be human?” Marcius repeated slowly, rolling the idea around, “I don’t know, really, how to explain it. I mean, can a fish tell you what it is to swim? I’m me, and that’s human. I could ask you what it is to be an elf.”

  She laughed, “I guess that question was broad.”

  “You could say that.”

  “I’m just curious, is all. I’ve not had many encounters with humans.”

  “I thought you were fighting-“

  “Many positive encounters with humans,” she corrected before he could finish, “You are the first human I’ve talked to that I haven’t killed.”

  How was one supposed to respond to something like that? She was just so blunt with everything. He decided to overlook it. “Well, I guess I can just tell you things from my past, growing up and things.”

  He was not expecting the way her eyes lit up, and his heart thrilled at the sight, “Would you? Truly?”

  “Well, I didn’t know you held so much interest in humans. You seemed to be pretty set in getting rid of me.”

  “No, not exactly. It’s just that I don’t trust humans. They’re too. . . unpredictable. I’ve been fighting them for a while, now. These rumors of war have been lingering for a years. If you’ve seen the things that I’ve seen, the things that humans can do, maybe you’d understand.”

  “Then why the curiosity?” Marcius responded, feeling the heat in his temples. “I mean, if you’ve decided that we’re worthless and terrible as a species, why not just continue hating us and not bothering?”

  She let out a ragged breath, “I don’t know. It’s not that simple. I mean, it was when this first started. You’re evil and bad, and we’re good and right. Good side, bad side. But the more I think about it, the more I see what fighting does and brings about, for both sides, the more I disagree with it. With it all.”

  “So you want to learn about us? Give us the benefit of the doubt?”

  “Simply said, but yes. Don’t get me wrong, Morlia will pay for their crimes, but maybe it isn’t right to judge everyone by the same standard? We are elves, the First Born. We were built to be perfect by the Gods. And yet they abandoned us to create you humans? Humanity is greedy, corrupt, weak and short-lived. Why is it that you continue to flourish while we are in decline? Next to you, we seem stagnant. Why?”

  She seemed torn, and the initial anger Marcius had felt died down to a gentle simmer. What harm could it do? Marcius didn’t know exactly where to start, so he just talked, hoping to give her something worthwhile and letting the path of his thoughts wander from topic to topic.

  He told her of the first time he had met Antaigne, of the people who lived in his house, about Jared. It got easier the more he talked, and as he continued, he was mildly surprised at a sense of peace that came over him. He didn’t feel nearly as lonely when he relived his memories of his friends and family. Marcius was talking for himself as much as he was for Selene.

  It was unreal in how attentive she was, occasionally asking him to clarify a point. He was enjoying having the beautiful elf’s attention all to himself.

  Hours passed before she finally raised a hand, signaling him to stop. “Enough,” she said with a light smile as Marcius’s stomach chose this moment to announce its anger at being ignored. “I have stolen your attention long enough. There is more to this than a single night will reveal, that is obvious. We have plenty of time and I do believe we have another problem we must address. I will show you to our kitchens.”

  Marcius nodded. He realized how ravenous he really was. He fell into step beside the elf, surprised at how comfortable he felt in her presence now.

  “I hope you enjoy your stay in our city, Marcius. It has been a long time since someone not with the Academy wandered these grounds. Might be even longer after you leave. You don’t seem to be a bad sort. Later in the day I will show you around more.”

  His heart did a little flip. She didn’t exactly profess her unending love for him, but it was probably as good as he’d get from the normally aloof elf. Still, something bugged him. “Selene, I don’t want to press the issue, but who were those two I pointed out at the trial?”

  Her face darkened, “You are not going to forget about it?”

  He shrank from her glare, but still shook his head. “No, I feel it’s important. They made me feel uneasy. I could feel them watching me. I think I have the right to know who they were.”

  “Uneasy?” and a thoughtful look crossed her face. She didn’t say anything for a few awkward moments. Marcius began to wonder if she’d say anything at all, then she leaned against the door way, crossing her arms. Selene’s voice was barely a whisper. “The woman is my mother. She’s of the elder caste, so I don’t see her much. The thing with her. . . is an abomination and should have been destroyed centuries ago.”

  She pushed off from the doorway, pointedly refusing to meet his gaze. Something didn’t match up though. “Wait, your mother? I thought you were of the warrior caste? Does it usually jump castes like that?”

  Marcius knew he had erred as the words left his mouth. Selene whipped around, her hand lashing out like a viper that struck Marcius across the jaw, throwing him down to the ground. He curled up in pain as Selene towered over him, her face a mask of fury. “Human, you astound me. You come here, full of questions, stomping around like an oggron in mating season. I thought you were some wizard? Of all people, you should know that words have power and some questions are best when left unasked. Back to your room and out of my sight! Go!”

  Coughing and spewing apologies, Marcius stumbled haphazardly out from the heat of her glare, desperate to orient himself, he somehow managed to find his room in a haze of half fallen tears and pained confusion.

  Closing the door, he leaned against it, breathing heavily. How could he have been so dense? He completely demolished the rapport he had built up with the elf with a single question. Marcius flopped down in bed, his mind spinning. Why did she get so mad? No matter how he picked at the question, it only led to more questions. Defeated, Marcius slumped into bed; maybe the morning would bring more answers.

  Sleep refused to come and he spent a long time tossing and turning.

  Sometime later, an elven servant brought a tray of food to the door, and the tentative look on the young elf’s face was enough to let him know the whole house probably knew of what happened by now. Marcius couldn’t even look directly at the girl as he took the food, mumbling something that hopefully could be a thank you.

  He closed the door and stared at the plate in his hand. At least this meant she didn’t completely hate him, or was it just duty for her? He growled. Why did things have to turn out like this?

  He didn’t touch the food. Marcius found he suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore.

  Chapter 24

  You won’t always be able to resist me.

  Erinaeus grinded his teeth, willing away the consciousness that had enveloped his own, pushing it away with practiced precision. It had been a while since his familiar had made itself heard. He had begun to hope that perhaps it would be silent forever,
but it was obvious that the malicious creature had been waiting for him to drop his guard.

  One day you will slip and you will be mine.

  “Away with you,” he growled, reaching up and squeezing his temples. “There is no power you have over me.”

  The voice, an echoing cavern in the wizard’s mind, laughed. I hold all the power. It was our bargain. A little piece of you in exchange for your familiar back, yes? How long, little pet, before the corruption takes you? How long before it spreads from your eye?

  He stopped his traitorous hand midway to his face. “Quiet!” Erinaeus hissed, “I am your master, and you are my familiar. Obey your contract!”

  Was it worth it? To regain the ability of magic? You are rotting, dissolving and you will soon be mine. It is inevitable.

  “Not if I can help it.”

  The creature laughed again. I know of your plan and it will fail. There is naught you can do. We are connected and soon we shall be one.

  The wizard was about to respond when a tentative knock came from the door. With great effort, he smothered the foreign consciousness within his mind, using his own considerable will to subvert it, quiet it. He noted with silent concern that it was getting harder each time to do so.

  “What is it?” he replied, quickly opening up a tome as the person walked in. It was one of his messengers, clothing still dusty from traveling.

  “Sire, I think you should see this report from our contacts in Harcourt.”

  Erinaeus exhaled, looking up from the tome he was pretending to study. “You do realize where the drop off is for reports, correct?”

  The messenger gulped visibly as Erinaeus’s eye flared an angry reddish hue, but remarkably, the man stood his ground. “Aye, sire, but I felt this important enough to bring to your attention immediately.”

  Erinaeus made a pointed show of slowly closing the large tome, taking a delectable sense of pleasure in seeing the man squirm. Finally, he held out his hand, his every movement indicating strained patience. It felt good to make someone squirm after the disconcerting conversation with his familiar.