“Welcome, human, to my humble household,” the elf said, his voice flowing like seductive honey. “I am glad that you could make it so promptly. Please, take a seat.”
Marcius nodded, his tongue suddenly heavy and unresponsive. He grabbed the chair in front of him, opposite of the elf, and sat down. Plates of food, steam gently wafting, waited on the table. The elf had been expecting guests. His stomach rumbled its appreciation.
“Do not be afraid to help yourself to that which you see before you,” the elf said, “There is no reason why you can't enjoy a good meal before we discuss why I requested your presence this day.”
The offer was tempting, but Marcius just couldn't do it. What was it about this elf that had him on edge? “Who are you?”
“Ah, straight to business, I see? Very well. 'Who am I' you ask? That is a many layered question, isn't it? I do believe what you meant was 'What are you', but I shall answer the question you put forth. Well, I am me. Unless you are asking for a name, then I'd say you could call me Velynere.”
Marcius shook his head, trying to orient himself and drive back the feeling of lethargy that had taken hold, Velynere's voice had such a smooth quality, placating, like silk between fingertips. It tried to lull him into security, that there was nothing to fear. But his senses warned him of danger, intangible, but still very real.
Velynere, resting the side of his head against a hand, noticed Marcius's struggle and smiled, revealing perfect white teeth that glistened. “Ah, I see that I was right about you. Have you noticed the effect I have? Of hopelessness, of blissful ignorance, that threatens to take over? Aye, I see the look in your eyes. 'What is he' it asks, yes? Well, that is something I will tell you, if you accept my offer.”
The apprentice shook his head, crashing his fist hard against the arm rest. There was an explosion of pain that lanced up his arm, but the fog in his head cleared. Pain, it seemed, was a way to combat the aura the elf exuded. “No,” he said through gritted teeth. He was tired of being controlled! “You will tell me now, or I won't listen to anything else you say.”
The elf sat back, cocking his head as he regarded Marcius with new light. “Ah, I see. Very well then.” Marcius nodded to himself, ignoring the throbbing of his hand; the elf needed him. It was about time he got some answers.
“What you see before you, young apprentice, is the end result of what happens to those who try and get back what they lost. More specifically, what a wizard becomes when he tries to reforge his shattered soul.”
Marcius stared at the elf, rifling through his words. What did he mean? The warning from Antaigne came unbidden into his mind. “You lost your familiar,” Marcius said, half question, half statement, “And you tried to do it again!”
The elf nodded, “Aye, I did. A fool's notion, when I look back on it. But I was hardly in the appropriate frame of mind. You know what it is like, though you are only separated by distance from yours.”
Marcius let out a ragged breath. He did indeed know. There was an ache in his chest, constantly yearning for the familiar touch of Faerill. He was literally and figuratively missing a part of himself. How might he act if he had lost his familiar?
He glanced up, back to the elf, “So, what are you, exactly?”
The smile Velynere shot back was one of reluctant acceptance. “I am a monster in the truest sense of the word. There are some benefits to this curse, of course. My life is extended, far beyond that of even an elf. My senses and physical prowess is increased as well. And I have gained the ability to do magic again.”
Marcius gaped at the elf, “Doesn't seem to be that bad, if you ask me.”
Velynere snorted, shifting in his chair. “Easy enough to say. You feel it, the sense of fear, of being shifted and afraid of what I am. I am not natural, an abomination of the most perverse kind. Listen to your senses, human. You know what I am.”
Marcius looked hard at the elf, digesting the facts he knew. “You are a predator,” he said slowly. “That is why you affect me so. I shouldn't trust you. You're dangerous.”
The elf smiled, “Aye. Very much so.”
The apprentice shook his head; it was too much to take in. “What do you want? I assume it isn't to kill me. I don't think the elves would do that to me.”
Velynere laughed, “No, I don't want anything like that. What I do want is to give you an offer. I believe we can help each other.”
“How can you help me, exactly? Why should I trust you?”
“Revenge, Marcius,” Velynere said, using the apprentice's name for the first time, “I know about your father and your Master. I also know the secret stirrings in your heart, the anger that boils under the surface. I. know.” The elf's eyebrow raised suggestively, “The people who stole that which you held dear, you wish to find, yes? I can help you find those responsible; I can help you become powerful enough to make them regret ever hurting those you loved. I can give you a means to that which you seek, where alone you might flounder.”
Hope rose in Marcius's chest. If such a solution was readily available, he'd be a fool not to accept. It was as Velynere said. He wanted them, whoever they were, to pay for taking those he loved from him. But the warning of Ken's tapestry, the teachings of Antaigne, the subtle suggestions of his father, came bubbling to the surface. Would they approve of him dealing with such a creature as this? It didn't take long for him to conclude that no, they would not.
“What do you get out of this? You're not offering help just to be nice.”
“Of course not. I have a little problem that you are uniquely suited to handling.”
“You could get the elves to handle it, if it was that important.”
Velynere picked up a wine glass, gently swishing the contents as he regarded Marcius with an amused look, “Hah! Hardly, human. Selenthia tolerates my presence because I am too powerful and useful as a resource to do away with. They keep me like a guard dog, chained close enough to keep an eye on, yet far enough away to quell the fear in their hearts. Look around you. I am a prisoner within a golden cage.” He winced at his own admission before giving a shrug, “Still, it isn't so bad. I preoccupy myself with my magic, my research, which brings me full circle as to why I need you.”
Marcius would have been lying if he said he wasn't at least curious as to why the thing in front of him needed a lowly apprentice's help. “Alright, there is no harm in at least listening. What are you proposing?”
“Let me lay out my offer to you first.” the elf said, setting down his glass carefully, before leaning forward on the table, “Two promises,” he said, raising a like number of fingers up, “One: I will answer the question that you will have upon conclusion of your training at the Academy.”
“What qu—”
“—you will know what the question is when you think of it,” he interrupted, drowning out Marcius's response. “It will be something that only I can answer. Two: I will train you further, once your Academy training is complete. I will give you the power and means to avenge your father and Master. I can give you the knowledge you crave, deep down in the darkest pits of your mind, Marcius.”
Marcius's breath hitched in his throat. Was it possible that this being spoke the truth? If so, everything he was striving for was within his fingertips. But, was that what he wanted? Was it so hard to just be left alone to practice magic? He was shaking his head, trusting his gut, before he even fully thought about the elf's offer. “No, things aren't that simple.” He could hear Jared and Alicia's disappointment if he'd just accept at face value what Velynere was saying. “You're promising me a lot of things, so you must be desperate.”
“No, not desperate, but something has caught my fancy recently,” Velynere said, but it was the cold amber eyes that shone with a hunger that had Marcius doubting the elf's words, “You see, I have recently come across the solution to a mystery that plagues these woods. You know of the Myst, yes?”
Marcius nodded, Selene's words came to the forefront of his mind. The elf continued. “The My
st is a byproduct of the intense amount of nether gathered here. It warps reality and makes. . . unnatural. . . occurrences and phenomenon. Up until now, we have had to depend on the spirit beasts, which generate an alear, a shield of sorts, to protect us from the warping and monsters that roam the Mysts. But, I have found a way to generate a false field that mirrors the spirit beast’s alear!”
“What does all of this have to do with me?” Marcius asked. Academic learning was something that always held a sway over him, but he doubted the elf forcibly invited him over to discuss theory.
“There are numerous parts of Selenthia that transform when the Myst takes over. Up until now, we've had no way to reliably explore them. I want you to investigate some information I've uncovered.”
“Why me?”
“Because you're best suited for it. I'm kept chained to this estate. A prisoner. The rest of Selenthia tactfully ignores or spits at my very existence. I had pulled many favors to even be allowed out for a brief respite, to attend your trial. Depending on how long this upcoming war lasts, there might not be another outsider willing to do this for another few hundred years. We have long memories and even longer grudges.”
“I don't know. . . ” Everything Velynere proposed was laced with logic, but there was something the elf was leaving out.
“Look,” Velynere said, reaching into a pocket along his side. He pulled out a simple looking amulet. The large stone in the center was clear, and a thin wisp of hair seemed to float in the milky depths, caught in stasis. “This will shield you from the Myst and will alert you when you get near what I am looking for. Just say the word imprinted on the back to activate it. Wait until night, when the Myst is thick and follow where it takes you. Bring anything you find back to me and I'll reward you handsomely. Think about it.”
Marcius couldn't help himself. He reached out, taking the offered amulet from the elf. It was cold in his hands, a certain lack of warmth that extended farther than it should have. The stone flashed brightly as it spun slowly on its chain.
He glanced warily up at the elf. Every fiber of his being, every ounce of logic imparted on him by his father and Antaigne, all screamed to not trust this thing. And it was a thing, he was sure of that. Even the movements of Velynere came out wrong, off-center, twisted subtly by whatever pact he made to reattain his familiar. The actions were that of a predator, a certain economy of movement reserved for a creature that depended on being just a little faster, smarter, or stronger than whatever it was they were trying to kill.
He shouldn't do it. He knew that. There was more to this than the elf was saying. It was obvious. But what about his father? What about Antaigne? Where was the justice that Jared so often spoke of? Velynere was offering something that Marcius knew was a double edged sword, but perhaps the risk was worth the reward?
He pocketed the amulet slowly. “I'll have to think about it.” Marcius tried to ignore the hunger that erupted in the elf's eyes.
Chapter 26
Velynere managed to hold onto his smile and amiability until after Marcius left, but his true nature came forth the moment the grateful apprentice had shut the door behind him. The elf growled, slapping aside a bowl of venison. It bounced off the wall and shattered, spraying the entire area with shards of pottery and globs of meat. The nerve of that human! That child! Telling him that he'd “think about it”!
He flexed his hand, relishing in the strength he felt, the unnatural result of his experiments. Still, he was sure that he laid the appropriate groundwork to entice the human. He could see the yearning, the anger, the need to get retribution in the apprentice's face. Yes, he was sure the human would decide favorably.
Velynere stood and went to a worn bookshelf. Reaching a hand along the back of the case, he traced the edges until his fingers sunk into a slight indention. He pushed and there was an audible click, the shelf sliding along the floor to reveal a passage behind. He didn't bother to take a candle with him as he navigated the darkened hallway; the elf no longer had need for such things for he could see as easily in the dark as one could on a well-lit day.
Down the winding passage he continued, until he came upon a stout door wrought with chains and iron. His eyes dipped into the nether as he pushed his hand against the seemingly solid door, the metal twisting and bending as the illusion shriveled and curled up like leaves in a fire to reveal an open doorway. The rest of his body followed and the magical sigils, traps designed to explode violently, gave way for their maker, allowing Velynere to walk calmly into a dim room.
“Back again? Don't you ever have enough?!” a voice said harshly from the corner. A figure was chained to the wall, the metal clinking as the person struggled to stare directly at Velynere.
“Now, Ganiele, I'd like to think after all we shared that you'd at least be pleasant to me.”
“Go rot at Dryken's feet, you monster!” the elven mage spat feebly, his strength giving away mid-sentence.
In a flash, Velynere closed the distance between them, his hand latching onto the mage’s chin. “Like I said, you should be pleasant.” He gave one last shake for emphasis before releasing the elf.
Velynere turned a critical eye at his captive. Ganiele's hair hung around his face, the former luxurious mane now nothing more than a stringy substitute. His skin had pallor, like death warmed over. He didn't give the elven mage much more time alive; it was amazing he still managed such resistance in this condition.
“Now, my elven friend, the question is: are you hiding anything else in that head of yours? I met the human you mind-melded with, and I know you must have more in there for me, yes?”
There! He saw it! The slight widening of the eyes, affirming his suspicions. He quickly grabbed the elven mage's head between his hands. “Let's just see what you're hiding, yes?”
He mind-melded, forcibly entering Ganiele's thoughts and memories. Nothing was sacred as he rummaged around; relishing in the mental pain he was causing the elf. Eventually he found it, there in a secluded recess of the elf's mind. How had he missed it before? A way for him to get the human to do what he wanted! No wonder Ganiele had hidden the information the first couple times Velynere had probed his mind.
Ganiele slumped when Velynere released him, the thin body heaving in exertion and pain. Surprisingly, the elven mage managed, with some difficulty, to look back up at him. “You'll never get away with this, abomination! They will question where I've gone. There will be inquiries!”
Velynere laughed in his face. “Come on, we both know that is nothing more than a bluff. Why else do you think you were sent here to request my presence at the trial? You were betrayed by the Elders, foolish mage. You were nothing more than a sacrifice, an incentive, to buy my cooperation. Your own people sold you, like a common trinket. How does that make you feel?”
The mage's silence spoke volumes and the ever-present hunger reared its head. Velynere gave in, grabbing the elf forcibly by the neck and lifting him by one hand with unnatural strength, pulling until the entire elf, chains and all, was stretched tight from the wall. A single finger, flaring red, touched Ganiele lightly on the forehead, and the elven mage's eyes widened with fear, “Please, no,” he begged, “No more. . . ”
“I am sorry,” Velynere whispered. And, somewhere deep inside he truly was. But he had to feed off the pure, untainted souls of other mages to quell the intense hunger of his curse. Ganiele had provided him with much sustenance these last few days, but this would probably kill him.
The hunger didn't care.
A tendril of green, thin and flowing like smoke, snaked out of the elf's forehead, and attached to Velynere's finger. It wiggled and thrashed, but the nether wraith continued to pull, half forcing, half coaxing the tendril out. Ganiele began to shudder, his eyes rolling back in his head and a low moan escaped his mouth.
There was one final gasp as the tendril snapped out. Ganiele slumped against his chains as Velynere let him go.
The nether wraith wasn't even paying the mage any longer, instead he wa
s focused on the thrashing soul sliver perched on his fingertip. He brought it close, and his eyes began to glow as he gazed upon it hungrily.
His mouth opened unnaturally wide and the tendril whipped back. It swirled into his mouth and he arched in pleasure as the sustenance began to surge through him. The rush was all consuming, as it always was, and it took him a few moments of delirium before he was able to come down from the euphoric high; enough to see if the elven mage was even alive.
He wasn't.
Velynere didn't mind. It was good while it lasted, and the hunger was satiated, for now. Besides, he had what he needed. He knew what he had to do to force the apprentice human mage into action.
Selene didn’t say much when Marcius arrived at the gate, and he fell into step with her naturally as they began the long trip back to Selenthia. His mind was swirling with possibilities. Did he really want to go this route? Was it worth it?
The elf, for her part, kept silent, perhaps sensing that Marcius wasn’t in the mood to talk. They made surprising time back, and Marcius spent the next couple days alternating between just laying on his bed, lost in memories, and staring at the necklace Velynere had given him.
By the time a ten-day had passed, he had acquired an acute sense of cabin fever. The eyes of Antaigne and his father haunted his dreams and hung in his mind while he was awake. He had to do something, anything, yet summoning the motivation to do so was another thing entirely.
He was lying on his bed, staring at the crystal, replaying various scenarios in his head when a knock on his door roused him from his stupor. “Marcius?” Selene asked, walking into the room to stand at the foot of his bed. She was dressed for travel. “Get your trail clothing on and be outside within the hour.”
She then turned and left before Marcius could say anything in response. Lethargically, he moved to comply, and eventually he was stepping out into the sun, something he hadn’t seen in a while.
A Dead God's Tear (The Netherwalker Trilogy) Page 39