Evenstars of Aeweniel
Page 12
What answer can I give that won’t enrage her further? Seems I’m doomed no matter what I say. In circles, her mind raced with nowhere to land; she felt helpless. For Limwen’s sake, though, she would speak the truth. Nerves firing in her belly, she replied, “Per-perchance what you thought was love was a delusion. I… I can’t believe Thalion could ever love someone so w-w-wicked as you.”
Medlinya lunged toward her, and she could feel the dagger’s point teasing her jugular. “Aren’t you an insolent little wench!”
“I only d-d-did as you asked. I… I…” She fought to ease her fear; still, her heart pounded till it burned like an open wound doused with ice water. She wanted to scream but strove instead to rein in her terror.
“Ha! Cat got your tongue?” The princess sneered and raised her pale brows in anticipation of words Sparrow left unsaid. Tracing the girl’s lips with the dagger, she said, “If not, I could always sever it and feed it to one myself.”
Words failed Sparrow, as did her spirits.
There’s no reasoning with her. She thrives on torment. Only vile things dwell in that dark heart of hers. Nothing more.
Medlinya reached out to grab the Isilmë pendant, but the stone sparked blue flames and jolted her hand back. She shrieked in pain and looked at her blistering fingers, then cast the girl a malicious glare. The princess tore away from the bed, her mood more agitated and confidence rattled.
“Don’t think falsely, my dear. Your precious moonstone will never save you. Thalion has blindly chosen his path, the one on which I have yet to break you. And I will”—Sparrow screamed as the wooden shackles jerked her limbs—“break you!” Another violent wrench sent her wailing in agony. “And once I’m done with you, I’ll break him too!”
“Please, don’t hurt Thalion!” she cried. The pain of losing him, she feared, was far worse than any malice Medlinya had yet to unleash. “I’ll leave Aeweniel! Just please, please, don’t hurt him!”
Like a mother receiving a homesick child, her face softened. She then sauntered toward the bed, sidled up to the girl, and whispered, “The only way you’ll be leaving Aeweniel is in a pine box.” The hard lines of her mouth and brows returned as Medlinya leered down at her. “And you’ll have Thalion to thank for it!”
Those words choked Sparrow’s heart. Sparing Thalion, if not herself as well, was all she hoped for. If only I had left Aeweniel when I had the chance. Rejecting Medlinya would cost him his life—of that she was certain. The princess was too powerful, and her penchant for evil, for revenge, was stronger by far. Nothing good can come of this. She thrashed against the bed, trying in vain to loosen her bindings, but they resolved to steal every inch of freedom from her and left no slack. Exhausted, she fell limp, panting clouds of fog into the air. Only then did she realize how brisk the approaching night had become.
Limwen squawked and fluttered her wings as she struggled to free herself; how Sparrow wished to help her. But then she heard the owl shriek when Medlinya wailed dark words in a savage tongue. And a short while after, the bird only cooed.
“Don’t hurt her,” she tried shouting. Though broken as Sparrow was, she could only muster a whisper. She begged for sleep as the howling gales brewed in the oak and its branches flailed above. Their tentacles blackened against the twilight when one flared, haloed in blue, surpassing all the others as it stretched out like a lightning bolt. Crackling cut into the winds when its tip diverged into five long fingers, black and boney. They quivered against the rushing winds circling through the canopy.
Mesmerized by the sight, Sparrow looked on when the colossal hand hesitated, as though in thought, then swung through the gazebo’s aperture and clawed at her throat, throttling her. Her mouth gaped as she struggled to breathe like a fish on dry land. To no avail, she wrestled to free herself and then watched as the floral clusters of scarlet, violet, and cerulean painted to shades of ash, raining upon her their withered petals.
I’ll never see my sweet Thalion again, whispered in her head before she swooned and her blush face paled.
CHAPTER 17
REGARDING LADY MAPLE
The auburn-haired elf was reclined on one of the blue velvet settees in the great hall, a forearm draped over his eyes while he sat across from Saeldur. As Thalion took his place beside his friend, he suspected their exchange had not fared well between them. The tension in the cavernous chamber was thick and palpable.
“Spare me your judgment. I’ve already heard enough.” The elf dropped his arm to glare at the Spiritswayer before riveting his cool green eyes on Thalion.
“I’m not here to judge you,” he said, staggered by his biting tone. “Neither was Saeldur’s intention to do so, I’m sure. But you need help.” He steadied his gaze on his brother, but Aranhil broke away, fixating on the flicker of lights and shadows born from the amber spheres above.
“What help do you intend to offer? You can’t bring Evelyn back from the dead now, can you?”
“Were it in my power to do so, I would. Sadly, it’s not. But if there’s a way I can—”
“I’ve already told Saeldur: My insatiable lust for Lady Maple, as he calls it, is all that I need,” Aranhil snarled.
Thalion heard his friend fume air from his nose in frustration. After clearing his throat, he paused, made uneasy by his brother’s response; he tried to sweeten his words. “I want to understand. What needs does she fulfill? Is she, perchance, an escape from Evelyn’s memory?”
“That I’ll never elude. But now I’ve found love again in Lady Maple.” Aranhil noticed his dubious countenance and waited for his brother to counter him. But Thalion remained silent, so he continued, “Our couplings have a purpose. My love for her will conjure up the elven lady from her bewitched arboreal form.”
Thalion was stunned. These words he had not expected.
“And you know this how?”
“Because she revealed it to me,” he replied, staring into the amber glow of the mineral pit, “how only one’s love will release her from the curse she’s endured for so many years.”
Thalion discerned an emerald liveliness in his eyes, where only a somber green lived since Evelyn’s passing. Could he truly be in love with Lady Maple? With elves, the eyes never lie. Still, he was suspicious of the arboreal lady’s words and uncomfortable with his brother’s eagerness to believe them. “How do you know she speaks the truth?”
“As I’ve told our friend here, I have no words to explain it, only the feelings she stirs within me speak of her sincerity.” Aranhil dripped with tedium, one by one plucking burrs from his black trousers and flicking them into the air.
“And as I tried to tell you,” Saeldur finally interjected, “your heart is heavy with sorrow. Ergo, you are vulnerable to her suggestions.” He grabbed a goblet from the ledge of the mineral pit and took a healthy gulp of the sweet wine.
“Considering all that’s befallen me, I’d say I deserve some happiness,” Aranhil growled. He swung both legs off the settee and sat up, glouting at the Spiritswayer. The glowing rocks flecked light, carving ominous shadows along his face.
“None of us will deny you that.” Thalion turned gloomy. How could we deny you even a glimmer of joy after losing Evelyn? he thought, that dreadful night still clear as yesterday. Though, in truth, it was five moons past.
One autumn eve, his dragon was flying through the pale-starred sky when he had glimpsed three figures under a lone oak amidst a glade. From a distance, it had appeared one was struggling against the other two, but he was uncertain. Concerned, the dragon had swooped toward them to investigate, the clearing strewn with crimson, orange, and amber leaves tumbling closer as he did. To his horror, he saw the dark princesses torturing poor Evelyn. Medlinya was shouting at the girl while Helegil flogged her with a whip. Fury boiled within him, and he roared such that the wind shook the ancient oaks and pines nearby.
When they heard his angry flaxen beast approaching, the elven twins snapped around and fled toward the depths of the forest. While Medlinya
rode off on her swift blue roan, her sister trailed yards behind, afoot. It was she who bore the brunt of Thalion’s wrath when his dragon caught up with her and spewed a fire cloud that lashed her billowing black velvet cloak, setting it ablaze. Helegil flailed in flames of cobalt, vermilion, and gold, screeching like a hawk, and rolled on the ground to extinguish the blaze. For a few seconds, his own fire blinded him. Then the flames dissipated into vapors before him like warping heat waves off a scorching desert terrain. When the waves subsided, he realized Medlinya had escaped.
The beast circled back to where Evelyn was and then shifted into his elven form. And his heart stopped for what seemed forever. The twins had hung the girl by the neck from a gnarled oak, the tips of her boots, newly scuffed, barely within reach of a boulder beneath her. She stood tiptoed on the rock to keep from hanging. But they whipped poor Evelyn to weaken her, thus sealing her fate. The thought of her last few torturous minutes on earth made his stomach rumble and legs rubbery until he dropped to his knees, clung to the large rock, and retched on the surrounding wood sorrel. Thalion had kneeled there for a moment, thinking on Aranhil, on the anguish Evelyn’s death would bring him. He had staggered to his feet and loosened her limp body from the oak. She was clad in an emerald gown, its brass buttons chased with tiny flowers. The rich green had always brought out the caramel highlights of her eyes and chestnut hair. Beautiful eyes closed to us forever now, he had thought.
Aranhil huffed with impatience, bringing Thalion back from his musing. “No,” he heard himself say aloud, “we don’t wish to deny you finding love again. But remember the lost elves of Thorondil who live in the trees of Forest Lothuial. The flora and fauna of Aeweniel are no strangers to bewitchment—and some of a cunning kind. How do you know her true nature?”
“Because I trust who she says she is, but you wouldn’t understand.” Frustrated, Aranhil raked his fingers through his tousled hair. It fell to his shoulders and shone in bright coppery shades under the amber lights above.
“We’re just asking you to exercise caution.” His brother’s gaunt appearance did not go unnoticed by him. His aquamarine doublet and black trousers, blemished with earth and prickly burrs, fit more loosely than Thalion remembered.
“Yes. There’s no harm in forgoing your visits with Lady Maple until I scrutinize her claims.” Saeldur swallowed more wine before placing his goblet down. “Perchance there’s something more telling within my tomes that will shed light on her true origin.”
His thoughts wandered to the Spiritswayer’s growing penchant for that sweet vintage before catching his friend’s blue eyes pressing him for agreement. “Oh, of course. I think our friend gives wise counsel here.” But Thalion started to wonder if asking Aranhil to delay his visits with Lady Maple would deprive him of this newfound joy he was experiencing since Evelyn’s passing. How can I steal from him such happiness? Then again, why would their rendezvous deplete him of his energy?
On the rolled parchment Limwen delivered to him at Dragonfire, Saeldur wrote how he had encountered his brother while riding Raina through the forest foraging for medicinal plants. The Spiritswayer had found him asleep, sprawled over a patch of mushrooms, listless to the world. And when he had offered him a ride back to his cavern, Aranhil could hardly rouse the verve to mount his horse, let alone enough to hold on to Raina so he would not fall off before arriving there.
While he wanted him to be happy, Thalion found Lady Maple’s physical effect on him troubling, and he felt obligated to tell his brother so. He inhaled long as he contemplated his next words with caution; though he was unsure if what was yet unsaid would matter. “You know with elves it’s lack of love that ails us, so why are you so weak whenever you—”
Aranhil lurched off the settee and bounded toward the alcove. “A small sacrifice for my happiness. And hers,” he replied, staring at the limestone wall. He laid his hand upon it and the main door opened before him. The elf turned to face them and added, “She needs me, as I need her. But you wouldn’t understand,” before darting out the door.
Thalion jumped off the settee, but Saeldur seized him by the arm. “I fear he is too far gone. So immersed he is in Lady Maple’s enchantment, he is drowning in it.” His friend’s effort at reasoning with him did nothing. The sickening lump in his throat tumbled down into his stomach like a sack of rocks.
“All the more reason why I can’t abandon hope for my brother.” Thalion then flinched from the Spiritswayer and sprinted out the door.
CHAPTER 18
LIMWEN’S RETURN
Saeldur cradled the fragile owl in his hands, passing onto her his healing energy, a cool white light haloed in radiant gold. Her vibrant chartreuse eyes were no longer visible, hidden by leaden lids. Soon after, her coos merged into tremulous purrs, and she appeared to have fallen asleep.
When she had arrived, she was lethargic from her flight, having flown a considerable distance despite the pain from her injury. In his swiftness to catch up to his brother, Thalion had almost trampled the wretched owl; she was sprawled upon the dew-chilled stone of the cavern’s doorstep. What saved Limwen from becoming carrion under his boots were the peridot orbs of Orin and Oriel, who flew to her aid to comfort her, their wings buzzing as they floated above her head. And under the faerie lights, the elf saw the brilliance of her eyes cloud over.
“She suffered a blow to her abdomen, one forceful enough to have fractured her lower ribs,” said the healer, keeping his hands and attention on the injured owl. “I am amazed she made the journey home.”
Unsettled, with a twinge of guilt, Thalion pitied the poor bird. He wondered if he was to blame for what misfortune befell her. After all, he had invited her to stay and keep Sparrow company at the cliffs. Yet he was also anxious for the Spiritswayer to perform the revealing, to learn what transpired at Dragonfire while he was gone, and how she was harmed.
On Saeldur’s advice, he had agreed not to fly off in haste to check on Sparrow as he had wished; instead, he stayed at the cavern. But healing Limwen was a priority, the Elven Master had advised him, since a revealing could not be performed on a sickly or injured animal. To do so would be detrimental to the creature. In truth, too, such accounts were always muddled by the animal’s ill mood; thus, they were never lucid.
Still, Thalion’s blood simmered with impatience. Maybe one of the possible scenarios Saeldur rambled on about was right, and she was injured during her trip from Dragonfire. But why did she fly back to begin with? Did Sparrow send for him? Was she in danger? These thoughts troubled him.
The owl’s raspy squawks and fluttering wings jerked him from his incessant questioning. Turning toward the impressive redwood table where she lay, he saw the translucent white and gold shimmer about the healer’s hands dissipate. The yellow-green of Limwen’s eyes popped against the black sheen of her plumage. They roamed the plethora of shelves spilling over with ambrosial herbs, weathered tomes, and glass bottles of luminescent liquids like she was a bewildered stranger in a mysterious land.
“You certainly are more spritely than when you came, little one.” Saeldur petted the tufts of disheveled feathers atop her crown. With his finger, he traced the air over the rainbowed niche of elixirs and potions before picking out a bottle of iridescent plum tincture. From it, he poured a few drops on the back of his hand and offered it to her. “Just a dollop for good measure, Limwen. To boost your weakened humor.” She lapped up the liquid, ruffling her feathers after her final slurp.
Thalion leaned in to inspect the owl and asked, “Is she well enough for the revealing now?” He could not contain his eagerness; nor did he care to.
“Yes, I believe she is.” Saeldur caged his hands around her head, and she shut her eyes. Following this, he closed his own, whispering chants in Old Elvish, then silencing himself. Thalion noticed his eyes rolling beneath his lids and knew the revealing had begun, with the events unfolding before the healer as though he were present at the cliffs, or along Limwen’s flight back home through the forest.
Then an eerie hush infused the chamber. All he heard was a shallow breath escape from Saeldur and the sputter of candles lighting up the encumbered bookshelves. Orin and Oriel sat camouflaged amongst the burning lights. Until that moment, the young elf had forgotten the faeries were there. The Elven Master then released his hold on Limwen and opened his eyes. The candlelight danced in their blue pools as he stood there, stunned. And Thalion’s heart ceased several beats.
“Saeldur, what did you behold?” He walked toward him and tried to break his stare.
“I… I am afraid Medlinya has taken Sparrow.”
His gut ached as though a boulder were hurled into him, the impact stealing the wind from his lungs and a river of blood from his veins. As his knees trembled, his body faltered. But Thalion resolved to stand firm. Nothing would stop him from saving the girl, even if his death were to come of it. Thoughts of his promise to her haunted him. Sparrow, I vowed to keep harm from finding you but failed you. Please forgive me.
His weakness turned to rage. Never was his hatred for the princess so palpable; it crawled up his throat and stung his palate. So bitter, he could taste it.
“I must go and find her.” He charged toward the chamber doorway.
“No!” Saeldur’s crimson cloak billowed behind him when he sprinted to grab Thalion by the arm.
“Are you mad?” He scowled at the Spiritswayer and then at the hand clenching his arm. Without any demands, his friend released his grip. “I could’ve been here and back ten times over had I not listened to you and remained here.”
“My advice was not in vain. Medlinya commands you meet her in Lothuial at the Tree of Gwaewon. And you are to make no attempts to save her or—”