Evenstars of Aeweniel

by Willow Sova

  “Make no attempts? And why should I listen to her?” He balled his fists at the thought of the princess toying with Sparrow like a feline playfully pouncing its prey before the kill.

  “To disobey her will only prolong her suffering.” When his face gloomed, Thalion surmised he regretted the frankness of his words.

  “Her suffering? What has she done to Sparrow?” The elf inched closer to him. As painful as the truth might be, he wanted the Elven Master to speak it.

  “Anger will come of it if I tell you,” he replied, the blues in his eyes greying over. This was more telling for Thalion than anything the healer could have said.

  He felt like a caged animal as his mind raced to be free from Medlinya’s torment. Through clenched teeth, he warned Saeldur, “It’s already raging, my friend. You must tell me.”

  “You know what she’s capable of.”

  Yes, I do. All too well.

  Could he do so, he would sacrifice his life to reverse what was done. He would search the forest of Aeweniel until he safely brought Sparrow home. Wishing to leave, the elf stared through the great hall and into the alcove at the entrance of the cavern. Trickery befell his sight, and the door blurred before him, tunneling away in the distance, taunting him. I’m a pawn in Medlinya’s twisted game.

  The princess was far more powerful than him. That he knew. Yet his love for Sparrow was powerful too. It was steadfast. Unconditional. Undying. Such qualities should win over the evil that is Medlinya. If not, his faith in his world was dead; he wished to be no part of it. This game I must win.

  “Take comfort she still lives. The dark princess has no intentions of killing Sparrow without you being an unwilling spectator.” Saeldur rested his hand on his shoulder as though speaking father to son.

  His words woke Thalion from his trance. He saw the worry in his friend and realized he meant well. But complete solace would only be had if he rid himself of Medlinya—that he also knew. So long as she’s alive, Sparrow will never be safe.

  “What do you suggest I do?”

  “Orin! Oriel!” Two orbs of green light jumped within the shelves. Startled by the Spiritswayer’s booming voice, the faeries came to attention, flying in swift circles to meet him. “Go fetch Aranhil. Tell him Thalion and Sparrow need his help. More likely than not, he will be with his arboreal lady friend.” He heard the disappointment in Saeldur’s tone and shared the same sentiment. Aranhil seemed doomed to Lady Maple’s wiles. Since rendezvousing with her, his brother grew more consumed with her. Each visit only intensified his obsession.

  Early on, he had justified how Aranhil’s visits to the arboreal lady helped to abate his grief over losing Evelyn. But seeing his brother this evening, refusing all reason, looking frail and depleted, Thalion was more convinced Lady Maple’s company served something more sinister than good.

  Peridot trails blurred behind Orin and Oriel when they flew off.

  “Once Aranhil returns, then what? What are you proposing we do?”

  The healer strode toward the bookcase and pulled out a globed bottle of obsidian sap wherein a violet flame flickered. “I recommend you exercise caution.” The liquid, as thick as molasses, he poured over the blade of a dagger. The sap smoked purple as it bled along its length, and the vapors billowed about the blade until it dried. After sheathing it, he handed it to Thalion. “Medlinya demands you meet her in Forest Lothuial for a reason. The place is treacherous with its great host of thorny ghostwoods seeping Lothuial’s poison at every turn. Yet with that weapon, laced with the very same, you will not be totally disadvantaged.”

  Thalion remembered the story of the haunted forest from his elflinghood. The trees that live in Forest Lothuial, or the Twilight Forest, or Ghostwood, as it was also known, were once valiant warriors from Thorondil, a realm west of Aeweniel.

  Over eight thousand years ago, they were the only elves to come to Aeweniel’s aid to fight against the evil King Bregolien when he began to abuse his power, seeking dominion over all the surrounding Elven Realms. The king had cursed the Thorondil army, turning them into trees, but doing so in slow measure to make them suffer. As they had marched closer toward Aeweniel, their feet had become planted in the earth where they stood while their skin turned to bark, coarse and scaly, until it proved too rigid for them to breathe, and every last breath was stolen from them.

  Ever since then, the swath of Forest Aeweniel from where Lothuial was born had grown into a woodland of perpetual twilight, one many believed was haunted by the spirits of the Thorondil warriors. Neither were the elves living—at least, not the life they once knew—nor were they dead, as they lived on as trees in a state of limbo, left to remember what would no longer be.

  A dreary place. His own spirits became more restless with the thought of Sparrow being in Lothuial. “How are you so sure I can outwit Medlinya? Since delving into the dark arts, she’s more powerful than any of us combined.” Thalion glanced over the indigo metal scabbard, chased with silver moons and stars, and attached it to his belt.

  “I dread to say it, but I am not so sure. Perchance with this, however, the gods will favor you and Sparrow far more.” Saeldur lifted a luminous blue vessel from a silver box. He siphoned the liquid from the small bottle and transferred it into a petite vial using a glass quill, capped it, and gave it to Thalion. “This is the antidote for Lothuial’s bane should things turn dire. Five drops under the tongue should cleanse the body of any venom if given within a quarter hour of poisoning. I pray to the gods it does not come to that.”

  Thalion grasped the glowing vial. The feel of it was like ice in his palm. The lucent hue brought to mind his memory of their first night together at Dragonfire, how Sparrow looked even more angelic as he made love to her under the firelights. Yes, for my Lady Sparrow’s sake, I pray you’re right, he thought, watching the vial illume blue in his hand. “Let’s hope the gods are listening.”

  CHAPTER 19

  FOREST LOTHUIAL

  All were cloaked under a blanket of night sky as the dragons rode the fog-laden winds and soared over miles of lush green forest and silver ribbons of River Emlineth. When the two elves spotted Forest Lothuial, a pale island alight in purples and blues surrounded by a sea of indigo, they swooped down into the shadows of Aeweniel, landing atop a mound of boulders jutting from the earth half a league from that twilit wood. Thereafter, Thalion and Aranhil shifted into their elven forms and started their hike to the Twilight Forest. Even with nightfall, the wildwood was thriving with life: the sleepy lullabies of distant birds drifting through the trees, mice and moles scurrying through carpets of foliage, foxes foraging for food, and a herd of deer drinking from a nearby creek.

  “You’d deny me the chance to avenge Evelyn’s death?” Thalion knew better than to think his brother would let go of the matter at Saeldur’s cavern. Their discord began before they took flight for Lothuial. He had hoped it would have ended there as well.

  “Were things different and Sparrow far from harm, I’d gladly give you Medlinya. But I can’t risk it. You must remain in shadow, out of her sight.” He surveyed the twisting path ahead.

  “Then what purpose do I serve?” Aranhil asked, winded, straining to catch up and keep pace with him.

  “Precautionary, should things go awry.” Thalion stopped in his tracks and turned to face his brother. “I’ll play her cruel games, so long as it wins Sparrow back to me. And for that, you can’t be present. Otherwise—”

  “—she’ll know you play her falsely. Clever.” A malevolent smile curled his lips. It shone peridot under the faerie glow as Orin and Oriel hovered close to Aranhil. “Then what will you have me do if I shan’t skewer an arrow into that bitch’s heart myself?”

  “Lie in wait, high in the trees. And, by all means, strike Medlinya should peril come to Sparrow.” Thalion noticed his eyes enlivening at the chance of avenging Evelyn’s death, their irises shifting from lichen green to viridian. “Though you should only take action if I’m unable to act myself. Or unless I give
you a signal to do so.”

  “Very well,” Aranhil replied, his demeanor turning glum.

  He surmised his brother was not thrilled with his more passive part in the scheme, but he needed to secure the girl’s safety above all else. Even at the expense of Aranhil’s taste for revenge. To do that, I must convince Medlinya she was right when she mocked how I’d never find my ladylove. And I must grovel back to her, just as she had warned me I would.

  They continued hiking through the forest as moonbeams showered through the canopy of dark foliage and lit their path ahead. As the two elves drew nearer to the Twilight Forest, they spotted a doe and her fawn near the marge of the woodland with their hooves still grounded on Aeweniel’s soil. But before venturing any closer, the deer charged away from the shadowy wood. There’s truth to the myth: This place repels life. No wonder some call it the “Lonely Forest”.

  Once they walked over the threshold and into Lothuial, the warmth of that spring evening plunged to that of a frigid fall. Hoary wisps escaped their lips as they breathed. The plethora of trilling birds and rustling creatures faded, and the only sign of life was the swaying of ghostwoods as soft winds grazed their limbs. Mosaics of blue, purple, and orange sky flamed between their ghostly white trunks and branches, their pale bark mottled with obsidian thorns oozing sap, and boughs dressed in silver filigree leaves shaped like stars that gleamed shades of the surrounding twilight as they rode the light breeze.

  A labyrinth of treacherous roots strewn the forest floor like a vast pit of black snakes, connecting one ghostwood to the next. The elves minded their footing, one careful step at a time. Barring the trees, the forest was barren of foliage, of life of any kind. Not even the lights of Aeweniel’s faeries flickered there.

  “Wait. Did you hear that?” he whispered. Thalion thought he had heard the whicker of a horse. In the distance, the Tree of Gwaewon loomed high like a watchtower above all the ghostwoods of Forest Lothuial. Like the mightiest warrior of Thorondil himself. The elf had seen the imposing tree many times before, yet he was still dumbfounded by its formidable stature.

  As he trod atop the slabs of rock that paved a path to Gwaewon, he caught sight of Medlinya in the misty twilight atop her blue roan, Mystic. Torchlights burned around her as she circled the mammoth tree, wielding a rapier. The sword blazed under the moonlight with every slash, and her laughter echoed off the ghostwoods as the princess taunted the girl mercilessly.

  Enraged and muscles tensed, he moved closer and found Sparrow caged in a web of vines wrapped around the tree, her bare skin only inches from its lethal thorns. Swift though silent, he turned to Aranhil and motioned him to fall back and hide in the deep shadows. He could not chance Medlinya finding out he was not alone. Without a word, his brother retreated, and the faeries followed his lead. Thalion continued on, creeping over the blackened roots flooding the earth underfoot until he reached the copse of trees dwarfed by Gwaewon itself.

  “Our guest of honor has finally arrived!” she shouted, pointing her sword in his direction. Every fiber in him vibrated with fury. Fearing his sharp wit could cost his lady dearly, he said nothing. “What’s wrong, Thalion? At a loss for words?” The rapier glittered with torchlight, moon, and sky as she lowered it.

  “I’m here as you requested. So, please, let Sparrow go.”

  “Not so fast,” she scoffed, riding toward him. Medlinya leered down from her towering blue roan courser and scraped Thalion’s groin with the edge of her sword. “I have yet to have my fun.”

  “What is it you want?” The elf pushed the blade aside.

  “I think you know the answer to that,” she replied with one hand raised. Before he could seize it, the scabbard jerked loose from his belt and swooshed in the air and into her hand like flying metal to a magnet. “But you won’t be needing this.” With a devilish grin, she tossed the sheathed dagger out of his reach. “Or this.” Another gesture of her hand and she loosed the vial of antidote from his pocket, flung it through the air, and smashed it into a ghostwood. The potion oozed down the pale-skinned tree like blue lava, and the shards of glass winked under the moon and torchlights.

  Distraught over the loss of his laced weapon and the antidote, he still refused to let his feelings show. “What is it you want, Medlinya?” he asked again. “To mate with my dragon?”

  “You know me too well, my dear Thalion. And while I’ve had a little nibble of dragon of late, it was always yours I wished to sink my teeth into.”

  “Let Sparrow go, and I’ll grant you your wish.”

  “You seem to forget your place. I command, and you obey. Need I remind you your little songbird is caged and nearer to death.” A mere glance from the princess and the vines closed in around the girl. Sparrow screamed and clung closer to them to avoid being thrust back into the poisonous thorns of Gwaewon.

  “Don’t hurt her! Your grievance is with me, not her!”

  “That’s not quite true, now is it? Seeing how you’ve traded a pure-blood princess for a mongrel, I’d say both of you are to blame for my disgrace in Aeweniel.”

  “But—”

  “Another word from you, and I’ll kill her as you speak.” She jerked her stallion’s reins and urged him nearer to Thalion. “Don’t think me totally heartless. Even though both of you share guilt for my dishonor, I’ll only let one of you die while the other lives.”

  “Then I shall be the one who dies.” He spoke without hesitation.

  “No, Thalion, don’t! I couldn’t bear it! Please, don’t!” Her voice was feeble, and the elf despaired, wanting nothing less than to run to her. To comfort her. To save her. But he knew such actions could cost Sparrow her life.

  “How sweet and bloody predictable.” The princess cringed as though she were nauseated. “You seem to forget: I command, and you obey. And I decree tit-for-tat. She dies, not you,” she replied with a sneer. “But not until she tastes your betrayal as she watches you make love to me.”

  “I’ll gladly trade my life for hers. Do with me as you please, but don’t—” Mystic snorted, frosting the air with his breath, his forefeet rearing, then clopping onto earth, stone, and roots as his black tail swished in anger. While the princess tried to steady her mount, Thalion peered over at the girl, her tears glistening in the moonlight. Like an acolyte in prayer, her eyes were closed as her lips moved, forming soundless words. Sparrow’s bewitching her horse, he realized. Mystic bucked and writhed, kicking up his forelegs, then his hind legs, before rearing up again and throwing Medlinya onto the hard ground with a thunk. The rapier clanked when steel hit stone.

  With no time to spare as she lay dazed from the fall, Thalion surveyed the forest canopy above and saw Oriel and Orin’s two orbs of yellow-green fire providing a glimpse of Aranhil, who was ready with arrow drawn. The elf gave a swift nod, and his brother loosed the arrow. It whizzed through the air and spiraled toward Medlinya’s chest where it stopped with a thud.

  She’s finally dead!

  Or so he thought.

  The dark princess cackled like a raucous crow and righted herself. She stood up and clenched the arrow whose point was only a hair from her heart. “My power is no match for either of you. Now your brother dies with your little songbird. But I’ll leave him for Helegil.” The ring of blood from her punctured flesh disappeared the instant she pulled out the arrow. She tossed it to the ground and shouted so Aranhil could hear, “Shoot one more arrow from that bow and Thalion’s little sparrow dies sooner than not. Just like your sweet Evelyn.”

  To pacify her, the elf moved in and rested a hand on her arm, though he surmised the gesture was hopeless. “Medlinya, please. He only did what I asked of him. If either of us should die, then I should.” Her silver chainmail cloak was far softer than the look she gave Thalion in reply.

  “And where would the fun in that be?” She leaned in to whisper in his ear, “With them gone, I’ll have you all to myself.” When the princess withdrew, she shot him a wicked smile. His stomach roiled with anger. Sorrow. And regret. �
��Never forget: I’m the champion of this game. And now I want my prize.” She retrieved her rapier from the ground. A flicking motion of her hand sent it flying within her grip. With another flick of a hand, her long tunic of sable, cloak, and knee-high boots disappeared, and a stone chaise covered with moss rose behind her naked body. She sat down and unfurled her thighs. “First, you must make love to me in your elven form for your little songbird to see—it’s I who owns you, not she.”

  When a brisk breeze passed, Thalion realized his clothes had vanished against his will. He hesitated to move, with hands over his crotch, and looked over at Sparrow. Save for the Isilmë pendant, the girl was naked and shivering, her cries misting the air with frosty clouds. His spirits sank to see her that way. Just then he glimpsed his dagger moving toward him from a few meters away as green lights gleamed on the blade. Oriel and Orin were dragging it with something else he could not decipher.

  Cool steel shocked his cheek when the princess whacked him with the flat of her sword. A tinny whistling rang in his ears before he heard her say, “Don’t look at her, you look at me!” With the tip of the rapier, she turned his face and locked him into a cold stare. And while the sight of her made him wild with fury, Thalion tamed his tongue and said nothing. She then lay on the mossy lounge and demanded, “Now pleasure me.” The elf began to rub her leg, revolted by the feel of her skin. With reluctance, he made his way up her thigh. “Bring me to ecstasy with your mouth and cock, or I will send your songbird to her grave,” she spat, leering down at him. She raised his chin with the sword again, this time nicking him with the edge of it. Blood dribbled down his neck, and he could taste the venom in her words.

  While the very feel of her sent worms burrowing beneath his flesh, Thalion resolved to make his amorous displays more convincing. Every kiss, every caress, he thought of Sparrow. He remembered the scent of lavender roses when he inhaled her skin during their lovemaking, and the heat surging to his sex whenever she cried out his name.