by C A Oliver
Despair was etched on Saeröl’s face.
“In truth, the Gods had other precious gifts for the High Elves. Pride, jealousy, greed, ambition... all bestowed to ensure that Gweïwal Agadeon’s great cathedral of the Underdark would not remain empty. It was a fool’s bargain from the beginning. True immortality belongs to Gods, not to Elves. The glory of immortal life was merely bait, set to trap us into a hopeless destiny. Accepting death is the only solution,” the Night Elf lord concluded.
Saeröl raised his sword Moramsing threateningly. His voice was strained with the madness that seized him.
“In that web of lies the High Elves call history, House Dir Sana’s origins and its secret guild remain veiled in legend, like the Amethyst Magic we wield, the secret rules we obey and the ancient traditions we live by.”
With the sharp tip of his sword, he sketched a complex rune onto the wet soil.
“This marking,” he explained, “is full of ambiguity. It represents the House Dir Sana, of course, but these diacritical marks also indicate the idea of ‘eternity’. While its main scriptural element can be translated as ‘revenge’, the symbol of the dark moon here suggests secrecy and darkness.”
The dark blade of Moramsing drew a regular triangle around the rune.
“Later, when our bloodline was almost spent, and our noble status was denied, we became a secret guild, and completed our mark with these three equal lines, creating a new rune. The triangle evokes the three powers, a concept as old as the world, one that can be found in all Elvin cultures. For members of the guild of Sana, the three lines of the triangle represent the three fundamental values that guarantee unity among our ranks: eternity, secrecy and revenge.”
“Why are you telling me such things?” Aewöl asked, with a deep sense of unease. “I have nothing to do with all this. I am Aewöl of Mentollà, nothing more, nothing less!”
Saeröl smiled, as if out of pity.
“That is not so, and you know it. The Dir Sana have language to hide what we feel and to disguise what we mean. The truth is too precious; it must be protected with a retinue of lies until... revenge can be exacted. This is how we think. This is who we are. We have no freedom to decide our fate. I even believe that, in the depths of our souls, there is a need to have every thought dictated by the law of House Dir Sana.”
Saeröl smiled, but his smile was grim. He continued.
“Today is a new page in the infamous manuscript of Sana. And we are writing it together, for our two fates have become entwined. The manuscript is usually more concerned with sordid considerations about honour and revenge, but its ruthless principles also apply to other fields, including family affairs…”
Feeling threatened again, Aewöl made another attempt to escape his fate.
“I do not want to have anything to do with the Night Elves. Long ago, I renounced my mother’s legacy. I am simply a member of the community of Mentollà.”
After a final gulp, Saeröl sent his crystal glass shattering against the cellar wall. He started to move forward, gently stroking the rune of Amethyst, the jewel hanging from the silver necklace around his wrist.
“Why do you think your forefather, Egalmöl, fled to Essawylor away from his elder brother Elriöl, instead of crossing the Austral Ocean with him?” Saeröl asked. “There is an answer to that riddle: there can be only one master of the guild of Sana.”
With a quick gesture of his hand, Saeröl pressed the Rune of Amethyst onto Aewöl’s shoulder. The effect was immediate: the one-eyed Elf stood frozen and convulsing, paralyzed by a higher power.
“Now hear the Oath of Sana,” Saeröl cried.
“I will not swear. I want nothing to do with your sect!”
“Do you think my father Elriöl left me a choice?” said Saeröl before striking him violently across the right cheek. He began reciting the Oath with his deep voice:
“So O gomy o tortry
So O wenti, O morawenti
E rayu E souy
Narabety Nel Anmöl
O deyroh da Sana”
Saeröl released his grip. Aewöl’s tunic was torn apart below his left shoulder, just above his heart. The mark of the rune of Sana was burning into his flesh. The one-eyed Elf fell to his knees, utterly helpless.
“Remember our words!” Saeröl shouted.
“DOR will not be, DOL will not deign, DIR SANA I am.”
With this, Saeröl slapped Aewöl’s left cheek with considerable force, causing him to fall to the ground. In the darkness of the cellar, the one-eyed Elf just about glimpsed the master of the guild of Sana step back, pick up his sword by the blade, and press its pommel against the wall.
Saeröl leapt forwards. The dark blade pierced his abdomen.
He collapsed onto the ground, dead.
For a moment, Aewöl’s body betrayed him. It was refusing to get up from the ground. He could not work out if what he was seeing was a vision or a hallucination. A shadowy form, the colour of crimson, seemed to be leaving Saeröl’s corpse by his mouth. It rose in the air before disappearing into the pommel incrusted with amethysts of his bastard sword. Terrified by what he had seen, Aewöl rushed out of the cellar.
EPILOGUE
2713, Season of Eïwele Llyi, 1rst day, Nyn Llyvary, Llafal
Marwen, one the young priestesses of Eïwal Lon’s cult, opened the temple doors. Overwhelmed by emotion, her sapphire eyes blazing, the maiden, her hair in long, dark curls, could not hide her excitement. It was she who had been chosen for this symbolic mission. When Marwen was done with her task, Camatael and Loriele exited the nave of Llafal’s White Temple and appeared before a vast crowd under the sunlit sky. Light shone about them as they walked hand in hand. The couple stood high upon the steps of Eïwele Llyi’s shrine, overlooking Temples Square and the Halwyfal below. They could see many of their followers parading among the dense crowd gathered before them on the esplanade.
A guard of honour was part of the cortege. Camatael took Loriele’s hand and kissed it before the eyes of the many. Though it had not been planned and went against protocol, the young Marwen could not resist shouting out to the crowd that had gathered on Temples Square.
“Here stand Lord Camatael Dol Lewin and his bride, Lady Loriele Dol Etrond! And they exchanged their silver rings before the altar of Eïwele Llyi!”
There was on the esplanade in front of them a great concourse of Elves, thousands in number. Rumour had spread across the forest that the Blue Mage, Curubor, was preparing the greatest feast ever seen in Llafal, to celebrate his grand-niece’s betrothal. From all parts of Llymar, from Tios Halabron to Penlla and the far coast of the bay, all Elves who could make the journey to Llafal had come. The city was filled with the joy of the revellers. The colours of their festive garments comingled with the decoration of the houses, laden with flowers.
Descending the temple steps, Loriele came forward to the crowd. Her smile was dazzling, as bright as the light of day. Her noble and seductive face expressed amusement. When the Elves of Llafal saw her coming to meet them, they cried out in amazement and began congregating around her, full of admiration. With her noble gait and her long, almost iridescent hair flying in the wind, she seemed to float above the ground. The elegance of her tight-waisted azure dress was enhanced by a fine golden girdle. She wore a few jewels without ostentation: a bracelet on each of her wrists and a necklace of marine pearls, a gift from Fendrya dyn Feli.
Music started. Harpists had come all the way from Tios Lluin for the occasion. They were soon joined by flautists and horn-players from the clan Ernaly, fabled for their skills. The clear-voiced singers of Llafal answered them, singing the couple’s praises. A group of dancers from Mentollà pushed its way through the crowd, getting the audience to sing along with their exotic chants. The Blue Elves wore wigs of green and blue feathers, which they had attached to their hair with gum. They had stuck large wild goose feathers to their foreheads. On their arms, they wore nacre bracelets decorated with marine pearls of various colours.
Benefiting from the confusion, the young Mayile, another maiden from Llafal, came to the steps of Eïwele Llya’s temple. As she ran, her blonde hair, tumbling wildly about her head, marked each of her movements with a natural beauty. Amid joyful singing and music of the harps and flutes, Mayile passed to the other side of the esplanade. She had finished her duties at the white temple, where the couple had performed the rituals of betrothal. Mayile was eager to admire the city in all its flower-laden glory from its very best viewpoint. Llafal was filled with many trees and luxurious plants. The numerous fountains and statues were wrought of marble. Its streets were filled with the laughter of Elves. The sun-tanned Blue Elves, the blond Green Elves and the tall High Elves of Llymar forest celebrated together this new age they were building together. Overwhelmed by excitement, Mayile called to witness an elegant lady beside her, who was dressed in light blue robes.
“Today is a good day for all the Seeds of Llyoriane. The communities of Llymar, each in their own way, are joining together to celebrate the love of these two Elves. That is the very pinnacle of the Islands Deities’ teachings. Tolerance of all and harm to none. This day is full of promise.”
Her long dark hair flowing in the wind, the elegant lady could not resist smiling before such candid enthusiasm. Her name was Arwela. She was the elder sister of Feïwal dyn Filweni, the warlord of Mentollà, and considered by many to be the wisest of her community.
“What is your name?” Arwela asked. Her voice was melodious and gentle.
“My name is Mayile; I am an apprentice at the temple of Eïwele Llyi. I answer to Matriarch Nyriele,” responded the maiden with pride.
“Listen, Mayile, only time will tell if what you hope will prove true. If this crowd were condemning the betrothed, we would want to understand why. If, as it seems, the crowd is applauding them, we must seek their reasons for doing so too.”
JOIN
The Songs of the Lost Islands
COMMUNITY
AND SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS
Thank you for reading The Lonely Seeker. If you enjoyed this book, you might want to post a review on Amazon or Goodreads. Your feedback is very valuable as the Songs of the Lost Islands series continues developing.
Amazon
Goodreads
LINKS TO THE SERIES EXISTING PUBLICATIONS
The Lonely Seeker (Songs of the Lost Islands #2)
The Valley of Nargrond (Songs of the Lost Islands #3)
Songs of the Lost Islands website
To enhance your reading experience, visit the ‘Legends and Lore’ section of the website.
www.songsofthelostislands.com/
ANNEXES
The Hawenti
The High Elves are called ‘Hawenti’ in the language of the Llewenti, as opposed to the ‘Wenti’ who identify as ‘free’ Elves. The Hawenti accepted the gift of immortality offered by the Gods. They are immortal in the sense that they are not vulnerable to disease or the effects of old age although they can be killed in battle. They are divided into two main nations: the Gold Elves (the most prominent) and the Silver Elves. The Hawenti have a greater depth of knowledge than other Elvin nations, due to their natural inclination for learning as well as their extreme age.Their power and wisdom know no comparison and within their eyes the fire of eternity can be seen. This kindred of the Elves were ever distinguished both by their knowledge of things and by their desire to know more.
The Morawenti
The Night Elves are called ‘Morawenti’ in the language of the Llewenti. The Morawenti are a subdivision of the Silver Elves, the second of the Hawenti nations. They are therefore counted among the High Elves as they accepted the gift of immortality offered by the Gods. Morawenti are immortal in the sense that they are not vulnerable to disease or the effects of old age although they too can be killed in battle. Morawenti tend to be thinner and taller in size than other Elves. Their very pale skin, almost livid, characterises them while their gaze is deep and mysterious. They all have dark hair while their eye colour varies between grey and black. They favour wearing dark coloured tunics with grey or green shades and robes of fine linens, cotton or silk.
The Llewenti
One of the seven nations of ‘free’ Elves, they are called ‘Llewenti’ in their language, ‘Llew’ meaning ‘Green’ and ‘Wenti’ meaning ‘Elves’. They were so named, because their first Patriarch’s attire was green. They are counted among the nations of Elves who refused the gift of immortality offered by the Gods. Llewenti enjoy much longer life than Men, living for five to six centuries depending on their bloodline. Their race is similar in appearance to humans, but they are fairer and wiser, with greater spiritual powers, keener senses, and a deeper empathy with nature. They are for the most part a simple, peaceful, and reclusive people, famous for their singing skills. With sharper senses, they are highly skilled at crafts especially when using natural resources. The Green Elves are wise in the ways of the forest and the natural world.
The Irawenti
One of the seven nations of the ‘free’ Elves, they are called ‘Irawenti’ in the language of the Llewenti, ‘Ira’ meaning ‘Blue’ and ‘Wenti’ meaning ‘Elves’. They were so named, because their first Guide’s eyes had the colour of the tropical seas and azure reflections emanated from his black hair. They are counted among the nations of Elves who refused the gift of immortality offered by the Gods. Irawenti enjoy much longer life than Men, living for four to five centuries depending on their bloodline. Their race is similar in appearance to the Green Elves but darker and wilder, with greater physical powers and a closer empathy with water. They are for the most part a free, joyful and adventurous people, famous for their navigation skills.
Having sharper connection with rivers and oceans, they are at their strongest and most knowledgeable when aboard their ships. The Blue Elves are wise in the ways of the sea.
MAIN ELF FACTIONS AND CHARACTERS
KINGDOM OF GWARYSTAN
Royal House Dor Ilorm
The Hawenti ruling house of the principal realm in the Lost Islands
~ Norelin Dor Ilorm: King of Gwarystan, Sovereign of the Hawenti, Protector of the Llewenti, and Overlord of the Islands
~ Eno Mowengot: Commander of the Golden Hand
The guild of Sana
Secret guild in the Lost Islands
~ Saeröl Dir Sana: Master of the guild of Sana
~ Drismile: Courtesan
~ Nuriol: Servant of the guild of Sana, spy in Tios Lleny
FOREST OF LLYMAR
The clan Llyvary
Clan of Green Elves, principal and historical members of the council of Llymar Forest
~ Lyrine dyl Llyvary: Elder Matriarch of the clan Llyvary
~ Nyriele dyl Llyvary: Matriarch, High Priestess of Eïwele Llyi
~ Myryae dyl Llyvary: Matriarch
~ Tyar dyl Llyvary, ‘the Old Bird’: Warlord of Llafal
~ Leyen dyl Llyvary: Warlord of Penlla and Commander of Llymar fleet
~ Nerin dyl Llyvary: Captain of Llafal
The clan Ernaly
Clan of Green Elves originating from Nyn Ernaly, members of the council of Llymar Forest
~ Mynar dyl Ernaly, ‘the Fair’: Warlord of Tios Halabron
~ Voryn dyl Ernaly, ‘the Ugly’: Captain of Tios Halabron
~ Yere dyl Ernaly: Matriarch in Tios Halabron
~ Lore, ‘the Daughter of the Islands’: Envoy of Eïwele Llya
~ Dyoren, ‘the Lonely Seeker’: Knight of the Secret Vale, wielder of Rymsing
The clan Avrony
Clan of Green Elves originating from Nyn Avrony, members of the council of Llymar forest
House Dol Etrond
High Elves originating from Ystanetrond, members of the council of Llymar forest
~ Curubor Dol Etrond, ‘the Blue Mage’: Guardian of Tios Lluin
~ Almit Dol Etrond: Lord of House Dol Etrond
~ Loriele Dol Etrond: Lady at the court in Gwarystan
~ Duluin: Commander of the Golden Arch knights
House Dol Lewin
Rebel Hawenti house originating from Mentolewin
~ Camatael Dol Lewin: Lord of House Dol Lewin, High Priest of Eïwal Lon in Tios Lluin
Community of Mentollà
Group of Irawenti and Hawenti refugees originating from Essawylor across the Austral Ocean, members of the Council of Llymar forest