“Um. Tellie,” she said, heart calming a little.
“Why do you say it is your necklace?”
“I—I guess it’s not, but it belonged to some men staying at the inn I work at, and they will be angry if I don’t return it to them.”
The elf called Leoren stepped forward, his hand unconsciously dropping to the hilt of a sword that hung at his side. “What did these men look like?”
Tellie saw the movement and stepped back. “I don’t know, just strangers!” Suddenly, the necklace seemed unimportant and her life worth keeping. What would they do if she made a run for it? “Look, I’m sorry I interrupted. I won’t say a thing about you if you don’t want me to. I didn’t mean to pry, I was just trying to—”
“Leoren,” Casara said, casting him a reproving look. “You frightened her.” She turned back to Tellie and held up a hand. “We aren’t angry at you, Tellie. Forgive us if we seem tense, but that necklace is very special to us and we have not seen it in a very long time.”
“So it belongs to you?” Her eyes widened as she struggled to collect her scattered thoughts. It made sense. After all, she had never really believed that the necklace belonged to the men, and she recalled that they had intended to use it in their plot to…to…
She lifted her chin, trying to contain her anxiety behind her tangled fingers. “Excuse me if this seems bold, but I think your king might be in danger.”
The breaths around her drew in sharply, and all the tension in the air returned.
Leoren stared at her for a long moment. “Explain,” he said at last.
So she haltingly accounted how the strangers had come in the middle of the night and what she had overheard. “It all seemed so strange,” she finished. “But they were planning to use this necklace as bait, I think.”
“Thank you, Tellie,” Casara said softly. “This information is invaluable.”
She shifted from one foot to another. “Excuse me again if this is too bold…but…” Her eyes flickered to the sword stuck in the ground and the finery upon it. “Does this…does this have anything to do with the dead prince?”
It was immensely uncomfortable how everything she said affected the elves in such a strong manner. She could feel every breath inhaled, could see every jaw clench.
“What do you know of him?” Leoren said, tight-toned.
“I’m sorry.” She’d definitely said the wrong thing. But the legend could not be ignored. “Everybody at Denji knows the story. The attack was quite…the traumatic event for the town.” And she couldn’t say what that night had changed for her personally, not here, not to them.
“I suppose it was.” Leoren gave a regretful sigh. “The effect of such evil always spreads wide. I can say only that there is a connection, but it is better if you do not kn—”
“I can explain.” The voice was quiet and low, rich and burnished as fine silver.
The elves looked behind them, and she followed their gaze. The shrouded guards drifted apart, and she saw again the white-haired man with the magpie upon his shoulder.
He was indeed a very old elf, perhaps as old as the world. While not wrinkled, his face was etched with hundreds of years filled with many trials and many tears. Yet his eyes, an astonishing silver ringed in black, held a light that revealed triumph over all his troubles. He held a tall white staff in his hand, but he no longer leaned on it for support.
And he smiled at her. It was subtle, almost imperceptible. But there was warmth and kindness there that filled her heart with wonder and…and there was familiarity. A patient smile that suggested he’d been waiting to see her again for a long time.
What a ridiculous idea, Tellie thought, startled. He’d never seen her before, and she’d certainly never seen him. But nonetheless, he looked as if he knew her.
“The necklace is the heirloom of my people, Tellie,” he said. “It belonged to our prince.”
It was the necklace she kept seeing in her dreams of the event. She didn’t know why she hadn’t made the connection before, except that she swore the moon had been a crescent.
He stepped away from the guards, the moon medallion resting in his hand. Leaning his staff against his arm, he reached up and undid a locket brooch at his collar.
Shyly, she took the brooch when it was offered and opened it. Inside was a painting of a handsome young man. Though small, the painting was so detailed and exquisite, Tellie could see it as clearly as if it stood life-size in front of her. The young man, no more than twenty, held a sword against his chest and looked straight at the viewer. His dark brown hair swept back behind his shoulders, and his brilliant eyes could not decide if they were green or blue. At first he seemed serious, but then she saw a slight tilt to his lips and a sparkle in his eyes like he was trying hard not to smile. She very nearly smiled back at him. Around his neck hung the moon medallion.
It was him. The prince in her dream.
3
oOo
“Iam sorry for your loss,” she murmured, closing the brooch and handing it back. Nervous prickles ran across her arms as she wondered how her imagination had captured the likeness of the real prince so exactly. She was sure there hadn’t been a painting of him anywhere in Dormandy. After all, no one had really seen him before his untimely end. Shoving her unease down, she glanced beyond the elves to the sword and the circlet. “You’ve come to honor him then? I didn’t mean to be such an interruption.”
“On the contrary, you have done us a great service by bringing this treasure back.”
“I think your bird did that.”
The magpie croaked, and the silver-haired elf’s lips lifted in a faint smile as he reached up to tickle its feathered breast. “True, but you were the one to recover it from our enemies in the first place. They have had it for far too long.”
“They said they were going to use it to try and trick your king. Who are they and why are they doing this?” It occurred to her they might not think she deserved such an explanation, but no legend or dream had ever explained why the prince was attacked. In the dream it was the monstrous shards come down from the North, but now it was men. Something bigger was behind all this, and she wanted to know why. Besides political grumbles, she hadn’t heard of any real ill will towards the elves.
But the silver haired man did not seem bothered by the forward question. He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment and then smiled. “It is a long story. But I believe we have time for it.”
“My liege?” Leoren said anxiously. “If these men wish to threaten you, should we not go and defeat them at once?”
“After a storm last night, I’m sure they had plenty of ale,” the elf said smoothly. “They do not think we know, so they will not act in haste.”
He was right about the ale for both the strangers and her masters, and she was certainly in no hurry to go back, but still—
Wait. Threaten him? Liege? Her jaw went slack and she stumbled backwards.
“Oh no…oh no! Don’t tell me you’re the king!” But of course, she should have seen all the signs! Had she been rude to him? Thistles, she was being rude to him even at this moment! She dipped into a deep curtsy. “Your Majesty! I am so sorry!”
A trace of amusement, faded by the ever-present sorrow, flickered across the king’s features. “You need not worry, Tellie. If I had been offended, would I not have let you known by now? Yes, I am King Rendar of Aselvia. And you are Tellie Carlson of Denji. Now, please sit and I will answer the questions you had. It is important you know the story.”
Sitting in the presence of a king certainly did not seem proper, but denying him was out of the question. Light-headed, she sank to the ground. He’d said her full name, how could he have known…
With a grave face, the king sat in the grass across from her, laying his staff across his knees.
“You know the tale of creation?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said. Anybody knew that. Even poor orphan children were expected to have a basic understanding of Ayeshune and the world’
s beginning lest they be considered absolute heathens.
He raised his hand and the edges of his skin began to glow. Her eyes widened as the light drifted from his fingers and gathered in a shining sphere before him. Magic? But of course—he was not an earth elf, but a celestial, or so the legends said.
The light separated into several shapes that refined in detail as he spoke, delicate figures moving inside a garden of splendor.
“Once in the beginning of time, the world was without flaw—no fear, no pain, no wrong. Elves, men, and all other races lived in harmony with the Creator, Ayeshune. Each flourished in their way, the lands springing up in beauty under the touch of the earth elves, the humans building up cities and crafts, the chemas carving the stone into beauty, the aliths bending the wind to their will, the daishas claiming the sky as their own. As for the celestial elves, they studied the stars and the heavens, and they became renowned for beautiful artifacts crafted from the light surrounding and inside them.
“But long ago before this creation there were spirits who had been formed to serve the One and yet they rejected their Creator. The greatest among them sought anything other than his Lord and there he found only empty Darkness. This Darkness he wore as a mantle, and the more he saw of Ayeshune’s great love and the contentment of His people, the greater his hate grew. At last he crept forth from his exile and walked amongst the people, disguised in a fair form. He planted seeds of discontent in their hearts and whispered to them of greater power. Yes, he even told them that if they followed him they would become gods.”
The beautiful figures of light began to shred and writhe, curling into twisted shapes.
“So great was his influence and so cunning his lies, that when he rose up and bade them come to receive his power, all did, forsaking their God. All…but the celestial elves. For in their work they looked to the light, and when faced with Darkness, they sought the stars. They alone refused to listen to the Darkness’s honeyed words, and they stood firm when all else fell.
“Those who fell for the trick found only horror and agony and hate. It consumed every one of them, spreading war, slavery, and blood. Yet Ayeshune loved those who had betrayed Him, and He redeemed those who sought Him to rise up and halt the Darkness’s ever spreading evil.
“But the damage was done, and the Darkness would never leave the land again until he would be defeated at the end of time. The people who had followed him were soiled, and the world would never be able to commune with their God as they once had. Not unless the Creator Himself stepped down to restore them.
“Only the celestial elves remained pure and holy, and as reward for their faithfulness, they were separated from the sullied world that otherwise would have harmed them. The land upon which they lived was lifted high above all else and was covered with protection so that no evil would penetrate it. And so the worlds were two, one Higher, one Lower. And so should it remain as long as the celestial elves never strayed to Darkness themselves.”
Tellie bent to look at the light which had soared upwards to drift like stars above them. He’d gone and told her the creation story again anyway, but it was true she hadn’t heard it this way before. Humans only seemed to bear slight knowledge of the celestial elves, mainly remembered for the unsurmountable cliffs that bordered the far northwest of Orim. But…
“I know most of this,” she said hesitantly. “What does it have to do with the prince?”
He only smiled at her and continued. “When I said the celestial elves did not fall, I meant all but one. One saw the Darkness and lost sight of the stars. He doubted his Lord’s power and turned to his own strength, and by that strength he fell and was taken by enemies.
“In the end, after many struggles, the elf bore witness to the great sacrifice of his Creator—the act in which the people’s sin was paid for and their souls were given the chance to be one with their God again. The elf’s soul was saved for a new eternity, but his body and mind were still stained by the darkness of the world and he knew he could not return to the land of his people. But two gifts from his people were granted him; first, this necklace, the moon medallion, to remind him of the light.”
He paused and a shadow swept across his face, the sorrow intensifying his silver eyes. “Second was a great book called the Moonscript. In it were written letters of counsel and stories of encouragement from the very pens of the celestial elves themselves, dwelling in the Higher World. Only those with celestial light could read its writing and write in return. Precious indeed were these gifts to this elf. ”
With a slight shake of his head, the shadow passed and he continued. “He took part in freeing the earth elves from slavery, and when he wedded their princess, he was made king of the elves of that realm, Aselvia. For many years, they lived in joy, but children were not given to them. Decades, they prayed for one, and at last their prayer was answered. But the child was born in his absence, and the birth proved too difficult for both, so the mother gave her life for her child. The king named him Errance and poured all love and care into him. To him, he gave the moon medallion, but not the Moonscript, for that would be saved till he was older.”
The ancient elf paused, and his voice suddenly lost the cadence of a storyteller and instead bore the weight of one who had seen the story with his very own eyes.
“Like most young men, Errance became restless as he grew and he wished to wander the outside world. But his father was concerned for him, knowing the awaiting danger. But at last he had to let his son go, as all fathers must.” He looked down, his fingers restlessly intertwining. “He was of twenty years when he began his first journey. As you know, their party was attacked here. The king had stayed back at Aselvia and the elves did not know anything had gone amiss until the prince’s horse returned alone. A company was sent out to search for them and they found the prince’s retinue slain in this forest. The decimation of the scene was the work of shards. The shards are not known for intelligence, driven instead by greater forces. There is little doubt that the attack came at behest of the Darkness—he and the king were old enemies, after all. It was a form of revenge. For nothing could be found of the prince. I shall spare you the description of the gruesome scene, but all that was discernible were his clothes and circlet. As for the moon medallion, which he always wore…it was never found until this day.”
“So it really does go back to the beginning,” Tellie whispered. “The Darkness so hated the Celestial king….you….that he killed the prince.”
An expression she did not understand briefly flashed across the elf’s face. “That is what the people of Aselvia believe, yes.”
“I’m glad you have the medallion back,” she said. “Again, I’m so sorry.” More than ever. He had lost so much already and then his precious son. It wasn’t fair.
He bent his head in acceptance of her sympathies, and when he looked up again, a new sharpness lit his silver eyes. “Now then…Lord Leoren. Take three guards and when you return Tellie to the inn, make sure those men are expelled from this region.”
Leoren saluted, crossing one arm over his chest. He turned to Tellie. “Once these men realize their plot has been foiled, they shall either return to their master or continue in pursuit of us. Your village should suffer no harm. Are you assured of your safety?”
“Will they recognize me as leading them to you?” she asked timidly.
“If you go in by a back way and remain out of sight while we send them off, they should see no association.”
She took a deep breath, feeling some of the tension fade. What an unexpected and strange form of deliverance! Kelm would never believe it!
Curtsying again to the king, she said, “Thank you for the story. And thank you for explaining everything to a servant girl. I know it really didn’t matter if I knew or not.”
King Rendar looked up at her, a small smile curving his lips. “Do you think so?”
An uncertain laugh escaped her. The way he spoke and the way the elves straightened at the sound made her fee
l as if she should be important. “Should I think otherwise?” she asked nervously.
“You think this all a coincidence,” he said, his intense gaze never wavering. “You think it was a random event that Daran and his men came to your inn, dropped the necklace, so that you might pick it up and bring it to where the magpie could take it and lead you to us. No, Tellie. There are no coincidences in the craft of this world.”
She did not know what to say. Perhaps a thank-you was in order. It was all very well if it wasn’t a coincidence, but then, what was the point if it was destiny?
“I’m dying, Tellie,” the elf king said.
The only sound left in the forest was that of the stirring ferns and the creaking branches.
After a few seconds, she realized she wasn’t breathing. She managed to untangle the knot in her throat before gasping, “What do you mean?”
He sighed and rubbed his hand across his knee. “My life is sustained by the light within me and it has waned under shadows of sorrow and pain. I am not long for this world. After my death, my adviser and ambassador, Lord Leoren, will become steward of Aselvia.” He fixed Tellie with his gaze. “And I have chosen you, Tellie Carlson, to give the moon medallion to the next king of Aselvia.”
“What?” Tellie said.
“What?” Leoren and Casara said.
Calmly ignoring the fact that he’d shocked his entire retinue, the king held out the necklace.
Tellie stared. She couldn’t speak. Finally, she squeaked, “You can’t be serious!”
Rendar ducked his head to hide a smile, before returning with a perfectly serious expression. “Tellie,” he said. “I did not come to Shadowshade Forest just to honor my son, but to find you.”
Judging by the nervous whispers of the elves who made no effort to conceal their surprise, she guessed they hadn’t been aware of this either. The king sent a brief look their way, and they quieted.
When Tellie still didn’t take the necklace, Rendar gently took her hand and slipped the medallion between her fingers. “Do not doubt, child,” he whispered in a voice that only she could hear. “There is much you will not understand. But you’ve been called to this for a reason. Know that I speak the truth by this—the medallion waxes and wanes with the moon itself. Even when your path seems to lose all light, know that darkness cannot endure forever.”
Moonscript (Kings of Aselvia Book 1) Page 4