Relieved, Kelm straightened with a heavy sigh and trudged out the final few steps to come along the elf’s side. “You can’t sleep either?” he asked.
Errance shook his head.
The boy climbed up on the rock beside him and stared out into the trees. He pulled out the small knife from his belt, picked up a branch, and began to shave the wood away.
“Errance,” he began hesitantly. “Have you ever wanted to marry a girl?”
“Excuse me?”
“Marry a girl,” the boy said, and without waiting for an answer he plunged ahead. It was indeed a random question to spring on the prince, but it had been on his mind for some time, and there wasn’t anyone else with whom to discuss it. “It’s just that I like Tellie a whole lot, and she doesn’t pay me much attention. And what if she doesn’t want to marry me?”
Errance sat blinking in muddled shock. He twisted around to get a good look at Kelm’s face. “You like Tellie? Like that?”
“What’s not to like?” Kelm asked, eyes round. So what if she had a fire-cracker temper? He liked it.
“Well,” the elf said awkwardly, rubbing one sleeve. “Aren’t you a little young to be worrying about that?”
“I suppose,” Kelm sighed, his shoulders sagging. “But gosh, Errance, I’ve got to worry about it sometime or she might just go ahead and marry someone else. How do you impress girls?”
Thoroughly shaken by two unexpected questions over such a small period of time, Errance was reduced to stammering. At last he took a deep breath and said evenly, “Impressing women has not been my concern.”
With another hefty sigh, Kelm said, “Yeah, but you’re sure good at it anyway.” Not noticing the start this gave the elf, he stared at the sky with furrowed brow for another few minutes. “What about falling in love, has that ever happened to you?”
For a moment, it didn’t seem as if Errance would answer or if he’d even bother trying. But when he looked down at Kelm’s earnest face, his expression changed into one of consideration.
“If I did, I don’t remember. So either no or it wasn’t important. When I think of home, I usually just think of my father…and all I’d have said to him.”
“Oh.” Kelm looked crestfallen. “Your father…he meant a lot to you, yeah?”
Errance was silent. But then he whispered, “He meant the world to me.”
The boy nodded sadly and waved the whittled piece of wood in his hand. “My pa taught me how to carve when I was a boy. Said it was good to keep busy. And it…keeps him close.”
“You seem skilled,” Errance noted. “Considering there is hardly enough light to see by. When did he die?”
“Well,” Kelm said, shifting. “I don’t think he did. He dropped me off at the orphanage when I was nine. Said he couldn’t take care of me. I think he felt…sorry…He drank a lot, you see, and that changes folk. People said he turned to drinking and rage after my ma died giving birth to me. But I don’t think he wanted to beat me, so he said the matrons would give me a better…future.”
Errance stared at him. “…Your father,” he said.
“Uh huh.”
“Your father beat you.”
“Only when he was drunk.”
They said nothing more for a long time, simply stared at the star-filled sky spread out before them, scarfed with streaming grey clouds lit on the edges by moonlight. The Daisha growled in her sleep behind them and Kelm jumped, but when he saw Errance didn’t, he pretended he hadn’t either.
“Say, Errance,” he said. “How’d you get so strong?”
“Brutal slave labor, celestial resilience, and stubborn determination.”
“Oh.” Kelm twiddled his thumbs. “Is there a way more suited to me?” he asked hopefully.
Errance’s eyes followed the path of a shooting star, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smirk. “Growing up might help.”
25
oOo
Having part of my former life return to me feels so surreal. It was so long ago, and we have both changed, The Daisha and I. Yet it’s all still there. The friendship, the trust. I’m glad His Darkness had never known of the bond we shared or he would have ruined that too. Like he ruined everything else.
In other circumstances, Coren might have found it amusing that his own people were so suspicious of his appearance. Granted the guards who first found him and Zizain after they’d crossed the border were fresh-faced youths who he didn’t remember seeing before, but even their captain, who he did remember, had stared. If his short hair and clothes were this shocking to strangers, he couldn’t wait to see what his parents thought.
But if he was fair, they had a right to be on edge. Aselvia’s border had always been protected by an invisible shield of light set in place by King Rendar—only a native of the land and anyone they invited could pass through. So it was reasonable that the guards could have at first feared that with Rendar’s death, the shield had gone down. Coren did not believe this was the case. He was quite certain he’d felt the shield as he’d passed through, like a breath of fresh wind. The light Rendar had poured into the royal swords had not dimmed nor had the light in Errance, so it seemed that what had already been given was to remain.
It was strange to come home to an Aselvia without King Rendar. He could feel the grief running through the roots of the land, could hear it in the silence of the city, could smell it in the misty air.
Once the guards had escorted him into the palace, he waited in a small wing, because there was no need to go to the court, and he didn’t want to see the empty throne. Of course, through his youth, the throne had usually stood empty because Rendar had better things to do than sit in it. But an empty throne in which Rendar would never sit again. That. That was different.
Rendar had always been a good uncle to him. A little somber, a little strange. But kind.
Coren cursed under his breath. Couldn’t you have waited a little longer? Did you have to die at all? You were this close to seeing your son return.
“My,” Zizain said, lounging across a couch and stuffing her mouth full with the grapes a servant had brought into the room. “This place is amazing, why ever did you leave?”
Coren looked around at the intricately painted walls hung with dried greenery. He could smell the fresh evergreen and the damp earth blowing in through the open lattice window. His heart hurt. Maybe that was another reason why he’d always been so reluctant to return home—maybe he hadn’t wanted to realize how much he’d missed it.
“Coren?” An elf woman stood in the doorway, her lavender eyes wide with shock. “Coren!”
“Hello, Maava,” Coren said, but got no further since the wind was knocked from his lungs by the woman’s leaping embrace. He staggered back a step, but managed to hold onto her as she wrapped her arms around him and began to weep.
After a few moments, she pulled back, swallowing down hiccupping tears. “You came back. Because of Rendar?”
He winced. “Well. Yes. Yes, and more. You see, it’s about…well, is Daava here, I’d rather explain with both of you at once.”
“He’s not here, he’s…” She paused and stared at Zizain who perched on the edge of the couch, smiling shamelessly through the whole reunion. “Oh…I…I did not realize you brought a guest home.”
“Oh yes,” Coren said, far too fast. “Um, yes. Maava, this is Zizain, a friend…um…a friend from work. Zizain, this is my mother, Casara.”
“Brights!” Zizain cheerfully swore. “Elves really do age as well as they say!”
“Oh,” Casara said, looking anxious. “Um, thank you?”
“What were you saying about Daava?” Coren asked, eager to move on.
Contrary to Zizain’s observation, he thought his mother did not look well. Her fair complexion was bleak and her usually thick brown hair hung listless. He’d never seen her like this, even in his wild youth when he’d driven her to distraction.
Her slim fingers were trembling as she took both of his hands in hers. “
Coren…much…much has happened in these past few days. There is something I must tell you. It is better that we sit down.”
“Oh, good,” Coren said. “I was about to suggest the same thing.”
“It’s about your cousin.”
“Yes, we’ve met,” Zizain said, popping another grape into her mouth.
Casara went white.
Afraid she might faint, Coren reached out and caught her, throwing an exasperated look at Zizain who had the decency to look abashed.
“You know then?” his mother gasped. “You found him?”
“Yes, in Oolum, but how did you know he’s alive?”
“A letter from Rendar…right before he died.” Tears were spilling down her cheeks, and she shook in his arms. “Coren, where is he? If you found him why isn’t he with you!”
Coren sagged. He wondered even now if he should have taken drastic measures to make sure Errance came home. Perhaps he should have knocked him over the head or slipped something into his drink. But he hadn’t wanted to break Errance’s trust like that, and anyway…he wasn’t sure he could have bested or tricked a man who’d spent seventy years surviving attacks.
“Maava, you must understand. He’s been a prisoner for a very long time, and I only just found him recently escaped. He’s very…well, he will be very different then you remember him.”
“Still handsome, but ornery as a hornet,” said Zizain, then clamped her mouth shut with an audible click when Coren gave her another look.
Casara inhaled slowly. “We…we knew that would happen. It’s been so long. Poor boy. Did he run from you then? Did you come back for help?”
“He has said he’s coming,” Coren said hesitantly. “But yes, I did come back so we could go and meet him and make sure that he arrives safely. He took the route around the cape.”
“By himself? What about a girl? Was a young girl with him? Rendar was so strange right before death, he declared a human girl we met would find the next king and then—”
“Oh yes, Tellie! I forgot you’ve already met.”
A small cry broke from her, and she buried her face in her hands. “She’s alive, thank God! We were in Denji, and she was taken by servants of His Darkness. Your father has been out looking for either one of them…we hoped somehow they were brought together.”
“She seemed to be in good health and spirit. And she’s not the only one with him,” Coren said. “There’s a boy and a chema woman too.”
Casara stilled, a disturbed expression clouding her eyes. “A chema…why is a chema with him?”
“There’s a tribe that lives in the jungle near Oolum, quite different from the Northern folks, I’d say. Don’t worry, Maava, she seemed an intelligent and compassionate young woman and was really the only reason I let Errance out of my sight at all. She’s serving as their guide and caretaker.”
“Coren, I’ll tell you what Rendar told us, and then you must tell us everything. I’ll call an emergency meeting of the council, and then you can explain all.”
It was a new experience seeing Coren so out of his element. Zizain couldn’t decide between amusement or pity every time he stammered or hesitated or nervously scratched his jaw. This insecurity was strange to observe.
She supposed he didn’t know how to explain her. Most people in Oolum assumed they were a couple and it wasn’t an issue there. They were a couple of partners in crime, but that was it. Clearly, an assumption of anything further was not appropriate here, and maybe Coren could explain that, but there didn’t seem to be an opportune moment. In the beginning of their friendship, she’d teased him mercilessly, trying to prove he was as corruptible as other men. No success. He was unshakeable and she’d grown to love him for it.
The council seats spread in a crescent from a great tree, and from the tree’s roots rose a white throne. Zizain guessed that it would be empty throughout the meeting.
“Coren, take your father’s chair,” Casara said, gesturing to the seat at the right hand of the throne, before sitting at the left.
Zizain began to sit down next to him, but he caught her arm in alarm. “That’s General Reyin’s chair,” he said.
“Is he coming?” she asked.
“No…he’s….we leave it empty to honor his memory.”
How many dead people would be coming to this meeting? She had enough grace to keep the thought inside, but another quip slipped out. “Shall I sit in your lap then?”
Coren went red to the ear-tips. He would have laughed it off any other day, because he knew she only teased to try and get a reaction out of him. She certainly got one this time, and not only from Coren but from his mother’s concerned inhale. Poor man. For the first time in her life, she felt the urge to blush. “I’ll just wait till you’re finished with your meeting,” she said lamely, tugging hard at her earring.
“No,” Coren said, recovering. “You sit, I’ll stand.”
Zizain sat, feeling a bit awkward about it even without the elf woman’s stare fixed on her, but she figured she owed it to Coren to not make any more of a scene.
It was then that rest of the council began to arrive, and she forgot the embarrassment in exchange for the fascination of each appearing member.
One tall man with thick black hair strained with white especially caught her eye, and not only for the white, but for the scarf wrapped around his head and covering his right eye. His ageless, ancient features immediately gave her a new understanding of why humans liked to call elfkind immortal.
She tugged Coren’s sleeve. “Who’s that?”
“Damarik, our head healer,” he whispered.
She stared without any shame only to discover he was looking steadily back from his one dark eye. Not a judgmental or shocked stare, just arcane and wise and penetrating—
She hastened her inspection to the next seat as Coren muttered their names in her ear. “And that’s the army’s lieutenant…um…Valryd, I think…standing in for Commander Maril.”
“Where is our elder priest?” Casara said.
“He had already gone into the woods for his evening prayers,” Damarik said, his voice as calm and deep as lake water.
“That could be a while then.” She hesitated. “Well, the rest of us are here. Thank you for coming so quickly, councilmen. As you can see, Prince Coren has returned, and he brought us news of Errance. He met him in Oolum.”
Everyone seemed to have something to say to that and precious little could actually be heard. “Is he safe—why hasn’t he come back—how did you meet him—has he really been—what does—”
“Hold it!” Coren threw up his hands. “One at a time, eh?”
“Is he captured or free?” one elf asked.
“Free, but only just recently. He’s been held in Tertorem, like Rendar told you, I hear.”
“So how is he physically?” Damarik asked, concern rippling his composure.
“Well…like Rendar, he has an absurd healing ability. I saw him freshly injured while we were in the city together and it hardly slowed him down. As for scars, he had several horrible ones, but they were fading. All except for two tattoos. One that I recognized as the mark of the Red Three. The other said…Property of His Darkness.”
The tension coiled tight as a noose.
“And is he?” Valryd asked.
A hiss of pain escaped Casara and she gave the man a strained glare.
“It must be asked,” the lieutenant persisted. “If he has been in the clutches of Darkness this long, who knows how much it has changed him. Is he…is he…” But even he could not finish.
“Has he accepted the Darkness as his master, Coren?” Damarik said quietly.
Zizain rubbed her brow. She could actually feel the pain pouring off these folk and it was uncomfortable.
Coren’s jaw clenched. “He is….much darkened…but he is a fighter. He’s not…not evil, if that’s what you’re fearing. He’s just…hurt and angry…and afraid. I could not convince him to come with me directly. I believe he feels unworth
y.”
“He does not know,” Damarik murmured, touching the wrap upon his face. “As a child he saw only our perfection. This is the consequence of hiding our history. He does not know that we understand. He does not believe healing is possible.”
“Exactly!” Coren exclaimed. “So we have to go out there and show him! Let him know that he’s as loved as he ever was! He’s coming from around the sea. So we need to contact my father and the army. If the army was headed to Tertorem, we must have just missed each other crossing the sea. I did see an unusually large fleet of ships on my way over, so that must have been them. If we send a message, they can start traveling in Errance’s footsteps and we can come from above, and somewhere in the middle, we will find him.”
“Tertorem.”
Everyone startled and turned.
Zizain observed a newcomer pace into the council, a bit smaller than the rest of them. His sandy hair and brown eyes matched the shades of his simple robes, and she thought his face the most unremarkable of the elves she’d met thus far. “Who’s that?” she hissed at Coren.
“Oriah, our elder priest,” he whispered back.
A priest, was he? A holy man? There weren’t many people in Oolum who’d dare to call themselves a holy man, but Zizain had always gotten the impression that they should look rather extravagant and regal.
“What about Tertorem?” Casara asked.
“We must go and join Leoren at the foot of the mountains.”
“Hang on,” Coren said, turning ashen. “I sent Errance’s pursuers on a false trail. Are you saying he’s back in Tertorem already?”
“If that is so, have we missed our chance?” Valryd cried. “We have besieged Tertorem before to no avail! What will be different this time?”
The priest gave a sad, small smile. “Ayeshune revealed a vision in the Unseen as I prayed tonight. I saw the mountains dark against a pale horizon. The message has been spoken. We must go.”
26
oOo
Kelm has been positively giddy over this secret plan he shared with us in the last few days. He acted as if I couldn’t keep a secret. Honestly.
Moonscript (Kings of Aselvia Book 1) Page 31