Moonscript (Kings of Aselvia Book 1)

by H S J Williams

  “You mean this room is really mine? Really?”

  “Yes,” Casara laughed. “Aselvia is your home now. Are you ready for the day or do you need some more time?”

  “I’m perfectly awake,” she said, gazing in awe at the dresses that Casara was spreading out on her bed. Or if she wasn’t, then it was a delicious dream she’d happily stay in forever.

  “Then I’ll give you a few minutes. I’ll be waiting out in the hall.”

  The moment the door clicked shut, Tellie sprang for the green dress like a wild thing. It was the hue of pale spring and just as soft as it looked. She hurried into it, feeling a bit sorry that she’d not yet taken a bath and would mar its peerless perfection. But even wearing it made her feel like something pure and radiant.

  That is, until she took a look in the mirror. Oh dear. When, just when, had she gotten so skinny? There were shadows under her eyes and her cheeks were even a bit sunken. A closer inspection revealed that the smattering of freckles had exploded into a cloud. Over the journey, her hair had tangled and broken and altogether frizzed. Even when it did return to its normal curling state, she wasn’t sure it would look decent. Curls didn’t seem to be the fashion here. And the dress hem pooling on the floor reminded her that she was not exactly the tall and elegant type.

  Folding her hands and sucking in her breath, she stepped out the door. Despite her best attempt, she could not quite look the woman in the face.

  “Beautiful,” Casara said and it sounded like she meant it.

  Just a little more confident, Tellie hurried in the woman’s swift footsteps down the arched halls, past epic murals and even more epic views of the landscape and city outside. “Where are we going?” she whispered. Now that she was here, she wasn’t even sure how to start. Adjusting to this kind of life, well, it would take some getting used to.

  “To breakfast with Leoren and I,” she said, casting a smile over her shoulder. “We have something we’d like to discuss with you.”

  Not even daring to imagine what that might be, Tellie nodded and kept mute the rest of the walk. They passed through an indoor garden which opened up into a small dining room. Only one set of table and chairs was taken, laid out with steaming dishes of food and tea. Leoren stood beside it, adjusting the napkins with a critical eye.

  “Good morning, Tellie,” he said as the came in and pulled out a seat for her.

  Tellie folded her hands in her lap, not even noticing the savory smell coming from the covered plate before her. She could only stare at Leoren and Casara as they sat down, giving each other a meaningful glance.

  “Tellie,” Leoren said with a deep breath. “Back at the inn, when we bought your freedom to take you back here, we were hoping…”

  “We want to adopt you, Tellie. Have you as part of our family.”

  Tellie couldn’t speak. She just looked, lips slowly parting.

  “We realize you are quickly growing into a young lady,” Leoren continued, “and no doubt feel much older after these recent events, but we could still be of great help and support as you continue to—”

  “What does age have to do with it?” she burst out. “I’ve always wanted a family! Do you really mean it? Am I dreaming?”

  “We mean it,” Casara said, laughing. “When we lost you, you left us with your custody papers. Written word carries weight, so our next step will be to write up new papers that acknowledge you as part of our family in the eyes of elves and humans.”

  “Please,” she gasped. As tears began to spill down her cheeks, she found Casara had come over, so she buried her face in the woman’s sleeve. Somewhere behind her, she felt Leoren’s arm circle her shoulders in a strong and secure embrace.

  Dreams didn’t come true very often, not like this. But sometimes they did. And it was those kinds of miracles that made the world so much brighter.

  oOo

  Kelm wandered down a long bridge, eyeing the tall pillars that supported the roof arching above him. The bridge spanned from tower to tower, and roofs of elegant buildings and clusters of trees spread out below him. He wondered how Tellie felt about the height, and then suspected she’d been too excited to notice. He’d barely seen a thing of her in the last few days, though that wasn’t a surprise considering her delighted distraction. She had her family now, and what a family!

  The words of Leoren from just the previous day drifted back to him. “Do you wish for us to adopt you as well?”

  “Golly no!” Kelm had gasped. “I don’t want Tellie to think of me as a brother!”

  Leoren had smiled at this and moved on.

  Sighing, the boy scuffed his shoe along the vibrant stones. Aselvia was a beautiful place, most beautiful place in the world probably, but he couldn’t help but feel that he didn’t belong in it. There didn’t seem to be anything for him to do.

  In the week since their arrival, Errance hadn’t been seen after he’d entered his palace, though plenty of excited rumors about his activities spread amongst his adoring people. Tryss and the few accompanying chemas with her had been taken on an exploration in the forests. The Daisha was likewise off roaming the wilderness.

  “Gloomy faces are out of place here,” a voice said.

  Startled, Kelm looked up into the smirking face of Coren, who stood in the shadows of one of the pillars, so casually near the edge that the boy’s stomach gave a queasy twist.

  “I almost don’t recognize you,” Kelm returned. “You look like an elf.”

  “Shocking, isn’t it? Mother persuaded me to wear attire more appropriate to my surroundings,” Coren explained, fingering his blue-bordered coat. “But I wouldn’t get rid of my chin patch. I think it’s glued on there permanently, anyway.” He glanced back up, smiling. “So then, what’s the frown for?”

  Kelm shrugged. When Coren continued staring, he stammered, “Well, I guess I just feel sort of left out.”

  “Do you wish you’d stayed with the merchant?”

  “My master was a good man,” Kelm said with a shrug. “And I really, really like traveling the world. Whatever I do when I grow up must include that, I think. And I liked seeing the crafts he sold. But I couldn’t leave my friends behind.” Sadly, he looked at his feet.

  “But now you feel your friends are leaving you behind,” Coren perceived.

  Jolting, the boy looked up with gaping mouth. “How’d you...?”

  “Your thoughts are written all over your face.” With a kind laugh, Coren threw an arm around the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Kelm, you just need to give them time to adjust. And you need to find something to occupy yourself.”

  “What do elven boys do all day? Crochet?” Kelm asked, wrinkling his nose.

  Coren made a face. “If that was true, I’d have run away as a child. No, no, Aselvia is a wondrous place for youth. Our young elves mostly explore outdoors, building castles and fortresses; acting out histories and fantasies. They compete in horse-riding, falconry, archery, and dueling. They learn how to paint, carve, draw, sculpt, sew and weave. Reading is a favorite quiet-time, and they’ll often try their own hand at writing books.”

  Kelm listened in growing interest and when Coren was finished, he swallowed hard. “Golly,” he said. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “Indeed, it isn’t. I doubt you’ll be bored unless you wish to be.”

  “Then why’d you leave?” Kelm asked.

  Coren considered. “I love Aselvia, but I’ll admit that it isn’t the home for everyone. I felt myself called elsewhere. And after my marriage with Zizain here,” his smile widened at the thought, “I will return to Oolum.”

  “There?” Kelm frowned. “Not the most decent place in the world.”

  “Most of the world is indecent, I’m sure you’ll come to learn. But it needs help.” Coren looked thoughtful. “I know Errance needs time to recover, which is why I won’t bring this up to him now, but I hope he will not forget everything he saw in the world. He could do great things one day, I know it.” After a long moment of sil
ence, Coren slapped Kelm on the shoulder and started on his way.

  oOo

  The chambers of the prince and the chambers of the king were on the same level of the palace and now both belonged to him. So Errance took them as his refuge and wandered from wing to wing, seeing no one except for the occasional visit of Leoren or Casara, but even they sensed his desire for solitude and so kept away. He did not sleep in either of the beds as the days passed, but sometimes he did drift off while sitting by one of the windows, staring out at the blue sky or bright stars.

  It was all so familiar, yet strange. A world in which he had once lived, the memories distant reflections in a looking glass. He tended to keep away from his own chambers as best he could…it was too painfully obvious that no one had lived in them for a very long time, though the servants had not let it go to dust and decay. As a boy, he’d never spent much time there anyway, preferring his father’s company. But his father no longer lived here…that was the keenest change in his absence, one hard to believe as he drifted about the rooms.

  Everywhere, Rendar’s presence lingered…from the books left out on a small table, to the smell of his clothes hung in the wardrobe. Too often Errance pulled out a robe just to bury his face in it. His father had never quite smelled like the evergreen of the earth elves. A scent as sharp and clear as crystal had clung to him instead.

  On the second morning, he finally shrugged into one of those robes. They fit him better than his old clothes—which smelled a bit musty despite the elves’ best efforts—or any of the new ones brought in by Casara. True, the hem dragged longer than was fashionable, so apparently he’d never grown as tall as his father, which was amazing considering all the stretching he’d gone through.

  Some things in those rooms that he’d taken for granted in the old days now stared at him with a demanding need for more attention. There were two large portraits in the room, beautifully painted by the finest artist in the kingdom. One was of Rendar and his wife, the mother Errance had never met. Strange how he’d forgotten exactly what she’d looked like…perhaps because he had never met her in person. But looking at her again, he was startled all over at the similarity between mother and son.

  The other portrait was of Rendar and him as a boy. Only now did he notice that the portrait had been painted in the exact same position as the first, leaving room for the Queen to be on his other side, though she was not there.

  When the ghostly memories of the chambers closed in too bitterly, dropping him to the floor in grief, a nearer and clearer memory came to comfort him…that of enveloping, warm light and cool, cleansing tears…his father’s hands steady and secure in their embrace.

  That was not the only comfort…another ornament to draw his eye again and again was a long tapestry draping down the length of a wall. How many times had he looked at it without reading the elegant script sewn into the fabric? Oh, he’d known what it said…but that was not quite the same as reading.

  “The Lord is my Redeemer, my Light, the Treasurer of my Soul. So then shall my enemies falter and fall,” he murmured aloud as he read it over. His father’s belief had always been so strong, so sure. A faith Errance had once kept in childlike innocence, and he was not quite certain when he’d lost it.

  But he felt the change of it within him, the strange lightness where once had been a core of solid black. It left him feeling weightless and fragile, uncertain of taking a step for fear of blowing away.

  It was the eighth morning since he came, he pondered, meandering into a plant-shaded and glass-paned sitting room. Breakfast waited there now, laid out fresh by some recent visitor. A bit perturbed someone had been through and out without his noticing, he inspected the tray cautiously, flipping back the pale blue cloth to see the warm rolls, wild strawberries, and the saucer of cream next to a cup of steaming tea. His stomach was still resistant to the whole concept of meals, but the tea he took, because if his stomach did not remember it, well, his mind did. The warm water brewed with fresh mint leaves plucked from the moist shores of a lake…the honey combed from a hive in a tree while herb-scented smoke calmed its little golden guardians…oh yes, he recalled it all. The layers he’d hidden all his memories beneath were not as hard as he’d believed, once wetted with the right water.

  But recalling was not the same as returning, and the latter…he wasn’t sure. The hand holding the cup trembled, threatening to spill the tea. He just wasn’t—

  Someone stood in the doorway.

  He dropped the tea in favor for the butter knife, dull as it was. There was only one kind of being that could sneak up on him without a sound, only one—

  Or…or another elf. Yes. Yes, light-footed elves, they might be able to approach without alarming. Also, Leoren was wearing slippers.

  Leoren stared for a long moment at the shattered cup amongst the miniature lake of tea, and while he did so, Errance fumbled to return the knife to its proper place. “Yes, Lord Leoren?” he said.

  When Leoren looked up, any surprise had wiped away from his features, leaving only the kind smile he’d first walked in with. “I was wondering how you felt this morning about coming out of here for a little while. We know you need time, but…we are missing you. We’ve missed you ever so long, and well, they are finding it hard to be patient.”

  “They?” He blinked, still trying to calm his racing pulse.

  “Your people. The elves. Your new friends. All of us.”

  “I…” He bent over the breakfast tray, scrambling for some pretense of normality. Perceptions of people had never mattered before; let them think what they want, so long as he was safe. But it would have to be different now—it was different. They knew him, or at least the old version. And for their sakes he had to try to find it again. So he popped a strawberry into his mouth and pretended its tartness didn’t startle and overwhelm his taste.

  “So I was thinking,” Leoren said, easing into a chair and helping himself to the strawberries, “that you might need a role to help you re-merge. You are the heir, already the king by right, and the people would feel more secure with the throne taken again—”

  Errance choked on his last swallow. After a moment of hard coughing, he braced himself against the table and faced his uncle. “Leoren, I…I am no true king. Father appointed you as steward, and I thought you could continue as such until I find…my footing.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard to get up without a helping hand,” Leoren said gently. “Sometimes it’s hard to move forward without motivation. Yes, I am a steward and I would be there to guide and teach you, but the crown is something you need to wear. Give yourself a chance and a responsibility. It will give you a path on which to walk. Trust me. You’ll need one.”

  A breeze slipped through the only open window, stirring the curtains and ringing the chimes. Errance’s gaze followed its invisible path through the room until everything had settled into calm again.

  “I’ll think on it,” he said at last.

  40

  oOo

  "Please come, Errance.” Casara’s eyes were misty, the same mournful color as a heather field in twilight. “I’ve been telling her you’ve come home, but I don’t think she believes me.”

  “Will she recognize me?” His fingers clenched tight, hidden beneath the long sleeves of his robe. His grandmother…her mind had been a fragile thing even when he was young. Rendar had always called him a healing balm to her, coaxing her out of the webbed corners of her soul. But he feared what his appearance would do to her now. Send her into more shock? Trouble her with his change? Or worse—would she look at him and feel nothing at all? What if he had been lost to her memory?

  “She will.” She grabbed his sleeves, tugging his hands out of their hiding place. “You need to see one another.”

  He had no more excuses. He couldn’t prolong it forever. So he let himself be led through the halls and up the stairs to an upper tier garden. The air was still cool with morning dew, the light twinkling through pale green leaves to paint a golden latti
ce upon the earth. In the corner of the garden, sitting at a table half covered in ivy, was a figure huddled in a cloak, staring into the pond at her feet where silver-blue fish glittered at the surface.

  “Maava,” Casara whispered, kneeling beside the woman and cupping her thin face. “It’s Errance. I’ve brought him to see you.”

  She lifted her head, but she didn’t look for him. Her expression remained unchanged, unseeing. Strange. It was true he felt many things in Aselvia had stayed still in in his absence, but the feeling wasn’t so strong as it was now. She looked exactly as she had in his childhood. Frail with waxen skin and hair streaked with grey. Perhaps her expression a bit more empty than before.

  He took the last few steps into her vision and took his place kneeling before her as Casara slipped to the side. Her thin hands were folded in her lap, and he felt the urge to take them in his as he used to. His nails bit into his own palms instead.

  “It’s me,” he said, voice barely scrapping through his throat. Why was he starting to shake? She needed more than that, she needed his name, she needed some prompt, some trigger to remember—

  Fingers touched his cheek. “There you are,” his grandmother whispered. “There’s my Errance.”

  His eyes widened as he looked up into her face. She was staring right at him. A gentle smile curved her lips. His chin trembled. “I—” But he could say no more than that. A loose tear slipped down to his jaw, but she caught it on her finger and brushed it away.

  “I’ve been wondering when you would come see me,” she said, voice still so soft it could have been carried away on the lightest breeze.

  “I’m sorry,” he choked. “I’m here now.” Somehow her hand had guided his head to her lap like the old days, her other hand running down his hair. Everything had changed, and yet nothing had. Here, even if just for this moment, he was a boy again.

  “You will be a good king.”

  He jerked upright. “What?” Startled, he looked to Casara and then back again. Did she mean in the future, a mere encouragement such as she used to speak to him, or was she more aware of what had taken place than he guessed?