A Dead God's Tear (The Netherwalker Trilogy) (39 page)

“
Greetings human. I am Ganiele,” he said, flourishing his hand into a small gesture that left him looking up at Marcius expectantly.

Marcius held a smile. So that was the purpose of the scrolls. This was a test. When two different races met formally, one was required to greet the other in their native tongue. He returned the gesture, “
Tiarle, Ganiele. Ai’le de Marcius.” The pronunciation was difficult and he knew he fumbled a bit, but the look of surprise on the elf’s face told him that he was close enough.

“
I see you have been busy, Marcius. It is good to have a human who learns our culture for once, though I fear what I am about to do will take away any sympathy you might have for our race.”

The look the elf gave Marcius was so severe, such a harsh shift in body language, that Marcius was momentarily taken aback. “
Sit, human,” Selene said, gesturing to the chair.

Mar
cius obeyed reflexively, sitting down before he even had time to question what it was they were going to do.

The elven mage grabbed Marcius by the head, pressing his thumbs
sharply into his temples.  The mage started to mutter arcane phrases, the thumbs moving in time with each sentence and Marcius’s magic senses went crazy. He felt so vulnerable without his nether sight! There was real magic, real strong magic, at work here!

“
What are you doing?” he bit the last part of his question off as a particularly strong jolt of magic surged through his body. “How can you do this, in this room?”

The mage gave a wry grin, but it was Selene that answered. “
This room is designed especially for human wizards. It doesn’t affect our spell casting. Now be quiet, let Ganiele work. This will go quicker if you cooperate with us.”

Still, with every arcane pass, Marcius
’s sense of “wrongness” only got stronger, matching the rising crescendo that he felt in the very core of his body. He was a string strung too taut, teetering on the edge of a bottomless chasm.

Then, with a final word, the thumbs stopped moving and the string snapped.

Power came pouring forth from the elf, bashing and casting aside whatever feeble barriers Marcius had around his mind. It was a torrent of water rushing through the valley of his memory, picking up bits and pieces of whatever it chose. It roared with the fury of a summer storm.

The pain was excruciating, rattling every facet of structure that made him who he was. It felt like something was pulling the
very fabric of his body apart, stitch by stitch. Marcius felt the power change, a different side of the same dangerous coin; it became subtle, but also sharp, like a knife.

Now, instead of crashing through his memories, it stalked them like a hunter, grab
bing each one, pulling them forcibly out, and examining them in detail. The pain became worse, if that was possible. It reached a fevered pitch, a whine that chilled the very marrow in his bones.

Flashes of his memories, some long forgotten, flickered in front of his eyes, punctuating each stab with a figurative one. Glimpses of Jared talking, Antaigne
’s burning cottage, his father’s vacant stare. . . All his insecurities, fears, failures, and everything else that made him. . . well him, that he valued, laid bare for this. . . intruder.

His inner self raged at the injustice. He wanted it gone, out of his head! Away! It did not belong! He focused on that thought, anger lending him strength against th
e pain. The memories that flickered before his consciousness became clouded in red as his fury gave him leverage that he never knew he had. The power recoiled, as if shocked, and Marcius surged forward, instinct taking over.

A shock wave in mind as well as
body ricocheted through the room, and Marcius found himself on his knees as his head wound throbbed painfully, his vision misting over in a red haze. Several long moments passed before his sight cleared and he had the mind to glare at the elven mage. His anger was replaced with bewildered astonishment.

The room was untouched, though the light rippled like a pond disturbed. Marcius could only guess as to the havoc that played within the nether itself. The mage was on the ground, flat on his back, holding hi
s staff in front of him, as if afraid of it. A blackened pit was all that remained of the once bright jewel, smoke trailing it in wisps. Selene seemed equally tense, frozen in place as she glanced warily back and forth between the mage and Marcius like a cat that had to choose between two mice.

“
Tialere d’e Avalene. . . ” the elven mage breathed, pushing himself up to his feet with a groan, though his eyes never left the staff. The mage’s face was pale and a sheen of sweat glistened as he stared thoughtfully at the staff.

Slowly, as if it pained him, Gianle pulled his gaze away and their eyes met. A long string of emotions showed themselves on the elf
’s face. Surprise, anger, disbelief, and the most dominate one was blatant fear. Marcius wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but lingering anger prompted him to match the elf’s stare and it was the mage that looked away first.

“
Human,” the mage whispered in a voice so low that Marcius had to strain to hear it, “What exactly are you?”

“
What did you see?” Selene asked in Common for Marcius’s benefit.

The mage shook his head, pointedly not looking at Marcius. “
He is no threat to Selenthia. Though I saw things that raise suspicions of other problems, they are not any of our business.”

“
And what of this magic? I thought this room was warded from such things?”

The elf gave a dry chuckle, running a hand through his hair, “
You know there is only one answer. You were right.”

“
You mean. . . ?” Selene whispered, switching over to elvish halfway, “Dialre de yeiern. . . Akblaleth?”

The elven mage nodded, and finally Marcius had enough. “
What are you two talking about? I’m innocent, right? So why do I still feel like a prisoner?”

“
Such rashness, from these humans. . . ” and the mage trailed off when Selene raised her hand.

“
Human, though Ganiele hasn’t found anything, it still must be brought before our council. They will be the ones to pardon you. Plus, the magic you have done in this room must also be brought up. This. . . this should not have happened.”

“
But it wasn’t my fault! I don’t even know what I did. He went through my head and I just reacted!”

“
Perhaps you don’t understand the situation you are in, human. You are a prisoner of war. Though you are not guilty of action against Selenthia, you are guilty at being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Your freedom will come at our pace, not yours.”

“
That’s not fair!” Like a whip, Selene’s hand shot out to grab Marcius by his collar and with surprising strength, she dragged him to where they were face to face.

“
Many things in Faelon are not fair. The destruction of this forest isn’t fair. The comrades that die in every battle isn’t fair. The corpses of our children that you humans leave behind isn’t fair. You will learn your priorities. You are at our mercy, and it is time that you realize that.”

Marcius
’s heart pounded in his chest as his very blood seemed to chill at the elf’s words. The emerald eyes continued to bore a hole into his own, daring him to contradict her words. When he didn’t, she let him go with a jerk. Chastised, Marcius fell back onto the floor rubbing his neck ruefully; the wound on his head throbbed painfully.

“
You could at least call me by my name. Considering all I’ve been through, I’d like to think I’ve earned that much,” Marcius muttered a bit louder than he’d intended.

Selene
’s eyes narrowed and Marcius braced himself, but her face softened and she gave a light nod of consent. “Aye, my apologies. . . Marcius. That much we can do. You will find your stay here not unpleasant if you are not impatient, though you are still restricted to this room. You are a curiosity, something we did not account for, and the council shall take some time coming to a decision about you. At the very least, we will have to inform the Academy of your existence.”

Marcius nodded g
rimly. It could be much worse. The Academy would have found out about him when he had showed up to their doorstep anyway. Hopefully he could get in touch with Alicia before then. Until that time, he was stuck, as Selene had said, at the mercy of the elves.

“
Wait!” he said to the retreating backs of the two as they opened the door, “What. . . what did I do just now?”

Selene turned, and there was no anger. It was a guarded blank expression that scared Marcius far more than anything else that had happened. “
If it is what I think it is. . . may Avalene save us all. . . You. . . should not exist.”

The door shut, and the bolt slammed into place. Marcius stared blankly, his mind reeling at the elf
’s words. He should not exist? What kind of response was that? What type of magic had he done? He always seemed to have a difficult time when Antaigne had trained him. Simple things that should have been mastered easily always seemed to slip through his fingers. . . when had he been capable of the feats he managed in the last couple days. . . without Faerril?

He plopped down on the hard wooden floor, running his hands through his hair until they got caught in the bandages. Gently he hugged his knees, rocking back and forth. Marcius felt so alone right now, so far away from h
ome. It suddenly hit him. Was it worth it? Was magic, was his dream, worth all of this? Should not exist. . . he missed his father and friends so much right now.

But most of all, he missed Faerril.

❧
　❧　❧

“That was cruel. Throwing him in the ocean like that.” Two figures overlooked the seaside cliff. The waves roared on the rocks below. The rest of the area hid beneath a heavy fog. Off in the distance, the moon hung low.

“
Cruel? Maybe. But necessary,” the second figure replied with the hard feminine voice usually reserved for aging mothers. “It got him to where he needed to go.”

“
Will he remember your interference? Might it not cause him to question why he took that jump off the boat? I wonder if it is really necessary.” The first figure replied, the thin rasp of his voice barely discernible over the crashing tide.

“
Of course it is. The boy will not remember the reason for falling, just that he did. I was too careful to miss something so simple. He is a dull piece of metal. He must be forged, sharpened, and given purpose. He is weak now, but so is everything at some point. Soon he will be a weapon the likes of which they’ve never seen.”

“
Weapon? Indeed, perhaps. Still, meddling like this. . . it is unbecoming.”

“
I’ve mettled much to get to this point. You need to hammer and destroy metal to make a sword, bending it to the shape you desire.” A brief pause as the little play on words was digested. “It wasn’t meant to be pleasant. But the end choice, well, that will be in his hands. We will need him. . . to go where we may not.”

“
And if he chooses something other than what you want?”

There was a window of silence, where much is said without the clumsy interference of words. Then, “
He will choose the correct path. Anyway, it is out of our hands for the moment. . . he will soon meet. . .
him.
”

There was a snort. “
Are you sure you wish to risk your weapon with the likes of such a creature?”

“
He is chained by magics and rules as ancient as we are. Also, I think it all appeals to the vain part in his soul that wishes to change the world, rather than sit off to the side, watching it pass him by.”

“
Maybe, but remember that even chained dogs still have teeth. You might find
his
around your throat one day.”

“
Do you speak of the boy. . . or the creature?”

“
Yes.”

Chapter 23

T
he door swung open dramatically, quickly followed by a host of elves filing into the room with military precision. Marcius rubbed his weary eyes in surprise as a fully armor clad Selene strode in as well, a beacon of confidence. “Come, Marcius,” she said in a voice that left no room for debate, “It is time for the council to see you.”

Marcius scrambled out of bed, his heart beating hard wit
h both relief and apprehension. A few days had passed since he had seen anybody, and he had settled into the uncomfortable pattern of a man that had nothing to do for an unforeseen amount of time. It was wake up, reread the scrolls on the table, eat the food that always mysteriously appeared between bouts of restless sleep, then, since there was no sense of time in the windowless room, go to sleep when tired.

As soon as his feet hit the floor, he was surrounded on all sides by grim-faced guards. They were a
ll typical for elves, thin in body and fair of skin, though there was no sparkle in their eyes, no sense of boundless barely contained energy.  Nothing showed but a determined countenance that spoke far louder than if they had openly threatened him. If he tried to escape or do anything they didn’t want him to, strayed too far from the path, Marcius knew he was dead in half a heartbeat.

Large manacles were clasped on his wrist; a small sheet of hard metal that was attached came over to snap into place betwee
n his fingers. To stop his spell casting, Marcius realized.  The elves were very thorough.

As he followed them, escorted on all sides by the guards, he finally got a decent look at Selene. She strode through the winding wooden hallway, leading the processi
on with a sense of authority that impressed Marcius. Just who was she? She had called herself a Battle-Mistress, and it was obvious that she commanded a bit of power at least, if the fine make of her armor and the obedience of the guards was any indicator.

Marcius couldn
’t take his eyes off her. He shouldn’t have found chain mail and armor that interesting, but Selene was simply radiant. The way she walked, the subtle curves hinted at underneath the metal, the afterglow of her skin. Her every movement was analyzed, dissected, stored in his memory, and it all left him desperate for more.

Marcius tried not looking at her, directing his attention at the snaking hallway of wood. It was at least an interesting diversion, since a multitude of carvings of unintelli
gible designs adorned every inch of the walls. Marcius would have bet his familiar that they were enchanted with some sort of magic, from the way they pulsed and warped the area of his magical sense like ripples in the ocean.

With a magnetic pull, he found
his gaze yanked once again to Selene. Something about her made his chest constrict painfully. Who would have thought heartache was a literal term? And why did it have to apply to someone so. . . unreachable? One of the guards nudged him roughly, catching his eye as Marcius began to protest. The guard silently shook his head, and Marcius closed his mouth as his face heated up in embarrassment.

They came upon a large set of double doors, and it was only there that the grim procession paused as the guards sna
pped to attention at their approach. “Marcius, beyond these doors are the most powerful leaders of Selenthia,” Selene said as she steeled herself, “You will only speak when spoken to and answer their questions. Nothing more, or I will strike you down right there and no one will correct me. Understand?”

She didn
’t wait for his response, nodding to the guards who pushed the doors open with practiced uniformity. The entire procession continued into a large dim room. Shadows could be seen moving in alcoves along the wall and the shuffling of feet echoed. In front of them were five chairs on a raised platform, forcing Marcius to have to look up to see them.

“
Welcome, Marcius Realure, to the Selenthian council,” a loud male voice proclaimed.

A single light, powered by magic, flickered into existence and a hard shove prompted Marcius forward to stand in the middle of it. It was then that Marcius realized that he stood in the middle of a large auditorium like room, and the stands were filled wi
th the shadowed forms of elves, all whispering excitedly amongst themselves. He felt like a novel attraction at a fair, something to be gawked at and shuffled a bit nervously as he waited.

“
As per standard of a trial where one of another race or nation is held trial under our law, all proceedings shall be spoken in the defendant’s native tongue. Marcius Realure, do you recognize and understand the words being spoken to you?”

Like a stunned animal, Marcius jolted to attention. “
Yes?”

The voice was monotone, t
aking on the plodding of rhetoric said many times in the past, “The trial shall commence. Defendant, allow me to present the representatives of Selenthia.”

Five figures stepped out from the gloom, taking their respective seats in the array in front of Marc
ius. When they settled, another light flared, illuminating the area between the judges and Marcius with a dull glow. Five piercing glares greeted him, worn by solemn elves that seemed to carry such an air of authority that Marcius felt humbled to be in their presence. These were the true powers in this ancient kingdom, and the seriousness of his position was reinforced. Marcius doubted such people were called out for petty claims.

“
Marcius Realure. You are being charged with crimes against Selenthia: assisting members of a Morlian raiding party that was routed by the Battle Mistress Seleniale Destane Liarne, attacking a defender of Selenthia, and finally, being a non-Academy sanctioned wizard. Do you have someone who speaks for you?”

Marcius was just about t
o say something when Selene stepped forward, her armor bright, “Aye, I will speak on his behalf.”

He could only look at her in astonishment. She caught his eye, her head shaking subtly, and at last Marcius understood. They had already decided what they wer
e going to do to him. This was only a show for the other nameless elves watching on the terraces that surrounded him, something to reinforce and justify whatever their ruling was.

“
Battle Mistress Selene, the council recognizes your authority in this matter.  Please, continue with a recount of events.”

The next few hours were a whirlwind of arguments, recounts, testimonies, and accusations. Selene argued on his behalf magnificently, her s
harp eyes flashing as her even sharper tongue challenged every charge from angles Marcius never even considered. She was beautiful and Marcius found himself enraptured with her, but a growing sense of uneasiness kept pricking on the edges of his thoughts.

He had difficulty placing the feeling, but eventually his eyes settled on the cause, a set of figures that stood out even in the dim of the room. From the way they held themselves and the way the other nameless elves gave them a wide berth, it was obvious
that this was the center of power of this room, despite appearances of the judges. These two were the sun and everyone else just circled around. Marcius felt himself being drawn in.

“
Marcius Realure, please step forward and accept your judgment.”  Surprised, Marcius pulled his eyes away from the two figures.

“
Step forward!” Selene hissed under her breath and Marcius obeyed reflexively.

“
Marcius, having reviewed the testimonies, we have reached our verdict,” Marcius held his breath, “On the accusation of aiding a Morlian raiding party. . . you are found innocent due to circumstances beyond your control. On the accusation of attacking an agent of Selenthia. . . you are found guilty.”

Gasps and murmurs erupted from points all over the room, Marcius was about to
say something, when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Selene shook her head wordlessly, and then indicated to face forward.

Once the noise died down, the speaker continued, “
But, we also agree that his actions were understandable, and since he had not aided the raiding party, he had sufficient grounds to defend himself. So he will receive full pardon. It is not our place to deny anybody the right to defend themselves.”

Selene took a step forward to stand next to Marcius. “
What about the final charge, honored elders?”

“
The final charge: practicing magic without Academy sanction, we find the human guilty. Unrestricted magic use is of great concern to everybody, no matter the race.”

Marcius
’s heart fell at those words. What punishments would they enact?

“
So, as such, we are placing you, the accused, under martial law, within our kingdom, until the Academy is able to come and claim you. It is their area of rule, and elven law must bow to that priority. We will send runners out to inform them of your existence come the morning.”

Marcius looked up, daring to hope. That didn
’t sound so bad. The Academy is where he wanted to go, after all. “During your tenure within our kingdom, you are expected to be accompanied at all times by a council appointed guardian. Be found outside without a guardian and you shall be killed, no questions asked. As long as you obey this mandate and our laws and customs, you shall be unmolested within our kingdom.

“
In fact, you are being allowed a rare privilege. Since the beginning of the war, you are the first human, outside of the Academy, that has been permitted within Selenthia. It is an honor that you should treasure. We rarely take prisoners in war. Our lives are long, and our memories are longer, it may be untold centuries before we allow free humans to wander these paths again.”

“
Who shall be his guardian?” Selene asked.

“
Why,” and there was a trace of amusement in the stale voice, “you, Battle-Mistress Selene.”

The look of surprise on her face was genuine, and it became evident that
she hadn’t been privy to all the behind the scene decisions. “Honored elders, I can’t be pulled with war looming in the horizon to look after some human! There are so many things that have to be done!”

“
Battle-Mistress, you will stand down!” the voice reprimanded harshly, “This human has been wronged by us. War is no excuse to ignore justice. We will not lose ourselves in the atrocity of battle like the very humans we face. We are elves, the first-born. This is your duty and your penance. Or do you wish to defy our ruling?”

Selene
’s jaw tightened, but she bowed. “My apologies, honored elders, I will do as you command.”

“
Then you are both dismissed. May Avalene watch over you all.”

Selene bowed. “
May Avalene bless the council with judgment and wisdom.” She did an about face and stopped to look back at Marcius, “Come, I will begin my duties as your guardian.”

“
What about these?” Marcius asked, holding up the manacles on his hands.

The elf started with surprise, and then blushed. “
My apologies, Marcius, for there are many things on my mind.” She produced a key ring and began undoing his hands.

A bright light invaded the room, illuminating the area and making Marcius squint. “
What was that for?” he asked.

There was a click as Selene removed the final manacle. “
The trial is over, so the light spell is allowed to work once more.”

“
Why exactly was I the only one in the light while the rest of the room was dark?”

“
Elvish tradition. The eyes are the pathway to the soul we believe. It is not for the accused to see the judges’ thoughts.”

Marcius thought about it for a second. “
Makes sense if you look at it like that.”

His eyes wandered around the trial room, now bared for him to see. It was massive and followed the same trend that Mar
cius had seen in his room, being carved into hardened wood. There were large balconies that stretched all the way to the ceiling, which allowed people to view the trial below where he was at. It was like a gigantic inverted top, and it left Marcius feeling a bit self-conscious.

He really stood out here.

Now that the trial was over, there was the general murmur and shuffle that always accompanies people leaving. All along the walls, groups of elves were heading toward the doors. Marcius’s eyes widened. The myriad of clothing and sheer otherworldly nature of the elves just amazed him. They moved with a grace that mirrored Selene’s, flitting amongst each other in a flowing cascade of colors and fabric as they chattered animatedly. Marcius couldn’t believe that they had all come to just see him. Was a human in Selenthia really that such a significant event?