“Perhaps…” was the only response Orian made.
They all walked on in silence as they made their way to Tarangale. Only Dvargan and Grafdrik were chattering to themselves endlessly about who would have sent the Guinea Hawk.
Mallick was doing his best to block them out.
As they came to the end of the tree line, Tarangale came into view. Before them, spread across a clearing of no more than three hundred paces, was a town of log built houses and shops surrounded by a stockade fence of thick pilings.
They headed for a simple entrance that was large enough for two men side by side or a single man on horseback.
“Sneaking in the back like thieves are we?” Mallick asked.
“On the contrary, we are conveniently entering by the guard entrance that is closest. We also do not wish to get caught in a crowd,” Orian started. “Unlike the trained elves of the rangers that were with me in the forest, most elves are far too curious for their own good, and would cause a display in the trading center were we to enter by the main gates.”
Orian led them to a large structure toward the back of a row of understated cabins near where they entered the village.
“This is our main meeting house in our Southern settlement,” he said.
“You have other settlements then?” Mallick asked.
“Many, we elves do not call Tarangale our mother home. This is but our place of trading and center of communication within the realm of humans.”
Orian took them to a large room where several older elves sat around a table deep in discussion. At their arrival the elves quieted and met Shuran’s eyes.
“Elders, I bring you the one they call Shuran. He may be the mixed blood we have been expecting.”
Before Avrank could interrupt Orian continued. “The dwarves claim him to be the Shin’Ar.”
At this statement the elder elves began whispering among themselves, apparently upset.
“Come forward Shuran claimant of the title Shin’Ar, we would test your right.” The oldest looking elf by far was addressing Shuran on behalf of the council. “We are the eldest of the elves and carry the burden of living among humans,” he said.
“I do not pretend to know what right I have to be called Shin’Ar, but I know what responsibility has been thrust upon me by prophecy or the Gods or whatever it may be. I am a man at only the age of over eight harvests. I can control forces I barely understand. I do not ask for this. I do not want this. I accept this as what I must do,” Shuran said with all his heart.
“And why do you accept this fate?” the elder asked.
“If not I, then who shall stand in my stead?” answered Shuran. When there was no reply Shuran continued. “My mother gave her life that I might live. My father went out in the lands to foretell my coming before I was birthed to this troubled world. I must go were the path leads,” he finished.
“Your words are heart felt young man, but before we allow ourselves to commit to your cause, we shall test you. Dalgon was a friend and I trust in his words but we need more to trust in his wisdom,” the elder elf finished.
Shuran was thrown by the mention of his father’s name. “You have seen and spoken to my adda and yet you question my identity?” Shuran asked indignantly.
“Oh we have no doubt who you are Shuran son of Dalgon. We question what you are and what you will become. We are not alone in this.”
The elder rose and spoke out to all in the room. “On evening fall next, we shall test his claim, to see if he stands worthy. The Shin’Ar is a heavy responsibility. Many worship his memory. The elves do not!” With this last statement he turned and left, the other elders following behind.
“Do not concern yourself over much Shuran Shin’Ar, son of Dalgon,” Orian said. “Elder Voreen is weary for good reason. He is nearly five thousand summers of age, by far the eldest of our race. He only reaches this age as a direct descendant of a member of the first Zidu’Si.”
Shuran had a sudden flash. “He is from the line of Grastrell!” Shuran said.
Orian was shocked by Shuran’s revelation. “How could you know this?”
“I had a flash of knowledge that is not of my own living experience,” Shuran said. It was only a half fallacy. As the Shin’Ar reborn he also had access the vast knowledge inside the Vault. He did not remember ever reading records of past Zidu’Si but he could not dismiss the possibility he was gaining memories of another.
Orian took Shuran and his companions to a cabin where they would stay as guests of his family. “Shuran Shin’Ar, you honor my house by sharing our roof and bounty. Please make my home yours for as long as you stay,” Orian said.
“You call me Shin’Ar. May I inquire as to why you do so when your elders insist I prove my worth?” Shuran asked.
“Do not judge us all or even the whole of the elders by the words of Voreen. He is wise and weary, but also proud. It was considered disgrace when his great grand sire returned to the elves and the Zidu’Si disbanded. It did not matter that the Shin’Ar disappeared to some unknown place or purpose. It only mattered that he was Zidu’Si no more,” Orian said.
“Perhaps when he learns the truth he will be less prideful and more full of pride.” Before Orian could question Shuran he continued. “I will not say more until my test.”
They ate well that evening. Orian did not have a mate but his sheesh lived with him and he was mated, and adda to several elf sprats. They were more than excited to have guests of any sort. To have the one, who may be the Shin’Ar reborn to Ersetu, was more than they could stand.
The elfin sprats all ran about making crafts and pictures to gift Shuran and his friends. Orian’s sister by mate joining to his sheesh was making every elfin delicacy known and several that were not.
Orian brought out nectar wine, bottle after bottle.
Shuran drank freely. He was concerned about the tests.
“Do not worry so much about these tests Shuran Shin’Ar. You will pass whatever they throw at you,” Avrank said.
“I might be able to provide insight Shin’Ar,” Orian said.
The next morning Shuran met privately with Orian in a room that served as a study. “There are many books here on elfin use of the electric forces around us.”
“I do not think they will be of use,” Shuran said.
“You believe yourself a master of this ability then?” Orian asked him.
“No, but to master a thing I must first understand it. What I need is to feel it, experience it, harness it.”
“Then let us begin,” Orian said with a sly smile.
They stayed secluded in the room all morning. When they finally came out Shuran looked completely drained while at the same time elated.
Mallick came up to him with concern in his eyes. “Sheesh! You look like a heaping pile of yak scat!” he said.
“Thank you my chosen brother. As usual you find the words to point out the obvious. I am fine, just need some food and a bit of rest.”
Shuran took a mid-day meal and then rested for a few hours before receiving a communication from Codger. He conferred with him for several minutes before cleaning up and changing his clothing.
Orian came to lead him to the elders for trials of right. “They are ready for you Shuran Shin’Ar,” he said.
As the others began to follow, Orian turned to face them. “You are all welcome to follow, but like myself, we will have to wait outside while Shuran faces the trials alone.”
They accepted this poorly but understood. As a group they started out for the council meetinghouse. A sizable crowd gathered and followed. Elves are consummate gossips; therefore everyone in the village knew what was about.
“We will be here waiting for you Shuran,” Mallick said.
“I hope you packed a meal and bed rolls my sheesh, because this may be a while,” Shuran said with a forced smile and turned to enter the council room. The door closed behind him with a thud and a slide of the brace that locked the chamber.
“Shuran, son of Dalgon, you stand here to answer the right to title, Shin’Ar,” Voreen said. “Prepare for your first test.”
Shuran took the chair set in the center of the room. Before he could adjust to the seat, he felt an attack on his mind. Images of his past flashed before his eyes. They were a jumble of past experiences and knowledge. He nearly lost himself before he was able to begin controlling the flow of information and direct it. Slowly he began placing barriers around the most sensitive of memories.
Gratefully the onslaught did not reach his knowledge about Durangug or the extent of his abilities. The only information that surfaced was irrelevant experiences. Except for one. The memory of Grastrell was accessed. Voreen gasped in surprise and the onslaught halted.
“What is this memory!” he demanded.
“What memory might that be elder Voreen?” Shuran asked without emotion.
“Do not trifle with me mixed blood!” Voreen spat back. Voreen then sent an electric pulse toward Shuran.
Shuran lifted his hand and effortlessly palmed the pulse. He turned it to look at it. Slowly he opened his fingers to allow the sparks of energy to dance upon his open hand and down along his arm. The sparks scattered across his body without effect.
“Your great grand sire would be ashamed at your actions Voreen. He was Zidu’Si. He was never release from duty, only set on a different path,” Shuran answered.
“What path? How do you know these things?” Voreen implored.
“His duty was his alone and between him and his Shin’Ar. I am new and my path is different.”
The council conferred for nearly half a turn before resuming. “You will show us a final demonstration of worth. Something was not retuned when Grastrell left the service of the Shin’Ar,” Voreen said.
Shuran raised his hand to stop further speaking. “I am aware of the Agal Kastu. You wish to have it returned.” Shuran said flatly.
Gasps came from the elders.
Voreen stood and moved toward Shuran. He had a look of longing for piece and forgiveness on his face. “Please Shuran son of Dalgon. If you be the Shin’Ar reborn, then you have it in your power to return the Mighty Bow,” Voreen pleaded. “It is not my intention to keep the Agal Kastu from your people. I only question that you have and elf among you, worthy to receive it on their behalf.” Shuran said with a sideways look and tilted head.
Voreen was taken back by the statement and felt shame. He now understood that he stood before the Shin’Ar, back amongst Ersetu. He bowed before Shuran.
Shuran exited the chamber less than two hours after he entered.
Orian had a look of surprise on his face.
Shuran’s expression was blank.
“What is the outcome Shuran?” Mallick pressed.
Shuran did not respond at first. He pointed for Mallick to hand him his wine skin. Shuran drank deep before handing it back. “We will finish this in the elven capital city before your Queen Mother,” Shuran said as he walked on toward Orian’s home. “We will leave in the morning for Entensiama.”
Orian was again shocked silent.
“What is Entensiama?” Mallick asked.
“It is the elven capital and home of the Queen Mother,” Orian said. “You are honored to be invited,” he said.
“Oh we were not invited, and you are coming with us,” Shuran said.
“You mean to just arrive uninvited to the elven capital?” Mallick asked. “Are you looking to start a war between the elves and the whole of Aurderia?” he continued.
“There will be no hostilities my friend. Voreen will be sending word ahead of us by bird announcing our intentions,” Shuran answered.
“And what, if I may be so bold Shin’Ar, is intended by this visit?” Avrank asked.
“I shall be pronounced Shin’Ar reborn to the elves as I present the Queen Mother a gift of faith.” Shuran started. As he looked at his friends who wanted more, he turned to Orian who was beside himself with concern.
“Do not worry my new elfin friend. All will be well.”
“I am sure you will be accepted, but an elf not on the council must be a resident, or granted access to the home of Queen Mother. I cannot simply show up as your escort,” Orian explained.
“You will not be escorting us, Voreen will. I hope you would be accompanying me as a member of my Zidu’Si, someone must become the barer of the Agal Kastu.”
Orian bowed his head in acceptance.
“It would appear that whatever Orian shared with you helped during your tests?” Mallick asked.
“Yes, in part, but I think what worked best was knowing what kind of man Voreen is,” Shuran answered.
“And what kind of man is that?” Avrank wondered aloud. “He seems like a cantankerous old toad!”
“He is a wise elf, but with a damaged pride. Pride can make a man do dangerous things, imagine what the pride of an elf the age of Voreen could get up to,” Orian said.
“I do not imagine he gets ‘up’ to much of anything these days,” Avrank cracked.
The others just sniggered uncomfortably.