As the Queen and Sir Etan disappeared through the gates of the city, Lord Markal signaled the keepers to draw the bridge and set the seals. He was not comfortable until the rabble rousers that arrived with this stalwart Knight were safely settled outside, far away from the heart of Avalain. As the drawbridge rose behind the small contingent heading for the palace Lord Markal sighed in relief, though a nagging feeling of discomfort would not dissipate with the mere shutting of the gates. Queen Esta too felt the disconcertion of the moment and her thoughts were upon her daughter as well, knowing instinctively that these events and her ‘calling’ were inextricably bound together.
I shall not remain apart from this after all
, she thought to herself, remembering vividly the day her daughter informed her that she had to leave for Pardatha.
Filaree believed that she was riding into the storm, when in fact I may have been ahead of it all the time
, she noted wryly as she wrapped her cloak more tightly about her shoulders.
“Come, let us hasten to the castle. We have much to discuss,” she said aloud.
With renewed urgency the Queen spurred her mount onward down the broad, cobbled streets of Avalain.
Chapter Seven
“He seems so peaceful, husband. His skin is pale, but he shines from within nevertheless. He barely breathes, yet it is adequate I am certain, for his complacent state. I have tried all that I can to awaken him, but nothing has been efficacious. I keep him bathed and groomed although it pains me to cut his beautiful hair. I clip his nails and nourish him with Lalas tea and kala sap when necessary. But I can do nothing to bring him back to consciousness.”
Elsinestra secured the few wisps of flaxen hair that had loosened from her floor length braid, straightened her soft skirts and raised her beautifully sculpted chin so that she could gaze directly into the blue eyes of her husband, Treestar, King of the southern elves.
“You have taken good care of him, my dear. You have attended to his every need. You can do no more than that under the circumstances,” the handsome, ancient elf replied.
“I feel so powerless, husband,” she said, her smooth forehead creased with trouble. “He is under so potent a spell that even I am unable to break it.”
“Some things are as they should be, though we may not understand why at the time. Besides, we have kept him safe and healthy here in the Heights. Now we can do no more but await our son’s arrival. He and his new friends must take over the task when they reach Seramour,” the King responded.
Elsinestra walked over to Treestar and gently placed her slender arm inside of his. She leaned her fair head upon his arm and stared blankly.
“I have grown quite fond of him, you know,” she commented. “Although we cannot discourse, I have developed a strong attachment to the boy.”
“As have I, my love. As have I,” he replied.
“Do you think that Elion will be able to revive him? Or perhaps one of the others with him? What did Baladar tell you in the second dispatch?” she inquired.
“He was brief, for the sake of caution I am sure. He said little that was unnecessary. It consisted mostly of facts regarding the battle, the ‘coming’ of those who were ‘called’ and the retreat of Caeltin. He did tell me how very proud he was of our son and of the extraordinary bravery he exhibited,” Treestar answered, his tanned skin coloring as he spoke.
“I suppose he was concerned that the message might fall into the wrong hands. It would have been unwise for him to mention the heir again,” she responded thoughtfully.
“Once was dangerous enough,” he replied, grimacing. “You knew immediately that he was a remarkable boy, but did you surmise that he was the heir of legend?” he asked, changing the subject for a moment.
“I am not sure, husband,” she said as she stepped away from him briefly and considered his question. “I felt the power the first moment that I entered the room within which he lay. But that was not enough. Many humans are so endowed and often they do not even know of it themselves. When I espied the small lettering upon his pale belly, I at first thought someone had abused him. But the runes were so intricate and beautiful that no elf, human or dwarf hand could have created them. I knew then that he was stricken by the hand of destiny.”
“Davmiran,” he mused upon the name, as he slowly paced the floor.
“A gentle name, but one of strength,” she replied, though her eyes were still blankly staring at the wall of books behind the imposing table.
“A familiar name, although I know not its derivation,” he commented. “I suppose we will learn all that we must shortly, my wife. They departed Pardatha just before Baladar sent us word. It should not be much longer now.”
“Have you informed the scouts of their impending arrival?” she asked, focusing her gaze once again upon her husband.
“Of course, my dear. They have been so nervous lately, with all that they have recently seen. It has not been easy keeping everyone contained in the city and the lifts sealed as well without providing an acceptable explanation. But, I believe it was for the best. Even though we were not directly attacked, I could not take any chances.”
“You did the right thing, husband. The people have been kind to understand without questioning your directives. They believe that we were in danger and that is true nonetheless, despite the fact that they do not know the true reason why. The boy’s safety and security is paramount. Do not concern yourself over the deception. It was a noble one,” she said, and she walked to his side and took his hand in her own.
“I pray that they arrive safely. The wolves have been quiet of late. I hope that they are not resting in order to gather their strength for a renewed attack.”
“They have a Chosen among them. They will be safe.”
“Yes, I am sure they will. I am just so anxious to see Elion again.”
“I miss him dearly too, Treestar. It must have been so hard for him to disobey your will and sneak out of the city when he did. But he had too. I think about that often.”
“He was driven by honor, not deceit. I know that now. What terrible pain he must have suffered thinking he had done so great a wrong. I too think about it a lot,” Treestar rejoined.
“Yes, his journey was borne of sadness and regret. But what a wonderful twist of fate it must have been to finally learn of the fortuitousness of his deed,” she replied.
“Luck played no part in our son’s encounter with the heir,” he said sharply. “And luck will play no part in ours either. We do what we must.”
“May the First always guide him so serendipitously nonetheless, dearest,” she reiterated fondly, taking no offense to his retort.
Treestar walked slowly across the burnished wood floor. The archways that formed the windows were high and graceful and they allowed just enough sunlight in to warm the room and illuminate it, but not too much so as to cause an inordinate amount of heat to accumulate within. He walked to the one nearest him and leaned upon the balustrade. From this vantage point he could see the glimmering roofs of the nearby houses, and in the distance he saw the greenery of the fields, blooming abundantly despite the turmoil on the earth below.
“How ironic, my dear,” he thought aloud. “The sun rises each day, the trees continue to grow and support us, the fields bloom and blossom, our people remain safe and secure here in Seramour and yet the Lalas die below, and darkness approaches the very edge of the city. Are we the last haven, Elsinestra?” he asked.
“We harbor the heir, dearest. He is the last haven, the last hope. You have read the same words as I. He will find the Gem and with his discovery, we will defeat Caeltin,” she answered.
“Yes, I have read the Tomes over and over again. You know as well as I do that the books are filled with double meanings and riddles so obscure that when they seem to speak the obvious, I fear that I may be missing the true message,” the wise old elf answered.
Elsinestra walked over to the wall of shelves on the opposite side of the room. Her light-weight silks rustled only slightly as she moved, graceful as she was. She stood on her toes and reached for a heavy volume, much worn with use and faded with time. As she carried it over to the polished, Noban table, Treestar turned to her.
“Shall we read it once more, my dear? Will a thousand readings unveil to us what we want so desperately to learn?” he asked, frustrated.
“I wish only to speak the words aloud. Sometimes what is hidden reveals itself more easily when spoken.”
She carefully laid the book upon the table and opened it to a page three quarters of the way through it. She respectfully spread the pages flat and then picked up a silver pointer that dangled from a ribbon on the side of the table. Using the tip to guide her eyes through the small print and intricate writing, she began to read:
“The darkness gathers on the shores of dreams,
Blood red flow the rivers and the streams,
Black pools of night smother the land,
Mighty boulders crumble into sand,
Wherefore art the gold and silver bands?
Behold, a man—
Behold, a man—
A child is born, yet disappears,
a tree is born and who will hear its lonely cry?
A fire bursts upon the sky,
The maids arise with open eyes,
And change the purpose of their lives,
and who will know the reason why?
And who will know the reason why?
The sleeping child shall awaken soon,
his senses shall all be attuned
to the other, whom he has yet to greet.
To the other, and should they ever meet
the Gem will burn with fire anew,
and the trees will pass, all but a few.
The trees will pass, all but a few.
The Chosen shall die in the darkness alone
bereft and far away from home,
the body turned to ash and bone.
A stepping stone?
A stepping stone.
This age will fade into the next,
Embracing time with its soft caress,
but will the races pass the test?
Or perish just like all the rest?
Or perish just like all the rest?”
“It seems so sad and hopeless,” she said after a slight pause.
“Yes, on the surface it certainly does. But so much in the ancient books sounds desperate when in fact it is not. Each episode of violence seems only to precede a period of hope.”
“There is so much being said herein. It could mean anything,” she noted, perplexed once again.
“It must be referring to Davmiran when it speaks of the boy ‘disappearing’.”
“Yes, and the ‘sleeping child’ can be none other than he. But what of the ‘passing of the trees’? Are they destined to die? What will the world be like without the Lalas?” she asked sadly.
“It does not say that they will all die. In fact, it mentions a new tree. If a new tree can be born, then there is still hope.”
“Do you think it is saying that all of the Chosen will die? Or, will it be a specific one? The word can be both singular and plural. It is so ambiguous.”
“As always, my dear. Did you expect the Tomes to be clear and spell it all out for us? We can but interpret what we read and hope that we do so correctly. I find it sad too, but in an odd manner I rejoice in the fact that there is an implicit challenge in the words,” he responded, his forehead creased from thought.
“How so, husband? What do you read that I fail to?”
“There is much to be wary of and there is much to cause one to be optimistic. If in fact this is all a ‘test’, then certainly we have an opportunity to pass it. And if we have even an opportunity, then we have cause to be hopeful. Each of the words has been chosen with great care and each is meaningful. It is no mistake that the word ‘test’ appears.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, rising up from the table and gazing once more out the window. “Although the choice of words appears to be sad, there are many that are pregnant with possibilities. You are so right, Treestar. I often lose sight of those in the face of the others. But, I should not.”
“No, Elsinestra. You should not. There is reference made to birth, to awakenings, to change and unprecedented situations. In its own way, I do find it hopeful.”
“You are wise to see it so, my husband.”
“I have no choice but to view it as such. We have the heir here in our very midst. A piece of the puzzle that we have tried to construct for so many ages is right here with us now. The time is ripe for change and change may mean hardship to some, but we cannot hide in the Heights any longer, lest ‘a fire burst upon our sky’,” he said. “No, we must contribute in any way that we can from now on. I agree with you.”
She walked once more to his side, clasped his hands in hers, and turned him toward her.
Staring resolutely into his eyes, she said, “I feel a stirring in the air. With each breeze, my heart beats faster. The boy sleeps so quietly and yet when I am in his company, there is a palpable energy present that is so obvious and so strong that my skin prickles at the contact. If goodness had a face, it would resemble his, I am certain.”
“Whatever he is destined for, may the First guide him and protect him.”
“May the First guide and protect us all.”
“Come, stand by me,” he said to her, and he reached out his hand and led her to the window. “Do you see the clouds gathering in the south?” he asked, pointing to a darkening in the sky beyond the city. “I have been watching them for two days now and they barely move. They are not being driven by the wind which as you know has been blowing with considerable force, but they approach us nevertheless, albeit very slowly.”
“I had not noticed them before this moment, Treestar,” she responded, her voice riddled with concern.
“I pray that our son returns before they overtake us.”
Elsinestra lifted her hand and pushed the window open fully, allowing the warm air to blow against her luminous face. With her eyes closed, she raised her chin and took in the fragrance that the wind sent her way.
“Something evil advances upon us. Could Seramour be the ‘shore of dreams’? Will we survive this, my darling?” she asked, and she looked upon her husband with tear-filled eyes.
“We will survive. The boy is not ‘like all the rest’. With his aid and the Gem’s light to guide us, we shall not perish. Virtue will prevail against this depraved enemy,” he responded with fervor, and then he turned away from the pane. “Tomorrow will belong to Elion and his offspring, I promise you,” he said, slamming his fist hard upon the table before him. “We will not succumb to those who oppose the earth and all that is righteous and good.”
Treestar paused to calm himself down and gather his wits about him once again, although his blue eyes still blazed with the fire of passion. Elsinestra stood quietly, unable to remember a time when her husband had behaved so tempestuously. She admired his determination and confidence, and she loved the ardor within him.
“Come now, let us ready ourselves for our son’s arrival,” he said at last in an even and soft spoken voice.
With the great book under his arm and his wife’s hand cradled in his own, King Treestar of the southern elves and his beautiful Queen Elsinestra, walked out of the stately room and proceeded toward the city common. Once there, as the thickening clouds gathered ominously on the horizon, they rang the resonant bells of congregation and then waited patiently for the crowds to gather.