Wards of Faerie

13

Aphenglow spent the balance of the following day working in the underground storerooms that housed the Elven histories and related archives, continuing her search for information on the missing Elfstones. In particular, she was hunting for more information on Aleia and the rest of the Omarosian family and the connection between the two. She wanted to be certain she hadn’t missed anything here before turning her attention to the Chosen histories.

She found exactly nothing she didn’t already know. Except for one thing.

While searching the writings peripheral to the Elven histories, she found herself sidetracked by references to various maps of the times in which the writings were recorded. Wondering how much of the Faerie world might have been mapped in the earliest of times—particularly the time of Aleia Omarosian—she left her place among the writing archives and moved over to where the maps were stored. She searched them front-to-back without success, but then found a further reference to an ancient file that seemed to be missing. This, in turn, led her to another room entirely, where piles of old maps were bundled in stacks, and she spent the next three hours scouring these.

In the end, she found something unexpected.

Something that might prove even more useful than the diary.

It was a map, crudely rendered and enigmatically labeled, of the world as it existed in the period during which Aleia Omarosian and her immediate family had lived. Aphenglow was able to identify the time period for three reasons. First, the Elven home city of Arborlon was clearly labeled, although it was located in a different place than where it was now; second, the city of Parsoprey—on the other side of the Dragon’s Teeth Mountains—to which Aleia had gone to visit her grandparents, was also identified.

But third and most important, Rajancroft—the home city of the Darkling boy who had stolen the Elfstones after being rejected by Aleia—was labeled, as well.

Even though two of the cities were gone completely and the third moved to a new location, it should be possible to determine approximately where each had once been on the present-day map by using the mountains as a measuring stick.

Which meant it might be possible to find the ruins of Rajancroft and perhaps even the location of the missing Elfstones.

That effort would be aided immeasurably if she could persuade her grandfather and the High Council to allow the Druids to use the seeking-Stones.

She sat quietly for a time after that, speculating on how she might make this happen. She must be strong, but not too aggressive, in presenting her cause. She could afford to press, but not antagonize. There was bound to be resistance, but she had to find a way to overcome it. She had to turn that resistance into support, however grudgingly given. All sorts of approaches suggested themselves, but none of them seemed quite right.

And admittedly, it was still a gamble. As she had speculated before, surely someone over the centuries had tried to use the blue Elfstones to find their mates and failed. There was no reason to think that she and her fellow Druids would be any more successful.

The most difficult part of this business was not being able to be candid about what she was doing or why. Elves in general did not like obfuscation and deceit, and by keeping from them the whole of what she knew of the Druid mission she was perilously close to crossing that line. But she had been told her parameters when she’d suggested this, so she couldn’t very well complain about it now.

She left the palace shortly after, deciding to go early for her dinner with Jera and Ellich. Perhaps getting out of the storerooms for a bit would help clear her mind. As she left the palace and started down the road leading to her aunt and uncle’s home, Cymrian appeared from nowhere and fell in beside her.

“Any problems?” he said, his eyes shifting here and there as he walked next to her.

“Where have you been?” she asked, a bit disgruntled that she hadn’t seen him before this.

“Close by.”

“All day? I never saw you once.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it? If you could see me, so could someone else. I couldn’t come inside the palace, but I figured you were safe enough there.”

“I’m safe enough anywhere.”

“Are you?”

She gave him a look, but said nothing. “Where will you go now?”

She hesitated before telling him, finally deciding there was no reason not to. “To my aunt and uncle’s for dinner. Jera and Ellich.”

He nodded. “Good people. Say hello for me.”

Then he drifted away, peeling off into the woods and disappearing in the same way he had the day before. She stopped to watch him go, intrigued in spite of herself. She found him inexplicably interesting and couldn’t provide a reason for it.

She enjoyed the remainder of the afternoon in the company of her aunt and uncle, and when Arlingfant arrived later on, the four shared the evening meal and several hours of reminiscence and laughter. It was the most relaxed she had felt in days, and when she arrived home that night she went straight to bed and fell immediately asleep.

The following morning, she appeared before the King and the High Council to make her request.

She rose early, but not early enough to catch Arlingfant, who had already gone off to the Gardens of Life to celebrate the sunrise with the Ellcrys and the other Chosen. Ellich had told her the night before—taking her aside for a moment’s private conversation—that arrangements had been made for her to appear in the Council chambers at midmorning. She had been calm about it when told, but felt nervous now that the audience was almost at hand. She gave more thought to what she would say, knowing even as she did so that the direction the appeal would take would ultimately depend on the reaction of the King and members of the High Council to the idea of allowing the Druids to use the Elfstones.

When she walked out the door on her way to the Council chambers, she found Cymrian waiting. She realized she had never mentioned him to her aunt and uncle, even after promising herself she would do so. Her unhappiness at having let that slide kept her from saying anything rude. Instead, she smiled disarmingly.

“Keeping close watch over me?”

“Keeping you in sight.”

“I have to appear before the High Council.”

“I know. I’ll be with you.”

“They won’t let you in. The audience is closed.”

He nodded. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

They walked on as she pondered this equivocation, wondering what he meant. Surely they wouldn’t allow him into a closed Council session. Not with his violent history. In point of fact, she didn’t want him there anyway. What she had to say wasn’t meant for his ears. The fewer people who knew about her plans for the Elfstones, the better.

“Well, I don’t need you to accompany me,” she said finally. “There’s no need for it. I’ll be safe enough.”

“Will you?”

She looked over at him to see if he was joking. He didn’t appear to be. “In the presence of the members of the High Council and my grandfather? Who would dare to harm me?” she demanded, suddenly angry.

He shrugged. “The same people who would dare to try to kill you in your own house?”

She stopped short. “How did you know …?”

“Your sister told me. Did you think I would be doing this if I didn’t believe the threat was real? She had to tell me why you needed a protector or what was the point of asking for one? You should be a little more forthcoming with me. I’m your friend. You should act like you trust me.”

She immediately bristled. “I trust you! I just don’t think you need to be a part of everything I do!”

“Or perhaps part of anything. If you want me to be of any use, you have to think of me as your shadow. I have to be there all the time, not just when you think it is convenient.” He paused speculatively. “Or would you like me to go?”

She almost told him she would like exactly that. But then she would be back to looking for another bodyguard if she were to keep her promise to the Ard Rhys. So she bit back the first words that came to mind and simply shook her head.

“I apologize. I admit I am not comfortable with this. I am used to looking after myself. It feels awkward having someone do it for me.”

He looked off for a minute. “We both went through the same training when we were schooling to be Trackers, and I remember how much better you were than I was at almost everything. You probably think you still are.” He looked back again. “But you’re not. You have the use of Druid magic, which I don’t. But when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, I am more experienced. I want you to trust me on this and let me do my very best to keep you safe. Will you agree to that and let me do my job?”

They faced each other wordlessly for a minute, and then Aphenglow nodded. “Do what you think is necessary. I won’t argue with you anymore unless I find what you are doing personally invasive.”

He stared at her. “I’m not sure what that means, but I think I can accept it as a condition. May I accompany you to your audience with the King?”

She gave him a small nod. “You may.”

They continued on, not saying anything now, just walking together. Aphenglow wasn’t sure she had resolved how she felt about having Cymrian as her shadow, but was satisfied that she had backed him off sufficiently that he would be careful about how far he encroached on her personal life. She would have a talk with Arlingfant later on about the quality of her choice.

They reached the Council Hall and were met by Home Guards at the entry doors. They identified themselves, and to Aphenglow’s surprise they were both admitted. She had been certain the guards would turn Cymrian away, but they hadn’t even tried. Inside, standing in the hallway that encircled the chamber, he turned to her again.

“I won’t go any farther than this,” he told her. “I know you want privacy in this matter, and I can do my job from out here. I just wanted to be close enough to reach you if you should need me. I will be waiting right outside the chamber doors.”

She left him there, moving over to where the Captain of the Home Guard, a man she didn’t know personally but could identify from his insignia, was waiting.

“Will you tell the King I am here?”

“Sian Aresh,” he introduced himself, bowing slightly. “The King already knows. Come with me.”

He turned around, knocked once loudly, released the heavy latches, and pushed the doors open. When he stepped through, she took a deep, steadying breath and followed him in.

It had been a long time since she had been in the chambers of the Elven High Council. Years. She had been a little girl then, trotting after her grandfather as he led her to this sanctuary where no one could enter uninvited. He had made it a special treat, a journey into a room where all the major decisions governing the Elven people were made, where laws were debated and passed, where honor was bestowed on those who had earned it and punishment visited on those who had transgressed. There had been such a mystery to it, and at the time it had seemed a huge, forbidding place. There had been no one but the two of them, and her grandfather, still fit and spry at eighty, had played leapfrog with her before the King’s throne.

She had been so happy that day. It had been such fun.

It didn’t feel as if anything of that time remained as she stood just inside the doors and looked down the Council table past the stern faces of the members of the High Council to the careworn face of her aged grandfather. Emperowen Elessedil had been King a long time. He had come to the throne in his twenties, well before the time he was expected to rule, made King by fate when his parents had died in an accident. He had been King now for the better part of eighty years, and his age was catching up with him. He no longer played games with granddaughters and grandsons, no longer even smiled. In the twilight years when peace and contentment were expected, he was struggling with illness and the pressing demands of a transfer of power in which he no longer had faith.

His heir apparent sat next to him. Phaedon Elessedil, his only son and Afrengill Elessedil’s older brother, was a moody, passionate man whose character and disposition were ill suited to what was expected of a ruler of the Elven people. He was not well liked and certainly not loved, and those who supported him did so out of fear or ambition. He was a poor choice to lead his people, but by chance of birth and rule of law the issue was settled. The best his father could do at this point in his life was to prolong the inevitable, although he probably continued to have hope things would somehow work out.

Aphenglow knew most of this from talks with her sister and the few visits she had paid to her grandfather in the time she had served with the Druid order. Because of her diminished status, she could say little about her grandfather’s decision to allow Phaedon to succeed him on the throne. But she knew it was a mistake the Elves would live to regret, even though the mistake was not of their doing.

Phaedon looked bored and indifferent. He was studying something off to his right, but unless it was one of the members of the High Council there was nothing there to study. She shifted her gaze to the King’s left and the more welcoming countenance of Ellich Elessedil, who gave her a small nod and a smile.

The other members of the Council offered a variety of looks, but none of them seemed particularly encouraging.

She felt very out of place and very much the intruder in the black Druid robes of her order. She should have worn something less confrontational, she chided herself, and immediately regretted it. She was the representative of her order and should not appear otherwise.

“Welcome, Aphenglow,” her grandfather greeted her, his voice civil but very weak. “Do you wish to speak to this Council?”

She took a step forward. “I do, High Lord. I have come to make a request, one that you might initially be inclined to reject out of hand, but if you hear me out I believe you will be persuaded to support it. I am here on behalf of the Druid order and its Ard Rhys, but it is our people who will be affected most directly by your response to what I am seeking.”

“Our people,” Phaedon repeated, not bothering to look up from the handful of papers he was shuffling. “By which you mean the Elves, I gather?”

His rudeness surprised her. “I do,” she replied.

“Yet you wear Druid robes?”

“Phaedon, let her speak, please,” the King said quietly.

“I only seek clarity,” his son replied, again without looking up.

There was a long silence, as if everyone was waiting on a further exchange.

“You said you have a request?” Ellich asked Aphenglow finally, breaking the silence.

“I do.” She gathered her thoughts. “The Druids have discovered an Elven magic from the Old World, one long thought lost. It is not certain that this magic can be found, or even that it still exists. To determine both, the Druids will go in search of it. But the way is unclear. There are no explicit directions that would aid us. It would help immeasurably if we were to be given temporary use of the blue Elfstones.”

She didn’t miss the hurried exchange of looks among the members of the High Council. Only the King, his son, and Ellich showed nothing.

“I dare to ask this of you, High Lord, because we feel we can rely on you to honor the agreement that was made between your grandmother, when she was Elven Queen, and our Ard Rhys when she was at the beginning of her service to the order. At that time, Khyber Elessedil returned the blue Elfstones to the Elven people with the understanding that should it become necessary at some later time the Druids would be allowed to borrow these Stones for limited usage. We submit that such a time is at hand. If the need were not so great, we would never ask this of you. That I have come to you with this request should indicate how important we think it is that you agree.”

“This matter will need serious discussion,” offered one member of the Council. She didn’t know him, as she didn’t know any of them save those in her family and the First Minister, an older woman who at one time had been friends with her mother.

“I am at your service,” Aphenglow said.

“If you were really at our service, you would not be here making this request,” Phaedon declared, his head lifting suddenly, his eyes fastening on her. “If you were really at our service, you would still be living in Arborlon and helping us instead of helping the Druid order.”

“It is possible to help both, Phaedon,” she replied quickly. “It is not necessary that I choose.”

“But history has taught us otherwise,” Phaedon pressed. “The Druids have deceived us time and again. They used us and then took from us. We have expended lives in our efforts to serve them, and they have done little for us in return. Consider the outcome of the war on the Prekkendorran and the onslaught of the Federation heathens. Our King was killed along with his sons. Our Elven Hunters were all but obliterated. The magic wielded by the Druids did almost nothing to help us. Your own Ard Rhys abandoned her people, stole the Elfstones, and went off with her uncle to resolve a private concern. If not for a considerable amount of luck, we might have lost everything.”

Aphenglow shook her head. “I don’t agree. I think the Druids were the ones who saved us all. If not for the leadership of the Ard Rhys—if not for Khyber Elessedil borrowing, not stealing, the Elfstones—the efforts of the Federation to overrun and occupy our homeland might well have succeeded.”

“But if Grianne Ohmsford hadn’t so foolishly allowed herself to be duped by those serving in her own order and gotten herself imprisoned inside the Forbidding, the threat from the Federation would never have materialized. Why am I even arguing the matter? This is all a waste of time. Why should we do anything you ask? You are no different than Khyber Elessedil; you have betrayed us by making the Druids your new family. And now you crawl back because you need our magic? Why shouldn’t we tell you to use your own instead of asking to use ours? Isn’t it apparent that you are no longer one of us? You have disappointed your grandfather and your mother. You have turned your back on all of us. Go back to where you came from!”

The ensuing uproar drowned out her retort. The members of the High Council were on their feet instantly, some yelling in support, some in denigration. Even Ellich was shouting at Phaedon, who calmly ignored him, keeping his eyes on Aphenglow. Only the King sat quietly, looking down at his hands.

“Enough!” he said finally, raising his hands in a gesture for order. The room slowly quieted, and the members of the Council took their seats. “We are in session,” he continued. “We will act accordingly. Personal attacks are of no help.”

“Duly noted.” Phaedon gave a dismissive wave. “What magic is it you seek, Aphenglow?” he demanded. “Does it have a name?”

“Yes, what is it you hope to find?” another member of the High Council echoed.

“Enlighten us,” Phaedon pressed. “If you really need the use of the blue Elfstones in this mysterious business of yours, then surely you have no objection to telling us what it is you seek. Surely we have a right to know what is so important.”

She nodded in agreement. “You do have that right. Yet I cannot tell you. I have been sworn to silence on the matter.”

“How very convenient!” Phaedon leaned back and shook his head in mock surprise. “So even though you will not tell us what it is you are searching for, you persist in asking us to provide you with the use of the Elfstones? And this is based on an agreement that I, for one, have never heard about? An agreement between our dead King and your half-dead Ard Rhys?”

“Phaedon!” The King’s hand slammed down on the tabletop with such force that the blow echoed through the chamber. “You will not speak this way about Khyber Elessedil! She is a member of our household and entitled to your respect!”

Phaedon shrugged. “I meant no disrespect, Father,” he said. “I speak of her as others do. She outlives us because of her magic, and some think she does not really live at all. Not as we define life. Some say she lives a kind of half life.”

“I can assure you that she is fully alive and well aware of how matters stand,” Aphenglow interjected quickly. “I was with her not three days ago. As for not being able to tell you what it is we seek, there are reasons for this. If word were to reach other ears, especially in the Federation, it would complicate matters immensely and place us all in fresh danger. The fewer who know, the better. The way to finding it will likely be treacherous enough as it is. The magic itself is not entirely understood. We do not ourselves know yet what it might do. We must act cautiously. Secrecy is important.”

“Isn’t it always important when it comes to the Druids?” Phaedon asked, shifting his eyes away from her for the first time, directing his question to the members of the High Council. “Isn’t that always the excuse? Isn’t everything you do at Paranor shrouded in secrecy?”

“Why do we not use the Elfstones ourselves to find the magic?” the First Minister asked suddenly. “Why give them over to you? If the search is so dangerous and the magic belongs to us anyway, shouldn’t we be the ones to brave it? You said the recovery of this magic most affects the Elves, that it is a magic that was lost to us in earlier times. So why shouldn’t we be the ones to undertake this quest?”

Aphenglow felt her heart sink. “With respect, First Minister, the Druids are better equipped to carry out a task of this magnitude. We have the necessary skills and experience. We have magic of our own to aid us. We are trained for this. Please let us prove it.”

“I see no reason to agree to any of this,” Phaedon said again. “The First Minister is right. The Elven people can employ the magic of the blue Elfstones better than any Druid can. Use of the Stones requires that the user be of Elven blood. Only three of the Druids now in service, you included, fit that description. We should send our Elven Hunters and Trackers on this quest and keep the Druids out of it.”

There was a murmur of agreement. Aphenglow could feel her hold on things slipping away. She tried to think of a better argument, one that would sway the Council to her side. But the one she understood best was the one they would be least likely to respond to—that all magic belonged in the hands of the Druid order and not in the hands of the people of the individual Races because the Druids were less likely to be swayed by impassioned nationalism and self-serving politics.

“Besides, don’t you already have possession of the Black Elfstone?” Phaedon snapped. “Why don’t you try using that Elfstone instead of asking for the use of ours?”

Aphenglow only barely managed to keep her temper in check this time, saying only, “You know the Black Elfstone won’t help with this.”

“Aphenglow.”

Her grandfather’s soft voice quieted the room. He had straightened in his seat, and because she knew him well from time spent in his company as a little girl, she could tell he had come to a decision.

“Grandfather.”

He nodded. “Your grandfather first and last, but a King of the Elven people, as well. A way must be found to honor both. Tell me again. You require use of the Elfstones so that you can determine if what you seek still exists and then to discover where it can be found?”

She nodded warily. This much had already been settled. There was no point in equivocating.

“Then here is what I will agree to. What I believe the members of this Council will agree to, as well. I grant your request. I will give you use of the Elfstones to accomplish your goals.” He quickly held up one hand as Phaedon and a few others started to object. “But you must use the Elfstones here in Arborlon. You may not take them out of the city. You may not take them back to Paranor. The agreement of which you speak says nothing about that. It only says that the Druids may have temporary use of the Elfstones when the need arises.”

He leaned back in his seat again. “I know you believe this is such a time. Very well. Use the Elfstones and take what you have learned with you when you go. Remember your heritage when you do so. Remember who your real family is. Remember that we depend on you. Do not disappoint us. Do not betray the Elves.”

He paused, waiting on her response. She had no choice. “I would never betray the Elves, Grandfather. Never.” She exhaled sharply. “I accept your decision. I will do as you say.”

Emperowen Elessedil, King of the Elves, nodded slowly. “I am satisfied. The matter is settled. This Council is adjourned.”