Disclaimer: The recognizable characters appearing in this story are © Wizards of the Coast, Inc. and Elaine Cunningham, all rights reserved. They are used without permission and for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made by the author for writing this story. No infringement upon nor challenge to the rights of the copyright holders is intended; nor should any be inferred.
Elf-Bane by Ssinurn Solen
Chapter One: Silent Scream
1321 DR
Little Katla Wisteria sat in the middle of the tangle of blue roses. she was hacking away at the dead branches with a dull half of a broken pair of pruning shears.
Light golden butterflies danced in her tangled curls. The color of the butterflies matched her hair color almost exactly.
She was pretending to be the damsel in distress from the story Amnestra had told her the night before. Although, she felt she was doing her own rescuing.
The butterflies tickled her nose as she peeked through the thick, thorny brush at King Zaor in his gardening clothes.
She believed he had dressed that way just for her. He was supposed to be the lowly gardener who became the Prince of the Pruning Shears, just like in the story.
She unhooked a piece of her ragged blue gown from the thorny vines and stifled a giggle as she watched Zaor hack away at the rosebushes.
"You are supposed to be napping in there Katla." Zaor whispered as he peered at her through an opening in the thorns. "How else am I going to kiss you awake?"
Katla giggled again as she tossed aside the half shear and rolled carefully onto her stomach. She rested her hands on her chin as she continued to watch the king prune the blue roses.
Zaor knew his little golden sprite should be abed taking her afternoon nap, but he could not resist letting the childlike maiden play.
Katla was older than she acted, but she had a traumatic life, so the king indulged her a little.
Katla had witnessed her mother's murder. Katla's father, Isolder, wanted to protect her. He sent the girl away with her nursemaid.
The nursemaid as a choice of protectors was a horrible mistake. The female and her small family had given in to madness.
When Isolder retrieved his daughter from the nursemaid, the girl had been taught nothing but childish play. The nursemaid was determined to keep Katla a child, in mind if not in body.
Zaor, out of love for his trusted friend, took Katla to foster at Moonflower Palace. He knew that Katla would learn to act like a normal girl eventually, but there was no need to not indulge her from time to time.
Amnestra was supposed to be keeping an eye on Katla.
Instead, as soon as she thought Katla was asleep, Amnestra went to meet her lover, Bran Skorlson, for an afternoon tryst in the gardens.
Katla was only faking sleep. As soon as Amnestra was out of sight, she jumped up and ran to the trunk full of play clothes.
She showed up in Zaor's study. A well-worn wooden play tiara was askew in her golden white curls.
Katla announced she wanted to play the Princess Briar Rose just like the story her Auntie Ama's story.
Zaor wanted to ignore politics for the rest of the day, and Katla's abrupt appearance gave him just the excuse he needed to do just that.
Zaor hacked a few more times at a particularly stubborn branch. "Isolder will be upset." He thought to himself, "His daughter is no more tame or no more mature than she was when he left her here a year ago."
Isolder Wisteria was a High Lord in the Order of the Holy Knights of the Astral Blade. A clerical order of fighters and weapon masters that served Corellon Larethian. They were the closest things to paladins that could be found among the elves.
Isolder sent his twenty-one-year-old daughter to court in order to keep her protected from harm.
Katla was born with violet eyes. To some elves, that meant she was an elf-bane, a havocker.
The elf-bane was a cursed being that caused death to of all those around it. It was a thing born of an elf, but not an elf.
Zaor scoffed at the rumor and superstition. He knew where the falsehood had originated and tried to stifle any prejudice against Katla.
Over the year, Katla had succeeded in winning over most of the royal court with her exuberance.
Zaor's daughter, Amnestra volunteered to champion Katla. She was very protective of her charge, most of the time.
"Uncle Zaor."
"Yes Katla."
"When are you gonna cut through and kiss me? I am getting sleepy."
"Good. I couldn't kiss you awake if you weren't asleep. Besides you need your rest. Your father is sending one of your brothers, Luran I think, to take you to your father's house tonight for the celebration."
"I don't like Luran. He smiles when he up to something very naughty."
"Well your oldest brother, Zarvim, is getting married. You do want to go meet his bride?"
"Again?" Katla rolled on her back and groaned. "This will be his fourth one. He is worse jilted than papa."
"Not quite" Zaor muttered to himself.
Isolder had gone through a total of nine wives. Three of them died, the rest left him for greener pastures. Katla's mother had been Isolder's ninth wife.
Zaor looked up towards the outer hedge of the garden. "Ah, Katla. I think I see one of your brothers coming this way."
Katla carefully rolled over and crouched on her knees. She peered through the bushes to see the male King Zaor was talking about.
She did not recognize the male, but Katla had not met half of her seventeen brothers and sisters.
Zaor turned and waved at the male heading towards him.
Katla started making her way out of the rose thicket.
She saw the dagger hit Zaor's chest.
Katla froze as Zaor fell backwards. His hat tumbled to the ground as the blood pooled around his chest.
She covered her ears and tried to scream, but the sound could not get past the lump in her throat.
Katla watched in horror as the male checked the locket from around Zaor's neck and erupted in laughter.
Katla shook as she tried to scream again and again, but no sound would come from her throat. A shadowy mist came out from her lips, but no sound.
The man did not see her. He did not know she was there.
Katla's mind raced "I am not supposed to be here! I am supposed to be taking a nap! It's my fault! He came because of me, and now he's hurt!"
Katla fainted as the sound of Amnestra's scream echoed through the gardens.
"Katla, little one, wake up." The gentle, melodic male voice sang through Katla's head. "Precious jewel, you must wake."
Katla opened her eyes and slowly tried to crawl from the rose bushes. She felt weak. She was cold and soaking wet. Every small movement was an enormous effort.
She tried to speak, to find the man who had woke her, but no sound came from her lips.
Her eyes blurred as she reached the edge of the rosebushes. She wanted to curl up and go back to sleep, forever.
"Gods!" a guard shouted as he pulled Katla the remaining way out of the tangle of rosebushes. "Over here! I found her!"
"I saw him.. I saw him.. Uncle Zaor.. I saw him." She mouthed out soundlessly before she fell into unconsciousness again.
It had been three days before anyone noticed that Katla was missing. In the panic surrounding Zaor's death. No one had thought to look for the girl.
After two days of searching, it was determined that the assassin might have kidnapped Katla to use for his own ends.
Most of the court wanted to believe that assumption. Seeing as Katla was an elf-bane, they determined to cancel the search.
Amnestra fought fiercely against their prejudice against Katla's eye color. She convinced a few of the royal guard to continue the search.
Yet, even Amnestra admitted that an abductor could put the elf-bane myth to use.
Amnestra grabbed the limp girl from the guard and felt her forehead.
"Katla, wake up sweetie. My gods! She is running a high fever! We need to get her to the palace, out of these wet clothes and to the clerics right away. "
Katla partially opened her eyes and grabbed Amnestra's face. "I saw hi... I saw him..." she mouthed silently.
"Shh now. Save your strength. Tell Lord Isolder we have found his daughter."
"Why was she in the rosebush?" One of the guards asked.
"More importantly, why did all of you miss her when you searched the gardens?" Amnestra thundered.
"Those blue rosebushes are so thick and her dress is the same color as the blossoms. "
"That is still no excuse for leaving a young girl out in the weather, without even a light shawl, for seven days!"
"We do not know she was in there that long."
"She was. She may be feverish and silly, but she is not stupid. She mouthed out that she saw him. She witnessed Zaor's death!"
Several of the guards parted as Amnestra ran through the palace screaming for clerics.
The word, elf-bane was loudly whispered as she sped past.
Isolder pushed a stray curl from Katla's brow. Although her fever was gone and her color returned, she had still not woke after six weeks.
"Father, you do not need to keep such a sad vigil. Get some rest. You need to go instruct the knights. You need to get away from her, for a while."
"But Sandrine, I have failed her. I failed her worse than I failed her mother."
"Father" Sandrine stood and embraced Isolder. "Kara's death was not your fault. She knew how jealous her lover was when she cuckolded you. You married her mother out of pity, because grandfather told you to. Go. I love my sister. I will take care of her. The order needs you, especially now that Zaor is dead."
"I have put too much effort into the Order. My devotion to the Order is what drove six of my wives away. How will she survive without me to look after her? She is so fragile and childlike."
"She is tougher than you think, father. You are letting the legend of the elf-bane cloud your judgment. Endrina has managed to get broth down her. The clerics are making sure she stays hearty. I know a few of my siblings might want to harm her, but I won't let it happen. Those of us who love her dearly will protect her for now. I am more worried about you."
"I want to be here to tell her that the King is dead. She had a crush on him, you know."
"So did every other young maiden in Evermeet. Zaor was aware of it. He loved her like she was his own daughter. She would have grown out of her infatuation."
"Thank goodness my father was called to Arvandor before Katla was born. He would have had her killed."
"She is a good girl, father. Please , for your own sake, go get some rest."
"How did I get such loving and devoted children from so many deceitful wives?"
"By the will of the Seladrine and the blessing of Corellon himself. How else could you wield both one of the nine Holy Astral Blades and a Moonblade?"
"The Moonblade does me no good. I am half sun elf. That makes me unworthy of it."
"You will surrender the Moonblade soon then?"
"Yes. Your full brother, Malkim, accidentally touched it last week. It glowed for him. He will have it as soon as Katla wakes."
"Are you sorry we chose to take our mother's maiden surname?"
"No, of all of my wives, Iria Silverveil was one of my most loyal. If she had not died birthing your second full brother, I would have only have married three times."
"Will you quit talking about nothing father and go get some rest?"
"Alright, alright. Just tell me if she wakes up."
The, huge, living trees that made up Wisteria Manor bustled with activity. The manor lied just northwest of Leuthilspar, near the spot where the river Ardulith and river Shaelyn converged.
The oaks that made up the older section of the manor had belonged to Isloder's mother, Beryl Moonshay. Isolder's father, Cordelat Wisteria, had brought the wisteria trees that made up the main house as a betrothal gift.
Cordelat was the last survivor of The Wisteria sept from Myth Drannor. Although Cordelat shared a common ancestor with House Nimesin, he could not count on any of his distant relatives for help. Cordelat was not noble blooded enough for them.
Cordelat and Beryl had two children. Indiria was born not long after they were married. They were afraid that their precious daughter would be the only child they had.
Indiria had grown, married Onaagron Straan, and had a child of her own before Beryl discovered she was pregnant again.
Isolder became the precious child of his parents' old age.
For many years, Isolder believed that his father had married his mother because she possessed a Moonblade. When his mother died as a result of a boating accident, Isolder understood how much his parents truly loved each other.
The one thing that Isolder craved was to have a loving marriage like his parents had. Yet, he had been denied that happiness.
He became a cleric of Corellon and entered the Holy Order of the Knights of the Astral Blade. The Order valued his skills as a weapons master as well as a devotee of Corellon. Isolder thought his devotion to the order would fill the void within himself, but it did not.
Corellon chose him to be the bearer of the Gilded Leaf, one of the nine holiest swords of The Order. Isolder felt that finally he would be able to quiet his troubled heart. It did not.
So, Isolder made his children his source of happiness.
The only thing about Katla's illness that made Isolder happy was that most of his older children had returned home. Underneath his stoic, disciplined, hard exterior, Isolder felt passionately devoted to his eighteen children and his many grandchildren.
Several of Katla's half brothers and sisters attended to Katla as soon as she woke up.
Katla tried to speak, nothing but air would escape from her lips.
Over the course of many years, several clerics and wizards tried to find a cure for Katla's muteness, but none could.
Isolder found a wood elf cleric that knew an intricate form of sign language. Jarren Moonwind was happy to teach Katla and Isolder the finger speech.
Even though his daughter had learned a way to communicate, Isolder was desperate to find a cure for her muteness. He sent for the best wizards and clerics he could trust from all over Aber-Toril. None had an answer why his daughter could not speak.
Many elven clerics of Evermeet refused to examine Katla. Too many of them believed in the legend of the elf-bane and refused to go near her.
Queen Amlaruil finally ordered one of her best clerics to see to Katla.
Once the cleric was finished, he met with her father in Isolder's study.
"So, is there anything that can be done for my daughter." Isolder looked at the cleric with a stern face.
"I know what is wrong with it, I mean, her. But there is nothing I can do."
"Well, tell me. Why does my daughter not speak?"
"Her voice has literally been stolen from her. She has a voice, but it somewhere other than her body. I have never quite encountered a spell quite like it before. It is not holy nor arcane in nature. It is as if someone used their hand and took it, as if her voice were a physical thing. Very puzzling. But as she is an elf-bane, it may have been done to protect those around her from her evil curse."
"The elf-bane is a falsehood! It does not exist!" Isolder roared as he went to a shelf and pulled out a small, old book from the shelf. He threw the book into the cleric's lap.
"What is this?"
"A journal, written by a court wizard of Cormantyr. One of my not so illustrious ancestors on my father's side."
"Why should I need this journal?"
"Open it to the page that is marked by the frayed ribbon, and read it."
The cleric opened the book and read.
"Read it aloud, please."
" Tenth Moon: I believe I have found a way to get rid of the meddling from House Alega, a small sept of the Durothil. Their most common physical characteristic is the haunting purple eyes. If I can convince the clerics of my house to spread the rumor that the eye color is a sign of an ancient curse, the other houses may kill off the sept without me having to raise a finger. It worked well once before when I used this tactic. I see no reason why this should not work just as well. It will not be long before I am on the throne, and all of Aber-Toril will bow to my feet. Zhandil Niemesin Wisteria."
"You see. Zhandil's plots may have not put him on the throne, but the damage he wreaked is still running its course. Now, tell me where to find my daughter's voice?"
"My first guess would be some object. I could ask to be permitted to search the rose bushes where she was found."
"Please do. Seven years of silence from my daughter has made her more unruly rather than less. I do not know how much longer I can keep her out of trouble."
"I hear she has become a master swordswoman."
"She is the equal of any young weapon master in my training, perhaps one of the best, despite her age."
"Then she should be sent away."
"No."
"It will be for her own good."
"I said no. Go back to the Queen and send her my devotion, thanks and regards."
"I hope you do not hold the ambition of making the Queen your tenth wife."
"I don't like being insulted. Zaor was my most trusted friend. I would never woo his bride, ever! Get out!"
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