Chapter One
The Enchanter's Dwelling
It was Alethiel's fault and hers alone. She had been warned, time and again, not to cross the path in front of the old man's house; an imposing hovel comprised of dilapidated wattle-and-daub. The forest surrounding the hut seemed to grow darker and denser around it, as if shrouding its secrets from the naked eye. The structure's ancient inhabitant was rumored to be every bit as forbidding as his dwelling. "He be a strange one, daughter," her mother, Wilonwyn, would sometimes gossip as she set about her tasks of the day. "There are rumors that he was once a great wizard, a magician of sorts. Then, he was cast down by one of greater power than he. Now, he seeks revenge against all for the wrong done against him. Never go near to his hut, or you may be horribly enchanted!"
Alethiel found this hard to believe. He was just a harmless old man, who had no one to look after his welfare. So that was why she carelessly crossed the path in front of his house that fateful summer's eve.
She had just left the Sillion Festival, where the inhabitants of Down Bywynne celebrated the birth of their national hero, Fonn Sillion. 1,000 years before, he had gathered the Quieris peoples together to revolt against the Feigh. The Feigh, descendants of the evil Ferienne Fairies, were always trying to dissolve the Quieris.
The dispute had started with Ferienne the Night and Quierun-Ieris, called "the Dawn" by her people, so great was her beauty. Ferienne, Queen of the Feigh Fairies, had so trusted in her dark splendor as to seduce the men of the Almerior clan. Tall she was and dark of features, but she possessed an attraction as deadly as the venom of a serpent. Once a man was ensnared by Ferienne, even once his eyes no longer lighted when gazing upon her face, his mind could not forget the power she had once held over him. Once she had seduced a warrior, she would then tell all of the military secrets that he revealed to her listening ears to her husband Sufurion, the Fairy King, who would in turn tell his men so they could defeat the Almeriors. In light of the fleeting power of her attractions, however, the nefarious queen always feared women of greater beauty than she, and used every means that she possessed to dispose of them.
One noble Almerior, however, resisted the power of Ferienne. Her name was Quierun-Ieris, called the Lady of the Afforest by her people, for she had been but a humble forest-dweller before her beauty had made a slave of Gonquin, the king of the Almeriors. During a hunting excursion through Down Bywynne one autumn evening, the king had become separated from his party. He had remembered that an estate belonging to one of the nobility was in this part of the wood, and he had made his way towards it with as much speed as he could force his horse to muster. It was then, as his wearily faltering stallion had stumbled through the underbrush, that the king had first laid eyes upon Quierun-Ieris. He could not see her face at the first, for she was kneeling near the house with her back to him, but he could tell that the body hidden by the lapis-hued robe was one of arresting beauty. As he had watched, he had observed that she had swayed and trembled slightly, as if with fright or sorrow. Gonquin had tethered his fatigued mount and walked quietly up to the maiden, treading softly lest his footsteps startle her and put her to flight.
His foot had been caught by a branch, however, and the pride of the Almerior clan fell heavily to the ground, uttering a less than noble exclamation as his feet flew from under him. The maiden had started up when she heard the noise, and as she turned, Gonquin was finally able to glimpse her face. Loveliness of features accompanied coloring so fair it resembled the polished smoothness of unveined marble, although it was obvious by the look of her face that the damsel had been weeping. Her now-flushed cheeks were surmounted by flashing sea-green eyes, which contrasted with the long, copper-colored tresses that fell far past her slender waist. As the king had lain thus as the maiden's feet, he knew in his heart that he had never before seen so fair a woman, and never again would he.
"Who are you?" she had questioned breathlessly, in a voice like the whispering of a summer wind.
"I shall tell you who I am only after I know your name, My Lady," he had replied, hastily rising to his feet as he spoke.
"I am called Quierun, Milord… and why do you call me a Lady?" she laughed bitterly at this. "I am nothing but a slave in this house."
"Is that why you weep?" The girl had hastily brushed at her face.
"No….well, in a way." She had moved closer to him, and Gonquin had fought a rising urge to take her into his arms and comfort her. "I have been enslaved to lord Druskin since my birth, as was my mother before me. Now that I am grown to womanhood…" she had shuddered violently as she spoke, and a deep flush had overspread the pallor of her countenance. "Now that I am grown to womanhood, he is forcing me to choose between two deaths—either give myself to him in the manner of a slave girl, or be tormented to death in ways so cruel..." the young woman had not been able to finish. Gonquin had burned in fury against the evil noble of his realm, and secretly plotted to have him stripped of his titles and his lands at the first opportunity.
"I think then that I can be of some service to you, Lady. I am Gonquin, king of the Almeriors…" a light like the shining of the dawning sun upon the shores of the sea had shone in the maiden's face.
"Then will you speak for me?"
"I shall do better than that—you shall come away with me!" The girl had been puzzled.
"Away with you?" Gonquin had taken her in his arms then, and his senses had reeled with pleasure at the intoxicating power of her beauty.
"Yes. I shall set you free from servitude, and you shall be my queen!" The young woman had trembled in his arms.
"But I am only a slave, Milord!" The king had released her, and taking one her small hands, kissed it reverently.
"None will ever know. I know that you cannot claim to love me as of yet, for we do not know one another. But I am unwed, much to the dismay of my council, I may add, and you are indeed the fairest of women and would make a queen worthy of the greatest king in Korant."
At that moment, a voice was heard calling the maiden to him—the voice of the lord Druskin. Wordlessly, Quierun beseeched Gonquin for aid with her eyes. As the calling voice grew in fury, the two raced towards the king's steed, mounted quickly, and raced away from the site of the maiden's impending doom, whilst her laugh of triumph rang clearly behind them as the voices of a thousand bells. Quierun's great beauty and humble sweetness of nature made her many fast allies, and it was not long before she was made the beloved queen of the Almeriors. It was on the day of her coronation and their nuptials that Gonquin affixed the surname "Ieris" to her name, which signified "fair as the snows"…for it was glory of the first-fallen snow that the her marbeline beauty had brought to his mind when first he laid eyes upon her countenance.
On the aforementioned occasion, the queen and her husband were celebrating an anniversary of their first meeting by hosting an extravagant hunting party for their clan. Quierun-Ieris never had looked so fair, for clad in summer's green was she, her shining auburn locks as lustrous as the gold of the autumn leaves. A coronet of the purest gold encircled her perfect head; a crown of breathtaking beauty, wrought in the shape of fair beasts that the Almeriors prized for hunting. A gleaming star hung upon her breast by a silver chain, for in those days, the mightiest of the Almeriors would take to themselves a small star from the heavens of Korant by their arts, tame it, and use its power to enhance their own. This unique power the Feigh could not duplicate; thus they contented themselves with murdering their enemies and taking their gems. After the demise of their original owners, however, the stars would dim, then their magical light would completely fade, so the act of murder did not avail the Feigh people in the end. The loathsome fairies would keep the flameless gems only as trophies; tokens of how many of the great Almeriors they had vanquished.
Lady Quierun-Ieris sang as she traveled, her voice floating on the wind, making even the birds pause in their singing to listen. The sound of her song was carried to Ferienne in her castle, for the jealousy of the dark queen enabled her to hear all things fair, in order to discern if they were lovelier than she. The covetous Queen had to know who had such power in her voice. Before, it was only she who sang a song that could still the birds; however, it was in fear, not wonder. She, being fairy-kind, changed herself into a bird and flew towards the bewitching sound.
She stopped when she came to the small traveling group, composed of the king and queen and their attendants. Lady Quierun-Ieris had a veil over her face that fluttered with her breath as she sang. Ferienne was furious that she could not see the songstress. She had some notion that the Almerior underneath the veil was lovelier by far than herself.
Changing herself to a harsh wind, Ferienne blew loose the veil from Quierun-Ieris' face.
She shrieked with rage at what she saw. Never had she seen such perfect, uncontested beauty. With that one fatal glance, she knew that she no longer ruled the world as the loveliest. The evil Ferienne had but one thought in her head: the Lady Quierun-Ieris must die.
That night, a handsome young man rode into the forest, unaccompanied, and swordless. Gonquin gladly welcomed the young man into their traveling party, and he won the admiration of all who met him with his pleasant demeanor. That night, as the lord of the Wood and his attendants slept, the young man, a lover of the evil Queen Ferienne, carried Quierun-Ieris off to his mistress.
The Queen had been delighted to have Quierun-Ieris in her power, for now she knew she could destroy a beauty greater than herself. She congratulated herself by throwing a large banquet to celebrate the capture of her enemy. Her pride, however, was her undoing.
Everyone went to the banquet; even the jailors of Quierun-Ieris. As the young Almerior lay in her cell, frightened, and nearly in despair, she remembered her gift of song. To lift her spirits, she began to sing in the language of her people.
"Mulia, morasen nonye
Can soven nanya
Lu, besno asaris"
To her great wonder, the chains about her wrists began to melt away! She continued to sing, watching as the chains on her body disappeared.
"Ulienne Misca lana
Cheresana cusneyen"
At the last verse, the prison wall dissolved, revealing the dark of a starless eve. The power of the Dark Ferienne the Night had no power over Quierun-Ieris, the Light of Dawn. Quierun-Ieris was able to escape, for her purity and goodness defeated Ferienne's evil. Ferienne, furious when she heard the news, vowed vengeance on Quierun-Ieris' family forever.
Although Quierun-Ieris and all who had lived at that time finally perished, Ferienne, and her lord Sufurion, King of the Feigh Fairies, could not die. Fed upon the bread of cruelty and nursed upon the wine of hate, their vile lives stretched for thousands of years. Ferienne's once great beauty withered and perished, and she became filled with murderous rage.
It was then, when the last flame of her beauty flickered and went out, that she cursed Quierun-Ieris and all of her descendants, and bound all of her people with an oath: until her children were routed out and destroyed, her people should have no rest. The Feigh gleefully accepted the oath, for they had no small hate for the fair race. Many were the times of old when the two factions had warred before; and always the Almeriors had vanquished their foes. Now however, the vile fairies reasoned with bitter glee, the Almeriors themselves would be the ones to be prostrate with grief over the loss of their kin.
Ferienne, aided by Sufurion, spent many long hours in planning attacks upon the unsuspecting Almeriors, and training hideous armies in all manners of cruel and unjust warfare. The descendants of Lady Quierun-Ieris learned to fear the open plains of Korant, for the Feigh detested fighting among trees, where their clumsy feet became easily entangled. Therefore, the Almeriors made their dwelling in Down Bywynne, the most beautiful portion of the greatest forest upon the surface of Korant.
The Almeriors renamed their clan after their Lady, bearing her name forever. The Feigh held true to the vow of their Lady, and persecuted the Quieris people. The wars were made bitterer by the fact that both the Feigh and the Quieris spoke the same tongue, being of a common ancient descendant. Intercepting vital messages was made all the more common, and the losses to both sides were monumental.
Then, Fonn Sillion was born, at the time when the need of his people was greater than it had ever been before—when the Feigh were pressing in towards Down Bywynne from all sides. Tall he was, and fair, with a strength of will unmatched by any of that era. When he was but scarce come to manhood, his lover, Miarielle, was slain brutally by a band of marauding Feigh. Without thought for his own safety, Fonn took up the sword of his father and smote down the small group of enemies. With an anger fearsome to behold, he vowed vengeance against the Feigh for the remainder of his days.
With the recklessness that had become his mark, he raised a small but fierce rebel army against the mighty Feigh, and to the wonder of all… defeated them and gained a respite for the Quieris people. Sufurion and Ferienne retreated within their realm, unwilling to sacrifice so many soldiers while yet Fonn lived, for the madness of his wrath was greater even than the magic that the evil king and queen could wield.
But they did not forget, nor did they forgive…
This was what Alethiel and her companions had been celebrating. The birth of Fonn was, to them, a joyous occasion. They had not seen a Feigh for many years now, and their land was at peace. Every year, there was a festival to commemorate his birth.
This year, the maiden had eagerly thrust herself into the dancing and competitions, joyfully celebrating her first year as a mature member of the Quieris people. At seventeen, the young damsel was just entering the wonder and heartache of adulthood.
There was luscious food in abundance all about the Square, which was festooned with glistening loops of silken ribbon and mesmerizing fresh flowers, whose scented sweetness permeated the air of Down Bywynne with a heavy, mind-numbing beauty of aroma. There were young men with strong bodies and handsome faces, and young women fair indeed to behold, garbed in glimmering raiment that shone in the dying sun as brightly as brilliantly hewn jewels.
Yet though the loveliness of each woman was great, not one of them could begin to compare with Alethiel. Her beauty shone more brightly than the brightest of the lanterns, was sweeter and more fair than all of the fresh woodland flowers, and was more seducing to behold than all of the winking stars that slowly blinked their fierce magnificence in the darkening sky.
The girl had been dancing about the square of Down Bywynne, overlooking the slights from invidious maidens and advances from amorous admirers, when her close friend Ferac had sidled up to her. "Do you see that stranger standing near the lanterns, Alethiel?" he had whispered. "He can not take his eyes from you!"
The wench turned and looked at the person in question. He was tall, and swathed in a long black cloak that completely covered his frame. Glittering eyes gazed unflinchingly out at the celebration from beneath the hood that concealed the rest of his face: eyes that spoke of years of pain and sorrow.
Alethiel started towards him, but Ferac held her back. "He is up to no good, I'll warrant," he hissed, "all hidden like that. Look into his eyes, Alethiel; see the malice there!" It was at that moment that the inquisitive gaze of the young maiden met that of the mysterious onlooker. His emerald-hued eyes widened in disbelief as they focused on her fair face, flushed with excitement and the exertion of the celebration. He blinked once, twice, three times, as if not believing that which he beheld-then a look of pain and near madness filled them. He turned away from her, and it seemed to the girl that she could see the body beneath the black cloak writhing in the bitterest of agony. The girl turned once more to Ferac and shook her head.
"I saw no malice, Ferac," she murmured, "only anguish!" The lad shook his head in slight irritation.
"Forget him Alethiel. Come dance with me! The night is young, and it is for such as us!" The wench hearkened to her friend's persuasive words, and followed him into the ring of dancers, striving furtively to erase the memory of the young man and his cheerless eyes.
As she began to dance with Ferac, the maid found herself forgetting all but the pattern her dainty feet were skillfully weaving. All year long, Alethiel longed earnestly for this time of year. Though not from a wealthy family, she was renowned as the most beautiful Quieris since the time of the Ancient Almeriors. It was even whispered by the Old Folk that she surpassed even Quierun-Ieris herself.
Alethiel, however, did not care greatly about her beauty. "All I want is adventure, Mother," she would sigh, resting her chin in her hand. "To go somewhere, to do something great, something that others would remember me by."
"Nonsense," her mother would reply shortly, "you will get married and have many children. That in itself is one of the greatest adventures in life."
Wilonwyn was a slender, graceful woman of petite build, with thick, gray-tinged golden hair falling past her shoulders. Her face was now lined with the many years of toil for herself and for her lone daughter, although her sapphire eyes still shone as brightly as when she had been a young woman. Although she had been beautiful in her own right, those who observed the mother and daughter saw at a glance that the child resembled her mother not at all. While the beauty of Alethiel shone as brightly as a thousand stars, the tired loveliness of her mother appeared in contrast as the waning moon.
Alethiel knew that her mother was right; she should get married. But she had no intention of doing so at the present.
She took the path for no particular reason. It was late after the Festival, and she only wished to use a short cut to get home as soon as she could. She worried after her mother when she was left alone in the cabin. Fierce bandits and outlaws had been known to attack unsuspecting homes at times…especially those close to the forest. The home of Wilonwyn and Alethiel was the farthest from the Great Square, and was hardly discernable through the dense foliage of the woods.
Although the maiden was slightly uneasy regarding passing the house of the mysterious ancient, she forced herself to think of her mother…all alone…in the hut...and of the rumors she had heard regarding a pestilent force moving rapidly through the forest. "They are only ridiculous stories about a pitiable old man," she thought to herself. "No harm can come to me!" So, tossing caution to the wind, she crossed in front of the old man's house.
At first, Alethiel noticed nothing stranger than a dense fog swirling across the path. The maiden looked about her and shuddered slightly, eager to pass by the mysterious dwelling. As she came parallel to the door of the hut, she felt the dancing shoe upon her foot come unlaced. Fearing that it would slip off completely and she would be without it if the need to flee arose; Alethiel stooped to quickly lace her shoe, then stopped. Something was not right. She tried to stand up, but found that she could not. Her feet and wrists were rooted to the ground. She tried to call out for help, but the wind snatched away her words. As she opened her mouth to scream again, a great black shape loomed up in front of her. She fell senseless to the ground.
When Alethiel awoke, she found that she was in a small hut with a thatched roof. Looking around her, she saw that the furnishings were very modest, but clean. She tried to raise herself on her arm, but sank back against the pillows, crying out in pain. It felt as if her arms had been struck until they were black and blue. Looking at them however, she saw that they were perfectly fine. "How can this be?" she murmured.
At that moment, a young man entered the room. The maiden watched him covertly as he approached her, and noticed his giant muscles rippling with every step he took. He appeared to be close to her age, although the look in his dark eyes seemed to add many years to the youth of his face. Alethiel looked down at herself then, and discovered to her dismay that she only wore her linen shift. Clutching the sheet around her, she glared at the man. "Where are my clothes?" she demanded, willing her voice not to sound frightened.
"You will have no need of your old clothes where you are going," he replied. He gently lifted Alethiel from the bed on which she was lying. She was too sore to fight him at all; she could only clutch the bedclothes around her slender frame.
The boy carried her to a different room, and set her on a large bed. "What is this place?" Alethiel asked, marveling. She had thought that they were in the old man's cottage, but this was a different place entirely. The walls changed to every color of the rainbow as she looked around her. The bed on which she sat had a marble base and was covered with silken bedclothes. The room had no windows, yet thought the walls it seemed to her that she could just see the autumn leaves drifting from their stems in the grounds outside. "This room is fit for a queen," she whispered.
"That is why you are in it," the boy replied. Alethiel was startled.
"I am no queen," she told him. "You have the wrong woman. I am Alethiel, daughter of Filliac Fornwyn, a..." For the first time in her life, the maiden felt ashamed of her station. The young man before her certainly looked to be very noble indeed, and she sensed that he was very proud. Casting her gaze upon the floor, she whispered, "I am but a peasant." The wench raised her head slowly, to see the dignified lad's reaction. He grinned. Alethiel's own pride blazed ardently within her, and she gave the lad a look of supreme indifference. The impertinent boy was definitely treading on her patience.
"Whoever you think is your father, just keep that notion to yourself. He will not like it."
"Who is he?" asked Alethiel, looking about the room, expecting to see him watching them.
"You will see," the boy replied. He started to walk out of the room, when he turned back to Alethiel and pointed to a dark green garment residing on a chair near the window. "You are to put that on," he said, then before Alethiel could ask any questions, he had disappeared.
She crossed to the window and picked up the garment. At first glance it was dark green, but when it caught the sun, it turned into what looked like pure silver and gold. It had a swooping neckline and pointed bodice which laced up the front with diamond-studded golden threads. "This is much too fine for me," she muttered, slipping it over her head.
The skirt of the gown fell in long soft folds to the ground. Alethiel was self-conscious as she looked into the mirror; she had never worn a gown that bared so much of her skin before. As the turned, she caught sight of a beautiful golden circlet lying on the pillow of the great marble bed. Picking it up, she could see that the metal was woven into delicate shapes of animals, flowers, birds, and other creatures that she had never before seen. Placing it on her head, she turned to look at her reflection in the mirror.
What she saw made her gasp. Though lovely before, she now so surpassed anyone ever formed (though she did not know it), as to leave the fabled beauties of all ages far behind. Her auburn curls streamed down her back like rivulets, catching the sun and gleaming golden. Her fair, white skin shone in contrast with the dark material. Her hair curled winningly across her ivory chest, now throbbing with wonder and… yes, yes it was fear. Who, she wondered, would care enough to do this for me?
Alethiel heard a gasp behind her, and turned. An old man was standing there, a man so wondrous in appearance that Alethiel could not stop gazing at him. His hair was whiter than the first unblemished snows, and he was tall, taller than the maiden, although it seemed to her that he was slightly stooped with age. His blue robes set off the light kindling within his black-browed sapphire eyes to such a degree, Alethiel had to look away. He seemed to have the wisdom of five thousand years in his stare, the youth of twenty. He seemed to know many secrets, dark and light, good and evil. He was altogether fascinating to her.
"Can you sing child?" he asked her, still not taking his eyes off her face.
"A little," Alethiel admitted, wondering what her ability could have to do with the present circumstances. As she tried desperately to recall any song to her mind, one simple melody seemed to take shape before all the others. It was one that no soul had taught her; she herself had thought of it as she sat gazing upon the distant sunrise one early morning, long ago. Though it seemed simple and juvenile to her now, something within her prompted her to sing it to the old man.
Alethiel sang, at first faltering, then gathering strength.
"When the sky burns
With the light of the dawn
Then there will be peace,"
She sang in the modern language of her people, her high voice clear as the crystal streams.
"Terror shall cease
Night shall reign no more!"
When she stopped, she ventured to look up at the old man. She had sung the song with her eyes riveted to the ground, picturing horror at her inadequacy on his face. What she saw was quite different.
His azure eyes burned with a sapphire-like flame, their startling hue akin to a bolt of cobalt-colored summer lightning. His mouth was opened; she realized that he was gasping for breath. "Do you know what you just sang?" he asked her. Alethiel shook her head, ashamed. "Your song was in the language of the Quieris," he continued. "Let me sing it for you in the language of the Almeriors, your ancient ancestors."
"But there must be some mistake, Milord," she murmured, somewhat hesitantly. "I myself wrote the song, and composed the melody. I have sung it for none save you before!" The wise man shook his head.
"You believed the song to be of your own making, My Child. What you experienced upon the hillside that morn, as you watched the sun rise above the hill, was not a moment of musical genius…" he paused, and seemed to be waiting for Alethiel to deny him. The wench was amazed. Who was this man, who knew so much about her? When she did not contradict his former statements, the wise one said mysteriously, "It was a transfer of power! From the body of a living flame to the heart of a pure, beautiful young maiden, the song, ancient in origin, flowed into your spirit, albeit in your modern tongue." With wide eyes, Alethiel requested him to fulfill his promise, and sing the melody in the ancient dialect. He began to sing, his deep, ancient voice making the walls resonate with its sound.
"Mulia, morasen nonye
Can soven nanya asaris
Ulienne, Misca lana
Cheresana cusneyen."
The song captivated Alethiel. The melody was the same, but the words were so different. They had a power and beauty in them that the modern way of the song lacked. The man was still looking at her.
"What did you think?" he asked.
"It was the loveliest thing that I have ever heard," she admitted.
The man crossed the threshold and approached her. His long robes caught the light and glimmered as he moved. He had a beard long as that of an erudite sage, white as the first unblemished snows. He took her hands in his own. Youth and beauty stood hand in hand with wisdom and age, and their eyes met. The power of the old man's eyes held Alethiel.
"You are she," he said softly, releasing one of Alethiel's hands and stroking her hair. "You are the one for whom I have searched." Alethiel was startled. She tried to pull her hands out of the man's grasp.
"I do not know what you mean, sir," she whispered. "I am only a poor peasant, the daughter of Filliac Fornwyn…" Alethiel had remembered the young man's warning too late. The man dropped her hands. His face grew livid with rage.
"Never, Never, NEVER speak that name in my presence!" he roared. Alethiel shrank back against the bed, suddenly terrified of this old man and his wrath. He strode to the other end of the room and took an object off of the mantel. He held it out to her as he neared her again, and she moved away from him. The man sighed. "Forgive me. I am not angry with you. But you must remember never to let me hear you say that name again." When Alethiel did not move, he commanded, "Hold out your hand."
Though frightened, she did as she was told. The old man placed an object into her hand, something that was cool, yet at the same time, surprisingly warm. The girl was aware of a strange, prickling sensation coming over her as it touched her bare skin. She also could perceive the old man moving away from her ever so slightly. She peered at it curiously.
What Alethiel held was a necklace of exquisite beauty. Diamonds and crystals were gently wrought into the silver in the shape of a star. A circle surrounded this star, also studded with the lustrous gems. It was the most beautiful jewel that Alethiel had seen in her life. "What is it?" she asked.
"The star of Luriel-Haranas. The star that was worn by Quierun-Ieris the Bright." The old man replied, gazing at it as well.
"It is perfect," Alethiel breathed, enchanted.
The man smiled at her wonder. "I am glad that you think so," he said. "The necklace belongs to you!"
"For me?" Alethiel asked unbelievingly. "This is far too fine for me," she murmured.
The old man shook his head. "You are she of the superior beauty and talent for whom I have searched. You do not know of it yet, but you are not who you think that you are. You are not Alethiel the peasant maiden!"
Alethiel was stunned. "Then I know not who I am, my lord. Will you tell me?"
The old man smiled and shook his head again. "That you must discover for yourself. In time, my child, you will rise to be who are meant to be, despite those that seek to hinder you."
The old man insisted that Alethiel stay the night in the strange room. She tried to resist, saying that her mother would be greatly worried. A wistful look crossed the man's face, and he murmured, "She will never worry again."
Alethiel wondered what he could mean by this, but he refused to say. He left her, quite alone in the marvelous room.
She looked about her again. As night approached, the room took on a different appearance. The rainbow walls turned silver as shafts of moonlight, and they merged in rays that focused on the marble bed. Alethiel suddenly feared to lie upon it. What was this place truly, a mysterious vault into which she had been lured, only to be destroyed? Or was it a place of goodly beauty, a place where she might feel secure?
As she pondered, the same young man of earlier entered the room again, bearing a tray of steaming food, and a pile of white gauze. When she looked at him strangely, he put the tray on the table, and handed the gauze to her with a flourish. "What are you doing?" she asked him scathingly. He grinned at her.
"After you eat, you are to put this on and go to bed," he replied simply. Alethiel inspected the garment. It was more revealing even then the green gown; she could see her hand through the material.
"I shall not wear this!" she cried out, in a rage. "Are you men here to make sport of me? I will not appear half-naked before you or the old man!"
The boy smirked in his irritating way. "We never said you had to. All that he asks is that you put it on." He turned to leave. "Good night." Alethiel caught him by his sleeve.
"Wait!" she implored him. "Who are you? What is your name?" The boy did not smile as he answered her.
"I am called Makairn. I do not know my real name, nor from where I have come." Alethiel looked at him strangely.
"Have you never thought to ask, Makairn?" she queried. The lad's face darkened as he answered her.
"I do not wish to know, Milady. Though I am but the least of the inhabitants of Down Bywynne, I have a premonition that in some other dark, terrible place, I am truly the greatest of the great."
When the boy Makairn saw that Alethiel was thoroughly perplexed, and that she asked him nothing more, he gently pulled her hand from his sleeve and left the room.
Alethiel was puzzled. Who was this strange young man, and why was he here? What troubled her more was the thought, why does he seem so familiar?
She approached the tray of food and inhaled the luscious aroma. She had eaten nothing since the Sillion Festival, which now felt like part of a different world. She tasted the rich food. It was some kind of meat that she had never tasted before. The rest of the dishes were equally as exotic and wonderful, and before she knew it, all of the food was gone.
She sighed, feeling comfortable and contented. That was the most that she had ever eaten at one time in her whole life, yet she did not feel completely full. What miraculous place was this, where all the food in the word would not fill you, and all the drink in the world would not completely quench your thirst?
Alethiel stepped out of the wondrous green gown and into the gauzy nightdress. Looking at herself in the full-length mirror, she was surprised to see that her body could not be seen through the sheer fabric of the gown. It too sparkled like all the other garments as it caught the light.
Alethiel approached the bed again cautiously. She put her hand on the bedclothes; they were quite cool. Carefully, she eased herself onto the divan. She was surprised with what rapidity it warmed to her body, and how comfortable it was.
When Alethiel woke the next morning, she was delighted to see that a very simple jerkin of forest green, accompanied by leggings of a slightly darker hue, was draped across the chair. She slipped the jerkin over her head, careful not to tear the fine fabric of the nightdress as she removed it.
Once dressed, she walked to the door, then stopped. Now, here was a problem. She did not know in what chamber she was. It appeared to be richer that the other ones, if the room in which she had first discovered herself was any indicator. The walls were magical; she saw for the first time in the morning light that you could see the world outside through them. The world from this magical chamber was many times more beautiful than the world from her window at home. Alethiel sat down on the bed again and stared out the window.
The trees were waving their blushing autumn finery, their limbs swaying in a beautiful dance, accompanied only by the wind. The birds chirped sweetly, singing in harmony with the glorious nature outside. As Alethiel watched, Makairn, the boy from the night before, walked across the emerald carpeting, now dotted with gold, and approached a tree. Without any warning, he swung himself into its branches with an easy confidence that annoyed Alethiel afresh.
She jumped up from her bed an approached the wall. "Makairn!" she called. He did not stop to look. "Makairn!" she repeated, this time thoroughly vexed. He still did not so much as turn his head.
"He cannot hear you."
Alethiel whirled around at the sound of the voice, and saw the old man standing there. "I do not understand," she murmured. He crossed the room and stood by her side as he spoke.
"To you and to me, this wall is invisible. If I were outside at this moment, I could hear you, and you could see me. To those who are not of the Quieris people, however, such as Makairn, this wall is as stone." The maiden was surprised. Though Makairn did not look like her kin, Alethiel had naturally assumed that he was. The young girl had known no other clans in her life before, having been brought up solely in Down Bywynne. Though she knew that she herself and her mother were both indeed Quieris, her mother had been strangely secretive about the kin of her father, a handsome man whose likeness the older woman wore on a medallion about her neck.
With a start, Alethiel realized who Makairn had reminded her so strongly of the night before. The lad bore an undeniable resemblance to Alethiel's own sire, the great Filliac Fornwyn himself! A great desire to learn of Makairn's true identity filled the girl, and she turned towards the old man beside her.
"Sir," she said breathlessly, "I know full well that you do not wish me to mention my father's name in your presence…" The man's eyes narrowed, and his face darkened. Alethiel clasped her hands, and looked earnestly at the old man before her. "I beg your pardon a thousand times over, Milord, for mentioning the subject once again. However, I noticed the resemblance between Makairn and my father, and I was hoping that perhaps you could tell me of Makairn's true identity!" The old man shook his head.
"That is not for me to say, Alethiel; if Makairn wishes you to know, then he alone shall tell you. Your destiny and his have led you on separate paths thus far, that I know. My foresight is not what it was formerly; yet I seem to see your courses mingling in the future." Alethiel's questions of the day before concerning her true identity came back to haunt her.
"My lord," she said, dropping her eyes to the ground, "You said last evening that I would have to discover who I was for myself. How will I do that?" The man smiled at her eagerness and took her hand.
"Come and eat, and I will tell you!"
At breakfast, Alethiel saw that she had been wrong about the great house. It was no little thatched roof cottage, as it had appeared to be from the outside; it was a Palace of Wonders. The great dining hall was equally as magnificent as the bedroom, but in entirely different ways.
As she sat marveling at the magnificence of the place, Alethiel remembered the old man's promise to tell her how to discover her name. "My lord," she started respectfully, fiddling with the napkin at her place, "My lord, I have no more notion now of how to find out who I truly am then I did last night!" The man smiled. Suddenly, a silken tapestry unfurled itself from the ceiling and dropped nearly to the floor. The girl gasped at the brilliant beauty of the delicate embroidery that covered the piece of art.
As she stared, however, she caught her breath in surprise. The figures on the tapestry were actually moving! She watched in wonder as the gorgeously woven characters danced together around a ribbon-bedecked tree. She saw a cluster of the men figures gather around a woman, a perfectly beautiful woman, woven out of the brightest golden threads. Real emeralds were her eyes, rubies were her lips, amethysts her gown.
While she watched, the scene suddenly changed to show the same woman on a moonlit, fog-swirled moorland, alone, and without any of the gallant men that had earlier surrounded her. The girl dropped to tie a shoe, fainted, and was carried into a hovel by a large bear. As the two entered the hut, the woman's outer clothes melted away and the bear turned into a strong, dark young man.
Alethiel cried out. "It is I!" she breathed in wonder, "Oh, oh, it is I that this wondrous tapestry is showing!" Now, the scenes changed again to show a swarm of livid, hideous creatures, woven in vivid browns and greens, attacking a little village. To Alethiel's surprise, the tapestry came even more alive. The girl could now hear the screams of terror of those besieged.
A particularly large demon-creature entered a modest little house situated by the river. Alethiel panted softly in her fear, for she knew that the house was her own. She saw a lone woman race from the house. She saw something hurtle through the air and strike the woman in the back. The woman fell…
"Stop!" Alethiel had risen from her seat at the table, and her beautiful face was white as alabaster with rage and terror. Her large eyes were dilated and glassy, and tears threatened to spill over their rims. The old man sighed deeply, waved his hand, and the tapestry again furled itself and rolled to a hidden place in the ceiling.
"I am so sorry, my dear girl, that you had to see this," he said. He got up and gently forced her to sit down. "But you must know why you were not allowed to return to your home last night. I told you that your mother would worry about you no longer, and now…now you see why."
"Could you not have stopped it?"
"My dear young woman, I am a wizard, yes, but I am not equal to that horde. It was sent out by a co-alliance of the two greatest sorcerers in the world. One, possibly I could have taken and defeated." The man sighed sadly, and suddenly looked very tired and aged. "But neither I nor my magic are what they used to be."
"Why can you not simply tell me who I am, and what I can do?" Alethiel burst out passionately. "I cannot sit here and watch those; those, those things murder my family!"
"That is why you must go on your quest soon, Alethiel. This very week! If I simply told you, you would not have the experience needed to accomplish your role in life!'
"What role in life?"
"That also I cannot say as of yet. You will discover who were meant to be only when you discover who you are." The old man sat back in his chair. "But I can tell you this: it is beyond your wildest dreams."
Alethiel sighed sadly. "Then it must be." The wizard nodded, and then suddenly said, "You would do well to dry your eyes and eat, child. Your journey is long, and it starts within a few days."
He clapped his hands three times, and Makairn entered, bearing dishes filled with more wonderful and exotic foods. As he placed a plate in front of her, Alethiel said with a note of scorn in her voice, "So, this boy is a servant, my lord?" With an almost inexplicable satisfaction, she felt Makairn stiffen beside her. He did not look at her, but his strong hands balled into massive fists and his dark eyes stared at the wall before him as if he wished to set it ablaze—such was the intensity of his gaze.
"I am no servant, Lady, though I may not be as fine as are you. I am the apprentice of Haradras, and I serve him to repay him for his kindness." Alethiel felt somewhat confused.
"Who is Haradras?" she asked. Makairn grinned playfully at her ignorance.
"Lady, the great man in whose house you slept, whose clothes you wore, at whose table you now eat, the man who is sitting now across from you, is the mighty Haradras." Alethiel's mouth dropped open.
"Forgive me, my lord, you did not tell me your name!" she whispered. Makairn laughed at her and playfully chucked her under the chin. Or at least, that was what he endeavored to do. Alethiel had had to be wary, being a beautiful peasant with no one to guard her honor. She had learned a thing or two with all of the young village men vying for her affections. As he moved towards her, a small silver knife flashed out of her belt and lightly nicked his hand.
She smiled smugly as Makairn drew back in surprise, clutching his wounded hand. Haradras smiled too, but warned Alethiel against the use of such rash behavior in the future. "There are those that would not be as gracious as Makairn," he said seriously. "They would try again, and they would succeed."
Later in the day, Haradras entered Alethiel's room. He walked quickly, as if worried, and clutched a small cloth sack. Shoving the latter into her arms, he whispered, "I had intended to wait for all of this at least a week. However, the enemy is moving so very rapidly, I dare not wait."
Alethiel looked down at the sack, saw that it contained bread and a skin of water, and clutched it to her chest. "What do you mean, my lord?" she said quietly.
"You saw the massacre of Down Bywynne on my tapestry." The girl nodded, and her lower lip almost imperceptibly trembled. "Quite soon, the demon horde will be on your trail. They were ordered not to leave even one Quieris alive." He leaned so close to her, Alethiel could smell the rich fragrance emanating from his robes. "I do not wish to frighten you, but it is you that they are especially searching for." In response to her look of shock, the man shook his head sadly. "I cannot protect you against so many. My home is safe, yes, but that is only because I can make myself invisible with magic, as can Makairn. Alethiel—you I cannot shield. You must leave my house immediately and travel as quickly and as quietly as you can through the densest parts of the forest."
"But where do I go?" A sharp sense of foreboding was very quickly replacing Alethiel's sense of calm. Haradras gazed out of the hut, as if attempting to descry the enemy army advancing upon them even as they spoke.
"All will become clear to you as you journey on. You have a great destiny, Alethiel, a wonderful and powerful destiny. It shall not be revealed to you all at once, this much I know—it will all become clear to you in time. But now…" the wizard seemed to grow more and more agitated as he moved about the room, handing necessities to the young woman. "…Now…you must go. I tell you only this: travel as far from down Bywynne as you possibly can. If you are silent and travel quickly, it is possible that you may escape the enemy."
He walked to the mantelpiece and removed Luriel-Haranas from its hiding place. "I do not doubt that you are confused," he said. Crossing to where she stood, he put his hand under her chin and tilted her head up. The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. "But I know that you will conquer. You shall find out who you were meant to be, and you shall thrive." He kissed her forehead, then released her. Taking her arm, he led her out of the door.
"Take care to stay out of sight, Alethiel," he warned as he opened the door. "Never, upon any account, leave the protection of the trees." Then, turning her to face him, he handed her a small packet. Opening it, Alethiel discovered the star of Luriel-Haranas tucked inside. She looked up at Haradras with a frown on her face. "Do you really want me to have this, my lord?" she asked. The old man closed her fingers over the gift and nodded his head. "Never, ever part with this jewel," he whispered. "It has more power than you realize."
Alethiel embraced the old man. "You have been so kind to me," she said, smiling. "Why? What have I ever done for you?" Haradras did not smile back, but looked out wistfully over the top of her head.
"I will tell you only that I once was asked for aid for a very great and noble cause, and I refused. As a result, the honorable personage who requested assistance was vanquished, and my own power was diminished. With you, I have made things right. Though you did not come to me for succor, I gave all that I had, and I will continue to exert what powers I have left until the end." As Alethiel watched, his face seemed to change. Lines seemed to disappear around his ancient face; the silver in his once-golden hair seemed to fade. He looked down at her, and finally returned her smile.
"I am at peace!"
so...what do you think? i would really love some feedback!
