Balen awoke with a start. He turned to see his mother lying peacefully at his side, which calmed him. She had found her way back to their room without Sal or another needing to fetch him. No hysterics, no commotion – Balen wanted nothing to do with either. Perhaps she cried out for Balen when she awoke in Lord Umber's unfamiliar chambers, but here she was now sleeping beside him. Balen touched her arm gently. Her eyes slowly opened, and she smiled warmly. She reached out and stroked Balen's cheek.
"I am so glad to see you are all right, Mother. I did not like leaving you down in Lord Umber's chambers." She moved closer to him, pressing herself against the length of Balen's side. He turned, and their faces were so close Balen could feel her slow and steady breathing against his lips. "I cannot tell you how sorry I am," he whispered, closing his eyes. He wrapped her arms tightly around her, pulling her tightly against him. She pressed her head into the crook his neck.
"Last night, Balen, it was like when you were a baby," she said, her voice quiet and fragile. "When I came in, you were so deeply asleep; I tried so hard not to wake you. But once I was lying next to you, I just watched you sleep. I watched every breath you took. And I put my hand right here." She lifted her hand and touched it gently against Balen's chest. "I felt every heartbeat. Do you remember when I did that every night?"
"No, Mother. I was just a baby."
"Yes, I suppose you are right." Balen felt a tear slide onto his neck, warm at first and then growing colder as it fell into the pillow.
"Mother, why are you crying?" He pressed away to see her face. Tears clung within her eyes, ready to fall.
"I miss that time. When you were just a baby. I held you all night long. Even then, you had such beautiful yellow hair. I knew you would be something wonderful, something incredible. And I was right. Look at you now." She smiled again and touched his face. Her eyes were sad, but the tears had stopped falling. "I was born to be your mother Balen. Recognizing Aurek was a gift from the High Ones. Without you, I have no reason to live."
Balen's stomach fell at her words. "Mother, do not say such things. You always think so lowly of yourself, and I do not understand why. You say, 'Oh Balen, you are so bright.' Or 'Oh Balen, you are so kind or so beautiful." Balen held her close to him again, trying to make her forget the dark thoughts that invaded her mind. "Where do you think I got all of that from?"
She did not respond, but the relaxing of her body as he held her let Balen know that things were going to be okay. He couldn't quite remember why he felt angry and unsettled towards her or anyone else. He hoped it would be longer than usual before the spiteful feelings crept back in.
The games continued that day without Balen in attendance. He insisted that his mother's servants attend to her and leave him alone. He had not forgotten about Ella's earlier, suggestive request to remain with him. And he could see the visible annoyance on her face as she turned away from him to follow behind his mother. He had resolved to never lose control of his mind or body, the way he did yesterday. Furthermore, he felt sure that he had no desire for Ella. Though he found her beautiful and sensual and he preferred her company over so many others, he felt passionless. Once his room was empty and he sat alone, Balen wondered if he would ever find any passion at all.
The day passed slowly. Balen spent a long time in the springs, enjoying the feeling of the warm water on his body. He stayed until his skin was wrinkled, which he reveled in immensely. He walked languidly back to his quarters. He could not remember the last time he was not trailed by servants. Balen decided that the first thing he would do when he became a true member of the council was to dismiss his servants, and they would tend solely to his mother. The thought crossed his mind that he could even get his own quarters, but he pushed the thought aside as soon as he thought it.
In his room, Balen retrieved the comb from the drawers in the sitting room. He looked at it for several moments. A familiar pang of anger rose up within him. He looked up at himself in the floor-length looking glass beside the dresser. He sighed and sat at the table. He combed through his hair that hung past his shoulders. He found it difficult to remove the tangles and wondered how his mother smoothed it so effortlessly. He became so frustrated at the task, that he cast the comb aside and let out an exasperated curse.
Once he was fully dressed and presentable, Balen went exploring in the council chambers. He wanted something to eat, but he could not find anything. Finally, he came across a servant who was holding a tray of food to bring to the council member's canopy at the games. Balen asked if he could partake with a few small morsels. He wished he did not have to ask for a servant's help, but Balen wasn't stubborn enough to go hungry. The servant insisted Balen take the entire tray, and before he could resist, she was gone to retrieve another. It was not until he started eating did he realize how immense his hunger had grown. First, he quickly devoured three of the swirled, soft rolls that the bakers called sweet swirls, not stopping to swallow before he took another bite. After he finished the rest of the delectable buns, he ate the remainder of the food presented on the tray, even the tarts made from speckled eggs and black mushrooms that Balen normally found revolting, but today he decided they were not. He didn't know which he enjoyed more: the eating itself or the eating without an audience.
After eating and perusing the council member's chambers, Balen returned up the stairs to his own room. In the hallway, he discovered Sal had been looking for him. Balen quickly realized that Sal was extremely relieved to have found Balen and had grown alarmed when he could not find him. In the sitting room, Sal described the first three fights of the games, which were uneventful. In the second magic-user round, Hussar had quickly defeated a plant-shaper, who stood no chance against the undefeated fire elf. The fourth fight had just commenced.
"Tundle went up against Hussar," Sal's eyes widened with excitement at the thought. Sal always spoke in large gestures, and Balen found himself urging Sal to tell him what had occurred.
"Well, wouldn't you know it, Balen. Hussar put forth a massive flame. It wasn't like anything I'd ever seen him toss out before. He wanted this Tundle thoroughly cooked." Sal paused to let the suspense sink in.
"So, what happened?" Balen sat forward in his seat, eager to hear the results.
Sal grinned and looked directly at Balen. He remained silent.
"Well?" Balen wanted to physically shake the news out from Sal's lips.
"Let me just say, I think you should prepare yourself for a new neighbor." Sal laughed and stood up. "Tundle laid that hot-headed lout flat onto his back! You should have seen it, Balen! Everyone was like this," Sal made an aghast, open-mouthed expression before he erupted into another fit of laughter. "And watching that spindly elf drag Hussar across the floor…" Sal trailed off, looking away from Balen as he pictured it again. "They should have let you see it, Balen."
Balen smiled, and thought about the possibility of Tundle taking over the rooms Hussar had lived in all of Balen's life. "Hussar is out of the games?" Balen asked, unable to believe it wholly.
"Yes!" Sal's hands became fists, and he pumped them into the air. "Now all Tundle has to do is beat one more elf." Most of the non-magic user volunteers from the games came from the stock of hunters who hunted for game for the dwellers of The Mountain. Hunters were the only elves besides the chosen protectors who learned to wield weapons from a young age.
"Who is Tundle fighting?" Balen asked, though he assumed he would not be familiar with the elf.
"Raiden," Sal said, sitting back down at the table and leaning his chair back so it tipped on its two back legs. Balen recalled his earlier encounter with Raiden, one of the chosen protectors of Lord Umber, and how he had denied Balen entry to see his mother.
"Crestamin said you and he had an argument yesterday." Balen did not want to mention why they were fighting. He did not want to remind Sal of anything that occurred yesterday as a result of his out-of-control magic.
"That mongrel had it coming," Sal said, rocking back and forth on the askew chair.
"Did he?" Balen asked, hoping Sal would divulge further details.
"Ever since Lord Umber made him a Chosen, Raiden acts like he doesn't even remember my name. That we didn't hunt together for all of those years. I can't stand it when a fancy new place at the table changes an elf." Sal sat forward, letting the legs of the chair hit noisily against the floor. "That alone earned him a hit right in nose. But, he also tried to keep me from Hilleen which just wasn't going to happen." Sal sighed and shook his head.
"I am not going to change, Sal. I have always been in the council. Lord Umber giving me at seat at the Table doesn't mean anything to me."
Sal cocked an eyebrow at Balen and did not immediately respond.
After a few moments he said, "I know it doesn't, Balen. And sometimes I wonder what does mean something to you." Balen didn't speak for a time.
"Sweet swirls. Sweet swirls mean something to me," Balen said, smiling.
Sal laughed, shaking his head. "Well, you could afford to eat a few more of those – get some meat on you. I swear, Balen, you're nothing but skin and bird bones."
Balen laughed and was grateful that the tension was eased, and he did not want to bring up Raiden or their argument again.
Sal left Balen alone once more as he watched Sal quickly descend the stairs to the great room and walk out of sight. Balen passed by Hussar's quarters and wondered what it would be like if Tundle acquired the Victor's Suite. He felt excited by the thought; not because he particularly cared for Tundle, but he liked the idea of a change in the faces he saw day in and day out in the upper tiers of The Mountain. As he continued to think about it, Balen realized he would be excited by any change at all. The sameness and familiarity of The Mountain and its dwellers made most elves believe The Mountain was a perfect paradise on the World of Two Moons. Many felt as though they were chosen to live here and, therefore, living here was a gift. Most also felt Aurek, his father, gave them the gift of The Mountain. Balen had heard the tale of how The Mountain came to be a thousand times. And though his father shaped the very foundation of The Mountain all the way up to its summit, Balen was ironically the only elf that ever lived in The Mountain without Aurek at the helm. It was difficult for Balen to not believe Aurek's abandonment of The Mountain was centered entirely on his birth.
When Sal visited Balen once more, Balen could feel the cool air against the stone of The Mountain and knew that night had fallen. Sal stumbled into the room with his mother, who seemed to be in high spirits from the games.
"Will you not lay down, Sal," his mother said, leading him to the plush couch and fluffing a pillow to place under his head. "This is what happens when you drink too much purple wine!"
"This is true, my lady," Sal slurred, the wide grin never leaving his face. He flopped heavily onto the couch. He reached out for Balen's mother and pulled her down onto the couch with him. She squealed at him but did not object as he wrapped his arms around her, pinning her to the couch with him. "Hilleen, tell him what happened!"
Balen's mother looked up at Balen and smiled, jumping up from the couch. Sal's arm fell onto the floor, and his eyes closed. He seemed to be fast asleep before Balen's mother reached him on the other side of the room.
"Oh, my sweet one, if only you could have seen it! That remarkable lad Tundle won the games! It was quite unexpected, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, quite," Balen said. He felt an excitement humming within him. He also felt perturbed that he missed the first games that ever sounded the least bit interesting.
"Apparently they allowed Hussar to sleep one more night in his quarters, but he refused and made quite a few distasteful remarks." Her forehead crinkled as she recalled the scene in her mind, and then waved her hand before her as if to wipe it from thought.
As they prepared for bed, his mother continued to describe the events of the day to him. As they curled up together atop the fur blankets, she began to talk about Aurek and the things he had told her during their short time together. Balen had heard all of this before, but he enjoyed hearing his mother talk about his father. He hoped that he would pick up some new revealing fact that would make his father's image clear to him. However, he was always left with a vague outline of a faceless elf who was very tall and could glide in the air.
The next day, the halls were quiet again with the excitement of the games already passed. The council would hold a large banquet feast this evening in honor of the victor, where all the fighters were invited. For most, this was their only meal in the presence of the council members and the only day they spent in the upper tiers of The Mountain.
Balen watched his mother as her dress for the banquet was fitted and altered. He enjoyed the tanners' company and liked to listen to them speak with his mother. As he sat on an ottoman near his mother, a jolt went through him as if he was struck by a bolt of tiny lightening.
He sat forward with a start, his breath catching in his throat. His mother looked at him, the flowing gown being sewn up her side where she stood. Balen felt the shock again – a pulse of energy he had never felt before and could not place or describe. He stood up frantically and stared wide-eyed at his mother. She stepped toward him, holding the dress close to keep it from falling.
"Balen? Balen, what is it?" She brushed his hair away from his face.
"Did you not feel that, Mother?" He did not have words to describe the feeling. Just then, he felt it again, this time stronger, and it caused his heart to beat wildly. A true sense of fear overcame him, for now he knew the feeling came not from a what, but from a who.
He stood as still as he could, waiting for the next pulse of energy to come though him. After several moments, his mother staring at him with utmost concern, Balen felt nothing.
"Is it happening again, Balen? Is it your magic?" She stroked his hand. Balen did not understand what she meant at first.
As his head began to clear, he tried to reach out with his invisible sensors, through the stone, and feel for where the great energy came from. He sifted through the countless vibrations of the dwellers within The Mountain walking on the stone floor or touching the stone walls.
"No, Mother. It is not me." He stepped away and turned his back to her. Closing his eyes, he tried again to feel the very stone all around him. He imagined himself plunging deeper into The Mountain until he felt himself at its very base. It seemed impossible to find the source of the power among the countless elves around him. With his fingers tingling with the effort as he felt the stone around him, he felt the jolt once more. This time he knew it was magic. He was feeling magic upon the stone. It was a magic he had never felt before.
"Someone is in The Mountain," Balen whispered. "Someone strange." He turned to face his mother.
"What do you mean someone is in The Mountain? Balen, I do not understand. Tell me what is wrong."
He did not respond.
"Trinke, could you bring, Sal? No, bring Lord Umber," his mother commanded, turning to her servant.
Trinke nodded and walked out of the room. Ella looked wide-eyed at Balen.
Balen waited as each agonizing moment passed. He could no longer feel any strange, intense vibrations upon the stone floor. Though a part of him was desperate to find out for himself the source of the new magic feeling, he could not bring himself to leave the confines of his room. Each elf in the room was silent, glancing with anticipation at the door. As time continued to move slowly by, Balen felt a rising anxiety within him as no one entered the room. Balen thought surely Trinke would have had enough time to find Lord Umber and return by now.
The sound of fast approaching footsteps broke the immense silence that pervaded the room. Balen's could feel the queasy sensation of his stomach falling when he heard Sal's voice.
"Hilleen! Lord Balen!" Sal was out of breath as he rushed through the doorway. He breathed in deeply, swallowing hard to catch his breath.
"Where is Lord Umber?" Hilleen stood and approached Sal. He waved her words away with his hands, continuing to breathe hard.
"No, Hilleen. You must stay in this room. I don't know who they are or what they want, but Lord Umber is speaking with them right now. Please, Hilleen, stay here where I know I can keep you safe."
Hilleen nodded slowly and sat back down. Her face had lost its color. "Have trolls found us?" She put her hand over her mouth, and Balen could see her visibly trembling with fright. "Humans?" She said the word as if she could see them before her very eyes, coming for her.
Balen shook his head. He watched his mother, but his mind raced, pondering all the possibilities. He knew as sure as his name, as sure as the air he breathed, that whoever had invaded The Mountain used magic. Powerful magic.
"Elves," Balen said. Sal looked at Balen, the surprise on his face confirming Balen's guess. "Where are they?" Balen asked.
"They were at the Great Door, but Lord Umber saw them to the assembly hall. When I was told, I came here."
Balen could not remember the last time he had descended to the assembly hall at the base of The Mountain, but he knew the way. He knew it was wrong and selfish, but Balen ran down the long staircase to the great room. He knew it was better to stay with his mother, to keep her safe and not cause her to worry. His desire to see this unknown threat with his own eyes swept away his reason. On the other side of the great room, he continued to run faster than he had ever run in his life straight through the walls of the hallways that lead to the lower tiers of The Mountain. He felt the stone effortlessly mold around him as he passed through, returning to its former shape as soon he was on the other side. He heard the alarmed gasps and inquired cries of elves as he went, but he would not stop.
He knew he was getting closer as he raced down a second long and curving staircase. His lungs began to burn for air, sweat streaking off his brow. Balen pushed these feelings aside as he began to close in on the assembly hall. It had been enough time since Sal had told him the news that Balen hoped they were still there.
Abruptly Balen stopped as he turned a final corner and was impeded by a crowd of elves that strained on the tips of their feet to get a look inside of the assembly hall. Balen looked frantically around for a way into the room but could find no crevice in the crowd with which he could squeeze through. Desperately, he ran to the wall and felt a path through the stone that would lead him into the assembly hall, bypassing the crowd. The thickness of the stone, however, caused him to hesitate. He had never passed through stone as thick as the obstacle before him. Nearby he heard one elf murmur to another, "Did you say there was a tall one? Tall as Aurek?"
Balen's heart seized to beat for a moment at the sound of his father's name. He closed his eyes and sucked in his breath silently and pushed into the thick wall. He was afraid to open his eyes in the seconds that passed, encased in stone. Balen knew the stone would not harm him if he did, but he preferred the darkness behind closed eyes to the darkness of suffocating stone. Once through, he felt the cool air envelop him before he opened his eyes again. He was once again surrounded by a crowd of elves who had come to see the strange intruder. As Balen searched for a gap through the crowd he heard a clear voice not far from where he stood. The voice was strange, in both tone and emphasis. Balen thought perhaps the elf did not speak his tongue, but as the voice became clearer to him, he understood the words.
"… many other tribes. We thought all had perished in Blue Mountain."
Balen no longer cared for kindness and pushed between two elves in front of him. He felt himself involuntarily using his rock-shaping magic to move the elves apart enough for him to squeeze between them through the crowd. He heard the familiar voice of Lord Umber.
"No. But no dwellers of the Blue Mountain remain here. As you probably witnessed, there are few elves here with the gift of flight."
"What, then, do you call yourselves if you are not Gliders?" asked the strange elf. Balen could see, as he got closer, the small group of elves that stood before Lord Umber. He scanned them, noting the distinctly taller elf, but realized quickly that his father could not be among the group. He wanted a clear view of them, and he wanted it so desperately his heart continued to pound violently within his chest though he had stopped running. Who are you? The question pounded in his head with each heartbeat. He could feel a strong tingling sensation in her fingertips. It was as if he could feel a pulsating magic coming from the band of elves. He felt immense power, ancient power emanate unlike anything he had felt in his life. Who are you?
With a final push, he stood a few short steps from Lord Umber, whose back was to Balen. He watched the strange elf as Lord Umber said, "We are simply dwellers of The Mountain."
The elf stood before the rest, facing Lord Umber directly. A wild array of flaxen hair was gathered partially up with a thin piece of leather atop his head. His eyes were a deep, crystalline blue and flashed with an intensity that Balen found enthralling. Light tufts of hair sprouted from the contours of his face, giving him a distinct animalistic quality that left Balen mesmerized. He wore a vest of fur that encased his shoulders, the sleeves wrapped tightly about him with straps of crisscrossing leather. His chest and abdomen otherwise were bare of any covering. His skin was taught, and Balen had never seen anyone with the physical form this strange elf possessed. His legs were covered with dark leather, decorated with a yellow loincloth emblazoned with a strange green-blue feature. Thick leather boots that extended up his calf, capped with thick fur, covered his feet.
Balen stood, enraptured, absorbing the striking image of the elf. The elf rubbed his chin, looking at Lord Umber with perhaps confusion, though Balen could not be certain. Another elf, slightly taller than the first, as tall as Balen himself, stepped forward. The second elf had rich, deep skin that perplexed Balen immensely. His hair was also a flaxen color but hung differently about the elf's face.
"Lord Umber," the second elf spoke, hesitating slightly as he said the supreme leader's name. "We have the ability to hear the cries of others of our kind. We followed the signal that came from within this mountain."
The second elf glanced over at the first, who nodded in a sort of approval for him to continue. "We thought only to find the source of the furor. We came to offer our help. If you were in need, that is." The elf stopped and looked directly at Balen. "It came from the rock-shaper there, no?" The elf gestured toward Balen, and he saw the glinting eyes of the strange elves move to look at him as he stood, paralyzed, the crowd of Mountain elves stirring behind him.