Yet another chapter for those of you read and like this story. I am writing them as fast as I can, and will post more as often as I can. Critical feedback is welcome…but then, any feedback at all is a wonderful thing, and something I look forward to. Enjoy. Azurielle
The return trip to Everall was fairly uneventful. Zelairwyn recovered quickly form his shock on the night of the battle, and seemed more determined than ever to learn to defend himself.
We arrived back at the school not long after the sun had reached its noon apex. At Liralyn's house there was a "welcoming party" awaiting our arrival.
My gold cousin, looking fair as always would have been fairer still, had there been any pleasant expression on her face. As it was, she was trying to be calm, to retain the outward apathy that the Ar'Tel' Quessir tend to show to the world. She was not quite succeeding for there was a flash of anger in her silver eyes that was hard to miss…more, I sensed that that anger was not all directed at her son.
"Lord Nightstar," she began, her voice measured and even. "I was under the impression that you had been sent here to protect my son." I nodded, waiting for the impending lecture, for her tone was one that only an upset mother could possibly achieve.
"Then pray explain to me how taking Zelairwyn to Banshee Keep during a drow attack is "protection"?" her arms were crossed under her breasts, her back stiff as a paladin's at that moment.
"Is he dead?" I asked her. Before she could answer, I went on. "Does he appear harmed? No. That is because I fulfilled my duty and protected him."
"You took him into a battle!" she stated, sharply.
"I took him where I assumed he would be safe, that keep having never been invaded by the dark elves in all the years since it was rebuilt," I corrected.
"He is a child! You had no business taking him to the border, or anywhere but back here!" She was beginning to lose her temper…it must come from the Nightstar side of the family, I thought.
" Must I remind you that I am also here to aid against the drow, and that had they broken the border line there, it would have only been a matter of time before that border failed elsewhere, leaving this school, and your children in jeopardy?"
"That is not the point! In any case, even should such a thing have happened, which knowing the reputation of Banshee Keep's inhabitants, would never have come to pass anyhow, danger would not come to Everall! We have taken measure to ensure the safety of this school!"
"Then if it so safe, why was I sent here to protect a boy whom, I might mention, has no knowledge as to why he requires such a guard?" Her silver eyes flashed angrily and momentarily, with fear.
"That is none of your affair!"
"And I contest that it is! It is my life, and it is his! And having been in such a position where well-intended ignorance was meant as a protection, and ultimately proved to be the worst sort of detriment, I can say I know exactly what the consequences of such ignorance is, therefore as Zelairwyn's guard I make it my affair, lady cousin." She did not reply. Her face flush with anger, she turned to Zelairwyn.
"Leave us."
"No," he refused.
"I said, go to your room!" she clarified more stridently.
"Mother, I want…" Zelairwyn tried to protest.
"After the amount of trouble you have caused you are in no position to make requests. Now, go!" He looked defiant, he wanted to be defiant, but I shook my head at him. I'd given my word to aid him, and I would do that but I knew from experience that now was not the time for him to press her for information. He left, stomping his boots loudly against the stairs, making his own anger heard in any manner he could. In a trice, my cousin's attention was back on myself.
"You have no idea of what you speak," she told me.
"Don't I?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
"My son…who he is makes him a target. And thus far, members of the royal family have not fared well when it comes to survival."
"It is not right to keep his father's identity from him. He rebels now because of the secrets surrounding him. He does not understand why he should require special protection when none of his siblings do."
"Every member of his father's family in line for the throne has suffered a terrible fate, except for two. Two!"
"By your own accounting he is not in line for the throne. As Ar'Tel Quessir, he never will be. What are you so afraid of?" I asked. She wavered, but stood fast.
"It is not your business. My son is my affair, and mine alone! You are his guard, and a distant relative, nothing more! So mind your own task, and your own child, and I will mind mine!" She stalked away deciding that the conversation was at an end, I suppose.
So she won the first battle, but I did not intend to give up easily. She was hiding something…something far more than the identity of a father from his son. And if little else, I am curious. I will find out the truth. It's only a matter of time, which as one of the People, I have an abundance of.
Meanwhile, I had no end of topics that I had to deal with, to think about. Zelairwyn and his problems, my cousin and her secrets, the nature of my sword and how to control it, when I might be called into service once more, what to teach my students, who would be returning to school in short order, my position in my family and where I would stand in years to come with my decision not to wed or provide an heir. All were hard subjects to work with, and all could have easily occupied my mind as I trudged up the stairs…but when I reached my apartments, I quickly learned that there was a more pressing matter at hand.
She was waiting for me, seated on a chair just beyond the door, her feet swinging in the air a few inches off the floor, kicking back and forth. Sanhandrian sat on her shoulder, his ears laid flat with irritation that I could feel through our bond. Her little hands were fisted in lap, as she glared up at me. I didn't even manage to get a word out before my darling Sera erupted into a tantrum of intensity, the likes of which I had not seen in sometime.
"You left without me!" she began shrieking as she leapt to her feet. "You promised!" she wailed.
"Sera…"I began, but she would not hear it.
"You said you wouldn't ever leave me!" she screamed, her elven form wavering at the edges.
"Sera…" my voice held a warning that she completely ignored. The elven child vanished in a moment, and replacing that form was Sera, in her full glory. Nearly 7 feet high, and longer than length-wise, she effectively filled the room, her bluish-silver scales gleaming dully in the light from the windows.
"You left me, and you took that…boy with you instead! You love him more than me!" she threw herself to the floor with a resounding thud, her tail thrashing about wildly, knocking over the chair she'd been sitting on. Sanhandrian scurried up the wall, seating himself on a torch sconce, abandoning his annoyance at also having been left behind, in favor for security from the imminent danger to his small self.
"Sera, I do not love him more than you…and I didn't take him with me, I had to go find him," I shouted over the din she was causing, trying to explain, despite the knowledge that such a tactic rarely works.
"You never play with me anymore…you're always busy!" she cried tears large enough to fill a potion bottle, slamming her tail into the wall, and beating her claws against the floor. I sighed, knowing I could never win this argument. Sera wanted to be free to spend time with her friends, so I backed off and let her, no matter that it hurt to see how fast she was growing up and away from me. Yet because I had done so, she saw it as my abandoning her. I swear the minds of children and women remain an anathema to me.
"Sera, please try to understand I…" I began. She shook her head violently and roared. A blast of icy air and shards flew from her throat, freezing the wall beside me. Deciding then, that perhaps I should let her calm down before talking to her, trying to explain, I turned to leave the room. At this point there was nothing for me to say that she would listen to. She shrieked louder as I moved to open the door and leave her to her tantrum. Throwing herself about, her tail twitched, and slammed into my legs. I am certain it was an accident. All the same, I tripped, falling to the side. The side of my head hit the edge of the chair she'd knocked over, and pain spiked through my head, as I blacked out.
I stirred what must have been only moments later. My head felt terrible. It was worse than the most painful headache I've ever had. My other wounds did not feel so great either, and I felt something oozing against the skin on my chest…presumably something had reopened. I groaned, resisting the urge to vomit. Hovering over me, Sera was still crying, once more in her elven shape. For a moment there seemed to be two of her, but the image converged back into one as I forced my vision to focus.
"Daddy!" she cried, shaking my shoulder. "Please be all right…please! I'm sorry…I didn't mean to hit you! Daddy please wake up!" Her voice, childish, was high pitched and loud, sending new lances of pain through my head.
"Shh…"I managed. It didn't work as I'd planned.
"You're alive!!" she shrieked. I sat up quickly, no matter the wave of vertigo such an action caused, and clapped my hand over her mouth.
"Shh! Sera, please! Daddy's head hurts very much, so please keep your tone low!" I ordered, raising my other hand to cover the spot on the side of my head where the majority of the pain was emanating from, as though that might somehow cause it to cease. She at least was good enough to look sorry, as she nodded her agreement. I moved my hand away.
"I'm so, so sorry, Daddy," she whispered, almost too low to hear. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear!"
"I know you didn't," I told her, wishing only for a drink, or for something to numb the pain. "However, you must try to remember that you're a very big in your true form, and that such thrashing about and carrying on is unacceptable for a young lady, or a dragon," I tried to keep the reprimand mild, but at the same time I didn't want a repeat performance. "Besides hurting me, you might have hurt Sanhandrian, or yourself…and you've damaged the room, the walls, and the chair, none of which belong to you. Now you'll have to apologize to Lady Liralyn for the mess, and you will use some of your hoard to repair it, is that clear?" She nodded, fresh tears tracking their way down her cheeks. I sighed, and hugged her against me.
"How could you ever think I would love someone more than you?" I asked her, happy to note than the pain was settling to a dull throb in my head.
"You went away. You didn't even tell me where you were going," she whispered, her words catching a little, as she tried to stop her crying.
"Sera, I didn't even know where I was going. Zelairwyn ran away…do you understand "ran away"?" I asked. She nodded.
"It's when someone leaves and doesn't tell anyone, because they aren't supposed to go, and they don't want to come back."
"That's right. But running away is bad because you might get hurt by bad people, and because it makes the people you love worry about you. Zelairwyn's mother was worried, so she asked me to go find him."
"Did bad people try to hurt him?" she asked.
"Yes," I told her. It wasn't quite an untruth. The drow, after all, would have hurt Zelairwyn given the chance. And he never would have been in such a position had he not run off.
"Did you save him?" was her next query.
"I did, but some of those people hurt me when I stopped them. So you see why running away is never a good idea? You might get hurt, but the people you love will be hurt too."
"I won't run away," she vowed. I hoped she meant it, but who can tell with children.
"But do you know what hurts most, Sera?" I asked her. She shook her head, snuggling closer, reminding me of when she had been very young.
"That you didn't trust me to come back…that you thought I would leave you," I told her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I get afraid."
"Why?"
"That you'll have a real daughter, like Kelly, and you'll love her more than me," she confessed.
"Who said you're not my real daughter?" I asked, a little angrily.
"Lots of people," she refused to name any names in specific.
"Sera, you'll always be my daughter. I will always love you, no matter if I have other children. You'll always be the first." I did not tell her that I had no intention of siring another child…ever.
"Now, come on. We'll straighten up this mess, then I want to go rest for a bit. You can apologize to Lady Liralyn after dinner. And tomorrow, I promise, we'll do whatever you want."
"Can I ride Lashrael 2?" she asked.
"If you want," I sighed. She knows how much I dislike her to ride the devil-horse…even if the beast is ten times more amiable towards Sera than he is towards me…acts like a damned garden party pony with her on his back. Smiling now, and wiping away the last of her tears, Sera stood up, caught sight of the blood on my tunic, and promptly began screaming that I was bleeding, that she'd killed me, and for someone to come help, despite my assurances that it wasn't nothing serious.
The rest of the day did not get much better from there.
Dinner was a sorry affair. Sera moped and fidgeted over her impending apology. Zelairwyn sulked, and cast dagger-filled glances as his mother, alternating with pleading expressions towards me. Liralyn ate without her usual grace, hands grabbing trays with angry gestures. She would not meet anyone's eyes. Everyone else was obvious uncomfortable by the emotions thick in the air, and most of them left as early as they could. My head was still throbbing steadily, leaving me with little appetite. I was glad when the whole thing was over with, and departed as soon as Sera finished saying she was sorry for the damage she'd caused, and handed over a small bag of her hoarded coins to Liralyn, who accepted them with admonition that a lady should leave to control her temper. It was in me to say that perhaps she should heed her own advice, for Liralyn had been in quite a temper earlier…or that I might tell her that my daughter needs no advice from a woman who has _ children by a like number of different father…or even that, as she had told me to keep out of her affairs with her son, so she should do likewise with me and my daughter…but I said none of those things, biting my tongue as it were, and returned to my rooms without incident. I slipped gratefully into reverie as soon as Sera had been tucked into bed, wanting only for the whole miserable day to be put behind me.
Time passed, as it tends to do. As the days became weeks, things began to settle into a routine once more. I had yet to convince Liralyn to tell Zelairwyn the truth by the time Midwinter had come and the snows were heavy on the ground.
As promised, I'd begun working with Zelairwyn, training him in the art of battle, and forcing myself to be a hard taskmaster. I knew that Liralyn was right in thinking that, even removed from the line of succession, there would be those who would still see Zelairwyn as a threat and want him dead, or try to use him as a hostage against the Queen's affections. To falter in my training him meant that he might falter when the crucial moment came. To keep that from happening I forced him to spar until his arms could no longer lift the wooden sword I trained him with…to run until his muscles could no longer hold him up. To his credit, he did not whine or beg for respite. In fact, he fairly hummed with determination and there were times when he would continue on with his practice until long after I advised him to stop. He would grow angry every time I slipped a weapon past his defense, and cry tears of rage if he could not manage to master something when he wished to. He is much stronger than I was at a like age.
Still, he learned well, and had the skill necessary to be good…no doubt the blood of his father, and grandfather running in his veins attested to that skill. He focused on the bastard sword, although I was insistent that he train with all sorts of weapons, as I had. The sword, which could either be used with one hand, or two, was like enough to the great sword that I had no problems teaching it.
During the hours I taught him, usually after I'd finished with my other classes for the day, Sera was a constant watcher. She would sit by the edge of the yard, pretending to be studying her books on magic, but watching us, all the while. I knew she was jealous of any time I spent with Zelairwyn, and so I was forced to be careful to spend at least as much time, if not more with her. Her friends still keep her occupied a good deal of the time and she still strives for a degree of independence, but I've grown to notice that no matter how far ahead of me she might walk, she still looks back, over her shoulder to see that I am there.
My students work hard at their craft and learning. For my elven history class, we are currently working on the history of the elven kingdom known as Aryvandaar, which rose to power shortly after the magical sundering of Faerun that occurred when Evermeet was created by the high magi. Aryvandaar, where high magi towers numbered in the hundreds, where the elven people were ruled by a gold elven council of elder ruled, and Evermeet was a place that many of the People only dreamed of seeing. They were currently researching the fall of Sharlarion, which had been the capital city of Aryvandaar, a fall which had left Evermeet as the last great kingdom of elves, and with the only high magi left in the world. The students were as fascinated by the subject as I had always been.
A few of the other history teachers have introduced me to an idea designed to help the students practice their researching and reading skills: after-class work. So I have told each of them that they must choose one specific place relevant to elven history, research and find as many details they can on it, and write down the information, and their opinion as to why that particular place still exists, or why it fell. Naturally, neither Evermeet nor Evereska, both being far too easy to research, are options for the assignment. Most of the students have taken to the idea eagerly, brining forth a multitude of topics for my approval. Zelairwyn, however, did not seem overly happy as he is not the best of students when it comes to book work, and as he spends much of his free time studying weapon play.
In my smithing class, I've finally gotten them up to the actual steps of creating an item of their own choosing. It is a great deal of work, requiring time and effort on their part and mine. They constantly ask my advice on the matter of one thing or another. Do you think the line of this blade is straight? Have I heated the fire too much, or not enough? How can I get the silverwork to look like so? Those were the types of questions they asked me. I must admit, though, I did not have ready answer for every question they had. They spend a great deal of time doing things over and over again, until they got it just right, for I had informed them that there was no point in completing anything if there was any sort of flaw in it. I'm a bit of a perfectionist I am told. Poor Talath is so far behind I fear he will never complete a single thing. Meanwhile Jaelen and Sorcha have a contest going that they think I don't know about over which one will complete their item first.
In the very rare moments in which I actually have spare time, I have been doing research of my own in the library of the school. Though it is extensive, I've had little luck searching for any information on the Fury of Battle. My few attempts at trying to control the rage brought on by the sword have nearly ended in catastrophe for the few I have managed to convince to aid me. I have been unable to gain the slightest control over the rage, although I have learned, through the experiments, that the potency of the rage is increased by nearly double the usual when I use the sword. So basically it is of use if there are a great number of enemies about me, or at least no allies with me.
After a bit of asking about I learned that I might have more luck on discovering the sword's nature within the libraries of a temple to Tempus. Fortunately there is a rather large temple, the Abbey of the Sword very near to Ashabenford, and I have sent a letter there requesting copies of any information found on the Fury of Battle, along with a sizeable donation, that I might actually receive said information.
Until such time as I can learn more about the weapon, though, I have decided to refrain from using it, unless the situation is dire. To that end, I confiscated anew great sword from the armory, and have spent the better part of the winter enchanting it that it might be actually useful.
My other research involves Zelairwyn's medallion. Since I am unable to remove it from him, study of it is difficult. One of the teachers, a human by the name of Corun Ilbraith, who was a excellent artist and cartographer, among other skills, drew a detailed drawing of the amulet. Thus far there has been nothing quite like it in any books I have gone through. A simple identification spell gained me little more information than I had already known, forcing me to research a more powerful spell to try.
The second spell yielded better results. I learned exactly the types of effects the medallion produced. There was the illusion spell, which was a greater illusion. It allowed for the altering of anything, including sight, scent, and sound. Underneath the illusion spell was a polymorph spell. Such a spell was like the illusion, in that it hid a true form with another, exactly like Sera's ability to change shapes. The two spells seemed odd to me, for normally the illusion spell would suffice on its own. Why stack the two?
There was also a powerful protection spell, much like a ring of protection. It would cause a good many lesser attacks to be deflected away from Zelairwyn.
Hidden deeper was a geas spell, and a concealing spell. The former was a compulsion type of spell with specific boundaries. The one on the amulet forbade anyone but the caster from removing it. The latter was to keep the amulet unnoticed by anyone who meant harm to the wearer; to keep anyone who might try to take the amulet off by force from seeing it, I suppose.
All in all the sum of the spells made for a very interesting puzzle. Zelairwyn claimed he could not remember a time when he had not worn it, nor could he remember having had it removed…ever. The magic on the amulet was powerful, so much so that the dispel magic I tried on it did not work even mildly. I thought that a greater dispel might work but since I do not have access to such a spell, nor have I the skill yet to cast it, it will have to wait for a later time.
Yet I wondered just what was it my cousin was hiding about her son? Why the need for such a powerful protective item if she never meant for him to go anywhere dangerous? And why the illusions? Zelairwyn is even more confounded. He wanted to go immediately to his mother and demand an answer, but I was quick to counsel against it. Parents, I informed him, did not react well to such demands on the part of their children, especially involving something they'd obviously been secretive about. I told him to bide his time and that, one way or another, we would find the answer to the questions.
I suppose I might have spoken with the resident divination wizard to learn more, but the man, Selvan Kalnost was also the necromancy teacher…and there was something about him that bothered me. Oh he seemed a nice enough fellow. He had dusky tan skin and sun-bleached blond hair, and I was told he hailed from Calimport: a human city to the very far south. Still, there is something odd about a man who spends his days either staring into a crystal ball or pool of water, looking for insight, or cutting up corpses trying to discern how "things" work.
Aside from all that, and the few fights I've managed to pick with Kalanas and his "brother," things have been rather quiet. I might also add that this is the longest I've been celibate for two decades. Its not that I've lost interest, only that there aren't a whole lot of options here at Everall. The few female teachers are either attached, not my type or too old. The one or two I have spent any time with have little interest in any sort of attachments, even casually. As for the rest, they are mostly students, and therefore mostly off limits. Some of the older students are fair enough, but the idea of having relations with one of the girls I'm supposed to teach is somewhat nauseating. It would be like sleeping with Allianna…no matter how pretty they are, they're someone I'm supposed to be looking out for, not seducing.
And as for my cousin, Liralyn is quite attractive, and judging by her numerous children, not overly concerned with appearances or relationships. Still, even if we were on better terms, and not in a stalemate over Zelairwyn, she is most clearly attached to another. Apparently, despite all of her children after Rhylaun, she still bears some affection for the boy's father Kalanas. On more than one occasion I happened to see the drow at the house, in my cousin's company. Whenever he is there, I find a reason to remove myself, Sera, and oft times, Zelairwyn from the grounds. If Liralyn chooses to court death and danger, that is her choice, although it is my belief that she must be somewhat mad. However, keeping Sera and Zelairwyn from such dangerous exposure is my responsibility. I may not have come up with proof enough to kill the dark elf, but I won't risk my charge or my daughter in trying to do so, n matter how much I despise Kalanas.
The Midwinter festival came and went, with a great deal of excitement on the part of the students, all of whom were given two ten-days respite from school work during that time. There was a grand fest at the dining hall on the Midwinter's day for the students, and a smaller affair later that night for the teachers. Gifts were exchanged throughout the vacation, with everyone celebrating the turn of the year towards spring.
I did not involve myself too much with the festivities, however. For one, I was still not very friendly with many of the other teachers…my own fault, though, for I disliked socializing for the most part, and my antipathy towards the dark elf had not made me a great favorite, for he was liked by many. Then there was the bit of homesickness I was finally beginning to feel. Oh, it wasn't so much my home I missed, but rather my family. As much as I have complained about them in the past, I had spent all of the most recent Midwinters with them, and I rather wished that they were here with Sera and I. There was no little brother running about, nor were my sisters and Orianna giggling about whether or not Tobias would like their new dresses. I had not my father there to argue with, or Sylthas and Tobias to with me to one of the many parties. And my mother was not there to give me a kiss and tell me how much she loved me.
I missed them, and in my loneliness I avoided the festivities, feeling that it would only make that longing worse, seeing everyone so happy.
A few days after the festival, I received a package from Evermeet, from my family, which went a long way towards cheering me from my melancholy. There were gifts in it for Sera and I, as well as a letter describing the few events that occurred while I was gone.
There had been no great news for them to report, although they did say that Tobias was planning to leave Evermeet, once the spring came and ships sailed. My sisters, my mother wrote, were heat broken over the news. I think that they will survive the "heartbreak," and I'm rather glad that Tobias would be returning to the mainland, actually, as I had a few favors to ask of him, including Zelairwyn's request that I find out what happened to his friends in Evereska.
The spring thaw came early, and left us without an abjuration teacher. Shelinda had slipped away to Arvandyr shortly after Midwinter. Liralyn is, of course, looking for a replacement, but claims that it might be some time before one is found. Sera was naturally upset for she had liked the ancient elven woman greatly. She has been pestering me more and more of late about how all of her friends have mothers, and she doesn't have one. She has also been asking odd questions, about whether or not I was in love with anyone.
Personally, I think she spends far too much time with her friends, and reads far too many romantic stories, of which she has amassed dozens of, though her friends' generosity. I suppose that I should be glad she'd reading, but must it be such nonsense? The next thing I know she'll be telling me she means to join the cult of Hanali Celanil. The elven goddess of love, indeed. More like a deity for dreamers and fools…which explains why Tobias follows her. She's as bad as Erevan Ilesere…the child's god of pranks and trouble. The Seldarine is, in my opinion, the greatest pantheon of gods in all of Faerun…and would probably be far more respected if it weren't for gods as irresponsible as those two.
Not long after the Greengrass festival of spring the students in my history class asked if I would tell them more of the royal family of Evermeet. Apparently the topic had come up in conversation and they wanted to know more.
It was a subject on which I had made myself well versed during the most recent two decades I had spent in Evermeet. Certainly it seemed like a harmless enough subject, and was something that they would be required to know if they truly wished to understand elven history…still, I wasn't certain if it was a good idea to be teaching it now, in light of the ongoing arguments I had been having with Liralyn. She might see it as my interfering again. At the same time, though, I cannot not think of any other plausible excuse not to fulfill the request.
So with a bit of trepidation, I gathered all the necessary notes and books together and prepared the appropriate lessons.
The story of the royal family is quite an interesting one, and yet tragic as well. On Evermeet my access to the great libraries there had me come across a book, written by a human no less, chronicling the history of the elves. As an overview, it was actually quite insightful, and focused especially on the lives of the king and queen. I had copied several portions out of it, though it is a restricted book and even I did not have access to parts of it.
Using a copy spell I handed out portions of the story to the students, and spoke on more detail of what the pages did not explain.
They were, as I had been, fascinated by King Zaor's rise to power, and his reluctance to claim that power, even though it was clear to all that he was meant to be king of the People, as prophesized by the great seer Ethlando, one of the few survivors of Aryvandaar. They learned how the King was forced to wed Lydi'aeera Amarillis against his will, for political purposes, and of how Lydi'aleera had killed herself by attempting to draw the king's moonblade after her son, Rhenalyr had failed to draw the sword, dying, and thus proving he was not worthy to be an heir of Evermeet. I explained in great detail of how Amlaruil had become queen after that, and of how she and Zaor ruled so well for the years following that. They were saddened and intrigued by the deaths of the many royal heirs…all of them seemingly accidental and tragic. I was careful not to spend too much time focusing on the princes Xharlion and Zhoron who'd disappeared during an attack on the Moonshaes by a terrible creature known as the Elf eater, a creature of the Beast God, Malar, which devoured the bodies and souls of elves. We finished with the betrayal of the Ar-Tel Quessir, Kymil Nimesin who was discovered to be behind many of the royal deaths, including the assassination our King Zaor. He'd been so clever in his evil that he'd even managed to trick Prince Lamruil into aiding him in his search for Lamruil missing older siblings, always arriving "too late" to save any of them.
I told them each to choose a member of the royal court, research, and write a report on said person. I in no way influenced their choices, and yet was quite dismayed when Zelairwyn chose the twin princes, one of whom was his own father, for his report. I have to hope he mentions nothing of this to his mother, for I know she will think I assigned him Xharlion deliberately. I am starting to become fond of the school and comfortable in my position here, and despite my belief that Liralyn should tell Zelairwyn his father's name, I have no desire to jeopardize my place here by going against her wishes.
I think, perhaps, that it was not wise of me to think ill of the god, Erevan Ilesere. I imagine that even the gods of mischief does not care for being distained, for he had certainly managed to play a jest on me.
As I had written such a fear only a few days ago, so it has come true. Zelairwyn has found out the truth, and though I never said a word, it was from me he found it out.
He arrived early to history class, apparently wishing to speak with me about his report. I was running late with the smithy class, for Talath had managed to burn himself yet again. Since I had last been writing here, in the classroom, I had foolishly left the most recent section of my journal there.
Zelairwyn, being the curious little brat he is decided to sit at my desk and snoop through my things. Since I have never had to be overly concerned about anyone reading my journal, I didn't even think anything of it.
At least I never did until I walked in to the classroom to see Zelairwyn staring down at the last entry in my journal, his golden skin ashen, the rough draft of his report crumpled in his clenched fist on his lap.
I knew immediately what he had to have read in that entry, and damned myself for a fool three times over, knowing that I had just inadvertently caused more trouble for myself than usual.
I suppose I might have been angry at him for reading my journal, especially considering it does contain my private thoughts, but all things considered he was upset enough over learning what he'd just learned. Furthermore, after having my parents read the journal, I'm not overly protective of it…although perhaps I should be.
Finally hearing my entrance or at least sensing my presence at last, he turned his head in my direction, silver eyes wide and staring.
"Zelairwyn?" I asked, misliking the look of terrible shock on his face. He did not respond. I stepped closer.
"Zelairwyn?" I repeated, more insistently. Still he remained unresponsive. Putting a hand on his shoulder, I shook him gently.
"Zelairwyn, I know what you read. I know it must be a terrible shock." He started to laugh, low at first, then gaining in pitch until the sound grew distinctly unhealthy. He stared down to the pages in his clenched hand, laughing for a long moment before screaming in rage, tearing the pages and hurling them across the desk.
Even over the din Zelairwyn was causing, I heard the voices of the other students headed towards the classroom. I left the desk and the screaming boy for a moment, long enough to stick my head out the door and inform them that class was canceled for the day, and that they were free to do as they wished. I quickly shut the door and bolted it, not wanting uninvited visitors. I knew that Zelairwyn would not wish any one to see him like this, as I would never want anyone to see me in a similar state.
By the time I turned back to him he had slid off the chair, to the floor, and had doubled over, as though he was in pain. His screams had subsided, changed into terrible heaving sobs that echoed in the empty classroom.
I wasn't exactly certain what to do, given the situation. Were it Sera, I would have hugged her to me until her tears stopped, telling her that everything would be alright. Zelairwyn was most definitely not Sera, however.
Awkwardly, I knelt beside him, put my hand on his back to at least let him know I was there.
"Zelairwyn," I said, quietly. "You must calm down. Talk to me. Let me help you." He shook his head violently, coughing for his sobs were so hysterically he was having trouble catching his breath. At least I know he'd heard me.
"Look, I know this must come as a shock to you. For my part, I can't fully imagine what you're feeling. But it is not really so bad is? I've heard that Xharlion was not a bad person, that he might have been an elf to rival his father." Zelairwyn shook his head.
"Not…that…" he gasped out, speaking for the first time. At least he was trying to talk. That was good…talking that is, or so Celedor always told me.
"Then what?" I asked him, trying to draw forth more conversation. Zelairwyn seemed to make a visible effort to slow his breathing to try to calm. As I said, despite everything, Zelairwyn is not the sort who cries all that easily, thus I knew he was truly upset. When he had managed to silence the worst of his crying but for a few small sobs that escaped him…proof that he was still hurting, he tried to explain.
"I just…I thought he was just some noble. I thought that…that he was s-still alive, and maybe th-that he would come see me someday. That he would want me… I wanted a…a father…'cause all my brothers an' sisters have one, an' I don't…but now…now…I'll never get to meet him…I'll n-never know if…if he w-wanted me! Even if I die, I'll never see him, cause the…elf…eater…killed him! And that m-means…ev-even his soul!" Zelairwyn all but wailed the last, collapsing into sobs once more, drawing his legs tight against his chest and burying his face in his arms.
I wasn't certain what to do. I had never thought of Prince Xharlion's death in such terms…but could now understand, to a degree, why Zelairwyn was so terribly upset. The boy had hoped that his father would miraculously come for him someday…and in learning the identity of his father, he'd learned that not only would Xharlion never come for him, but even in the after life in Arvandyr, Xharlion would not be there.
I thought of telling him that it might not have been Xharlion, but Zhoron who'd been eaten by the elf-eater. After all, the truth was that the accounts of what had happened that day on the Moonshaes only agreed that one blue-haired elven youth had been eaten…there had been no evidence as to what had happened to the other. There was a chance, never mind how minute, that Xharlion was still alive somewhere on the Moonshaes. But I did not say that. For one, Zelairwyn might have already learned that in doing his research paper. For another, I did not want to give him false hope when I doubted there was any hope at all. After all, if Xharlion Moonflower was still alive, after all this time, he damned well should have had the decency to get word to the Queen…and if he hadn't any decency, then he certainly didn't deserve to be able to claim Zelairwyn for his son. Still, I knew that the sound of a voice speaking might help, so I spoke, keeping my hand on his back, continuing to let him know that I was still there.
"Zelairwyn, I know it hurts. And I know what it is like to lose a father." He shook his head, disagreeing, as he knew that my father was not dead. I clarified.
"I know my father is still alive but for a very long time I believed otherwise. I thought that I had lost both he and my mother in the ocean while I had survived when, by all rights, it should have been me who died. And I lost both my foster parents, two people whom I loved as dearly as my birth parents. Losing someone…it is never easy. And as for not meeting him in Arvandyr, I do not think that is true. Remember that princess Ilryana, your aunt, did battle with the elf-eater as the avatar of Angharradh. It is believed that she might have slain the creature, and perhaps, just perhaps in doing so, she released the souls of the elves it had taken." I do not know whether the last part was true in any form, but it seemed a reasonable assumption. After all, the Seldarine are a most powerful pantheon, and Angharradh is the embodiment of not one, but three of the elven goddesses. That power, combined with the power of the princess Ilyrana is a fore that very little evil could stand against. The gods accomplish miracles as a daily occurrence. Why would they not work to save the souls of their own people?
"But I'll never see him!" Zelairwyn cried.
"Yet you do see him…every time you look in the mirror you see a part of him," I replied. Zelairwyn shook his head.
"I'm gold…he was moon. I look like her…not him," he protested.
"Your features perhaps they show the resemblance. You may be more like him than yo…" I paused for a moment my mind beginning to consider something I had not dare consider before. A thought…and a terrible one occurring to me at that moment, as though the gods had struck me with it. What if Zelairwyn did resemble his father? What if the boy who, in truth, carried far more moon elven blood than gold, resembled his father? Zelairwyn coloring did resemble his mother…but not the features. I had never seen a likeness of Xharlion Moonflower or his twin, Zhoron, but I assumed such a likeness had to exist. And if it did, then anyone seeing it and seeing Zelairwyn might be able to compare the two. Perhaps that was the reason for the amulet… perhaps Liralyn was trying to change some of her son's features so that he would never be recognized. Then another thought followed the first…a thought that made sense of the amulet, my presence, and so much more. I hardly dared to consider it. I hardly dare to write it now. But write I shall to try to make sense of things, as they occurred to me in that moment…but know that I will be warding my journal from this moment on with spells such that few wizards will be able to break.
Why was it that Liralyn was always so careful to remind me that Zelairwyn was not in the line of succession? Why the necklace, if only to hide a few features of a gold elven child who could never truly be a threat? Why was a guard necessary if he was unimportant? Why illusions spells and polymorph both? What exactly was it that Liralyn was hiding in Zelairwyn? The answer…my best guess came to me then, and I knew it was something that I cannot reveal to Zelairwyn if it is true. After all how would one tell a gold elf child that his mother has lied to him from birth and the necklace that protects him also hides his true heritage from him…the truth that Zelairwyn may well resemble his father, a prince of Evermeet, far more than is healthy…that who he believes himself to be might just be a lie…and most importantly that, if I am right, Zelairwyn Sunstar may well be, in fact, an heir to throne of Evermeet? How could I tell him that at that moment, I suspected that he was as much a moon elf as I am?
I couldn't. I dared not. For one, I have no proof, only suppositions. For another, it is not my right…only his mother, or perhaps the Queen had that right, although if it is true, I think it is a terrible that they have done this to him…for his safety or otherwise. It would be like my trapping Sera in an elven body and telling her that she is an elf, and not a dragon at all. Which is more important in such a situation, truth or safety? I can't say that I know…although, to be fair, if Zelairwyn were my son and I knew his life to be in peril, I might well have done the same thing. The only thing I knew at that moment, and at this, is that moon elf or gold elf, right or wrong, there was no easy solution to the problem. The only thing I knew for certain was that Zelairwyn must be kept safe, either way.
"…more like him that you know," I repeated, catching my thoughts as though he might peer into my skull and read them.
"What does it matter?" Zelairwyn asked, sounding listless now, as his hysterics faded.
"It matters," I forced him to look at me, to meet my eyes, that he might see I was serious. "Your father is gone, but he left you. You carry him with you, in your blood. He died young, but if his sole purpose in this world was to create you, then it would have been enough."
"Me?" Zelairwyn asked. "There's nothing special about me…nothing except that I'm his son."
"Every child is important to the people," I shook my head at him. "Our numbers in this world are few, dwindling with each year. Do not be so quick to judge yourself worthless. You wished to know whom your father was, and why I was sent to protect you. Now you know, for good or ill. And since you know, then know that it was your grandmother, the Queen of Evermeet who sent me here."
"I don't even know her. I've never even met," Zelairwyn stated.
"Some day you will. For now, though, believe that she is a great woman, and she loves you, as does your mother. I believe that they wanted to protect you by keeping this knowledge from you. Try to look at it that way." Truly, I don't know why I thought I could advise Zelairwyn. I hardly have my own mind straight without trying to fix someone else. But for the moment, I was the only one Zelairwyn had. As Celedor did not turn away from me, despite the monumental task I had set before him, so I would not abandon Zelairwyn.
A thought dawned on Zelairwyn, and as he asked it, I was glad his mind was turning from the shock of what he'd learned that day.
" You're going to get in trouble for this, aren't you? If I tell anyone that I know, that is." I sat back against the wall, able to relax a bit now that the worst of the storm had passed, and nodded.
"Oh, most likely. But don't fret. I am always in trouble, for one thing or another. It is nothing new to me," I informed him, keeping my tone light. Though I was afraid I might lose the place I was beginning to have here, there was no way I meant to let him know that.
"I heard you were a trouble-maker," Zelairwyn commented, rubbing the last of his tears away with the edge of his shirtsleeve.
"You certainly cause enough here…always attacking Rhylaun's father and then having Kellenes attack you," he added. "Kalanas is really not a bad person," he went on. I shrugged.
"He might not be," I said, though I doubted it greatly. "But the fact of the matter is that an apple never falls far from its tree. Once a drow, always a drow, I say."
"Kalanas' parents are followers of Eilistraee…so were their parents," Zelairwyn continued.
"This is not a conversation you really want to have with me," I warned him. "As far as I am concerned, Corellon cursed the drow and if Eilistraee and her people had been truly innocent they would be part of the Seldarine, even now." Zelairwyn sighed, looking downcast once more. In an attempt to distract him, I changed the subject back towards something I was slightly more comfortable talking about.
"And as for trouble, worry not. I've gotten out of worse than this. You couldn't even begin to imagine the havoc I have been known to wreak."
"Really? Like what?" he asked, looking less unhappy.
So for the next few hours I regaled him with tales of the trouble I'd had gotten into on Evermeet, and how, more often than not, Sylthas and Tobias had had to save me from my folly before my parents found out. He was laughing by the time evening fell, and in far better spirits when I added that he was excused from doing the report.
I waited for days for the explosion to occur, but it never came. Every time I spoke with Liralyn, or even passed her in the hallways, I waited for the screaming…waited for the blade to fall. But, as it turns out, Zelairwyn did not reveal that he knew the truth. He appeared to return to his normal self once more. At least outwardly, he did. No one else seemed to notice anything wrong except for me. At practice, he fairly burned with energy…I would call it anger, but I am not certain. He handed in a report, along with the rest of my history students, on time, even though I had excused him. It was titled "Xharlion Moonflower, alive or dead?" and the look he gave me as he handed it to me was one of defiance…as though he dared me to say any thing. I didn't. I graded the paper along with the rest, without comment.
Yet for all that he worked harder, pushed himself further in practice, he hasn't caused any major trouble for some time now. It is as though he is beginning to weigh his options more carefully…to think more about taking risks. In a matter of a few weeks, he had grown up a great deal, just that quickly. I felt bad, for if I had been more cautious, he might, even now, still dream that his father might someday appear. And I worried that he was trying so very hard to shoulder it all alone, for not once since that day in the classroom had he spoken to me on the subject. I, for one, know what it is like trying to handle such a heavy burden alone…and I know that in the long run, it isn't healthy.
It appears I am not the only one, after all, to notice the change in Zelairwyn. Sera, too, has sensed it, and asked me what was wrong with him. It was odd that she should do so, for I assumed that she thought of Zelairwyn as a rival of sorts. For the most part, Sera does not care for any challenges to my affection. In that regard she has always made her feelings known…and on Evermeet she had, more than once, gone out of her way to make certain that no female who was not a blood relation stayed too close to me. She has always been quite jealous in that regard. But when she asked me if Zelairwyn was all right, I sensed concern on her part…not the interest of a dragon seeking out a weakness. That startled me. I replied that he was a bit upset over some things, but that I was sure he'd be fine.
I watched her closely for the next few days after that, and made quite a startling realization. When Sera watched Zelairwyn and I practicing, she was not so much watching me, as she was Zelairwyn. In fact, her eyes, peering over the edge of whatever book she appeared to be reading, scanned his every move. It took me a while to recognize the expression in those silver eyes. I had seen it before, in my sisters' gazes when Tobias entered a room. That expression which had amused me in the eyes of my sister, terrified me in the face of my daughter. Sera, it seemed, had developed her first girlish infatuation with a member of the opposite sex…who just so happened to be my charge, and an a youth who might or might not be an heir to the throne…which verily meant that I couldn't kill him if he suddenly noticed and decided, for some insane reason, to return said infatuation. Gods! She is too young for this…and for that matter, so I am I!
As if my life isn't difficult enough!