Chapter 1- The Rainmaker.
"My head's spinning, boy I'm in that day. Feel isolated, don't wanna communicate" Never Ever, All Saints.
Catalos, Dorian. October 23th, 62 T.A.
It was such a pretty day. It was her birthday. And Keptah was coming home.
They had plenty of those days then, as the autumn was not yet giving way to winter. Arien rarely felt the bitter cold of the environment, even as winter was approaching fast, and with it the heavier robes of the natives. This province of the Empire had developed at an amazing rate. The empire spread its arms from east to west and north. But they never went south. Arien knew Almáriel thanked her gods everyday for that.
Poor Almáriel. Away from everything and everybody she loved. Forever exiled. To someone who was once in such a high position, it must be hard. Arien knew the love she had for family was the only thing that kept her Almáriel from fading. The sorrow that would poison her soul to death. Elves can be very fragile.
But she was radiant today. Her hair in a fashion that kept her pointed ears hidden - they were the only ones that knew the truth. Glauco was obliged to make up a fake genealogy that said Almáriel was of numenorean blood to get married with her, forty-five years ago. It was such a common practice throughout the Empire, but he did it only because they were in love, and otherwise they could never be together.
'They still are, after all these years' Arien thought with a sigh, and walked down to the parlour.
Almáriel finally finished telling the children about the War of the Ring and the last Alliance of Men and Elves. Sometimes, it was as if the noldo felt quite uncomfortable to tell this kind of things, but Almáriel went through with it anyway. She said most the elves were rather annoyed about having human help at war, but Sauron was too powerful a foe, and elves had their numbers greatly diminished after such long fighting- first against Melkor, then his lieutenant, Sauron.
Shaking her head with a start, Arien returned to the more pressing matters. It was time to prepare the feast. They were going to make some local plates. Almáriel ran a store at the center of town, of arts and books, of course, and some very nice jewelry. Dorianians just loved them. Glauco's position was very good too, so they lived in a very comfortable place.
'Oh, I'll be damned. They are already seated for lunch. I must stop being late for meals.'
"Care to join?" Her father Glauco was always joking. Arien wondered idly if he ever got angry outside of the battlefield. His hair had started to gray, but it fit him anyway. And she hoped he'd retire quickly - she didn't want to have one of those soldiers from his lituria telling her he had been killed in action. She wanted Glauco to go with them to the hidden kingdom and stay there till the end of his days.
"Absolutely," she said in her polite, shy, metal-melting tone. They held one another's hands and gave thanks for the day. Almáriel had at first protested about such an intimate treatment of the gods, but Glauco would not give in on that. When Andrea finished his prayer, she felt a very familiar tingle. She could feel the presence she had missed so badly, still faint but becoming stronger. Keptah was coming. She felt him.
And then he entered the room. Short, thin, brown-skin and deep, black eyes. With that warm smile that could light the darkest day. Keptah was the healer of the family. And also a very good friend of Glauco's.
"Seems I came in an inappropriate time?" he said, deep rich voice.
"Of course not!" Arien forgot her aristocratic manners and jumped at his neck. Keptah was about two inches shorter than her. "What were things like at the old Alleannia? Got yourself bored to death?"
"Nobody could be bored at Alleannia, dear! But I did miss you. And all of you." He hugged the girl. That would be a scandal, 'servants' treated as family. But Keptah was family.
The rest of lunch occurred in a far better mood, as they talked about that particular city of the Empire. It held a very famous library and University, where Keptah went to renew his knowledge in healing.
The kids were allowed some time after lunch, their nap time. They couldn't keep themselves awake like Almáriel. In the growing phases, the elvish children need much more slumber than an adult would ever do. Almáriel could daydream and be satisfied. But not the children.
Keeping herself safe in the shade, Arien sneaked to Andrea's bed and hugged him. She liked to sleep like that, listening to his heartbeat slowing to a quiet rhythm. Almáriel had complained often about that habit, but in that the siblings were adamant, and would not be corrected.
That's when they heard it. Their heartbeats increased incredibly.
"What do you mean, they are raising questions?" Glauco cried. Arien had never seen - or heard, for that matter- him being that upset.
"You cannot expect them not to become suspicious, Glauco. War is growing fierce. Men are becoming wary. You have been notoriously unwilling to aid in the struggle." Keptah always kept his voice low and smooth.
"Shows he has more sense than the lot of them," Almáriel spat. The amount of pain in her voice scared the children. Realization was beginning to dawn on the younglings. "It is obvious this realm will not stand long. If anything, their endurance will enflame the elves further."
"Do you know anything?" the doctor asked Almáriel, clearly.
"I know my kind will not suffer this offence for long. They shall win back their homeland."
"Well, neither do we. There will be no truce, of that I am certain. Spirits are rather exalted at Alleannia.."
"Hell, no!" Glauco shouted. In the bed, Andrea held Arien tighter. The girl felt something humid on her neck, he was crying. She realised she'd never seen him crying before. She squeezed his hands, comfortingly. And felt her own tears running down her cheek.
"There will be no truce," Almáriel stated, her voice controlled and calm once again. "We must take the children somewhere safe. It is long overdue."
"What do you mean?" Keptah asked, and Glauco whispered something Arien couldn't quite understand.
"We have to leave. Immediately. We have to find the city and see to it that the children will be safe. They are bound to offer shelter to their own kin." Almáriel spoke again. Her mind set, her will on control.
"Are you sure about it, Keptah?" Glauco asked quietly. The healer must have made a sign, because a few seconds later Glauco spoke again. "Then we cannot linger. Our best chance will be after the feast, since everyone will assume we are resting from the festivities and they will take a while before searching for us."
Arien stood up and walked down the hall. The house was big, and had one side opened so Almáriel wouldn't feel confined. They were still there, faces pale in the splendour of the afternoon sun. The wind was blowing so gently. Her brother's hand was cold on her shoulder.
"We need to settle things. Horses, supplies, maps…" Glauco began matter-of-factly. He didn't admit discussion. Everyone busied himself with something, and Arien was left to pack some clothes for all of them. The servants were at the kitchen preparing the meal for her twentieth birthday party.
At the end of the afternoon, all things were packed and ready. The four-horse wagon was settled. Arien went to the bedroom to get dressed. Andrea was flirting lightly with one of his friends at the yard. He never went any further, though. Almáriel had warned them since birth not to bind themselves, that they'd be in the country only for a brief while.
Then the guest started to arrive.
It was the good old ritual: music, congratulations, dancing. Toasts to Arien's health and hugs; all the whilst praying the guests would leave early. The family was anxious to be as far away as possible from there before dawning. The departure of a general would certainly be one hell of a mess. They had better be far when the officers realised.
Arien retired at about half an hour to midnight. The horses were rested, and they had taken the care of covering the wheels and hoofs with straw and leaves- it would make them all the harder to be tracked. At the last minute it was decided to mount them one mile away from the house, so nobody would suspect anything. She had finished putting on the heavy black robes and cloak when she heard cries on the first pavement.
The girl hurried down with a pang in her belly that told something was truly wrong.
It was Marcus, with a handful of soldiers on his side. He was talking something about high betrayal, but who could possibly know they were leaving tonight? Not even our servants had the time to find out!
She'd never forget the look on Glauco's face that night.
Andrea made a very subtle sign towards her, as he could feel her presence in the room. Almáriel took a few steps back in her direction, telling quietly in sindarin to leave the building and try to get hold of some weapon, if the way was clear. Marcus had taken great pleasure in clarifying what the soldiers were doing in the house, how it was decided among the faithful that Glauco's behaviour could only be explained as that of a traitor, including some surreal thesis about the general sneaking off his camp to provide the elves with crucial information about Dorian.
They had been betrayed. Not by any of the servants, and nobody even knew that could possibly want to leave. Marcus, one of Glauco's brothers-in-arms and close friends, thought it necessary to tell the governor of the Province Glauco was a traitor. Which he wasn't, of course, how could they prove it? Marcus was convinced Glauco had turned sides. They'd be executed, as an example. Well, if the governor was kind enough, they would only kill Glauco, and then all belongings would be transferred to Marcus as a reward for his loyalty (Bastard!); and Andrea, Almáriel and Arien would be under his 'protection'. But of course Andrea would be killed also. What murderer lets a grown up son free to avenge the father's death?
Maybe they'd say it was an accident. The whole bloody Empire was filled with these disgusting stuff.
Then Arien realised Keptah's body laid on the floor, lifeless. the servants had tried to take it away, but none of the warriors allowed them to.
Glauco and Andrea were in the middle of the room, unarmed, with a good dozen soldiers around them. Almáriel was halfway to the yard, the open side of the house, and Arien was behind her.
They had not much time.
Almáriel ran to the door as Andrea and Glauco disarmed the closest soldiers, using their swords to kill them. Almáriel returned with one wagon to pick them all, most of the luggage had been sacrificed for the sake of lightness and speed. She had ran quite fast. But now, as the soldiers saw it, they had to die. The fifth and sixth struggled with Glauco, even as Almáriel resolutely picked one of the fallen soldier's swords and felled the eight and ninth with a clean wipe across the abdomen. They had almost escaped when, to their utter terror, the elves heard more of them coming, attracted by the cries of the agonizing knights.
'They're coming! Let's run now!' Almáriel cried in elvish. Glauco was watching their backs as Andrea and Arien ran to the wagons. But there were more of the soldiers there also. Almáriel produced a bow from somewhere and let fly arrow after arrow to keep the path clean. But she would run out of them soon. Marcus was not stupid, after all.
Arien felt an emptying within her, as if a star had burnt out, and cried in agony. Then it got worse. She saw Andrea turning back. He wasn't going to go. He stood there helping clean the path, as Glauco was dead.
"No! Come with us!" - Arien cried back. But he was stubborn. He would not survive long, alone there with only one sword and twenty knights around him. The women jumped at the wagon and turned it to be ready for a desperate withdrawn.
And then the inevitable happened. He was hit. Hard. Almáriel drove the horses out to the road, even as Arien cried hysterically on her side. Then she pushed the reigns firmly into the child's hands, and with an unnatural, strong whipping on the horses, made the beasts take the wagon far.
And then he was gone. His body fell on the ground slowly, just as Arien heard the violent sound of thunder. She felt the rain on her face. Then she heard Almáriel's voice in her mind. The noldo was already on the ground, and fighting. The soldiers were taken by surprise; nobody knew Almáriel could fight like that. And they paid dearly for it, as several fell on the ground with every thrust of hers.
-You have to go now, darling- Almáriel told Arien, without saying a word.
'I can't leave without you, nanna...' the child said back. However the horses continued running fast, inflexible and determinate. Arien was becoming quite desperate. Dark clouds veiled the stars, and suddenly a heavy rain was falling, making the wagon sway dangerously.
-I won't stand much longer. Put a good distance between you and these things. And stay away from the elves, if you can. They will not be friendly to you. Now go!
And then there was thunder.
Arien could no longer grasp Almáriel's presence.
The soldiers, mad with fury, came to the youngling as Arien but the horses ran swiftly towards the road ahead of the yard. They were all amazing horses, the best money could've bought.
It was as dark as dark could get. Every ray of moonlight was hidden by a huge mass of dark clouds, and it rained as if heavens were crying with her. Crying for her. And Arien thanked the heavens because the rain would vanish every sign she could possibly leave behind.
So she travelled all night long.
The horses were starting to get tired when it dawned, but the girl couldn't give herself the luxury of stopping for anything. She knew the weak link of the chain. The spot Almáriel was stopped, fifty years ago. The Empire patrols went everywhere around that forest. There was only one option for her.
Arien needed to go southwards, across the Mountain Woods.
"My head's spinning, boy I'm in that day. Feel isolated, don't wanna communicate" Never Ever, All Saints.
Catalos, Dorian. October 23th, 62 T.A.
It was such a pretty day. It was her birthday. And Keptah was coming home.
They had plenty of those days then, as the autumn was not yet giving way to winter. Arien rarely felt the bitter cold of the environment, even as winter was approaching fast, and with it the heavier robes of the natives. This province of the Empire had developed at an amazing rate. The empire spread its arms from east to west and north. But they never went south. Arien knew Almáriel thanked her gods everyday for that.
Poor Almáriel. Away from everything and everybody she loved. Forever exiled. To someone who was once in such a high position, it must be hard. Arien knew the love she had for family was the only thing that kept her Almáriel from fading. The sorrow that would poison her soul to death. Elves can be very fragile.
But she was radiant today. Her hair in a fashion that kept her pointed ears hidden - they were the only ones that knew the truth. Glauco was obliged to make up a fake genealogy that said Almáriel was of numenorean blood to get married with her, forty-five years ago. It was such a common practice throughout the Empire, but he did it only because they were in love, and otherwise they could never be together.
'They still are, after all these years' Arien thought with a sigh, and walked down to the parlour.
Almáriel finally finished telling the children about the War of the Ring and the last Alliance of Men and Elves. Sometimes, it was as if the noldo felt quite uncomfortable to tell this kind of things, but Almáriel went through with it anyway. She said most the elves were rather annoyed about having human help at war, but Sauron was too powerful a foe, and elves had their numbers greatly diminished after such long fighting- first against Melkor, then his lieutenant, Sauron.
Shaking her head with a start, Arien returned to the more pressing matters. It was time to prepare the feast. They were going to make some local plates. Almáriel ran a store at the center of town, of arts and books, of course, and some very nice jewelry. Dorianians just loved them. Glauco's position was very good too, so they lived in a very comfortable place.
'Oh, I'll be damned. They are already seated for lunch. I must stop being late for meals.'
"Care to join?" Her father Glauco was always joking. Arien wondered idly if he ever got angry outside of the battlefield. His hair had started to gray, but it fit him anyway. And she hoped he'd retire quickly - she didn't want to have one of those soldiers from his lituria telling her he had been killed in action. She wanted Glauco to go with them to the hidden kingdom and stay there till the end of his days.
"Absolutely," she said in her polite, shy, metal-melting tone. They held one another's hands and gave thanks for the day. Almáriel had at first protested about such an intimate treatment of the gods, but Glauco would not give in on that. When Andrea finished his prayer, she felt a very familiar tingle. She could feel the presence she had missed so badly, still faint but becoming stronger. Keptah was coming. She felt him.
And then he entered the room. Short, thin, brown-skin and deep, black eyes. With that warm smile that could light the darkest day. Keptah was the healer of the family. And also a very good friend of Glauco's.
"Seems I came in an inappropriate time?" he said, deep rich voice.
"Of course not!" Arien forgot her aristocratic manners and jumped at his neck. Keptah was about two inches shorter than her. "What were things like at the old Alleannia? Got yourself bored to death?"
"Nobody could be bored at Alleannia, dear! But I did miss you. And all of you." He hugged the girl. That would be a scandal, 'servants' treated as family. But Keptah was family.
The rest of lunch occurred in a far better mood, as they talked about that particular city of the Empire. It held a very famous library and University, where Keptah went to renew his knowledge in healing.
The kids were allowed some time after lunch, their nap time. They couldn't keep themselves awake like Almáriel. In the growing phases, the elvish children need much more slumber than an adult would ever do. Almáriel could daydream and be satisfied. But not the children.
Keeping herself safe in the shade, Arien sneaked to Andrea's bed and hugged him. She liked to sleep like that, listening to his heartbeat slowing to a quiet rhythm. Almáriel had complained often about that habit, but in that the siblings were adamant, and would not be corrected.
That's when they heard it. Their heartbeats increased incredibly.
"What do you mean, they are raising questions?" Glauco cried. Arien had never seen - or heard, for that matter- him being that upset.
"You cannot expect them not to become suspicious, Glauco. War is growing fierce. Men are becoming wary. You have been notoriously unwilling to aid in the struggle." Keptah always kept his voice low and smooth.
"Shows he has more sense than the lot of them," Almáriel spat. The amount of pain in her voice scared the children. Realization was beginning to dawn on the younglings. "It is obvious this realm will not stand long. If anything, their endurance will enflame the elves further."
"Do you know anything?" the doctor asked Almáriel, clearly.
"I know my kind will not suffer this offence for long. They shall win back their homeland."
"Well, neither do we. There will be no truce, of that I am certain. Spirits are rather exalted at Alleannia.."
"Hell, no!" Glauco shouted. In the bed, Andrea held Arien tighter. The girl felt something humid on her neck, he was crying. She realised she'd never seen him crying before. She squeezed his hands, comfortingly. And felt her own tears running down her cheek.
"There will be no truce," Almáriel stated, her voice controlled and calm once again. "We must take the children somewhere safe. It is long overdue."
"What do you mean?" Keptah asked, and Glauco whispered something Arien couldn't quite understand.
"We have to leave. Immediately. We have to find the city and see to it that the children will be safe. They are bound to offer shelter to their own kin." Almáriel spoke again. Her mind set, her will on control.
"Are you sure about it, Keptah?" Glauco asked quietly. The healer must have made a sign, because a few seconds later Glauco spoke again. "Then we cannot linger. Our best chance will be after the feast, since everyone will assume we are resting from the festivities and they will take a while before searching for us."
Arien stood up and walked down the hall. The house was big, and had one side opened so Almáriel wouldn't feel confined. They were still there, faces pale in the splendour of the afternoon sun. The wind was blowing so gently. Her brother's hand was cold on her shoulder.
"We need to settle things. Horses, supplies, maps…" Glauco began matter-of-factly. He didn't admit discussion. Everyone busied himself with something, and Arien was left to pack some clothes for all of them. The servants were at the kitchen preparing the meal for her twentieth birthday party.
At the end of the afternoon, all things were packed and ready. The four-horse wagon was settled. Arien went to the bedroom to get dressed. Andrea was flirting lightly with one of his friends at the yard. He never went any further, though. Almáriel had warned them since birth not to bind themselves, that they'd be in the country only for a brief while.
Then the guest started to arrive.
It was the good old ritual: music, congratulations, dancing. Toasts to Arien's health and hugs; all the whilst praying the guests would leave early. The family was anxious to be as far away as possible from there before dawning. The departure of a general would certainly be one hell of a mess. They had better be far when the officers realised.
Arien retired at about half an hour to midnight. The horses were rested, and they had taken the care of covering the wheels and hoofs with straw and leaves- it would make them all the harder to be tracked. At the last minute it was decided to mount them one mile away from the house, so nobody would suspect anything. She had finished putting on the heavy black robes and cloak when she heard cries on the first pavement.
The girl hurried down with a pang in her belly that told something was truly wrong.
It was Marcus, with a handful of soldiers on his side. He was talking something about high betrayal, but who could possibly know they were leaving tonight? Not even our servants had the time to find out!
She'd never forget the look on Glauco's face that night.
Andrea made a very subtle sign towards her, as he could feel her presence in the room. Almáriel took a few steps back in her direction, telling quietly in sindarin to leave the building and try to get hold of some weapon, if the way was clear. Marcus had taken great pleasure in clarifying what the soldiers were doing in the house, how it was decided among the faithful that Glauco's behaviour could only be explained as that of a traitor, including some surreal thesis about the general sneaking off his camp to provide the elves with crucial information about Dorian.
They had been betrayed. Not by any of the servants, and nobody even knew that could possibly want to leave. Marcus, one of Glauco's brothers-in-arms and close friends, thought it necessary to tell the governor of the Province Glauco was a traitor. Which he wasn't, of course, how could they prove it? Marcus was convinced Glauco had turned sides. They'd be executed, as an example. Well, if the governor was kind enough, they would only kill Glauco, and then all belongings would be transferred to Marcus as a reward for his loyalty (Bastard!); and Andrea, Almáriel and Arien would be under his 'protection'. But of course Andrea would be killed also. What murderer lets a grown up son free to avenge the father's death?
Maybe they'd say it was an accident. The whole bloody Empire was filled with these disgusting stuff.
Then Arien realised Keptah's body laid on the floor, lifeless. the servants had tried to take it away, but none of the warriors allowed them to.
Glauco and Andrea were in the middle of the room, unarmed, with a good dozen soldiers around them. Almáriel was halfway to the yard, the open side of the house, and Arien was behind her.
They had not much time.
Almáriel ran to the door as Andrea and Glauco disarmed the closest soldiers, using their swords to kill them. Almáriel returned with one wagon to pick them all, most of the luggage had been sacrificed for the sake of lightness and speed. She had ran quite fast. But now, as the soldiers saw it, they had to die. The fifth and sixth struggled with Glauco, even as Almáriel resolutely picked one of the fallen soldier's swords and felled the eight and ninth with a clean wipe across the abdomen. They had almost escaped when, to their utter terror, the elves heard more of them coming, attracted by the cries of the agonizing knights.
'They're coming! Let's run now!' Almáriel cried in elvish. Glauco was watching their backs as Andrea and Arien ran to the wagons. But there were more of the soldiers there also. Almáriel produced a bow from somewhere and let fly arrow after arrow to keep the path clean. But she would run out of them soon. Marcus was not stupid, after all.
Arien felt an emptying within her, as if a star had burnt out, and cried in agony. Then it got worse. She saw Andrea turning back. He wasn't going to go. He stood there helping clean the path, as Glauco was dead.
"No! Come with us!" - Arien cried back. But he was stubborn. He would not survive long, alone there with only one sword and twenty knights around him. The women jumped at the wagon and turned it to be ready for a desperate withdrawn.
And then the inevitable happened. He was hit. Hard. Almáriel drove the horses out to the road, even as Arien cried hysterically on her side. Then she pushed the reigns firmly into the child's hands, and with an unnatural, strong whipping on the horses, made the beasts take the wagon far.
And then he was gone. His body fell on the ground slowly, just as Arien heard the violent sound of thunder. She felt the rain on her face. Then she heard Almáriel's voice in her mind. The noldo was already on the ground, and fighting. The soldiers were taken by surprise; nobody knew Almáriel could fight like that. And they paid dearly for it, as several fell on the ground with every thrust of hers.
-You have to go now, darling- Almáriel told Arien, without saying a word.
'I can't leave without you, nanna...' the child said back. However the horses continued running fast, inflexible and determinate. Arien was becoming quite desperate. Dark clouds veiled the stars, and suddenly a heavy rain was falling, making the wagon sway dangerously.
-I won't stand much longer. Put a good distance between you and these things. And stay away from the elves, if you can. They will not be friendly to you. Now go!
And then there was thunder.
Arien could no longer grasp Almáriel's presence.
The soldiers, mad with fury, came to the youngling as Arien but the horses ran swiftly towards the road ahead of the yard. They were all amazing horses, the best money could've bought.
It was as dark as dark could get. Every ray of moonlight was hidden by a huge mass of dark clouds, and it rained as if heavens were crying with her. Crying for her. And Arien thanked the heavens because the rain would vanish every sign she could possibly leave behind.
So she travelled all night long.
The horses were starting to get tired when it dawned, but the girl couldn't give herself the luxury of stopping for anything. She knew the weak link of the chain. The spot Almáriel was stopped, fifty years ago. The Empire patrols went everywhere around that forest. There was only one option for her.
Arien needed to go southwards, across the Mountain Woods.