Chapter Fourteen –
To Make a Vow, To Spin a Dream
It has failed, were the words whispered at the Ebony Court; he has failed her, and now she has summoned him, and who knows what can possibly happen now? He has failed her, and the plan has gone to ashes, scattered to the wind. He has failed…
When the Ebony Queen gave the summons to her Dark Knight, Jaedin of Sytherria, rumor of what would then come to pass went out through the entire land. Whispers of her great anger, of her intended lenience, of the punishment that waited for the dreaded lord of the arid land in the west, all traveled in ripples through the court, for none dared to speak them aloud, and they must, instead, wait to see what the Queen herself would say to he who served her.
Red was the dawn on the day that the black dragon appeared in the skies over the Black City; and red would that day end, in blood-tinted flame of the skies, in sunset…
* * *
'You had given me your vow, Jaedin of Sytherria; you swore to me that you would take her into your domain as your captive, and there keep her…and now she is beyond us. Tell me: how has this come to pass? How is it that her powers won over yours?'
Sometimes, it was indeed more of a matter of winning more than it was a matter of giving in – and Jaedin swore now a new oath to himself, that he would not give in to this. Summoned before the throne of his Lady, he was forced to give an account for himself, of the story of what things had come to pass within the walls of his Dranthiris-Ankhar.
However, no one but the Dark Lord himself knew, there were as many black shadows and lies in his story, as there was stark, uninhibited truth. Knowing his Lady for who and what she was, he shrewdly held back most of the darkest details for his own consciousness; indeed, who truly wanted to be a sordid voyeur…
He gave the report, but stated, however – contemptuously – that had the Queen come to join him at his palace with all due haste, the captive's escape might have been prevented. When questioned on just how he, the Dark Lord of old, had allowed a simple child to evade him, he gave the arrogant reply – perhaps he had meant to do so, having tired of remaining in his realm, bored with the tedium of watching over her. It was like being a nursemaid, he retorted.
But the Queen was not so easily put down.
If he could not be trusted to handle a single seventeen-year-old girl properly, then perhaps he ought to rethink his position…
Fuming with rage, Jaedin would have instantly left the court, that very afternoon – the Queen called him back, with a command that he should appear before her, privately, in her chambers. The entire court was already laughing at him, and his humiliation could be no greater. He mastered it, nevertheless, hiding his smoldering fury behind the silver-gray veneer of his dark, unreadable eyes, and followed his Lady into her inner rooms.
There, Zaschaea – the Ebony Queen, mistress of the Black City, and rising power in the Dark Realm – indicated that the doors should be closed behind them. Moving across the room, her back to him, her long, silken train sweeping with a snake-like hissing over the blue-black stone floor, she was silent: deep in thought.
Jaedin stood before the doors, watching her, and waiting.
Finally, "You do not give fault to yourself for the destruction of our plan then, Ríth-Anstarinaor, my Dark Knight?"
He narrowed his gray eyes.
What do you want? he mentally shouted at her. What do you want me to do? Tell me!
Zaschaea now turned around: her flame-lit eyes coming to focus on him, and her black-red lips moved, forming a faint smirk, in her alabaster face. She looked on the tall, slender but well-muscled figure of her most favored and most powerful servant with the air of an indulgent, slightly amused parent. At the moment, actually, it seemed to be just such a scene: the look on Jaedin's face, and his entire demeanor, was one of an arrogant, disdainful adolescent, as he stood facing her, accused of an incredible transgression of command. Not for the first time, did he now wonder if his dark queen could somehow hear his thoughts…
"You found her once," she told him: speaking with slow, exulting power in her tone. "You were able to track and spirit away the princess of the faeries – now, Jaedin, my Dark Knight, I will give you a new task, and it is one that I think you will not much like…"
His gray eyes stared blankly out at her, rimmed with inner dangerousness.
"You will travel to the realm of the accursed faeries, and there, you will once more seek out our fair princess…"
And this time, you will not let her escape.
* * *
Meanwhile, far across both land and sea, in the white-walled palace of Avalennon, there was anything but its usual peace in the air. The shining figures of its faery residents moved through the hours of the day: tense, waiting silence abiding in every one of them.
Their princess had been returned to them, after a great ordeal, but there was not a one of them who did not fully know the truth—
This had only been the beginning of a new peril…
In the High Council, every seat was filled, and no one representative or delegate was absent; they had all traveled, from far and near, at the command of the Lord and Lady of the White Realm. Orandor and Vahlada now sought to set about coming up with a means to protect their beloved child, Elowyn, from further attacks of the darkness, for she was, indeed, too cherished a spirit and entity in their world to risk the loss of.
Without her, there was no hope that their nemesis would ever be defeated. Without her, they would be lost, and so would their world.
Now, Orandor looked out over the ranks of the fair people who had gathered in the council that day. His sharp, piercing gray eyes were filled with the grief and tiredness of many hours spent in concern and dread fear at the thought of losing his precious child, and yet he remained tall and proud before his people: a symbol of wisdom and bravery. Beside him, Vahlada was seated: bright and beautiful as the dawn in her throne of twining gold and pearls, but in her cornflower blue eyes there was an air of discontent – she would have very much liked to be with her daughter, rather than here, mired in hours of council debates.
He knew her thought, and felt it in his own heart – he wished the same.
But the Council had to be held.
Clearing his mind then of all else, he rose to his feet and gestured that the Council be called to order. This having been done, the faery and Elven delegates seated themselves, and Orandor spoke to them, his voice ringing clear and compelling in the silence of the room.
"Long have we warred with the forces of evil, the armies and various captains, of the Dark Realm, but never before has such a threat been faced, as is now in our midst. I summoned you here today, people of the Light, to speak of this – the prophecy of World's End."
Then, he began to recite the lines that the ancient oracle had spoken.
One raven's feather,
Black as the night;
A single white opal,
Shedding beams of its light;
A tongue of red flame,
Burning brightly and true;
A teardrop of crystal,
Purest in hue.
All bound together in one great crest,
But two must join above all the rest.
Raven and white are destined to blend;
With light, good shall prosper,
And evil will end.
A ripple of whispers went through the chamber, which Orandor stilled with a slight gesture of one hand. Looking out at them with grave knowledge in his face, he spoke again.
"That is some of the prophecy, but not all – and it speaks of the four entities who will join together in trial and triumph, before the end of the world…or part of it. These four are people, but we know of only one who is among them."
He paused, and then said the words that all the White Realm knew.
"This one is Elowyn: blood-daughter of Diarnan and Lhanallis, who were slain in dread battle with the forces of the Dark Realm; now daughter by adoption of Orandor and Vahlada. The Ebony Queen, who makes her dwelling beyond the fiery mountains of Neldyr, killed Diarnan and Lhanallis: seeking to end the life of their child."
Another pause; Vahlada stood and continued, her voice bell-like and tinged with grief.
"Elowyn was fated," said the Lady of the White Realm, "by the prophecy of an oracle many thousands of years before her birth, to be the herald of the end of all evil; this is why the Queen ended the lives of her birth-mother and birth-father, and this is why she even now seeks her out. The Dark Lord of Sytherria was sent, having returned to his true form after millenniums of exile in the form of a wraith, to capture her, and this he did – he took our princess, my daughter, away from us, intending to hand her over to his Queen."
"Then what are we to do now?" was the question raised.
Orandor and Vahlada exchanged glances. They had long known, in their hearts, that this day would come. The darkness could not be held back forever…
"She has returned to us, through the goodness of unknown Fate," Orandor replied, evenly; his hand, which clasped with Vahlada's, trembled almost imperceptibly, however. "But now we must endeavor to protect her at all costs – she cannot remain in this place, for the Dark Lord now knows where she is. We must keep her hidden from him…"
And so, it was decided in the High Council of the White Realm that day, that Princess Elowyn would be taken from Avalennon to the court of the Elves, in the lands across the Sea: there, the noble Prince Skye and Princess Odessa-Gadriel ruled, and there, Elowyn would be hidden amongst the fair forms of her Elven kin.
This was done with all due haste and secrecy. Elowyn was removed from the castle of her parents and taken to a ship in a hidden, faery-controlled harbor. Tears streaming down her pale, cold face, her hair whisking about her like shining streamers of gold, the young princess stood, in the darkness: her features and figure shrouded and completely hidden by a cloak and hood, at the bow of the ship.
And here, she watched the beloved, shimmering shores of the lands that she knew so well, the White Realm itself, disappear from sight, hidden from her in the swirling ocean mists…
* * *
Night had fallen: quiet and serenity lay in a haze over Iordania, the ivory palace of Prince Skye and Princess Odessa-Gadriel.
The Elves were a noble, proud race, capable of great bravery and power in war, and boundless wisdom and generosity in peace; but, for all the stories of their stoic outtake on all of life, they were also quite high-spirited and warm-hearted beings. Their banquets, picnics, cotillions, and other amusements lasted for a thousand years and a day, and anyone who happened to attend them found afterwards that they had never had more fun.
And the prince and princess greatly loved their young ward, Elowyn.
The two, and every inhabitant of their realm, did all that they could to make her happy and content while she was there. Skye and Odessa-Gadriel had made the decision, between the two of them, that she would not be allowed to think that she had been exiled from her home, and that they would do their best to ensure that her stay was one of both amusement and pleasure.
Elowyn was, of course, really quite happy to be staying with them.
Although she missed her parents and Avalennon greatly, the sea-trip to Elvendome had been exciting and picturesque, and she loved the prince, princess, and their family of five absolutely adorable children to no end. Also, her cousin, Orlando, and his wife, Arielle, came to stay at the palace with them during that time, bringing with them their own four precocious children, including the newest: a month-old baby girl.
It was an utter thrill for her to spend time with the people that she held so dear to her heart, and she was made even happier by the news that one day, very soon, her uncle Brendan would be arriving, with Sala and Robbie 'for company'.
But this night, as she lay in her bed, wakeful even as the moon climbed slowly, steadily, towards the zenith of the sky…
Memories flashed through her head: pictures of a life that couldn't, it seemed, have been hers – fleeting recollections of some great secret, a forbidden connection between two very different souls, and, more stark and ominous than anything else, the figure of a tall, dark person, who held out a hand to her; she wanted to reach him. The sensation of soft lips brushing, like velvet, against hers: an elegant voice full of dry wit and intelligence saying her name, calling her endearments in some tongue that she did not know, hands that sought hers, wound about her and drew her into an embrace which she could not and would not escape…
Eyes of gray: silver, tinged with violet, stormy as the clouds that gathered on the horizon, just above the churning sea…
A voice, in her head: 'You enjoyed it, didn't you, Princess? You enjoyed it…until you remembered…and yet, still, even now, you long for the darkness again…you knew your truest desires in that moment, that moment that we shared: together touching the depths of true passion. Don't you remember, Princess? You desired me as I desired you, in that moment – our souls merged as one: knowing only each other, for those few precious seconds…
Princess…
I would give you anything – anything in the world, my life's blood itself – anything, do you hear me? I would do whatever you wanted…I could even make you forget…'
'Forget?' her mind questioned, seeking the owner of that voice, turning about every which way in order to look for him.
'Everything…'
'No.'
'Don't run from me, Princess; don't turn away. We are bound together now – forever. You remember – that moment didn't mean nothing, and you know it. It meant much more than you can imagine; we are tied together now by a bond that will not be broken: not by time, not by struggle, not by hatred, the light nor the darkness. We are one. You are mine now…you are in me, as I am in you…'
'NO!'
"NO!"
Elowyn shot up in bed, eyes wide and frame stiff as winter-ice; she was half-awake and half-asleep, wandering in a delirium, a nightmare brought on by memories so horrible and dark that she could not escape them, disturbing and familiar, confusing and awful, mind-breaking. The door to her room was suddenly pushed wide open and several figures came through it, rushing over to her, as her shrieks had split the night air.
She felt hands on her shoulders, heard voices speaking to her – voices she knew – "Elowyn, Elowyn, it's all right, be still, it's all right," they said, "It was just a dream, be still, be still, be still; have no fear, it was just a dream…"
Just a dream.
But she shook her head, gently putting those gentle, comforting hands away from her, and pulled back from the people whom she knew and loved so well. "No," she whispered: broken and haunted. "It wasn't just a dream; he's still there, he always will be – he's inside my mind now, and he knows it…I know it…he won't let me go."
The slender, cool fingers of the Elven princess found their way through the darkness and ran themselves reassuringly, lovingly, along her flushed cheek. The other figures that stood behind her, as she perched on the edge of the bed next to the stricken young princess, were still and patient: a silent support and strength in the shadows, which had been so threatening. Elowyn looked up; the emerald green eyes of Odessa-Gadriel looked back into hers.
"It was a dream, sweet one," she was told. "He won't come for you – and no darkness will take you, not when you have friends to stand guard around you."
"We're here," murmured Prince Skye's voice. "We're here, and we love you, Elowyn. Never forget that – never."
Elowyn looked at all of them: one by one. They would try so hard to help her; they would do anything to save her, anything at all, if they could…but would it be enough?
Could she let them sacrifice themselves – everything – for her?
She nodded, tried to smile. Weakness.
"I know…" she whispered.
Just a dream…
* * *
A/N: But is it really? Or is Elowyn destined to be yet more tormented by her memories – and by reality? There is only one way for us all to find out…read on! (And reviews are, as you all well know, greatly appreciated.) ^_~