Chapter Twenty-Four –
Promises That We Will Never Break
Elvendome was occasionally given to odd quirks in its weather, it was well known throughout the lovely sphere of Evyrworld. What had been a perfectly sunny, warm afternoon could very quickly turn into a sudden burst of pouring rain, descending from fluffy, strangely white clouds as the sun shone brightly, the sky blue as ever.
The day that Elowyn went forth to seek Jaedin in the forest – and found him – exactly this happened. Out of the blue, it began to rain so hard that the fat, large droplets managed to penetrate through even the thick branches of the trees to pour down onto the forest floor, cooling the air and shrouding the woods with mist.
Sala, Robbie, and Brendan had taken note of Elowyn's disappearance from the village's immediate vicinity shortly after she had left. They knew her only too well, it seemed.
A word from Guildar, however, stopped them from going out after her – he told them, sagely, that it appeared that this was the princess and the Dark Lord's affair, a matter which only they two must be left to deal with. Elowyn's friends thought, unhappily, that it was merely Jaedin's concern, and not Elowyn's, but Guildar counseled them to remain in the village. The two would return, he said, in time: after they had sorted out whatever it was that they were most likely now discussing.
Well, the three faeries reluctantly assented, and allowed themselves to be persuaded into joining Guildar on a tour of the village.
There was, he had told them the night before, something rather interesting in the city's historical archives, which he had thought they might like to see…
Shortly after noon, two dripping wet but seemingly composed individuals appeared at the outskirts of the Ping and Hobknob village.
The taller of the two, a masculine figure draped all in thick black velvet, had his arm draped carefully about the slender, delicate shoulders of his companion – a lovely, golden-haired girl with alluring eyes of spring-green – with his cloak swept about her, shielding her from the rain. The girl's hair was utterly sodden with rain, hanging in loose, softly undulating threads about her pretty face. But, in spite of her obviously soaked state, she seemed content: her eyes were serene and unworried, her features untainted by fear or doubt. Her escort was less open with his emotions, but there was an air of calm about him that could have told even the most casual viewer – a peace had been made.
Elowyn, of course, had no idea how long this peace – this treaty, between herself and the Dark Lord – would last, but she was willing to believe in it for the moment.
* * *
"You know your past now," she had said to him, gazing up into his eyes, with her head tilted far back so that she could see fully into his fair face. "Will you tell me about it someday?"
And he had nodded, smiling softly at her: his expression tainted only ever so slightly with a gentle sadness that he had not thought he could know.
"Someday, yes," he had replied.
To these words, she had cocked her head to one side, eyeing him.
"When?" she had asked.
He had shaken his head, still smiling that same, strangely soft and gentle smile; then, the smile had left his face, leaving his expression wistful, and – if she had looked – tender, and he had reached out with one hand, letting it cup her face on one side. She had leaned: willingly, unknowingly, into his touch.
This had shocked him, although he had been careful not to show it, and he had suddenly realized, then, just what had changed between the two of them.
He had always known, from the first moment that he had seen her, that he would have never been able to bear handing her over to the Queen – he couldn't have done it. And, much as it seemed otherwise, even now, he would have never done anything to hurt her.
But he would have done anything to have her…this too had changed. He would not admit it to anyone, but things had altered, become vastly different. Even after he had promised to her, before, that he would do as she had asked him to, he had had his own agenda. Dying, and at the hands of his own former sovereign, who had betrayed him, had not been something that he had desired, in the remotest degree. He had known, clearly, what he had wanted – revenge, and then to be with his princess forever, whatever he had to do to attain this.
Now, though…
Now he did not know what he wanted.
And so he had simply continued to look deeply into the shimmering, sparkling depths of the eyes of the faery princess who had played his heartstrings like a lyre, and not moved.
"Someday soon," he had told her.
They left it at that.
* * *
As they walked into the village once again, side-by-side, Jaedin felt his heart – his mind – more at peace than ever before, and yet he doubted himself, still. Not knowing what he really wanted, now, was far from comforting, and he knew full well that many things, some truly very far from pleasant, awaited him in the future. He had not undergone a change of heart – well, not a radical one, at least.
He had been betrayed; this was true. He had made a promise, and he would not break it; this, also, was true. He knew what he would have to do, in order to survive, and he knew that his aspirations remained the same. But he would not do anything to hurt Elowyn.
When a knight retracts his service from his Queen, he must go on to someone else – he seeks, instead, the Princess. And this, I now do.
He glanced at Elowyn, shortly, as she walked at his side. She wasn't looking at him at that moment, her gaze focused – instead – on the village that they were approaching, drawing ever nearer to, and he realized that she had only decided to trust him, and only slightly, at that.
No matter what face she put on, he knew that she couldn't totally give him her faith. He didn't deserve it – what, with everything that he had done to her. He counted the offenses off in his mind, silently and dispassionately going over the list: abduction from her family, threats, unwanted advances that were more than mere flirtations, breaking into her mind, twisting the faint, glowing desire that she held in her heart for true, romantic love into a raging desire for him and his lips…oh, it was far more than even those.
Racking up the sins, is what they call it, I believe, he thought, darkly.
But – perhaps – if he 'behaved himself', as they'd come to term it, and proved himself to be a worthwhile aid in her endeavors, with her friends at her side…perhaps he would yet have a chance to win her, and also win his freedom. To gain what he desired.
'Ware, Dark One, he told himself, sternly. Do not attach too many lines to this act that you are performing for her, for them. It may even now recoil on you, to the utter ruin of all.
Strange – how his thoughts were now taking a plural turn, instead of the customary 'I-me-my' pattern. Perhaps his conscience really was beginning to get the better of him.
Yet, he still was a Dark Lord.
And ever would be.
He followed, wordlessly, as Elowyn led him – by the hand – up the flight of steps, around the winding stairway of ash-wood, and onto one of the platforms that composed the out-of-doors space in the village. As they rounded the bend that the tree's enormous trunk created on the platform, the Dark Lord and the Princess came face to face with her three friends. The five halted, and stood still, facing one another in silence. Sizing one another up.
Finally, someone spoke. It was Robbie, surprisingly.
"You came back," he said, shortly. Matter-of-fact.
Jaedin nodded, without emotion.
"I made a promise," he replied.
That was all they needed, it seemed. Robbie nodded, acknowledging his words, and the three parted, allowing Elowyn and Jaedin to join their number as they turned to walk back towards the long, wide building that the three of them had just exited from. Elowyn, Jaedin noted with an almost amused and certainly intrigued interest, had not yet let go of his hand; and they walked along in this way, with no comment from anyone on it.
Brendan was, meanwhile, explaining the forays of the three faeries from that afternoon, during Jaedin and Elowyn's absence, to his niece.
"You heard, before, about the Pings and Hobknobs' rather interesting history – they've always lived in this forest, Guildar told us, but he revealed something to Robbie, Sala, and I this afternoon that makes the story seem slightly incongruent," he said, pausing before he went on: "Apparently, they haven't always lived here."
Elowyn raised her eyebrows, in a light air of questioning.
"And am I permitted to know the story behind this?" she asked.
Brendan merely waved her and Jaedin towards the domed-roof building, dismissing any ability – on his part – to answer that particular question.
"Guildar is inside," he said, in way of a reply. "He'll be wanting to see you – ask him then. I think that you'll find what he has to tell you downright mystifying."
Then Brendan gestured to Robbie and Sala, and they went off with him, leaving Jaedin and Elowyn alone together on the platform. Sala – however – before the three disappeared out of sight around the corner of the tree, glanced over her shoulder and mouthed to Elowyn four words when Jaedin wasn't looking. Elowyn couldn't exactly tell what she was saying, but she could easily guess – We need to talk.
She smiled, wryly, and nodded. Then, she turned to the vampyre and lifted an eyebrow.
"Shall we?" she inquired.
Jaedin seemed slightly bemused at the moment, but he did reply.
"Indeed; we shall…" he murmured, and wound her arm through his, taking them off towards the building where the Ping governor awaited them, with his story.
* * *
Upon entering the room together, Jaedin and Elowyn abruptly halted: staring about themselves in shock – shock and recognition, on his part, and shock and memory on hers. Before them, they now saw what appeared to be an enormous, long gallery of artfully crafted and unfamiliar armor and weaponry.
Curving, double-edged swords, star-shaped switchblades, crossbows, spears, maces, and many, many more lined from the walls: intricately detailed with jade-green, gold, silver, and ash-wood, while straight rows of flawlessly assembled armor stood in front. Above their heads, from the ceiling, hung many pennants and standards, all in the same colours as the armor and weapons. So engrossed were the two in their staring at the room, they did not notice Guildar until he spoke.
"Intriguing, aren't they?"
Elowyn wrested herself from her mind-numbing amazement and responded to him, still unable to take her eyes from the walls, however.
"Guildar," she breathed, "It's amazing."
Jaedin nodded to her words. He did not look as impressed as she – rather, he appeared more investigative and circumspect, although he hid the darkness of those emotions in his eyes very well. Then again, he had trained himself to do so, over many hundreds of thousands of years.
"We were informed that you would tell us a story about this place – about your people, as a whole," he said, slowly. "May I dare to presume that we shall now hear of it?"
Guildar nodded. He gestured towards the chamber: a movement that indicated that they might make themselves free to walk about, and examine things as they wished. Elowyn and Jaedin – without even realizing it – let their hands slip apart, and went in opposite directions further into the room. Elowyn stared up at a suit of armor, her mermaid's eyes scanning deeply and penetratingly over its sleek, long curvatures and joints. Guildar began to tell his story, and they listened as they continued to look around.
"Once – long ago – the world was very different," he said, slowly. "We were very different. For as long as I, or any of those like me can recall, we have been here: in this place – but we were not originally of it."
Jaedin felt an eerie, stomach-twisting feeling go through himself when the Ping had said those words; his gray eyes intensified in their scanning of a sword that hung on the wall, until it almost seemed that he wished to burn through it with the mere power of his gaze. Elowyn and Guildar, however, did not notice.
I have heard of such a thing before…
Meanwhile, Elowyn was speaking to Guildar.
"Go on," she said, in a soft voice.
Guildar shrugged, brushing off the seriousness of the moment, and smiled at her.
"There is not much more to say, Princess," he told her. "From what we know, this forest has not always been our home, and we have not always been as we are now. This room," he gestured widely at the space, "Is all that is left of that distant past, which none now remain that remember. This room, and the promise that was made to us by an oracle."
Elowyn felt her throat tighten, and her heart began to pound.
They were in familiar territory now.
Oracles, she thought, feeling as if the ground underneath her feet had suddenly become very unsteady, untrustworthy – Ever oracles. When will the prophecies fulfill themselves, and end?
"What promise were you given, Guildar?"
Little, almond-shaped eyes looked up at her: seeming to read her.
"That we would be called upon, ere the world ended, and that our help would be sought," was the reply: a laugh accompanied it. "Though what can a race so small do to help anything – or anyone? Our place in this world, Princess," he continued, as she looked about to protest, "Seems to be one of cheering people, when we do see them, and creating mirth. It is not a bitter thing to know, you see, but there will always be questions."
"Guildar," Elowyn said, with heartfelt emotion in her tone. "Everyone here has been an incredible help to us, already; you should know that. Long after we have left this place, we shall be far into your debt. We can never repay you for your kindness, believe me."
There was a silence in the sunlit room after that, as all three of its inhabitants – the faery princess, the diminutive Ping governor, and the dark, imposing figure of the vampyre who stood nearby them – let the words of the conversation sink into them. Elowyn bit her bottom lip, gently, and stared at the intricate swirling patterns on the silvery blade of a long, almost sword-like knife.
The whole scene before her in the room, her very detachment from reality itself as she withdrew into her own thoughts, seemed like a dream. And yet, when she stretched out a hand, to run her fingertip along the blade of the knife, she could feel the thin, razor-sharp edge. If she had pressed harder, she knew that she would have instantly been awarded with pain, and a thin slash in her skin. But, as it was, she was treading a very thin line…
Thought was all that remained to hang onto.
For all of her life, she had been haunted by the knowledge that one day – somehow, somewhere – she would be the one to spell the Dark Realm's doom. Of course, it still remained esoteric and quite baffling to her how she would do this: she, a single, young princess who had only her friends and her wits to rely on, sometimes. How could it have been decreed by the Fates that she would end the reign of evil in the world…?
And then there was Jaedin.
If she had been asked exactly what her…relationship…to him was, she could not have easily found an answer within herself. She would have writhed uneasily against such a question, and would have been – and would have been frightened: yes, frightened, by not only the gravity of that so seemingly simple inquiry, but the things that remained in her own heart. What could she tell someone – someone like Sala, for example – about how she felt? The Dark Lord was disarmingly attractive: yes, to say the very least. He was also very dangerous, and very capable of ending her world as it was at any given moment.
Yet he had told her, again and again, of the bond that he felt between himself and her, and she knew that never, in all of the countless years of his existence, had he ever given voice to such feelings before. He was the epitome of evil, and yet he had not directly hurt her, in all of the time that she had known him. He desired her, she knew, but – in spite of this – he simply refused to do anything that would serve to endanger or wound her, in a literal or figurative sense. Questions, questions. His presence in her life made it all the more complicated.
Unless…
Unless that which makes your life more complicated can also make it crystal clear, her mind told her. Sometimes the one thing that you fear the very most can also be the one thing that can save you, from everything. From anything.
Was it madness, this thought?
She glanced at Jaedin.
Madness? Perhaps. Sanity? Perhaps that, as well. Madness and sanity had not been unknown to combine, under certain circumstances.
Then the room drew her attention again, and she turned her gaze upon Guildar.
Whatever the questions were that she had now, she couldn't go out searching for them. Some things could never be found, when one searched for them. One had only to wait, and trust that all would be revealed, sometime. Guildar and his race – the Pings and the Hobknobs – knew nothing of their true origins. All that they had was a string of words from an ancient prophecy made by an oracle, and a room full of strange weapons and armor, and yet they did not writhe in anxiety over it. They merely trusted, and lived their little lives.
She had considerably more than that – she had a family, she had friends who loved her, and at least some idea of what her future course would turn towards…or so everything seemed to tell her. In the end, it appeared that what it all would come down to was trust.
Trust, and faith.
And the quest awaited them.
She took a deep, silent breath: feeling the worry and doubt being cleansed from her very being, cleared away like cobwebs and dust from a belfry, flying like bats at the approach of light, and turned back towards her companions.
"Thank you – for everything that you have done for us, Guildar," she said, with solemn sincerity. "We shall always remember you for it…but we have a quest to complete now, and we must turn our course towards our intended path, once again."
"You have a quest, and the fate of the world hangs in the balance," Guildar said, with a little fox-like smile. "I know. Before you leave, however…"
He clapped his little paws together, and instantly – again – several Pings and Hobknobs entered the room through the wide doorway, to stand at attention: waiting for him to give them some order, apparently. Guildar, meanwhile, went over to the wall and, with some effort, lifted the long knife that she had been eyeing from its hangings, presenting it to her with an attempted flourish that nearly sent him toppling over.
"Perhaps we can send along some things that will afford you some aid on your journey," he told her; then he added, almost jestingly, "Or at least that will give you more help than they will anyone here, draped on the walls collecting dust. I think you'll find several of the items within this place rather useful…"
Elowyn nodded, abstractedly, as she took the knife from him: holding it up in one hand before her: gazing fixatedly at the gleaming blade, upon which was etched scrolling comets and bursting stars. It was one of a pair, she now noticed: a pair composed of two long, slender knives that slipped smoothly into a fine leather pack that was accented with colours of pale sage green, deep, vibrant sapphire blue, and gold, in a pattern of peacock feathers, layer upon layer.
Such a gift, it was obvious, would be the envy of hundreds of mortal collectors. She let the corner of her mouth etch into itself, sending Guildar a bit of an almost wry little smile.
"I must say you've matched me perfectly with what weaponry I tend to choose, Master Guildar," she said, in light mock-seriousness. "Now, tell me: is there anything that we can ever do for you, in return?"
Guildar motioned to the Pings and Hobknobs who stood behind him before replying, and Elowyn watched as they began to move about the room, selecting pieces from here and there: preparing them for travel with the faeries and their guide. Then he turned to her.
"Well, there is one thing that you might do…" he said.
Elowyn nodded. "Name it," she told him, "And I will do all that I can to comply."
"In that long ago time," Guildar then told her, all in a rush, as if he was somehow concerned of either putting her askance towards him or for some other, less discernable reason, "When we were not what we are now, and were not where we are now…we served the Lady. The Lady of the Fates, the Star-Maiden. But then, she was taken from us, and the vast darkness came over the world, and we were told that, on the day that she was reunited with her lover, and the forces of light and dark collided, we would once again be rendered her servants."
He paused.
"If you ever hear of anything like this coming to be…would you mind returning here to tell us? Not many other people frequent our forests to tell us the news of the world outside this place."
And Elowyn smiled, nodding. Such trust…
"Yes: I will return, Guildar – we will return."
Then, she re-positioned the blade between her hands again, flattening the palm of the free one against the smooth, gleaming metal surface, and stood absolutely still for a moment.
Suddenly, without warning, she whirled around and brought the blade down through the air: there was a great ringing noise then, and a flash of sparks, as it came to meet another blade – of a sword. Elowyn gazed into the eyes of the sword-bearer: jade depths shooting across time and space to meet those of silver. Then she spoke, without looking away.
"And we will never break a promise."
* * *
A/N: I dedicate this chapter to those of you who have been delicately hinting – and sometimes not so delicately hinting *winks* that I should include some romance between our Dark Lord and his Princess. Just charming, isn't it? Well, I hope you think so. Anyways. Oh, and this is Kates herself updating this time, and not the tyrannical and very evil duo of Shinzon and Jaedin, who are in BIG TROUBLE right now for the little trick they pulled last time around.
*glares at boys*
Kates: You should be locked in my little sisters' room with only the Barbie dolls and multiple-loop recordings of as many boy bands as possible right now, you know that don't you?
Getting on though…
Thank you all for your many kind and helpful reviews; I appreciate them all to the greatest extent!
DarkSlytherinAngel: Hello, dahling! I hope you're going to update your story soon…anywho. *laughs* Yes, the Pings and Hobknobs are a bit like the Ewoks/Rivendell elves, although I think I'd consider them more like Lothlorien elves, perhaps…but yes…
Riene: You always leave such marvelous reviews; I can't thank you enough. ^_^ I too enjoy adding in little scenes with past characters, beloved as they are to me…I think you can tell exactly how I feel there. As for our Lord Valdeth of several chapters ago…well, yes, he was meant to be quite the image. Jaedin would not have it any other way. Infuriatingly lovable boy…he does enjoy a good show of the dramatic side.
GryffindorGal3: Hehe, you'd better watch out, my dear, or Jaedin will leap off of your computer and come to life, if you say such things! He hasn't been known to do such…drastic…things before. I try very hard to make my characters real, and when I hear such feedback as yours, it tells me that I am doing an accurate job. Thank you. ^_^
Rosethorn: Jaedin wants to know exactly what "snog" means – I wouldn't tell him though, just for my own sake. *eyes Jaedin uneasily* Or Shinzon for that matter. Hmm. As for the sparkle paint…erm, well, you're going to have to ask Erik about that. Or check out one of my Phantom phiclets…I believe I discussed it in my Valentine's Day writing. He rather resents my bringing it up though. And DON'T YOU DARE, under any circumstances whatsoever, period, let Gavin out. I have enough to deal with between Shinzon and Jaedin's shenanigans; don't even start with me…
Grayfalcon: No matter when or how you review, I will always enjoy hearing anything you have to say. Well, almost anything. Granted, I'd be inclined to feel just a tad bit hurt if you told me, "OH MY GOSH, I HATE THIS!" But so far, you haven't yet, so everything's just lovely. As usual. Now, to be serious, I've much enjoyed writing about Jaedin's nasty side – as most of my male characters before are more or less nice guys, although they have their share of angst from time to time – but getting into his more or less good qualities has been interesting as well. The thing about truly intriguing villains all comes down to this – they're not out and out bad people. They are complex, and this is what I hope Jaedin has been to my readers. And believe me, I am bringing on the romance…be sure to stick around for upcoming chapters, because you all will be getting a liberal dose of it quite soon now.
Pabo: Yes! I feel the exact same way – a bad guy as the hero is a nice break from the norm. All the way. But I also have nothing against the addictive guilty pleasure through-and-through sweet stuff either…
Now, on to the next chapter!