Chapter Thirty-Seven –
Debates in the World's Council
It seemed as if they were now in the most beautiful of tropical glades: a valley framed by gently sloping but tall hills on all sides. Around them, closer, were enormous blooming flowers of truly extraordinary colours, shapes, and sizes, and dense green foliage that shimmered wetly, like emeralds. There were dozens and dozens of multi-tiered waterfalls all about, which leant to the coolness of the air that blew about them. And above it all, in the perfect crystalline blue sky, shone the white sun, with magnificent white clouds rolling briskly over it.
Could this be real?
Or was it some vision?
"No two people may see the same vision," Arin said softly, as Elladine and Gavin exchanged glances. Then, without another word, Arin swiftly dropped into a kneeling position, hovering deftly over the grass. He put out a hand to touch the turf at his feet. After a moment, he came up with a strange, unfathomable look of wonder and awe in his ice blue eyes.
"It's alive," he said, hardly seeming to believe his own words. "Alive like no other land that I've ever been in before. It's as if each blade of grass...each flower blossom..."
He trailed off into silence, shaking his head.
"It's real. And there is magic in it..."
"But no magic like any of that which we have been met with ever before," commented Gavin; he scanned his gray eyes across the still valley. There was no sound but the wind's whispering, water flowing, and – occasionally – a bird's call from within the mountainous forest. They were, it seemed, alone.
Elladine gave an involuntary shudder.
She had dealt with many kinds of magic and oddities before – but never anything like this. She could not, like her brother and her husband, get a sense of whether the magic that was swirling in the air around them, thrumming in the ground at their feet, was good or evil.
But it was powerful: that she knew.
And it had brought them here.
Suddenly, Arin's hand went to his sword's hilt, and with a ring of steel, he drew it: pushing her behind him at the same time. It took her a moment to realize what had caused this. Following the intense glare of her husband's narrowed eyes, she looked to the nearest stand of trees, and felt her blood run cold when she saw five – no: six, seven, eight – shadowy figures approaching through the undergrowth. Gavin likewise unsheathed his sword, cueing Robbie to do the same. Protectively, the three men stepped in front of the queen and her two daughters.
Then Arin called out, in faery—
"Ho there! Stand, and name yourselves! Are you friend or foe of the White Realm?"
There was a pause, and then a startlingly familiar, but wholly unexpected, voice replied to Arin's sally—
"Arin? Arin of Lærelin? Is that you?"
"That depends on who you are!" Arin retorted, without giving ground, although he was almost entirely certain that he knew the voice.
Still, was his thought, if we could all become tangled up in some mysterious power that can easily transport each one of us to an unknown place, nothing can be certain. Especially now.
He did not want to give in to blind trust so easily.
"Arin – Ella – Gavin," said another voice, "It's us."
And then Orlando – Ella and Gavin's cousin – his wife Arielle, Griffith: captain of Avalennon's guard, Prince Skye, and Princess Odessa-Gadriel, accompanied by a few others whom the group in the open now recognized as various members of the White Realm's court, both faeries and elves, stepped forth into the light. Arin's sword went slack in his hand, as he stared at them.
"Fates," he murmured; then, louder, "What are you all doing here?"
Skye gave a bit of a rueful laugh, although his golden eyes did not reflect any true amusement. "We're not entirely certain of that ourselves, I'm afraid, my friend," he said.
"You see, it all happened rather strangely." Now it was Odessa-Gadriel who spoke, and her graceful, famous elven features plainly showed her confusion and worry. "One moment we were all convening on what steps in the repair-work we should take—"
"After the battle," Skye put in, as he draped his arm protectively around her waist. "And then everything was engulfed in a brilliant white light...and we were here."
Arin, Ella, and Gavin all looked at one another, completely baffled.
First, strange dreams, back in Menellendor, and now this?
"So, clearly the question now is what are we possibly to do?" Gavin stated. "We don't know where we are. Or how we got here. Not much good to start out with."
"If you want to see it that way."
As one, they all started and whirled around, looking for the owner of this newest voice...someone who seemed to be quite invisible. The breeze kicked up again, and whizzed about them with a little laughing sound.
"Gavin, Gavin..." clucked the voice in an amused tone. It seemed to be the voice of a young woman, more of a girl really, who was young and knew it. However, there was something else in the tones, the words, of that voice, that spoke of more than youth. There was a sort of power, an authority and confidence, and empathy."Pessimism really doesn't become you at all."
Who are you?
The question crossed everyone's minds, rapidly metamorphosing into 'what are you?' Then the breeze left off its whirling around them, and disappeared entirely.
They heard a light, girlish giggle from behind them.
"Welcome, all of you. It's been far too long – I've missed you."
With a start, the entire group spun towards the speaker, and it was Robbie who first found his own voice when he had seen her. Lunging forward with an incredulous but overjoyed expression on his face, he cried out—
"Elowyn!"
And indeed it was the famed youngest Princess of the White Realm: as young and pretty and happy-looking as they had ever beheld her. Her green eyes sparkling, she held out her arms readily, and stepped forward to collide with her nephew in a warm embrace.
"Fates alive!" Robbie sputtered, when he pulled back to gaze at her.
She was just as he remembered her, all of those months ago upon their last farewell, only now, instead of travel garb, she was wearing a simple, wide-sleeved and full-skirted white gown, with only a few glimpses of shining silver and gold embroidery here and there. It did justice to her beauty, as did her unbound hair: the sun glanced upon its white-gold tresses, making them gleam like the most exquisite strands of the precious metal. Around her neck, she wore the precious chain and pendant from her true parents.
Yes, she was exactly the same as he remembered her...and not.
Somehow, there was a subtle difference in his dear friend and comrade of old – a change that he had to search hard to see. Outwardly, she was still one of the most beautiful women who had ever lived...and yet, now, she seemed even more so, although he could not tell why. It was as if every trace of hardship, pain, and grief had been totally erased from her, leaving nothing but pure, concentrated grace and loveliness behind. And there was an unfathomable wisdom in her eyes now, as she looked at him: wisdom and understanding that seemed to have been earned from countless millennia past.
But he had no time to question her on this, for then everyone else had suddenly rushed forward, and soon they were all in the midst of a joyous reunion. There was laughter, and some tears were shed, and everyone was talking and embracing at once. Most of the attention, ostensibly, was centered on Elowyn. Many questions began to surface as the initial tumult began to slowly subside, but before she became utterly overwhelmed, the princess held up a hand, halting all motion and noise.
"You all have many questions; I know," she said, in a quiet voice that rang with firm resolution. "And they shall be answered – soon – you may believe me. But not now. There is a war encroaching on our world: it has already begun, for many."
She paused, eyeing the group.
"The Ebony Queen is moving forward, reaching out to wrest the world from everything that is of good, and Light. We must stop her. The Calling has been made; all have been Summoned. And now we must convene, for the White Realm and its allies are to rally for the World's End."
She turned halfway from them, gathering the skirts of her gown into one hand so that they would not get in the way of her bare feet. Then she beckoned.
"You have been Called here for this. You are needed."
And so they let her lead them.
Elowyn wove her way among the exotic plants and flowers with such an ease and confidence that her companions each decided that she had been in this strange place for some time. It almost seemed as if she had spent a lifetime there...although they were certain this could not be true.
After an interminable time of walking, a clearing came up in the trees ahead, and suddenly they were standing on the face of a steep hill. Beneath them was a wide plain, in which an enormous building that resembled a temple of sorts, and, to their utter amazement, they saw what must have been thousands and thousands of people standing around it. She let them stand and gape for a moment, and then explained, with her trademark impish smile—
"What – you didn't honestly think we'd have you all here without including everyone else? This is a fight for everyone. Let's go down and join them."
Moments later, they were standing in the midst of the temple grounds, surrounded by every single member of the White Realm currently living. Orandor and Vahlada were already there, along with each of their children. The elves were there, and the faeries, and the changelings, Sprytes, tree folk, sea folk, wizards, dwarves, vampyres, and more.
All had been Called.
Elowyn gathered the group of newcomers about her, telling them that everyone must organize into sections according to their races. Orandor and Vahlada would represent the faeries, Skye and Odessa-Gadriel the elves, and so on. Then, once this had been accomplished, they would decide on what course of action to take in the final, greatest battle against the evil of their world.
"May I extend the welcome to this haven to you as well?"
There were very few people in the group who did not know that dry, sandy, and rather deep voice, and those who didn't were able to easily guess who it was, even before they had caught sight of him.
A dark shadow loomed behind Elowyn, seeming as if it were threatening to swallow her up, and then it seemed to have transformed into a tall, broad-shouldered figure that came to stand at her side, slightly behind her. The proud, chiseled features of his face were plainly vampyric – and royal, at that – and the cool gray eyes that looked across her to them were calm and faintly appraising, recognizing each.
Instantly, a ripple of hissing whispers and exclamations went through them—
"It's him!" "Jaedin of Sytherria!" "The Black Knight!" and, perhaps most painful of all: "What business can he possibly have here?"
This last question immediately recalled to his mind the gravity of the deeds that marked his past, and he hastily averted his eyes to the ground, a muscle working in his jaw as he harshly clenched it. They won't understand: not so soon, he told himself, firmly. This is what you were expecting, and you'd be a fool to deny that. Give it time.
Time.
The newcomers' reaction to his presence, and so close to Elowyn, was what he thought he had prepared himself for, but something that gnawed at his soul and bit into his increasingly sensitive heart each time someone looked at him askance, or greeted him with open hostility. The fact that he had previously lived his life, acting upon what he believed was the truth, had no bearing on them. Here, it was irrelevant. Obviously, he would have to earn their trust – if that were at all possible.
Elowyn held out her hands, trying to placate her friends and kin.
"Please – wait!" she begged them. "I can't explain everything now, but – but you must believe me, you must trust me: Jaedin of Sytherria is our friend and ally. He no longer serves the Ebony Queen. I can't compel you to accept this, but it is true. I...I know it. He has kept me safe, all this time; he has brought me no harm. Together we passed through the Dark Realm's shadow, and stepped into the Light again on the other side. Without him, we would have already been destroyed."
"I can't ask you to forgive me," Jaedin murmured, in a low voice: still not quite meeting the eyes of a few of the faeries and elves. Arielle and Orlando, he saw, were looking at him with something akin to compassion; they knew that something in him had changed. They had witnessed his actions during the Battle for the Academy. They were aware of the alteration of his heart. Robbie, as well, was not glaring at him.
But the others...
He still couldn't raise his gaze to meet theirs.
So he looked at Elowyn – his beloved princess – instead. She returned his gaze with an ardent look of her own: her spring green, luminous eyes seemed to shimmer, and he knew that her throat was as painfully tightened as his own. He had never anticipated any of this, any of what he was about to say; he would never have anticipated that the mere thought of standing where he was, before an assemblage of rightfully angry and wary faeries and elves could even surface in his mind.
Shocking times indeed.
Finally, he dredged up from within the depths of his soul the power to talk again. He gestured feebly, half-heartedly, at them, knowing that he could not win their trust, and changed as he and his heart were, the White Realm would hate him yet.
"I can't compel you to forgive me, or trust me...or accept me. But your world is under attack, even now, and unless you fight against the darkness to save it, everything will be lost. And no one, not even the most powerful of you, will be able to recover it. My allegiance is now with Elowyn of Avalennon, and with any of those whom she names her friends and kindred. I have not harmed her; I will not harm her. I will not see her happiness destroyed by anything. Believe me, or don't believe me. The choice is one I leave to each one of you."
And with that, he took a slight step backwards and, his eyes never leaving Elowyn, bowed elegantly. Then he was gone: his black velvet cloak billowing in his wake.
Elowyn only became aware of the fact that she had been biting her lower lip when she tasted a trace of blood in her mouth. Hastily, she gestured to the group before her, indicating that they ought to join the others below.
"Please: we don't have much time," she said.
He was waiting for her when she was finally able to take leave of the thousands of assembled magic-using delegates that had been summoned to the Council.
As soon as it had been determined by the two of them that all those who had been Called had arrived, with the exception of one or two, he had taken his leave of her and made his exeunt, going down to the place where the Council itself was to be held to make certain that all was in readiness for that fateful event. The location they had chosen to hold the Council within was an amazing work of natural architecture, even in this oasis of sublime and extraordinary, untouched wonders. The hills here gave way to brilliant, sun-bleached white cliffs of limestone, below which lay a wide open, grassy space. Jaedin and Elowyn had decided that it would be ideal for a meeting of what would surely be hundreds of thousands of people.
Of course, some magical alterations had had to be made first.
Seating, composed of twelve individual sections of four-tiered, gracefully curved daises of white stone, now stood in a solemn ring around the canyon. And in the center of it all was the platform where the presiding Lord and Lady of the Council – the children of the Prophecy of World's End – would direct the proceedings.
The vampyre's far-seeing, sharp eyes of molten silver caught sight of her from a distance, but he heard her long before his sight had informed him of her presence.
Without a moment's pause, he leapt down off of the platform and quickly sprinted across the cool green turf to his princess. Suddenly, he sensed a disturbance in her usually buoyant and irrepressibly cheerful spirits and, before he had reached her, saw that there was a barely hidden shadow of sadness and disappointment in her lovely eyes. His heart screamed in agony of frustration and resentment, that his precious, beloved treasure should be so wounded by anything – living, dead, or otherwise – in the world.
Swiftly he closed the gap between them and swept her up into his arms, crushing her to him.
Elowyn buried her face in his chest, nearly disappearing against him as the stark darkness of his billowing black cloak swallowed her slender white figure whole. Jaedin held her close, resting his face against the top of her head and relishing the cool silkiness of her pale golden tresses as he inhaled the scent of Spring that was her. A shock of recollection went through his mind, and he jolted back to reality as if struck by an exceptionally powerful lightning bolt, hastily releasing her and stepping immediately back – but only a little bit.
His hands rested upon her waist: his touch light and gentle but still protective, possessive. A bit of a worried look etched onto his face, causing a slight line to form between his dark arching brows, as he contemplated her for a moment in silence.
"I – I'm sorry, my love," he said: stammering over the words in a way that – along with his manner – so amused her that she had to hide a smile and a laugh. "Are you all right? How is—"
Elowyn did laugh then, however, and stood on tiptoe, reaching up so that she could get to his shoulders, using her hold on him then to pull him close to her once again. With a smile, she slid her hand up behind his neck and brought his face down to her level, and looked into his eyes.
"The different parties are organizing themselves now, as they've elected their representatives. The Lord Orandor and Lady Vahlada will, of course, speak for the White Realm – Prince Skye and Princess Odessa-Gadriel for the elves – what's-his-face from the Academy, the wizard, for his kind, etcetera, etcetera, et al. The only group that hasn't elected a speaker yet is..."
She trailed off, and Jaedin lifted a cool eyebrow, regarding her with calm cynicism.
"Let me guess," he said. "The vampyres?"
Elowyn nodded.
"How did you—"
But he made a brushing motion in the air, waving the question off before she had really even voiced it. He took her hand and began to walk in the direction of the podium; at its center was a tall pillar fashioned as a monolith, and at its foot where two stone chairs, over which the monument's shadow fell.
As they walked, he explained.
"How do I know? How could any vampyre not know? It is a world-renowned fact that...my kind..."
And she took note of the slight clench of his jaw as he paused for a moment's space. Jaedin did not often speak of his vampyre heritage, and now that she was aware of his past in its entirety, she could understand why he would want to avoid the subject, and the memories it brought to him, as much as possible.
"The vampyres have long been a reclusive race, Elowyn," he told her. "Even before certain events transpired: events in which I took part and accept full blame for, that served to set the other Sentient races askance from us, we were never fully willing to endure much contact with the other races of the world. The elves we would sometimes accept as contemporaries...but they were more often our rivals. The vampyric people have always viewed themselves as superior to other living beings. Our resilience to injury and the other unique attributes of the race caused us to become infuriatingly proud, and even when there was a vampyric empire – thousands of years before I was born..."
He added this with a quick glance at her as they walked.
"Well, suffice it to say that the last ruling emperor met a bad end: as did many of those such rulers before him, and so many fiascos occurred after his rule that the vampyres finally decided that abandoning the idea of having a single unified empire was a singularly bad idea. Ever since that time, they've been nomads and recluses. I find it fortunate – and surprising – that they've all heeded it; there must be at least six thousand of them here. But as for their potential leaders..."
He sighed and looked very grim.
"The Call would have reached them; there was no way that anyone, anything, could have ignored it...I just don't expect that they will attend. I knew him and his habits far too well; he was my teacher for many, many long years, and she was with him almost constantly. She and I didn't share a good relationship, I'm afraid..."
And Jaedin's full lips twisted in a bit of a wry smile as he handed her into her chair, simultaneously reaching up to rub the back of his neck with one gloved hand.
"But I doubt that that would have stopped them from joining us here. From what I've gathered...well, it doesn't much matter now. The point is, I have the sneaking belief that the vampyres will be without their proper sovereigns to speak for them – however, they will join us. No matter what the past or present, they know that their future and our future are one and the same. And they will fight with us willingly."
Elowyn nodded, making a noise of deep sympathy.
She had been ravenously warmhearted towards history for as long as she could remember – in her life as Elowyn, Princess of Avalennon – and she knew much of what had happened in the vampyric past. It wasn't a surprise at all to her that the last true royal sovereigns of the vampyric empire: actual royalty, and not just the governing officials elected to lead the separate clans, would possibly not show their faces at the Council.
"Jaedin."
He looked at her swiftly, noting the change in her tone and manner. Elowyn stood up, and moved to stand close to him, reaching for his hands.
"I'm not made of glass, you know."
He knew he looked guilty, and cursed himself for it. But he had hardly any time to dwell on this, thought, for she nestled up against him: reaching her arms around his waist to hold him as close as she possibly could. A bit of an understanding smile curved his lips, and he, without a word, held her tight. Elowyn listened carefully to the thudding of his heart. Its beat matched her own: had matched her own since the magical evening in which they had said their vows, and uttered the binding words of timeless, enduring love...
"Oh Jay..." she sighed. "I want for it to be over so badly. I'm so sick – so tired – so weary of it all. Of everything."
"Shh," he comforted, bringing her face up so that she was looking into his eyes, and he was looking into her eyes. Diamond-clear drops clung to her thick, dark eyelashes. She needed him to be her strength, her reassurance, her safety and compassion and love: perhaps now more than ever. There was so much to protect now...so much to guard and fight for, but he was willing to accept it now as well. He knew, in his heart, with an aching solemnity of the most dire, absolute truth, that he would never let it be otherwise.
So, softly, he placed a kiss first on her forehead, then on the tip of her nose, and lastly, on her lips: lingering there the longest, with a butterfly-light deftness. As they drew apart, she exhaled as he inhaled, exchanging air from her lungs to his. Jaedin's eyes slid slowly open, and he gently tangled his fingers in the cascade of golden curls of hair that flowed down past her waist.
"It will end, my princess," he said. "It will end."
They withdrew from one another then, moving to stand facing one another: hands firmly clasped. Deep, sparkling eyes of emerald green met eyes of shining, violet-tinged silver, and then Jaedin nodded: slowly, resolutely.
"But in order for it to end...it must first begin."
And they went forth – together – and summoned the assembled delegates.
The Council of World's End commenced.
Gavin let his mind drift momentarily and caught the glance of his cousin, Orlando. The two faery lords traded looks, a silent mental conversation transpiring between them.
This is ridiculous.
Ridiculous?! My, but you are the master of understatement! I'll wager that this name-count goes on for another two hours; they're not even finished with the elves' troupe yet...
I was talking about these seats. They're nice to look at and all, but I think I'm losing circulation in my back.
Pathetic: that's what you are.
No, I'm simply getting too old for this.
Suddenly, Orlando made a strange noise through his nose, which he immediately turned into a muffled cough, hiding his mouth behind one hand. A few of the faeries nearby turned to glance at him: some looked annoyed, some concerned, and others – such as Gavin's father, Orandor himself...well...Gavin decided that it was best if he didn't cause any more outbursts of incredulousness.
Thanks a whole whopping lot to you, Master Gavin.
Ha! You deserved that.
Deserved it? What in the black underworlds do you mean by 'you deserved that'? I've never heard such ogre-trash in my entire—
Remember when we were six, and you decided to let your Spryte loose after a frog that had gotten into the basilica, right during the Winter Solstice ceremony? And the said-Spryte chased the said-frog, which just happened to hop right up onto the aged cleric's boot-toe as he was giving the benediction, and the grand duchess of Yaslin decided to start shrieking like a banshee had gotten loose, and faint right there on the floor?
Well? Orlando?
...I try to forget such instances in my life.
What are you two arguing over now? Your little discussion is almost visible in your eyes, and Father's left eyebrow has just gone way up. You know what that means.
Gavin looked across the row of faeries in his allotted section, to his sister; Ella gave a barely perceptible nod, directing his attention to Orandor, who sat with Vahlada only a few rows in front of him. He could just see his father's profile from where he sat, and what Ella had said was true – Orandor's famous highly arched eyebrows had angled to a degree that held an ominous degree of warning. He sat back in his seat and was silent, and motionless, for a few long moments, concentrating on the debate again.
Finally—
I thought this was a closed-channel conversation, Elladine. How long have you been eavesdropping, and why?
Not to tell on you to Father, although one might say you would richly deserve it, came her somewhat amused-sounding reply in his mind. Ergo, brother mine, on pain of blackmail, I can listen to your conversations if I wish. Now aren't you paying the slightest bit attention to the meeting?
Orlando's eyes of sapphire blue had focused on the two people: one arrayed entirely in white, her companion all in black, who were the presiding members of the Council. In the mental realm of sound they heard—
With so many different peoples here, and so many different opinions, you can't doubt what is bound to happen as soon as everyone's been accounted for. They're all going to start arguing amongst themselves, wizard against elf, faery against changeling, while the Queen, blast her, mobilizes even more of her dreaded armies. She could have incinerated our lands from the Academy to Noela'Sarazon, and we wouldn't have the faintest idea of it.
Well, Elowyn and the Dark One over there don't look too worried, Gavin thought acerbically, his gray eyes narrowing a bit as he turned to glance shortly at the pair. She doesn't belong to him...though he certainly seems to think so. Something in the way they look at each other: in the way he stands by her, and she listens to his talking...I don't like it. It's as if she either doesn't have any idea of who he is, which I know can't be true...or worse, she's accepted it. Or is it worse? What is what?
There's too much to answer there, replied Orlando.
The faery prince then noted that his cousin's eyes had also focused on the young princess and her black-garbed companion.
They were all there at the Battle for the Academy – Brendan, Salamaïre, Robbie...Elowyn, and him. I can't tell you what I saw in those last few moments...it's truly hard to explain. But...but try, if you can...try to accept what he says as truth. Much has changed in the world, whether we can see it or not. We have to believe, though.
Orlando was, it turned out, right in his speculation.
As soon as the roll call was complete, Elowyn and Jaedin apprised the Council of the latest actions of the Queen and her armies, revealing how they had, with much effort, managed to sabotage her every endeavor to attack within the last six months. And then, with everyone fully aware of the situation as of the most recent times, the arguments began...and dragged on...and dragged on...
"The wizards' collective moves for an intentional retreat, back to our fortresses – where we know the land and can be certain of our resources and strengths. Let the Queen seek us, if she is so intent on fighting her war!"
A dull wave of murmuring, which quickly grew to an unpleasant roar, washed over the assembly as many voices were raised in dissent and agreement. Curiously, Elowyn's family and nearest friends looked towards her, as she remained where she was in her seat beside the Dark Lord of Sytherria. As Lady of the Council, she would ostensibly have a say in this: perhaps the supreme word...
"Allow her to make the journey to you?! You fool! Could you possibly not have any idea of what you are asking for?"
From the very back of the circle came a new voice: deep and velvety and masculine. A number of people shot to their feet, and everyone whirled to face the speaker. Two late arrivals stood in the space that opened up into the circle, allowing entry. Both were garbed in black robes, and one was significantly taller than his companion.
Elowyn slowly rose to her feet, staring at the pair, and felt Jaedin's arm transform from warm flesh into iron. Alarmed, she looked up to his profile, and saw that he was also looking at the two intensely.
The taller of the pair stepped forward, onto the grass pathway, and began to move towards the center of the circle: speaking as he went.
"Should the Queen bestir herself from her ancient black fortress in the darkest of all realms – which, I may assure you, she has not in the hundreds of thousands of years that she has existed upon this earth – the outcome of such a movement would be one that you would eternally regret. There is a reason, ordained by the Three Themselves in Their sovereignty, that she has been rendered unable to leave the confines of the Dark Realm. Do not seek for the evil of which you know little about."
The old wizard, Claudius, whom all of this had been addressed to sent a resentful stare towards the hooded and cloaked figure.
"And who are you, that you may speak of such great 'mysteries'?" he retorted.
Jaedin began to grin, as he stood still beside Elowyn.
A sound that might have passed for something like a laugh issued forth from the depths of the black hood, and the deep-voiced reply followed closely after—
"One of whom, also, you know very little, Spell-weaver. But no one can be put to blame for this. My consort and I are recluses of our own volition. However, as it is clear that decorum will be kept, at all costs...and out of respect for our presiding Council members..."
The hidden head moved in a slight nod beneath its hood.
"I will introduce myself, and my companion."
The two stood side-by-side in front of Elowyn and Jaedin – then, the smaller figure, who stood to the right, sank down in a graceful curtsey, while the taller one bowed low. As they straightened, the man's voice intoned, "May I present Her Royal Highness, Valwen Esètmarïndiél: Empress of Olyeandara, the Last Vampyric Citadel."
And then the more diminutive figure reached up with hands that were too slender and white and delicate to ever belong to a man, and drew back the hood that obscured the features of its owner.
A collective of gasps, whispers, and exclamations rippled across the Council as the features of a startlingly beautiful woman were revealed.
Lady Valwen, empress of a people long scattered throughout Evyrworld, was not a full-blooded vampyre: this much could be told by the absence of her race's characteristic pointed incisors. But she did have the typical cold, proud beauty and elegance of that all vampyres shared: long, silky, blue-black tresses, a perfect form and bearing, skin so white that it seemed to shine like the full moon, and eyes that were proven to be, as she and her companion approached the dais upon which the fulfillers of the prophecy stood, a riveting hue of liquid sapphire. She was very, very beautiful, and had an air of wisdom and grace about her that made Elowyn feel small and childish.
And yet, when the lady vampyre stood before the dark lord and his princess, she smiled softly and her features instantly became warm and kind.
"Esna ïv'teresvartále siil ïv nyrhl-mirinas ær kalasthon Velya tyr désta na," she said, her eyes flickering across the faces of the people around her.
Elowyn felt a jolt of slight surprise, and noticed, suddenly, that the woman's ears were pointed underneath the incredibly dark hair that fell down to her knees. As perfectly pronounced and easily spoken as the greeting had been – May the blessings of the all wise and sovereign Three be upon you – it was impossible to miss the truth.
The empress of the vampyres was half-elven.
"And I am Morthalion: knight-errant of the Zhaled-anek-Vilyor, and co-ruler of the vampyric kingdoms. Well met, my old student."
The face of the enormously tall vampyre, who stood level with Jaedin, remained hidden by the hood that he wore, and he made no move to dispense with his cloak. But even though shadows hid his face, Elowyn could tell that those last words were spoken with a smile. Faintly, she could see the gleam of bright, unnaturally green eyes within the depths of the hood.
Then Lord Morthalion reached out a large square hand, gauntleted in black, and offered it to Jaedin. Her husband accepted the greeting, and afterward stepped back, a smile lighting his face.
"And the same to you, my old teacher!" he replied. "You don't know how glad I am that you've arrived! I was beginning to worry that you had not received our message."
"We may be self-imposed exiles, Jaedin Dragonmaster," said the Lady Valwen, with a wry little smile on her dark-red lips, "But we are far from unaware of the events that go on outside of our domain. I had to keep Morthalion and Veldoracxadon from flying off to single-handedly confront and do battle with the cursed Dark Crone."
"It's true," came Lord Morthalion's deep, deep voice – amused – from within the depths of his hood. "Thank the Fates, Val has learnt to be the steadying force in our realm! But we have no time for that now; come, apprentice, introduce me to your bride."
Jaedin smiled down at Elowyn and reached for her hand, gathering it into his. He brushed a passionately loving kiss onto her knuckles and then informed his former teacher and the empress of the vampyres—
"Lord Morthalion, Empress, may I have the honour of presenting to you Princess Elowyn: birth-daughter of Diarnan and Lhanallis, adopted-daughter of the Lord Orandor and Lady Vahlada...and the Child of Prophecy?"
Both Lord Morthalion and Lady Valwen abruptly paid her homage of uttermost respect. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head, while she lowered into an infinitely graceful curtsey, also lowering her face to the ground. Elowyn felt very much self-effaced by these two legendary and powerful figures showing her such reverence, but she had no time to beg them to cease; for they stood and looked upon her fully then.
"My lady," Lord Morthalion said, in a gravely respectful tone. "Long have we been told tales of the Child of Prophecy, the herald of the Dark Realm's doom. The race of the vampyres is proud to fight for our world against this great evil, at your side."
Then he turned to Jaedin again.
"We have mustered our forces – every last assassin, marksmen, archer, and shadow-wielder has heeded the summons. We are ready to fight."
"Good," Jaedin said. Quickly, he glanced over his shoulder, taking note of the stirring crowd of people behind them. The rest of the Council was thrumming with a barely-concealed curiosity and impatience. They could not afford to stand about and discuss matters at hand any longer. The Council must be brought to a decision. The last defense of the world had to be formed.
He gestured for his former teacher and the vampyric empress to follow him, and be seated within the council seating area.
"Have you held conference with the rest of the Circle?"
Lord Morthalion's cloaked head nodded, slowly.
"Yes; they shall all be with us by nightfall. Nikolas is the furthest from this place, and thus it took me much time and effort to find him...but he will be here, along with the rest of them."
"Very well," Jaedin replied. "Now, let us inform the Council of this latest good news."
The two vampyres went to their seats, and Jaedin escorted Elowyn back to the dais. As they walked, she asked him, one dark brown eyebrow quirking—
"Jaedin...the Circle? Of whom do you speak?"
"The Circle of Mages, Elowyn," her husband replied. "The most powerful magic-wielders in the world, both unallied to the White Realm and allied; of this world, and not. They will fight with us."
Then he guided her to her seat, and stood before the Council: addressing all.
"Throughout the ages, the magic-wielding races of this world have warred and bickered amongst themselves, unable to reconcile the vast differences of kind and opinion that each person holds – yet we have also shown a remarkable resilience in times of trouble, and an inborn ability to unite into one unbreakable force. Now is the time when we must again take up arms together, and move as one being. We do not have time to debate this war any further – the Queen and her dark army march upon the lands of our world even as we speak. We cannot afford to delay."
When he paused, a legion of dissenting voices went up.
He quelled them with a motion.
"Also through the ages of this world, I have been a dire and hated force against you. I have fought you at every turn; I have destroyed and ruined both living and inanimate. I fought for the Queen, and none other. But now this has changed – she destroyed my family, laying the blame to you, the White Realm, and I believed her tales of your evilness for long. Now I know the truth...and it is the truth that I shall now fight for! I stand before you and lay down my gauntlet: let any man who desires the triumph of good over evil step forward, and raise arms with me! I, Jaedin DragonMaster of Sytherria, Dark Lord of the Western Desert, call upon every last soul of you – stand with me, and go with me to war!"
The dull roar of voices intensified; Elowyn gripped the armrests of her chair, and felt herself grow cold. Her eyes had widened, and she could not breathe steadily.
Still, Jaedin went on, inexorably.
"I speak to you now in the Tongue of Truth, falsifiable by no one and nothing! I am the Dark One, the second Child of Prophecy, the dark side to Elowyn's Light!"
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.
Ris'n from time long before,
The Dark One shall be first to open the door:
Sharing a mark with she who is of Light,
To whom he is bound by all that is right.
By this they shall be known,
And naught else that will come –
Lovers, rescuers, they shall be, when all else is flown.
"We fight TO WIN!"
From his seat next to his fair half-elven wife, Lord Morthalion watched as the Council broke into unanimous, fervent concurrence and approval of their new ally's words: knowing that he spoke the truth. One who spoke in the Tongue of Truth could not lie. Such had been the gift of the Three, upon the creation of Evyrworld – one who spoke the Tongue of Truth was bound by Their sacred, divine power, to speak only the truth. Jaedin of Sytherria was now among them, one of them, an ally and friend. The former enmity between him and the White Realm was dissolved.
"The flame in the hearts of a few will spread to others...if it is but caught in the path of that fire."
Beside him, Valwen nodded.
"She will know true terror now."
We all shall.
A/N: And I owe a monumental thank-you-very-much to my friend, Shadow the Gatekeeper: the Last Knight of the Rose, for Lord M.'s line up there - 'tis a quote he let me borrow. Thanks, my friend! Anywho. Introductions to new characters are due in as well, along with the new chapters - already we have Morthalion and Valwen, and of course, this "Nikolas" person and the Circle of Mages. As to who those fellows are...well, you'll soon find out. As for now though, do us a favor and drop a review or two...