"How could our sentries even allow a human in our midst? Has Islanzadi's intuition withered so much as to be incapable of seeing through deception?" Lord Fiolr said, a frown darkening his once impassive expression.
"I am confident in the capabilities of our sentries," Meldor, an elder elf, replied in return. "This human has persuaded the guards somehow. Such deception comes natural to humans, and there's a particular event in our history that bears testimony of why humans are more dangerous than we think."
"You are confused, aged one. If the younger generation would not have been denied of a word for the Queen's ears, none of this would have happened." This time, it was Norlan who addressed his kinsmen. He was a young, but witty and shrewd elf who was invited only because of his rank as Master of Swords. He was leading the melee force of the elves, and his 'aggressive when needed, defensive when forced' tactics quickly impressed the Queen. At least, to the point where she would bestow such a privileged rank upon an elf younger than most of his troops.
"We were not prepared for such intrusion," Dathedr said solemnly, coughing to get the attention of the rest of the elves. "Instead of planting discord among ourselves and our people, we should seek the best remedy for our immediate problem."
"That's easy for you to say, Dathedr," Nolran smiled, looking at him with cold blue eyes. "Your words of wisdom can not cover the fact that your impotence has caused not only the death of our Queen, but also took unnecessary lives."
"Young, but perceptive. However, your empty arguments will not work on Dathedr, Nolran," Fiolr said coolly, raising his head to match Dathedr's eyes. "He is much too… shallow."
Meldor shifted in his seat before he intervened, "Such insolence… I will not have it!" The other two looked at him with questioning looks.
"You know that humans cannot be trusted. How many more must die to shatter your ideals? How much blood will wet the earth before logic finally makes its way into that entangled mind of yours?"
Fiolr's expression lightened. "Nolran, blunt and not chiseled. Sometimes I wonder why we don't listen to him."
Dathedr said nothing. A huge burden rested on his shoulders, now that Islanzadi was dead. It happened so fast, so sudden, that not even his disciplined mind could cope with the shock produced by the aftermath of this event. Islanzadi was a great leader and an honorable queen, and Dathedr knew of the curiosity and trust she harbored for the human race. It was this trust that allowed the bonds between the elves and the humans to strengthen through Arya during her time as an ambassador, and Dathedr feared for the future of this relationship. Although no elf would destroy an alliance, there was no telling what would happen should Fiolr, or Nolran, as unlikely as it sounded, acquire the title of Regent until another King or Queen would rightfully claim the throne.
"You know the point of our meeting," Fiolr broke the silence. "As long as there is no Regent to lead our people, chaos will quickly ensue, and time is a luxury we quite lack at the moment."
"Let us proceed, then," Nolran said, shrugging. The young elf with silver hair had an air of nonchalance, yet Dathedr knew that he craved to prove himself to the elder elves and provide evidence that old customs were outdated and ineffective. Above all, he was a skilled commander, but his tough nature lacked compassion, a trait much needed for the leader of the elves.
Each elf sat at the square table according to their rank and relationship with the queen. Dathedr, being a high ranked noble, sat at the front of the table, while Fiolr and Meldor sat next to him on the sides, and Nolran farther away from them. Dathedr knew that the young elf was not pleased with his almost insignificant place at the table, his ambition not soothed by the privilege of even being in the same room with the other lords.
"I nominate Fiolr," Nolran said, leaning his head on his fist in boredom.
Three lamps spread their dim light across the small room. The darkened sky obscured the sun, and they could not rely on natural light to enter through the dirt stained glass window. The elves cared little for human buildings, and because of that, they never bothered to decorate or find them pleasant. Such unnatural contraptions could never replace the beauty of Du Weldenvarden and the elven houses. Most of the important meetings were still held in Islanzadi's tent, but the recent events opted out that option, so Dathedr chose a random building to hold the meeting, away from the crowd of confused and frightened elves.
"I nominate Meldor," Fiolr said, summoning Dathedr's attention. Although he knew that Fiolr never sympathized him, he still hoped that he would see reason and think his choice thoroughly.
"I nominate Dathedr," Meldor said, looking straight into his eyes.
Dathedr felt lost. Right now, he could nominate himself and lead the elves as Islanzadi would, continuing her tradition and mend their distrust of humans in time.
"I nominate Meldor," Dathedr said. Nolran and Fiolr appeared surprised with his choice, but they did not quite show it.
"Lead wisely, Meldor, and may the stars watch over you and grant you the wisdom to overcome our terrible loss."
"Thank you, Dathedr," Meldor said. "As soon as the confusion ends, I'll open the election ceremony so that the throne can once again belong to a rightful ruler."
"Wise words, Meldor," Fiolr said, pushing his chair back to get up. "I wouldn't be surprised if a human ends up on the throne." The elven lord eyed them both with displeasure and walked out of the room without bothering to close the door behind. Nolran, after displaying his courtesy to Meldor, walked out to catch up with Fiolr.
These two worry me,Dathedr thought, looking at the young elf who quickly disappeared from view.
"Why did you nominate me?" Meldor asked, approaching Dathedr. "You are wiser and more compassionate than I am. You were Islanzadi's favored. Why wouldn't you respect her wishes? Why would you ignore her legacy?"
"I don't ignore it," Dathedr sighed. "I just did what is right for our people."
Meldor laid a hand on his shoulder. "You still suffer because of the ill touch of destiny, I see."
"How can I not?" Dathedr said, looking away from Meldor. "I asked the elves to empower me with their energy so that I could deliver the blow in Islanzadi's stead, but Tenga saw through my plans. Instead of helping the elves, I weakened them, and you know the outcome better than I."
"Tenga was a crafty opponent. A powerful and cold human that has more secrets than we can figure," Meldor said with a worried voice. "However, it was our mistake for letting him attack us during our most vulnerable time. Maybe his attack was not a coincidence. It's not likely that both Galbatorix and this Tenga attack during a funeral which was not supposed to reach outside ears."
Seruniel let out a guttural groan. His arms were still trembling, legs still shaking. It was his first encounter with a life threatening experience, and his mind had yet to recover from the shock. Even though the crowd began to disperse, Seruniel was still pinned to the ground because of his inability –or unwillingness—to stand up. Numerous voices shouted around him, the elder elves trying to enforce order or simply strengthen the young ones. Seruniel arched his head when a familiar name reached his ears.
"They are dead, Lord Dathedr," an elf said with a firm voice. "Six of them. The rock shards were hurled with too much force against the wards…"
"Move them," Dathedr commanded. "We shall return them to the earth tomorrow when we will pay homage to Oromis-elda and Glaedr."
"There is another problem," the elf said hurriedly. "The offerings for Oromis-elda and Glaedr…"
"Speak your piece, Firiel!"
"They're gone," the elf said on a sad tone. "Tenga did something with them. The wretched human!"
There was an eerie silence for a moment. Dathedr appeared to be pondering, and the rest of the elves dared not to let out even a whisper.
"Pick up our fallen," Dathedr said curtly and paced away. "This is our primary concern for now."
Images of the previous battle flashed through Seruniel's mind. While the elves did their best to shield themselves from Tenga's spell, the old man used the distraction to slip away unscathed by simply vanishing, together with the offerings. One elf said he teleported. If his words were true, then…
He can't be that far away! Seruniel thought without a shadow of doubt, getting up in an instant. I must inform the lords. Tenga took us by surprise, but if we attack him, he'll be at a grave disadvantage. Teleportation must have weakened him greatly.
An elf shuffled away from Seruniel's sight, revealing the body of one of the fallen. Driven by a sinister curiosity, Seruniel walked forward. The first thing he noticed was the clotted blood mixed with dirt. Seruniel frowned at the sickening color and summoned enough willpower to look farther away. A bloodied robe met his eyes, the once beautiful emerald material tattered and pierced in numerous places. The material was even torn in some places where Tenga's spell tore the fabric apart. Seruniel gasped, but did not look away. The owner of the robe looked nothing like the elf he used to be. The storm of minuscule rock particles tore his skin off. Seruniel immediately glanced away, but death seemed to be everywhere. He saw an elf with his neck punctured, then one similar with the first, then another…
"Leave, young one," a voice rang in his ear. Seruniel jerked violently when a hand touched his shoulder. "Unless you help me pick up the fallen."
Seruniel stared at the elf for one brief moment and ran away, desperate to escape the gruesome sight.
Meldor sat in the same small room lit by the soft and diffuse light of oil lamps. Numerous blank vellums sat in front of him, waiting for the quill to darken their surface. Now a Regent, his task was to draw down numerous assignments for the other lords and Masters with the purpose of reinstalling order in the city.
Meldor sighed and dipped the quill into the oily black substance. Scribing was an activity he was never quite fond of, yet the responsibility of the elven people now rested on his shoulder. The discipline and organization of the troops had always been reinforced by a sturdy set of orders, without which a part of their efficiency would fade.
After drafting the necessary tasks related to sentry assignments and defensive tactics, Meldor rested the quill back on its wooden support. He wasn't a warrior, nor a strategist. Poems and philosophy were his passions, as well as the study of human race. Unlike most elves that deemed humans deceptive and not trustworthy after Galbatorix's betrayal, Meldor was fond of them and quickly allowed past transgressions to fade. Above all, he wasn't a hypocrite that would condemn an entire race due to the mistakes of a few individuals while his own people did the same during Du Fyrn Skulblaka.
The door opened with a muffled creak, distracting Meldor from his musings.
"Dathedr," he said.
The other elf nodded. "There is tension and incertitude blossoming in the minds of our people. One of the Star Swordsmen barely stopped a group of young elves from fleeing."
Meldor tapped the wooden table with his finger, the bottom of his lip curled thoughtfully.
"During the initial confusion, some have already fled back to Du Weldenvarden," Dathedr pressed on. "They are afraid, Meldor. Afraid that a single man could infiltrate our city and kill them so easily. Confused that their Queen could not protect them."
"We were not prepared," Meldor said, looking through the scrolls scribbled with runes. "Tenga's infiltration was planned. Galbatorix knew what this day meant to us."
Dathedr looked at Meldor questioningly. "You think their attacks are somehow related?"
"There is a high possibility," Meldor said. "However, I'd like to quell our people's suspicion before we extract vengeance on this Tenga."
Dathedr nodded curtly, but did not leave. "There is another matter of consequence. Several scouts reported a group of armed elves leaving the city's boundaries. Their thoughts are poisoned with anger and revenge."
"Telros is with them," Meldor said coolly.
"The Master of Bows?"
Meldor nodded, and Dathedr took a step forward.
"You allowed such atrocity?" Dathedr asked with indignation, frowning.
"Tenga may be greatly weakened by the spell he used. Our people need to know that their Regent does not ignore their pleas, and I will not allow a mere human to tarnish Islanzadi's memory. If we joined the Varden before Galbatorix had a chance to secure his throne and expand his vile influence, it would not have come to this."
"Feelings of regret will not help us now," Dathedr sighed. "How many elves are with Telros?"
"Eleven, two of them being part of Islanzadi's elite guard. You must understand that I can't contain their feelings."
Dathedr looked through the dusty window, his posture still retaining its dignity in spite of the loss every elf suffered.
"I will contact the Varden and inform them of what has transpired."
"Is that wise to do?" Meldor asked with concern.
"I know the humans," Dathedr said, moving towards what supposed to be a door and pulled the wooden board open. He looked back at Meldor with stark silvery eyes.
"If they lose their leader, the Varden is doomed."
Most of the loose ends are tied, new quests arise and the problems continue for the elves. It seems Tenga's attack was greater than anyone suspected. Not only that Islanzadi and a few elves died, but some have even fled back home! Will Meldor, the new Regent, stabilize the elves and resurrect their faltering strength? Also, will the elves sent by him find Tenga and deal with him?
Of course, you are welcome to answer these questions, post your thoughts and ideas and also critique my work. Every review is appreciated and answered. Before I post, I'll just tell you that the following chapters will be about Eragon and the team. Yep, the story returns to them.