Origin (3 page)

This told Elwyn two things; her father had black hair and, most importantly, her mother must have loved him, whoever he was. It would have made no sense for a woman to wear her husband’s hair intertwined with hers around her neck if she didn’t love him. Somehow, thinking that her parents may have loved one another provided her with a bit of comfort.

“There was also a diary in with your mother’s possessions. The cover was crafted from a soft finely tooled doeskin, very soft to the touch. On the cover was an intricately tooled square with the picture of a small black dragon clutching a golden crown in its talons. That same crown was tooled on the clasp. It was obvious to me that the diary had seen some wear and tear, but it was still beautiful to behold. I never opened it, not wanting to pry. I just handed it, along with the pendant to your uncle. I never saw either of them again. When you turned sixteen, it took some rather heated arguing on my part before I could convince him to give you the pendant.”

Elwyn remembered how happy and excited she’d felt when her uncle and Clayre presented the pendant to her at her sixteenth birth celebration dinner. She remembered her uncle’s obvious discomfort as he handed her the pendant. He said almost nothing after handing her the gift. Later, when her uncle was not with them, Clayre told her all she could remember from her discussions with Rhys about it.

“There is something about this pendant that makes your uncle very nervous. All he has ever been willing to say was that the pendant, along with the diary, was a gift from his father to your mother for her sixteenth birth celebration. I was really shocked when he also mentioned that his gift for that same birth celebration had been a sword, which he still possessed. I’ve never seen the sword, but the pendant and the diary are both of excellent quality. It’s my guess that Rhianna and Rhys came from a family with money. They both seemed well educated so I would not be surprised to learn that they were raised in a large city. I tried asking him about it, but he would say no more on the subject.

I felt the diary should also be given to you when you came of age, but whenever I tried to suggest it to Rhys; he got angry and threatened to burn it. I’ve often wondered if there was something written in the pages of that diary that caused your uncle to feel so angry and bitter.”

“Do you know if he ever tried to contact my father to let him know what happened to my mother and to tell him that I was alive?”

“To the best of my knowledge, he never did sweetheart. But if he didn’t, I’m sure he felt he had good reason not to.”

Elwyn was well aware that Rhys steadfastly refused to speak her father’s name, or acknowledge his existence. She also knew the quickest way to get him to shut down tighter than an old drum was to bring up the subject. After all these seasons, it was very possible that the man wasn’t even still living. She often wondered why her uncle continued to care so much. But one thing was very evident to her and to Clayre; Rhys wasn’t ready for either of them to learn whatever was contained within the pages of her mother’s diary.

A
yron listened to the sounds of nature waking up all around him as he lay on his bed pad preparing to begin another day of border patrol. Light from the rising sun was just starting to filter down through the thick canopy of trees, bathing the forest floor in a soft glow. This was his favorite time of day and his favorite place to be. One of the benefits of his elven heritage was the ability to attune himself to the various forms of animal and plant life. He actually sensed life flowing in everything around him. It was a glorious and exhilarating feeling. He had postponed marriage and having a family for this very reason. The call of nature felt much stronger to him than that of any woman he’d met to date. Besides, he’d experienced firsthand how great love can also bring great sorrow, and he wasn’t sure that he would ever be willing to take the same risk his brother had.

Azavon, his older brother, was a perfect example of how a love that seemed so right could go so wrong. He and Azavon were part of the ruling family that presided over the land of Silvendil. It was a land where elves and humans lived in harmony with one another. As the elder son, Azavon came to rule over Silvendil after the death of their father. At first Azavon viewed this position as a burden, often interfering with his desire to be a doting husband to his wife who was expecting their first child. After the sudden death of his pregnant wife, Azavon threw himself into the duties of ruling his land and his people with a fervor that went far beyond his responsibility to the throne.

Azavon had been away from the capital city of Findara negotiating a treaty with the dwarf king of Grimsfyne, Sedrik Ironhammer, when his wife died. Returning home to find a simple grave and the news that his wife committed suicide nearly drove him to madness. He’d always believed that the two of them were almost of one mind and one heart; growing in the intimacy and joy they shared together. Just the thought that she might have been unhappy enough to kill herself, almost drove him crazy with guilt and sorrow. Azavon often said that he threw himself into ruling his land, so that he didn’t succumb to the incredible grief and despair that continually threatened to overtake him. His work became his sanity and the sole reason he hadn’t followed in his wife’s footsteps. When Azavon did find time away from his duties as ruler, he would spend it alone at his wife’s grave. Ayron often wondered if he continued to go there still searching for answers, or to beg forgiveness for some unknown sin.

Then there was his little sister Alysan. Instead of seeking out a normal relationship based on love, she had chosen a political union. They’d had many discussions on this point. Alysan wasn’t brave enough to share her anger and bitterness with Azavon, but often felt free to lecture him endlessly about the sacrifices she’d made to ensure that the throne of Silvendil stayed in the family. He’d heard the same lecture from Alysan so often, that he could remember the words verbatim.

“You know that the Council of Elders views it the duty of each of us to marry and have children. You also know how the Council feels about us marrying a human. You and Azavon have both let them down. I am the only one who was willing to do my duty.”

“Oh come on, Alysan. You act as if the Council should be able to dictate our every move in life. They seem to want to tell us when to marry, who to marry, and whether or not to have children. I don’t intend to give anyone that much power over me. After all, the Council was formed to advise the ruler, not give him or her orders. ”

“It’s about the future, Ayron. We are the ruling family of Silvendil. Do you really want to see that honor pass from our family to another? Marrying for political reasons to strengthen our bloodline and ensure that we continue to rule hardly seems to be too great a price to pay in return.”

“Alysan, I refuse to live a life that I believe seems to value elven blood over human blood. We are a nation committed to living in harmony and equality with one another. If there was a human currently ruling Silvendil, how would you feel if their Council tried to keep them from marrying elves? Besides with our brother, dear sister, it was purely a matter of the heart. And what the heart wants………”

“I don’t know why I waste my breath even talking to you. Good rulers put their responsibility to the people over their own personal preferences. I don’t understand how it is that I can put my responsibilities ahead of my personal desires, and my two brothers can’t. Well, I for one plan to do what I must to ensure that the throne stays in our family for this and future generations. I think it is a shame that the two of you look like elves but act like humans, and I, who look more human, act more like an elf.”

Alysan was true to her word and chose as her mate a young elf, Gelmir, who was the son of Lord Daeglin, a member of Azavon’s Council of Elders. She gave birth to a son, Remi, after two seasons of marriage. Since she was three-quarters elf and Gelmir was an elf, their son Remi would be easily accepted by both the Council and the people of Silvendil as a suitable heir.

Alysan had been pregnant when Azavon’s wife committed suicide and the event seemed to have had a tremendous impact on her. She often mentioned it to Ayron when they were alone together.

“I have to admit that I really didn’t like Rhianna. She kept trying to get close to me and I couldn’t allow that. I was afraid to be associated too closely with a human that the council didn’t approve of. After all, my husband’s father is an important member of the council and my loyalty had to be with him. You knew her pretty well. Why do you think she killed herself, Ayron?”

“I really don’t know what happened and to speculate would only be gossip. Remember Alysan, Azavon and I were in Grimsfyne at the time.”

“Do you think she did it because she knew that everyone in Findara was upset that she married Azavon? I don’t know of anyone who seemed willing to befriend her. Even mother didn’t seem to have much time for her. It is still hard for me to understand how a pregnant woman could commit suicide. She must have had some kind of emotional sickness just like Malac said. To kill her unborn child.......”

“This is a dangerous topic to discuss with me Alysan. I loved my brother’s wife like a sister, and it did not escape my notice that you never made any attempt to befriend her.

And while we are on the subject, it sounds to me as if you also consider elves superior to humans. That attitude does not support the principals that our nation was founded upon. In my humble opinion little sister, if you consider yourself better than the humans and refuse to associate with them, you are not fit to rule this land either.”

As the seasons passed, Ayron found himself no longer angry at his sister. Instead he felt almost as sorry for her as he did for his brother. Alysan had chosen to sacrifice love for her own warped sense of political responsibility. Her marriage was formal, polite, and contained very little intimacy. Alysan and her husband Gelmir both respected each other and dealt well together on matters of state, but their personal relationship was almost nonexistent.

Given his struggles with spending too much time around his siblings, Ayron was actually excited to hear rumors of some small skirmishes taking place along the border they shared with Avrelan, a land to the south ruled by King Stefan. He knew it was most likely a simple mission brought on, more by misunderstanding, than a deliberate intent to stray into their territory, but it needed to be dealt with. Stefan had a reputation for being dishonest and untrustworthy in his dealings with the other nations of the Known Lands. More than that, there had always been bad blood between him and Azavon. Stefan rose to power by murdering most of his own family. His crown carried the blood of all of Azavon’s dead wife’s relatives. He was known to the other nations in the Known Lands as a man without integrity. Ayron could probably have sent some of his men to check the border, as they were certainly competent enough to handle the mission without his help, but he was bored playing politics at court, saddened by his inability to find a way to lessen his brother’s grief, and uncomfortable spending time with Alysan.

As the younger son of the ruling family, it fell to Ayron to lead the armies of Silvendil and see to the defenses of its lands. He really enjoyed his job and frequently traveled to the different military encampments to meet and encourage the brave humans and elves that willingly fought side by side to defend their homeland. However, when he was in Findara, the capital city of Silvendil, he was expected to attend the seemingly endless meetings of the Council of Elders. He tired quickly of these mandatory meetings, and failed to understand how most of the council members actually seemed to enjoy spending the majority of their waking hours in disputes and discussions. This was why he jumped at the opportunity to take a dozen of his soldiers and spend some time traversing the land he loved so well.

Ayron, putting his musings aside, rose from his bed pad, got dressed, and called his guard to order. After a quick meal of travel biscuits and fruit, washed down by fresh spring water, they cleaned up their campsite, saddled their mounts, and headed deeper into Everin; the forest that cloaked the boundary between Silvendil and Avrelan. As he rode, Ayron passed the time by training his drakenhawk, Keroc. Drakenhawks were descendants of ancient dragons, now believed extinct. They resembled dragons in structure, but not size. They were small enough to land on a strongly muscled arm or on the pommel of a specially made saddle, but large enough to be fearsome fighters. Drakenhawks were hatched from eggs like dragons but were more restrictive in coloring; a rich blue-black for the males, and a deep cobalt blue for the females. Their scaly skin and leathery wings were other traits drakenhawks shared with their larger relatives. These fascinating creatures had shiny crests in the shape of crowns on the tops of their heads that, like their talons and the tips of their tails, shone with the brilliance of gems. Keroc was a young drakenhawk and had only recently become Ayron’s companion. His previous companion, Berroc had been killed by a grymwolf in a battle with the dwarves from Grimsfyne. Berroc died bravely defending Ayron’s life. Keroc’s youthful enthusiasm and joy had gone a long way to ease the grief of Berroc’s passing.

As Ayron and his men rode south, he sent Keroc on small training forays into the deep woods ahead to scout each area before they arrived. It took time for young drakenhawks to learn to project the images they saw into the mind of the person receiving them without distortions. The more excited they were, the more distorted the image could be. Ayron chuckled softly to himself as he remembered Keroc’s first attempt to send him an image of a small boar wandering through the woodland. He received flashes of black shaggy fur, giant tusks, and razor sharp fangs. It took almost five minutes for Keroc’s excitement to diminish to the point where Ayron could determine that he was looking at a small boar, rather than a very large and vicious beast. Ayron was anxious to complete Keroc’s training before they entered into battle together, where even a momentary disorientation caused by a distorted image could result in death.