The Blade Heir (Book 1) (2 page)

Siegfried Silverhart woke up abruptly when he heard his brother's scream. With elven swiftness, he jumped from his bed and snatched the elf dagger,
Riome
, from the wall. He ran outside his bedroom into an elegantly decorated hallway, well lit by the moonlight cascading from open slits in the ceiling. His brother's yells persisted as he dashed to the last door at the end of the hall. Siegfried quickly opened the door, dagger at the ready, and lunged inside. He saw his human brother struggling on the bed, tossing his head wildly from side to side. A violent nightmare was upon him. Siegfried set the dagger down and lit a candle on his brother's wall. He stood beside the bed and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder trying to shake his brother awake, but he continued to suffer in his sleep.

"Brother, please wake!" Siegfried cried. "Lucius! Wake up!"

Lucius gasped loudly and finally opened his eyes. He looked up at the elf standing over him, not recognizing him at first. He examined Siegfried’s silver locks of hair, his fair face, and the pointed ears characteristic of his race.

"Siegfried?" Lucius whispered.

"Yes, Lucius. It is I," he said smiling.

"Did I have another nightmare?"

"Yes. This one more terrible than the last," Siegfried said. The elf grabbed a glass pitcher from a nightstand and poured water into a small cup then handed it to Lucius.

Lucius sat up and drank the water. "It was worse than any of the previous dreams."

"We should talk about it in the morning. For now, you should rest for tomorrow. It shall be a busy day for both of us."

Lucius sighed. "Yes, I know. Please don't tell Father about this. I know how worried he can get over a foolish dream."

"I won't say a word." Siegfried took the cup from Lucius and set it back on the stand. "Rest now, Lucius. The light of D'arya shall be upon you."

Lucius nodded and lay down, pulling the velvet covers to his shoulders as his mind sank to rest. Siegfried walked out of the room and quietly sang an elven song of protection before closing the door. He returned to his bedroom where he lay on his bed pondering the nature of his brother's dream before drifting to sleep.

 TWO

A Test of Skill

Lucius awoke to a knock on his door. Despite his long sleep, he felt tired and uneasy. The ghastly images of his dream were still clear in his mind. The knocking continued as he quickly put on his tunic. He opened the door and saw Siegfried, fully dressed in an emerald tunic and a brown jerkin. He wore a quiver made of tanned hide; in his left hand he held a long bow with a crescent moon embossed on its handle. He greeted him in the elven language and smiled.

"I see you are not yet prepared for our contest today."

Lucius' face flushed. "No, I just woke up. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to oversleep."

"No apology is needed. I will go to the archery grounds
and shoot a few targets while you prepare yourself."

"I'll meet you there, Siegfried."

Siegfried bowed slightly then exited the hallway. Lucius dressed himself hurriedly and grabbed his bow and quiver from the hooks on the wall. He walked into the hallway and turned left through an arched door that led into a grand atrium where sunlight poured out from a circular hole in the ceiling onto ornate pillars and marble benches. At the center of the atrium stood a stone monolith with a crescent moon and tree carved on its surface—the crest of the Silverhart family. Lucius walked up to the monolith, admiring the fine craftsmanship of the elves. On the carved tree's trunk, there was a symbol: three dashes in a column with a single vertical line running through them. It was the rune of D'arya, the elf spirit of Azuleah.

Lucius walked to the southern entrance of the atrium and stepped into a large courtyard. The sun shone brightly outside, giving warmth to the plants and saplings around the stone path he walked on. The path curved around the house and ended at a stone arch, beyond which stood the city of Evingrad. The city rested upon
Breninmaur,
the Great Tree of Verdania—a centuries-old elvish oak rising seven hundred feet from the ground. Many of the Great Tree's topmost branches were burned in the Ancient War, allowing the D'aryan elves to erect a circular stone foundation in their place. During the construction of Evingrad, the elder elf sages used all their powers of healing to restore the tree and its lower branches. The branches grew in a distinct way, curling around the foundation like a giant, spindly hand tightly grasping the newly constructed city. These supporting branches grew hundreds of feet high, and the myriad of leaves provided substantial shade to the elves living within
Breninmaur
. The city became a living monument built to honor the last of the ancient elvish oaks.

Lucius ran through the stone arch and onto the western road of Evingrad, hastily making his way to the archery grounds near the city square. He passed many lichen-covered houses formed by the elvish wood that sprouted from the trunk of
Breninmaur.
The elves would coax the sprouts to form their dwellings by singing their ancient songs to them. The elf houses, known as
egini,
were the common dwelling, but a few houses were also constructed of marble. As Lucius passed several
egini,
he remembered as a child witnessing the coaxing ritual, where many elves sang day and night to form a house from a sprout no larger than a flower. The result of such patient labor was a beautiful home complete with lattice windows and elegant buttresses rivaling those of great lords and kings. The greater houses built of marble and glass belonged to elves who held great honor and esteem among the elf clans. Siegfried's clan, Silverhart, was held in such regard.

Lucius saw his brother at a distance, shooting arrows with impeccable accuracy at sacks filled with straw. Lucius approached the archery grounds through a gap in the wooden fence surrounding the area. Siegfried continued to shoot the sacks as his brother walked up beside him. Lucius chose not to disturb his practice, but even if he had, the elf's concentration would not waiver—each shot was as precise as the last.

Lucius strung his yew bow and pulled an arrow from the leather quiver over his shoulder. He nocked the arrow, taking steady aim at one of the five sacks dangling from a branch overhead. Marked circles painted on the surface of the sacks corresponded to critical targets on an enemy's torso. Lucius aimed at a circle marked where an enemy's heart would be. He took a deep breath and listened to the twang of Siegfried's bow before releasing the arrow. It whizzed through the air and landed on its mark.

"Very good, Lucius. Your skills are improving," Siegfried said, aiming and shooting at his target while he spoke.

"Indeed they are, Siegfried," he said, nocking another arrow. "Though I doubt I can ever be as good as an elf."

"I dare not question the abilities of a young man like you, but I am confident your potential will surprise many elves."

Lucius laughed. He took aim and shot another arrow, hitting a critical mark. "Let's hope this potential you speak of will help me in today's contest."

"You need not trouble yourself with worry, brother," Siegfried said. He shot his last arrow and hit the target's heart without looking.

"That isn't what troubles me the most," Lucius said, missing his target. "Last night's dream still troubles me."

Siegfried lowered his bow and furrowed his brows. "Was it ...
him
?"

"Yes. The dragon appeared in my dream again—darker and more menacing than before. Kraegyn's fire burnt my flesh."

"Do not speak his name—not here. I do not know what these dreams entail, Lucius. But perhaps you should tell Father about it."

"I don't want to worry him about this. He always secludes himself in his study when I share my dreams with him. I feel as if I've brought a great burden on him ... and to you also by arriving as I did," he said.

"Lucius, you have been a blessing to both my father and I, you know this. If Father worries about your dreams, it is merely because he cares for you. Neither he nor I would allow any evil to cause you harm."

Lucius nodded. "I know. Perhaps I should tell him, then."

"It can only help you, brother. And as for this matter of your arrival, you know that could not be helped. You were a mere infant when you were left at the Marble Gate," Siegfried said, placing his hand on Lucius' shoulder.

"Father still believes it to be a sign of some sort," Lucius scoffed. "But the only sign I see is that of uncaring parents."

Before Siegfried could speak, a horn sounded nearby. They both looked toward the city square. "Has the tournament started?" Lucius asked nervously.

"No, but we must not tarry any longer. Come!" Siegfried grabbed a second quiver of arrows leaning on the fence and rushed toward the western road.

Lucius quickly gathered his gear and tried to keep up with his brother's swift pace. They hurried along the road that ran through the outskirts of the city in a semicircle, eventually connecting with the eastern road. The eastern and western roads were split by an intersecting lane known as the Royal Road. Lucius and Siegfried ran along the eastern road for a few feet before they turned right onto the Royal Road, which led them to Evingrad's center. The cobblestone path was lined with the marble houses of the most honored families. The Royal Road descended a few feet as they neared the Tower of
Breninmaur
, a tall spire used as a post for the elven warriors patrolling the city. The tower also housed the entrance to the Hollows of
Breninmaur
, long tunnels descending into the world below.

The elves of Evingrad were all gathered in the oval court on the eastern side of the Tower. A dais had been erected at the end of the courtyard, and all members of the
Cyngorell
, the governing council of Evingrad, were seated upon it. The
Cyngorell
were sages, judges, alchemists, and healers who led the elves of Evingrad with their ancient wisdom, seeking peace for all peoples of Azuleah. Helmer Silverhart sat at the right end of the dais and watched his sons, Siegfried and Lucius, run toward the crowd. He winked at Lucius as he lined up with the rest of the assembly.

Lucius stood behind some elder elves in long, velvet robes. He was out of breath, and some of the elves looked at him with raised eyebrows. Siegfried was as calm as ever, standing tall among his kin and waiting for the leader of the Council, Quetulya, to speak. A tall elf dressed in a flowing scarlet robe rose from the center of the dais. His eyes were fierce, but his demeanor was tranquil as he looked upon the crowd before him.

"D'arya be with you all as we gather here today. The
Cyngorell
is pleased to see so many of you here today willing to compete in this year's tournament. As many of you well know, those who claim victory today will become Protectors of Verdania and join our kin in the forests below to safeguard our land from the evils plaguing Azuleah. But this honor cannot be bestowed on any elf ... or man," he said while glancing at Lucius, whose eyes lowered to the ground. "Only those whose skills with a bow and a sword surpass the challenges ahead will be deemed worthy by this Council to serve the Great Tree."

A brief applause came from the crowd as Quetulya sat down. An elf with braided blonde hair and thin eyebrows stood up beside him. He stretched out his arms and recited a poem in the elven tongue honoring D'arya. Then he opened a scroll set on the dais and called out the names of those competing in the tournament. Lucius straightened his posture when his name was called.

"Please step forth from the crowd and join Kiret and Athri on the green seal," the elf said, gesturing toward the large green circle just a few feet from the dais.

Lucius and Siegfried moved through the crowd to the seal where two elves with long, slim swords stood. They wore light armor with a dark green elvish oak emblazoned on the front and back of their torsos. Their greaves gleamed in the sunlight and revealed elven inscriptions. Lucius was most impressed at the artistry of the Protectors' weapons. The elven blades were a curved shape, and the brown leather scabbards bore the rune of D'arya.

Lucius watched as both Kiret and Athri bowed their heads slightly when the competitors assembled on the seal. Kiret, a shorter male elf with brown hair tied in a knot, motioned to one of his kinsman holding two swords to come forward. Kiret sheathed his sword and took the two swords from the elf's hands. He then signaled Athri with a nod to address the assembly.

"D'arya be with you all who compete here today," the darker-skinned and slender female elf said. "To begin we shall test your efficiency and grace with these elvish swords in combat. Your opponent shall be Kiret. Whoever deals the fatal stroke shall be considered the victor, but the graceful control of your swordplay will be taken into account above victory by the
Cyngorell
's ruling. Let the first warrior step forward."

A young, ruddy elf stepped forward and took hold of one of the swords Kiret handed him. They quickly squared off against each other, Kiret leading the first offensive blow. The young elf parried it gracefully. Kiret thrust his sword at his opponent's chest with ferocious speed, but the elf sidestepped the attack and swung his blade toward Kiret's neck. Kiret anticipated the move and quickly brought his sword up to his face, parrying the swing with a resounding clang. He then lunged forward with his shoulder, catching the young elf off guard, and swept him with his right foot. As soon as the elf hit the ground, Kiret's blade hovered just an inch above his throat. "Next competitor!" he shouted, then helped the defeated elf to his feet.