It was the kind of day when the air tasted sweet and the wind seemed to sing. Valinos walked on, the tower, the birds, and the girl far behind him now. There was a strange burning sensation in his chest, a peculiar energy he could not put his finger on, a bizarre sense of freedom. Like the freshness of a clear sky after a storm.
He stepped through the grounds of Fara’ethar, passing grey buildings and grey servants. But he was a splash of colour. Suddenly, even unexpectedly, vivid. For Valinos, the moment of clarity among the birds burst like breaking light through heavy clouds.
The weight of rash words and brasher actions pressed upon him. The uneasiness he had felt these previous days spilled over into his demeanour around his friend and the castle folk. Valinos realised he had alienated himself and those who would help him. With his head cooled and his mind cleared, he saw that there were things to do. Yes, apologies to be made.
As he wandered through the courtyard, intending to head for the Main Hall, a dash of black stained the coloured canvas. He winced. A thin sliver of pain in his leg whispered to him, and every heartbeat pushed through shards of glass. No, this was not over.
But Shurun’el could wait. Mystery or no, Valinos was glad to be far away from Silnodìr at last. He was at least content with that fact. The life he’d led under the scrutiny of hostile villagers was gone. Far behind him. Whatever lay ahead, whatever answers he would find here, he decided in this momentary lucidity that he was to make the most of it.
‘Going somewhere, boy?’ a voice called out from behind him.
Valinos spun, only to face Amarant Darius, who was sitting near the steps of the Hall of the Elders. Tucked between two pillars, the man seemed to be observing, watching the crowd. And watching Valinos in particular with eyes of blue steel.
‘Have you been following me?’ Valinos asked.
‘Not exactly. But I have kept an eye on you. Long enough to know you’ve been poking about.’
Valinos drew nearer, and as he did so, he felt the air tighten. He sharpened his gaze to try and match the Amarant’s own intimidating stare but it was to no avail. Darius had him beat when it came to brooding glares. But he had not come here to practice his moody chops or fan the flames, but to apologise.
‘Forgive me for taking matters into my own hands,’ Valinos said. Darius narrowed his eyes. ‘But about what happened earlier today… at the meeting…’
‘You spoke foolish words. You did not know your place. You disrespected Lord Amaleron and his hospitality.’
Valinos flinched at each phrase, the accusations coming down like hammers.
‘But I fared little better,’ Darius said resignedly. He hung his head slightly, the hardness in his eyes receding. Valinos grimaced inwardly, preparing for perhaps another blow, but it never came. ‘I’m sorry. I should not have lashed at you as I did,’ Darius continued. ‘It’s a failing of mine to strike when provoked.’
‘Don’t dwell on it,’ Valinos said dismissively. ‘If the mood had been lighter, Asphales would have said I had it coming. I’m sure he’s even wanted to do it himself on occasion.’
Darius let out a short breath of laughter like a wisp of snowfall. ‘Yes, on occasion. My own men have probably wanted to do the same to me.’ The man’s features brightened for a moment, but then settled back into haggardness. ‘Still, you caused quite a stir, as did El’enur. Both of you unsettled the proceedings.’
It was only then that Valinos noticed the weight this man seemed to carry. The Amarant was heavy with battle. He wore it on his shoulders and around his languid eyes. Even his voice seemed burdened with the pressures of war. His apparel showed the same signs of wear. The metal insignias which held the Amarant’s coat bore scratched-out wolf’s heads, but whether that was intentional or due to time’s natural decay he did not know. Even the black claymore on which Darius’ arm rested held its own story, each nick and scratch surely a bloody chapter.
‘I apologise again,’ Valinos said. ‘I spoke and acted out of ignorance.’
Darius sighed. ‘Well, with all that has happened to you this past tide, you can’t be entirely to blame. You’ve had to see and do things that no man unaccustomed to battle should experience. And there are matters going on far beyond our grasp.’
‘It’s just that,’ Valinos said, looking down, ‘I felt that you didn’t care for your own fallen men. I was concerned that the company was nothing more to you than another casualty of conflict.’ Valinos could not help clenching his fists as he spoke.
‘So your solution was to draw the dagger and rush out for vengeance? Don’t be foolish, boy. We’ll get our chance to strike, but hotheadedness is not going to help.’
‘Yeah, I see that. Don’t worry, I’ve cooled my head now.’
‘And no,’ Darius said with a tone that punctured like shattering ice, ‘I do not think that way of my comrades. I knew those men better than you suppose. I drank, and fought, and bled with them. I chose them for that skirmish and I owe them for getting you and the other boy out safe. Their loss grieves me.’
‘So what will you do? What do you know of Shurun’el? Of the Order?’
‘He is misery and ruin. He’s grown to be a serpent and a fiend. I advise against pursuing him. At least on your own.’
‘How do you know him?’
‘That is not a story I share lightly. I desire neither your pity nor your help, so forgive me if I spare you the details. But know that he and I, and the Order too, have a history. One I intend to bring to a close.’
The words reassured Valinos as much as they frightened him. There was no doubt the Amarant was intent on carrying out his resolution. But Valinos was still unsettled. The Order seemed far beyond him. Shurun’el far outmatched him. Yet he wanted a part to play in whatever would happen.
‘You are a storm on the horizon,’ Darius said suddenly, as if reading his thoughts. ‘You remind me of myself.’
‘With all due respect, I don’t think we are alike. Have you ever known a family? Did you have a mother and a father?’
‘Yes, in a sense.’
‘Well, then we have nothing—’
‘I killed them with my own hands.’
Valinos drew back in silence. Darius’ gaze was hard and unflinching. This was no jest.
‘I still wonder if I would have turned out better had I never had my parents’ input,’ Darius spoke. ‘Humph. Idle musings. But yes, I know what it’s like to want to prove yourself. To do whatever it takes to find your place. I know the aimlessness.’
Confusion wrested Valinos from the clarity he had settled into earlier. How could a luxury he had never known be such a bane to another? Already the man had walked a longer, darker path and yet he seemed to have trod similar stepping stones.
‘I don’t pretend to know your story,’ Darius said, ‘but I recognise the eyes of a fellow in danger of being lost. Growing up in Kerena was hell, but given the shape of the world and the state of things, I don’t suppose it’s much different elsewhere. That’s why I warned you earlier. Don’t become like me. I’ve done foolish and terrible things. I don’t wish to see them repeated in the life of another. Don’t let your anger take you. The rage you harbour will consume you otherwise.’
Valinos sat stunned. ‘Why—’ he stammered, but he could not complete his thoughts. ‘What do you fight for now, Darius? Do you fight for justice?’
Darius chuckled. ‘You’re starting to sound like Ledner. No, nothing so redemptive as that. I am simply killing on the other side of the fence. You see, I learned that life falls and fades as quick as snowflakes. I spent many years wandering, finding nothing but waste and pain. But this position as Amarant, it is all I have now. My last chance to use these bloodied hands of mine to protect and serve.’
‘I see,’ was all Valinos could say. Both men stood wordlessly as the bleeding sky was drained of colour and day slowly settled into night. Torched flickered to life, staying the advance of dread and darkness. Valinos reflected on those he had met this day, and how they had dealt with their displacement. A girl who stayed where she was useful in spite of doubt. A man who made mistakes and learned from them in spite of guilt. What would he do?
‘So you grew up in Kerena,’ Valinos said eventually to break the silence. ‘If Asphales knew, he’d ask you a million questions. He loves the stories.’
‘There’s nothing to love there, I’m afraid. And either way, I imagine more will be asked of him in this coming time.’
‘What do you mean?’
Darius raised an eyebrow. ‘Ah, you walked out before there was a chance to explain the reason behind our meeting. You should ask your friend about it yourself. It will do you both good. You’ll need to know before the next council, anyway.’
Valinos thought back to his undignified exit at the meeting. ‘Yes, it would be good to talk to him again. There’s—’
A creak and a commotion behind Valinos interrupted him. The gates of Fara’ethar were opening and soldiers seemed to be gathering. Valinos looked to Darius, who had readied himself off the wall of the Hall.
‘What’s happening?’ Valinos asked.
‘I’ve been waiting for someone,’ Darius replied. ‘And it seems they’ve arrived.’
The Amarant began marching through the courtyard toward the Lion Gate, and Valinos followed expectantly. A crowd had already formed near the gate, and Valinos spotted Ithilìr among the people. The sturdy servant noticed the Amarant’s approach and drew near. He walked with his customary efficiency and severity of character.
‘Ithilìr,’ Darius called. ‘Is it them?’
‘Yes, my lord. Lady Catena and master Ishak have returned.’ Ithilìr acknowledged Valinos with a nod. ‘Good to see you well also, master Valinos.’
As soon as he had spoken, the trotting of a horse splintered through the evening. The crowd parted as a wily black stallion emerged through the gates, bearing a man Valinos did not recognise and the scarlet-haired woman from the forest.
‘Whoa,’ called the rider, halting the horse inches away from the group. Up close, Valinos realised this was the same rider who had nearly knocked them down on their arrival at Fara’ethar.
‘Good to see you again, Ishak,’ said Darius.
‘You were right about Masìlminur, my lord,’ Ishak panted as he dismounted. ‘Never tired out and galloped the course faster than I thought possible.’ The horse let out a proud snort.
The rider handed the reins to the Amarant, who took them gladly. Darius fondled the horse’s mane and pressed his head against it. ‘Hello, old boy,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve done well.’
‘It is good to see you, Darius,’ the woman called. She hopped off the horse, her hair a brilliant, wild flame in the evening. The knight’s armour clinked as she landed on the cobblestone. Then she straightened herself and came near the icy warrior.
‘Evening, lady Catena,’ he said warmly. ‘I’m glad you made it so speedily. There are… well, there are quite a few things to discuss.’
‘Yes, I should imagine so.’ She threw Valinos a glance. Her emerald eyes were unreadable. ‘Good evening, Valinos. I am so glad to see you well.’ There was genuine relief in the woman’s voice.
‘Who’s this?’ asked Ishak somewhat coldly, eyeing him.
‘Ishak, this is Valinos of Silnodìr. He is one of the two men I was to meet up with and escort to Fara’ethar. It seems they’ve done a fine job finding their own way.’
‘Oh, blessed Regulus,’ Ishak gushed, and looked about ready to embrace the boy. ‘You made it. And your companion is well, I suppose?’
‘He’s…’ Valinos began.
‘He’s fine,’ Darius cut in. ‘Most likely with the steward at the moment.’
‘Is that so?’ the knight asked. ‘Good. Good to hear it.’
‘Well,’ Ithilìr burst in, making his presence known, ‘now that we’ve exchanged pleasantries, we should be moving along. We must ready things for tomorrow.’
‘Ah, Ithilìr!’ the woman cried. ‘I have missed your antics. It’s good to be back.’
‘Good evening, my lady,’ the servant said with a curt bow. ‘But time is of the essence. Several things require your attention before the council tomorrow.’
‘A council?’ Valinos asked.
‘Yes, boy,’ said Darius. ‘While you were out visiting birds, Amaleron has made preparations for another meeting tomorrow. Try not to run out of this one.’ Valinos flustered at the reminder.
‘I must’ve missed something,’ Ishak commented. ‘Anyway, I best be moving as well. And while I’m at it, I should find a meal. I’m famished.’
‘Ishak, thank you again for running this errand for me,’ Darius said.
‘Anything to assist, my lord.’ With that, Ishak waved and walked off into shadow.
‘I will take Masìlminur to the stables,’ Darius said. ‘My lady, find me tonight if you wish a report of developments in the time you’ve been away. Valinos, go find your friend. Be ready for tomorrow.’ The Amarant led his beast and left with nothing but footsteps in his wake.
‘Yes, I will collect you when the time comes,’ Ithilìr said. ‘But now that my favourite job of all—putting you lot on task, is done, I must be going. My lady, I apologise that your reception has not been more dignified, but times are dire. You’ll discover so at the council. Now, if you’d excuse me.’ The servant turned briskly and departed, even his steps seeming to keep track of time.
Valinos now stood alone with the woman. She looked imposing in the torchlight, her armour afire with furious red and orange. Her silver blade was at the ready, strapped to her side.
‘You’re looking much better,’ she said.
Valinos wasn’t sure if she was referring to his health or to the fact he had taken the shears to his head and beard. ‘Listen,’ he began. ‘I never got to thank you for what you did…’ He rubbed at his leg where the wound had bitten. It seemed a lifetime ago.
The knight held up a hand and watched him kindly. ‘No, it was the least I could do. It is my duty.’
‘Still, I feel like I haven’t treated you right. If you hadn’t done what you did, neither Asphales nor I would have made it out alive. And it seems there are strange things afoot, something bigger that I can’t even wrap my head around. So, um, I’m glad you saved us.’
‘Yes, and I am happy everything turned out alright. Now, this wouldn’t have anything to do with my being an Amarant? Where is your usual temerity?’
Valinos chuckled nervously, but the woman’s gaze was soft, even playful. ‘Well, I admit I was not aware of that detail until later. Asphales picked it up, somehow. I think it’s because he idolises anything to do with Fara’ethar and its military and history. He knows all the stories.’
‘Songs and stories are good, Valinos. They help us find our way and our place.’
‘Maybe so.’ For the first time, Valinos found that he could not scoff at the value of stories, given all that had happened recently. He left his doubts unspoken, however. What story did he fit into?
‘Now, I’m afraid I must leave as well,’ the knight said. ‘I have been away for too long. When you find Asphales, tell him that he shares good tales.’
‘Of course. So long.’
‘Starlight guide you,’ she said with a gesture, and headed off across the bailey. Her gait made her seem as at home in the fortress as in her forest.
In the quiet moments that followed, Valinos remained solitary in the courtyard with his thoughts. The only sounds were the murmurs of distant conversations from dispersed crowds. His time spent at Birdswatch came back, and the freedom he felt among those birds. His conversation with Amarant Darius had left an indelible mark on him also. And last of all, there were the words of the forest knight.
Stories are good. They help us find our way and our place.
He knew he had to find Asphales and make things right. Ithilìr had mentioned the Hall of Records as the repository of the Empire’s history. As good a place as any to find his friend. Surely the vast collection of books would have attracted Asphales by now, keen as he was to learn the story of starlight. Valinos looked around, orienting himself and finding the rectangular building.
He made off in the direction of the Hall. Night had fallen. A breeze whisked through the courtyard of Fara’ethar. The wind was still singing. But Valinos wondered what kind of song he would hear.
* * *
Asphales was surrounded by words. Books. Books as far as the eye could see. From his vantage point toward the rear of the room, shelves spread out evenly into the dim distance, like laden ships lined up in a dockyard. But the only rocking was that of his own, his excitement lapping to the surface. The place itself was silent and still. The wood of these shelf-ships seemed to show its age, settled with the weight of ancient words and the caress of secrets. The musk of old pages was in the air. Scholars with blue woven into their hair shuffled about noiselessly, as if to avoid disturbance in the lair of a beast.
The dying day outside cast its last light through high windows but it was already receding like a tide. Study lanterns sprang to life on other desks and in sconces suspended above reading cloisters all around the library of the Hall of Records. Asphales reached for the dial on his own lamp and turned it a few notches. The device clicked and a fuzzy light sparked into a steady glow.
He tended to the stacks of books on his desk, little towers of lore and learning amassed in the short space of a day. Asphales had spent the time since the morning’s meeting in this library, poring over volumes, soaking in the Empire’s history and heroes. He had never seen this many books. In Silnodìr, he had owned his heirloom tome but aside from that, he contented himself with whatever time he could spend in the village’s modest bookshop. In this library, the endless books all called to him. Part of him wanted to do nothing but spend his hours here reading. Had events this day not transpired as they did, he may have done just that.
As it was, Asphales was now only distractedly leafing through a book detailing the exploits of Lanurel against Rath’akar, the Stone King. His fingers traced the ornate lettering on the volume’s spine. The Song of the Starfallen, it was called. But as exciting as the story was, and as much as he came here for these stories, this time a tale larger than he could imagine had come to him. It enveloped him. Made him remember. The one story not written with words washed up again. The one story etched in steel.
Asphales stole a glance beneath his desk, where his father’s coruscant blade lay, its carved surface sheathed and hidden.
Hadar. His father.
Asphales had always dreamt of a place in the story told by his book but he could never have dreamt of this. What did it mean to be an Elderchild? He pushed these thoughts away, partly because he was tired of wrestling with them in vain and partly because he wanted to return to his study.
He sighed. A single breath stirred the pages in front of him like a wind plying sails with air. Be brave, he told himself. Sail on.
‘So that’s where half the library went,’ someone called from behind him. Asphales was roused from his churning thoughts and turned in surprise. His hands instinctively covered the books scattered on the table, as if shielding them from a plunderer. A keen-eyed attendant stood proudly, comfortable in sky-blue overalls and snickering as he passed by on a presumed errand around the library. His slicked dark brown hair was knitted with blue stripes, much like that of the other workers dotting the room. Learned eyes like icy grey crystals were watching him.
‘Yes,’ Asphales said, ‘I’ve never had access to so many books before.’
‘Oh, I see. I imagine Silnodìr was somewhat lacking in literature, then?’
Asphales flinched. ‘Ah, you know who I am?’
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
‘I’ve been informed. But I apologise, I don’t mean to distract you from your study. Arhavel Renan, master of records, at your service.’ The man bowed politely with one hand spread out to the side. The loose folds of his sleeve trailed out with the sweep of his palm.
Master of records? So this man was overseer of these archives and keeper of the library. Asphales only now noticed the subtle differences telling this scholar apart from the others. His coat was a shade deeper than the rest, adorned with more golden tassels. He comported himself with more propriety, and gazed around with the familiarity one would express in his own home. Arhavel was clearly advanced in years, but the youth sculpted in his smile and laced in his voice betrayed a man of imagination.
‘Asphales Esélinor. A pleasure to meet you,’ Asphales said. ‘You tend to a wonderful collection here.’
‘Likewise, and thank you. I can see you like stories. Well, fret not. These books aren’t going anywhere, master.’ The scholar had obviously noticed Asphales’ hoard of books and looked at the cargo with curiosity. ‘Why, you’ve got there everything from’—Arhavel peeked over Asphales’ shoulders—‘Lanurel’s accounts, to the Five Kingdoms’ history, and even early Mendorian-era poetry. Quite an eclectic interest.’
‘Yes, these are all stories and songs I heard over the years. I thought I would read them in full here.’
‘Very good,’ Arhavel said. ‘But see, books are much like ships. Pretty to look at and they take you places, but you can only sail one at a time. You’ve got yourself a veritable fleet there, young master.’
‘I’ll take care not to sink it,’ Asphales said with a nod.
‘Aye aye, captain,’ the scholar said with hands up in mock surrender. Then he smiled. ‘Still, it looks like you’re sailing as if the world is about to run out of ocean. Take care, master. Tomorrow’s another day. Let me know if I can assist with anything.’ Arhavel paced away from the young man’s desk and soon vanished between the countless shelves.
Asphales returned to his books, his thoughts divided between Lanurel’s struggle on the page and Arhavel’s lesson. It had been a long day. He did need to take things easy and rest. Asphales buried his face in his hands and slumped on the desk. His wandering reflections landed on Valinos. Oh, Valinos. What would he think of all this? Asphales had not been able to find him since the meeting, but maybe it was for the best that his friend found time to himself to cool off.
‘So, can we expect that you will soon be taking the blue?’ said an elderly voice. For a moment, Asphales thought the cheeky attendant had returned, but when he whirled to see who had spoken he saw Amaleron walking toward him. The steward wore a smile on his wrinkled face and warmth was in his amber eyes. The old man seemed to capture something of the fading light and glow like… like an Elder, Asphales thought. Of course.
Amaleron approached the desk. ‘May I take a seat?’
‘Please.’
The steward leant his staff against the wall and dragged a chair from a nearby reading corner. He sat, his billowing grey cloak all but swallowing the seat.
‘Why do they do that?’ Asphales asked as the steward settled in. ‘Why do the scholars dye blue into their hair?’
‘Oh, that is an old tradition. The blue represents knowledge itself. Like the sky or the sea, wisdom appears infinite. And we can attain but mere strands of it.’
Asphales nodded.
‘It also had a practical function,’ the steward continued. ‘In the days when peace was rarer and war the common coin, the Guild’s mark made it easy to distinguish between scholar and soldier. Even in an invasion, most nations would spare the learned and preserve their knowledge while overthrowing their kingdom.’
‘Even the savage has a saving grace, then?’
‘Something like that. But anyway, I did not come here to discuss ancient customs, Asphales. Here.’ Amaleron reached into his robe and produced a velvet-bound volume, faded red and gold.
On the Reign of King Ulmìr.
Asphales had lent the steward his book earlier in the afternoon.
‘Thank you for allowing me a look at it,’ said Amaleron. ‘I believe master Arhavel would consider this a feast. But I could never ask such a thing of you.’
Asphales offered an apologetic smile.
‘That note at the beginning,’ the steward said softly.
‘My mother.’
‘Yes, I figured so. Your parents left this for you. They meant for you to one day learn of this.’
‘But they’re—’
‘Your father, yes. Hadar was slain to herald the return of the Dragonking. But your mother… This is only a hunch, but I believe she lives still.’
Asphales recoiled. It felt as though all the world was drained of sound. ‘What?’
‘I do not know why it took this long and I do not know why she would have left, but your father’s sword appeared at Fara’ethar intentionally with your name and location attached. I know of no other to whom Hadar could have entrusted his blade and his song.’
‘So you’re saying…’
‘Your mother could still be out there. I cannot guess why she moves in secret. Perhaps she is in danger. But she knew what was at stake. She knew the hope that was to be found in you. And she let the Empire know. She led us to you.’ Amaleron placed a hand on Asphales’ shoulder. ‘Please, remember this is conjecture. I would not think it wise to head out on a quest to find her. And I can speak no more on the matter.’
‘I understand.’
‘Now,’ Amaleron began, releasing his grip and adjusting his chair slightly, ‘I imagine you still have a lot of other questions. Well, I believe it is time to extend you the courtesy of whatever answers I can provide.’
Asphales sifted through the countless questions, supressing ones that would be asked in vain. For now, he had to be content with the momentary assurance that his mother lived.
‘How are you still alive?’ he finally asked. ‘You witnessed Ulmìr’s rise and downfall, and events even before that! Are Elders immortal?’
The steward considered for a moment. ‘No, but we do not age as mortal men. Our span is not undying and yet it will come to an end eventually. All beings share in starlight. The Nodirìm are simply bound to it more closely, with a greater reserve of it being available to us. Still, we can be killed as all men are. But while in this world we dwell, we feel, act, and live as all do. We can even love… for men we once were, and the blessing of Carinae yet stands.’
‘So that’s how my father Hadar…’
‘Yes. He was not exempt from the longing for companionship. Or from the ability to love and be loved. And thus you were born, Asphales, son of starlight.’
The apprehension that Asphales had felt at his identity came biting back. ‘What does that mean? How am I special? How am I meant to take this on?’ He thought of the beast and the darkness. The magnitude of a thousand-year menace pressed on him.
‘I do not know fully, for the fragments of the ode we possess only hint that those like you will fend against the spread of dark.’
‘You mentioned…’ Asphales looked down at his folded hands.
‘You are not alone in this, Asphales. Hadar was not the only one who fell for mortal woman and had a child. There was at least one other. Menkalinan, too, found love. And they had a daughter, one who holds the forests in her heart.’
Asphales’ head whipped to the side in surprise. His eyes fastened onto Amaleron. He had to stop himself from springing out of his chair.
‘You know of whom I speak. You have met her.’
Flowers in the wind.
Scarlet and emerald.
‘Adélia is a…’
‘Yes. All the better that you know her true nature as well as her real name. For you two are alike, and you shall both be entwined in the struggle against the Dragonking. It is you two whose strength shall be revealed by the ode of the Nodirìm.’
Asphales could barely register the steward’s words. He thought back to his time in Gohenur. To the knight among the flowers, the girl draped in violet hues and golden light. To the connection he had felt while sharing stories with her.
‘Asphales, are you listening?’ Amaleron cut in.
‘Ah, yes. I’m sorry. There’s just so much to take in. I think I’ve had enough revelations for one day.’ He sighed and wiped his brow.
Amaleron chuckled. ‘You are not the only one overwhelmed. I am puzzled by the design of Regulus. The strength of stars and the love of man. Somehow, this is what will combat the shadow.’
‘Is that what is meant by the reference to a ‘starry crown and blood’ in the song of sealing?’ Asphales asked, vaguely recalling a line from the hymn.
‘I believe so. Before I heard your father’s fragment, I was not sure what to make of all this. When I found out Adélia was the daughter of Menkalinan years ago I struggled to make sense of things. And then I learned of the son of Hadar. It was only when I read the runes on the sword, when his piece of the song was heard, that I realised this is perhaps how things are meant to be.’
‘What do you mean?’ Asphales asked.
The steward was silent for a moment. ‘Those of Elderlight are not meant to sire offspring,’ he said with a pensive look. His eyes were elsewhere, distant. ‘And yet,’ he continued, ‘it seems that good may come of this.’
‘So, did my father do something wrong by loving Thalassia? Was he wrong to have me?’ Though Asphales did not mean to, a flush of anger and a pang of sorrow slipped to the surface.
Amaleron looked at him earnestly. There was no disdain in his gaze, nor malice in his tone. ‘No, Asphales. I do not believe that. My mind tells me that the Nodirìm are not supposed to interfere in mortal affairs. We could guide and assist, but no more. And yet, my heart says that this is all part of how things are meant to play out.’
‘Are there others?’
‘Not that I am aware of. Asphales, I am sorry that you and Adélia carry such a burden. A great task is laid upon you. Will you still rise?’
‘Yes. For my father, for my mother, for Anardes. I cannot let the shadow conquer all I know and love.’
‘I am glad to hear that,’ Amaleron said, a warm smile playing about his lips. ‘You should speak with Amarant Adélia when she arrives.’
‘Yeah, I… I should. Why does she do that? Leave the castle, I mean. Why does Adélia stay in Gohenur?’
‘Ah, Asphales, she carries a great wound. She lost everything when Menkalinan was slain. She does not grieve only for her father and her mother, but for her home. And yet even more was taken from her than you know. So for that, she needs time to herself often.’
Asphales looked down, remembering Adélia’s brokenness and grief. There was pain behind her shielded eyes; that much he knew.
‘She also has a close connection with the forest and the land, Asphales. Instilled by her father, no doubt. Menkalinan himself expressed an affinity for all that lived in the woods. So I provided her lodgings and leave even after she attained to the rank of Amarant. It affords Fara’ethar strategy also, giving us a closer watch on Upper Anardes. The Woodland Waypoint is the convergence point for many travellers and tidings.’
The Waypoint. The moments of revelry and relaxation with the Guard flooded back. Asphales could almost smell the food and ale, and hear the laughter and song. But when he came to, what awaited him was not the mirth and brightness of the tavern, but the dim and quiet of the study hall. Darkness had settled outside and even seeped into the library, its reach stayed by the lanterns which shone like flickering stars. Scholars looked to be making preparations for closure around the chamber.
‘Well, I believe we should be moving along,’ the steward said. ‘They will close us in otherwise.’ He rose off his seat and grabbed his staff from its resting place.
‘And books make poor pillows,’ Asphales commented. He pushed his chair back and stretched his legs. He accidentally kicked the sword beneath his desk. A clatter rang through the library.
‘Oh, you brought the blade with you,’ Amaleron said, peering beneath the table. ‘That reminds me, Asphales. Soon you will need to learn the sword. I presume the company captain instructed you a little. You will resume your training.’
Asphales nodded as he picked up the sword. He unsheathed it slightly, looking at the blade. ‘How come it doesn’t shine like in the stories?’ he asked. ‘It doesn’t have the same intensity I imagined from reading Ulmìr’s account.’
Amaleron smiled. ‘My boy, the sword you hold was indeed like a star itself in your father’s hands. That was due to the strength of his lifeforce.’ He paused. ‘Astera plēie,’ he chanted softly.
In that moment, the gem at the tip of the steward’s staff pulsed to life. The rough-cut jewel let off light, a warm yellow and orange hue that enveloped the chamber for a second. Night itself was pushed back for that instant, but then the colour faded and the gem was dormant once more. Though the spectacle had been subdued, Asphales caught a glimpse of an Elder’s mastery.
‘See, when I said you will return to training, there shall be plenty new to learn. How to use your lifeforce is just such a thing. And I know precisely the man to instruct you in it.’ Amaleron smiled and gave him a look that forestalled any further questions.
‘So to training I go, then.’ Asphales returned to his sword with renewed attention, as if willing the blade to gleam. But nothing happened. He recalled the flash of brightness in the Hall of Elders, but could not repeat the feat.
‘In a little while, my boy. It is Moonspell today. Tomorrow we shall gather for council once more. There is a lot to set in order there. And afterward, I believe some celebrations are in order, for the light yet shines. But yes, very soon.’
Just then, brisk steps rounded a corner and a blue-clad figure stormed toward Asphales’ desk. Arhavel approached like a roiling cloud, apparently drawn by the steward’s unnatural lightshow.
‘I will not have anything posing a hazard around these tomes,’ he fumed. ‘Not even from the steward of Anardes. In the Hall of Records, I am ruler.’
Asphales cowered for a moment, but then he saw there was no real conflict between the two men. Both steward and librarian burst into soft, cackling laughter.
‘My friend,’ said Amaleron, ‘if I could not control this light, then strip me of my rank for I am no Nodìr…’ He cleared his throat and pointed to Asphales. ‘This one is a voracious reader. You could keep him around.’
The librarian smiled. ‘I’ve already noticed. Working late this evening, master Asphales?’ he asked, throwing a gaze in his direction.
‘Ah, no. Actually, I was just leaving. But I should probably return these first.’ Asphales glanced ruefully at his desk. The piles of books were large indeed.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Arhavel said with a wink. ‘I can do that for you. You go on ahead. How much of it did you get through?’
Asphales blushed. ‘Hardly made a dent,’ he admitted.
Arhavel laughed and then dutifully tended to the desk. Amaleron and Asphales bid him farewell and headed toward the entrance.
‘Does everyone know about you? About the Elders?’ Asphales asked as they paced the carpet. Lights died all around them, snuffed by busy attendants.
‘It is common knowledge in Fara’ethar. But for good reason, that knowledge is not to pass beyond the walls of the castle. I am sure you can already guess as to why.’
‘Yeah. It’s just so different to when I was in Silnodìr. And it makes some sense of what I experienced. The Elders were a myth there, Ulmìr a far-off name with no concern for our affairs.’
‘Yes, in that case life at Fara’ethar would be quite peculiar.’
‘And that’s how Valinos sees things. Ah, what will I tell him? Will he come with me? I don’t know how he will take this. Will who I am change things between us?’
‘You were aimless until now, Asphales. But no longer. There shall be a task ahead of you. For you, the tragedy of your childhood was a full stop that came too soon. A sentence ended prematurely. But from what you have told me, Valinos’ life is scribbled on an empty page. A torn, crumpled sheet. Blank. How will he fill it? Will he find other pages to join to his script? We cannot answer that for him. But I believe your friendship shall overcome his pride and pain. It may take some time to burn the resentment that fuelled him, but he will come around.’
‘I hope so,’ Asphales said.
And then he was there. Twenty paces ahead, at the doorway to the Hall, Valinos was walking in. Asphales stopped in his tracks, as did Valinos. He looked different. Even in the weak light of the Hall, Asphales could tell something had shifted in Valinos’ eyes. There was less of an edge to his posture, less tension in his stance.
‘Valinos!’ cried Asphales. ‘Just the person I wanted to see.’
‘You’re an easy man to find,’ Valinos said. ‘I just had to follow the smell of bookish fisherman, right up to this library.’
Asphales marched up to his friend, sword in hand and smile on his face. He glanced back at Amaleron, who merely gave a curt and approving nod. Then the two were gone, out into the night.
‘It’s been quite a strange day,’ Asphales said as he and Valinos stepped through the grey alleys of the castle grounds. ‘I don’t even know where to begin. Where have you been, though?’
Valinos sighed. ‘Well, after my less than spectacular departure from the meeting, I needed time to clear my head. Found a nice place to do just that.’
‘Are you holding up alright, my friend?’
‘I’m better.’ Valinos’ blue eyes had a strange warmth to them, a tranquillity Asphales had only rarely seen.
‘I’m glad to hear that. I didn’t know what to do once you had run out of the Hall this morning.’
‘You’re hopeless. What use is a fisherman without his bearings?’
‘I’m not a fisherman,’ Asphales contested, accompanied by a gentle fist striking Valinos’ shoulder.
Valinos laughed. ‘You’re right. Fishermen don’t usually carry swords. So what’s the story there?’ His eyes glanced down to Asphales’ blade.
Asphales slowed, his footsteps gradually receding to a halt. There was only the low hum of distant activity, somewhere within the maze of wall and brick around them. Moonlight filtered through the crowded buildings of Fara’ethar, colouring the alley in an eerie, surreal azure. Asphales collected his thoughts before continuing. What he was about to say would strain credulity, he knew.
‘Valinos, you’re not going to believe this, but… This sword belonged to my father once. It passed down to me, but the important thing is… is that he was an Elder. His name was Hadar.’
‘Hadar?’ Valinos queried. ‘As in, the Hadar, Hadar the Mighty of your storybook?’
Asphales nodded, eyes fixed on the cobblestone below and his lips pursed in anticipation of how Valinos would respond. He tapped nervously on the sword sheathed at his side.
‘If you had told me that earlier today, I would’ve called you a fool seven shades crazy.’ Valinos chuckled. ‘But I know you’re no fool, so I’m trying to whittle down that number.’
Asphales raised his eyes and tried to read the expression on Valinos’ face. It was not disbelief, nor mockery. But neither was it full, grateful acceptance.
‘Alright, so let’s assume that’s true,’ Valinos said. ‘When you lost your father twelve years ago... do you know what happened?’
‘Well, I’m still not sure who was behind it, only that the bandits we met in Gohenur are linked to them. But someone is hunting the Elders. See, if you remember the story, the Elders’ seal is connected to the Dragonking. If all the Elders die and their song is broken, Ulmìr will return. Along with something much worse.’
‘Yeah, I’ve pieced together something like that.’ Valinos began walking again, prompting Asphales to follow. ‘I still find it hard to believe that childhood book of yours was… true.’
‘You’re not the only one, Valinos. All of a sudden I find myself thrust in the middle of this story as some sort of child of starlight. I don’t know what I’m meant to be doing yet! I have no idea how I’m meant to stop anything from happening!’
‘Well, if you play your role half as well as you act that of Hadar, I’m sure you’ll be fine. As for me…’
‘Valinos, you—’
‘Don’t worry about me, Asphales. I will find something.’ There was a glint in Valinos’ eyes, a flash of ice. ‘I’m still glad we’re out of Silnodìr. That sentiment has not changed. And I’ve still got my sights on those behind the attack in the forest. If for nothing else, I will stop them because of that.’
‘I have a suspicion that what Captain Ledner taught us on the way will come in handy. There’s more to come of this, my friend.’
‘No doubt. Keep your blade sharp and your skills honed.’
‘Who would’ve thought that two simple boys from Silnodìr would end up here?’
‘Or not so simple, as it turns out. Besides, we were never right for that place.’
The two walked for some time wordlessly. They came to a surprisingly busy section of the castle grounds, weaving through a horde of servants carrying supplies. Perhaps this was preparatory for whatever ‘celebration’ Amaleron had in mind, for there seemed to be a great amount of foodstuffs carried through. Once the crowd was clear, Asphales felt it right to speak again.
‘There’s more, Valinos.’
‘Hmm?’ he said without turning.
‘My mother… she may still be alive.’
‘What? But she disappeared, didn’t she?’
‘Yes, and I still can’t make sense of that. But these recent events… the sword arriving at Fara’ethar, the Empire being made aware of my name and location. I want to believe it’s her. I want—’ Asphales found it hard to continue. Memories of his mother arose unbidden. However, she was but opaque flashes of colour, of amethyst and silver. Snippets of voice and song and laughter. He was snapped out of it by a consoling hand on his shoulder.
‘Asphales, if that’s the case,’ Valinos said, ‘there’s still a chance for you to find out what really happened. To you. Maybe even to me. I may never know what befell my parents, or what led them to—’
‘Don’t say that,’ Asphales interjected. Valinos replied with a sharp gaze and an interrupted breath.
‘Look, all I mean to say is that the pieces of our past need not be so scattered. Maybe we can finally figure it all out.’
‘If only,’ Asphales mused. ‘But I can’t just go out looking for her. If she’s out there, if she’s involved in all this… maybe one day she’ll show up.’
Valinos patted him and nodded. ‘I hope so. I would be happy for you.’
‘Valinos, will you truly be alright? For the longest time, our bond has been one around our shared confusion and pain. What would that change?’
‘Nothing,’ he said immediately. ‘We’ll forge ahead as we’ve always done.’ Valinos turned to walk again but stopped himself. ‘I admit,’ he began, ‘that I was afraid today.’
‘Of what?’
‘Of you. Of this. I was afraid that somehow I had lost the one closest to me, the only true friend I’ve known so far. When I saw how you well you fit in, in the forest and in here, I felt inferior. I could feel that you were something special. But I’m glad to know, after speaking with you again, that you haven’t changed.’
‘Of course, Valinos. Who I am doesn’t affect that. I will remain by your side. I give you my word.’ Asphales thought for a moment. Then he unsheathed the blade at this side and raised it above his head. It glistered with moonlight, each carven word a subtle shift in hue.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘Let’s make it official. I, Asphales Esélinor, solemnly make an oath to defend and assist you and to ensure that you are never alone, should all the stars above fall into the abyss. Are you with me, Valinos?’
Valinos shook his head and averted his eyes. ‘You dramatic idiot. Too bad I left my sword in my room. Otherwise I’d have cut you down where you stand to cease this embarrassment.’ Then he raised an imaginary sword in return. ‘I, Valinos of Silnodìr, hereby accept your vow and swear the same.’
Perhaps it was the lack of enthusiasm in Valinos’ voice, or simply the late hour, but both men burst into laughter. Their voices echoed through the grounds, no doubt ruining the sleep of nearby residents. But in this emboldened moment, not even Amarant Darius could mar the jest and gesture the two shared.
Lowering their actual and imaginary oath-blades, Asphales and Valinos continued the trek toward the Hall of Residence. It was only now that Asphales noticed how odd evenings were within the castle walls, for no birds or creatures of the night decorated the scene with music. Stone was a stately and silent companion.
‘So what happened between you and Amarant Darius?’ Asphales asked, filling out the silence of the night. ‘Did you run your mouth as usual?’
‘Guilty as charged,’ Valinos said with a nervous chuckle. ‘I may have said some unwise things. Darius set me straight. That Kerenani has the grip of a bear.’
‘Darius is from Kerena?’ The question exploded out of Asphales’ mouth. ‘But that means he’s a… they were…’
‘Yeah, you’d be surprised. He seems to have all the ferocity of your tales but I don’t think he’s here to pillage and pilfer. In fact, I’d say there’s far more to the man. He acts like one who carries bitter pain and guilt. But he’s tight-lipped about it.’
Asphales listened to Valinos’ account of the Amarant with surprise. He was intrigued to find out that the Kerenani—the legendary raiders of old—could be so… human. To see one in person, even if he had not realised it at the time, was unsettling and awe-inspiring. He reminded himself again how ignorant his sheltered existence in Silnodìr had been.
‘Still, he seems so scary,’ Asphales said.
‘No kidding. I spent some time with him earlier. His stare could keep cold meat frozen.’
‘Reminds me of a certain brooding friend of mine.’
Valinos sneered, throwing him a decidedly unpleasant glance. ‘But now that we’re on the topic of meat, do you reckon there’s a nice meal waiting for us at the Hall?’
‘I sure hope so. I haven’t eaten much today.’
‘Only one way to find out. Race you there?’
‘Valinos, I’m no longer a fifteen year old boy.’
‘No,’ he said, punctuating his sentence drastically, ‘but you’re still losing.’ He dashed off before the last word was formed, leaving Asphales stunned in the darkness behind him.
Spurred to action, Asphales took off after him. He ran after Valinos, who was a moving silhouette ahead of him. Shadows flitted in and out encroaching blackness as they passed street torches and their footsteps fell like an uneven drumbeat.
The walls to his left were a blur. The grounds to his right were an unmoving mass of grey in the night. And still Valinos was edging near to his victory ahead of him. Asphales bemoaned his attire. His formal gear was not particularly suited to running. He longed for the freedom of his work tunic and trousers.
In an attempt to gain the lead, Asphales took a winding corner and headed into a side-alley near the rear of the Hall of Records. He hoped the passage would emerge closer to the residential quarters. He clambered over obstacles awkwardly and had to dodge wagons and more people who were either dutifully transporting gear or gratefully heading to their homes for the night. Asphales only wished that Valinos ran into similar misfortune of traffic on his route.
After what felt like an eternity of nondescript grey walls, Asphales came out into open space. Ahead of him, less than a hundred paces away, was the Hall of Residence. He recognised its towers and its many-windowed façade. Many lights still gleamed inside. The building was alight with life.
The plan had paid off. Valinos now lagged behind him a few yards. The race would be a close call, however. Asphales pushed himself further, feeling the sharp sting of fatigue draining his stamina. A pain in his side, a memento from an unpleasant time, complained with every added step.
But the effort was worth it. He broached the perimeter of the Hall of Residence victorious. He stopped with a hand against a torchpost, huffing and wheezing. Valinos skidded to a stop not far behind him a few seconds after.
‘That,’ Valinos panted, ‘was ridiculous. And entirely unfair. I’m wounded, you know!’
‘Still,’ said Asphales, his breaths not faring much better, ‘you asked for it. And it seems I’ve won.’
‘No, you both lose,’ came a voice. It was anything but pleased.
Asphales raised himself and tried to catch his breath, only to meet the steely gaze of Ithilìr. The master-servant was fuming.
‘Never before have I had the displeasure of minding such a pair of ingrates and loiterers. What in the name of… what are you two doing?’
‘Warming up, Ithilìr,’ Valinos said after a cough. ‘It’s a cold night after a long day. Now we’re simply winding down.’
‘Master Valinos, you of all people. I heard you made quite the show of the meeting this morning.’
‘Just giving people like you something to talk about. I know how desperate you must be for excitement.’
Valinos’ tactless comment did not go down well. After a lengthy string of berating, Ithilìr grudgingly led both of them inside and brought out a meal in the foyer’s dining area. He set the table for them with all the gentleness and pleasant demeanour of a wild bear woken from hibernation only to find its cubs missing.
Between bites of honey-soaked chicken roast, steamed mushrooms, and salt-coated boiled potatoes, Asphales and Valinos shared stories of the day and made jokes at Ithilìr’s expense. Half a watch and a full glass of Senhìan orange drink later, Asphales was prepared to call it a day. He wiped his mouth with a frilled handkerchief and called his compliments to Ithilìr. To call the master-servant’s response a smile would be to stretch things.
‘Thank you, Valinos,’ he said as he rose from the table. ‘We can make something of this yet.’ He looked around the holdings of the chamber, but his gaze implied all of Fara’ethar and its life.
‘Perhaps,’ Valinos said between sips of his own beverage. ‘I don’t understand everything yet, and I still want to discover why I am here. But yes.’
‘A good night to you,’ Asphales said with a motion of exaggerated flourish.
‘By the way,’ Valinos added, as if remembering something, ‘the girl from the forest is back.’ He smirked contentedly, rose, and left for his quarters with a smug step.
Asphales watched him go before considering his words. He smiled to himself. Tonight he would watch the stars again. Watch and think and hope. It was a day for dreaming, a day for longing.