Chapter Seven: The Elven Queen

Marwenna awoke with a start, sweat covered her body as she began to shake uncontrollably, harsh breaths taken in as she attempted to bring herself back to stability.

On her hand, a mark glowed with a terrific heat. While it didn't burn her, it was hot enough to be uncomfortable and she knew exactly what the mark meant.

Someone had interfered with Corus' statue.

She immediately threw herself out of bed and, with a thought, the mark on her hand disappeared. She grabbed her robe and put it on before throwing open the doors of the royal bedchamber.

As always, a guard stood on the other side leaning heavily on the spear in his hand as his shield leaned against the wall, emblazoned across his chest was the symbol of the royal house. A white tree with a sword burned into it's trunk.

“Wake up, you fool!” hissed Marwen as the guard, eyes suddenly snapping open, realised his queen was up and stood to attention, his eyes blurring with tiredness and panic.

“Forgive me, my queen!” shouted the guard, as if he was trying to banish his foolishness with a battle cry. Marwen placed her hand against her head.

“I wish for you to awaken the Knight Descendants at once and have them meet me in the throne room!”

“Of course, my queen, whatever you desire.” The guard smashed his gauntlet into the tree and sword in a salute before grabbing his shield and turning to walk down the wide hall.

“Run you idiot!” Marwen shouted after the guard.

The man panicked yet again and immediately threw his spear and shield to the ground before taking off at a dead sprint.

Even for an elf, this man's speed was something to be admired.

Without missing a beat, Marwen slammed the doors of the bedchamber closed and pulled off her robe, moving to the wardrobe to prepare to receive her guests.

“Marwen, what's wrong?” A voice from the other side of the bed said tiredly.

She paused and turned to look at the man in the large ornate bed, the half asleep form of her husband, Valant the Elven King.

Valant had barely changed over the years and still retained his piercing eyes and strong physique. He had made sure, even as King to never allow himself to become 'soft' like rulers on times past. He rose from the bed and made his way over to her with the skilled grace of an accomplished warrior.

Marwen's frantic eyes softened as they fell upon the man whom she loved.

“Forgive me, I have just received some news that put me in quite the state.” She almost whispered as she turned to face the mirror that was placed in the large room that was her wardrobe.

She too had barely changed these past few hundred years. Her eyes till shone with a dark mysterious light as her long dark hair, usually worn up, was cascading down upon her shoulders. One of the bonuses of being an elf, longevity. Humans especially felt it was unfair that elves got to live for so long. Marwen had always viewed such a thing as more of a double edged sword. While yes, they lived for thousands of years, they also never got the experience of looking at life like a human. For humanity, their short lives meant that every moment was much more vivid. It was a precious gift that they didn't know they possessed.

As she thought of humanity, she couldn't help but think of the one member of the race that had held a dear place in her heart.

Corus.

Her hands clenched at her side as the image of the one she had followed throughout her life came to the forefront of her mind.

And of what she had done to him.

“Marwen?”

Valant's voice brought Marwen back to reality as she let loose the tension in her body. She felt Valant's hands gently place themselves on her shoulders and begin to massage them. She leaned back into him as she exhaled in relief. Valant had always been able to keep her calm.

“What happened?” He said gently, the motion of his hands never stopping.

“It's Corus' statue in Ellai, someone has tampered with it, though I know not for what purpose.” She whispered as her eyes closed and she enjoyed the feeling of her husbands hands on her shoulders. The statue was enchanted heavily by Marwen herself and the symbol placed on the neck of the golden memorial could incapacitate anyone unprepared to receive the sudden burst of lightning that emerged from within it. However, it had a second purpose of deterring thieves by making the statue seem like it was not worth the effort. A potent example of Marwen's powerful mind manipulation magic.

The hands tensed up slightly at the mention of the name of The Rebel King. Valant still held a grudge against Corus, believing the man to be a manipulator who had poisoned the hearts and minds of all around him.

“I don't understand why you are so worried. Corus was a madman and a traitor who turned you into a puppet. Why do you insist on keeping up the charade?” asked Valant, almost accusingly.

With those words Marwen brushed Valant's hands from her and began to get dressed as he waited in the doorway, leaning against the carved wood frame and waiting for an answer.

It was only after Marwen had completed her preparations to leave the royal bedchamber and put on a one of the many formal gowns that she owned before she replied.

“We have talked, and argued, about this for as long as he as been dead. The people need a symbol, an idea to rally around, even in times of peace.”

“But you could be that symbol as easily as Corus!” Valant said with a raised voice.

Marwen fixed him with a withering stare.

“No I cannot. Corus was The Rebel King, the man in the mask who could do the impossible. I was merely one of his Generals. People don't rally behind a servant, they rally behind a leader!” Marwen exclaimed. Without another word she walked past her husband and made her way to the door.

“After all he has done, you still love him, don't you.”

Marwen stopped at hearing those words and turned to face her husband, whose eyes were filled with a bitter anger. Even in the darkness of the room, the moonlight that came through the stain glassed windows clearly illuminated Valant's figure as he tuned himself to face his wife.

Valant's bouts of jealously at Corus were rarer now than they had been centuries ago. But Marwen understood why he felt the way he did. Corus had been such a large part of Marwen's life.

“I am going to send the children to Ellai to clean up this mess.” Marwen said, and as she did, Valant looked up in surprise.

“You're going to send the Knight Descendants? Truly? But Mahalis-” Valant asked, his voice filled with surprise.

Marwen cut her husband off with a raised hand “I know, but they need some time to bond, they are expected to act like a team. Just like the Knights were under Corus. And besides, I want to make sure the sword is still there, anyone who can get close enough to activate the enchantment on the statue must be a mage, there's no other explanation, and if they escaped it's effects they may make a move towards the towers. And sending the four of them, with their guard in tow, will have a higher chance of containing the situation than a squad of Zalari. They were trained by the best after all.”

Marwen turned again to leave before pausing with her hand on the door.

“I loved him once, Valant. But I do not believe that it was truly me who loved him. He manipulated us all and I will never forgive him for that. But he must remain the image of the shining knight who saved the world from the accursed church.” Marwen whispered as she peered over her shoulder at her husband “If the others were to find out that I had killed him, they wouldn't believe that he did what he did. The loved him and, well, let's just say the best case scenario would be Faral attacking the city with an army of sea raiders.”

“And the worst case?” asked her husband

Marwen gave a bitter smile.

“Cinder attacks the city by herself.”

With those heavy words hanging in the air, Marwen leaves the room and a now silent Valant as she makes her way down to the throne room.

* * *

Opulence. That was the only way to describe the palace in Callai.

The city itself was built on an island that was about a mile from the mainland and over the centuries it had grown to cover the island entirely. Everywhere you looked you could see the beauty of elven architecture. Some buildings took decades to complete and the palace itself was no exception. Built into a large mountain that stood at the islands western edge, the palace was colossal, having been built to be a fortress in the case of a siege, and no expense was spared in it's construction. Grand spires and huge walls that glimmered with the moonlight. The palace was constantly illuminated by torches and the shadows playing off the sides of the many buildings that made up it's complex structure all seemed to add to the beauty.

Inside was a labyrinth of winding corridors and rooms that one could quite easily lose themselves in without the proper guidance. Another method of security.

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At the very centre of this maze was the throne room, a huge hall that could fit three thousand people and it regularly did, as the throne room also doubled as the banquet hall where travelling dignitaries are hosted. The walls were made of wood, like the rest of the palace, but it had been heavily enchanted to resist the wear of time and even repel most magic.

At the back of the hall stood two thrones carved from white wood from the Carto tree, the symbol of the royal house. Scorched into the back of each chair was the shape of a sword, as if it had been burned on the surface.

One of these thrones was currently occupied by Marwen, Queen of the Elves, as she rested her cheek in her closed fist. Tapping a foot against the ground impatisntly as she awaited the arrival of the Knight Descendants.

After what seemed like an age, the large doors at the opposite end of the throne room were suddenly thrown open as the royal herald stepped forwards, obviously having just woken up if his dishevelled hair is anything to go by.

He walked towards the throne at a slow and even pace, as tradition dictated.

Marwen could only grit her teeth as she silently urged the man to hurry up and get on with the announcements. Tradition was one thing, but sometimes she believed the elven nobles just really wanted to waste her time.

She took a moment to close her eyes and calm her mind. She needed to remain on an even keel. She was a Knight no longer and needed to play the part of head of state.

So, with silent screams, Marwen tried to look noble as she cast her gaze towards the royal herald. When he was ten feet from her he finally stopped.

“My Queen! I present to you the Knight Descendants of The Rebel Court!” the herald shouted with his rich timbre of a voice, the only reason he had received such a prodigious position.

“The Lord Dran! Descendant of Drogna!”

The first one of the Knight Descendants to enter the throne room was a dwarf. Dran looked very much like Drogna except for the lack of a beard. While only four and a half feet tall, he was large compared to the stature of other dwarves and he was garbed in solid black plate armour that he had constructed himself which seemed to only add to his size further. The large axe that was strapped to his back had also been created by him. Dran was the first descendant of Drogna with the ability to use magic and he did so very skilfully. Although he was only in his late teen's Dran was one of the best blacksmiths in Holduren and his skills were sought after by many nobles, both dwarven and otherwise.

The strange thing about Dran was that he refused to grow a beard, like his father and grandfather before him. he also cut his hair short, which is seen as something of an insult in Holduren, the dwarven homeland. Despite the complaints however, Dran just kept saying that it would get in the way when he forged. Which shut many dwarves up, as those who were blacksmiths knew that catching your beard on fire was an all too common problem when you worked the forge.

Dran gave a quick bow and stood at about five feet from her, his eyes constantly forward.

“May I present the Prince of the Sea, Lord Lor! Descendant of Faral!”

Next to step up was a boy whose age was similar to Dran's. But where the Dwarven Descendant was serious this man was... not.

Dressed in casual flared cotton trousers and an open vest, Lor had a scimitar swinging at his side as he stepped forward with a cocky smile on his face. He was a handsome boy, a half-elf. With his mother's amber eyes and golden hair that matched nicely with his father's grin, he had stolen the hearts of many maidens, or so the story goes.

Lor took his place beside Dran and immediately stretched and yawned, to which Dran replied with a stern glare.

Although Lor appeared to be a fool, he was perhaps the finest swordsman on the continent, surpassing even Valant when they had sparred together a few days prior. Although he had never fought Marwen, who had been taught by The Rebel King himself.

“May I present the Lady Kara! First Daughter of Humanity and Descendant of Heilvol!”

The only female among the Descendants stepped forward next. Wearing dark and worn leather armour that was crafted by the finest leather workers the humans had to offer, she was a picture of grace and elegance though she was dressed for battle. Dark, almost black, hair was pulled back behind her head in a pony tale and her pale blue eyes seemed to glow in the torchlight.

A powerful mage, Kara was also the first descendant of Heilvol to have the ability to use magic, a feat that was made all the greater when one took into account it's rarity among humans.

At her side was the longsword that had been passed down through the generations. It was the same sword used by Heilvol and was named Furela, meaning 'the flower of war''.

As Kara came and took her place beside Lor, who turned and gave her wink, she merely rolled her eyes and continued to stare forwards.

“And finally, may I present Lord Mahalis! Prince of the Elven Empire and descendent of Marwen!”

With those final words Marwen's son entered the room.

Mahalis had his father's light blonde hair and his mothers deep blue eyes, he was treasured by the people of Vermalia because of his status as Prince, but the mere fact that there was a royal heir was cause for weeks of celebration upon his birth.

Elves have children very rarely, but when they do it is seen as a gift from the Gods. Something to be cherished above all others.

Marwen was already seen as quite young to have a child as she was only a thousand years old. When it had happened she and Valant had been joyously happy and, for a time, she had managed to forget about Corus.

For a time.

The First Son of the Empire came forward wearing light silvery armour that covered his body. At his side was The Angelis, Marwen's old blade now passed down to her son, his hand lightly resting on its pommel.

As he took his place beside Kara he sent her a sideways smile, to which she replied with another roll of her eyes. Mahalis looked away with the slight red of embarrassment crawling onto his face.

Marwen could only sigh at her son's attempts to flirt.

Mahalis had made it quite clear that he wished to wed the Lady Kara, however, she did not seem interested in anyone. The girl had quite the mean streak and took her role as a Descendant very seriously. The gifts that Mahalis sent her when she had been in Faroth were all returned and he had sent quite a few.

“The Knight Descendants, your Majesty!” Exclaimed the herald before he bowed and left the room, the doors closed behind him with a hollow boom and suddenly there was complete silence as Marwen found herself alone with the Knight Descendants.

She began to second guess herself.

Is it really a good idea to send the children to Ellai? They have to go there anyway as part of the pilgrimage to pay their respects to the fallen and to the Rebel King, but it could be dangerous. The sigil she had placed on the statue had activated. If that were the case then the thief would be unconscious for three days, which was more than enough time to fetch whoever it was and drop them off in the nearest city. But if it truly was a mage, as she suspected, then it would not be so easy.

She looked at the faces of the warriors in front of her, one of which was her own son. Marwen only wished Cinder had decided to have a child, then there would be more within their number. Abhor was a lost cause, he has not left his cave in centuries.

“Greetings, Knight Descendants.” Said Marwen in a stately tone, all the while containing the worry that fought inside of her.

“Greetings, Knight Marwen!” All four of them said in unison before taking a knee before her.

The reason they did not refer to her as Queen was the rules that had been created centuries before. The Knight Descendants were the blood relatives of the original six Knights. In order to continually solidify the relationships between all the races, one member of the Knight's family must be sent forward and be put into a group known as the Knight Descendants. While they were more ceremonial that anything else, this was the first time there had been more than two Knight Descendants at a time and it would be good for the people if they saw the blood of the original six take a spiritual pilgrimage together around Vita, as they did every ten years. Together they would visit the original cities of the Knights, paying their respects to those who have fallen and to those who yet lived. As well as visit the city of Ellai, where they would pay their respects to Corus and swear an oath before his statue that they would serve and protect him until their dying day.

Just like the oath Marwen and the others had made so many years ago.

This idea was not her own, but Heilvol's. He knew that he would die and he didn't want every race to slip into the old ways of isolating themselves from each other after himself and Drogna were gone and could not act as a bridge between the humans and the dwarves to the rest of the continent. The Knight Descendants were an elegant solution. The Knights of The Rebel Court were already seen as legendary heroes and The Rebel King was seen as something divine. So why not capitalize on that and continue to have Knight's who would unite the races.

While it was harder to get the Vampires and the Wolf-kind involved, they still participated in the pilgrimage. From the rumours that had been flying around Vita, Cinder had no interest in the world outside the safety of her citadel in the Scarl Forest and Abhor... well, Abhor just wanted nothing to do with anyone.

As a result of the formation of the Knight Descendants, The title of Knight was seen as higher than any title of royalty. So that was the title they used to address Marwen.

“I have a task I must ask of you before you fully begin your pilgrimage.” said Marwen as she gravely lifted her eyes to make eye contact with each of the Descendants in turn, lingering on her son for a moment longer.

“Just name it my Lady and we will happily oblige” Lor said with a smirk as he gave a mock bow.

The elbow that Dran sent him was avoided easily enough and he gave a short laugh at the Dwarf.

“What task would you ask of us, Mother?” Mahalis' voice called out curiously, his hand never leaving The Angelis at his waist.

Marwen took a deep breath “I would have you all go east to the ruined city of Ellai”

She quickly raised a hand to cut off any protests from the group as they opened their mouths to complain.

Usually Ellai was the hardest part of the pilgrimage as it required going through the narrow path through the Cold Shears.

“I know it is usually the last stop on the pilgrimage, but you must do this” said the Queen “I believe that someone has been tampering with Corus' statue, the one I enchanted myself. I need you to catch the thief and continue from Ellai to the Scarl Forest to begin your pilgrimage and pass over the one who tried to steal from The King to Queen Cinder.” Finished Marwen as she leaned back in her throne.

“I can understand the need to defend the King's statue, my lady, but why send us? I'm sure that there are many who would gladly go to ensure the safety of The Rebel King's grave.” This time it was the silky voice of Kara, Princess of Humanity. While she was beautiful, the intelligence in her eye's was something else completely. Marwen could feel herself being pulled in by that strong gaze.

“I knew that would be asked, Kara. You see, I am not sending you to defend the statue, I am sending you to check The King's tower that lies at the cities highest point.”

All four of the youths looked confused as they glanced at each other.

“But why?” the gruff voice of Dran sounded out into the throne room.

Marwen pursed her lips and an expression of uncertainty passed over her expression for a second before it was gone.

“I need you to ensure that Xolumbrandir is still asleep in the tower.” Marwen said.

Again the four youths looked at each other, but now it was excitement on their faces instead of confusion.

“Yes! I finally get to see the sword used by The King himself! Can I keep it if I find it first?” Lor shouted in an expression of true glee. For someone like him, who was obsessed with swordplay, seeing the sword of one of his greatest heroes, who was an unrivalled master, made him giddy.

“No you may not Lor, none of you can keep the sword, nor can you even touch it.” Marwen said sternly, her voice having the weight of a hammer as it brought the Descendants to silence.

“Mother, I'm sure we can handle the sword, it cannot be as powerful as the stories say” Said Mahalis stubbornly as he took a step forward.

Marwen stared down at her son with a fierce expression. After a moment, Mahalis turned his eyes away from his mother and stepped back into line. But the stubborn expression never left his face.

“Hear me well, Knight Descendants, none of you must touch or approach the sword. Make your way to the top of the tower and ensure that it is still there, then hastily retreat. If it is gone, then you will continue, as planned, on to the Scarl Forest and send a message to me by carrier. You will also tell Cinder, she will know what to do.” Marwen said, her stern tone of voice never changing.

“And what if we catch the culprit as they are leaving with the sword?” asks Kara with a determined expression.

There was a slight pause and Marwen also thought of that possibility. She thought about centuries before, when a man other than Corus had wielded the Xolumbrandir and a shiver ran down her spine.

“You will run Kara, all of you will run, and pray whoever they are, they do not follow.”