Hadespera

The 2nd of Skirophorion

The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals

The wind nipped at Arche as he left the village hall. His heart felt light for the first time in days. Ever since he’d recovered his old memories, he’d had a nagging thought that Lyssa would cast him aside when he returned, when she learned what he really was. The false memories of his friends had not helped matters. Without Myriatos, he didn’t know where he’d go. There was always Ship’s Shape, but the city was too large for him. It had too much going on already. Myriatos wasn’t much, but it was comfortable. It was home, and he wasn’t ready to give up on it.

A group of elves muttered to themselves around a small campfire. Arche wasn’t going to spare them a second thought until one called out to him.

“You there, human.”

Arche paused on one foot. Something in the way the elf had said it rubbed him the wrong way, but he did his best to put on a polite face as he turned toward the group. He could picture Lyssa having an aneurysm because he started a fight with Dawnwood within five minutes of leaving the hall. There was a reason he wasn’t the ambassador.

“What’s up?”

“You are human who entered Dawnwood, yes?”

One of the elves stood up from the fire. It was a male elf, tall and muscular with dark, braided hair that reached his shoulders and a thickly accented voice. The common language was apparently not a comfortable one.

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m Arche.”

“Arche,” the elf waved one hand in the air as if searching for the right words. “You have elvish name, but not elvish name. Is like name have meaning, but meaning not name.”

Arche frowned, not quite sure how to respond to that.

“It was given to me by an elf.”

“By exile, yes. Word spreads fast, small city. May I walk?”

Arche blinked in surprise.

“Sure.”

The elf gracefully extricated himself from the fireside and joined Arche. Standing side by side, Arche found the elf was shorter than him, but possessed a grace that Arche couldn’t hope to emulate. They walked away from the campfire group.

“I am Nestorantinatos. Friends call me Nestor. You call me Nestor, yes?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Forgive me, am not good with common speak. But have been wanting speak with you.”

Arche got the distinct impression that the elf next to him was old. Maybe not quite as old as Lord Cypress, but definitely older than most in Dawnwood. Though his face and complexion were as youthful as the rest of his kind, there was something in his movements and the way he spoke that belied an experience that just couldn’t be imitated by the young.

“Why the interest in me?”

“Because Cypress has taken interest. You are friend to daughter, even though exile, and have done service to our people. This goes long way with me.”

They walked several more steps in silence. Nestor seemed to be content to enjoy the night air while Arche tried to parse through what the elf was actually talking about.

“I was under the impression that all Dawnwood elves would despise Lyssa.”

“Many do, many do. Is easy to place blame, look at situation and say ‘I do better,’ but is hard to understand. Cypress loves daughter, will not take step to hurt her. He is good leader, good person. This is problem.”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“That because you not think. Do so.”

Arche bit his tongue and gave it some thought.

“Lyssa is the leader of a new, neighboring village. She’s also a Dawnwood exile. This would ordinarily put your village at odds with ours but Lord Cypress came with an offer of peace, instead. Now your people are worried that his ability to lead is being compromised by his love for his daughter.”

“Is terrible balance, what right for people and what right for family. Lyssanderyli only family Cypress has left. I believe he do right by both. Others not believe.”

“You’re saying that there are Dawnwood elves who disagree with Lord Cypress’s rule? Is he in danger?”

Nestor tilted his head from side to side, his body swaying with the motion. Arche thought the elf was distracted by something until he realized it was likely the old elvish version of a shrug.

“Factions rise and fall with time. Elders guide, advise. Lord Cypress not new ruler. Knows Dawnwood well. Will make right decisions. Others, not so much. You are friend to elves, but human. This makes you target for young elves. Those who misunderstand old hates, but feel”—Nestor beat his chest with both hands—“strongly. One elf rises to forefront. You know?”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Figoritolos,” Arche said. “He ambushed my team outside a dungeon. He would have killed us if he thought he could get away with it.”

“Banishment of Lyssanderyli darkens his light. Through darkness, he extinguishes others’ light. Hate runs deep to mask pain. Your position would be his, if Gregorinandiir lives.”

“My position?” Arche frowned. “I don’t follow.”

“You are close. You have,” Nestor waved a hand, searching for the right words, “confidence. Intimate knowledges, yes?”

“All right, I think I get it, let’s just stop it there.”

“Figoritolos wants this, but hates it. Hates you. Careful.”

“I will. Thank you for telling me.”

Nestor placed a hand on Arche’s shoulder and gave it a small squeeze.

“Difficult balance, people and family. Goodnight.”

Without waiting for a response, Nestor turned and headed back to the campfire with the other Dawnwood elves. Arche stared after him, then shook his head and continued walking. It wasn’t entirely surprising that someone new would be after him, though it was a little surprising that it wasn’t for something he did. Lyssa should know that there was a possible faction inside of Dawnwood that might go after Myriatos. If nothing else, it might put some of their hunters in danger, as they traveled the farthest from the safety of the village with regularity. Arche also wanted to know who exactly Nestor was. He had the feeling the elf was somebody important. One of the Elders, perhaps.

All that was a later issue, however. With a word to the guards, Arche walked through the east palisade gate and left Myriatos. From there, he headed toward the forest.

It was a dark night, a rare double-new moon where the only light was that of the stars. Nothing a simple casting of Darksight couldn’t account for. That, combined with his Psychic Sight, let him get an almost perfect sense of what was going on in his entire vicinity. It was a strange combination, seeing through his eyes but also with his mind. It was like having a perfect imagination, able to conjure an image and all its details only to open his eyes and find that it was real, all along. It was easy to get lost in the feeling, and Arche didn’t come out of his trance until he hit the treeline. That was when he felt the presence of something larger than a field mouse.

“Took you long enough,” a woman’s voice said. “Much longer and I’d have gone hunting.”

“It was a long day,” Arche replied. “Did you have any trouble?”

Aima snorted. “Hardly.”

She appeared in front of him. The full-body wrappings that protected her from the sunlight were gone, leaving her in a dark, sleeveless gown. Her skin was splotchy and pale, though it was difficult to gauge color in the dark. She was running low on blood. Arche produced a goblet and began the process of filling it.

“I spoke to Lyssa on your behalf.”

“And?”

“There’s an underground dungeon nearby. You can stay there until we figure out more appropriate lodging for you.”

Aima bared her teeth and hissed.

“So I’m to be kept like an animal? I think not.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

She turned her head away.

“Perhaps I should have stayed in Ephyra.”

“Between the Lyceum and whatever weird shit they’ve got going on at the palace, something tells me they’d be able to sniff out a vampire pretty quickly. Also, I thought it was my blood you wanted.”

He topped off the goblet and held it out to her. Blood dripped from his arm to splatter against the forest floor. Aima took the goblet from him and pressed it to her lips. They sat in silence until she finished, then Arche took the goblet back and began refilling it.

“The Sylv is full of life. Untamed and unbroken,” Aima said. “Many parts reject the light. I will build my home here.”

“That might be for the best. I’ll need a way to find you, though, if I’m to keep giving you vintage.”

“We can work out the arrangement as we go. You’re an enchanter, now, are you not? I’m sure you can find a way to communicate.”

“Fair point.”

Aima’s eyes widened and her head twitched to the side. The hairs on Arche’s neck stood up with sudden warning. He closed his eyes and cast out his Psychic Sight. Behind him, quickly fading from his awareness, was an elf.

“Fuck.”

“He is escaping,” Aima said.

“And neither of us could catch him before he makes it back to Myriatos. Even with my powers, I’m not likely to match an elf for speed over distance.”

She bared her teeth.

“They will hunt me.”

“They already are. Figoritolos of Dawnwood has a mission to slay you. He’s already brought trouble to Myriatos on that account. I’d wager it was him that spied on us there.”

“Are you not worried he will use this to turn your people against you?”

He shrugged.

“Not really. Dude’s an asshole. He’ll get his in good time.”

Aima narrowed her eyes.

“My mere existence was enough for them to hunt me in my time. What makes you think they’ve changed?”

“They haven’t. But I’m not worried about it. As long as you’re under my protection, you won’t have to worry about it either. What you will need to worry about is any upstart Dawnwood elves trying to hunt you down. I’d ask you not kill any, as they seem to be real particular about that, but I’m not gonna fault you for defending yourself.”

He handed over the second goblet and quietly healed the wound in his arm. She took it from him and drank deeply.

“The more I learn about you, the less I know,” she said after licking her lips clean.

“That’s common feedback. Makes life interesting, don’t you think? Listen, I’ll meet you back here in five days. If you’ve got a new home by then, you can take me there.”

“And if you don’t arrive?”

“Then it’s likely something’s happened to me and I would appreciate some leniency on our deal.”

“Would you offer me the same leniency if my bloodlust drove me to hunt one of your precious people?”

The levity fell from Arche’s face.

“I’ve made promises on your behalf. That is a matter out of my hands. If you hunt a person for anything other than self-defense, if you orchestrate some plan to be able to drink one of our people, I will have to kill you. I really don’t want it to come to that.”

“Then let us not pretend we are something that we are not,” Aima sneered. “We are not allies. We are not friends. You have chained me to you as an experiment to make you feel better.”

Arche stood.

“If that’s how you want to feel about it, fine. Embrace the monster they think you are. One day, I won’t be the only goddamned person who can see that some monsters might be people too.”

He turned his back to her and walked off in the general direction of Myriatos.

“Five days, godling. Don’t be late.”