Treasures of Ília - Dragonmage stories

5. The secrets of the kingdom

Queen Ilana, the Lady of the Seers' Hill, Divinedge and God's Cross, was satisfied. She twirled the long-bladed, iridescent green dagger in her hand. This was what this pathetic man was so proud of, she thought contemptuously, and slipped his weapon back into its sheath. Any of her soldiers had more fancy equipment! She handed the dagger with the belt to the servants, who bowed and carried it into the treasury.

"How did all this happen? 'Tell me, Aron!" said the Queen, leaning back with the graceful elegance of her people on the ornate cushions of her shining throne, and motioning for the man to start speaking.

The commander of the guard stroked the scar on his forehead for a moment.

"We caught up with them at the stone idol, Your Majesty. We called to your son to return to the palace, but he, leaving the wounded man behind, galloped away. Two of the guards went after him, but unfortunately, they lost his trail. I regret that I did not follow Prince Kelin, but I thought it more important to look after Syneril. Unfortunately, his wounds grew worse during the night. And then at dawn," his mistress did not misunderstand the handsome man's cynical smile, "he fell, alas, into the water where the stream runs so deep in the gorge valley. Poor fellow! What a pity that he has met with such an unfortunate end!

At the end of his speech, he looked meaningfully at his mistress, and then at the other member of his audience, the young elf maiden. She looked questioningly at the captain of the guard, then at the queen. The royal lady rose from her throne, walked up to her daughter and patted her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Sille, that you have had to listen to this, but I cannot hide from you the difficult task of ruling. The safety of our kingdom is more important than anything else, but I won't tell you any more about that now. You will know in time what prophecy compelled me to act. A chapter is happily closed. And your brother, Kelin will return as soon as he calms down. When you've lived as long as I have, you'll realize that these are only small interludes."

"You are right, mother!" smiled the princess, and her eyes were cold and calculating, just like the queen's.

Ilana looked at her daughter with delight. How beautiful! How clever! It was worth this little inconvenience because of her. The squeeze of fulfilled and never-to-be-fulfilled prophecies had passed with that unfortunate accident. She smiled gratefully at her gorgeous bodyguard commander, then changed to a formal tone.

"But we have moreimportant things to do. Sille, my dear, I invited you too, because I would likeyou to join us today in our deliberations on the Northern Territories. You mustknow when the time comes for our conquering army to march" she explained to theprincess, and then continued in a raised voice. "I will receive the councilors now!"

Silence surrounded the small forest house. Even the cattle were quiet outside. The candle–light in the room illuminated the young woman, who was spinning wool. The child was already asleep, her long dark hair spread on her pillow, her pretty, calm face only occasionally unweiled by the dancing candlelight. The bread wrapped in a woven cloth was left over from the supper on the table, a mug stood next to it. The young woman sang softly now and then, and twirled the wool diligently between her fingers.

Five days since she found this tortured, half-dead elf man in the stream, brought him home, saved him from freezing, fed him honey and water so he would have a chance to live another day. Did she feel sorry for him? Maybe. Or maybe she just saw her own arduous fate in him. This clenched-toothed will to live that sustained her in the middle of nowhere with her child, her sheep, her garden, her vineyard, her spinned wool balls, her cheese, and all the gutting, painful struggle.

You must be out of your mind, she thought to herself, but then she took a sip of wine and adjusted the yarn. The night grew deeper, the past refused to let go. She thought of her comfortable life in the big city, which she had to leave in an instant. Since then, here in the wilderness of Augury, she had found herself in really nomadic circumstances. After the bustle of the royal capital, it was a huge step backwards, similar to what people who had survived the breakdown must have felt

She recalled the rich library at the University of Noblewhitecastle, where she designed and calculated arches and staircases, drawing the curves with a thin ink line and precisely fitting the edges. What possibilities lay before her! She thought of the drawings she had made, the designs she had been envied for. How many interesting people she knew! She could have lived carefree but only if... there is always an if.

Then something fell to the floor with a dull thud. Chaerie stopped working.

The faint noise from the corner sounded like "no" in the language of the elves, perhaps. The wounded man's eyes were open, and he was trying to get up from the berth that had been made on the bench. He has a fever, she thought, and put down the spindle.

„–No!"

The woman poured water into a jar and took it to the man on the bench.

„Would you like to drink?"

The patient's protesting hand nearly knocked the mug out of her hand. She stroked his forehead and neck. He had a fever, but it was no longer life-threatening.

„Who are you?" the patient formed the words. „Where am I?"

He grabbed the mug, drank.

„This is my house. Call me Chaerie!"

The man's dark green eyes opened wide, perhaps in horror, perhaps in shock. Then he lay still, the whiteness of his skin almost glowing. Chaerie took the mug from his fingers and sat back down to spin the yarn. Time passed, and she hummed her thoughts softly into the monotony of her work. Old books and old stories came to her mind. She gazed into the distance, beyond the circle of candlelight, into the darkness, and then she winced, her thoughts returned to the house. From a corner, from his reclining position on the bench, the elf watched her carefully.

„I washed and mended your clothes. I put them by your side. When you are better, you will leave."

Chaerie 's voice was quiet but firm.

„I will leave in the morning. In the morning."

"Good," said the woman, and went on working without a word. It was well into the small hours of the night.

He tried to see where he was, but he had nostrength. Only his fingers moved, he touched planed wood beneath his bodí. Itwas once a pine tree, standing on a hillside, now part of a forest house. Hisbed was not the dirt floor of his prison. The pine, though long since felled,was from the upper land, and the candle's light was not faerie light but livingfire. He was given fresh stream-water, and gentle words were spoken to him.Hope was beginning to awaken in him that he might be saved.