Fight For The Throne-Title page

The Dream

Layeline was having a dream, a nightmare. Now she was hovering over them, watching as in a dream. She was not herself, just an onlooker, watching her own motions. Maybe it was caused by the poisoned water, but she didn’t know anymore.

In the morning, Layeline drew the water before Lajhorn awoke, and went to the dungeons. Shara and Lornash were conversing silently in their minds, but then Shara began to speak out loud. She was getting a headache from the strain of concentrating.

“How well do you know elves?”

“Not very well.”

“Well, do you know…?”

“No! I don’t know a thing about them except that they like death.”

“I meant…I’ve heard of half-human elves, what does that mean?”

“They have one parent from one race, and one parent from the elvish race. If the father was a human, they’re called elf-humans, if the father was an elf, they’re called human-elves. The race of the mother…”

“Comes last.” Layeline said, lounging languidly against the wall.

“How did you sneak up on us like that?” Shara asked.

“Because obviously you don’t know even that about elves.”

“Well, I’m not an elf!”

“Really? I never thought I was until I was told…” Layeline lost focus as a strange mist drifted over her eyes. A memory returned. By then, she had begun to realize exactly what these were…visions of reality, things that had happened, ended, past. They were about a boy who lived a long time ago.

A fog drifted over his eyes as he went to his father. He was embarrassed. He had never told his father he had developed points on his ears and his hearing was enhanced. Now he was scared his father would do something stupid like lop his ears off. He had gotten used to the feel, but kept his hair over his ears. His father had noticed the points and asked to see his son.

“Father.”

The man turned in his throne. “Yes son?”

“I have come.”

“Do not worry. I have failed to tell you that your mother was an elf. You are half-elf. The race of the father comes first, you are a human-elf.”

“What was my mother’s name?”

“Garma-lona. She was a fine lass.”

“How did she die?”

“She blessed you when you were born. The blessing drained so much of her strength that she died.”

At an earlier time, when he had first heard it, the son believed him, but as the years went by, and he experimented with magic, he began to see the flaw in that argument. “Focus!” he told himself. His father had begun to say something else.

“I can change you by magic so you still resemble a human.”

The boy knew it was hopeless to argue, so he gave in.

That night, he felt the curved tips of his ears and knew his freedom was fading fast. Deep in his belly something churned and twisted. He pulled his knees up to his chest and groaned. “The pain, the pain, it is so intense!”

“Layeline, snap out of it!” Lornash shouted. She jerked.

“Sorry, I was caught up in a memory.”