Halfblood

Chapter 21

"So what do you want to know first?"

Blinking in the light of the fire, I can't help but scrutinize Mardil's face as we sit and talk.

He won't look anyone in the eyes, and his frown could turn day to night. Combining that with the constant shifting on the log he's sitting on gives me a pretty solid idea of how our 'honored guest' is feeling at the moment.

Not that I really care. To be fair, he did conspire to hijack our plans, and that conspiracy may or may not have included the deaths of one or more of the party. He deserves all the discomfort he is currently feeling.

And we also deserve answers, which is most likely why the rest of the group is just staring at me waiting for me to say something.

"I didn't know I was the elected spokesperson, but okay then." Ignoring the chuckles of the group, I glare at Mardil. "What I want to know is what part we (being the group present that is not you) had in your plan."

He sighs. "I knew you would ask that but at the same time I was hoping you didn't ask" He hesitates for a moment, likely to gather his thoughts. "The throne."

When he stops again, I decide to press him for more information. "Explain."

He sighs, but starts talking again. "Glendil has had all the magical items at different times, and in recent years has had all of them together, but he has never been able to complete the ceremony and restore Dawn because he has never been able to locate the throne.

This has been his sole focus ever since I became of age, and in the past few years, it has even driven him to the point of madness, searching the forests and plains for weeks on end. He often returns pushed past the point of exhaustion, only to head out again as soon as he possibly can.

I'm sure you can see how this would be concerning to me." I catch myself nodding as he continued. "So I came up with a plan to get him to cease his futile questing." He leans back for a moment and I let him before prodding him to continue. After all, he was doing this all to help his father. Maybe he deserved our kindness after all.

"What was this plan?"

"The plan revolved around another questing group coming into our lands seeking the Sunblade, moonstaff, or the crown. If, or rather when this happened I was to infiltrate the group and gain their trust. Then I was to stick with them until they located the throne, keeping my father updated on our location. Finally, when the throne had been located, I would contact Glendil, who would come in, take the items needed for the crowning--by force if necessary-- and complete the ceremony. If everything went smoothly, the plan was supposed to end up with me on the throne and everyone in the group getting their greatest desire fulfilled."

I nod. It all makes sense so far. Except for one thing, that is. "When you were talking with your father before, you mentioned no one getting killed in this stage of the plan. So was that in any way shape or form part of the plan at all?"

He shakes his head and attempts to look away. But unfortunately for the elf, his simple act of silence spoke volumes to the affirmative.

"Even though I know that It is technically impossible for you to lie at this time,"-- the moonstaff chained to his hands was making sure of that fact-- "You still did a very good job of trying to. So," I tug a bit on the chains with my 'powers' and he yelps. "I'll ask you once and once only. Who was it in the plan to kill?"

I could see the wheels of his mind spinning, searching for a solution. He leaned forward and backwards, shuffling his feet and swaying side to side in an attempt not to speak, but to no avail. He looked around the circle gathered to hear him speak, and although he kept his eyes averted from mine, I didn't need to see them to tell he was afraid.

But eventually he could keep silent no longer.

"Rosalyn."

Pythonia leaned forward at this name. "Whom?"

One could see the determination on his face as he forced himself to look her in the eyes. "Rosalyn. The other halfblood eligible to rule dawn."

Spectrum casually raised his head and opened one sleepy eye. "But isn't Rosalyn--"

"Her daughter." Mardil nods at Pythonia.

At the same time, Pythonia turned to the dragon. "My daughter."