Heir to the Empire

41. The Widow Maker - Erdudvyl

"I think I shall name you Aethelflaed." Erdudvyl smiled as she patted her relatively newly purchased white horse on the nose.

The sun had gradually disappeared below the horizon, encouraging Erdudvyl to dismount and set up camp in the middle of a dense wood, a day's ride out from Ravenscourt.

She had been fortunate to come across a farmer who was willing to sell one of his horses to her. She had plenty to choose from, but this horse's beautiful snow-like coat instantly caught her attention. Despite the haggling she had attempted, the farmer was reluctant to sell the horse cheap, but the moment she sat on Aethelflaed to ride towards Ravenscourt, all thoughts of the lost coin were instantly gone.

Aethelflaed was a working horse, but Erdudvyl had no option to find a riding horse at such short notice. Despite being a working horse, he still managed to reduce the travelling time by more than half. As the Emperor prepared his forces, there was nothing Erdudvyl wanted more than to raise the alarm to Ethelston and Ravenscourt.

Sitting down by a fire, Erdudvyl allowed her newly named horse to graze, permitting herself to bite into a succulent apple she had acquired from a nearby tree. Her first bite was elegant and more of a nibble, causing her to shake her head at the instinctive need to remain sophisticated. Even when no one would likely be around for miles, the years of training caused her to always perform like an Elven lady. Prim, proper and far superior to any other living being. Yet here she was, under the stars, sitting on the ground staining one of her expensive silky turquoise dresses, worried about her human friends and their settlement which she aimed to reach quickly.

As she glanced towards Aethelflaed, Erdudvyl took another bite, this time with a little more vigour. It made her chuckle at her feeble attempts to rebel against her natural protocol.

Reaching into a small pouch, Erdudvyl pulled out a perfectly spherical orb, no bigger than the palm of her hand. Despite the sun being well and truly hidden beneath the horizon, the orb glowed unconventional. As she looked at the orb, she sighed, knowing that putting off using this tool was no longer an option.

Placing her hand out in front of her, Erdudvyl closed her eyes and allowed the darkness around her to gradually be absorbed by light. As a strange clouded figure made its way towards her, she tried to smile. Her face felt uncomfortable and weird; it had been so long since she needed to fake a smile.

"Father," she responded as the figure started to take shape.

"Lady Ar Moal, it has been some time." Vaalyun Ar Moal commented with a hint of disdain in his voice.

Erdudvyl was determined not to rise to the bait. To express frustration or anger at this time would all but solidify Vaalyun's choice to have her exiled from Elven society.

"I have been somewhat busy, father." she lied, knowing she had plenty of time to contact him within Lionmane.

Vaalyun's silver flowing hair swirled in the breeze created by the magical orb; his pale white skin couldn't hide his displeasure at his daughter's answer; however, he wasn't here to argue. "I have spoken with the other elders. It has taken a considerable amount of persuasion, but they are willing to forgive your hastiness and transgressions and allow you back into the Elven community."

A smile swept onto Erdudvyl's face; a deep joy rose inside of her. No Elf had ever returned from exile, and to be the first would have considerable implications to her standing within the Deayitora Dominion. Then her heart sank, her smile disappeared, the realisation gripped her. Only three elves wielded the power of the elements, including herself, which automatically made her special. Without needing to go through the list of exiles, she was almost certain to be the only one to be a Sorceress.