Chapter One
I was unprepared for my first sight of the city of
For two days, we’d travelled through the dense vegetation of the forest, pushing our way along a nearly invisible path. Even the light was subdued, filtered through the autumnal tatters that drifted from the canopy overhead to lie in a richly colored carpet upon the floor of the woods. I was helping my tutor Hyagrem, whose gnarled hands were wrapped around his walking stick, to climb up a small rise when the city reared before me in its aeons-old majesty.
I stared at the city in amazement, Hyagrem momentarily forgotten. All my life, even as a near-infant on my mother’s knee, I’d heard stories of the fabled beauty of Leselle. Now, at last, I was finally seeing it for myself.
“Tamsen?”
The voice brought me back to myself. A few feet away, Kaldarte smiled at me. Her warm, amber eyes were twinkling with humor. My foster mother nodded briefly then turned back to her husband, Ar’ami.
Every circumstance of my first visit to Leselle was unusual. To begin with, I was human–or, at least, apparently so. In fact, I was actually half-Elven twice over, descended from the noble house of Asphodel among my human kin and the legendary house of Ka’antira among the Elven. Kaldarte was actually a great-aunt to me, which explained why she’d adopted a human foster child to begin with. Unless one knew the relationship, I appeared to be completely human: a slightly-too-slender, slightly-too-tall daughter of the northern plains of Ansienne.
The Elves were notorious for their distrust of humans and understandably so. It was quite possible that I was the first person of human descent to see Leselle since the Elfwars had ended almost two centuries before.
The other side of the coin, however, lay in the fact that I had been summoned to Leselle. The ruling Council of Elders, who’d controlled the Elven Realm since the abdication and subsequent murder of their last king Antir, sent word to Kaldarte and Ar’ami to bring their three wards to the city immediately. That meant their twin granddaughters, Cetenne and Liliath, as well as me, the human foster child. Although Kaldarte and Ar’ami accepted the summons with equanimity, my Elven cousins and I had speculated on the true nature of the Elders’ command.
“There’s no reason for the Elders to wish to see Tamsen,” Cetenne had argued reasonably. “They probably want to submit us to the coming-of-age ritual; but there’s no need to do that for her. After all, she is human.”
“Half-human,” her sister corrected. “She is of our blood, too.”
“She looks human,” her sister retorted.
I’d remained silent while the argument continued, pondering my own significance in this turn of events. Both of my cousins were correct to some degree; as for myself, my curiosity was tempered with a slight tinge of unease.
Now, three days later, Cetenne nudged me, her usually pale face burning with excited color. “What do you think of it?”
“It’s beautiful.” Even at this moment, I felt a pang of envy for the beauty she flaunted so casually, her dark auburn hair falling around her delicate pointed ears and the face so like Kaldarte’s. She was even bound to the same element: fire. Liliath’s beauty was more ethereal, running towards the blonde loveliness and affinity for water of her Elven mother, but Cetenne had all of the Ka’antira hallmarks that I desperately wished to possess myself.
My hair was long and dark, inclined towards heavy waves, and my eyes were pale blue, almost silvery. I took after my human forebears in looks, although a slightly Elven cast of feature sharpened my face. It was the coloring I craved. The bright, vivid hues of the forest seasons that all Elves possessed: eyes of the green of spring leaves, or the dark blue of the little springs that gurgled merrily under the trees; hair of autumnal auburns and browns or the winter’s ice-white blonde or the summer’s golden cast upon the hilltops. Human beauty couldn’t hope to compete, not with its washed-out shades and mundane temperament.
Hyagrem snorted. The mage was eying the city with a sour look upon his face, which was already creased with the marks of mortality that the Elves never achieved. I glanced at him, noting that his lips were pressed tightly together.
“Something wrong?”
“Not yet,” he replied, but his eyes softened a little when they returned to me. The others began their descent down the little hill, but my tutor’s hand grasped my wrist suddenly. “You have the pendant hidden?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yes.”
“Good. Keep it that way for a time.”
* * * *
We followed Lamec down the hill into the grassy valley that bordered the outskirts of the city. He was the twins’ father and an Elder himself. His ruddy hair was the beacon I followed, still too overwhelmed for the moment to look at the city looming ever nearer. So it was understandable that I was surprised when the two Elven scouts rose from the grass. One minute the way was clear, the next minute two young men stood before us with arrows notched to their bows.
“Welcome honored travelers, to the city of
Lamec smiled, holding his left hand up in greeting. “I thank you, Revered Scout. I am returning with my family at order of the Council.”
The scout nodded, his cold, black eyes sliding back to me. “And the humans?”
It was not until that moment that I truly realized the abiding mistrust the Elves held for humankind. A world of inflection lay beneath his words, tinged with disdain and contempt, telling me clearly that here, at least, the Elfwars were neither forgiven nor forgotten. The knowledge hit me in the face, hard, and I held back a gasp at the sudden slice of it.
To his credit, Lamec’s face changed into a stern mask that bespoke his power in the city. “The Council requested their presence, and that should be enough for you, Brial Ka’breona,” he commented sternly. “It does not become you to offer such scant courtesy either to the Ka’antira or to myself, who serves with your father on the Council.”
The young Elf accepted the rebuke but his expression did not change. His hard, black eyes slid from me before he turned back to Lamec.
“I beg you to forgive me, Honored Elder. Enter then, and be welcome,” he said, his face smoothed into an apathetic mask. He bowed and walked away at his comrade’s side without another word.
I glanced at Hyagrem. He stood in dignified silence. I took my cue from him and drew myself to my full height. It would serve me best to remember that I was a daughter of Asphodel; the Elven blood that flowed through my veins spoke of the bond between my family and the folk of this city. As I lifted my chin, I met Ar’ami’s eyes. He nodded with an approving smile. Without another word, we shouldered our packs and entered the legendary city of
* * * *
Lamec took us to his home in the center of the city. As we walked through the twisting neighborhoods, the beauty of Leselle struck me again. My one, scarcely remembered trip to Geochon, the human capital of Ansienne, had instilled in me the thought that all cities were smelly, loud, and dirty. Not so in Leselle. The Elves tolerated none of those elements. We could have been in the clearing at home; the smells and sounds were no different.
Our surly reception by the Elven scouts had angered the twins. Liliath, usually so retiring, took Hyagrem’s arm and helped him along the thoroughfare with a tight, defiant expression on her face. Cetenne walked by my side, her face strangely neutral. Because I knew her so well, I detected the tight set of her jaw and took comfort from her support.
The others acted completely unconcerned. Their conversation as we went on centered on the growth of the city. The compliant trees of the grove had spread from their deep-rooted base to hold the swelling number of Elves forsaking their hereditary care of the forests. I listened to them in growing bewilderment. If more of the Elves were coming here, then what was happening to the forests?
Some years before, Ar’ami had told me the story of the founding of this beautiful city. A sage had wandered for some time in the sacred Elven forest, communing with the purity of the natural order of things there, when he had discovered a laurel tree standing alone in the center of a grove of oaks. Surprised at the discovery, since the climate was too cool to support the existence of the tree, he had approached it with wonder.
When he reached it, a sudden light shone forth. A beautiful Elfmaiden stood before him, so lovely that she astounded him. Her eyes, however, held the knowledge of the ancient gods. While he listened, she told him that she was Daphnis, a legendary priestess of the Virgin Huntress, and that the tree was a symbol of her protection of his house. She told him that in honor of that bond, she wished him to build a great city around the laurel tree. In this city, they could gather and protect all of the learning and wisdom of the Elves. The trees themselves stood as surety for that promise. He agreed, and brought his kin with him to lay the foundations for Leselle.
The Elven nation, in return, named him as their king. They said that Leselle would stand until betrayed by one of her own. Daphnis’ sanctuary remained in the laurel tree that stood, hidden, in the heart of the foundations of the city.
Lamec stopped before a twist of branches. Over the centuries, the Elves had developed a way of hiding their homes from prying, unfriendly eyes. The house was concealed within the trees, masked by the spirits of the trees themselves, called guardians. The Elves’ ability to talk to the guardians allowed them to interact with the trees themselves. The Elves protected the trees of the forest, and the trees accommodated the Elven dwellings in return. He laid his hand upon the bark and a moment later, the trunk dissolved into a door. We left the thoroughfares of Leselle, and followed him into his house.
Lamec’s wife Ardenne was a glowing, golden Elf. She embraced her daughters, her parents-in-law, and her husband with gentle affection. When introduced to Hyagrem, she greeted him respectfully. When she turned those lovely blue eyes onto me, however, I sensed a reserve behind them. She welcomed me as she would any guest, but I could not ignore the expression behind her eyes.
In very little time, she had us settled on comfortable couches and served some of the delicate light wine the Elves prefer with chilled fruits and sweetbreads. While the others talked, I sank into an introspective silence.
All was obviously not well with the Elves.
Judging from the dark looks I had received, they were still embittered. The scout who had met us outside the city had only been the tip of the iceberg, it seemed. The resentment was tangible and touched with fear. Something had infiltrated Leselle and it lurked beneath the beauty and delicacy of the city. I had been isolated with Kaldarte and Ar’ami for some years now. Evidently, I was unaware of the political turmoil that surrounded the Elven Realm.
The uneasy feeling I had entertained since Lamec had come for us grew stronger. Although Lamec had termed it as a request, it was, in fact, a summons. The matter must be urgent, judging from the swelling population of Leselle. It must also be public, gauging from our reception. Therefore, I concluded, the situation was a bit more dangerous than inferred.
What would the Elven Council want with me? I had done nothing, save stay with my foster family and study. I knew that Kaldarte and Ar’ami had informed the Council of the occurrences surrounding me. Another motive . . . a political motive . . . lay behind this summons and I decided I did not like it at all. As I thought this, my eyes narrowed and my mouth tightened.
Just like that, my political nature was formed: belligerent, assertive, repulsed by subterfuge.
I stood up, my mouth dry and tasting of bile. Everyone’s eyes jerked to me as I said, “Please forgive me. I am rather tired. I think I wish to find somewhere to rest, if it doesn’t inconvenience you, Ardenne.”
She smiled the smooth, bland smile of a hostess. “Of course, my dear. Liliath, show your guest to her room. The Council wishes to see you after sunset and I’d wager you’d like to rest before you meet them.”
* * * *
My story is unusual, a strange quirk of the times that could never have happened at any other moment of history save for the one I was born into some eighteen years earlier. I was the daughter of Prosper de Asphodel, a minor nobleman whose estate lay upon the borders of the
My early childhood was unremarkable, save for the fact that I was the only offspring from a completely happy marriage. I played around the orchards and nestled in my room with my books, secure in the love of my parents and the safety of my world.
I thought about that as I prepared for my appearance before the Elders. Would any of these Elves who looked at me askance from the safety of their gardens have taken in a terrified human child? Probably not. Probably only Kaldarte and Ar’ami, or one of their kin, would ever have considered such a thing.
The clouds exploded. Snow howled from the skies, obliterating the terrace from my sight in seconds, and screened me from the evil that was my uncle and the destruction of my home. The cherry blossoms, delicate and frothy against the black spindles of the trees, writhed in blood-red pain as the wall of punishing snow tore them away.
I shook the memory away. A noise from the doorway alerted me to someone else’s presence and I turned to see Hyagrem regarding me with compassionate eyes.
“It does no good to force that memory from you, child,” he said. “You will remember it all the days of your life.”
“I know.”
“That day made you what you are; you cannot escape that now.” He drew nearer. It may have been a trick of the light, but he was suddenly stronger-seeming, younger almost. “In the ancient Elven tongue they would call you ceratira: storm-bringer.”
“No. They would call me mage and human and despise me for both.”
“Elven magic is elemental. Human magic is learned. What you possess is a combination of both, inherited from your forebears. They cannot deny what you are as long as you accept it yourself.”
I knew his words were true. I had called the storm down upon Asphodel unknowingly, shocked into magic by grief and fury. When it became apparent to Kaldarte that she could not teach me in the manner of the Elves, Ar’ami had gone to find Hyagrem and brought him back to the forest to instruct me in the discipline of magic.
“And now I find myself here, summoned by the Elven Council to answer for it,” I noted dryly.
“That is not why you are here.” His voice was calming with just a hint of reproof.
“Then why?”
“It is your birthright, as is the pendant you wear about your neck. Several generations ago, during the great war between the Elves and man, a daughter of your house saved an Elfmaiden from the battlefield. She took her to a place of secrecy and nursed her back to health. When the Elfmaiden was strong enough to travel, this brave daughter of Asphodel got word to her brother. The Elf came, a well-beloved and noble man of his race, to fetch his sister away to safety. His name was Antir. He fell in love with Elyssia de Asphodel, and married her. They had a son, from whom your father descended. Antir gave Elyssia that pendant, and it has been in your family since.
“The Elven Council did not approve of either the gift, or the prophecy that accompanied it. They called Antir before them, and attempted to force him to rescind the gift. He refused, and the Elders exiled him from Leselle and stripped him of his rank. They only had a very few happy years together before mysterious assailants ambushed and murdered Antir in the forest near his home. Elyssia brought up her son, despite her grief, and your house was bound to the Elves ever since.”
“So that’s where the Elven part of my lineage comes in,” I said wryly. “I still don’t see why I have to hide the pendant or why they summoned me here at all.”
A smile stretched across Hyagrem’s face, tightening it so that I could see the bones beneath his wrinkled skin. “But I do not wish you to hide the pendant tonight, Tamsen,” he replied softly. “I wish you to wear it among these Elves and walk with your head high. You are the only descendant now of that line, unbroken in millennia, and by the pendant you wear you proclaim yourself as the heir to Antir. You are royal, here among the Elves, and you should not allow them to forget it.”
I turned my back to him. I had the uncomfortable feeling that I looked like a speared fish as I stammered, “But what about Kaldarte and her children? What about Lamec? I am half-human and they are full Elves. Shouldn’t they be considered the heirs over my tainted claim?” My voice was bitter at the end, tinged with the anger I’d felt at the Elves’ response to my presence in their city.
“Not by the laws of the Elves,” Hyagrem replied. “True, Kaldarte is your aunt, for lack of a better term. She had to renounce any claim to the monarchy when the Elders sanctified her as a seer. The Council tried to force Kaldarte to forego her calling, in order to replace her brother, but she refused. Lamec and his brothers have no claim to the throne.”
“It is true,” Kaldarte’s voice added quietly. I had not heard her enter the room behind me. “Your mother was also the daughter of an Elf. Solange did not know until much later that she was bastard born, and half-Elven at that. You have powerful enemies, both human and Elves, but we watched over you. It is my great sorrow that I did not see where the danger ultimately lay. Only your mother’s quick thinking when your uncle came that day enabled Ar’ami to get close enough to you to help you.”
“My uncle.” My voice was flat. Another swift glimpse of the terrible reckoning at Asphodel flashed across my mind, but I discarded it as I had before. “Then this summons from the Council means that they know everything.”
“They do,” she affirmed.
“What do they wish me to do?”
She paused.
“They want me to renounce my claim in favor of someone else, don’t they?”
“I don’t know.” The answer was immediate and unstinting.
“I don’t want them; they don’t want me. I wouldn’t even know how to begin.” I declared. “They can have the pendant if they want it.”
Kaldarte’s face looked sad for the first time since I had met her. “I’m not certain that you can renounce it, Tamsen,” she said, her voice tinged with sorrow. “You see, the Elves do not choose who bears the pendant. The pendant chooses the Elf who holds its power.”
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