2. A Cautionary Tale
A Cautionary Tale
Darcassan hefted the enchanted bag over his head and allowed the strap to cross his body before adjusting it.
The bag itself felt light and if anyone–like his sister–looked inside of it, she would find nothing.
It would appear empty just like it had when she’d nearly caught him smuggling the Luminerian out of Xrdatha’s Armory.
But the sword was in there in its burned case and he felt the psychic weight of it, if not the physical one.
The itch to take it out and hold it, to swing it and feel the hilt against his palm, and to send his magical senses through it was almost overwhelming.
But he didn’t dare do any of this while he was in the Eryas Palace, because his privacy was constantly being violated.
For though his father had not checked on him once since they had returned from Illithor–thankfully, he told himself–his sister had come several times a day just to “check in” or “to see if you need anything” or “just for company”.
He knew that she felt guilty about suspecting him back in the Armory of taking something he shouldn’t.
The fact that she had been right hadn’t caused him to drop his frosty demeanor with her during her impromptu visits.
After all, she saw him as a thief while the truth was that he was simply taking back what was theirs all along.
If anything, the dwarves were the thieves!
Helgrom should have let them look at everything in the Armory, and if any of it was Aravae, let them repatriate it.
But no, he’d acted like some kind of real king doling out treasure to peasants. It was insulting in the extreme!
But that was neither here nor there now. He had the Luminerian.
Yet his sister wasn’t the only one to check on him and delay his understanding of the sword.
His uncle had even visited once or twice despite his focus clearly being on Declan, the Night Prince.
Everytime he thought of Declan, Darcassan found himself adding on that moniker.
His title. Because it reminded him just who this seeming human really was and the danger that he posed.
The Night Prince is in the Eryas Palace. The Night Prince who can destroy massive Leviathan nests with a single blow. The Night Prince whose identity Uncle is hiding from nearly everyone after making a deal with the Night King to save him. As if the Night King needed an excuse to save his own son…
But then maybe Xelroth Vex was like Vesslan Fairlynn and maybe Declan really had needed a helping hand. But Darcassan shook himself. The truth was that they knew nothing of Declan and Xelroth’s relationship and they shouldn’t assume it was anything less than close and devoted.
It made him taking a sword that was Aravae property from a dead dwarven city seem minor in comparison to his uncle’s behavior in keeping all of that secret. In fact, it made taking the Luminerian appear prophetic, because they might need it depending on what Declan’s presence here meant.
Still he didn’t want to be caught with the Luminerian.
Not yet. Not until he had mastered its powers, which would prove he was its worthy wielder.
If his uncle or sister caught him with it before then, they’d insist on returning it to Helgrom.
If his father did, he would take it for his own.
No, Darcassan had to tame the Luminerian and only then could he reveal he had brought it home.
But to do that, he needed privacy and time.
Yet he’d been too exhausted to leave his bed since their return to Earth from Illithor.
He’d felt scrapped clean of magic and had slept fourteen hours a day.
He was still not completely himself, but he was too eager to start his investigation of the sword to delay any longer.
He just needed to find a secluded spot to study and he thought he knew of the perfect place.
It was a pretty glade just outside of the dome.
His absence today would likely go unnoticed as his most frequent visitor–Elasha–was not there and he’d seen his uncle leaving the palace with Declan and others, too.
Elasha had actually tried to lure him out that morning with the outlandish suggestion that he accompany her to the Separatist settlement of Hope.
“They are having a party with delicious food cooked over coals or wood and music!” Elasha had practically glowed with excitement as she had flitted around the room. “I don’t know if you’ve heard human music, but it really is quite wonderful–”
“I’m sure it is as loud and coarse as they are.”
“That’s not true! Why must you always jump to the conclusion that something is bad if it is human?” Elasha’s hands fisted and she stopped her excited movements.
“Because it usually is?” He shrugged.
“Darcassan, Uncle is right that we have been prejudging others too harshly. Not giving them a chance. But other cultures and species have nice things. Things that we can appreciate. And rock and roll is one of those things!”
“Rock and roll?” His eyebrows drew together. “That’s what their music is called and you’re telling me it is not coarse and loud?”
“It’s a style of music and it has nothing to do with rocks or rolling them!” But then she lowered her head as she acceded, “But it is loud. Yet isn’t that just how music is generally? You can really dance to it, too! It has a brilliant beat.”
“Well, even if it is something worth hearing, it doesn’t matter. Father will never allow you to go to this Separatist party,” Darcassan muttered as he settled himself heavily on his desk chair.
He had the magic bag slung over the back of the chair and the urge to reach inside and stroke the Luminerian’s case almost overwhelmed him again despite his sister’s company.
But he held himself still. His sister was smarter than people gave her credit for.
Any stray movement towards the supposedly empty bag might ignite her suspicions about him again.
“I’m not going to ask him for permission!” She scoffed.
“You and our uncle are being insanely foolish by thinking you can keep all these secrets,” he shook his head. “You know that Father finds out everything in the end.”
“Maybe. But it’s not like he’ll ask where I’m going today.” That last statement was said with a slight amount of bitterness and sadness, but she shrugged it off and was smiling again. “So what’s the worst he can do? Forbid me from going to a party I’ve already been to? Confine me to my room?”
“Send you back to the Lieran Plane?” He suggested.
Her mouth fell open as if she hadn’t considered that.
Funny, when they’d first come here, she’d wanted to return badly, seeing nothing good about this place.
But now she seemed to actually want to stay.
He did, because this was the only place he was certain to get access to the Under Dark, but also because it was where the center of power had moved.
But Elasha had never cared about such things. Had she really become fond of Earth?
Finally, she seemed to snap herself out of it and said, “He–he won’t go that far! Not for going to a party!”
“I suppose it depends on how irritated he is by the Separatists at the time and, therefore, how much of a betrayal he views your actions,” Darcassan shrugged.
“B-betrayal?! Darcassan, you go too far! Not even Father views them as our enemies–”
“No, he views them as annoyances and sometimes annoyances can cause outsized insults, but don’t worry, dear sister, I won’t tell him about your Separatist sympathies,” he answered.
She opened her mouth, likely to snap back that she wasn’t a sympathizer, but then she surprised him by saying with soberness, “I am sympathetic to them. This is their world and they’ve lost everything.
Change is hard. And asking someone to be grateful when you’re also taking what they feel is all they have left–”
“Their lives are all that they have left,” he corrected her.
“They’re homes are gone. Their jobs are gone.
Their money is worthless. Their whole way of defending themselves is insufficient.
They live simply because we let them live.
So, in a way, their lives are ours, too, but I’m willing to say that they own them. But anything else?”
Her forehead furrowed. “Do you really believe that’s all they are entitled to? Their own world and you don’t think anything is sacrosanct?”
“That and citizenship in the Empire. Isn’t that enough?” Another shrug.
“Would you consider that enough?” her voice was soft.
“Compared to certain death at the coils of the Leviathan? Yes, yes, I would. Their pride is getting in their way. They were on top here. I understand that. They believed themselves masters of all they surveyed. They found out that they are not,” he said philosophically.
“Some of them will never be able to accept that, but people like Rohannan are just making it more difficult for those that can. He’s delaying the inevitable.
They need to assimilate and forget this idea of independence.
They should be familiar with the concept since they came here and destroyed the original inhabitants’ homes.
Why is this any different? Other than this time, it’s them being pushed aside. ”
“You say this so easily when it's not you. When you think it will never be you,” she murmured sadly.
But she was wrong about that. Why did she think he went to Illithor in the first place?
It wasn’t just about the Leviathan–though they posed the most immediate threat–but there were many others to the Aravae.
But she didn’t see that. No one seemed to see their potential fall from grace.
He didn’t think himself above humanity. He thought of them as a cautionary tale for the Aravae.
Especially after what he had seen Declan, the Night Prince, do.