10. Too Many Questions
Too Many Questions
F inley stared at the stairs up to the second floor of the Dawn where Aquilan had taken Declan ten minutes earlier. Or had it been fifteen or twenty? Or maybe just five minutes? It was hard to tell, because it felt like an eternity . Finley’s right leg rose up and down underneath the gaming table at a rapidly accelerating pace.
“So are you the orc follower of the boy upstairs?” Rhalyf asked Snaglak.
The Sun Elf was sitting opposite Finley and kitty-corner to Snaglak who was looking hopefully at Michael’s back. Michael was at the bar getting more drinks for the table. He was chatting easily with Lily, but Finley saw his eyes flicker to the stairs every so often. He was worried about Declan, too. Finley’s leg shook faster.
“Declan strong,” Snaglak answered simply.
“Yes, yes, he must be if he took down five of your compatriots,” Rhalyf pointed out. “The General told the king and I that you would confirm that this actually happened. A human taking out five orcs. By himself. And not dying. Immediately.”
Finley tensed at every word. So Michael had told the Sun King about that? Michael was proud of Declan’s abilities so why wouldn’t he? But unease slithered through Finley as this Sun Elf clearly found this believable yet unbelievable at the same time. It might cause him to ask more questions. Questions that Declan didn’t want answered.
“Declan leader,” Snaglak responded.
Rhalyf’s gray eyes narrowed. “And those orcs weren’t sick or infirm or something? They were big and strong like you seem to be, correct?”
Snaglak’s black eyes left his almost empty beer mug and looked at Rhalyf, perhaps hearing for the first time the incredulity in the Sun Elf’s tone mixed with something else. Something perhaps rude. It was never wise to be rude to an orc.
Instead of answering him, Snaglak remarked, “You smell funny.”
Rhalyf blinked. “I smell… what ?”
“Funny.” Snaglak’s black eyes narrowed at the Sun Elf.
“And by funny , I suppose you mean good ?” Rhalyf fluttered an elegant hand by his handsome face.
“If he meant good, he would have said good,” Finley remarked without taking his eyes from the stairs.
Yet he still caught sight of the obviously vain Sun Elf–was there really any other kind? Though this one was especially in love with himself--staring at him. Rhalyf smiled and let out a droll laugh and leaned back in his chair. He appeared to be more laying on it than sitting.
“Ah, well, I should be grateful, I suppose. If I smelled good to him then he might eat me. You know that they eat other species, don’t you? I’m sure he’s snacked on a human or two in his time,” Rhalyf told him. “Yet here he sits! Acting as if he wouldn’t want to roast us over that fire or even eat us raw.”
“Wouldn’t eat funny smelling elf,” Snaglak muttered into his now empty beer mug. More hopeful staring at Michael’s back.
“You should be honored to eat me.” Rhalyf’s eyes were slitted. “I will have you know that I am most delectable and–”
“Stringy,” Snaglak contradicted. “You look stringy.”
Rhalyf actually sat up a little instead of his consistent sprawl. “I am not stringy. I am quite luscious actually.”
Snaglak glanced over at the lean, lithe Sun Elf. “Not enough meat.”
Rhalyf really was glaring now. “I would be the best meal you’ve ever had!”
“Are you really arguing about what you would taste like to him?” Finley asked, dragging his gaze away from the stairs. “I mean, you don’t really want him to eat you and, if he did, you wouldn’t be alive for him to admit you’re right and he’s wrong anyways.”
There was silence at the table again.
“If he ate my leg I’d still be alive to know about it,” Rhalyf grumped.
“Don’t want smelly, stringy leg,” Snaglak muttered back.
“Both of you: enough .” Finley gritted his teeth.
Again, he looked at the stairs. No Aquilan. No Declan. What was happening up there? Was Declan all right? He shouldn’t have let the Sun King shoo him out of the room. But really, could he have stayed?
It was an order from the king to leave. And Aquilan was actually his king. That was so strange to think of having been a member of a functioning democracy before all of this. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to vote in his first presidential election and now… now he never would. He shook himself. Why was he thinking of voting at a time like this?
Because Declan is ill! Really ill! And I can’t be by his side!
But every time he had attempted to go back up the stairs to maybe press his ear against the door or peek inside, either Michael or Rhalyf headed him off. But he had to know what was happening! Maybe this ridiculously arrogant, self-satisfied Rhalyf knew. Perhaps he could get something out of him, some knowledge at least about what healing magic Aquilan might use. That would be useful on the admissions test!
Finley focused on Rhalyf. “What is the king doing with Declan?”
Rhalyf stopped glaring at the orc and turned to him with a curious, cat-like glance. “Healing him, of course. What else would the king be doing to your friend? Should he be doing something else?”
“I know that! What I meant was: what healing magic do you think he’ll use?”
Rhalyf’s eyes narrowed. “Well, that depends on what’s wrong with Declan. Do you know what’s wrong with Declan?”
Finley swallowed the acidic saliva that was building up in his mouth. If only he had realized that Declan was outside sooner then he and Snaglak could have rescued him before the Sun King had arrived! But no, he had been so worked up about his game that he hadn’t been paying attention and now… now…
I should be glad that King Aquilan is helping Declan. This Sun sensitivity is no joke. To have it take him down like that twice…
But Finley knew how desperate his best friend was to keep these things private. Anything unusual or different, Declan wanted to hide from everyone, especially the Sun Elves, and now he was being examined by the Sun King himself! It was literally the worst luck ever.
Or maybe the best. For if Declan truly is ill–and he is–then King Aquilan surely will be able to cure him! He’s the greatest Mage in all of the Aravae Empire!
And then Declan would see that there was no need to be afraid of the Sun Elves knowing of his differences. He might even be willing to tell others about his abilities and then humanity would be recognized as having magic, too, and… He stopped that train of thought. It was so selfish. Utterly and completely selfish. That wasn’t what Declan wanted. It was what Finley wanted and it was for himself , not his best friend. Declan never desired to be singled out even though he always had been.
“You mentioned to the king that your friend has had this reaction to the Sun before. Just this afternoon, yes?” the Sun Elf asked.
Rhalyf was sprawled out again, looking so languid that he might just slip off the chair and onto the floor into a full coma. There was also quite a bit of his bare muscled chest showing. He’d removed his armored breastplate and had on only a white wrap shirt stitched with gold. There was a sort of fleshy sensuality to him. Finley was always amazed at how sexual the Sun Elves were. More like what he imagined the ancient Greeks and Romans were like than Tolkien’s elves. If Rhalyf wasn’t careful, his shirt would just slide off him altogether.
“I did,” Finley answered carefully.
Rhalyf’s gray eyes were slitted, regarding Finley very carefully. To some people, his questions might have seemed solicitous or perhaps a varied form of small talk to pass the time, but Finley’s back was up. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his own concern for Declan’s secrets potentially getting out or if there was something suspicious in the almost careless way Rhalyf asked his questions as if he didn’t care about the answers at all. Or he really did .
Declan is alone with the king. He might be suspicious, because he’s worried that Aquilan could be in danger from him. Although, what could a human do against a Sun Elf, let alone the Sun King?
“Has he ever had this happen before today?” Rhalyf played with a rather beautiful gold and ruby Sun amulet. His long, elegant fingers rubbed over the precious gems with care.
Immediately, Finley’s thoughts raced to that time at the lake. But he wasn’t going to explain that to this man. Why should he?
“He’s fair skinned. He’s always been Sun sensitive. It’s normal!” Finley answered and bit his inner cheek. Did he have to say that last line? Didn’t that make it seem like he didn’t think it was normal?
“He is rather pale. Pale as moonlight,” Rhalyf said the last softly, poetically, and Finley wondered if the Sun Elf had fallen for his best friend’s looks as so many did. But then Rhalyf’s too intelligent gray eyes were fixed upon him again. “But, then again, so are you . Do you often collapse in the Sun?”
He wasn’t wrong. Finley was very pale. He always burned when he sat out too long. He didn’t even freckle, just turned red as a tomato and then peeled. He compared his white flesh against Rhalyf’s deep gold coloring. He looked like day old milk while the Sun Elf was a glorious crispy toast color.
“What are you trying to say?” Finley asked.
“Just that your friend’s Sun sensitivity can’t be normal because of his fairness if you don’t suffer the same fate,” Rhalyf pointed out. “Does he usually avoid the Sun? Was there some reason he couldn’t today?”
Finley blinked with every single word as suspicion flooded his mind. “He works nights, but–”
“Oh, of course, of course, that would explain things. And he had to work days for the first time in a while?” Rhalyf asked casually.
Was it too casual? Come to think of it, King Aquilan had to shoo Rhalyf out of the room, too. It was as if Rhalyf hadn’t wanted to leave Aquilan alone with Declan. He’d consistently offered to take over Declan’s care himself. But Aquilan had insisted on doing it without Rhalyf’s help. There had been a moment when Rhalyf and Finley had been standing outside in the hallway with the door to the bedroom shut in their faces where they’d given each other a rather similar look of displeasure.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Finley asked.
A shrug. “Oh, nothing, just trying to figure out when this problem began for your friend. I’m sure that you must be thinking about it yourself. Trying to figure it all out.”
“I’m sure the Sun King will fix whatever–whatever issue-if there even is an issue–with Declan,” Finley insisted stiffly.
“Yes, yes, he might very well do that.” Rhalyf flashed him a toothy smile. “I wonder if that will be the best thing.”
“Wha–”
“Declan isn’t from around here, is he? Not originally, right? When did he arrive?” Rhalyf asked.
Finley’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern!”
Rhalyf’s toothy smile grew. “Ah, so I’m right! He’s not from around here. Probably arrived when he was still a child. But who are his parents? Where are they?”
“They’re dead ,” Finley said, his voice clipped and cold. “The Leviathan killed his mother and took his father. So… yeah, just like they killed mine and so many others.”
Rhalyf blinked. “Oh, I see. That’s… unexpected.”
Finley frowned. “Why would it be–”
But Michael was setting down the drinks in front of everyone at that moment and cut off their dueling.
“Chelios for you,” Michael said as he placed a goblet of cold, white wine in front of Rhalyf who eagerly reached for it. “And here’s a pitcher of beer for you and me, Snaglak.”
Snaglak–whose face had been suffused with happiness–suddenly turned dour when he realized that they would be sharing . “Maybe we need two pitchers, Michael?”
Michael was busy pouring a beer into his glass. “Don’t worry, Snaglak, I won’t let you go thirsty. Here, finish off the rest.” He pushed the mostly full pitcher to the orc who eagerly filled his glass to the brim. “Are you sure that you don’t want anything, Finley?”
Finley shook his head. The thought of eating or drinking anything when Declan was upstairs had his stomach clenching.
“So, dear General, we were talking about Declan. Your orc-defeating son. It’s my understanding that he wasn’t born here,” Rhalyf offered.
“No, no, he was adopted from a place called Ukraine. Across the Atlantic Ocean,” Michael answered.
“Oh, so his parents here weren’t his birth parents? Was he a baby when he was adopted?” Rhalyf asked, nodding to the answers as if they confirmed things he already knew.
Finley very much wanted to stop Michael from answering this question though he wasn’t quite sure why. These things were well known about Declan. And they didn’t reveal anything about him that shouldn’t be known. Not really.
“No, he was about ten, I think. Terrible story. Lost his parents in a car crash. Has no memory whatsoever of his early life,” Michael answered.
Rhalyf’s expression went smooth and unreadable for a moment. “How terrible indeed! And then to lose his adopted parents in the war after that. What bad luck!”
Michael nodded. “He’s been through a lot.” His eyes lifted to the stairs again. “I hope that he’s not in for another hard time of it.”
“Indeed.” Rhalyf took a deep swallow of wine. “That would be unfortunate, especially after surviving so much.” His eyes were on Finley once more. “Surviving the battle here. You did, too, didn’t you, Finley?”
“You don’t have to talk about that, Finley,” Michael interceded swiftly. His expression was stony as he regarded Rhalyf. “As I’m sure you understand.”
Rhalyf smiled. “Oh, yes, of course, I wasn’t–wasn’t going to ask about it. I understand your position on that.”
Position? What position?
The thing was that Michael never did ask him, Declan or Gemma about what happened during the war. He had in the beginning but when it was clear that talking about it was too hard, he’d backed off. And now it was almost verboten.
“My understanding is that you are going to apply to Taranth, Finley,” Rhalyf changed the subject. “Are those your study materials?”
He was gesturing towards the journals that had Finley’s meticulous notes for his games, but before he could respond, the notebook full of his material on Xelroth Vex was suddenly levitating up from the table and shooting into the Sun Elf’s hand. It was done so easily, so beautifully, so without thought to how amazing it truly was that Finley was stunned into immovability. Finley only came to himself when he saw Rhalyf opening the cover.
“Hey, wait! That’s not study material! It’s–it’s private!” Finley cried and tried to snatch the journal back, but Rhalyf easily kept it out of his reach.
“No, this most certainly isn’t material on the test for Taranth. In fact, if they realize your interest in the Night King, I wonder what they will do,” Rhalyf chuckled as he turned the pages, his eyes flowing over the words.
“It’s for my game,” Finley said with a scowl as he extended his right hand and gestured for Rhalyf to return the journal. He did not. “I’m using the Night King as the Big Bad.” Realizing that this might not mean anything to Rhalyf, he expanded, “The real enemy who is only revealed at the end of the game.”
“Well, you certainly did pick the biggest of the bad, I’ll give you that!” Rhalyf’s expression, which had been amused, suddenly changed. “This is surprisingly accurate.”
“Finley smart. Read big old books,” Snaglak defended him, which had Finley smiling at the orc.
“I told you that Finley is teaching me Katyr. He has his own library card to the Athenaeum,” Michael said proudly. “He’s read through dozens of history books about the Kindreth.”
Rhalyf continued to turn the pages and read his notes. Finley gritted his teeth.
“Can I have that back please?” Finley asked.
“I’m surprised that the Athenaeum has dozens of books on the Kindreth. The Sun Elves like to pretend they don’t exist,” Rhalyf remarked.
“Well, there’s not as much lore as I would like, but I’m finding as much as there is out there,” Finley couldn’t help the note of pride in his voice. But then he shook himself. “Not that it matters to you! Now please–”
“What’s this?” Rhalyf had turned to the page with one of his doodles of Illithor, the city he’d seen through the rift. The Sun Elf went rather rigid. His head shot towards Finley. His voice was sharp as he asked, “Did you copy this out of one of those books?”
He’d turned the journal towards Finley to show the illustration. It was just a pen and ink sketch of some of the towers he’d caught sight of and certain arching bridges. Michael took the journal out of Rhalfy’s hands. Rhalyf’s lips opened. Michael gave him a look. It was one of the looks he could give that had everyone from presidents to enemy generals quailing. It had the same effect on Rhalyf who slumped back into his chair.
“This is yours, I believe, Finley.” Michael handed the journal to Finley.
“Thank you.” Finley smiled at Michael and glared at Rhalyf who appeared unrepentant.
Finley tucked the journal securely into the inner pocket of his robes.
“Did you copy that illustration out of one of those books? The illustration of the city, I mean,” Rhalyf repeated.
“No, that I drew from memory,” Finley said curtly as he sat back down in his chair.
Rhalyf’s interest, which had been so focused on Declan–despite his claims to be making small talk–now was fully focused on Finley and Finley didn’t know how he felt about it. The Sun Elf was no longer languid. He was intense . Like a live wire though he didn’t appear to blink or even breathe.
“Do you know what that is?” Rhalyf asked softly.
Finley fussed with his other journals that had been thrown out of alignment when Rhalyf had levitated the Vex one away. “I do. It’s Illithor.”
Rhalyf’s gray eyes glowed silver. His lips parted and he let out a soft breath. “You know this–”
“Because I did find sketches of it in the history books. I compared the two and confirmed that I saw the Forsaken Tower and the Sanguine Pillar–”
“Yes, yes, that is what those are. But are you certain that you saw them and you didn’t just conflate them later with what you looked at in books?” Rhalyf asked intently.
Michael lifted an eyebrow. “You’re the first person to actually take Finley seriously about this, Lord Neres. Finley went to the Glass Scholar and was pooh-poohed.”
“That’s because he’s a fool!” Rhalyf said with almost a sharp snap of his teeth. Then seeing the increase of the lift of Michael’s eyebrow, he added, “As I said earlier, the Sun Elves seem to avoid knowing anything about the Kindreth so… I’m not surprised he refused to see what was right in front of his face.” His gaze, rapacious and intense, so intense that it seemed to spear into Finley was back upon the young man. “Where was this rift exactly where you saw Illithor?”
Finley blinked and shifted. He’d wanted someone in authority to take him seriously about seeing Illithor and Rhalyf was definitely in authority as the Sun King’s best friend. But suddenly, he wasn’t so sure if that was wise.
Don’t be silly. He might know more about Illithor and the Kindreth. Finally, someone who might have the same interests as me! But he’s so… so… I don’t know.
“It was where Declan used to live.” He pointed in the general direction of their old homes.
“Take me there.” Rhalyf half rose from his seat as if he meant for Finley to do so now.
“Why? It’s not like the rift is still there. It was destroyed long ago,” Finley pointed out.
Rhalyf suddenly sagged in his seat as if he was a balloon that had been punctured. “Yes, yes, of course, they sealed all the rifts in Tyrael. So it’s… gone .”
His utter dejection actually conjured some sympathy in Finley. The city was beautiful. And also terrifying. But alluring all the same.
“Do you know much about Illithor?” Finley asked, determined to get some answers from the Sun Elf for once in this conversation.
But before Rhalyf could answer, a booming dwarvish voice called from the doorway, “Well, well, well, I hear that I have some royal visitors!”
Helgrom Greatfall had returned to the Dawn.