14. The Forever Hunt
The Forever Hunt
T he lights in the Dawn seemed to dim. Flames flickering low and small. Except for a shaft of shimmering light that streamed down upon Sun King Aquilan Fairlynn. It came from the ceiling where no light should bloom from. Yet there it was. Motes of gold and silver floated around the Aravae king. They danced in the air currents, caressed his skin, slid down the locks of his hair, and broke into silent, shimmering sparks of light when they struck the floor.
Declan’s lips parted in wonder.
Magic.
He’d seen magic. Fireballs and lightning had streaked through the air in Tyrael before the dome had been erected. Blooms of golden light that had gilded everything as if liquid gold had spilled from elven hands had lit up those early endless nights.
But this .
This was a different kind of magic.
Something far more beautiful and primal.
Aquilan’s eyes were lightly shut. His dark lashes fanned out across sun-kissed skin. He seemed completely unaware of the light that surrounded him. Declan’s gaze flickered about the room to confirm that others were seeing this. But none seemed alarmed. All had settled into their seats and were sipping their drinks, eyes half shut in pleasure, as Aquilan’s ethereal voice rose up around them.
In a way, the dimness made it seem that only Declan and the Sun King were in the room. Not that there was a corresponding shaft of light illuminating him. No, the darkness embraced him completely.
Declan was unseen.
Hidden.
So he could look .
Could gaze .
Could drink in Aquilan without anyone knowing.
Like a hunter, he moved silently, picking up a tray that contained a carafe of ice cold Chelios along with many other drinks for various patrons. This would allow him to stalk nearer the king as he pretended to fill and exchange glasses. It would obscure his true purpose.
Declan frowned for a moment.
True purpose?
What was this true purpose?
He had none unless it was to simply… make him mine and mine alone.
The hair on the back of his neck rose up and the tattoo on his forearm burned at that thought. He’d never had such a thought before. He’d never even wanted to have one. Was this what people felt when they were attracted to someone? It was terrifying, if so. It felt like something outside of him yet inside of him was waking up and demanding he take notice of it. No, more than take notice.
Give it control.
To hear Finley speak of Glass Scholar Neldor was to hear someone wax poetic about the beauty of a mind and face. Or to see Michael gaze upon Shonda like he was seeing her every time for the first time and couldn’t believe his eyes. That’s what he’d always thought love was all about. But there was no darkness in either Finley or Michael’s admiration. There was no possession. In fact, Finley seemed to simply want to be accepted into Neldor’s group of fawning students and be looked upon with affection and admiration. Michael was content to make his wife’s life more joyful. There was no clawing thing that wanted to be in charge in either of those versions of love.
Is this another thing wrong with me? He wondered with a sway of despair. And what happened to keeping away from him? What happened to avoiding him at all costs? I cannot give into this–this thing!
So should he stay behind the bar? Should he hide in the back room? No. No, he couldn’t do that. Not even if getting as near to Aquilan as possible was what the thing wanted. It was what he wanted too.
He was in the darkness after all so no one would see him gaze upon the Sun King. Least of all Aquilan. So it was harmless for him to go serve drinks. It was harmless for him to drift near the Sun King. And with that, he was moving without conscious thought from around the bar, balancing the tray on one hand with ease and grace.
Was he in charge? Was he?
Aquilan’s song ran along his skin like a gentle caress. It stole up his spine and caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise again, but this time in pleasure and not in alarm. The crawling sensation eased as he listened to Aquilan. The fear receded. He just needed to listen to the song. That was all.
The Dawn was otherwise silent. Even the fire smothered any discordant snaps , pops and crackles . The expressions that settled on the patron’s faces told him why. They were entranced. Lips slightly parted. Eyes wide. Still as stone. Yet that same possessive voice in Declan’s head told him that this song was somehow just for him.
He sings for me. His voice… The voice of the king… Aquilan Fairlynn… He sings for me.
He drifted past Snaglak and Finley, both of whom had also gone quiet and turned their full attention to the Sun King. Even Lily had stopped whizzing up and down the bar serving drinks. Her bright eyes and freckled face were focused on Aquilan, too. She blinked as her mouth opened in a silent “O” of appreciation. Even the fairies had stopped flying around the room. Snow and Rain had dared peek their heads out of the back room. Their iridescent wings fluttered only occasionally to keep them aloft.
Declan knew that to hear Aquilan sing was something that none present–absent perhaps Rhalyf or maybe Helgrom–would ever have the honor of hearing normally. Yet Aquilan sang with all of his heart for strangers who listened with rapt attention.
He sings for me , the voice inside of him murmured.
Other Aravae had burst into song in the Dawn before. Elves and singing were like bread and butter. Dwarves weren’t far behind in their love of music. But Aquilan’s voice made even the memory of those other brilliant singers seem tinny and discordant. His voice was like sunlight dappling verdant green grass or clear water running down from snow-capped mountains.
Declan passed by Varhad and Strofin’s table. The gremlin cringed as Declan drew near, but only at the last moment when Declan obscured his view of Aquilan. The goblin had been about to snarl, but once he saw it was Declan, his lips pressed tightly together and he settled down lower in his chair. Varhad’s eyes were shadowed as he listened to Aquilan. The beauty of the elves’ voices always made the dwarves remember the ancient halls of their lost homes in the Under Dark. Unspeakable joy mixed with endless sorrow was the cost of every elven song.
The rest of the room was lost in shadow as it seemed to grow darker while that golden light suffused the air around Aquilan only grew. His long hair gleamed. His sapphire blue eyes could just be glimpsed under dark lashes. There was a small smile on his lips as he sang in Katyr, but Declan understood every single word.
It was a familiar song. A tale that the Aravae loved. It was about Elashor, an elven prince, who had hunted a magical stag. Elashor the brave. Elashor the fleetest of foot. Elashor the keenest of eye. This elven prince was feted and praised from one end of his kingdom to the other, but he cared nothing for the admiration thrown his way. For Elashor’s sole desire was to hunt . The chase was everything to him and there was nothing and no one he could not successfully take down.
Declan found himself appreciating this aspect of the elven prince. For he was a hunter too. He set down drinks as he circled the tables at the very outside of the Dawn, his eyes fixed upon Aquilan. His feet were silent. His movements seemingly unhurried and yet economical.
Aquilan sang of how the gods grew weary of Elashor’s arrogance. Elashor did not praise them for his skills, but thought only of the endless training he had engaged in to earn them. He, alone, was responsible for his abilities. He, alone, should have the glory for his kills. But the gods would have their due .
Declan had never believed in gods or monsters before the Leviathan came. His parents had taken him to church a few times, but other than the pretty music and the sweet smell of incense nothing had reached him. The words in the Bibles at each pew had squiggled in his mind and he’d quickly stopped trying to read the onion skin pages or understand the words of the sweaty priest.
But after the Leviathan appeared. After Aquilan rose like the sudden dawn. After that… He’d realized he believed , but in things that were far different than what other humans did. Even now human religions still hung on, but they were changing every day and nearly unrecognizable from what they had been before the war.
Aquilan’s voice went dark and deep as he sang of when the gods took notice of the skilled hunter. Elashor, they determined, would find a foe he could never catch. And so one autumn day, as the trees turned from dark green to red and gold and the Summer’s warmth was laced with Fall’s chill, Elashor caught sight of the most magnificent stag he had ever seen. The antlers were obsidian and the coat was snow white.
The melody rose as sunlight illuminated the stag between two trees and Elashor’s eyes widened. The animal had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. And it was magnificent. Like nothing Elashor had ever seen before. And he was transfixed. He must have that creature for himself!
Yes, he is mine, the voice inside of Declan whispered as he circled Aquilan, getting nearer and nearer to his table.
There was a breathless silence in Aquilan’s song as Elashor reached for the long bow slung over his back. The stag watched, dark eyes unblinking, as, with a graceful movement, Elashor brought his long bow around and nocked an arrow with purple fletching.
Run, Declan thought to the stag even though he knew well how the story went. Other Aravae had sung this tale but not so thrillingly.
No, stay. Stay right where you are, the voice inside of him chuckled. You are right where I want you.
Aquilan’s voice went taut as the bowstring. It rose into an almost scream as the arrow was released and streaked through the crystal air towards the beautiful stag. The arrow’s course was true. It would hit for certain. The stag would fall. Elashor knew this and almost felt a touch of melancholy at the thought that the moment was over so fast.
Until… it wasn’t.
At the final second, the stag shifted to the side and the arrow streamed past it. The wind from its passage had the stag’s nearest ear twitching. Elashor let out a cry of shock and dismay. But his heart pumped with the addictive thrill of the chase. He knew even as he reached for another arrow that the stag would run and he would follow.
Run, Declan cried internally.
Stay. Be mine. You know you want to be mine, the voice inside of him said.
The stag turned. Its tail twitching and its powerful haunches flexing as it raced off between the trees. And Elashor was after it. His long, golden hair streamed behind him like a war banner. His lips skinned back from his teeth. He leaped over fallen trunks and ducked under low-hanging branches. He did not allow any obstacle to slow him as he flew after the white stag with the black antlers.
As the ground grew steep and rocky and the stag leaped up the mountainside almost as if it had wings instead of hooves, Aquilan’s voice lifted into impossible heights of clarity. Elashor, though, was not far behind. Many would have tired from such a pell mell race up a nearly sheer trail, but not him. For he had trained long and hard. Every day he had strengthened himself for such a climb. He was fleeter of foot than any other creature alive. Yet the stag kept ahead of him, its white hindquarters flashing between the golden foliage.
But every mountain had a final peak where there was nowhere else to go. And the stag reached that point. The creature balanced there, on that precarious edge, unable to go further unless it truly could fly. The only way down was a sheer drop into nothingness.
Aquilan’s voice became a mere murmur as Elashor stopped running and simply walked towards his cornered prey. There was no need to rush. The hunt was over. The dark eyes of the stag reflected Elashor’s golden form back to him.
It knows the truth: it is mine. He is mine, the voice said. See? Why do you resist this? This truth?
Truth? Declan asked.
Aquilan’s voice was soft as snow as he sang of Elashor stopping ten paces away from the stag. He nocked another arrow. He brought the bowstring back, the purple fletching practically brushing the cusp of his pointed ear. Time slowed. Aquilan’s voice rose as the arrow flew. It cut through snowflakes that drifted down from the peerless blue sky. It sliced the air in twain.
Run! Declan cried.
There is nowhere to go, the voice answered.
But the voice was wrong. For, like before, the stag moved to avoid the arrow. It threw itself off the mountaintop. There for one instant, gone the next. Elashor stared at the empty space where the stag had been with his heart in his throat. He had missed again! But worse, the creature had stolen its own life from him.
The elven prince raced to the top and looked over. Aquilan’s voice ululated as he described how the mist obscured the ground below for long moments, but then a chill westerly wind blew it away for an instant. And far beneath Elashor, the stag stood on solid ground–completely unhurt–staring back at him.
With a mixture of fury and joy, Elashor fired another arrow at the stag. But it, too, did not land. And the hunt was on again. Elashor vowed never to return to his people until the stag was his. And, to this day, Aquilan sang, many claimed to have seen him and the stag flitting through the woods in an eternal chase, but Prince Elashor the brave, the fleetest of foot, had not yet returned to his people.
Run, Declan whispered.
But you have caught him. And he wishes to be caught. Don’t you see? Look where you are, the voice pointed out.
And Declan realized he was standing in front of Aquilan, staring openly, holding the carafe of Chelios absently in one hand as the last note died. He was in the light.
The clapping and stamping of feet, along with calls for an encore, echoed throughout the Dawn. It was only then that Declan came back to himself and jolted.
What am I doing? What have I done?
Why hadn’t he stayed back at the bar? He’d walked over here as if in a trance! Now everyone had seen his gawking! In fact, he caught the narrow-eyed glances of Leisha and Seith–the two Aravae who had spoken ill of him earlier–aimed at him once more with even greater dislike. And they were not the only ones staring.
Rhalyf, the Sun King’s best friend, was also looking at him with definite distrust. But worse of all, Aquilan’s eyes, which had almost been shut as he sang, abruptly opened fully. He gazed up at Declan, completely aware of him, seemingly knowing that Declan had been watching him the whole time. The welcoming smile on his full lips did not ease Declan’s heart, but caused it to hammer harder.
He sang for me…
Of course, he did, the voice chuckled.
Declan’s cheeks burned hotly and he quickly ducked his head to hide his confusion and embarrassment. But it was more than that. He was cold and hot. He didn’t know what he was doing. He truly had intended to just watch the king while no one noticed. He had intended to stay away from Aquilan at all costs. But instead, he was here, right in front of him, gazing at him like a school boy with a crush. Or… or something else. The urge to simply turn and flee back to the bar came over him, but it was Helgrom’s gruff, warm voice that had him stilling in his escape.
“Ach, good lad! The king’s throat is undoubtedly parched after that song! Fill up his glass to the top and keep it filled,” Helgrom commanded.
Declan rarely spoke, but now he truly found himself incapable of uttering a word. He hastily poured wine into the cup that Aquilan lifted up for him. The carafe was trembling, or rather, his hand was. He gritted his teeth.
Keep still, damn you!
But then there was a steadying hand on his. His breath caught. His heart skipped a beat. The Sun King covered Declan’s hand on the carafe, stopping the trembling. Declan found the “thanks” strangled in his throat. The Sun King’s hand was soft, silky, and warm against his own. He imagined those fingers pushing the sweatshirt back and running over the “tattoo” of the knife. Heat bloomed between his legs at the thought even as he feared the hard weight of the knife appearing in his sleeve.
“Are you all right, Declan?” Aquilan asked softly. “You promised me that you would rest if you felt at all unwell.”
“I…” Declan swallowed. He could not speak, but he must! His cheeks flared hotter. “F-fine.”
That “fine” came out more like a grunt than a word. But his throat was not cooperating with him. Words had never been his friends. Actions normally suited him better, but with his trembling, those had betrayed him too. But the Sun King seemed not to mind. He merely smiled more broadly.
“If you’re sure,” Aquilan murmured.
A sharp nod.
“That was brilliant singing, my king!” Rhalyf laughed lightly. “Better than I have ever heard you, I think.”
Because he was singing for me!
Aquilan, who was still looking at Declan, let out a self-deprecatory huff and said, “You are only saying that because you asked me to sing, Rhalyf! If it was not pleasing to you, at least, I should never do it in public again.”
“What?” Helgrom let out a mouthful of smoke he’d drawn in from his pipe. “You’d deprive the world of your voice? King Aquilan, I did not think you were so cruel!”
“Truly, King Aquilan,” Michael said, blinking rapidly as if he had fallen into a trance, too, “Helgrom is not overstating it. Your voice… It is remarkable.”
“You are very kind,” Aquilan said. Only then did he slowly release his hold on Declan’s hand. The trembling had stilled and his glass was full to overflowing. “But there are many better than I, especially with the higher notes on the Forever Hunt.”
“I would have you sing the second half of it.” Helgrom gestured with his pipe towards the Sun King.
Aquilan turned towards Helgrom and the loss of his regard was like a shadow crossing over the Sun. Yet, despite that, Declan found he could move again. He swiftly went around the Sun King towards Rhalyf who had rather regally held out his own half empty glass. Rhalyf’s eyes tracked Declan as he came around with the wine.
What have I done to annoy him?
But even as Declan thought that, he realized his obvious mooning over the Aravae king had most likely been unseemly at best and unforgivable at worst. Aquilan wasn’t a normal person even though he acted as if he were. Likely, there were rules about staring at the Sun King or something like that. Looking into the light of Heaven, so to speak. The light that had suffused the Sun King was gone now. The Dawn’s candles burned brightly. Had it ever actually gone dark like he had seen? Or maybe that was another illusion like the voice in his mind.
“What do you mean the ‘ second part’, Helgrom?” Aquilan asked, his voice alight with interest. “I have never heard of this!”
Helgrom’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Truly? Well, perhaps not.”
“Why perhaps not?” Michael asked, waving off Declan’s attempts to pour him wine.
With a cough, Helgrom said, “Because it is a very Under Dark interpretation of the story.”
“Which is?” Aquilan tilted his head to the side.
“That the song is about the Night King,” Helgrom answered after a long moment.
“Fancy you knowing so much about Vex!” Rhalyf exclaimed, but there was a note of almost alarm in his voice as if he wished Helgrom were not so knowledgeable.
“The Draesiwen and Kindreth alliance lasted thousands of years, Rhalyf,” Helgrom answered with a half shrug. “He officiated my great-great-great grandmother’s wedding. He was… our friend.”
“Until he wasn’t. I wouldn’t have thought tales of Vex–good ones, at least–would have made it down to your generation,” Rhalyf pointed out.
“Now I am truly intrigued!” Aquilan’s eyes brightened even more. If that was possible. “Tell me this tale!”
“Well,” Helgrom rumbled and began tamping more tobacco into his pipe as he spoke, “some have said that the Night King is one of the participants in the Forever Hunt .”
“Vex?” Aquilan’s forehead furrowed. “Is he supposed to be Elashor then?”
“Depends. You see, Vex was said to have taken all credit for his magical prowess and honored not the gods at all,” Helgrom stated. “His magic was so much greater than any who had come before that it was considered heresy to say such a thing, of course. He, of all people, should be thanking the gods. But no. He looked only to himself.”
Aquilan nodded slowly. “That was certainly true of Elashor. His gifts were his own. Refined from millennia of training and use.”
“And the stag represented the great magics that Vex still sought–still seeks –in the Under Dark. He turned away from the Sun and the sky, from the mountains and the forests, and headed deep underground to seek the unfindable. To chase the uncatchable. To hunt the impossible,” Helgrom said.
Declan found himself lingering as Helgrom spoke, fascinated not so much by the story, but by Aquilan's reaction to it. If he had thought the Sun King would be peeved that evidently a favorite tale of his involved the Night King, it did not show on his face.
I’m doing this for Finley. Not myself. He would kill me if I did not learn this story of Vex for him, Declan told himself. That is why I linger here.
“Ah,” the Sun King said, tapping his chin, “yes, yes, I can see that interpretation working quite well!”
“Ah, but that is not the only Under Dark interpretation. You see, others think the stag was Vex,” Helgrom explained as he lit the rich, brown tobacco in his pipe. He blew out a perfect smoke ring.
“The stag?” Aquilan’s eyes went wide.
A nod from Helgrom as he puffed at his pipe and stroked his beard. “Vex was truly blessed by the gods with magic far greater than any other elf. And it was those that were jealous of him who chased him.”
While Declan could never imagine Aquilan being jealous of anyone–how could he?--he had no trouble whatsoever believing other Aravae were capable of it. They were brilliant, beautiful and wondrous. But drinking, especially, could reveal darker truths in any person’s heart.
“And so they hunted him down… or tried to,” Aquilan remarked softly. “And he was forced to leave the sunlit world for the Under Dark to protect himself?”
Another nod. “So they say. But it is a very Under Dark explanation, as I said.”
“One that Vex would have encouraged himself, I’m sure,” Rhalyf said dryly.
“Ah, don’t go quite yet, Declan,” Helgrom said. “The king’s cup will need refreshing before too long.”
Declan had been lingering, but with the end of the tale, he knew he had to go. His heart ached at the thought. But really, he had already made such a mess of things. Yet Helgrom had offered him a reprieve. Should he take it?
“He can leave the carafe,” Rhalyf suggested with slitted eyes.
And just for that, Declan wanted to stay. Aquilan frowned at Rhalyf.
“I would have Declan join us,” Aquilan said warmly.
“There don’t look like there are any more chairs to be had for love or money in the Dawn,” Rhalyf said in a rather breathy tone.
“Then he can have mine,” Aquilan said and was preparing to stand up.
Declan put out a hand. “No! Ah… no, King Aquilan, you stay there. I–I’m fine standing. Besides, I cannot leave Lily all on her own at the bar.”
Aquilan glanced over at the halfling who was zipping around the bar on her stool once more. The king clearly smiled at her zeal, but then looked slightly disappointed as it was clear that there were far more customers than she could handle. Declan really had to leave.
“Surely, you will not stay away all night,” Aquilan’s voice was so full of sorrow that Declan couldn’t deny him.
Even though he should.
He is mine.
Declan shook off that voice. “No, King Aquilan. I will go get more wine for you. I will take care of you.”
The last came out in a deeper tone than he’d intended. He felt a flush wanting to coat his cheeks, but he ignored it. Rhalyf sniffed. Helgrom looked at him through swirls of pipe smoke. Michael had a lifted eyebrow.
Aquilan smiled, but his eyes were shadowed with worry. Was Declan shaking again? It was true that he didn’t feel himself. But that had nothing to do with weakness…
“I’ll be back,” Declan promised. “Do not fear.”
Declan gave him a quick bow before he forced himself to head back to the bar. It was bedlam over there. Lily gave him a grateful look.
“We’re all out of the Tavistock red, Declan! There’s a few barrels out back. Could you go out and get it, love?” Lily asked.
He nodded. Even if she could have heard him over the roar of the crowd all asking for different drinks, he was done with speaking that night. Words always got him into trouble and it seemed worse this time. So he crossed through the back kitchen, past Rain and Snow who were squabbling over who would dry the dishes, and pushed open the large double doors into the stable at the back. The scent of manure and wine rose up to greet him.
There were countless barrels stacked one on top of another. The Sun had finally set and so it was wonderfully dark outside. But that made figuring out which barrel was Tavistok red versus Grimfire whisky a little harder to tell. It was when he was pulling one barrel towards him that he heard the soft scuff of a boot on the ground. He was no longer alone. Leisha and Seith had joined him.
“ Vulluin ,” Leisha hissed, “you need to stay away from our king.”