Episode 138 City of Kings
City of Kings
Elowyn stiffens against Rominy’s chest, and Rominy grips the saddle tighter to avoid falling off the horse and taking her with him. Both their hearts pound now.
“Nebula arrived alone?” Grandmera asks.
How is she so calm?
“Saddled without a rider,” First Corivos says. “Elowyn, I am relieved to see you well. I assume this is Prince Rominy? It’s a pleasure to meet you, my prince. Forgive me for not giving you a better welcome. Please, call me Corivos.”
Rominy barely nods before Corivos slides back into his role as First among warriors. It’s an oddly incongruent position for an elf with one of the most open and friendly faces Rominy’s encountered. But Corivos must have earned his place for Lorial and Nestraya to choose him to succeed her as First.
“Report, Second,” Corivos says to one of the elves who accompanied them to Nunia.
“Rebel high borns, my First. Three waylaid Tharios near the border early this morning. Two escaped, and Werithen Balenothi passed from the light. Our prince nearly forfeited his life attempting to keep Werithen among the living.”
“Werithen? It’s been many years since that name last passed my ears. I assume Lorial and Nestraya are with Tharios and Viala now?”
“Yes, my First. I expect them to reach Windhaven sometime tonight if our prince recovers enough for the journey.”
“Rebel high borns. I had hoped to never hear those words together again.”
“As did we all,” Grandmera says.
“Nestraya would douse me and then flay me alive if we devoted warrior elves to escorting them home when Cerian and Princess Arisanna are unaccounted for. We’ll focus our efforts on Cerian and trust Lorial and Nestraya to care for themselves.
” Corivos turns to Second Rafelis. “Ten bands of five, as we discussed. A tracker with each group. Fan out in every direction, and stay on alert at all times. Spread the word that we’re searching for Cerian and Princess Arisanna rather than Tharios. Trust no one.”
“Fenoral is among their number,” Grandmera says, and Corivos pales in the glow from her fire magic.
“Reorganize the bands to guard against destruction magic,” he says to Second Rafelis. “Only one plant wielder per band.”
“Understood.” Second Rafelis turns his horse back toward the other warriors in the distance.
“How may we serve?” one of the elves in their party asks. He seems to be the highest ranking among the warriors who traveled to Feressa.
“Rest for now so you may join the search in the morning if necessary.” Corivos acknowledges Rominy’s men. “You must be the prince’s guard detail. Whatever you need is yours for the asking. Please don’t hesitate.”
“Thank you, First Corivos,” Jonas says. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”
Corivos returns to the warriors under his command, and Rominy reminds himself to breathe.
“This is my fault,” Elowyn whispers.
“What’s done is done, my elfling,” Grandmera says. “Now is the time to be strong and do what needs doing. And for you, that means sleep.”
Elowyn lets out a guttural growl as she flings fireballs from her palms high into the air. Stars above. Is she trying to light the woods on fire?
“Feel better?” Grandmera asks.
“No. I feel nauseated.”
“Hmm. That’s unfortunate. Perhaps you can try your magic again tomorrow.”
Rominy glances between them. It seems best to stay out of this conversation.
“Cerian is missing!” Elowyn cries. “And look at me. I’m like a lump. Worse than a lump. I should be out there helping.”
“You help by regaining your strength so we need not worry about you, too. I suggest you make the best of this moment and regale your binding partner on the sights of Darlei before you take to your bed. I will see you in the morning.”
Grandmera nudges her horse forward, and the warrior elves surrounding them break off from Rominy’s guards and follow.
Save one.
“I’ve been assigned to assist your guard unit while you sojourn in Darlei,” the elf tells Rominy.
“This is Third Taliel,” Elowyn says. She sounds dejected. She doesn’t even comment on his racing heart as they move forward again toward the lights in the distance.
The pull to help find Arisanna is overwhelming, but he can’t leave Elowyn. Nausea rises in Rominy’s own stomach at the thought of doing nothing.
Perhaps it’s his turn to be strong for Elowyn. To help her exist in this dark moment.
At least that would be doing something.
“Tell me what I’m looking at,” Rominy says softly near Elowyn’s ear, and her breath catches when he presses his lips to its pointed tip. Whether he should do that here or not is debatable, but she just lit up the sky with her fire magic. A kiss on her ear probably won’t hurt her.
The forest has thinned, and lanterns dot quaint cobbled streets ahead. The only buildings in sight seem to be grown from trees.
And a massive willow stands in the shadowy distance.
“You truly care about Darlei at a moment like this?” Elowyn asks.
“I care about you. There’s nothing I can do for Arisanna and Cerian. But I can care for you.”
Elowyn breathes in deeply and sighs. “Welcome to Darlei, the City of Kings. Zelovon was born here, and it was here that he chose to find his final rest when he passed from the light. See that willow tree? It’s the Tree of Memories. It holds the essences of every former King of Lostariel.”
“By essence, do you mean remains, or—”
“Their memories. Who they were deep inside. Their ashes as well.”
That’s a little disturbing.
“My father communes with the tree,” she continues, “but he can’t speak of it to anyone else. He’s often taken Tharios, but Cerian and I have accompanied him as well. I hear him speaking—asking questions and responding—but I can only ever speculate on what is said in return.”
That’s a lot disturbing. Perhaps they’ll stay away from the ghost tree. That sounds like a good idea.
“Darlei is a quiet outpost now,” Elowyn continues.
“Most families living here have members in the warrior bands stationed near the border, though Pera’s Council of Elders assembles here at times.
Many high-born families maintain dwellings in Darlei.
” She yawns, and Rominy nudges the stallion into a brisker pace.
At least that conversation seemed to distract her a bit.
He’s about to ask for directions to Windhaven when a magnificent tree-grown estate comes into view.
“Is that—”
“Home,” Elowyn breathes.
“You live in a tree. I mean, I knew that, of course. But wow. Seeing it is something else.”
“I live in a castle,” she murmurs. Her show of strength seems to have passed.
“That’s right. You went and married the future King of Nunia. Crazy elf.”
That draws a weak laugh from her. “I think using my magic was a mistake.”
“I’ll send for Healer Cadowyn when you’re settled, my princess,” Third Taliel says, and Elowyn whimpers.
“Thank you,” Rominy says.
Thoughts of Arisanna and Cerian in trouble crowd in on him, but he pushes them aside again. Everything that can be done is already being done.
At least Cerian is far from helpless. The thought comforts Rominy a little.
Hopefully, they’re all right, wherever they are.
“What time is it?” Arisanna yawns and rubs her eyes. “I think I fell asleep again.”
“You were asleep for a while,” Cerian says softly as he kisses her temple. “Go back to sleep. You’re safe with me.”
“It’s so dark tonight. I don’t suppose you could create one of those magic lights you’re so good at?”
“We’re safer without it.”
That’s what she figured.
“I know you need less sleep than I do, but you’ll need to rest eventually,” she whispers. “How long are we going to ride tonight?”
“It’s not safe to stop—for us to rest unprotected.”
“So you’ll just stay awake forever?”
“I...don’t know. Starfire seems to believe we need to continue for now.”
“We don’t even know where Starfire is taking us.” She hugs Cerian’s arms surrounding her and leans her head against him. “I’m worried about you.”
“I know.”
The urge to ask if he’s sure they’re doing the right thing fills her, but she keeps her doubt to herself. He doubts himself enough without her adding to his fears.
For a while, they ride without speaking, and Arisanna’s drowsiness grows once more.
But a glimmer of light ahead cuts through her sleepiness, and she clutches Cerian’s hand at her waist.
“I see it,” he breathes in her ear. “Don’t make a sound.”
They’re riding toward the light. Why are they riding toward the light?
But Cerian doesn’t attempt to stop Starfire. His trust in this unicorn is sweet but hopefully not misplaced.
As they get closer, the light takes the shape of a flickering arched doorway, and Arisanna frowns. It looks almost like their train doorway in the dark woods.
But this isn’t the heartlanding. Cerian seemed sure of that.
“It’s an Outerlander waypoint,” he murmurs.
Outerlander? The elves who live in the harsh Outerlands at the border with New Valderi? The Outerlanders fought for King Lorial in the battle where he almost died.
So are these friends?
Starfire is leading them straight to the light.
It seems they’re about to find out.