The Queen's Diaries, by Darius Mesmer
10 May 591
I awoke in the wild.
At first, I was confused...and lost. Where I expected to see the clean, white light of morning coming through my window; and the soft breeze billowing the curtain there…instead I saw the sunlight filtering mutedly through the fabric of the tent. Crickets chirped out their night song still; and somewhere in the distance I heard an owl gently protesting the arrival of day. And then I remembered…that House was gone…and Father, and Mother. I was in the hands of this stranger, this “Guardian”…and my home was now the dew-dampened meadows and shaded glens of the forest.
I rose silently from my bed, pulling back my hair and binding it with a ribbon in a fashion that had now become part of my daily ritual. I reached the tent fold, and slowly parted it to peek out – knowing before I even did so what sight would greet my eyes. There he sat, his overlarge frame poised on a large boulder at the edge of the clearing; one leg extended, while the other was folded half beneath him as if the slightest provocation might cause him to push up and out with a mighty thrust as he leaped into motion. His large, worn hands braced him there – amplifying the sense of taut, animal energy that coiled inside his human form; and his cold, blue eyes peered out from under the unruly black mane searching for something on the far horizon. Always searching…but for what? I am not sure even he knew.
I closed the flap and plopped back down on the slightly damp blanket, reflecting on the odd turn of events that had brought me to this time and place. My Mother’s capture and slaying by Nargoroth…my Father’s betrayal, and the fall of his House…and his eventual departure for the West…Grindemor…I shuddered at this last thought, and looked at my hands – sure I would see the blood upon them. But instead, my small, white hands closed into tight fists and the skin over the knuckles was drawn tight. Never again will such an act occur that these hands might stay…
I lay back, staring at the ceiling of the crude, weather-worn tent. My mind drifted…to my Father who now walked in the Undying Lands across the great sea. Was he looking eastward at the rising sun, thinking of me? He was blessed his whole, long life with the gift of great sight…had he foreseen the plight of his People, and his daughter, as they sought their way in these dark days?
It seemed an odd quirk of Fate that he had entrusted me to the care of this Guardian. A strange choice of companions, he seemed; for he was often dark and distant, as if his mind and spirit traveled to far off lands even as his hulking body stood impassive before me. His brooding demeanor made him cold and unapproachable – or so it seemed to me at the outset. I would but look at the furrowed brow closing his eyes to slits as he pondered a difficult question; or when he struggled to understand something I or others had to say. Why him?, I wondered. Why had Father chosen this odd and awkward man – whom it seemed he barely knew – as Guardian for one of the daughters he loved more than anything in this world? Why entrust my care to this grim warrior it seemed he barely knew?
***
24 May 591
It has been nearly five months since we fled Taur-na-Sylvhara; and over three since I received Father’s sword with the note about his departure. I cannot say how far we have traveled, or even speak with certainty about the direction we have moved. We have marked few days in any one place – waking five mornings on the outskirts of Withrilion a town of men, as our longest stay to date. I was surprised to wake one day to find my Guardian sorting prizes he had taken from the town that night, as I had slumbered in deep and dreamless exhaustion from our travels. With great grandeur and ceremony – which made me wonder if he mocked me – he presented to me tanned hunting leathers and boots; and a worn grey cloak and hood made of coarse wool. These were clearly made for a young man – they seemed typical of hunting clothes I had seen before on men we occasionally sighted in the woods. He laughed nearly to tears as I emerged from the tent, choking on his own humor as he gasped out “we shall make a proper woodsman of you yet, dear Lady…for you look of hardy stock and hale disposition in those leathers.” I, of course, made a great show of simmering anger at the indignity of this disguise, mumbling under my breath about the injustice of travel with such a steward; but, in fact, I was quite pleased with the mysterious figure I was becoming; and quickly embraced my new persona. I was also pleased to see my Guardian laugh so – perhaps I have underestimated the complexity of the man after all. Time alone will tell.
Since that time, we have been on the move. Our contacts with the local people in villages we passed were few, and brief; though there were times when Lord Darius would disappear for short periods on errands he would say little about. We lived off the land as often as the stores acquired from the towns we passed. Game was becoming more abundant, as the spring thaw came and we continued moving across the lands. My Guardian was often curt in his responses to my questions about where we were and what we were doing – he seemed to be searching for something intently, and was somehow unwilling or unable to tell me what it was he sought. And so I chose not to press the issue.
There were few incidents worth noting in those early days. For the most part, our time was consumed by the dreary monotony of breaking camp shortly after dawn and a cold breakfast of salted venison and bread; packing up the tent and our few sparse belongings; and taking to horseback for that day’s journey…taking short breaks wrapped about a brisk noon meal, and finding a suitable camp again by night. Rarely was that ritualistic sequence interrupted; but when interruptions came it seemed they did so both abruptly and dramatically.
Today was one such occasion. We encountered five men at the ford of a narrow stream that cut across the road we traveled. This ragged band seemed to covet our horses and our few simple wares – a want that got the better of their judgment. Confronting us from three sides, with feet spread wide and hands upon the hilt of their swords, they blocked our progress on the forest path and demanded tolls for our passing. The leader – a swarthy, bearded man with an eye patch that said much of his prior misadventures – spoke for them, to the general amusement of his snickering companions: “Good Lords, we beg you lighten your loads and leave us with such trinkets as may be slowing your journey. We promise we will care for them well – especially those fine horses – as if they were still in the custody of their original stewards. Now come, make haste; for we are not patient men!”
I glanced at my Guardian, wondering what we would do without our horses and camp gear. The sight that awaited my eyes filled me with both reverent awe and a chilling fear, all in the same moment. He chuckled – a cold, grim sound that gave me a shiver and made the men glance at one another with sudden uncertainty. Lord Darius leaned forward in the saddle, fixed his cold, blue eyes upon the leader who now looked about with confusion. “So shall it be, Milord. We will deliver these, our few prized possessions, into your good care. I trust you may find some pleasure – nay, ecstasy – in them, for it will be short lived. Indeed, many in these parts will mark this day as the height of your good fortune; …for when the sun has set, and the night air calls you to slumber in its bosom, your head will find your pillow but your eyes will never more open on a new day. For you who lead a life so false, choose well; for this I offer as an abiding truth. Speak now, well and clear, of the choice you favor.”
Lord Darius’ eyes bored in upon the brigand, whose own fell to the ground in an awkward attempt to evade the burning gaze. His mumbled words came: “perhaps I was rash…these poor objects have no draw for us…go your way, before we change our mind and take this tax from you.” Darius smiled coldly at the five; then turned to me, nodding almost imperceptibly in a gesture to move ahead. I clucked twice and dug my heels into the sides of my mount to urge it forward, and watched from the corner of my eye as my Guardian did the same.
The five men parted to make way for us. But as I passed the first, a sudden gust of wind pushed back the partial cover of my hood, allowing a long wisp of my hair to break free and reveal itself. I reached up with my free hand and yanked it quickly back into place; but not before the last man – a foul, loutish looking beast whose few remaining teeth were stained brown from too much tobacco and too little care – saw my hair and the right side of my face. “Here now!!!” he shouted. “What’s this? Not a colt, this one; but a fair lass who passes for one. What other secrets might these two hold?”
With that, he stepped forward in front of me, grabbed the bridle of my mare and brought her to an abrupt stop as she whinnied in protest. A second grabbed Lord Darius’ reins while the others came forward, drawing their swords. In the confused rush that followed, I was dragged forcefully from the saddle by the brute nearest me, my hood falling away to reveal all. I felt powerful arms wrapping me up in a tight embrace that fairly squeezed the air from my lungs. I was vaguely aware of Lord Darius falling from his skittish horse as it bucked back and threw him from the saddle. The four fell upon him, and I screamed as loudly as I might – hoping for aid from any other quarter.
Before the sound of my shout died upon the breeze, I beheld an amazing sight. Lord Darius’ four attackers – so completely enveloping him that I had lost sight of him in the tumult - suddenly flew back in four directions at once, as if propelled by a great force. All four crashed to the ground at once, the sickening thud of flesh striking the earth complemented by the clang of swords striking rock. My eyes went wide; and I uttered a soft gasp of surprise as I saw my Guardian rise at the center – except he was changed; not at all the man who had stared down the leader so coolly but moments ago. His face was flushed a vivid, inhuman red; and was contorted into a horrific mask of anger and violence. His eyes flashed, glowing red and orange as if reflecting a great bonfire on a moonless night. He seemed, somehow, to have grown – taller, more formidable – and I could clearly see his large frame pressing at the seams of his leathers as if he might burst free of them. And I imagined, though my mind quite quickly rejected it, that I saw shimmering waves of heat emanating from his body – as one might see it on the road upon a hot summer’s day.
Lord Darius’ voice rang out; though it too seemed unworldly – harsh and guttural – and accented as if it was unaccustomed to human speech. Had I not been held so tightly, I should have covered my ears to hold back the grating, raspy sound. “MY LORDS…YOU HAVE MADE A GRIEVOUS ERROR TO TROUBLE US SO. PURCHASE WILL BE DEAR, FOR NOW YOUR VERY LIVES ARE FORFEIT.”
I cannot describe what happened next, too horrible the image of the carnage that followed. Within the span of mere minutes, the four lay dead – horribly mutilated by the blade he wielded and, most terribly, from the sheer power of his hands smashing and tearing at their helpless forms. My filthy captor released me, and fled for the safety of the near wood. But he fell, as a long dagger flew from my Guardian’s hand to take the villain high upon his back as he ran. The man crashed to the ground, and moved no more.
I turned to Darius in shock, fear and wonder. He stood there before me, shaking violently and panting like a wild beast. He looked at me, with such terrible eyes that I feared in that moment for my own life. What if he did not know me? What if this rage spilled over into more thoughtless destruction? But a glimmer of recognition in his eyes broke the moment. He turned suddenly, raced for the cover of the wood; and disappeared. I watched him depart; and, after a minute or two, cautiously followed him.
I found him in a clearing, less than a hundred yards into the shelter of the trees. He sat on a fallen tree, shaking and muttering words I could not understand. I went to his side, and placed my hand gently upon his heaving shoulder. He looked up, the blue eyes I had come to know taking me in – the fiery red of them extinguished, just as the rage of his face had receded. He spoke: “I am sorry, Milady, that you had to see that. Were there any other way…” His voice trailed off, and he looked down miserably. I began to speak; to assure him it was well, and that our own lives had hung in that balance. Even as I opened my mouth though, he continued: “They knew. They sought a young lady with golden hair. Their change…not sudden lust or greed…they knew and were looking. They are…agents of our Enemy.”
I fell silent, my mouth agape in fear and confusion. Yet, I knew at once that he was right. The sudden change in their boldness compelled no other conclusion. We were indeed being hunted. If ever we had doubted it, the truth was now clear – we would find no safe harbor in the world of men.
I sat on the decaying trunk next to him, and leaned in close as his heavy arm fell across my shoulders and pulled me in close. I shivered with a chill despite the warm night air; still stunned by what I had witnessed in the battle done just moments ago. My mind was confused at the transformation I had seen; at this glimpse into the soul of a creature I was only now beginning to understand.
For, in that moment, I had seen my first glimpse of the dragon that lived within the man…
It has been nearly five months since we fled Taur-na-Sylvhara; and over three since I received Father’s sword with the note about his departure. I cannot say how far we have traveled, or even speak with certainty about the direction we have moved. We have marked few days in any one place – waking five mornings on the outskirts of Withrilion a town of men, as our longest stay to date. I was surprised to wake one day to find my Guardian sorting prizes he had taken from the town that night, as I had slumbered in deep and dreamless exhaustion from our travels. With great grandeur and ceremony – which made me wonder if he mocked me – he presented to me tanned hunting leathers and boots; and a worn grey cloak and hood made of coarse wool. These were clearly made for a young man – they seemed typical of hunting clothes I had seen before on men we occasionally sighted in the woods. He laughed nearly to tears as I emerged from the tent, choking on his own humor as he gasped out “we shall make a proper woodsman of you yet, dear Lady…for you look of hardy stock and hale disposition in those leathers.” I, of course, made a great show of simmering anger at the indignity of this disguise, mumbling under my breath about the injustice of travel with such a steward; but, in fact, I was quite pleased with the mysterious figure I was becoming; and quickly embraced my new persona. I was also pleased to see my Guardian laugh so – perhaps I have underestimated the complexity of the man after all. Time alone will tell.
Since that time, we have been on the move. Our contacts with the local people in villages we passed were few, and brief; though there were times when Lord Darius would disappear for short periods on errands he would say little about. We lived off the land as often as the stores acquired from the towns we passed. Game was becoming more abundant, as the spring thaw came and we continued moving across the lands. My Guardian was often curt in his responses to my questions about where we were and what we were doing – he seemed to be searching for something intently, and was somehow unwilling or unable to tell me what it was he sought. And so I chose not to press the issue.
There were few incidents worth noting in those early days. For the most part, our time was consumed by the dreary monotony of breaking camp shortly after dawn and a cold breakfast of salted venison and bread; packing up the tent and our few sparse belongings; and taking to horseback for that day’s journey…taking short breaks wrapped about a brisk noon meal, and finding a suitable camp again by night. Rarely was that ritualistic sequence interrupted; but when interruptions came it seemed they did so both abruptly and dramatically.
Today was one such occasion. We encountered five men at the ford of a narrow stream that cut across the road we traveled. This ragged band seemed to covet our horses and our few simple wares – a want that got the better of their judgment. Confronting us from three sides, with feet spread wide and hands upon the hilt of their swords, they blocked our progress on the forest path and demanded tolls for our passing. The leader – a swarthy, bearded man with an eye patch that said much of his prior misadventures – spoke for them, to the general amusement of his snickering companions: “Good Lords, we beg you lighten your loads and leave us with such trinkets as may be slowing your journey. We promise we will care for them well – especially those fine horses – as if they were still in the custody of their original stewards. Now come, make haste; for we are not patient men!”
I glanced at my Guardian, wondering what we would do without our horses and camp gear. The sight that awaited my eyes filled me with both reverent awe and a chilling fear, all in the same moment. He chuckled – a cold, grim sound that gave me a shiver and made the men glance at one another with sudden uncertainty. Lord Darius leaned forward in the saddle, fixed his cold, blue eyes upon the leader who now looked about with confusion. “So shall it be, Milord. We will deliver these, our few prized possessions, into your good care. I trust you may find some pleasure – nay, ecstasy – in them, for it will be short lived. Indeed, many in these parts will mark this day as the height of your good fortune; …for when the sun has set, and the night air calls you to slumber in its bosom, your head will find your pillow but your eyes will never more open on a new day. For you who lead a life so false, choose well; for this I offer as an abiding truth. Speak now, well and clear, of the choice you favor.”
Lord Darius’ eyes bored in upon the brigand, whose own fell to the ground in an awkward attempt to evade the burning gaze. His mumbled words came: “perhaps I was rash…these poor objects have no draw for us…go your way, before we change our mind and take this tax from you.” Darius smiled coldly at the five; then turned to me, nodding almost imperceptibly in a gesture to move ahead. I clucked twice and dug my heels into the sides of my mount to urge it forward, and watched from the corner of my eye as my Guardian did the same.
The five men parted to make way for us. But as I passed the first, a sudden gust of wind pushed back the partial cover of my hood, allowing a long wisp of my hair to break free and reveal itself. I reached up with my free hand and yanked it quickly back into place; but not before the last man – a foul, loutish looking beast whose few remaining teeth were stained brown from too much tobacco and too little care – saw my hair and the right side of my face. “Here now!!!” he shouted. “What’s this? Not a colt, this one; but a fair lass who passes for one. What other secrets might these two hold?”
With that, he stepped forward in front of me, grabbed the bridle of my mare and brought her to an abrupt stop as she whinnied in protest. A second grabbed Lord Darius’ reins while the others came forward, drawing their swords. In the confused rush that followed, I was dragged forcefully from the saddle by the brute nearest me, my hood falling away to reveal all. I felt powerful arms wrapping me up in a tight embrace that fairly squeezed the air from my lungs. I was vaguely aware of Lord Darius falling from his skittish horse as it bucked back and threw him from the saddle. The four fell upon him, and I screamed as loudly as I might – hoping for aid from any other quarter.
Before the sound of my shout died upon the breeze, I beheld an amazing sight. Lord Darius’ four attackers – so completely enveloping him that I had lost sight of him in the tumult - suddenly flew back in four directions at once, as if propelled by a great force. All four crashed to the ground at once, the sickening thud of flesh striking the earth complemented by the clang of swords striking rock. My eyes went wide; and I uttered a soft gasp of surprise as I saw my Guardian rise at the center – except he was changed; not at all the man who had stared down the leader so coolly but moments ago. His face was flushed a vivid, inhuman red; and was contorted into a horrific mask of anger and violence. His eyes flashed, glowing red and orange as if reflecting a great bonfire on a moonless night. He seemed, somehow, to have grown – taller, more formidable – and I could clearly see his large frame pressing at the seams of his leathers as if he might burst free of them. And I imagined, though my mind quite quickly rejected it, that I saw shimmering waves of heat emanating from his body – as one might see it on the road upon a hot summer’s day.
Lord Darius’ voice rang out; though it too seemed unworldly – harsh and guttural – and accented as if it was unaccustomed to human speech. Had I not been held so tightly, I should have covered my ears to hold back the grating, raspy sound. “MY LORDS…YOU HAVE MADE A GRIEVOUS ERROR TO TROUBLE US SO. PURCHASE WILL BE DEAR, FOR NOW YOUR VERY LIVES ARE FORFEIT.”
I cannot describe what happened next, too horrible the image of the carnage that followed. Within the span of mere minutes, the four lay dead – horribly mutilated by the blade he wielded and, most terribly, from the sheer power of his hands smashing and tearing at their helpless forms. My filthy captor released me, and fled for the safety of the near wood. But he fell, as a long dagger flew from my Guardian’s hand to take the villain high upon his back as he ran. The man crashed to the ground, and moved no more.
I turned to Darius in shock, fear and wonder. He stood there before me, shaking violently and panting like a wild beast. He looked at me, with such terrible eyes that I feared in that moment for my own life. What if he did not know me? What if this rage spilled over into more thoughtless destruction? But a glimmer of recognition in his eyes broke the moment. He turned suddenly, raced for the cover of the wood; and disappeared. I watched him depart; and, after a minute or two, cautiously followed him.
I found him in a clearing, less than a hundred yards into the shelter of the trees. He sat on a fallen tree, shaking and muttering words I could not understand. I went to his side, and placed my hand gently upon his heaving shoulder. He looked up, the blue eyes I had come to know taking me in – the fiery red of them extinguished, just as the rage of his face had receded. He spoke: “I am sorry, Milady, that you had to see that. Were there any other way…” His voice trailed off, and he looked down miserably. I began to speak; to assure him it was well, and that our own lives had hung in that balance. Even as I opened my mouth though, he continued: “They knew. They sought a young lady with golden hair. Their change…not sudden lust or greed…they knew and were looking. They are…agents of our Enemy.”
I fell silent, my mouth agape in fear and confusion. Yet, I knew at once that he was right. The sudden change in their boldness compelled no other conclusion. We were indeed being hunted. If ever we had doubted it, the truth was now clear – we would find no safe harbor in the world of men.
I sat on the decaying trunk next to him, and leaned in close as his heavy arm fell across my shoulders and pulled me in close. I shivered with a chill despite the warm night air; still stunned by what I had witnessed in the battle done just moments ago. My mind was confused at the transformation I had seen; at this glimpse into the soul of a creature I was only now beginning to understand.
For, in that moment, I had seen my first glimpse of the dragon that lived within the man…
***
28 May 591
It has been four days since the encounter with the rogue agents of Nargoroth, and we have been constant in our movements away from that place. It seems to me that we have moved generally west and north, as each evening I have watched the sun set over the horizon ahead of us. This night, we made camp far from the roads – in fact, our travel has been by old, unused forest paths for the most part; paths that have kept us far from the prying eyes of men. The days grow warmer, as summer begins to show its face. But on this night, we are huddled under a makeshift lean-to as a fine, cool rain falls around us. Despite the dangers, Lord Darius has made a small fire to warm us; and I have made a weak tea from the few herbs I carry.
We have not spoken of the battle at the ford, as I feared it would raise uncomfortable questions – some of which I was not sure I desired to answer. On this night, though, Darius stammered about in clumsy conversation about events of the past weeks; and insipid commentaries on the weather and the birdsongs now ever present in the wood. He seemed slightly agitated…preoccupied; and I sensed he wished to speak of things other than the nightsongs of the woodthrush. And so, at a pause, I blurted out this challenge: “Lord Darius. It seems you say much by saying nothing. It is as though a burden occupies your mind, yet cannot find its way to your lips. I pray you, speak freely and let us end this absurd banter!”
He looked at me, his eyes wide and mouth agape in mild shock. And then his face softened, and the creases of his eyes signaled the beginning of the coming smile. The smile became a soft chuckle; and the chuckle a laugh that rolled on and on until he was choking and tears rolled down his cheeks. Apparently, its cause was contagious as I too began to laugh uncontrollably – not quite sure why, and yet caught up in his infectious enthusiasm for whatever humors found him. This went on for some time, until it seemed he could breathe once more. He said: “If ever was there doubt as to your claim as heir to Eyrturheru, I am now forever satisfied. For it seems the sharpness of your tongue is exceeded only by the wit behind it. You see much, Corm en’Quessir, and clearly will not fail to speak what is in your mind or heart. And it seems you will accept no less from your companions. It is time, I think, that you know the truth of things.”
For the next two hours, I did little more than sit in rapt attention as he told his tale. I am sure he thought me feeble for my lack of response, other than an occasional nod or a limp “I see”; but it was, in truth, my utter fascination with the tales that held me mute so long. I heard an amazing story of his past – of his fealty to Nargoroth after his unholy entry into this life; of his murderous past as a cold and skilled assassin in service to his fell Master; of his chance encounter with Mother, and the dawning realization that there was good to balance the evils in this world; and all of the details of his encounters with Father that revealed the truth about my Mother and, ultimately, Father’s betrayal by Grindemor. He told me of the appointment to his office, and his sworn oath to the King to act as my steward. I could only sit, and listen, in stunned silence as his words poured out into the damp night air.
I felt a conflicting rush of emotions – fear and distaste at his violent past; pity for the life of isolation and darkness; and a growing fondness and trust for this forlorn, marvelous creature. Most of all, I came to understand Father’s wisdom in this choice; for not only was he a most formidable Guardian in the wild, dangerous world in which we now moved; but there could be no doubt of his sincere and unflagging commitment to his office.
He completed his tale, and looked at me with tortured eyes that it seemed I saw for the first time. I knew his fear; that I might react with fear and revulsion at all I had heard; and that the chance for trust between us – a bond that would serve to pull us through the inevitable challenges in the days to come – would be utterly lost in the moment. I rose, and moved the few feet around the fire, and pushed back the wild tangle of black hair to gently kiss his forehead. And I whispered to him “Mellonamin, cormlle naa tanya tel’raa. Elen sila lumenn omentilmo.” At that, he smiled…and the tension ebbed from his body.
It was as if a dam had broken free; with torrents of water long held back gushing forth to flood the plains beyond. He began to speak of many things, in a frenetic and jumbled rush. I sat patiently as he rambled on, smiling gently and nodding as it all came out. And, soon enough, he got to the crux of the matters at hand: “I have no doubt you thought me rash in my actions at the ford; and especially so in what might have seemed a cold-blooded murder of the last man as he retreated from the scene. But it was clear to me that their recognition of you was no accident; and to have allowed the one to escape would have meant more attention to our movements than we might wish. Had I not acted as I did – taking one more life to add to the roster that will one day damn my soul – we should have been discovered and our passage made impossible. Those men found what they had been seeking – a golden-haired, young Elvish lady moving in the wild, likely with one or more companions to give her some sense of safe passage.
We must assume that the word has gone forth to all corners of the known world; for there are none more hated and feared by our enemy than the heirs to Eyrturheru. He was a worthy adversary, your father; and more than that, he was the stuff of legend. For Nargoroth may be many things, but he is a learned man among them; and he is well aware of what the prophecies say about the heirs of the Elven king.”
He paused, and I considered this long. And I realized the wisdom in the words, even if the utter violence of his actions had shaken me to my core. “Open your eyes, Comet; and grow up!” a voice inside me screamed. And I knew, though my fifteenth birthday was yet some months away, that I must cast away any sense of girlish sentimentalism. War was in the world; and the heir to the King of the Northern Sylvan People must rise to play her part.
“Lord Darius. I thank you now, as I will no doubt thank you many times to come, for the honor you pay to my Father; and the service you give to me. Without you, I should be lost; and I will depend on you utterly for my safekeeping in the days ahead. But more than that, I will need your counsel, your candor…and your great, unwavering heart. I am a child who must become a Queen; and a Queen who must fulfill the destiny of ages beyond count for her People. Never before have the People faced such a plight; and it is only in realizing what has been written that their destiny might be properly fulfilled. It all hangs by a thread, it seems; and there is ill prospect for success if I may not count you as trusted friend and counselor to the House of Eyrturheru. Have I your pledge in this?”
He smiled, and said only “I may not commit that which has already been freely given. I have made this oath to your Father; and none but you may relieve me of it until its purpose is fulfilled. I give my life to you, Corm en’Quessir, though it seems a gift of modest value. But I must confess, that while we evade the sight of Nargoroth for the moment, I do not know the way to go. And we cannot wander all the world without purpose. I pray, each day, for the inspiration to know what your father sought of me…which way, and to whom, we might turn.”
I looked at him, fully noting the care and confusion in his eyes. And I was, at once, clear on what we must do. “Lord Darius; you have said with truth that Nargoroth hunts for Eyrturheru’s heirs. I am but one of them. My sister, Ivy, is the other. I know not where she is, other than that she is somewhere in the forests of Greatwood to the south, in the care of the fae. My heart tells me that our path must take us there – to know that she is safe. But more, a voice inside me tells me that the course we will follow will be made known there. We must turn to the south; and there will we find the course we were meant to follow.”
He nodded, and smiled. And I knew at once that he was pleased with the decision – and to have a clearer sense of direction and purpose. “I know of this place, Milady. It is full of enchantments and mischiefs large and small. It is many days journey from here, under the best of circumstances; and our progress will be slow for those conditions do not favor us at present. But southward shall we go, just as you deem it. And with the favor of the Fates, we may make it before the fall.”
He paused for a moment, before continuing. “I ask only one more boon, dear Lady. I am no great Lord, and would ask only that you call me by my name, without title or flourish. I am Darius, a simple servant of the House of Eyrturheru.”
I smiled, delighted at this gesture of friendship. “Yes, Dar…as you will”, I said, laughing. And before long, sleep took me – the gentle rhythm of the rain serving this night as my lullaby.
