Silevethiel Read online

  Working quickly to ensure the drug didn’t advance further, Laegon placed a thin veil of his magic around the perimeter of the poison. Once it was contained, he slowly worked backwards to the site where the arrow had penetrated Irewen’s skin, scrupulously eradicating the drug from the princess’s frail body.

  When the last of the poison was eliminated, Irewen was breathing easier, but she was by no means clear of danger. The princess had lost a great deal of blood. The dark fluid continued to ooze from her injuries.

  Ignoring the stabbing pain in his joints, Laegon concentrated on her puncture wounds. He again allowed his Sight to guide him and meticulously mended the damaged tissue and muscle in Irewen’s back before closing the skin.

  Expecting her to wake now that she was healed, he looked at her in anticipation. Nothing happened. She didn’t move. Her shallow breathing remained the same. Her eyes stayed closed. Not even the faintest sound escaped her lips.

  Perplexed, Laegon let his magic flow through her body once more, seeking anything he might have missed. Nothing. He sighed, defeated. Whatever was causing her to inch closer towards death was beyond the reach of his Sight.

  Knowing the best thing he could do was to get her out of the storm, he carefully lifted Irewen onto his horse. He settled behind her in the saddle and let her body rest comfortably against his chest.

  “She is fading,” he told Brégen, unable to mask the anxiety in his voice. “I can do no more for her here. We must seek shelter.”

  The Guardian nodded swiftly, then bolted to the east.

  “Naralé, Silwen,” Laegon shouted, feeling the mare respond with spirited vigor at the sound of her name. “Naralé!”

  Laegon’s tension continued to build. Silwen dashed after Brégen, closely following the lion as he hastily guided them to safety. The prince did his best to ignore the dark shadow looming ominously behind them. He sensed its deathly tendrils reaching viciously for the princess. They were in a hopeless race against the power of the dead.

  “Hold on, Irewen,” he whispered in her ear while silently willing Silwen to run faster. “Stay with me. Do not let go.”

  Irewen felt nothing—no pain, no fear, no sorrow.

  Not lumbered by the clutches of time, she floated aimlessly amidst the void that had consumed her mind. Her body was completely weightless, caught in the precarious realm between life and death. She had no sense of purpose or direction. She had no memories of the past and no dreams for the future. She didn’t know where she was, nor did she care.

  Irewen Donríel, Princess of Dargon, simply was.

  Suddenly, a brilliant light burst through the blackness, and a glorious warmth enveloped her body. She heard the hushed whispers of a man, struggling to reach her through the emptiness. She yearned for the stranger’s company and longed for his words to penetrate into the endless abyss where she remained trapped.

  A distant glimmer of hope sparked in her heart. She abruptly felt life.

  Her fragile dreams were quickly destroyed. A threatening darkness emerged behind her. Fear immediately consumed her body. She struggled to lift herself from the boundless void. The man’s urgent words of encouragement finally reached her. She frantically scrambled towards his desperate voice, to no avail. No matter how fast she willed herself to move, the menacing shadow lurched forward, expertly closing the brittle divide separating her from death.

  It seemed as though she was trying to swim through a sea of molasses, and she sank further into the murky depths. With harrowing despair, she realized she could not escape. Losing the strength to fight, she panicked.

  No! Her anguished plea was swallowed by the blackness. Please, do not take me! No!

  A sweet purring voice suddenly fluttered through her mind. «Come to me, Irewen. Follow me to the light.»

  Irewen watched in amazement as the enchanting figure of a pure white lioness hovered above the abyss. Sparkling crystal blue eyes gazed down upon her, and a powerful paw reached into the darkness. The chains pulling her deeper into the void instantly disintegrated.

  Relief flooded her body. She felt herself slowly ascending towards the lioness, and she reached for the safety of the animal’s welcoming paw. After a few agonizing moments, her fingers finally touched the velvety soft fur. She was hauled from the deadly chasm, smiling with unequivocal joy.

  3

  IREWEN TOOK A DEEP BREATH. SLOWLY, SHE OPENED her eyes, waiting patiently while her pupils gradually adjusted to the flickering orange light of the fire. Her mind was a muddled confusion of bizarre dreams, and she struggled to distinguish fantasy from reality. Trying desperately to remember what had happened, she examined her surroundings the best she could, completely shocked to discover she was in a cave.

  The rock was unlike any she’d ever seen; thin white veins streaked its warm caramel color and shimmered incandescently in the subdued light. With enough room for someone about three heads taller than herself to stand, and not much wider, the space was rather small—cozy even. A stark contrast to the luxurious and rather ostentatiousness of her family’s castle, the intimate simplicity of the chamber was a welcome change.

  A soft delicate humming resounded within the cave. She turned her head towards the refined voice to see an elf kneeling beside the fire. His rich dark-brown hair fell elegantly to his shoulders, a becoming contrast to his light olive skin glowing in the firelight. He was clad in the garb of his people, and his emerald green shirt stood out brilliantly against the dark brown leather of both his trousers and sleeveless tunic. He casually tucked a section of hair behind his pointed ear, exposing his unobtrusive, yet handsome, features from beneath the shadows. She watched intently as he tossed a handful of dried herbs into a small pot. Apparently unaware she was awake, he continued to hum to himself while carefully stirring the mixture.

  The tantalizing aromatic smell of the broth permeated the cave. Irewen’s stomach growled from hunger. Her mouth watered in anticipation of the warm liquid rushing down her throat. She attempted to raise herself in order to get a better view. Large black spots instantly clouded her vision. The room began to spin. Trying to fight off the dizziness, Irewen moaned softly.

  “Let me help!” the elf exclaimed, rushing to her side. Taking her in his arms, he helped her ease back onto the soft bedding. “It is good to see you awake, but you must not try to move on your own for a couple more days. It will take some time for you to regain your strength.”

  Nodding her understanding, she took a deep breath and waited for the dizziness to pass. “Thank you.”

  The elf covered her with his dark blue cloak. “There is no need to thank me.”

  She turned her head to meet his gaze and gasped in surprise. “Prince Laegon?”

  “Aye, Princess Irewen,” he replied with a delicate smile. “I am surprised you remember me. It has been ten years since I last had the honor of your company. Regretfully, we are not able to meet under better circumstances.”

  “Where are we, Laegon? What has happened?”

  “We are in Dremond’s Cave in southeastern Mistwood. My Guardian and I found you about three miles west of here. Whatever your original reason for traveling in these lands, I cannot say.”

  “Found me? Was I injured?”

  The faint traces of his smile quickly vanished as an unwavering mask of gravity settled on Laegon’s face.

  “You had been attacked while attempting to flee, your back pierced by two arrows. Brégen discovered your body not far from the corpses of four men. We can only assume they were intended to serve as your escort. Thankfully, you were wearing a leather chest-piece beneath your tunic. Otherwise you would have died instantly. The arrows did not penetrate deeply, but one of the heads contained poison. If the spread of the toxin had not been slowed because of your prolonged exposure to the extreme cold, you would have been beyond my aid. My Sight is strong, but even that was not enough to heal you fully. I cured the poison and closed your wounds, but you still hovered near death. There was a terrifying moment when I thoug
ht I had lost you. I honestly do not know how you survived.”

  The flood of lost memories devoured Irewen’s mind. She was unable to conceal the agony in her eyes as she relived every single abominable moment since her father’s murder. Consumed by the horrors, her body shook violently.

  Laegon’s brow furrowed with concern. “What is wrong?” he asked, gently touching her shoulder. “Are you cold?”

  She shook her head when her body finally relaxed. “I am fine, Laegon, thank you. I was simply remembering.”

  Laegon nodded his understanding. Remaining quietly by her side, he offered what little companionship he could. The torment in her eyes reflected memories that would haunt her for the rest of her days. She would share her experiences with him when she was ready. Until then, he would remain with her and provide the safety and protection she needed.

  “How long have we been here?” she asked after a time. She was grateful he hadn’t pressed her to discuss her troubles. It was too soon to speak of her father’s murder or her cousin’s disloyalty.

  Laegon returned to the fire. “We sought refuge here three days ago,” he said quietly, his downcast eyes betraying his shame. “You are fortunate that Brégen’s memory of elven lore is superior to mine. I had forgotten this place existed.”

  He gazed reflectively into distant memories and forgotten times. Stoically tending the pot, he slowly retreated into a world of his own.

  She watched Laegon quizzically, wondering the reason for his sudden pensiveness before finally looking away.

  An invisible barrier seemed to descend between them, shielding Laegon from her prying eyes and unspoken questions.

  Long moments passed in an uncomfortable silence before Laegon carefully removed the limp herbs from the pot and poured the broth into a small wooden bowl. Returning to her, he gingerly lifted her head. Holding the bowl to her lips, he allowed her to take only a sip of the steaming liquid. Ignoring her groan of protest when he pulled away, he set the bowl on the ground.

  “You must not consume too much at once,” he chided, “even something as light as an herbed broth. I held a wet cloth to your lips, letting small amounts trickle down your throat. But you have been three days without solid food. It will take you quite a while to regain your strength.”

  “How long until I am fully recovered?” she asked nervously, her haunted expression exposing her fear.

  Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, Laegon studied her intently.

  She averted her eyes, avoiding his penetrating stare. “I cannot return to Dargon—at least not for a time.”

  Laegon offered her another sip of the broth. “This cave is well protected, my lady,” he reassured her, ashamed his reaction had pressured her into providing an explanation for her anxiety. “You are safe here. Do not concern yourself with the future. It will be quite some time before you are strong enough to travel anywhere. Right now, you simply need to focus on regaining your strength.”

  Irewen was somewhat surprised by the tenderness in his voice. She looked into his eyes and found their unmistakable compassion drawing her into him. Without uttering a word, he provided her with a profound and comforting warmth. She suddenly realized how desperately she needed a friend. She longed to tell him everything, shedding her grief without shame as he held her in his arms, but she couldn’t. She would never know the blessings of friendship.

  Her crystal blue eyes glistened with tears. “I am sorry, Laegon. I cannot...”

  “I know, Irewen,” he said quietly, once again retreating behind the intangible wall he raised between them. “And I will never ask. Get some sleep. You have exerted more energy than you realize.”

  Surprised to find his words were true, Irewen closed her eyes and drifted into a troubled sleep. She dreamt not of what she had lost, but of what she could never have.

  Laegon stood outside the entrance to the cave. Ignoring the bitterness of the night air, he gazed into the shadows. With Irewen asleep and Brégen on his way to Silverden, Laegon was alone, save for the frustrating company of his thoughts. He took advantage of the opportunity to ponder on what had transpired between himself and Irewen earlier that evening.

  For the past three days he had watched her struggle against an unknown demon, unable to do anything to ease her pain. Despite himself, he’d become fond of her. A part of him hoped that in time she would feel the same. He’d known it would be difficult for her to confide in him, but her silence wasn’t simply a reluctance to speak of unwanted memories. He saw the longing in her eyes and sensed her desperate need for companionship. He knew she yearned to speak of her troubles, but something had forced her to keep her silence.

  He shook his head in self-reproach. I know very well why she will never seek my friendship. I am an elf. «I was foolish to think she would ever consider opening her heart to me.»

  Unaware he’d portrayed his last thought with Míendvel, Laegon started when Brégen’s deep voiced boomed in his mind.

  «Do not be so hard on yourself, Laegon, and do not pass judgment on Irewen so hastily. You do not know the terrors she has experienced and cannot begin to fathom her reasons for remaining silent. Give the poor woman time to come to terms with all that has transpired. She knows you are willing to listen. She will confide in you when she is ready.»

  «You are right as always, Brégen,» Laegon admitted. «Still, perhaps it is better if she never opens her heart to me. You know why personal relationships between our races are avoided. No one can miss something they never had.»

  «It is better to face whatever hardships may arise than to spend the remainder of your long years regretting what might have been,» Brégen reminded him.

  «I have never known another’s love,» Laegon responded after a time. «I have never shared a kiss or experienced a lover’s embrace.»

  «Love is a rare and precious thing, Laegon. Perhaps Irewen is the one for you, and perhaps she is not. It is not for me to decide. Either way, do not cast love aside when it arises. You will never forgive yourself if you do.»

  «Thank you, Brégen. You have been most helpful.»

  «That is what Guardians are for,» Brégen replied lightheartedly.

  «Aye,» Laegon smiled, his brown eyes sparkling jovially in the moonlight. «Indeed it is. How are things faring with you?»

  «Very well. I arrived in Silverden earlier this evening with your wretched horse in tow.»

  «Impressive. I see you can move quickly when you put your mind to it.»

  «I have given your message to Lord Brandir,» Brégen continued, ignoring the elf’s comment. «He agreed the princess should not travel in this weather until she has recovered. A rider will be sent first thing tomorrow morning to provide you with the supplies you requested. You should expect to see Perendin within five days’ time. Your father asked me to tell you he is offering Princess Irewen the full protection of the elves. Once she is well enough to travel, she will be welcome to stay in Silverden for as long as she may need. Whatever the reasons for the attack, it is clear she may not be able to return to Dargon for quite some time.»

  Laegon’s reply was grave. «Aye, she told me as much earlier. Please give father my thanks and tell him I will inform Irewen of his kind and generous offer as soon as she wakes.»

  «Of course, Laegon. In the matters of defense, your father has heeded your advice. Reinforcements are preparing to dispatch to the watchtowers. A squadron of Protectors and their Guardians will be sent to secure and patrol the southern border.»

  «That is good news. Have you decided to remain in Silverden?»

  «No,» Brégen answered. «I will return to you and the princess. But first, I will take some time to rest.»

  «Weakling.»

  This time, the Guardian was incapable of ignoring his Protector’s remark. «The next time we find an unconscious princess in the snow, I’ll stay with her, and you can make a five day journey in three.»

  Laegon smiled to himself. «I figured that would get your whiskers in a twist.»

&n
bsp; Brégen grunted haughtily. «Because I am such a wonderful and kind-hearted individual, I will forgive you for your insolence.»

  «I cannot tell you with what bliss that fills me,» Laegon answered sarcastically. «When will you leave Silverden?»

  «I will be setting out for Dremond’s Cave in a couple of days,» Brégen informed the prince, «and I will not be coming alone.»

  «Oh? May I inquire as to who your companion will be?»

  «You may. But you will not be provided with an answer. We will see you in a few days.»

  «I will await your arrival with bated breath,» Laegon teased. «Have a safe journey.»

  «Whatever is on your mind, I am only a thought away. Never forget that, Laegon.»

  «I will not. Thank you.»

  «Be sure to get some rest. Even without seeing you in person, I can tell that you look absolutely dreadful.»

  Laegon grinned, thankful for Brégen’s remarkable ability to lighten even the most dismal situation with his playful humor. «Goodnight, my friend.»

  •••

  Irewen watched Laegon intently. He stood outside the cave’s entrance, his tall, lean figure silhouetted by the soft moonlight. She marveled at his apparent imperviousness to the cold. He’d covered her with both his cloak and blanket, and now wore only his woolen shirt and thin leather tunic and trousers for protection against the frigid air. A lone figure in the wilderness, he looked both powerful, yet weak. Proud, yet ashamed. Pleasantly happy, yet tormented by despair.

  She pictured his radiant eyes reaching out to her, begging her to ease his loneliness, and remembered his look of utter disappointment when she had not answered. For his sake, as well as her own, she had wanted to open her heart to him. She had yearned for his compassion and friendship, yet it was those same longings that had forced her to keep her silence. Though she didn’t know the motives for her cousin’s betrayal, she did know that as long as she remained alive, she would be seen as a threat.

  Elthad wanted her dead. Should he discover his assassins failed, he would stop at nothing to find her. Everyone who had given her their aid would be in danger. She was now a fugitive. There was nowhere she could call home, nowhere she could seek refuge. Though it tore at her heart to turn him away, she knew she could never seek Laegon’s friendship. By saving her life, he had already risked too much.