THE CHAINED GIFT XXV: Death

PART FOUR

XXV: Death

Dervharn. The city of the Forest of the Ancient Race. More than a city, a name bestowed by the Silvan elves to the extension of huge and leafy trees among which they had decided to dwell.

Dervharn was a city of weavers. And as such, it had the structure and charm of a great loom: dozens and dozens of buildings, platforms and domes of thin but strong wood, laid out around the trees, on their tops, around their feet... with miles of footbridges, sometimes long and elegant, sometimes light and concealed among the branches that served to connect them, crossing each other like warp and weft. The buildings were of every kind, artistic and intricate, simple and functional, but so similar in size and layout that it was impossible to determine the rank and class of their inhabitants, if they paid attention to those matters at all. They imitated the shapes of the trees around which they had been erected, sometimes with such mastery that they seemed a quirk the goddess herself had made grow.

In the middle of the loom there was a small clearing used as a gathering place, where an elven-made pool built of grey, musky stones, was always full of crystalline river water. At night it reflected the moon, and the elves would take a break on their way to devote a prayer to the goddess.

To the South, East and West, the sides of the loom merged into the vegetation, but to the North a mountain range served as a natural border. Many elves used to walk discreetly towards the foot of the mountain along paths only known by the clan members.

Dervharn was beautiful, as a forest can be, and so subtly integrated into it that it had become one with nature. How can something like that be called a city? The Silvans didn't do it: it was simply Dervharn, and they weren't citizens, yet some other creatures that lived in the thick grove. Sometimes it was hard to make them out, when they gracefully moved along the footbridges in their green clothes, or hid to stand guard among the branches or on the observation platforms. In other occasions they stood out like rare exotic birds wearing colourful outfits, specially during the holidays.

No celebration was held those days, so the only elf at sight was Caradhar. He was sitting in a room in front of the tall, stylised window besides the door of one of those dwellings. The building stood around the foot of a huge tree with green and silver leaves. Circular-shaped, two-storey, it was the strangest house the young elf had ever seen. The room were he was served as a living-room, and the adjacent one seemed to be a kitchen, yet pristine due to lack of use. There was a tiny room as well with a big wooden tub, but the gifted wasn't sure if it was for bathing or washing clothes. Upstairs there was a bedroom with finely carved wooded furniture, shelves with books and scrolls and a desk. Everything was strange for him, and beautiful, even if fairly simple compared to the ostentatious Argailias. Not that he cared much: despite there was a table and chairs, he had chosen to sit down on the floor, on a cushion. They had prepared a huge tray with fruits and seeds for him, and a jug of water, but he wasn't even hungry.

It had taken them three days to ride there. It was surprising to think that only three days away from the biggest elven city there was a place unknown to his people, and so it had been for hundreds of years... Nobody ventured through the mace the Forest of the Ancient Race was, and if anyone dared to do it, they'd be unable to find its hidden roads. They'd had to go out again, disconcerted, or never do it at all. The Dervharn clan took good care of it, and its best ally was the forest itself. Caradhar would had been unable to retrace the steps that had guided them there, and had felt impressed when they had dismounted and the first constructions had appeared in front of his eyes. But he was tired and taciturn, unsatisfied with the idea of having to talk to anyone at that moment.

And curiously Ulmeh had taken him to that house and left him alone. In peace. The gifted hadn't expected that welcome, but was feeling grateful.

It was so strange... He remember upon leaving Argailias he had felt extraordinarily furious and disappointed. He wasn't able to believe Sül had prepared the death of someone who had saved his life... such a sickly eagerness to possess him? Even that night in their refuge of the Ditch, when he had taken him in a way far too similar to Darial's, he had been able to accept it; but that...

And still, after leaving the town he was visibly more calmed down. And the days spent on the road had cooled down his temper completely. He wasn't furious any more, but still disappointed, as he had never been since he had met the Shadow. He wished to be alone as those years he had shut himself away in Therendanar. He doubted things would be as easy as they had been then, but the start was promising.

A quiet creaking attracted his attention. Two elven children's little heads shyly appeared through the window, a tall and slim boy and a smaller girl. They both looked at him with curiosity, specially the girl, whose pink lips were opened in admiration. But after an instant admiration turned into surprise, and the elven girl whispered some words to her companion, in a language unknown to the gifted, and they both disappeared from view.

The weren't the only ones. More kids spied through the window, either shamelessly leaning on the windowsill or from a safe distance. Caradhar was starting to feel annoyed, although also amazed at the number of children that seemed to live there: one would never see that many in Argailias. And they all looked at him with curiosity, enough with admiration, and in the end with a certain fear. He could hear more times those words the first elven girl had pronounced. When he grew tired of being the show of the day he stood up and closed the shutters, and then returned to his position on the floor, only that this time he lay on his back and fell asleep.

He was woken up by the sound of knocking on the door. Then he sat up, still a bit drowsy, and saw it opening and letting the morning sun in. He had slept part of the evening and the whole night. After the light an elf entered: Vira...

But no, he wasn't Vira. He wasn't that tall, and his build was definitely lighter. He was wearing a simple grey robe, and it would have been difficult to image that cheeky elf he had met in Argailias in such discreet clothes. But his face, his long hair, hanging down his back, his eyes... were so similar that it'd be too easy to mistake them. Yet the expression of his visage was very different, calm and reassuring, and his smile was gentle.

Same as the gifted studied the newcomer, the latter studied him, but in contrast to the kids his countenance remained serene and pleased. He was carrying a big basket that was left on the floor; remembering his good manners, the Silvan bowed his head.

'You can't imagine how pleased I am to meet you at last,' he said in Argailian language, his accent more marked than the other elves' one. 'Judging by your face I see I remind you of someone: My name is Lioges, and Vira is my younger brother. I'm at your service and I offer you my apologises for any inconvenience my brother may have said or done. And no doubt he has...' His smile became wider. 'I decided to let you rest, but you must be hungry now. If you come with me, I'll serve you breakfast.'

Picking the basket he walked to the kitchen. Caradhar followed him, puzzled, but his stomach was certainly empty. The Silvan called Lioges pointed to a chair for him to sit and prepared the food he had brought in the basket: milk, bread, honey, fruits and an excellent-looking pie. He himself had taken care of it, since he knew it would be its appearance and not its flavour what would tempt the gifted to eat it... He sat in front of him and willingly shared the food, apparently undisturbed by the silence. In fact he seemed quite satisfied just with watching his red-haired companion and didn't avoid the intense look of his red eyes.

'I guess you have some questions,' he said once they were both satisfied, 'although I have one myself: do you use to sleep on the floor? My bed is not fit for a prince but is much more comfortable.'

'Your bed?'

'This is my house... now and again. Most of the time I stay at the library bedrooms. We thought you'd want some privacy, and since I'm going to be your guide through these days it seemed the right thing to offer it to you, until you decide if you want a better place to live. I am sorry if it's too plain: I don't come often and I don't need much. I don't own many books in your language but they are at your disposal and I can help you with the rest.'

'I don't need more either, thanks...' Caradhar kept staring at him. 'So you're Vira's brother... You are very similar, but at the same time...'

'... We aren't alike at all: I know. We walked very different paths. Except for one thing: I also followed attentively their progress through the years, although not in Argailias, as my duties held me here. I thank the gods since they found you, and my gratitude is much deeper for having you here... Even if more distant, I am also your relative, and blood bonds are important in our culture. I don't pretend this will carry any weight in your opinion about me, about us: I rather have our actions speak for themselves and that we get to inspire you trust.'

'Are you... how do you call it... a weaver?'

'Yes.'

'Also a telepath?'

'Barely; I am an empathic, same as Vira, except that he neglected the development of those talents and focused on combat ones. But my speciality, that holds me here, is something else: I am a healer. As your... your grandmother was.' He smiled. 'As you are.'

'And what's the difference of healing by magical means?'

'That I don't have to spill my blood. But I must remain conscious to use it, so your Gift has its own advantages.'

Before Lioges could react, they gifted grabbed a knife and wounded his left hand. The cut closed instantly, and that crossed Caradhar: it was never that fast... He repeated the operation, this time concentrating intensely to prevent the wound from healing, and offered his arm to his companion with curiosity. The Silvan stared at him seriously but stretched his own arm and placed his hand on the cut, without touching it. Caradhar experienced a soft tickling sensation and watched his wound quickly closing... The healer held his hand this time, took a clean cloth and wiped the restored skin. The gifted looked at him, his half-opened lips betraying his surprise in front of an ability he had never seen before: he hadn't even had to touch him to...

'I'd rather you not to do that... I don't like to see you needlessly hurt.'

'I did it hundreds of times, it isn't important. I just wanted to see...'

'Yes, it is. You already suffered enough pain in your life. I promise I will show you properly how my talent works, as soon as I can, but not like this.' His tone became more cheerful when he asked: 'What about a walk? You don't have to meet anyone yet if you don't feel like it. I'll just show you the place, and I think you'll like it. But before that you can take a hot bath and change your clothes, I'll wait upstairs.'

So the tub was for his own use... Caradhar had his first decent bath in days, wore those fine light green clothes and rejoined his guide.

It was then when he started to become familiar with Dervharn, with its strange wooden houses, its endless footbridges. The tops of the trees filtered the light and the effect of light and shadow was really charming, almost unreal. The elves were discreet and respectful, although curious looks at the stranger of mixed blood and hair like fire were unavoidable... And again the children, dozens of them. The gifted found himself again under the examination of numerous small eyes.

'Lioges, what's the meaning of...' he tried to remember, ''carhovall nasharah, iexu desharah'?'

'Where did you hear that?' The Silvan looked at him slightly frowning.

'Children were repeating it. I guess it's something about me.'

'Something unimportant, kid's stuff. Come, I'll show you the library. There you'll be able to read everything you want about our history and the Loom, and the librarians also speak Argailian language.'

The library building was impressive indeed: the only one that stood out among the rest, in fact, because it was a gigantic spiral surrounding a huge several-hundred-year-old tree. The ground floor lodged simple bedrooms, as Lioges had said, but as they climbed up and up he found more and more floors full of carved wood shelves with hundreds of books and scrolls neatly piled. And all of them contained a knowledge long time lost in his city...

A female elf approached Lioges and whispered something. The Silvan apologised as he had to take care of a broken leg, and Caradhar followed him, eager to see more of that magic in action. He had the chance to see a young kid's bones aligning themselves, and his wounds healing... It was amazing.

While the healer pampered the kid, the gifted noticed one of the librarians looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and respect. He greeted him with a bow and the elf imitated him after several seconds, agitated with the sudden attention he had got from that city stranger.

'Do you speak my language?' The elf nodded. 'Could you translate something for me?'

The young elf repeated what he had heard. The librarian seemed too confused to talk but in the end he managed to say, swallowing:

'Fire outside, ice inside.'

Since Lioges was coming back right then he could hear the last sentence and receive the redhead's blank stare. He composed an unconcerned smile but while they were leaving he himself pierced the librarian with a look that wasn't kind at all.

There was a full moon that night. Lioges guided the gifted towards the pool in the clearing and showed him the white and round reflection on the surface of the water. It looked like a mirror that had captured an exact copy of the heavenly body and had locked it up inside its cold and unreachable depth. The healer whispered a prayer to the goddess; Caradhar had never been very devout so he made do with watching the inspiring image. That light in the middle of the dark brought to his mind a special day, a day that seemed so distant... Him, on top of a tower, before the lit dome of the Palace of the Forty-nine Moons... darkness... water, although it had been rain that day... He unconsciously reached out and submerged his fingertips, as if he were really trying to touch the bright circle. The silky surface trembled...

Lioges peeped at his companion that, lips apart, seemed to be absorbed in staring at the silvery reflection. He wondered what he could be thinking about right then. He knew it had to be something enjoyable because a pleasant feeling had settled in his mind, a feeling that wasn't there before... a feeling that lit his beautiful features up in such a way that he didn't need to be empathic to perceive it. But it disappeared very fast: the red gaze again became as cold as that water and the gifted closed his lips at once while he wiped his wet fingers dry. He said he was tired and Lioges walked him back home.

'...But nobody could explain why alchemy turned to be like a poison, able to kill magic. It might be, some wise people said, because magic is a gift from the gods; and gods expect great zeal for every gift they graciously bestow...'

Caradhar stopped reading and leaned his head against the frame of the window in front of which he was sitting down. He had climbed up to one of the library top floors and the view from there was amazing: a green sea of tree crowns spread out under his eyes. The summer had arrived and the light was so bright up there that it had to be attenuated with thin curtains.

With the help of Lioges, one of the librarians and a treatise on Argailian and Silvan languages the gifted had started to read some books. It was almost like one of those legends he had heard in House Llia'res laboratory as a child: the origin of weavers, the alchemists', the Great Blasphemy... He would have never believed those stories, hadn't he seen it with his own eyes. Weavers didn't use their talents needlessly but Lioges had taken care of showing him the young elves' training, and he had watched, marvelled, how telepaths, illusionists, healers, telekinetics... used their abilities. Combat magic wasn't as widely used and there was more secrecy about it, so Caradhar didn't have many chances to see it in action. Curiously he didn't find anyone that would use it as Vira, and Lioges commented his brother was unique in several ways and then sighed. The gifted didn't make up his mind to ask what he meant with that.

He met Father, the elf that had been in charge of everything related to the search for Neharall in Argailias. He was his grandmother's close relative and had earned that name thanks to his position as a protective figure in the clan. He was certainly full of satisfaction with the gifted's return to his roots, as he called it. The fact that Dainhaya wasn't back as well seemed to have darkened his happiness a bit, as he considered it was his responsibility to soothe her fiancé's irritation, since he had spent the last years waiting for her... However, he never said a word about Vira.

He used to come often to talk to Lioges, and although they did it in their own language the redhead knew he himself was the main topic of their conversations. Father seemed to be impatient, and Lioges answered in turn with even more impatience. That was strange for the gifted, because he had never met an elf more self-restrained than him.

The healer had become his mentor apart from his guide, in a subtle and modest way. He barely revealed details about himself, despite being an obvious pillar of the community. The young elf felt a certain curiosity but never gathered enough strength to make questions.

A puff of air moved the curtain, slightly brushing Caradhar's cheek. That interrupted his deep thoughts and made him resume his reading. Unfortunately the thin fabric kept playing tricks and coming between him and the pages of the book. It was weird... not even a leaf was moving outside. The gifted decided to ignore the slight trouble and focus on his task, but it became impossible when that fabric completely wrapped his face... He dropped the book, and a giggle drew his attention as he pulled the curtain away from his face.

A female elf was looking at him from behind the shelf full of books that hid him from view. She was petite and beautiful, like Dainhaya, yet not only her eyes but also her hair had her clan's distinctive wine-coloured mark. She also looked younger, specially in those male clothes she was wearing, and definitely more cheerful. Caradhar stared at her with slight annoyance.

'Are you the one causing this?'

'Yes, to see if I could make you smile... but I failed miserably!' she said, pulling a face of pretended frustration. 'What's the use of such a handsome face if it moves as much as an oak bark...?'

'No use, I suppose... Go watch oak barks then. At least those won't be bothered,' he replied, picking the book again.

'Oh, come on...!' She put her hands on her hips. 'If any elf around received a compliment from a girl, he would get down on his knees and bless his luck...'

'And then why do you waste your compliments on me?'

'Because the others aren't a gifted from outside the forest, of course,' she said with frankness. 'I was dying to have a close look at you... Your name is Caradhar, yes?' He didn't answer, but that didn't seem to daunt her either. 'Mine is Mirtuillë. What are you reading?'

The young female walked towards him and shamelessly lifted the cover of the book he was holding in his hands. The gifted raised his eyebrows.

' 'About the Origin of Alchemy'? Venerable goddess, didn't you find a more tedious book? I doubt it!' As he still didn't answer, she snorted. 'Oh come on... now you and your book perfectly match each other. Why don't you leave that and tell me things about Argailias? I never had the chance to go, although I'd had loved it... please?'

The book was lifted in mid-air from the redhead's hands and it landed noisily besides him. He followed its movement and then cast a cold look on the young female. But she kept smiling, unabashed, and approached him even more.

'Did you start to weave? Father says you...'

'Mirtuillë...'

Both young elves turned to Lioges, who stared at her reprovingly. She snorted again.

'Lio, you're a nuisance. I was getting to know Caradhar better. Sooner or later I'll have him surrendering and talking, even if just by sheer boredom...'

'Mirtuillë, it's you the one behaving inappropriately, talking about things you don't...'

'Is that what's expected from me?' interrupted Caradhar. 'Using magic?' I already told your companions that I don't have any talent...'

'Oh but you have,' she stated vehemently. 'You're like an uncontrolled version of Vira. If you wanted...'

'Mirtuillë, that's enough,' settled a very serious Lioges. 'Stop behaving like a little girl. And speaking about that, I just saw your teacher downstairs and he told me he has spend the last two hours looking for you. Your mother asked me that if I ever saw you skipping your classes...'

'All right, all right... Bah... why can't you be like your brother?' she grouched. 'He does know how to deal with a girl, which is very funny, keeping in mind he...'

The female elf shut up at once under the healer's gaze. She shrugged and turned to the gifted.

'Well, we will continue in another occasion... when My Lord Killjoy isn't around and I grow tired of looking at oak barks. See you soon, Caradhar... Bye, My Lord Killjoy...'

The girl vanished downstairs. Lioges smiled apologetically.

'The young elves from Dervharn are much more... flamboyant than the ones you're used to, I suppose... Listen, Caradhar, you mustn't think they expect anything from you, you...'

'Everybody always expected something from me, Lioges,' interrupted the gifted with cold voice. 'I know your mean well, but you can spare me the conciliatory words. And I repeat I am not like your people: I am not a weaver.'

Lioges stared at him. He seemed to be weighing up something.

'Our clan guide wishes to know you, if you agree with it, and there is something he wants you to see. Even if it's an uncomfortable, several days long trip, I think you won't regret it. Do you accept me to take you there?'

Caradhar nodded, not very enthusiastic. Lioges appeared to be satisfied, yet worried: the young elf seemed to be fading away little by little... and the healer suspected that the indirect cause was right that thing he was declaring not to possess: raw, unwoven magic running through his veins.

Several days later the gifted started his journey, guided by Lioges. They rode to the mountains North of Dervharn, but once at their feet they had to leave the horses and continue by foot. The route, as the healer explained, ran along caverns under the very mountains. It had been fit up and lit through the years, but the lack of fresh air and natural light could be suffocating.

It wasn't so for the redhead, after so many years living in Therendanar. His body, if not his mood, felt strangely fine inside those corridors carved in the stone. He wondered what had pushed the leader of a community of tree dwellers to bury himself under tons of rocks... Probably he would be able to ask him personally soon enough. Lioges' behaviour had changed notoriously, as he was showing a continuous interest in the gifted's well-being. Caradhar had caught him two or three times staring at him, when he thought he wouldn't notice it.

The found some guards along the path, although they never stopped them. They seemed to know it was the healer even before they could actually see him; it might be that way... In every occasion the looks were directed towards the gifted. Caradhar felt dizzy every time one of those Silvans studied him: his head buzzed as if those strangers' eyes were drilling him all the way inside his skull... Most of the time he could read in their faces, or so he believed, curiosity, admiration, disconcert... but the gifted had never been good reading emotions, and the new sensation was proving to be mentally exhausting.

The corridor came out finally into a wide cavern full of lights that almost blinded the young elf. There were more Silvans around; more, in fact, than he had expected to find. They greeted them with deference, and one of them guided them to a place where they could freshen up. The truth was that, at that point, the gifted wasn't feeling fine at all: his body was ebullient but his head seemed about to explode, for the buzzing had become a hive of furious bees. He leaned against a rock wall, gasping, trying to find a breathing pace that would allow him to relax.

Lioges reacted promptly: holding the young elf's temples and forcing him to look him in the eye, he started to whisper soothing words... Caradhar wasn't sure any more if those words were coming out of his lips or echoing straight inside his mind, but the fact is that they worked as a sedative, as a pair of hands that covered his ears, as a piece of cotton carefully wrapping his thoughts and isolating them from that deafening roar.

'Lioges... what have you done to me? What... what's happening to me?' The elf was shaking. The healer rested his forehead against his and moved some red locks away.

'Hush... everything's fine now... It's this place, Caradhar... Here, magic flows mightier than anywhere else. Your body knows it and your head tries to channel the energy you possess, but doesn't know how to do it.'

'I don't like it... it's as if something was trying to get out...'

'Calm down...My telepathic abilities are poor, but I can help you to shield your mind so that nothing tries to get in or out. Keep yourself close to me, I'll take you to our guide.

Reluctantly, Lioges moved away from his young companion. The caverns also affected him, as if his own raw magic accumulated so fast that his body couldn't cope with weaving it. But Caradhar was like a vessel able to contain all that excess, and the healer's energy was being spilled to build a cocoon that protected the gifted from his own overflowing, bringing peace to both. It wasn't easy to come unstuck from him.

He guided the elf through the tunnels. Caradhar observed small streams of ground water flowing here and there, with a curious pink colour. But as they advanced, they colour became more and more intense, until...

The gifted held his breath. The most impressive cavern appeared before his eyes, sparkling under the light of hundreds of torches. There was a pool in the centre, probably fed by an aquifer, and it was the most intense wine colour he could ever imagine. It was like peering into a giant version of his companion's eyes. Spread across its bottom, the edges and the walls there were translucent rocks of the same colour, that endowed the cavern with that amazing glittering; in the centre of the pool, sticking out of the water, there was another of those rocks, a huge one; and kneeling besides it, an elf. Only his brown hair and dark green clothes were visible from there, but upon noticing their presence he stood up and turned around, motioning for them to approach him.

'Don't be afraid,' said Lioges. 'It isn't very deep, and it's a blessing to walk into the water.'

And saying this he took out his boots and walked towards the other elf, up to his knees in water. Caradhar imitated him.

That stranger slightly patted Lioges' shoulder and then faced the younger elf, and his eyes of the same colour as his surroundings looked at the gifted as if they could go through him, deep into his very core. He stretched his arms and gently placed his hands on the redhead's shoulders, drawing him to himself.

'It isn't my desire to overwhelm you, young Caradhar, but I have spent long years waiting to meet you, since before I even knew of your existence, and I am so happy of seeing the wish of my heart fulfilled. My name is Savhran, and Dervharn honours me with calling me its guide, although I am but one among many. I know nothing in your life prepared you to recognise your position in the Loom, and you may not be ready, but I have something to show you.' The elf rested his hand, with great veneration, on the huge translucent rock. 'Behold, Caradhar, the source of all magic, as it was offered to us by the gods in times that nobody recalls.'

The gifted observed the rock, and something caught his attention, pushing him to get closer. He bent down, so that his eyes almost brushed the cold mineral... and released a stifled cry.

Lying down inside the rock there was a girl's nude body. He couldn't tell if she was elf or human, since she possessed traits of both species, but she was beautiful, and her serene face displayed a peaceful expression. She seemed asleep, frozen inside an enormous piece of wine-coloured ice...

'Is she... is she dead?' asked Caradhar, captivated by the vision.

'Nobody know much, my son. Except that she has been here since before our arrival, placed there by the gods for reasons known by them only. She's the one dyeing the water, marking some of us with the colour of her magic, conferring us her talents. She spent a long time in silence, drowned by the poison of alchemy, but once she was able to wash its corruption she started to sing in our blood once more. And she isn't the only one: we know there are other rocks like this one watched over in faraway places. But this is our sanctuary, Caradhar, what we protect, and what protects us. And to you as well.'

The gifted couldn't stop looking inside the transparent sarcophagus, to that being trapped like an insect in amber. Dead, but alive at the same time... A gift from the gods? A goddess herself? One of the spirits that serve them? The Silvan scholars hadn't been able to discover it in hundreds of years... how could he? But there she was, and in her presence he felt his blood flowing inside his veins in a different way, as if it wanted to escape from them, as if the cocoon woven by Lioges around him needed more and more layers to be able to hold everything that was inside of him.

The guide looked at their backs and smiled. Caradhar turned around: a young female elf had appeared from one of the tunnels that led to that place and was looking at them from outside the water.

'She's my daughter. She comes to keep watch with me while her mother is away,' said Savhran. 'Dear daughter, come...'

And then it appeared. Probably from the same tunnel as her, because it was at her back: an abomination. Caradhar panicked and shouted at the female elf to move away; his eyes searched for Sül... but the Shadow wasn't there. He couldn't be... Then he reached for his dagger, and was about to jump when Lioges held his arm. He seemed to be calmed, and part of that serenity was spilled inside of him. Why...?

The abomination walked close to the young female, growling quietly. She looked at it, not showing any reaction, her lips curved into a smile. The creature walked past her towards the water, sank its jaws into the water and drank, very docile...

The gifted was rooted to the spot. Lioges took the dagger out of his hand and put it back into its sheath, without making any comment.

'But..' stuttered the redhead, 'why won't it attack us?'

'Why should they, Caradhar? You know what they are, what created them. They are beings with the talent, tortured and corrupted by alchemy a long time ago. This place attracts them, calms them down, reconciles them to what they once were. Do you know where we are? In the entrails of Ummankor.'

The entrails of Ummankor... The source of magic was in that cursed place coveted by alchemist, over which elves and humans were fighting. The abominations didn't gather there to hide, but to try to soothe their suffering. And alchemy had been feeding, through hundreds of years, on the energy it had tried to destroy...

'And why... why do they attack the elves of the surface? Why did they attack me?'

'They don't attack out of pleasure: they defend their home from invaders. As for that, are you sure they attacked you? Did they harm you at all, Caradhar?'

'No... truth be told... it tried to pull from me. I thought it was trying to drag me to its lair...'

'They smelled our blood; they just tried to carry you with your own people,' said Savhran, smiling. 'There is nothing to fear.'

The creature turned its milky eyes to the group of elves standing in the centre of the pool and headed towards them. When it reached the guide, the elf stroke it gently. Then the abomination sniffed Lioges and stared at Caradhar. The gifted stiffened as he watched it getting close: he had already had a close look of one and the memory wasn't pleasant... His people had always feared them, and now...

The healer placed a protective hand on the younger elf's shoulder but didn't move. The abomination sniffed the redhead: that seemed to be a new smell for it. But once it was done and satisfied it buried its snout against his leg and lay at his feet. The young elf didn't dare to move a muscle. That being finally stood up and returned to where it had come from.

'You feel the energy, don't you?' asked Lioges. 'I can't stop weaving to contain your overflowing. Anywhere else is stronger than here. Let me show you another thing... but you'll have to trust me.'

The healer took one of the torches, pulled the gifted's sleeve up to release his forearm and moved the fire close to his hand.

'Bring your hand here, don't be afraid.'

Caradhar stared at him, frowning, but did as he asked. He noticed the heat of the fire bathing his skin, more and more intense. The elf moved the torch closer; at that point she should be feeling some pain already... Then he realised flames were licking his fingers, and the elf watched, hypnotised, the orange veil surrounding his skin without burning it. Now his hand was inside the heart of the fire. He didn't feel pain but an intense tingling, as the one running along his body every time his wounds were closing, except that it was one hundred, one thousand times stronger... As if his skin were fixing the damage at the same time it was receiving it, as if it did even before receiving it...

(Lioges, sounded the guide's voice in his mind, why can't he start weaving?)

(Did you look inside him, Savhran? He must be a telepath, or an empathic, or both. If he had any other type of talent I am sure he'd have already let it flow, but right those...)

(He doesn't possess any empathy... He can't naturally connect with people's feelings. Without that connection it's impossible for him to channel his energy. Just being here is painful for him.)

(Indeed. It strives to get out but can't find a door. I must do my best to isolate him from the other minds.)

(Can't you do anything? You say he doesn't have any sense of smell, right? Smell is important: it unconsciously draws us close to the others, to an intimate and basic level that only animals are able to use in its full value, but on which we depend as well. Maybe, if you could restore that part...)

(That goes beyond my abilities. He's physically healthy, as he's a gifted, after all. To heal something that is inside his head we can only rely on your wife's talent.)

(And she's away and still will need some time to come back...)

(I'll take care of him until she does, Savhran. I just hope he doesn't decide to get away from us in the meanwhile.)

(You must do everything in your hand to prevent that, Lioges. Use your talent if necessary, or he will never be free.)

'This is the gift of the gods, Caradhar, what we fight for,' said the guide, softly, 'what we devoted our existence to so that we could restore the Loom the way it was. We drink of it and its seed is inside us, and it would be unjust and cruel if we didn't take care of scattering it. That's the reason why we live the way we do, my son.'

'It is also inside you, stronger and purer than you think. I know I am asking too much, but if you could ever consider the possibility of sharing your blood with us...' the elf placed his hand again on the rock where the figure was resting, 'gods would bless us all.'

Caradhar didn't say a word on their way back to Dervharn. He was too confused after everything he had seen, and the sensations his body had experienced had been so enervating that their effects were still there. Lioges looked at him, worried, but he knew there was nothing he could say by then, because the young elf needed to meditate.

Once they were there Caradhar fell asleep without a bite to eat. Lioges decided to stay with him instead of going back to his lodging at the library; he was tired but he couldn't sleep. He slowly climbed the stairs up to his bedroom to pick a book and peered at the shape resting on the bed. Only his breath could be heard, and it was slightly agitated: the gifted was probably dreaming.

He felt relaxed while looking at him. The children were right, he was like fire outside and ice inside, and his mind seemed to steal all warmth. But somehow that experience of sharing his energy with him had been fulfilling, satisfactory, as if some kind of balance had been restored and had put thing in place, where they should be. What kind of feeling was that? Fraternal? Paternal? But he had never needed to comfort Vira, despite his circumstances and the way his brother was. And as for his children, it was a fact he never spent enough time with them as to need to play the protector... Affective? He thought of his children's mother, the talented elf Father had paired him off with, time ago. They didn't see each other often because she lived with her own clan. She was certainly beautiful, he admired and respected her. She had even given him pleasure. But it never went beyond that, and she was too strong to depend on him.

He didn't know what to think any more, because the last possibility was against the law of nature and he wasn't like his brother. He had always done his duty, had accepted a partner when the time had come, had given her children. Caradhar himself had a son, hadn't he? And however, wasn't it true that his lover had been a male? That he shared Vira's unnatural impulses? Could it be that he, Lioges, was feeling attracted to another male elf?

No, it was impossible... No matter how beautiful he was, with such eye-catching hair and eyes. Undoubtedly it was just a mere protective instinct. Or maybe that young elf was using his attraction power indiscriminately and he had accidentally fallen under his spell. But that would pass: the gifted would learn to weave that energy and everything would be back to normal. Undoubtedly.

Caradhar tossed and turned in bed. For the first time in his life he was dreaming, and it wasn't his imagination. It wasn't properly a dream, for there were no images, but sensations. And they were so vivid...

The main character of the dream was him, and he was in fact in a bed. His eyes had to be closed or the room in complete darkness, as he couldn't see a thing. He was naked and lying on his back, and someone was playing between his legs in the most delightful way; someone who knew very well what he liked, where to caress, where to lick, where to press so that the pleasure were intense and prolonged. He didn't have to do anything, just let himself go, arch his body so that his hips were at the complete disposal of those lips and hands. His feet had been fiddling with his partner's legs, tracing their outlines with the toes, but he had had to lower them and then started to curl them on the mattress. His arms, stretched at both sides of his head, held on to the headboard tight, because he was close, oh, yes, so close to explode inside that mouth that no muscle of his body was relaxed any more... 'Sül...', he heard himself moaning, and the lips stopped before he could reach his orgasm.

He put his hands down and felt the lines of that face, and checked it was indeed the Shadow who had been giving him pleasure so far. That made him breath with relief... but then, why had he stopped? 'Sül... don't stop, please', he begged, 'do whatever you want, but don't stop...'. His companion stretched to reach his ear, taking good care of not touching him, and Sül's voice whispered: 'Sure, I'll go on... but first you've got to tell me that you love me...'

He woke up at once, with a muffled cry, and sat up. He was sweaty and completely excited, and his heart was beating very fast. A light shone by the stairs: it was Lioges, worried, coming up in a hurry.

'Caradhar? Anything happens?' The elf left the candle besides the bed. 'A nightmare?'

'I never dream,' answered the young elf, placing his elbows on his knees and sinking his head between them. 'But today, for the first time... Lioges, what's wrong with me? There's something that doesn't work inside of me, and in that cavern... is it because of magic? Because I can't use it? Because... I can't take it any more... Please, show me how to let it out, or whatever... I don't want kids to say again those things when they see me outside... I'll do whatever you people want...'

The healer held his temples. He almost had to remove his hands right away, so intense were the emotions flowing from the young elf: longing, disillusion, anger... and such a strong desire that Lioges had to breath deeply to calm down.

'The person who can help you is away, taking care of another clan guide, but once she's back...'

'Please, Lioges... Tell your guide I accept, I'll give the elf he chooses a child...' the healer stiffened, 'but I need...'

'Caradhar... you don't have to make any hasty decision, because you're one of us and we'll help you even if you don't agree to Savhran's request.'

'You're wrong, Lioges.' The gifted's look became a bit colder. 'Something I learnt in this world is that nobody gets nothing for free. Nobody.'

The Silvan released him slowly, took the candle and stood up.

'Try to get some sleep. We'll speak again in the morning, once you have rested.'

Darkness seized that room again. But Caradhar couldn't fall asleep again: he was missing a couple of arms to hold him. He slipped his hand inside his trousers and tried to get some relief for that erection that was pressing painfully.

However, when he was done, he felt empty. Climax wasn't the only thing he needed. Being alone wasn't what he needed...

One thing, at least, was clear: those elves could give him something worthy to get, something that might put his head in order. His instincts were telling him he had to do as much as possible to achieve it.

***

Sül lay on the bed of his refuge in the Ditch. He had spent there the first days since Caradhar's departure, unable to believe it was real. It was the best place to be, as the sheets still kept his scent... Ah... why did he smell so good? Him, who couldn't even do it himself... He had spent hours lying on his stomach, his nose buried in the pillow, building up his hopes: he'd be back any time soon, it had been just some fleeting anger (but when had the gifted experienced any fleeting anger, or of any other kind?), he'd cross the door and lay besides him and hold his back, as he had done that last night when he, like a bloody jerk...

And in the next morning, after he had... after he had fucked him like an animal (because he couldn't find more appropriate words), in any way better than that damn alchemist, Caradhar still had wanted to kiss him, and he had averted his lips... could he be more stupid? All those things... no wonder he was angry! But if he had been able to forgive him and seal peace with a kiss... he would forgive him this time too, right? He couldn't have any feelings for that guard, could he? He only shagged him because...

Gods! He couldn't, he couldn't accept him to be in bed with someone else... He had tried, but he couldn't... He had seen it many times; he'd forgive him many times, as he had done before... but may the gods help anyone laying a hand on him... even his own son...

And it was precisely that reasoning what had led him to that situation... Did he have any right to get rid of someone who had saved the life of the person he loved? Were it not for him he might had lost the gifted forever; and now...

But deep inside him he couldn't stop blaming Caradhar. Never, not even a single time, had he considered the possibility of getting laid with someone else. He knew well the gifted was different but... did he love him? Did he love him, even if just a half? even if just a quarter? And him, Sül, did he care at all? As long as the red-haired elf had been with him, was it any difference if it had been out of love, attachment, habit? Did he had any self-esteem left?

He spent all that time deep into those torturous thoughts, hour after hour, again and again, on the verge of madness. After those first days he looked for a more discreet refuge, although he'd keep watching in case his companion were back. And after twenty days, when he needed to go back to collect his dose of antidote, he decided he'd talk to the Maede, who had been surely moving heaven and earth in search of the gifted, and tell him Caradhar was gone. And he'd put himself at his mercy if the boy decided to make him pay in any possible way, because he couldn't stand it any more. Maybe the redhead was just hidden to teach him a lesson, and he'd come out if his life was at stake, and let him off. Maybe...

His meeting with Lord Navhares wasn't as he had expected. The Maede received him in the palace at once and listened to what he had to say: that he had found that Arestinias guard again, that he had killed him against the gifted's wishes, that it was his fault that Caradhar had decided to leave. The younger elf frowned and clenched his fists before he turned his back to the Shadow and apparently focused his attention on the window.

'Dame Corail said once,' continued Sül with a bitter voice, 'that my integrity depended on him staying in the House... What do you want to do, Your Highness, since I failed so miserably? Do you think I deserve retribution?'

Lord Navhares didn't answer immediately. Sül watched him and noticed his knuckles had turned white with tension... He awaited, expectant.

'Caradhar... has feelings for you,' he answered finally. 'He'd never forgive me if I caused you any pain.'

'Isn't it clear that he stopped having them?' Sül's voice became almost desperate. 'That obviously I'm not able to hold him here anymore?'

'Then I'll have to have more faith than you, Sül. I want to believe that he couldn't go away like this, that he'll be back once he isn't mad. I want to believe,' the Maede lowered his head and clenched his teeth, 'that if you're more important for him than me, he won't surely leave you so easily...'

Sül went pale. He had always been doubtful, had supposed that boy only felt a selfish attachment to Caradhar, a desire to possess him as if he were a pet. But Navhares, despite his youth, really loved him. As much as to let him go; as much as to wait for him... That made him feel even worse. He muttered an apology and ran away from that place.

He returned to his small improvised refuge in the Ditch. There he held the little box with the phials of antidote. It was due time for a new dose, as his stomach was starting to burn... He raised one of the small tubes and stared at it. How many years had he been drinking that shit? His mouth twisted into a miserable smile upon remembering that occasion on top of the tower, when Caradhar had suggested him to run away together and live in the forests, and his blood had been strong enough to fight that poison... If he had accepted... If he had known...

The phial he was holding seemed to float in front of him, becoming a blur by the second... It fell to the ground, where it smashed to smithereens. His head was spinning. How long had it been since the last time he had eaten? Truth be told, he had forgotten to feed himself... He suffered a sudden dizziness, and all the contents of the box followed the first phial... The Shadow leaned against the wall and peered down at the jumble of wet broken glasses... That didn't look good...

Who cared... Only filthy potions... He would surely come to rescue him... Come on, Adhar... come and do your magic again... I need to drink from you once more... I need... I need you...

When Sül opened his eyes he understood he had fainted. He didn't know where he was: lying on a wooden bench, a cushion under his head, in a room that looked like a bath. He was only wearing his breeches; the rest of his belongings were on a table in the corner, along with his small wooden box, that was missing a phial.

One moment: he has dropped that box. How the blazes...? Was that a dream? He moved his hand to his stomach but didn't feel anything special, the heartburn was gone. He tried to stand but still was feeling weak. Did it make any difference just sitting there? He leaned against the wall and stretched his neck backwards.

'It was about time, you damn wretch,' said a voice by the entrance.

Vira. The Silvan looked at him suspiciously through his half-closed eyes. He was carrying a steaming soup bowl in one hand and, curiously, wearing some pretty normal shirt and trousers. Now that was strange...

'Where you planning to starve yourself to death and, since it wasn't fast enough, you decided to suppress the antidotes? Very clever, Sül. Some god must think highly of you because I can't understand how could you survive yourself through all these years.' The tall elf walked towards the Shadow and placed the bowl on the bench.

'Then it wasn't a dream... Where did you get that box of phials?'

'Same place where the rest of them come from.'

Sül's battered brain needed a great effort to process that information.

'... Did you sneak into Darshi'nai...?'

'Shut up and drink this, you fool.' Somehow the Silvan managed to make the dark-haired elf have some sips of soup. 'Dainhaya told me to leave you doing your own thing, that you needed some time to adapt... It seems your idea of adaptation is running to the nearest cliff and jump... Wait. Forget what I said: as if you need me to give you ideas... What did you expect to get, speaking to Navhares like that? That he'd send the Darshi'nai after you? That he would demand your head?' Vira smiled cynically. 'Do you believe we would allow him to harm you? Such a loss of time...'

'Have you been following me all these days? I'm so honoured... Why the fuck don't you leave me alone? You should go back to your forests, where it seems plenty of female elves wait to be impregnated...'

'Do you know something, Sül?' The Silvan leaned over him, still smiling wickedly. 'If I hadn't had too many scruples, and oh how regretful I am now, probably you wouldn't had awoken with your trousers on. Probably you'd had done it face down, after having had an intimate knowledge of that part of my anatomy that so much caught your attention that time...'

'I'd rather have my throat slit...'

Vira seemed to lose his temper.

'Stop speaking about death once for fucking all and make an effort to pull yourself together! You look pathetic! Don't you understand you aren't like that?'

'As if you'd got any idea about how the heck I am...'

'Right now, a wreck. Like an idiotic girl languishing because the guy that took her virginity ran away through the window... Don't you have any pride? Then react! And take a damn bath, because you stink!'

Vira pushed Sül to the stone floor and threw a huge bucket of water at him. The Shadow remained there for some instants, opening his mouth in puzzlement, until the yearning for beating that damn bastard up made him clench his teeth and fists. That was right what the Silvan was awaiting, and he was ready to take some punches if necessary... But Sül didn't get up: sorrow seized him again. Turning his back to the other elf he curled up on the floor, holding his legs.

Vira mumbled a curse. It had been so close... That was getting on his nerves, but he couldn't be mad for long: he had to think of some other way to shake him. He stared at the dark-haired elf, who really seemed to want to curl up and die. His only visible part was his back, with those scarifications he had got to know so well. He hated to admit it, but Caradhar was right about that: they were beautiful on that skin. His eyes could get lost in that sea of curves that danced around the outlines of his muscles, and in the end the temptation to make his hands follow his eyes was always too strong... Approaching him, he squatted down and rested a hand on his shoulder blade.

'Forgive me. I just want to help you, it's so hard to see you like this. I don't know what future brings, but whatever it is it can't happen with you in this condition. You have to be yourself again.'

'Why do you care shit... about what happens to me...'

'Because I've been watching you for a long time, Sül. I'm some kind of outcast among my own people, didn't you know? I've been in this city for so long, moving like a Darshi'nai, that in the end I am a complete stranger for them.' The Silvan approached him even more, moving the dark wet hair that hid his companion's face aside and raising his chin to look him in the eye. 'You are like me, someone who doesn't belong anywhere any more. You are the most similar to me I could ever find, the only one who could understand how I feel and what I want... and I think I can do the same for you...'

Vira took off his shirt, fairly wet at that point, and stretched his arms at both sides of the Shadow. The young elf again felt intimidated by that visage, so similar to Neharall's, and by that wide, well-muscled chest. He already knew it would be like that, since that tight suit he used to wear didn't leave much to imagination, but he had never seen the skin under it. In contrast with his own it was free of scars, as if he had never been wounded in combat. He was... alluring...

The Silvan moved his face close to his, looking at him through his silky wine-coloured eyelashes. But instead of going for his lips, this time he softly kissed his right cheek, and then the left. His mouth moved down little by little, to the edge of his jaw, and started to glide along his neck.

'No...' said Sül, moving back and pursing his lips. 'I...'

Vira felt bothered, yet his eyes didn't show his disappointment. He tilted his head and decided to change tactics.

'Maybe you rather have this...'

He covered his companion's eyes and let his body transform. When he moved his hand away, Sül found himself in front of a familiar crimson pair, and a mane of the same colour... He stared in astonishment at Caradhar's features, and the resemblance was so perfect that he could find no flaw... The size of his body, the colour of his skin... the same lips that didn't use to smile... He knew it wasn't real; he knew what that elf had just done, but it had been so long since the last time he had watched that red and white picture that couldn't help but feast his eyes on it, as much as he could...

The fake Caradhar placed both hands on the Shadow's shoulders and slipped them down. Those reliefs under his fingertips... How long had he craved for touching them... It was as much as he had expected, and even more... Or maybe it was just all that pent-up unfulfilled desire, but truth was that his hands were calling his tongue...

The tip of Vira's tongue appeared between his lips and softly slid along Sül's, right as Caradhar used to do it, his knocking on the door before entering... Even his taste was similar, and the Shadow wondered if that couldn't be one of their spells, if the one holding him in his arms couldn't be his lover himself, brought to that room gods knew how... And then that tongue abandoned its good manners and penetrated through the lips apart in search of his, and once it found it it sought the way of tasting it from every possible angle. The hands drew that wet body close and went down until the end of his spinal cord, entering his breeches...

Sül looked inside those red eyes. They were warm, almost burning; they shouted their passion even being half-closed; they were...

They weren't Caradhar's.

The Shadow violently pushed himself out of the embrace and slipped on the wet floor, falling on his back. Vira leaned over him, placing his hands at both sides of his face; but there was so much desperation in him that he couldn't go on. He cursed Sül for behaving like a first-time in love girl; he cursed Caradhar for being a heartless bastard; he cursed himself, all in all, for such a pathetic attempt...

The door of the bath was opened, allowing Dainhaya in.

'Vira, stop it. That isn't what he needs right now, and even you know it.'

The tall Silvan recovered his true form, grimacing. He leapt to his feet and strode outside the room, although he didn't get very far: he stayed outside the door, listening.

As for the female, she knelt besides Sül, helped him to sit up and hugged him. It wasn't like her companion's one at all, it was affectionate and protective: a loving sister's embrace. A kind of embrace he had never experienced before. Her arms were small, but so warm that he could only abandon himself to them, while the knot that had been growing inside his chest had become so big that was threatening with making him burst into tears.

'Why... why do you take care of me? I don't share your blood like him. I'm... I'm nobody... nothing...'

'That isn't true. Neharall raised you, in his own deranged way, as his own child. He delivered you to the Darshi'nai as part of his blood. You are one of us, Sül; I'll never turn my back to you because you are my family. You committed mistakes... who didn't? But yours is one of the warmest hearts I ever beheld, despite the life you had to live. No-one could help but loving you.'

'No-one, except...' He tightened his teeth to avoid crying. 'Why, Dainhaya? Why staying with me for so long if he didn't love me? He could've had anyone... why doing this to me?'

'Do you think he doesn't love you, Sül?' The female elf's embrace became more intense. 'Maybe he doesn't do it the way you do, but the only one he knows. You have always been the most important person for him.'

'That can't be true... I... I can't live like this but he doesn't seem to care about being far away, not knowing if I'm dead or alive...'

'Sül... for you, Caradhar became Elore'il's prisoner again, despite his most hated thing in life were chains... It was Darial's threat of killing you, before he ran away from the House, what made him decide to follow him... For you he's able to get a spear through his heart, and bleed until the point of exhaustion, and act against his nature... Even now a part of him knows there's something he needs to find so that he won't make you suffer again...'

She moved and looked at the Shadow in the eye.

'While he was leaving he wanted to tell me something. Anger didn't allow his lips to pronounce it, but I heard it clearly in my head. He said to me: 'take care of him'. Sül, I am sure he is missing you right now.'

 

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