Introduction
A
Glance at the Past...
Right
before dawn, the sky turned pink and yellow over the horizon, in
layers blurred by shreds of cold fog. In Argent City, the
stained-glass windows opened on the stylised walls of the buildings
were still black spots, in silence.
The
brightness of an unsteady light outlined the closed shutters of a
small window; since it looked to an inner courtyard, it wasn't
visible from the street, and its presence didn't reveal the small
drama taking place inside.
A
female figure was sitting down, panting, on the messy sheets of the
bed; red locks of her hair covered a beautiful but sweaty face,
flanked by two pointy ears; she was a very young female elf, and
despite her obvious pain she held herself back not to scream, her
tense hands holding on tight to the borders of the mattress. Another
older female elf leant towards her open legs to receive the baby she
had just given birth to.
'It's
a male, milady,' the midwife announced with a smile, covering the
child's little body and offering him to his young mother; she shook
her head, trying to recompose her face, averting her eyes from the
newborn. The midwife's expression betrayed her disappointment, but
she moved him away, obedient. 'The sooner we do the test, the better,
milady.'
Saying
this, she took a sharp, thin-bladed knife and slid it gently along
the baby's left heel, making him cry. The young female elf couldn't
help but feel curiosity and stared at the small foot, on which the
weapon traced a red line; almost instantly, the wound closed, leaving
nothing but some drops of blood behind.
The
elder female elf, rejoicing, pronounced words of congratulation, but
the young mother told her to shut up without ceremony. Sighing, she
finally gazed at her white-skinned son, his little head crowned with
fine hair of the brightest red. If the baby hadn't possessed the
Gift, he would have been nothing but a common child, and getting rid
of him would have been easier. As a daughter of House Llia'res, a
natural son would have spoiled her expectations of celebrating an
advantageous marriage; she wouldn't have dreamt of keeping the small
bastard, when hiding her pregnancy had already been an almost
impossible task. But a gifted child was too valuable; she would have
to look for some appropriate servant to raise him. You never knew:
maybe, in the future, the boy would be useful for her...
'What
will his name be, milady?' inquired the midwife.
The
young female looked at her son again; much to her regret, his bright
red hair was very similar to hers. Besides, her companion's questions
reminded her that she would have to be taken care of very soon... If
only pain would allow her to think...
'Leave
him there and come to help me.' She stifled a wail, trying to sit up.
'Is it normal so much pain? And so much blood...?
A
Glance at the World...
There
was a time when magic was the thread that held the tapestry of the
world together; or at least, that's what scholars said. When men and
elves met for the first time, in a period forgotten by the first and
registered in chronicles, later buried in dusty and lost libraries,
by the second, magic was an inherited talent, like skin or hair
colour, or resistance to diseases; and elves marvelled at creatures
like primitive humans, apparently so rough, yet capable of weaving in
the Loom (as they called the art of casting spells), almost as
efficiently as elves themselves. To the borders of the green
grasslands and forests where sharp-eared, bright-haired elves liked
to inhabit, wise humans arrived to pay their respects and ask for
advice about the magic domain, since the first, veteran users, had
awakened to civilisation much earlier than men; when the wild elves
left the shadowy forests where they used to hide and learn to
communicate through words, to make beautiful tools and to weave
delicate fabrics as well as mighty spells, humans were still quite
similar to animals, and the elder race avoided them. But it so
happened that men found their own voices, and they hadn't been
deprived of the talent of magic; at first, elves looked askance at
them, and later they simply showed tolerance, restricting the contact
to their frontiers. There was understanding between both worlds, over
time, but they never got mixed up.
Humans
enjoyed lasting existences; nothing compared, however, to the elves'
prodigious longevity. Some people used to think that long lives had
taught them to be tolerant, and so were they, even those without
magic talents. But among humans, who lived their lives faster and
with uncertainty, the seed of restlessness began to grow.
Elves
used then, and even now, to regard humans as children, born without
patience and whose lives were too short to learn. Maybe they were
right; but many men already distrusted the weavers of the Loom, and
now they started to feel threatened by those long-living creatures;
impatience and distrust paved the way to envy, and then fear.
That
was the moment when the first alchemists appeared; the ones that
broke the thread of the magic fabric. The humans born without the
talent, but who were still eager for power and didn't want to be at
the mercy of those bestowed with natural gifts, searched in the
mundane the way of replacing magic. The path to the flowering of
biology, medicine, botanics and mineralogy was open. In the same way
as magic schools, alchemy laboratories were opened, where anyone
could achieve the knowledge that granted power... as long as they
possessed enough gold.
It
wasn't long before the new Order of Alchemists realised how much time
and effort was necessary to achieve any advance, however small it
might be; despite all their determination, there was no potion,
preparation, philtre, ointment or formula that could compete on an
equal basis with the essential and basic energy of magic. And then
Master Therendas suggested what, for a long time, was recalled as The
Great Blasphemy: the experimentation on talented persons.
Master
Therendas, a high rank alchemist, was fortunate to work under the
patronage of powerful men, and an unscrupulous person. He was
absolutely convinced of the need of using talented specimens if
alchemy wanted to match magic. Fortunately nobody remembers the
horrors committed in the name of science; from the first studies with
corpses, a move was soon made to the use of living trial subjects;
far too often, the experiments performed on them led to the same
result: death.
Master
Therendas and his followers' activities were made public. It might be
expected that the mighty spell weavers would oppose (even if the
number of talented people was never high), since the reach of magic
far exceeded the one of alchemy, still in its infancy. And probably a
violent conflict would have exploded, were not for those elves who,
deprived of the talent and seduced by the promising secrets of
science, gave up their centenary traditions and took the alchemists'
side. With discord dwelling the core of the elven world, the balance
was tipped in favour of the potion makers.
Alchemy
was ineffective to unravel the mysteries of magic, yet somehow it
managed to suffocate it. Therendas, already in his old age, and his
followers, discovered that the administration of certain substances
to people with the talent gradually led to its eradication. The
threat of a minority rule of magic orders stopped being a reality.
How
the poison that choked the talent passed down from parents' blood to
their children's; how the same fate swooped down on the elves; how
this provoked the split that sent the traditional elves to the depths
of the forests, while the rest built cities to live close to men...
There are no records of all of this, except maybe as part of the
Silvan Elves' lost wisdom, whose people weren't seen again. The only
truth was that elves lived shorter lives, although the last remain of
known magic, known as the Gift, survived in the blood of a few of
them, the gifted, with the power of healing; also, alchemists
expanded their knowledge and might through the years, becoming the
new elite, and Master Therendas was never remembered again as the
person responsible for the Great Blasphemy, but the Patron of
Science.
Of
all the elven cities, the most important was Argailias, called by the
humans Argent City. That name wasn't a big display of imagination,
since the numerous, tall and narrow towers rising up at the Noble
District, and the forty-nine domes decorating the Prince's Palace,
shone under the sunlight with a silver glow. Even under the
moonlight, the silvery sparkles were visible, over the city walls, to
any traveller approaching in the distance.
Argent
City rose, then, in all its splendour, along the border with the
human principality of Therendanar, a day's trip away from the capital
of the same name. This proximity was not accidental: the inhabitants
of Therendanar, feared by the rest of men, had found valuable allies
among some of the noble elven Houses; the balance of political power
in Argailias was sustained in part by the dominion of alchemical
science; elves couldn't but appreciate the ability of the best human
alchemists, who congregated within the nearby city walls.
The
Palace of the Forty-nine Moons, the Prince's abode, was built in the
very centre of the city. Surrounding it, the Noble District spread
its wide avenues and hidden and secret courtyards forming concentric
circles, where proximity to the centre marked the ranks of the
different Houses. In the next outer circle, the Merchant District and
Public Institutions, with its profusion of streets, canals, bridges,
walks, squares and other architectural elements, represented a
challenge to the occasional traveller who wanted to find his way...
That is, if he had been able of successfully crossing the outer
labyrinth of houses and the shady underworld, pejoratively known by
the locals as the Ditch.
House
Llia'res was part of the Second Circle of the Noble District. Its
rank wasn't the highest, but it was big enough to allow a small
orphan to go unnoticed, even a gifted one. The few elves born with
the Gift were considered precious assets; normally, plebeian elves
used to send their gifted children to join one noble House or
another.
Under
the tutelage of different guardians, the newborn elf, whose red hair
had inspired his mother the name of Caradhar, received exhaustive
education despite his dark origins. Thanks to the laboratory of his
House, and some visits to Therendanar, he became familiar with the
basics principles of alchemy, and he even visited the Grand
Laboratory at the Prince's Castle. He was likewise instructed in
fighting techniques, although he didn't show an early fondness of
weapons. He wasn't treated like a servant, nor addressed as a noble.
He never received parents' affection, yet he didn't miss it either,
as one can't feel the loss of something one never knew. If anything,
it was the lack of a dividing line between his aspirations and his
limitations the only thing that ever caused him confusion; he was not
certain about how much he would be allowed to progress in life, and
an unconscious glimmer of ambition always dwelt in his apparent
submission.
As
regards his mother, time had proved that she hadn't exceeded in her
own ambitions. The gorgeous young elf, known as Corail, became a
gorgeous adult and made her way to the pinnacle of Argailian
hierarchy, by means of her marriage with the Maede Killien, Lord of
House Elore'il of the First Circle. She acquired the title of Maeda
and moved with great pomp to her new residence.
Years
passed by, and Maede Killien became disillusioned, as his wife didn't
bear him any children. To ingratiate herself with him, and overcoming
the opposition of Llia'res, who didn't want to let him go, Dame
Corail offered a very valuable present to the House: a young elf with
the Gift...
I:
From a lover's arms to a mother's arms
A
huge window on the wall offered a wonderful view of the summer.
Dozens of square, opaque pieces of glass, filtered a beautiful
brightness; but the upper part, wide open, let the sunlight stream
in, wildly, creating a yellow frame for the large couch resting at
its feet, covered with a white fabric.
On
the couch, lying indolently, his legs dangling, there was an elf. He
was fairly young, barely out of his adolescence, still short and of
light built, because he hadn't trained with regularity. However, he
possessed a very handsome face, enhanced with the most amazing mane
of ruby-red hair, that normally hung down below his shoulder blades,
but now was spread around his shoulders, like a halo of fire. The
contrast of the crimson silhouette on the white fabric was striking:
the pale skin of his naked chest, on the other hand, seemed to be
part of it, completely smooth, free of marks and scars. Same as all
the gifted elves.
The
elf's eyes were closed and his expression of complete relax; you
could say he was enjoying the moment, although no smile arched the
soft lines of his lips; the alabaster of his features was only
disturbed by the lines of his eyebrows and silky eyelashes, vivid
red. The only clothes he was wearing were his breeches, and his boots
were lying on the floor, along with his shirt.
He
had no idea someone was watching him; another elf had tiptoed inside
the room; the amount of fabric covering the rest of the furniture,
the carpets and the curtains had helped to muffle the sound of his
steps. His plan had been surprising the young elf on the couch; but
when he saw him like that, he changed his mind, or rather, stopped
thinking: it was the first time he had such a view of him under the
sun. And he was rendered speechless.
'Caradhar...'
The
elf on the couch quickly sat up; he moved his arm to protect his face
from the light and his eyes opened, revealing two shining circles,
the same colour as his hair. Upon checking who had come in, he seemed
to relax.
'Don't
move; lay back down; please.'
The
redhead did so, yet keeping his hand over his eyes. The newcomer
approached him and kept watching. Soon he took off his boots and
shirt; looking was no longer enough.
'You
chose a curious spot this time. What if anyone enters?' asked
Caradhar.
'I
wanted good light. And it's... it's worthwhile.' The elf placed his
knee on the couch, careful not to block the sun that bathed his
companion's body, and leant. 'Tomorrow you'll be gone to Elore'il, so
I wanted it to be different. Honestly, I don't care anymore if the
whole House is listening...'
The
elf rested his hand on the slim chest, on which the two pink areolas
of his nipples stood out. His tongue was irresistibly drawn to those
coloured marks on the boy's skin, and lingered along them for a
moment. But he couldn't forget that there were even better places to
take care of, and his partner's breeches were in the way...
He
knelt and swiftly pulled them down, exposing the rest of his body.
His sex, as creamy as his skin, was beautifully chiselled; it was
starting to awaken, so his mouth took upon itself the task of making
it rise completely; success didn't take long, and a drop of
crystalline liquid oozed from the rosy extreme, that glimmered like a
gem under the sun. Caradhar shivered, but didn't allow his companion
to continue; grabbing his temples, he made him stand up and lie
besides him. His tongue sank between his lips, and his hand, in his
trousers; he quickly found what he was looking for, as excited as
expected. The elf moaned inside his mouth; he felt his skin burning,
and could tell no more if it was the sun, or his own longing.
In
the laboratory of Llia'res, Caradhar was a familiar face. It was
curious that a boy, not even an apprentice, and a gifted in addition,
frequented a place banned to strangers. An alchemist with a
reasonable level of influence was infatuated with him, or at least
that's what the rumours said...
The
elf tightly embracing the redhead right then was himself an artisan
alchemist newly arrived to the laboratory, and wasn't very familiar
with all the gossips. He couldn't have care less: after weeks of
devouring him with his eyes, the gifted had made a pass at him. And
now, the Maede had offered the young elf to House Elore'il...
'How
do you feel, for having to leave Llia'res?' asked the alchemist,
staring at his companion's gestures. The latter shrugged with
indifference.
'There's
nothing to say; it's already decided.'
'I
bet it makes you happy, thinking of the possibility of visiting their
lab; they say it's one of the best. I bet first thing you'll do is
seducing some important alchemist who will open its doors for you,'
he added with a bitter smile.
'Did
we come to talk, or...?' interrupted the redhead, sliding his hand
along the inner side of his thigh.
The
alchemist stopped talking. He was going to add 'I bet you won't miss
me', but held himself back. It sounded pathetically sentimental; and
he was sure he wouldn't get any answer. He tried to focus on the
strokes of those hands that knew so well what they were doing...
'Caradhar!
Where are you? They're waiting for you! Caradhar!'
The
echo of an impatient voice yelling along the corridors reached them
clearly. The two elves froze. Right away, Caradhar jumped out of the
couch and got dressed as fast as he could.
The
last vision of him that his companion had was that of his slender
silhouette against the light, wearing his light clothes. Then, the
young elf turned around and left the place without looking back.
'Caradhar,
I hope you'll remember me: I'm Corail; the current Maeda of Elore'il.
The
gifted was surprised; he had never expected to attract the interest
of a female elf like her. He deeply bowed his head, but then openly
studied the majestic figure: taller than him, beautiful, with a very
long mane almost as red as his own. He had never had such a close
look at the noble elf, and felt captivated at first sight by her
appearance. He wondered if he would become her gifted; what other
reason could she have to with to meet him?
As
for the lady, she did the same as him; a slight smile fluttered
across her face, as she reached for the boy's cheek and gently
stroked it.
'Llia'res
has been as generous as to let a gifted like you go, as an offering
to my husband, Lord Killien. I wish the change of House won't cause
you any problem: believe me, I wouldn't have asked for it if I hadn't
considered your future advantages.' Caradhar raised an eyebrow: since
when someone like him was meant to get explanations about his
destiny? 'You may not know it, but I've been interested in you for
such a long time, and want to have you in Elore'il at any cost. I
have many things to tell you, but not here, nor now. I'm supposed to
be visiting my... family. We'll see each other soon, then. So long.
Dame
Corail rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment and left. The
young elf wasn't used to be surprised by anything, but he definitely
was, that time...
House
Elore'il was sumptuous; Caradhar didn't have many points of
reference: he had spent all his life inside of Llia'res, except the
few visits he had paid to Therendanar. Yet he couldn't help but
admire the exquisite, stylised architecture, and the striking
stained-glass windows displaying the colours of the House: red, black
and silver.
Caradhar
received, for the first time in his life, his mother's attention;
unknowingly at first, because she was cautious and cunning, and
didn't know if she could trust him. After all those years of
detachment, her current circumstances had pushed her to show
interest.
Since
the young elf had been a member of her mother House, Corail could
justify her wish of taking him directly under her wing. Maede Killien
would never give up his privilege of adding a promising gifted to his
personal guards; but through the duration of his training, the lady
of he House would be free of using her influence on him. She started
to get familiar with everything related to her son's life: he was of
reserved nature and few words, and not a great friend of establishing
relationships. Apparently his only notorious interest were
laboratories; she knew of his trips to Therendanar and was sure that,
had he been able to choose his destiny, he would have started a
promising career as alchemist. Did that cause him frustration? His
mother couldn't tell, as Caradhar hadn't entrusted his thoughts to
anyone.
The
elf had another interest, although much more private. He was a very
eye-catching boy, and a gifted; it was the kind of interest that
usually took place by night, behind a closed door...
Dame
Corail was beset with doubts. Would his son, loyal to no-one, show
his loyalty to her? Or would he betray her trust and reveal her most
tightly guarded secret? The female elf considered the question with
care; putting her faith in her intelligence and seduction abilities,
she revealed him her true identity.
She
had expected anything but his reaction, or rather, the lack of it,
when he heard the news: he just fixed his eyes on his mother; eyes so
beautiful, yet cold and completely devoid of interest. The very same
kind expression she had displayed on the day she gave birth to him.
***
'Come
in, dear. I am so pleased that you accepted my invitation.'
Dame
Corail offered a sweet smile to her son once he arrived to her
private lodging in the Ditch. The dirty door in the dark and hidden
alley contrasted with the luxurious inside; nothing as magnificent,
of course, as her apartments at House Elore'il, but indeed
unexpected, considering they were in the worst part of the city.
Caradhar
looked around briefly and nonchalantly walked towards one of the
seats, under his mother's attentive gaze. A young female entered in
silence, carrying a tray of drinks. The elf took a glass of wine,
staring at the servant's delicate face, and followed the movement of
her slender body as she left.
'Indeed,
I am delighted,' insisted the lady, taking a seat close to him.
'After such a long time, I had almost abandoned hope that you would
allow me to enjoy your company, my dear...'
'Don't
turn this into a drama, Corail.' She smiled to herself; she hadn't
expected him to call her 'mother' in private, but that way of
addressing her was more personal than Maeda, or Dame. 'Why did you
send for me?'
'It's
much more discreet here, don't you think? Tell me, do they treat you
well, in House Elore'il? Are you happy?'
He
stared at her blankly, as if he didn't understand the question.
'I
don't know what's expected from me. Back in Llia'res, I used to
receive some alchemy lessons.'
'Oh,
I understand; you see, dear: anyone can become a laboratory
apprentice. But the fact is, when having a Gift like yours, one must
aspire to the highest position. A gifted elf's place is besides the
Maede; once you complete your training, you will take your rightful
place. And once you are a member of Killien's personal guard, any
door will be open for you. Think of the possibilities: a House of the
First Circle! My husband is one of the Prince's cousins; there is
only a handful of such high-ranking noble elves; something you could
only dream about at Llia'res.'
'I
liked the laboratory,' was the red-haired elf's answer.
'The
House Grand Alchemist is one of the best in Argailias; my husband's
position is not only sustained on his relationship to the Prince, as
you will soon find yourself.' There was a certain tension in her
voice as she spoke. 'I already told you: finish your training, and I
have no doubt that you'll be allowed to continue your alchemy
studies, if that's what you want. Nestro is one of the weapon masters
and part of my escort when I left our mother House: it would be ideal
if he took care of you, so I'll see to it. And now, tell me: Is there
anything I could do, something you wish? Just ask.'
Caradhar
took a sip from his glass and commented, avoiding eye contact:
'Sometimes,
in the other House, I could tag along the apprentices when they
travelled to Therendanar.'
'Ah,
yes: and you always managed to sneak into the Grand Laboratory. I
wonder how you did it, keeping in mind that not even our artisan
alchemists have free access there. I guess you made some important
friend there...
The
young elf's cup instantly froze on his lips; his red eyes searched
for his mother's face, peering over the rim of the glass.
'Do
you have me followed?' he asked in the end, making her laugh.
'You
are my son. Isn't it natural, for a mother, to worry?' Since she
didn't want to give him the chance to make a sarcastic remark, she
added quickly: 'It is only natural that House Elore'il restricts your
movements: you are a too valuable newcomer. But don't you worry:
you'll see your human friends soon enough, I promise. My only wish is
to prove you there is nothing more important for me than making up
for all these years of silence.' A sweet smile curved her lips, and
she gently rested her hand on his knee; the young elf followed her
motion with his inexpressive look.
'Why
don't you have children with the Maede? They talk about it at the
House,' said Caradhar. She removed her hand at once, as if his
contact was burning her. She looked down, remorseful, and spoke very
softly.
'When
you were born, I was as weak as to commit the horrible mistake of
giving you up; it's obvious that the gods decided to punish me for
my sin, since my womb withered and I could not conceive again.
Neither physicians, nor alchemists, nor all their potions, ointments
or elixirs could do anything for me. My husband, Killien, is a vile
creature; he won't let a day pass without telling me, with hurtful
words, how useless I am for him. He threatens with disowning me and
wedding a young female who can give him children; and in the
meanwhile, he packs his bed with... courtesans,
without showing any kind of embarrassment. Yes, the gods must judge
that I have a lot to suffer before I can expiate my fault.'
Corail
stood up and slowly walked towards her son's back; she slid her hands
along his shoulders and embraced him tenderly, lowering her head so
that her lips brushed his ear. She kept talking, almost in whispers,
her warm breath bathing his skin.
'Now
I see you, so beautiful, and wonder if the gods had different plans
for us; if they decreed, in their wisdom, that a womb can only become
depleted after giving birth to such a perfect fruit.' The female elf
reached for the hairband that tied up Caradhar's long hair and
unfastened it, spreading the red cascade over his shoulders. 'I say
to you, my son, there is no Elore'il who can compare to you, and if
gods deigned to show their justice, Killien would disappear and the
fruit of my womb would be the next Maede of the House...' Corail bent
forward even more, and her own hair got mixed with his mane; a silky
crimson lock slipped along his lips. 'I pray for them to show us the
path, one way or another.'
Moving
the lock out of the way, she pressed her own lips on his. Caradhar
didn't struggle, nor bat an eyelash; his eyes, gazing into space,
didn't follow her as she stood and walked to the door.
'But
now you must return, my dear; I don't want you to be missed.'
With
a last smile, Corail left the room.
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