THE CHAINED GIFT XXIII: The shadow speaks

Caradhar was dreaming. That's what he believed, at least: where those sensations that one experienced while being asleep dreams? He had never dreamed before and couldn't be sure, but he had to be asleep. He was in a dark place and someone had whimpered very softly. Some lips had approached his ear and whispered something he couldn't quite understand. It was strange, because he hadn't felt the breath of that mouth on his skin. Ah, yes: Do what you ought. That's what the voice with the curious accent had said. Do what you ought.

A new whimper. If he was asleep, how could he know he was dreaming? Unless, they had told him, he were about to wake up. And everything was so real: the cold stone floor, the sticky sensation all over his body, the emptiness in his stomach, the pain... The pain was very real, a dull pressure in his chest, right through his heart, like that time in Argailias...

Certainty struck him. The gifted suddenly opened his eyes: he wasn't asleep. He was in a basement, in a house in the city of Varemethe. Sül had come for him and had been wounded; no doubt it was him who whimpered in need of his blood. But he wasn't there. He tried to kneel and looked around.

There was a corpse on the floor, the Misselan spy; the door was slightly swinging, as if someone had just crossed it.

Darial. Sül wasn't there, but the alchemist was lying on that bed and he was the one whimpering. Do what you ought. On the floor, besides the bed, there was a knife...

Sül had left without him. No, he was seriously wounded, and it wasn't his voice the one he had heard. It had to be the other elf, the one who appeared out of thin air. His fingers closed around the knife and his eyes turned to the blond elf shaking besides him. He stared at him from above. In all that time he had never felt anything special for him, except disdain, maybe; a slight nausea; a brief moment of anger when he had threatened with taking him by force in his bedroom of Elore'il. But now... Oh, now he believed he was feeling something. Sül was gone and he felt he needed to thank him...

Darial opened his eyes and took his hand to his neck. The pain was unbearable and his throat was so battered that he could only emit inarticulate sounds. Right then he bent with a coughing fit that worsened his aches even more. How had he got himself into that situation? He couldn't answer the question; everything was still too nebulous. He focused his eyes in the space in front of him, and then he saw him.

Someone watched him from the foot of the bed: a naked pale body, horribly covered in dry blood despite not showing any wounds, with his long, messy mane, of an even brighter red, spread all over his shoulders and partially covering his face. Caradhar. He was holding a knife in his right hand.

'Don't say anything, Darial. I am not affected by the potion, as you have confirmed, and if you try to shout it will only take me one second to kill you. But I want to tell you something.'

Caradhar straddle the alchemist, who looked at him mesmerised: even in that situation he couldn't help but feel captivated by that completely white and crimson apparition that surrounded him with his legs and looked down at him. It was as if the gifted had drunk the golden elixir himself and he, Darial, were compelled to obey him. He didn't talk nor move.

'I killed Lord Killien.' The alchemist swallowed. 'Do you want to know why I did it? He commanded me to plunge my sword into Nestro's throat. I could have disobeyed; he would had probably had me locked up or executed, but I could have chosen. The fact is that I plunged it.'

'I could have also chosen to fight in Argailias, instead of allowing you to drag me here. And I could have paid more attention and prevented you from pronouncing that word, so that Sül hadn't been wounded, or dead, I don't know. But I didn't, so I have the strange feeling that I am back to the starting point. I don't like it at all, but at least I know what I have to do. Do you want to know how I did it?'

'He was in bed, and I straddled him, then pressed my knife against his throat,' his arm slowly followed his words, in front of Darial's horrified eyes, 'and leant to look him straight in the eye. It wasn't like looking at Nestro when he died. I liked to stare at Nestro's dark eyes. They weren't as deep as Sül's but... Lord Killien's gaze was empty and vulgar instead. I didn't feel anything when I killed him.'

'Your eyes, Darial... I thought I wouldn't feel anything, but I was wrong.'

He slipped the knife along the alchemist's chest to his stomach. His entangled mane fell down both sides of his face like a curtain, providing them with intimacy. The knife penetrated inside Darial's belly, whose body quivered slightly; blood gushed from his thin lips; his face convulsed into a surprised grimace, as if he couldn't believe what the young elf had just done.

'W... why?' he stammered, grabbing weakly his killer's wrist. 'I always... always... you've been everything for me...'

Caradhar kept staring at him until light faded away from his yellow eyes.

Then he stood up, wore his breeches, took the bloody knife out of its terrible sheath and carried it with him. Since the door was open, he crossed it. He didn't know what he would find at the other side but didn't care either. He needed to know.

He walked into a semi-dark corridor; he looked both ways and it was desert and silent. The right side ended in a wall, so he turned left, but had barely taken two steps when a couple of hands covered his mouth and grabbed the arm that carried the knife. What hands? There was nothing there, it was...

'Do you remember my voice? Now we'll climb up to the roof, because there are Northerners at the entrance. Do not make any noise.'

The bizarre elf grabbed his wrist without further ado and guided him to the nearest window; once there Caradhar felt the contact of some robust shoulders and neck under his arms. It was the strangest sensation he ever experienced: climbing while being carried on the back of someone he couldn't see... But that character did it at surprising speed, even with the extra weight, so it didn't take long. He found himself on the roof of the neighbouring house, besides the chimney. It was nigh and the crescent moon barely cast any light.

'Yesterday I found a place where we can take shelter, let's go.'

A black bundle he hadn't seen before was raised into the air. Sül! The gifted rushed towards him but the invisible hand stopped him.

'Later. Wait here because I will put him in a safe place first. Do not move.'

He disappeared like a ghost. Caradhar couldn't believe he had been left behind without any news of the Shadow. Put him in a safe place, he had said... That ought to mean he was still alive...

Minutes became eternal until he felt the pressure of a hand on his shoulder. He turned to what he thought it would be the elf's face and asked with harsh voice:

'Tell me what happened to...'

The elf simply ignored him and lifted him as if he were a child. The gifted was embarked on the most maddening ride of his life, hanging down like a pack over the city roofs that passed at high speed under his gaze. He looked down and only made out dark shadows, and occasionally the void under him when the elf leapt an apparently impossible distance.

The ride ended besides the wooden shutters of an attic. Upon stepping on solid ground he felt a bit giddy, but not for long, because a small candle was lit up and Sül's body appeared at his feet. He quickly knelt besides him.

'Take care of him. I'll be back soon.'

The shutters were closed from outside but Caradhar didn't pay them attention, because he was examining his fallen companion. Sül was pale, yet when he opened his clothes to see the spot where he had received the sword thrust he found it covered with dry blood, but unhurt. The Shadow's chest went up and down faintly; he was breathing...

Caradhar breathed as well, closing his crimson eyes, and dropping his head until his forehead softly rested on Sül's. Did that elf use his blood to close the wound? His strength seemed to abandon him but he didn't care; he lay down besides the dark-haired elf and tried to keep himself awake, watching the rhythm of his breath.

He opened his eyes facing the deep darkness of Sül's ones, who was lying in front of him, his hand gently diving inside his red hair. He was looking at him in such a way that any other person would have felt intimidated by the immensity of that tide; as always it was his calmed fire the one that won the duel, and the Shadow had to lower his gaze and move his lips closer to hide his confusion. The contact was intense and soft at the same time, like a first kiss, where the most genuine desire was tempered with the caution of inexperience. The hand went even deeper inside the messy locks; the tongues became more daring; Sül pulled his partner close and squeezed him...

'At any other moment I wouldn't have thought of interrupting, except to ask you to make a bit of room for me, but we are in a city under siege, sirs. Just in case you forgot.'

They both turned towards the end of the room, where the voice with the foreign accent came from. That tall and dark apparition calmly walked towards them, opened one of the shutters letting some light in and dropped a bag of provisions on the floor and a book with leather covers at Caradhar's feet. Although none of them noticed the items: they were too busy studying the newcomer, and it was Sül's first time. He kept a vague memory of a tall silhouette moving over him while he had been dying on the floor. He wasn't very wrong: that had to be one of the most impressive figures he had ever seen. He couldn't understand those clothes that didn't leave much to imagination, nor the fact that he didn't seem to carry any equipment, but the truth is that his face was really attractive. There was something extremely familiar about him; it took him some time to realise that hair and eyes colour was very uncommon in Argailias and he only knew two persons who... He frowned and looked at Caradhar, but what he saw made him knit his eyebrows even more, because the gifted's expression wasn't as cold as usual.

The elf noticed his gazes and grinned.

'Do you see anything you like? I've spent a long time seeing... many things I like. You know it, right, Sül?' The Shadow pursed his lips. 'Except yesterday. Your rescue entrance was a foolish show, something like lifting a sleeping dragon's tail to try to sodomise him... and I wasn't expecting much from a failed Darshi'nai. As for you,' he looked at Caradhar, 'good try, but it could have been better: your carelessness almost got him killed.'

'Listen, you bloody son of a bitch...!' Sül stood up, enraged, and came up against the elf, although he was much taller. 'If I'm alive's thanks to him! Where the fuck were you while that spy used his dirty tricks on me?'

'If I had shown up we'd probably be dead now. That alchemist's order also affected me. Good thing he fainted, or else I couldn't have finished that northern Darshi'nai.'

'And how did you carry out that exploit?' mocked Sül. 'No doubt your tricks are better than his...'

'He had taken cover behind the boy.' The elf intensely stared at Sül. 'I had to throw a javelin... through him.'

'You did what...?'

'Leave it, Sül,' intervened the gifted, standing up. 'He did what he had to, and then took care of you while I was unconscious. He's right, no point in discussing.' The Shadow's gaze became slightly tormented. 'Are you a Shadow under Elore'il's command?'

'I'm not a Darshi'nai, boy.'

'Who are you then? Do you have a name?'

'It isn't the best moment to tell you who I am; we must return to Argailias, where someone who masters words better than me will explain everything.'

'Someone who masters words better than you?' sarcastically said Sül. 'Hard to believe...'

'It's true, I shouldn't go too far with my modesty; words are nothing but one of my gifts. And you can't imagine the other things I can do with my tongue, Sül...' Before the Shadow could retort with a curse, the elf continued. 'Get some rest and eat some food, because we have to wait until night time to get out. It would be child's play for a Darshi'nai and for me, but we have our striking friend to take care of. I'll go and prepare the best escape route.'

Caradhar noticed the book on the floor for the first time and bent down to pick it up.

'What's this?'

'The alchemist's book of formulas. You wouldn't want it to fall to northern hands, right? After all it was one of your reasons to allow them to drag you here.'

The gifted turned the pages with total indifference. Like most of veteran alchemists Darial had written his notes in an extraordinarily hard to decipher way, and they were often of little use if someone snatched them. The young elf was well aware of it.

'They needed their author if they wanted to make the best of them,' continued the elf, 'which is why that Darshi'nai had to work hard to convince the alchemist. Of course, he had some other incentives in mind...' He looked at Caradhar speculatively and displayed a cheeky smile. 'Well, you'll have to admit you couldn't have got too far without me. I deserve a reward.'

'What reward?' suspiciously asked Sül.

'Nothing much, take it easy.' The elf kept staring at the gifted. 'I feel curious about trying something that seems to be very appreciated, despite you could use a bath. What about a kiss?'

Caradhar held his gaze without turning a hair, but the angry Shadow stepped between them, pushing the extremely tall foreigner.

'Listen, arsehole: if you think that...'

'Calm down. If you don't want me to claim my reward from there, I'll simply get it somewhere else.'

The elf's eyes pierced Sül's. The Shadow looked back, confused: those dark wine coloured eyes... They weren't naive like the Maede's but deep and hypnotic like... Neharall's. Fear and attraction at the same time. He wished to walk back but felt unable to move even the hand that rested on that stranger's chest; he didn't resist either when he lowered his head and stuck his lips to his, and softly slid the tongue between them...

Somehow the spell was broken. Sül pushed him violently and drew a dagger, decided to leave a painful souvenir on him if he dared to approach him again. The elf didn't try, just curved his lips into an enigmatic smile.

'See you tonight. By the way, I do have a name: Vira.'

He disappeared. An ashamed Sül turned to Caradhar, but the gifted didn't seem to be bothered. His face was as inexpressive as always, and his gaze was slightly lost. The Shadow couldn't help but feeling frustrated before his lack of reaction. Didn't he care at all? If that one had been you, I...

Caradhar sat down on the floor again, flexing his legs and holding his knees.

'I killed him, Sül. Darial.'

'I wish I could have done it myself.' He knelt besides him. 'You can't imagine how much I'd have liked it...'

'I didn't wish it. I just did it because I thought you could be dead. I don't want to have to kill anyone else; they never allow me to forget it.'

All the irritation the Shadow was feeling disappeared instantly. He placed his hand on the gifted's cheek and made him turn his face towards him.

'Forgive me, Adhar. I promise I won't allow it to happen again. But please, don't walk away from me again, 'cause I can't stand it. Neither for your mother, nor for the Maede, nor for the House... Please...'

Caradhar kissed him. Sül was afraid he would notice that elf's strange flavour, until he remembered he couldn't taste anything. His fears disappeared soon; it had been many days since he had felt that skin and smelled that scent, and he didn't care about anything else: the stranger who called himself Vira, the danger surrounding them, the travel they'd have to face. They were together, and that was all he needed, and by the gods that he desired to be inside him, if he was allowed. Without breaking the kiss he leant forward little by little until he made the redhead lie on his back, flanking his head with both forearms and surrounding his hips with his legs. The gifted moved his mouth away.

'I'm covered in blood.'

'I couldn't care less.'

***

That night three figures ventured to cross the city walls, securely watched in fear of a southern attack. Big fires were burning up the watchtowers and there were bowmen positioned along the whole perimeter. Vira guided the other two to the point where the river went through the thick walls. It was kept under continuous surveillance, but it was the best and fastest solution.

Sül's anger against the stranger had been soothed thanks to the day he had spent with Caradhar; still he was suspicious of him and, no point in denying it, embarrassed for what had happened. Once the elf had come back to the attic with clean clothes for both of them, and while he waited patiently until they got ready to follow him, the Shadow had asked:

'And where's your equipment?'

'I don't need it.'

'What? And your weapons?'

'Calm down, Sül. I carry with me everything I need.'

The Shadow had frowned. No matter how he looked at them, those 'clothes' left no place to hide anything. Anything at all...

They arrived to their destination. A hole big enough for them to cross it allowed the water in. The grille protecting it seemed secure, but Vira said he had already taken care of it. The place was well lit up, with five Northerners on guard, and that without counting the ones periodically patrolling along the wall. Vira pointed at a far, darker area.

'Go there and manage to get one of the guards' attention, and when you... neutralise him I'll take care of the rest. Keep an eye on the patrol of the wall, just in case, although I calculated correctly the time intervals we have available.'

'You'll take care of four before one of them can raise the alarm,' sceptically stated Sül. 'Right...'

'I'd do it with the five of them but the movement is more fluid with four.'

'And you'll do it without weapons.'

Caradhar was starting to regret spending the day kissing and cuddling and not updating the Shadow. He looked at his companion and nodded. Sül shut up, not really convinced, but went to wait at the indicated place. When the wall guards were in the optimal position, some noise attracted one of the guards below, who went to have a look. Sül took care of him in no time, so he didn't miss the show.

He watched in awe the dark silhouette that materialised out of thin air, right at the back of two of the guards, and its strange transformation into an elf. He saw two stylised daggers appearing in his hands, that became two blurs almost impossible to follow while they slit their throats; the daggers instantly flew and sank into the other two guards' throats, who could only gurgle before they fell, almost at the same time as his two comrades. The elf vanished again, reversing the process, and an invisible shape seemed to disturb the surface of the water. Both observers knew that was the signal to follow Vira, although it was hard for Sül to react because he couldn't assimilate what he had just seen: no Darshi'nai he ever heard about had been able to...

Caradhar's figure entering the water and looking back with a puzzled expression shook him out of his engrossment. He ran after the gifted and they swam towards the grille, that was being pulled by some strength they couldn't see; the three forced it open to allow them to slide through it, get inside the conduct and reach the other side, where they repeated the process.

They had no time to lose; soon the bodies would be discovered and they would be given chase. They had to cover as much distance as possible to get to the forest and throw them off the scent.

***

The road back to Argailias was again exhausting for Caradhar and Sül, but still an improvement compared to the one there. As for Vira he seemed to have disappeared; from time to time he would make himself noticed to give them directions but he would be gone soon.

As soon as they could the elves got hold of a couple of mounts and continued the rest of the way on horseback. When they finally got to the gates of the elven town, twenty-two days had passed since they had started their journey... It was night and nothing could be heard. Only the lights of the city and the wall watchers were seen.

'You'll want to go back and inform Elore'il of your return,' whispered Vira upon appearing besides them.

'Elore'il can wait; what I want to know right now is what you have to tell us,' declared Caradhar decisively.

'I see. Follow me then; there is someone you should know.'

They didn't frequent the circle of the city outskirts right before the Ditch. That was where Vira's voice guided them, and after many turns they found themselves in front of a very normal-looking door; the door was opened in front of them and closed and locked once they were inside. A silhouette in an even more intense shade of black blended with the darkness reigning in the place. They followed it.

They both had good eyesight, and when their eyes got used to the lack of light they could make out it was an unpretentious, humble house that didn't seem to be used often. But when Vira guided them to one of the rooms at the back...

At least two dozens of candles lit the small room, giving it a yellow brightness. There was no furniture, just carpets and tapestries where green colour was dominating all the rest, cushions on the floor and a thick curtain that hid the only window from view. It was strange, like a corner that belonged somewhere else transported to an alien place. Vira drew back the curtain and jumped on the windowsill with the indolence of a feline, one leg flexed, the other one dangling: a huge, dark panther. But the Argailians' attention was focused on the other occupants of the room.

Standing in the middle there was an elf. He was strong and tall, yet not as much as Vira. His brown eyes shone in the candlelight, and his long mane of the same colour was tied up in several braids with green and brown leather strings. Besides him, a petite and beautiful female elf with cinnamon-coloured hair was sitting on a cushion; she observed the newcomers with an intense, kind gaze and her lips were displaying a sweet smile. They were both dressed in simple dark green clothes. The elf bowed his head, but she stood up and marched towards the gifted, raising her head to study his features carefully. Although she had already reached the age to be paired, she was delicate like a little girl, and when her slender fingers stroked the young elf's cheek they did it in such a gentle way that Caradhar didn't even think of resisting.

'I so much wished to look at you closely...' she said, with a voice that sounded like Vira's but warm and rich like honey, and seemed to talk straight to his thoughts. Then she turned to Sül. 'And at you as well, Sül. I wished for so long...' She bowed to the Shadow, with her right hand resting on its side over her heart: an ancestral elven gesture to apologise. 'And I hope you will also offer me your repentance some day.'

'Why... why are you apologising? And why should I do it?' asked the dark-haired elf, confused. And it was then when he noticed her eyes were the same dark whine colour as Vira's... and Neharall's.

'Sit down, please,' she offered, pointing at two cushions besides hers, 'and allow us to introduce ourselves. You already know Vira; this is Ulmeh, ' the elf bowed again, 'and I am Dainhaya. We have observed you for a long time, Caradhar, yet we never had ill intentions towards you; you both.'

'I know from experience that sending a spy to trail someone uses to be up to no good,' remarked Sül, frowning and peeking at Vira, 'and specially one like him... with those tricks I don't know how he pulls out of his sleeve...'

'It was necessary; we didn't know the kind of elf you were, Caradhar. And once we found out we couldn't find the right moment to reveal ourselves and prove to you we weren't your enemies.'

'Even if we accepted that you weren't our enemies,' reluctantly said Sül, 'who are you then? And what do you want from him?'

Ulmeh's eyes turned to the Shadow, full of censure; Dainhaya smiled instead.

'Caradhar, my mother was your grandmother's sister. We are blood relatives; the elf who fathered you, who was given the name of Neharall by the Darshi'nai, was my cousin.' The gifted's gaze grew cold, and as for Sül, he could hardly believe what he was hearing. 'I understand my words don't sound reassuring but you must allow me to tell you the whole story. Will you?'

It was difficult to deny the little female with the warm voice anything. Caradhar didn't answer but seemed to be willing to listen. Dainhaya continued.

'For so many years that I can't get to count them my people lived isolated, decided not to have anything to do with humans or their elven allies. They completely hid their existence, convinced that was the only way to survive. There was no remorse, nor yearning, nor looking behind: they simply lived the way they thought elves should live, the way they had been doing it since they awakened to the light filtering among the trees, by the grace of the forest goddess.'

'It was a time in which old wounds started to heal. I know for you and most of the people around us Master Therendas was the human who brought science to a barbarous and chaotic period, but I assure you my people never regarded it that way. They never forgot what he did to our ancestors, nor what he deprived them of, as you did. Many trees grew big, circle after circle, and many died, and they could never stop remembering.'

'But then they regained hope because the ancient blood started to run again through the newborns' veins. It was a small, weak flame at start, but it was warm and its brightness spread little by little. Until they discovered what had initially lit it and couldn't help but marvelling, because it had been so close during all those years yet in a place where nobody would have dreamt of looking for it.'

'I can't understand shi... a word of what you say,' mumbled Sül. Ulmeh's eyes pierced him again.

'I mean what holds the tapestry of the world together, Sül; the Loom weavers' Gift; I mean...'

'Magic,' interrupted Caradhar. 'You mean magic. But magic was a wild talent that disappeared from earth too many years ago. It is nothing but a myth, a story to entertain kids...'

Vira smiled. He raised his hand and summoned, one after another, six throwing blades that he fanned out between his fingers. He stretched his arm and threw them at Ulmeh so fast that the movement was impossible to follow. But the blades didn't hit their target: they seemed to crash into an invisible shield that surrounded the brown-haired elf, and floated in the air forming a circle, and then a perfect vertical line. The elf held out his hand and the blades fell on it with a harmless tinkling, and then vanished.

'Tell me if Darshi'nai teach you this, Sül,' said Vira. 'And you, Caradhar, tell me if there are potions that allow you to do these things.'

Vira's appearance changed in that peculiar way until he became a perfect copy of Lord Navhares in his rich wedding clothes; Caradhar stiffened, and Sül opened his incredulous eyes wide. The fake Maede smiled.

'A big happy family,' he said, in a voice no-one could have distinguished from his model, before his body turned once more into that display of dark lines and then himself again.

'I assure you magic exists, Caradhar,' Dainhaya said softly, 'and never ceased to be. We are all weavers, and you carry it in your blood. It's your heredity.'

'I... I'm only a gifted. That isn't magic, there are others like me... Who... who are you? Who's your people?'

'We have the ancient blood, Caradhar, we are the ones who decided not to get infected with the poison of alchemy. We always inhabited the forests that you call of the Ancient Race, because that's what we are. We are the Silvans.'

It wasn't easy to see the gifted confused, but the truth is that he was almost stammering. Sül was divided between his amazement at everything he had just seen and heard, despite the number of things he couldn't understand, and his concern about Caradhar.

'We found out what was making magic strong again,' continued the female, 'and tried to make it ours, to erase any kind of contamination from our blood. Our clan was the discoverer, and soon we acquired fame of possessing the best weavers amongst all the clans that live in the forest. And it is true that more talented children are born in our community than in the rest, and our blood is requested from very far away.'

'We are strong, but some of our wise elves stated there had to be a way of intensifying the heredity of our ancestors even more, and turning our backs on our relatives from outside the forests wasn't the answer. Alchemy corrupted the ancient blood but you must know, Caradhar, that even here it flows pure and strong nowadays, at least until it is drowned by the effects of potions. Do you know how? In your veins; through the gifted elves' veins. Among my people there are many weavers but no gifted. And that ought to mean something: it had to mean the very gods were giving us a clue, that our blood and the outside blood had to be one.'

'It proofs that purity can only stem from mixing.'

Dainhaya paused. Her countenance and voice turned slightly melancholic.

'Your grandmother was a great weaver, a healer as good in her own way as mighty your Gift is, Caradhar. In her time my people started to observe the elves of Argailias in secret, specially the gifted. Despite being pregnant your father's mother joined one of those expeditions wishing to have a close look at those relatives we'd been such a long time separated from. They say there was none able to guide her through the path of caution except her partner, maybe, but he belonged to another clan and was very far away. We seldom take partners among our own clan: endogamy weakens blood and ours is in great demand from outside...'

'We don't know what happened. My mother told me your grandmother was separated from the small group and got lost in the city. She felt her panic and confusion, because she couldn't speak your language, and her angst when she was captured by some strange elves dressed in dark clothes that locked her up in the shadows, unable to understand but some of her words...'

Sül swallowed. He was starting to understand where all that was leading to. His red-haired companion only listened, his face serious and concentrated.

'They searched for months. Both sisters shared a psychic bond, but they couldn't know where she was. The elves holding her were the masters of secrets, as you can imagine. When the time to give birth arrived she had to do it alone. My mother shared each and every of her pains, for her talent to heal others was remarkable but the gods hadn't granted her with keeping even if a little for herself. She offered everything she had for the child to be born healthy, and then she died.'

'My mother almost went mad, but she had to pull herself together because she still had a thread to hold, the thin thread that bound her to that newborn baby, woven through her union with his mother. And she clung on to it with all her power.'

'It was truly disheartening. Of all the possible destinies, of all the chances, the baby had had to fall in the hands of the only people that wouldn't allow him to go out under the sun. My mother knew he was in the city; she knew he was alive; but she didn't know where nor how he looked like. She held the thread for many years, until her strength abandoned her and she died, and I took her place together with Vira and another of our companions. Yes, we spent a good part of our lives hidden in this city. We learnt to appreciate it and also to hate it, because the forest goddess knows I hated it with all my heart when we found Neharall's corpse. That would be the first and the last time my cousin would walk under the light without hiding.'

Sül lowered his head. He couldn't help but feeling remorse for what he had done. He always did, but now that he knew the story it was as if a dagger had pierced his stomach and were being twisted inside of him. And the worst of all, the most painful... was that he was sure he would do it again. Between his adoptive father and that red-haired elf sitting besides him, and even if that tore him apart, there was no other possible choice.

'Calm down, Sül: I know what you're thinking,' she said softly, 'and I know why you did it. He had been the reason of my mother's existence, and then mine, and I confess I wanted revenge then. Among our weavers there are a handful capable of looking into the eyes of the dead and obtain images from them. They guided us to you. And you weren't in the shadows, not anymore.'

'I couldn't hate you when I knew you, Sül. The things he had done to you since he took you in...' The female looked at him with sorrow. 'I felt I owed you an apology in the name of my blood. But still...'

Then Sül understood her words when she apologised. He pursed his lips and repeated the apologetic gesture, deeply bowing his head.

'I'm so sorry I caused you that pain. I wish it could have been different. But I can't lie to you: my choice would still be the same.'

'No, you can't lie to me, and I know you're sincere and that's why I forgave you, Sül.' The female elf displayed a sad smile.

'But I don't understand... You say you knew me, but I... It's the first time I ever see you...'

'My talent is telepathy, as my mother's one was. When we knew who you were I only needed to look at you once to weave your threads, and my connection to Caradhar is specially strong because we share the same blood. I couldn't... I couldn't keep crying for Neharall's death. I had to accept that the gods' decision had been wise, because through his lifeless eyes we could reach his blood... Do you understand? That time, of all the possible destinies, of all the chances... Neharall had fallen in love with a female elf and had fathered a son. A son with the Gift.'

'Think of the tiny little hope anyone could cherish of something like that happening. I think you can't imagine it. It was the gods' answer that proved we were on the right track.'

Caradhar didn't bat an eyelid. Sül had felt deeply moved, but the gifted hadn't showed any emotion or pronounced any word at all.

'Since you have the Gift, and despite the fact that you devoted a good deal of time to alchemy,' she continued, 'your body is clean of potions because you never needed them and they weren't given to you. I wish we could say the same about... Navhares. It breaks my heart knowing that someone of our blood depends so much on alchemy that we doubt he could survive without it. What your mother did to him... There's nothing we can do,' she sighed, 'and his position and his descendants tied him up to Argailias. But you...'

'Wait a minute...' interrupted Sül again. 'Are you trying to say you want to take Caradhar with you, to wherever you're hiding?'

'Him and yourself if that's your wish, Sül. I know you both aren't happy here. I don't know if you will be able to change your mind about alchemy, Caradhar, but I assure you the weavers' might is even bigger and more gratifying. And you have it in you, even if you were only capable of releasing a small part... You don't have to give us a definitive answer now. We just want to show you where you come from and what we can offer you. You will have the chance, both of you, to know a place you will be able to call home for the first time in your lives.'

Sül looked at his companion from the corner of his eye. His instincts told him that female didn't lie, and her offer was so tempting... He was dying to know Caradhar's opinion.

'There's something else,' stated the gifted with cold voice. 'I don't think pure fraternal bonds are the only reason behind all this. There's something else you want from me, isn't there?'

Dainhaya looked at him with seriousness. She knew the young elf had barely developed his talent, but he had hit the nail on the head. The cause might as well be his natural distrust, but... She wondered if the few reasons they had given him to trust them would be enough. She could wait, she told to herself. She could be patient and he might come to them out of his own free will, and trust in them, and feel he couldn't deny them anything they asked from him. But she couldn't do that to the boy, not after the life he had been leading.

'Your blood, that comes from mixing and possesses the highest purity,' said she. 'You're one of us, and same as we do, that's what we want you to share, Caradhar.'

'I don't get it...' said Sül nervously, yet those words had sounded ominous to him.

'We want you to father children with our people.'

The Shadow turned pale. He clenched his fists and turned his face to his partner, but the redhead seemed undeterred. You can't accept, he thought. No, please, not again... I beg of you, Adhar, I don't care if I have to stand anything else, but not this...

'No,' declared the gifted, emotionless, and Sül felt he was recovering the breath that had been taken away from him. 'I'm not doing it. If you know everything about me you will also know I've already been through that and what I think about it. I know nothing about magic but I can't see why I should do something like that for the sake of it. So what will you do now? Will you forcefully drag me there and make me do it?'

Sül became tense. He didn't think Dainhaya were that kind of elf, but if there was so much at stake for them...

'If that were our intention, don't you think we would have done it already? You're my blood. I would never take a gifted away against his will, and least of all you.'

'Good. In that case I guess there's nothing else to say.'

The redhead stood up and Sül imitated him, springing to his feet. Vira was looking down and the shadow of a smile fluttered across his lips.

'Caradhar,' she said, 'this won't change the fact that you are who you are. We will never force you to do anything and won't turn our backs on you either. You are one of us.'

'I already heard those words before. Let's go, Sül.'

Both elves left the room. Inside the female elf's head Vira's voice resounded, with a slight touch of smugness.

(I told you. I told you he wouldn't accept. Hell, I wouldn't have accepted myself.)

(I know, she answered, I don't need you pointing that up to me. But I couldn't act differently.)

(What's your plan now?)

(Insisting. Until I have no choice but leaving.)

(Right. The duty of joining your fiancé calls you...)

(At least I do my duty, Vira.)

She grew thoughtful. It's true she hadn't expected things to be easy, so the interview hadn't taken her by surprise. Nevertheless what had impressed her the most hadn't been that, but the feelings inspired by those two young elves' minds. Of course it wasn't the first time she had dived deep inside them, but never so intensely.

Entering Sül's mind was a tortuous experience. The Shadow was a passionate elf, who had known violence in his life in many different ways. His hands had been often stained with blood, including Neharall's, but he had never been indifferent: he was capable of experiencing remorse and compassion.

But what really touched her heart was the deep feeling that dominated the elf's thoughts: the blindest, mightiest, most breathtaking love... It was so warm it almost burnt, so deep it drowned. She had never felt that way, and had no idea if she should be envious or scared.

Now, Caradhar's mind... Gods, it wasn't something she could brave frequently. It was like a door ajar, and through the gap she could catch a glimpse of a desolate wasteland, in which there was a single bush offering shelter. There was something so bleak in that vision that Dainhaya had to withdraw quickly because she was overwhelmed with dejection.

And the gifted had lived his whole life trapped inside that arid landscape.

***

Caradhar was received with open arms in House Elore'il. Dame Corail made sure he rested but then she asked for a detailed account of what had happened. The young elf dropped Darial's book of formulas in her hands and his story was as short as possible... and skipped any mention of Vira's part in it. The female brushed the book cover, deep in thoughts.

'And so, that spy was a northern Shadow?' she asked.

'Yes. Do not underestimate their Darshi'nai, Corail, specially if they're able to resist your potions,' he answered coldly. His mood wasn't good after his interview with the Silvans.

'And Sül was able to defeat him? Admirable... considering for so long he has been nothing but an... escort.'

'Maybe you should start to appreciate him fully.'

'Of course. If he was able to save your life by risking his, believe me when I tell you I am indebted to him.'

She stood up and caressed his son's cheeks. When she was leaning to kiss him, the door was opened with a bang and Lord Navhares rushed inside the room, ran towards the gifted and hugged him, completely oblivious of everything else. An uncomfortable Caradhar let him do, but the Maeda knit her eyebrow.

'Running away from the palace like this is a violation of protocol, Navhares. Don't you think their Highnesses will forgive you that easily.'

The boy ignored her.

***

Several days passed. Sül had kept himself on guard, waiting for the strange elves to appear again and try to convince his companion to leave with them. But they didn't: all was curiously calm. He himself had avoided to mention the subject because it terrified him that Caradhar could reconsider his position. In fact, he didn't even want to think about it.

In any case that calm soothed the redhead's cold mood, and the day he dragged the Shadow to their refuge in the Ditch it became clear to Sül that his passion hadn't waned in the least.

At nighttime a slight sound coming from the entrance woke Sül up. He had fallen asleep under the gifted, so he carefully slipped away, left the bed, wore some clothes and took his weapons, although he had the sensation he already knew who was there. He awaited. Not a sound could be heard anymore.

'Come out of there. I know it's you,' he said quietly.

'And you don't look very surprised.' Vira's voice sounded and then he became visible right away.

'Why should I? As if you'd give up so easily. But you can sod off and go back to where you came from. I'm not letting you wake him up to fill his head with bullshit.'

'In fact it was you whom I wanted to talk to.' The Shadow looked at him slightly surprised. 'I'll be as brief as you want, but it's important. I know you have some doubts you'd like to clear up.'

Sül seemed to meditate it some seconds. Then he finished getting dressed, frowning.

'I say, such a fine piece of arse.'

The Shadow turned around and snarled. Caradhar was still resting on his stomach, and his naked body was displayed in all its glory. Sül rushed to cover him with a blanket and cast a murderous glance at Vira.

'Isn't it a bit late for that?' The Silvan smiled. 'I must have seen it one hundred times... in much more interesting positions.'

Sül pushed him against the wall, because he couldn't grab those clothes and shake him. Vira seemed unimpressed.

'Did you come to piss me off? 'Cause I swear I'll...'

'I just want to talk. Please, let's go outside.'

Much to his regret, the black-haired elf calmed down at once. With a last glance to his sleeping partner he went out with Vira and closed the door.

Caradhar woke up. He was alone in the bed and the Shadow couldn't be seen anywhere. His clothes and weapons were gone, so he guessed he had had to leave for some reason. He got dressed and decided to have a look around.

The nights were lively in the Ditch. Most of the residents didn't have to go to bed early nor wake up to take care of honest, honourable jobs. The gifted wasn't used to wander around the city alone, much less around such a dangerous place, but he was curious and needed to keep his mind busy... Many faces turned to look at him when he walked inside a tavern.

'Eitheladhar?' pronounced an incredulous voice at his back.

That name... The gifted faced the speaker with fatalism. He had the feeling he knew the voice, and wasn't wrong: it was the Arestinian guard that had helped him with the abomination in Ummankor. What was his name? He couldn't remember... It was... Reskveem... It had been so long ago...

'Eitheladhar... It's you... but... they said you had died while trying to escape from prison...'

Caradhar looked around and thanked the discreet clothes he was wearing, which didn't betray the House he belonged to.

'They said you were a Misselan spy... Did you escape from prison? Was it all a trick?' The elf lost his patience in view of the redhead's silence and grabbed him by his chest. 'Answer me or...'

'Let's go to a more discreet place.' The gifted pointed at a hollow under the stairs that led to the upper floor. 'Please.'

The guard pursed his lips, grabbed the gifted's forearm and pulled towards the appointed place, holding him against the wall.

'Speak up. Are you a spy?'

'No. It's true that I found myself in the worst possible situation when that happened, but I never spied for anybody. I was just an alchemy apprentice with no idea about politics, and when I saw the opportunity to escape I seized it. I didn't want to be imprisoned or executed for something I never did. I just tried to survive... Reskveem,' he added softly. He didn't like to lie, therefore he tried to stick to the truth... as much as possible.

The elf from Arestinias looked at him sceptically.

'It is very hard to believe... We are at war with your people. I have to... I should turn you in.' He stared at his eye-catching hair, tied up in a ponytail. 'Did you dye your hair... to hide yourself?'

Caradhar dropped his eyelids. He had to get rid of that elf that could get him into trouble. If he could warn Sül...

But he couldn't. He simply couldn't do it. He couldn't kill him, after all the things that had happened. He had saved his life there in the caverns; he had risked his position for him. He wouldn't sink that low as he had done with Nestro. There had to be another way...

'Reskveem... You saved me in Ummankor. I owe you my life. You have my word I would never lie to you... Besides, I never had the chance to thank you for it. Please...'

He knew that look in the elf's eyes, and had already seen it in the past: the expectant gaze of someone who desired him... He slid his hands along his chest, until he brushed the upper part of his neck and the line of his jaw with his fingertips. He approached his lips slowly, waiting for a rejection that never happened, because the guard was staring at him hypnotised, not daring to move, nor even to breath. Under his forearm Caradhar noticed his fast heartbeat.

He caressed tentatively his lips with the tip of his tongue; a new stroke, even more intense... The elf separated them, bathing the gifted with his burning breath. The redhead ventured his tongue between those trembling arches and found a warm welcome on the other side, a warm welcome that soon turned hungry. The deeper he went into his mouth, the heavier his pantings became, until Reskveem couldn't control himself anymore and cornered him against that wall, seizing his cheeks and trapping him under his body.

'I have... I have a room upstairs...' said the guard finally, almost with embarrassment.

Caradhar nodded.

     Previous chapter                                                                                                             Next chapter