Read Source Of The River Online
Authors: Lana Axe
Source Of The River
Source of the River
Tales from N
ō
l’Deron
Lana Axe
Text copyright © 2014 Lana Axe
All Rights Reserved
Cover art by Michael Gauss
For Laura.
“Water is the softest thing, yet it can
penetrate mountains and earth.
This shows clearly the principle of
softness overcoming hardness.”
~Lao Tzu
A
s he stood
knee-deep in the water, Ryllak looked upon the lifeless form of his love. Her
expression was serene, appearing as if she only slept. Fighting back tears, he
reached out to touch her face. Before he could make contact with her skin, her
body began to fade, disappearing within the blue of the river. No longer able
to suppress the grief in his heart, Ryllak buried his face in his hands and
wept.
Yillmara, my love, my all. How shall I go on without you?
As he wept, his
hatred rose for the one who had taken her life. “Curse you, treacherous
creature!” he cried, staring into the water. “Show yourself before me!”
At his command, the
Spirit of the river immediately seized Ryllak within a sphere of blue light. Stunned,
Ryllak’s body went rigid as he braced himself against an anticipated attack. No
such attack occurred, though. Instead, Ryllak saw a vision of Yillmara in his
mind, her blue eyes sparkling and full of life.
“Yillmara,” he
whispered.
It was not her
voice but another who replied, filling his mind with these words:
Your
life-mate has chosen this path. She has traded her life for that of her child.
“Curse you for
making such a trade. You are a creature of evil.”
I have granted a
life as was asked of me.
Ryllak’s mind
thought back to the stillborn child his life-mate had brought to the river. She
had desired nothing more from life than to be a mother, and her heart had been
broken by the news that her child did not live. In his grief for Yillmara,
Ryllak had not even looked upon their child, the child who Yillmara had died to
save.
The Spirit spoke no
more, and Ryllak was released from the blue light. Tears still fresh upon his
cheeks, he returned slowly to the riverbank. Glancing once over his shoulder in
hopes of seeing his love, he beheld only the reflection of the early-morning
light as it danced upon the water. His heart heavy, he proceeded back to his
home.
Once inside, he saw
his son in the arms of a nursemaid. Silently, he stared for a moment, trying to
gather his courage. This child had cost him his life-mate, but he felt no
animosity toward him. This tiny creature had not asked to be born, and he would
have brought immense joy into Yillmara’s life.
Slowly, he
approached the nurse and stretched out his arms to take the child. With a soft smile,
the nurse handed the child to his father.
“He’s a beautiful
boy,” she stated, her face beaming.
Ryllak looked down
upon the child and into his sapphire-blue eyes. The child did not cry nor make
any other sound. Although he was too tiny to speak, the child’s expression
seemed to be telling Ryllak that all would be well. Tears filled Ryllak’s eyes
as he clutched his newborn son to his heart and kissed his forehead.
“I am your father,
and I will love you until the world has come to an end,” he declared.
The baby cooed
softly, resting peacefully in his father’s arms. The Spirit of the river had
granted his life, and much would be expected in return.
R
yllak paced impatiently as he waited for his son
to return home. The grass in front of the large silver tree was beginning to
show signs of wear as he quickly stepped back and forth. After a while, he
stopped pacing and leaned his back against the tree. The spring air was cool,
and the afternoon sun hid its face behind a thin layer of clouds. He could not,
however, enjoy the fine weather. He feared his nerves might get the better of him
when he finally told his son the truth.
Finally, River appeared in the distance carrying a
small stack of books beneath one arm. His cousin and closest friend, Galen,
accompanied him. Ryllak watched and waited as the young elves made their way
across the village. They were both tall and slender with long dark hair, and
might have been mistaken for brothers had it not been for River’s sapphire-blue
eyes. Those eyes singled him out every time as someone special among the
Westerling Elves. Blue eyes were not rare, but River’s particular sapphire hue
had never been seen before in the Vale.
As the two approached, Ryllak stood up straight
and crossed his arms. His face was stern, and his brown eyes stared intently at
his son.
“Is everything all right?” River asked, noticing
his father’s serious demeanor.
“We need to speak,” Ryllak replied.
“I think it’s time for me to go,” Galen said. He
gave River a slight shrug and raised his eyebrows as he turned to walk away.
“Good luck, River,” he added quietly.
River followed his father inside the arched
doorway of the silver tree. Inside was a spacious home that was impossibly
larger than the tree that held it. The magic of the forest supplied homes to
the elves that did not require damaging any of the trees. The elves and the
woods lived in harmony, each gladly accommodating the other.
“Sit down, Son,” Ryllak said.
He took a seat on the cushioned bench of the great
room and patted the seat next to him. River sat, but Ryllak remained silent. He
stared out the window overlooking the gardens, lost in thought. Finally he
realized he could delay no longer.
“Son,” he began, “in two days’ time, you will be
two hundred years old, and you will come of age. You will no longer be
considered a child to us, and you must take your place among our people.”
River’s eyes darted around the room as he searched
his mind for a response. He knew he was coming of age and would be expected to
take on adult responsibilities. He hoped to leave his father’s home and begin
his own life, but deciding what to do with a life of thousands of years was no
easy task for a young elf. Failing to find the right words, he remained silent.
Ryllak sighed deeply and said, “I have told you of
your mother and how she died in childbirth, but there are other things I
haven’t told you.”
River, who had been staring at the floor, looked
up at his father and stared into his eyes. He could tell what his father was
about to say was serious, and it was difficult for him to say it.
“What is it, Father?” he asked after a few moments
of silence.
Ryllak looked away from his son and said, “Your
mother was taken by the river. You were stillborn, and she traded her life for
yours.”
River was stunned by this news. Stumbling in his
words, he asked, “How? How is such a thing possible?”
Ryllak cleared his throat and replied, “The Spirit
of the river granted your life. We tried for many years to start a family, but
we never had any success until Yillmara prayed to the river for a child. That
is when you came to us, and the Spirit took her away.”
River’s eyes filled with tears for his mother, who
had given up everything for him. Her selfless love overwhelmed him, and he was
unsure how he should react. He had heard many stories of her and her sweet
nature, and he regretted not having the chance to know her. His father had
always been good to him, but not having a mother to turn to had been difficult.
“I do not know the Spirit who dwells in the
river,” Ryllak said. “It has always been there, and it protects our people. I
believe its intentions are good, and Yillmara was most willing to trade her life
for yours. Do not feel guilty that you are here and she is not. She loved you
more than words can describe.”
“But the Spirit killed her,” River replied.
“Surely that was unnecessary.”
“It takes a Spirit of immense magical power to
create a life. To grant an elven life, it must have another life freely given.
That is the only way to maintain balance.”
“Then I owe my life to this Spirit,” River
commented.
“In more ways than one,” Ryllak said. “Your mother
became pregnant immediately after praying to the river. I have loved you and
raised you as my own, but I believe the Spirit is your true father.”
A look of realization spread over River’s face.
All his life he had felt compelled to visit the Blue River and stand at the
base of the waterfall. He would stare into the flowing current for hours and
release his mind from all thoughts but water. As he neared his coming of age,
the compulsion had grown stronger. He had visited the river daily for the past
few years and felt an unknown presence around him.
“This is why the Elders have always looked at me
strangely,” he said. “I thought I was imagining it, but they already knew all
of this. They knew I was not an ordinary elf. I’m some sort of magical hybrid.
What am I, Father?” He stared at his father hoping for an answer.
After a few silent moments, Ryllak said, “You must
ask that question of the Spirit. Perhaps you will find the answers you seek within
the river.”
River sat motionless for a while. The younger
elves had always treated him as one of their own. All of his life he had
excelled at water magic, and he had simply considered himself talented. All
elves were born with magical abilities, but his heightened abilities would now
be attributed to his origin as a creature of magic. He had no desire to be
different from the other elves, but it seemed he had little choice in the
matter.
The Elders had always seemed suspicious of him
throughout the course of his magical studies. He had felt singled out from his
fellow students on many occasions. Frequently, his professors would require him
to explain exactly how he had performed a task as simple as watering an herb
garden. No one else was ever required to explain himself, but he had been
questioned and interviewed by members of the Elder Council several times. Once,
during a heavy rain, he was asked to stand beneath the drops and count them. At
the time he thought it was some sort of punishment, but he had broken no rules.
Now it was beginning to make sense.
After a while, he decided to pay the river a
visit. He saw no harm in it and hoped he might find some answers there. As he
walked through the village, he glanced around, wondering if anyone saw him
differently. Of course they had not been present to hear his father’s words,
but he could not help thinking that everyone would know the truth of his birth.
As he reached the bank, he removed his shoes and
waded down into the water. It was cool, and a soft breeze wafted gently across
its surface. The smooth rocks along the bottom provided a finely crafted
natural floor. He made his way toward the waterfall, where the river tumbles
down from its source in the mountains. The sound of the roaring water drowned
all the noise of the village and the sounds of the forest.
Standing in front of the rushing water, he gazed
into the foam, which floated lazily away from the falls. The sights and sounds
of the water had a hypnotic effect on him, and his mind began to drift. He
entered a state of calmness and surrendered his mind to the river.
A blue, swirling mist formed around his waist. The
light grew larger until he was completely encompassed by a wave of blue magic.
He welcomed the sensation, closing his eyes and lifting his arms above his
head. The Spirit had come. River could hear its voice within his mind.
Child of the river, your spirit has awakened.
Within you dwells the soul of the water, your true form. This blessing I have
given you, and in time, you must return it. Each day you will visit here at
dawn, and I will show you your path and lead you on your journey.
Who are you?
River projected with his mind.
I am the Spirit, the Soul, and the Heart.
With those words, the voice went silent, and the
blue magic faded away. As he turned to face the village, he noticed that many
of the Vale’s citizens had gathered at the bank to see what was happening. His
father was among them.
Slowly, he made his way back to the bank. As he
stepped onto the sand, his long hair, which was previously dripping with water,
became immediately dry. His long gray robe was dry as well. A few of the elves
stepped away from him, some of them gasping.
His father strode forward and wrapped an arm
around his shoulders, guiding him away from the bank. He led him back to their
home and asked, “Did you find what you needed?”
“I think so,” River replied. “There are many
things I need to learn. The Spirit in the water is going to teach me.”
Ryllak nodded and patted his son’s shoulder. He
knew River would change when he came of age, but he had no idea how much. A
bright future awaited him, that much was certain. He would be there to help in
any way a father could.
