The Blade Heir (Book 1) (14 page)

Lucius gently pushed the door opened and entered a large, lavishly decorated room. The walls were painted a deep green and displayed beautiful artwork in the forms of flowers and trees all throughout. Brass candelabras with intricate designs adorned all four corners of the room and a finely woven rug embroidered with an elvish oak design lay on the floor. Next to the rug there was a wicker armchair decorated with leaves, vines, and flowers. An elf with curly black hair wearing a red tunic with gold-trimmed sleeves sat in the armchair reading a leather-bound tome. A large stack of similar tomes and books were placed next to the chair. He watched the elf, who showed no interest in acknowledging Lucius or Siegfried's presence, and noticed he wore a silver necklace with a symbol hanging from it. The symbol consisted of a large circle with a triquetra at the center. The curves and whorls of the triquetra and circle interlocked together in a complicated but elegant pattern.

"Are you Lumiath?" Siegfried asked, a hint of impatience in his voice.

The elf turned a page and did not respond to the question.

"We don't mean to disturb you, my lord, but we've traveled far to meet you," Lucius spoke as cordially as possible despite his growing annoyance. "This is my brother, Siegfried Silverhart, and I am—"

"Lucius Nostra from Evingrad," the elf snapped his book shut and studied them for a moment. "I know who you are and why you have come. I am a seer after all."

"So you are Lumiath, then," Siegfried said. "The man downstairs did not wish to reveal your residence here, why?"

"I am a private soul, Master Siegfried, and I do not like to be bothered by curious gossips who think they know who I am. Theodore and I have an agreement: I provide him with the recipes to his unguents and elixirs; he in turn allows me to reside here in quiet solitude." Lumiath leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment, as though he wished to be alone again.

"I have many questions, Master Lumiath," Lucius said. The elf opened his eyes and looked at him.

"Of course you do. You are a man who has lived with elves his entire life. But be careful, my young lord. Questions have answers you may not wish to hear," Lumiath warned.

Lucius brushed off the warning and cut to the point. "Am I the
Ellyllei
? The one foretold in the prophecy to face the Black Dragon?"

"Yes," Lumiath replied nonchalantly. "You are the Elf Son who is burdened with carrying the Requiem Sword to kill a great evil. Pardon my saying this, but I do not envy your role in the least."

Lucius exhaled deeply and felt a sudden emptiness in his stomach. I have to kill Kraegyn. He swallowed hard, trying to think of his next question, which Siegfried asked before he could.

"Do you have instructions for how to forge the Requiem Sword?" Siegfried asked.

"I do not. Not anymore," the seer responded in a bored monotone.

"What do you mean? Have you forgotten?" Lucius questioned.

"Ha! Of course not. The means of forging the sword does not lie with me, but you already know where to go for the answer to that particular question."

"The blacksmith near the Burning Woods." Siegfried glanced at Lucius, who arrived at the same conclusion.

"Astute, like your father," Lumiath said, clasping his hands together and placing them on his chest.

"You know our father?" Lucius asked.

"Of course. Why else would he defend my reputation and risk losing his seat in the Cyngorell? We are old friends, and we hold beliefs that many D'aryan elves would consider heretical."

"My father would never embrace heresy." Siegfried crossed his arms.

Lumiath grinned. "Let us speak more of it over a cup of tea." The seer grabbed a long walking staff resting on the side of his chair and hoisted himself up. When Lumiath stood, Lucius' mouth fell open when he noticed the elf was missing his right foot. Despite the disability, Lumiath walked as gracefully as any elf, with the aid of the staff to support his weight.

He walked over to a small hearth nestled in the wall directly behind the armchair. A black kettle hung on a lug pole over the fire and it began to whistle softly as Lumiath grabbed it. The seer leaned his staff on the mantle of the fireplace while balancing on his foot. He poured the steaming liquid into two teacups sitting on the mantle and then hung the kettle back onto the lug pole. Grasping both teacups in his left hand and the staff in his right, Lumiath walked over to them with little effort.

"Please sit," Lumiath said, gesturing with his head to the rug on the floor.

Siegfried and Lucius both sat on the rug cross-legged as the D'aryan exile handed them their tea.

"I hope you enjoy ginger tea, Lucius," Lumiath said.

"Oh, I love ginger tea, it's—" Lucius remembered to whom he was speaking. "You already know it's my favorite tea, of course."

"Naturally." Lumiath sat in his wicker chair with an obnoxious grin on his face.

"You implied my father is a heretic; tell me why," Siegfried demanded, unimpressed by Lumiath's sense of humor.

"Lucius, tell me what you know about D'arya," Lumiath asked, plucking a flower from his chair and sniffing it.

"Well, I know she was once the queen of all the elves and ruled with a gentle hand. She attained great power at a young age and through powerful magic became an eternal spirit. She guides all the elves who worship her." Lucius sipped his tea, unsure how the question was relevant to their father.

"And the elves do worship her, as I once did. But herein lies the truth, my friends. D'arya is not a deity to be worshipped. I know it and your father knows it," Lumiath said, twirling the flower between his forefinger and thumb.

"You speak heresy. My father does not believe that."

"Are you so certain, Siegfried? Have you ever heard your father recite a song to D'arya like the other elves of Evingrad? Is he not always at odds in some way with the Cyngorell's decisions? Did he not, after all, send his sons on a perilous quest to find a seer who is despised for his peculiar views and an outcast to his own people?"

Siegfried furrowed his brows tightly and looked into his teacup, deep in thought.

Lucius could not remember a time when his father sang a song to D'arya or even attended one of the festivals held in her honor. And most of the heated debates within the Cyngorell were usually started by Helmer. Of course, Siegfried might know something to the contrary, since he knew their father for much longer, but his hesitation to answer the question surprised Lucius.

"Siegfried, your father is a wise elf living amongst a people that has never really understood truth," Lumiath said.

"And you understand truth?" Lucius set his teacup on the floor, losing his excitement for the hot drink.

"I do, young Nostra. Let me enlighten the both of you in regards to D'arya," Lumiath said, tossing the flower in his hand aside. He leaned forward in the armchair with a stern expression on his face. "It is true that D'arya was a queen and that she acquired great power that elevated her to the likes of a demigod. However, there is not an elf alive in Azuleah who knows from where she received this power."

"Except for you." Siegfried glared at the seer, growing tired of his arrogance.

"Me and your father, Siegfried," Lumiath corrected. "D'arya received her power from an all-powerful entity the elves have largely ignored for millennia. The power to become an immortal spirit was a gift to D'arya for her humility and charity, given by a higher being. The irony is D'arya herself does not want to be worshipped. Her role is that of a leader, pointing the elves toward a greater power who is worthy of worship."

"What greater power?" Siegfried clenched his jaw muscles tight.

"Yéwa," Lumiath whispered.

Lucius' eyes widened at the sound of the name. He recalled everything he read earlier in the red scroll regarding Yéwa's role as Creator of all mankind, but the scroll contained nothing about D'arya. Siegfried stood up from the rug and walked slowly towards the door. He stopped short and stared out into the hallway, contemplating the significance of Lumiath's words.

"Do you see this symbol, Lucius?" Lumiath pointed to the triquetra hanging from his silver necklace.

"Yes, what about it?" Lucius asked. He scrutinized the symbol and noticed the triquetra in the center was gold, contrasting with the overlapping silver circle.

"This symbol represents the triune entity known as Yéwa. He is creator, king, and spirit—Yéwa, Yesu, and Ysbryd. You already know this, Lucius. You've read the red scroll Helmer gave you."

"I have read most of it, and I am troubled by the fact that King Yesu died in such a violent manner. I thought he was the son of Yéwa. How could he be killed by mere mortals, and why didn't his father save him?"

"It is troubling, no doubt—a son of an all-powerful God chained to a tree and speared to death by men," Lumiath sighed, turning his face upward to the ceiling. "But do not be anxious, young Nostra. The time will come when divine mysteries will be revealed to you."

Lucius frowned, unsatisfied with the seer's answer. "Well, if you're going to be coy about Yéwa, then at least tell me about my family. Are any of them still alive?"

"And how would I know that?"

"You are a seer of D'arya, are you not? Enough games, tell me!" Lucius cried.

Lumiath stood from his chair and grabbed his staff to steady himself. He walked over to the place Lucius sat on the rug and towered over him. At first, Lucius thought the elf might strike him, but to his surprise, Lumiath knelt down beside him. The elf's haggard features were more visible when the seer's face was mere inches away from Lucius.

"I am a seer, but not of D'arya as you no doubt have surmised," Lumiath's voice lowered to a whisper. "Your true family is out there, Lucius; they are alive. However, I would counsel you to choose your path wisely. You can choose to seek your family or forge the Requiem Sword."

Lucius swallowed hard. "And is there no other road open to me?"

"There are always roads open to you, young Nostra." Lumiath rose to his feet and his voice rose simultaneously. "Just be wary which roads you choose to travel. Now go, your brother is tired of my ramblings, and a blacksmith awaits your arrival."

Lumiath strode back to his chair, sat down, and picked up the same tome he read when they came in. Lucius stood up and watched him for a few moments, waiting for the elf to say something more, but he continued to read as if no one else was in the room. Lucius turned to the door to join Siegfried, but his brother had already left. As Lucius entered the hallway, Lumiath's deep voice called out to him.

"Lucius." Lumiath did not take his eyes off the tome.

"Yes?"

"Tell Theodore to give you a bottle of
bywydur
. You and your brother will need it."

"What is
bywydur
?"

"Siegfried will know." Lumiath turned a page and said nothing more.

Lucius waited for any further instruction from the seer, but when he received none, he promptly walked down the hall to the stairs. Siegfried was nowhere to be seen downstairs. Theodore Greimane stood behind the counter again with his back turned to Lucius. The crotchety shopkeeper was rearranging his numerous elixirs and unguents on the shelves. Lucius slowly walked up to him, not wishing to startle the man and see him turn red again.

"Excuse me, Mr. Greimane?" Lucius spoke softly.

Theodore turned his head to the side, unsure if he had heard someone or not, but he soon noticed Lucius standing at the counter. "You again. Well, what do you want?"

"Did you happen to see my brother come through here?"

"Yes, I did. He stormed out like he heard a tale he didn't like," Theodore grunted. "Happens often when people visit the recluse upstairs."

"I see," Lucius said. An awkward silence followed, and he eventually found the courage to speak again. "Mr. Greimane—"

"Theodore," the shopkeeper corrected.

"Right, Theodore. Lumiath told me to ask you for a bottle of
bywydur
."

Theodore's eyes widened and his nostrils flared. "Oh did he now? And how do you plan on paying for the most expensive elixir stocked in my shop?"

"He didn't say anything about payment," Lucius replied, bracing for the inevitable outburst building up in Theodore.

"Of course he didn't. That elf is going to run my business into the ground!" Theodore yelled, his eyes were bulging and his turban was slightly askew.

Three loud knocks from Lumiath's staff above only worsened the vicious scowl on his face. The shopkeeper muttered something under his breath then crouched behind the counter. The sound of clinking glass could be heard as Theodore rummaged through his stock and finally set a bottle no larger than a tinderbox on the counter in front of Lucius. The green liquid within the bottle had a faint glow that mesmerized Lucius.

"Here it is. Now off with you!" Theodore barked, turning his back on him and focusing on reorganizing his shelves again.

Lucius grabbed the
bywydur
and stuffed it inside a pocket on his tunic. He bid the shopkeeper farewell, but Theodore only grunted in return.

Outside on the main street, Siegfried leaned against the brick wall of Greimane's shop scrutinizing a long piece of parchment.

"Are you alright?" Lucius asked, stepping up beside his brother.

"I am fine, Lucius." Siegfried replied, looking up at Lucius with forlorn eyes.

He refrained from asking anything further and opted to change the subject. "Theodore gave me a bottle of something called
bywydur
. Lumiath said you would know what it is," he said, pulling out the vial for his brother to see.

Siegfried's morose demeanor completely changed once he saw the bottle. "
Bywydur
? This is an incredible gift, Lucius."

"Really? Well, I have no idea what it's for."

"
Bywydur
means 'water of life' in the elven tongue. It is an elixir that revitalizes the body more than any food or drink ever could," Siegfried explained in an unfamiliar and animated voice.

"So, is it like drinking a hearty mead? I don't quite understand."