~Prologue~
Loyelene got to the window just in time to see a boulder flying through the air. It slowly revolved before it smashed into the side of the castle with a crash and a shower of rock. Her eyes hardened in worry, the Glodrian elves were getting much better at directing their loads with their jaharah, or magic. They had been repeatedly loading rocks and as many other objects that they could get there filthy hands on and catapulting it over the castle wall.
From her vantage point, Loyelene could see over the towering guard wall that surrounded the castle. A haze of gray smoke hung over the burnt landscape of what had once been a peaceful and beautiful land. Most of the trees and lush foliage had burned themselves out now, but the smell of ash still lingered. It was accompanied by the stench of death, which blew in through the turret window where Loyelene stood.
Many of her blue clad soldiers had already been slaughtered, but the worst was yet to come. A hundred yards below her, she could see the opposing army scaling the walls, while others charged the gate with a battering ram. Most of the army was made up of slimy and terrifying creatures that would normally only haunt one’s dreams. The noise they made was deafening, and hard to ignore. The suffering was almost more then she could take. But she had to be strong for her people.
Two days ago, when the real battle had begun, she’d told her five main officers not to worry, insisting that their fortress was impenetrable. She could see now that she was wrong. Very wrong. She hated to think that her words, which had meant to be comforting, were now only lies. It was not the first time she regretted living in a stone castle. All her life she had grown up in a TreeHold. The great trees served as a living castle where the inhabitances were more then safe from enemies. A stone castle was way too visible and much too easy to break.
There also was the unenviable fact that her army was outnumbered. For every hundred enemy soldiers that her army slew, another two hundred swarmed in to take their place. They might as well have been battling spirits that neither died nor left.
A shadow fell upon the castle grounds and Loyelene looked up to find a dishora swooping down from the north. It was a black, strange looking horse, with two twisting horns, one poking out its forehead and the other out the back of its head. Its two gray wings had sharp claws sticking out of the leathery skin at the joints. It also had claws on its feet, right above the hoof in the back. On the dishora’s back sat a soldier, armed with a formable sword and arrows. She watched as it came nearer and nearer, wondering when it would be stopped. As if her army had read her mind, a shower of arrows sprung into the air. Most of the arrows bounced of harmlessly on the black armor of the dishora and warrior, but some ripped into the soft flesh of the dishora’s wings. It screamed its fury and charged the arches on the high walls. Men cried out as they were run over by the formable enemy. Loyelene bit her lip, wondering where the jaharah fighters were. The solders riding dishora’s in her army were on the other side of the castle, to far away to help. Soon though, jaharah bearers came and the huge beast and its master were brought down by four other dishoras.
Cries grew louder as a shower of stones fell upon the west gates, striking many of the soldiers down.
A second catapult flipped its heavy cargo into the sky, this time consisting of rocks and charred wood. It struck the wall twenty feet below Loyelene’s window, and the castle shook under its impact. They were getting closer and closer. Too close for comfort.
Hearing Aimielen cry out behind her, she turned and left the window, and the gory picture it showed.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, its okay.” She spoke both for her daughter, and her own comfort. She was very frightened, and the effort that it took to stay calm was draining her, leaving her very weak.
Loyelene lifted her baby from its wooden cradle and held her to her chest. “Daddy will be back soon and everything’s going to be just fine.” Her voice trembled. If Amdon were there, he would know what to do. He would install confidence in the army and lead them to victory. She didn’t have his strict ability to really lead an army. Amdon would though, but he had been gone three weeks now, and Loyelene couldn’t help but fear the worst.
The disruption that swept over Baldemoore had started small, triggered by a minor incidence. Yet somehow, the uprising had turned malicious, picking up momentum and supporters until it had grown into civil war, as Amdon had called it. Yet there was nothing civil about it. It was more of a revolution, set upon ridding the land of the remaining whisperers. Someone was trying to destroy the magical line. Her family line had been destroyed, her cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles, parents, everyone, gone. And with every one of their deaths, a letter had been sent to her, explaining how he or she had died. Loyelene and taken to burning such letters, for they only caused her grief. Loyelene had her daughter were the only survivors of the dying, misunderstood race, and if the uprising people had their way, they too would be wiped out before the day’s end.
A loud crash brought Loyelene to the window once again, clutching her child. The gate was now open and armored men and women streamed into the courtyard below. Swords clashed as the two armies charged each other, with cries of anger and pain accompanying the bloodshed.
Loyelene closed the shutters and held baby Aimielen closer to her chest. Forcing a smile down at her chubby cheeked daughter, she brushed the curly black locks away from her eyes. She was a beautiful child, with the black hair and vivid eyes of a whisperer. At only four months old, she had done no wrong to anyone. Yet that wouldn’t stop the people from taking her life if given the chance. How cruel and terrible people could be. How easily one could be corrupted and ruin so many lives.
The room went dark for a moment as another dishora flew past the closed window and a flaming arrow struck the outside of the shutters. Loyelene jerked back, shielding herself and Aimielen from the heat coming from the flames. She started for the door, and the staircase that led from her room down into the depths of the castle. But the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs stopped her cold. Only many elves dressed in armor could make such a clamor. A wooden door barred the way, but that wouldn’t hold for long. She was not good with putting out fire; she’d probably make it worse.
She quickly felt for her familiar jaharah, and concentrating hard, felt the drumming inside her ribcage as a wave of whisperer magic pushed against her chest. With unwavering focus, she sent the wave through the air, causing the large cabinet that held her wardrobe to slide across the room and come to rest against the door. It left a trail of deep scratches in the wooden floor, but that was irrelevant at the moment. All she cared about was protecting her innocent child.
Placing Aimielen back inside her cradle, Loyelene pulled the cradle farther away from the burning window and then knelt beside it. The shutters over the window began to crackle with flames. Smoke billowed into the room, but it was either a burning window or enemy soldiers, she didn’t want to choose either.
Loyelene had no strength left to fight. Part of her almost wished for an end, any end. But she knew deep inside that these were just mere whispers of hopes, not real wishes.
She’d never missed Amdon more than she did at that moment. His departure had given her many restless nights, but now was the time that she needed him most. He’d gone out into the land to put an end to the uprisings. At first Loyelene had great hope in her husband’s success, but when the forests started to burn and the un-dead Rakeers had began attacking, she knew that things hadn’t gone well.
A fist pounded at the door and Aimielen’s green eyes stared up from her cradle and she waved her hands in the air, alarmed. Loyelene crooned softly to her daughter, and forced a smile. Her eyes grew moist with tears as she held her daughter’s small hand.
“Everything’s okay, sweetie,” she said as another jolt hit the door, causing the cabinet to shudder. Releasing another burst of jaharah, Loyelene formed a blue bubble around her and her daughter’s cradle. She wouldn’t be able to maintain the force field forever, but perhaps she could hold it long enough for her soldiers to fight off the dark Glodrian elves that stood outside her door. If they couldn’t save her, they might at least be able to save Aimielen so that the whisperer blood could live on. So her daughter would live on.
Her violet eyes went back and forth from the fire engulfed shutters to the banding outside her door. A slight buzzing filled her mind quite suddenly. It was a familiar sensation, one that didn’t normally fill her with such dread. Someone was trying to communicate with her telepathically, which was common among the elves of Baldemoore. But unlike other races, whisperers had the ability to prevent others from intruding their minds, and at this moment, Loyelene had no intention of allowing anyone into her mind. She swept away the pressure easily, certain that the person would merely try again. Instead, she heard a muffled voice from behind the blocked door.
“Loyelene, open up! We haven’t much time.” Even muffled, she knew the voice well; it was one of the few that she trusted.
Her mind went into a quick conflict, but she finally decided that it had to be safe. She reached for her jaharah and whispered a spell. The cabinet immediately moved away from the door. She collapsed exhausted against the cradle. She barely had enough jaharah left to lift a blade of grass. As the heavy door swung open, two surprised soldiers fell into the room. Releasing the force field, Loyelene stood as Cardin entered the room. Cardin was a powerful elf and a good fighter. Her legs were shaking and she held onto the cradle for support. The force field had taken more out of her then she had thought it would. Despite his ruffled silvery red hair and strained expression, she felt comforted by his presence.
“We’ve prepared your dishora.” His voice was heavy and full of strain. “We have to get you out of here quick.” He did not mention what would happen if they didn’t leave with haste.
“We can’t give up. If the castle falls, so does all of Baldemoore.” Loyelene said, not wanting to leave.
“We’ve already lost, El. You need to think of yourself and your child now.” He glanced worriedly at the burning window, but seemed to decide it was a minor problem.
“But the people...” Loyelene pleaded, her eyes filling with tears.
“There’s nothing you can do for the people. You and I both know that. That is why you are confined to this very room. Your jaharah is draining; you wouldn’t be able to help much. Now grab Aimielen. We’re leaving right now.”
She nodded, forced into submission. “Try to alert the unicorns that I’ve gone,” she said, almost in an inaudible voice. Cardin nodded at her request and turned to one of his men. With a single mind command, the elf nodded at Cardin then left. Then with another sharp command, the rest of the men went to the window, quickly putting out the fire.
Feeling more at ease with the fire out, Loyelene turned to face the crib, grabbed a soft blanket, and wrapped it around the now sleeping Aimielen. She sat down gratefully, she didn’t have enough energy to stand.
Cardin used his shield to knock open the burned shutters, to clear the room of smoke. Rather than swinging open, they fell from their hinges to the courtyard below, where the battle was still raging. He glanced at her apologetically but she smiled. “I never liked the window anyway.” Her words brought a smile to his face, and then it grew somber again.
“Cardin, get me my necklace.”
He nodded with the somber understanding of which necklace she meant and what she intended to do with it. He hoped she wouldn’t have to use it, yet he knew she may be left with no other choice.
Rifling through the top drawer of her cabinet, he located the necklace and handed it to her. The long, thin, silver chain sparkled with every color of the rainbow. On each side, three small amethyst beads joined with braided, golden unicorn hairs. The hairs met at a pendent that was made of the same shining silver around the edges. Then it swirled into the center over a diamond with small amethysts embedded into it. In the middle was a large jewel, which possessed every color in the world: a deilabou. It was very rare and held secrets not even its makers knew about. Harder then a diamond, clearer then quartz, and more beautiful than all gems in the world, it held great magic, for it was made with magic. Only unicorns could make a deilabou, better known as the fire stone. They would combine tiny pieces of all the gems in the world and melt them with their horns, at the same time putting magic in it. They were rare and made only when there was great need for one.
She fastened it around Aimielen’s neck and kissed her on the forehead.
“What are you going to do once you’re out of the castle?” Cardin asked.
“Whatever I have to. If Amdon is still alive, perhaps this won’t be necessary, but I must prepare for the worst.”
“Amdon is alive.”
“You’re sure?” She felt her heart flutter.
Cardin nodded, but he didn’t look happy about the message he bore. “We have it on good authority that Amdon is leading the uprising.” She choked on the breath she was taking and coughed loudly until her throat was clear.
“That can’t be.” Her voice was sharper then she had intended. Loyelene cradled her baby in her arms and glanced out the window, at the destruction that had befallen her land. Her heart ached at the harsh gossip put on her husband. “He’s the king. Why would he stir the people up against himself?” Her hard gaze turned toward her brother-in-law.
“They’re not against him. They’re against you . . . and Aimielen.”
“Why?” She decided to humor him with questions…after all, there was no way her husband would do such a thing…was there?
“Think El, I know you’re smart enough to realize why your death would greaten his power.” Cardin shook his head and stared from the window, out at the burnt earth.
Loyelene’s lower lip trembled and she quickly clenched her jaw, her eyes turning hard.
“Are you thinking that I could even imagine my husband trying to kill me?”
“El, admit it, you’ve wondered.”
“No….” the lie made her voice shaky. Cardin seemed to be struggling too, his eyes watering and his fists clenched.
“All of this is his doing. It is hard to believe, El. If you have to send Aimielen away, then do it. Don’t let her fall into Amdon’s hands. She may be his daughter, but he wants her dead, just like everyone else.”
“How can you say such things about your own brother?” The question jumped out of her mouth before she could stop it. She was tired of hearing her husband in an evil point of view.
“I wouldn’t lie to you, El. Not about something like this. I love you and Aimielen, and I would die before I let anything happen to either of you.” Loyelene nodded, she knew he was telling the truth.
At her desk, Loyelene grabbed a thin piece of water paper. It was a small painting of herself and Amdon. As she slipped it into her daughter’s blanket, she noticed Cardin’s shocked expression.
“Wherever she is going, she deserves to know who her parents were…are.” She barely chocked out the last words. Silently she walked to the door and two silent soldiers lead the way down the stairs while the others fell in behind them. They moved quickly now, rushing down one hallway and then another. The sounds of clashing swords rose up from the great hall, where her soldiers refused to give up the fight, despite the unbeatable odds.
The dishora stable was located on the upper floor, at the back of the castle. The soldiers opened the door and went in first, making sure it was safe for the queen to enter. It smelled of hay and grain and had several stalls on each side of the broad aisle. Loyelene’s dishora was no longer in its stall, but stood in front of the large outer doors where Cardin had left it.
“Hurry,” Cardin said, pushing Loyelene through the stable door and closing it behind them. “We’ve got company.” He no sooner brought the bar down across the door than an elf slammed against it from the other side.
Aimielen’s blanket caught on the hook of one of the stable gates and Loyelene tore it lose and hurried toward her dishora. She handed her daughter to Cardin as she approached the huge animal. “Hello, Haldereh,” she cooed to calm the fidgety dishora as she grabbed the gray mane and gracefully leaped upon the dishora’s back, expertly avoiding the bat-like wings. Cardin handed her Amy, and Loyelene tucked her into the crook of her arm.
Cardin stood beside Loyelene and nodded at the soldiers, who pulled open the large outer doors, leading to a hundred yard drop to the ground below. The air was smoky and smelled of despair and blood.
“Goodbye, El. I wish you well.” He squeezed her hand and kissed baby Aimielen’s little foot.
“It’s not over, Cardin. We’ll see each other again.”
He shook his head and looked back at the door, which shuddered under the force of the elves in the hall. “I’ll never make it out of here alive. I’ll go to my grave knowing that you are well.” His smile was strong and full of certainly.
Loyelene flinched at his brave but hideous words. He was indeed a great solider, man, and friend. She wanted to disagree, wanted to tell him that everything was going to be all right, but a lump had filled her throat and she feared that if she spoke she would choke. Instead, she clutched her child tightly to her chest and clucked to Haldereh. Cardin stood back as the dishora stood, spread its wings, and leaped out the open doors. A thin smile graced Cardin’s cracked lips as he walked to the ledge and watched the dishora soar through the smoky air, quickly gaining altitude; the drums of the elves pounding through the air…background music to their departure. It would be one of the last things he saw.
Flying high above the blackened landscape, Loyelene glanced back at the castle, happy to see that none of the enemy’s dishora was following her. She slipped un-noticed past the castle, using some magic to cloak her flight. With any luck, she could make it over the mountains, where the forests were still green and the villages still lived in peace, unaffected by the war raging at her castle. Yet as the landscaped changed from black to green, she realized that her wish wouldn’t come true.
A dishora rose up from the trees, as though it had been waiting for her. On its back sat a black figure. She couldn’t yet see the rider’s face, but she knew it was Amdon. She could sense it. Who else was cunning enough to wait for her in the trees and who else could predict which direction she would fly? Amdon’s wisdom was one of the qualities that had attracted Loyelene to him years ago. He had been a poor farm-boy and yet he had the heart of a king. She never dreamed that he would use it against her. Her only hope now was that the rumors were wrong, that Amdon hadn’t turned on her.
As they drew closer, she slowed her dishora, until it was hovering in air, beating its huge wings hard to keep it aloft. Amdon did the same, both of them facing each other. Loyelene studied his lean figure, watching his black hair play in the wind, covering his green eyes.
“El,” he said, speaking loud so that his voice could be heard over the sound of the beating wings. “You made it out.”
“We thought you were dead.” Loyelene’s heart pounded. She didn’t know whether to trust his smile or the happiness that she saw in his eyes. “Where have you been? We waited. I’d given up hope.”
“It’s a long story.” He turned his dishora in a slow circle around her, looking over at his daughter wrapped in her blanket. “How is she?”
“She’s fine.”
“I’d like to hold her.” A shiver went up her spine.
“She’s sleeping. I don’t want to wake her.” Her voice was breathy and full of confusion at her sudden lie.
Amdon nodded, puzzled. His eyes had darkened, or maybe it was just the light. His smile that had been once so welcoming was now just a thin line at the corners of his mouth.
“There’s a clearing by the river where we can land. I was there earlier. It’s safe. Follow me.” He started to turn his dishora, but Loyelene shook her head.
“Not right now, Amdon. It’s been a very stressful day. I need some time to think. Alone.”
There was coldness in his eyes now, a look of focused calculation. Again he circled his dishora around her, but this time it was more intimidating, more threatening. Foam flecked the dishora’s sweaty coat.
“If that’s what you wish. But give me Aimielen first. I haven’t seen her in weeks. That way you can truly have your time alone.”
“Not after what just happened. I can’t bear to have her out of my sight. Not now.”
“Don’t lie to me, El. I know you far too well to buy your ridicules stories.”
She stiffened, hurt, and stared down at the green forest below. She sent out a call from her mind into the air, a call that only unicorns could hear. She hoped that they would receive it in time.
“Are the rumors true, Amdon?” she asked, suddenly turning to look up at him again. “Have you turned the people against me?”
He smiled at first and then laughed. “I do like it better when you’re direct.”
“Then be direct with me,” she said, with disdain in her voice. “Why have you done this?”
“It’s very complicated.”
“Too complicated to tell your wife? I thought we agreed to trust and love each other.”
He shrugged her words off as he turned his dishora and circled her in the opposite direction. “I want power, you’re in my way. Now are you going to give me my child or do I have to take her from you?”
She held Aimielen up and opened the blanket so that Amdon could see the necklace around her neck. Suddenly, his smile vanished and the confidence faded from his eyes.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” Now Loyelene had the upper hand, and Amdon could do nothing but grit his teeth in frustration.
“You’ll never see her again,” he said. “You realize that, don’t you? She’ll be lost to you forever.”
“And how’s that different than giving her to you? Except perhaps my way she has a chance of living. Plus, I have a funny feeling I’ll see her again.”
“You think I’d kill my own child?”
“I didn’t, not before today. But looking at you now, I think you’d gladly drop her into the sea or feed her to one of your precious Rakeers. They work for you now don’t they? Are you the one who awakened them from the tombs?” Her voice shuddered with revolution. “Don’t think about returning to our ruined castle. Baldemoore has no need of a deceitful king.”
With a scream of fury and desperation, he circled his dishora around, made a large loop in the air, and charged toward her. Loyelene quickly spun the inner circle of the necklace around her child’s neck and, with one last look, flung her daughter into the sky. Her fingers could barely let go. For a single silent moment, Aimielen hung in the air, and then with a flash, the child disappeared.
Suddenly Haldereh reared and shied as Amdon’s dishora swooped down upon them. The sudden jerk sent Loyelene tumbling over the side. She reached up and caught hold of one of her mount’s great wings. Twisting in the air to try to get back up, she saw that Amdon had turned around and was heading at her again. Gripping the wing with both hands, she struggled to pull herself back up, but she could see now that she wasn’t going to make it. Her hand slipped and she bumped back into the side of Haldereh. Her back now to the jittery dishora, she could see that Amdon was coming at her fast. She closed her eyes, there was nothing she could do.
A sharp wind, and an intense pain exploded through her as the dishora’s black horn pierced her chest and entered her heart. She screamed in agony, harmonizing with Haldereh’s distant screech. Letting go of the wing, she threw raw jaharah at Amdon’s dishora’s belly, scorching its underside. Something snapped as the dishora screamed with pain and reared back, breaking off the tip of its horn.
It was now lodged in Loyelene’s heart as she tumbled through the sky, falling rapidly toward the green forest below. Her body went limp and her mind blank, unaware of the cushion of air that slowed her fall as she passed though the trees.
Steadying his dishora, Amdon watched Loyelene’s body disappear into the canopy of trees. He saw a flicker of shining gold and white under the maples, oaks, and pines, but he gave it little thought as he smirked in victory. At last his plan was complete. He had gotten rid of the only person who had stood in his way for him to rule all of Baldemoore. He pulled his dishora firmly to bring it back into control. It shuddered as it bore its injury. Haldereh, horrified at the disappearance of her beloved rider, dove for the trees below. Amdon let her go.
In a far away forest in a foreign land, a small, black-haired baby opened her eyes and cried out into the night. She was not aware of what had just happened or of what lay ahead. Gazing up at the tree above her, she saw a shimmer in the slim branches. She stretched out her hand, but her small arms could not reach.
Her faint cry grew louder until she was shrieking. That was usually all it took for her mother to come and hold her, but this time all that came was a cool breeze, making the willow branches dance. It fluttered through the trees and blew down across the forest floor. Baby Aimielen shivered and cried louder. An hour passed, and then two. At last, through her tears, she saw a face looking down at her.
“Oh you poor thing. What are you doing out here all alone?” The tall woman bent down and took the baby in her arms. She wiped the tears and leaves from Aimielen’s face and then paused in awe when the child looked up at her. “Would you look at those eyes?” She walked to a small clearing and held the child under the moonlight to make sure she had seen correctly. The eyes gleamed like emeralds, much greener than any eyes the woman had ever seen, and more vivid.
“Why would anyone leave you out here in a place like this?” The woman stared out through the forest, certain that the parents must be close by, but she saw no one.
She stepped carefully through the brush, back to the path that she’d been following when she first heard the baby’s cry. Beneath the moonlight, she noticed a word embroidered in the blanket. The end of it was torn off, leaving only the letters “Aimie.”
“Aimie,” the name felt strange on her tongue. “Amy. Let’s get you out of the cold and see if we can find you some warm milk.”
