“Thank you, guildmaster.” The King replied to the elf who had tried to humiliate me with the mushrooms after the room had returned to order. “I will ask the elves present today to control themselves in the presence of our guest.”
I understood that to mean that there was a human present, stop being emotional and embarrassing yourselves. His words had the desired effect, and the room became silent once more.
The King turned to his father. “The second of your four points shows promise, Father. What is your third reason for his appearance before the crown?”
Yandril nodded and said, “Gwydion talks to stones.”
The King blinked. He waited for his father to say more, and when he did not, the king asked. “And what is the significance of this, father? It sounds more like a case for the physicians than our Court.”
There was scattered laughter, but far less than earlier when the King replied with sarcasm. It was not lost on the king that the tone of the room had changed. He pursed his lips and glared at his father.
Bella whispered to me, See, they were being swayed by the old king’s arguments and are less ready to judge you prematurely.
Yandril explained. “If he spoke to stones in the manner you suggest, yes, a healer might be called for. But he does not. Our Elfkin is a stone whisperer.”
I expected some sort of response from those gathered, but other than a few sudden inhalations of breath, the room was still and silent. However, every eye was now on me and not on the King or the King’s father.”
“How do you know this?” The King asked his father, but continued looking at me.
“Both as one who whispers, I know. And it is also what drew the dwarves to test and question him.”
The King asked, “And by passing their tests, far more thoroughly than anything we would devise, they confirmed him Dwarfkin, Dwarf Master,-”
Yandril completed the King’s sentence. “-and the Dwarf King himself named him brother, as both were born in the same dwarf year.”
The King asked me, “Who are you? What are you?”
I didn’t understand the question.
Bella said, It’s fine to look puzzled. He does not expect an answer.
The king looked out at the hall and saw that there were a number of confused expressions. “Father, please explain what a whisperer is. It is so rare that it appears many of those present are unaware of it.
“Yes, my king. A whisperer is an elf, or in this case an Elfkin, who has the ability beyond magic to speak to natural objects, plants, or animals and converse. It is not like a druid’s spell, which is far more limited, but a true gift and one that occurs, if at all, near the very end of a prolonged life of study, contemplation, and ordering one’s mind both internally and externally. Such a power could ask a tree to move, draw magical powers at will from stones, or create such a deep bond with an animal as to be telepathic and share minds.”
“Thank you, Father. That is a fine explanation for our learned sages. In simpler language,” he said, turning to the hall, “a whisperer pulls powers, abilities, and knowledge from objects to use as he deems appropriate.”
The king glanced back at me. “I presume that you are able to pull out rare powers and abilities in stones and gemstones?”
“Yes, my king.”
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“Any power?” He pressed.
“Any power that lay within the stone, yes, my King. Each type of stone or gem is unique, although they do have many aspects in common.”
I didn’t want to get into a debate about such things with the king or reveal too much since my status here was still being debated.
Fortunately, the king didn’t seem interested in the minutiae, either.
The King shook his head in amazement and turned once more to his father and said, in a kind of resigned and almost apprehensive voice. “The third of your four points shows promise, Father. What is your fourth reason for his appearance before the crown?”
Almost as one, most of the elves in the room sat forward as if to better see and hear what came next.
Yandril himself sat back in his chair. The thrill that seemed to be with him during the discussion either drained out of him, or the words he was about to share had such a moment that he uttered them reluctantly. “Our whisperer, Elfkin and Patron, Gwydion Istari, has soul-bonded with an Olasha Nika.”
The words were ancient Elven, and they meant “overwhelming Spirit.” He means you, doesn’t he, Bella? I asked her.
Be strong, and be ready, Gwydion. Was her only reply. I felt a growing tension, almost fear, in her that I had never felt before.
The words were barely out of Yandril’s lips when I saw the color drain away from the King. He sat stiff and seemed to turn cold.
He addressed me. “Where did you bond with this Olasha Nika?”
I was a little surprised by the question, but I could feel the tension in the hall. “In Keelwell, my King.”
On the first evening after the journeyman sorcerer Grolin joined the team, we discussed legendary spirits and speculated about Bella. She was quite amused throughout our exchange, although she never said much. She just chuckled or got indignant.
Grolin explained a little about legendary spirits that were not in the introductory text that Emeritus Guildmistress Ilyana Farseer made me read in her presence. Sorcerers ranked all spirits into seven levels. The seventh level, the highest and most powerful, referred to as legendary, was itself further divided into its own seven-tiered scale. The least were still deadly powerful to most mortals, but the powers increased by orders of magnitude thereafter. He gave an example with Bella assumed to be a level five of seven, and The Mother as a level six. A level seven spirit would be the most powerful of divine messengers or infernal equivalents. God was not on the scale as being both eternal and all-powerful, according to Grolin. He explained that only created beings were listed. It was an interesting discussion, and I recall wishing that Steven had been there to both enjoy and critique Grolin’s mage assertions.
The king slowly sat upright in his chair, and those who knew him drew back apprehensively.
“There are but two such spirits in that region. Rhea and Zhea.” The King stated in an even, emotionless voice. He paused and took in a long breath. “There is no certain way to know which one it is, and the one is too dangerous to be allowed to roam free. Guards, kill him.”
He did not shout, he did not show anger, and he did not lose eye contact with me. But I saw a hatred in him that would have chilled me to the bone if my ring staff had not shaken me loose of my stunned reaction to his order of my death.
Things happened very quickly.
The elf soldiers around the room, and several I had not even taken notice of, drew their bows, nocked arrows, and let them fly at me in the time it took me to breathe in and out once.
The staff emerged from my ring and into my left hand. As the arrows closed in on me from all sides, Simon’s gifted ring to me discharged, and the skill Avoid First Strike kicked in. I performed a feat of improbable acrobatics that involved knocking down the arrows with hands and feet, catching and embedding them in the wood of my staff, and avoiding them entirely.
I pointed the war staff at the King with all the gems glaring in bright anger. I opened my mouth to release a platinum ring spell, but I hesitated, worrying about the safety of those closest to the King.
But before I could react further, a series of second arrows flew at me, and Bella appeared between me and the King.
She was taller than I was, thinner, and although her back was to me, I could see that her ears were Elven.
“Stop!” She commanded. “You will not harm him!”
The King raised his hand and yelled, “Hold!”
But one of the soldiers who was perhaps a bit faster than his peers let loose a second arrow. He tried to pull it aside at the last minute, which caused it to skew off course.
In one of those moments where time seemed to slow down, I saw that it would strike a young elf who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
It was Keenor.
I activated a lesser gift of Simon’s from a copper ring. Deflect Missiles.
I leaned to one side, swiped at the arrow with impossible speed, and struck it a glancing blow with my hand. It embedded itself in the wooden floor at Keenor’s feet.
“Hold, I said!” The King commanded, standing up from his throne.
I slid to the side, placing her behind me, assuming the first position. My holy blade was out and pointed directly at the king’s heart. My staff remained in my left hand, and the gems pulsed angrily.
I looked back over my shoulder and smiled briefly at Keenor, who stared open-eyed, open-mouthed, and terrified back at me. I looked back at the king, and my expression turned grim.
Do not react. Do not act. Bella insisted.
The King approached where Bella was standing, once more between me and the King. She seemed less solid and flickered, as if a projection or illusion.
The King stopped a few feet in front of her. “It is good to see you again, Rhea. After so many centuries.”
“And you as well, tadpole.” She replied. “But even as before, you bring me unintended pain, and I am in distress because of it as once more I defend one whom you would harm in your pride and ignorance.”
“I owe you a debt.” He said, almost ignoring her words with some old memory in his eyes. But a warmth came over his expression, and his body language softened.
“And that debt passes to Gwydion. Be wise, my Elven King.” And she disappeared from sight.
The King looked troubled and asked me, “Is she alright?”
Are you okay, Bella? I asked, concerned.
I am very weak, but yes, tell him I will be fine. And then she was silent once more.
“She is very weak, but she says she will be fine,” I replied, anger beginning to fill me.
The King saw it in my eyes and whispered too low for others to hear, especially with the clamor that started all around the hall at the King’s command to attack me. “Hold your tongue and temper, Elfkin, and I will make this right. I promise.”
I held back the words I wanted to say. He hurt Bella, and that created a fire in my belly brighter than anything I had yet felt since the shark had taken my best friend Biff’s life by a thread.
