Chapter 16: Old Friends
It was almost dark by the time they reached the other side of the ravine. While descending into the green abyss, Igraine had felt so sick that she was too weak even to counter the prince’s naughty jokes about questioning his abilities as a rider. Not talking about horses at all, he assured her that he would prove his skills to her later, at the same time steering Ahearn down the side of the wooded mountain with ease. “Frightened of heights, human?” His words teased her, but his arm tightened around her protectively, silently telling her that he would not let her fall.
Having dismounted, they let the horse run free and stood at the river’s edge. On its other side the waterfall came rushing down into a large pool of water, a fine mist rising up from it. The thundering sound drowned out all other noises. Igraine looked up to Elathan, shrugging her shoulders as if to ask him where to go next. The elf nodded to the waterfall and started to lead her across a narrow part of the river where some huge boulders were standing out from the water, forming a natural bridge. The stones were slippery, and she grabbed the prince’s outstretched hand gratefully.
After a few steps, Igraine could hardly see through the mist, and the ground became slippery. But Elathan led her safely over the disturbed waters and around the natural pool. When they reached the massive stone wall, Igraine saw that though invisible from the other side, there was a path leading behind the waterfall, where it disappeared into the mountain. “A cave,” she breathed, stunned. Despite the deafening noise of the streaming water Elathan heard her, and he nodded, a secretive smile on his sensuous lips.
They went along the mossy side of the mountain, pressing their backs against the eternal stone. Igraine wondered if she would be crushed under the heavy mass of the waterfall if she tried to go right through it. At last they proceeded to the gaping hole in the rock and entered the darkness of the cave. It took a while until her eyes adjusted to the dim light that still entered the opening. She noticed a tunnel that seemed to lead downwards. She held on tighter to Elathan, and he pressed her fingers reassuringly.
The elf stretched out his left hand and stared at his palm for a moment until a flame appeared on it. Its magic light showed them the way through the darkened corridor, and they followed it deeper into the bowels of the mountain, Elathan leading the way. Igraine knew she should be frightened, and she was, but the simple joy of holding his hand was stronger than her fear. It made her feel like she belonged to him. She didn’t know if he held her in his grasp only to keep her from stumbling and getting hurt or if he liked their silent companionship just as she did. But she noticed that the path wasn’t as steep as before, and there weren’t many rocks to fall over anymore. To be honest, now she was quite safe to walk on her own. Maybe the prince liked holding hands with her, after all. The thought brought a smile to her face.
The tunnel seemed to curve through the darkness endlessly. Water was dripping from the walls, but it was not cold; the air was thick with moisture so it became harder to breathe with every step they took. Elathan guided her, his strong fingers determinedly closed around hers. The warmth of his skin seemed to penetrate her own, and a familiar heat spread in the lower parts of her body. It was incredible how much she wanted him even now. Her desire had grown stronger and stronger since they joined their blood. She couldn’t stay away from him much longer than a few hours.
Behind a sharp bend the tunnel widened, and there was a row of small chambers, one leading into the next. It was pitch dark and silent. Igraine discovered once again that her senses had sharpened since her bonding with the elf. When she listened very carefully, she could hear the sounds of little creatures that lived in the impenetrable darkness and quiet. They were crawling along the endless galleries of stone, blindly searching for food or a mate with which to reproduce.
The air grew hotter with every new cave they entered. Soon Igraine’s dress clung to her body, and she saw tiny drops of moisture on the prince’s forehead. In some of the chambers the floor was littered with bones, white remains of unknown creatures. They shone in the light of Elathan’s flame. Igraine didn’t dare to examine them closely, not wanting to find out to which animal – or maybe human being – they once belonged. But there was no doubt that a predator lived here, lurking somewhere in the darkness of these caves. Igraine shivered, relieved that the elf’s strong hand gave her the courage to go on.
They came into another room, partly collapsed so that only a narrow passage among enormous blocks of stone allowed them to pass. Igraine ducked under the low opening, closing her eyes and hoping the heavy rock would not crumble over her head and bury her alive. But when she straightened on the other side, she gasped in awe at the spectacular sight that awaited her.
The magic light played on Elathan’s elven features as he saw her widened eyes, eagerly soaking up all the wonders his world held in store for her. It seemed that he never grew tired watching her childlike excitement whenever she discovered something new. It had become a very satisfying habit to him to surprise her, show her things she could never have imagined existed. Seeing the smile on her face, radiating with pure happiness, filled his heart with a deep peace he had not felt for a very long time. Over the long years in exile, he had become tired of life, only revelling in his thirst for revenge, so he had closed his eyes against beauty in all its forms. Never had he expected to find it through the eyes of a mortal woman.
They were standing at the entrance to a vast cave, much larger than the one Elathan used to bathe in. It was very high, with an arched ceiling. A row of massive pillars made of white, glittering crystal along the walls reflected the light and gave the chamber the look of a cathedral. There was a fascinating variety of forms, an elephant’s foot, a row of sparkling waterfalls that looked like they had been frozen while falling down from the walls, the fragile form of a lily growing on the cave floor where a standing pool of water had once been.
At the far end the cave ended in a labyrinth of stalagmites and columns, some of them standing so close together that a grown man could hardly pass through. Igraine let her gaze wander over the beauty surrounding her, barely aware that the flame in the prince’s hand had become extinct before he stepped behind her and enclosed her in his arms, not paying heed to this palace of eternal stone. His eyes rested on her amazed face alone.
“It’s beautiful,” Igraine whispered, her hand seeking Elathan’s on her waist.
She felt him nod silently, not knowing that he was looking at her with an indecipherable expression on his face. The graceful, high formations of stone surrounded a vast lake, extending to the far end of the cave. It was not a lake of water, however, but a crater filled with liquid fire, the molten lava wavering and bubbling. The surface was smooth and treacherously dark, like a black egg with cracks in its shell; between them lay deep-red lines of fire, their deadly heat threatening every living being that dared to come too near. The contrast to the lavish decorations of limestone, bathed in the red glow of the lava, was breathtaking.
“It is called The Hall of Kings,” Elathan said quietly. “The old legends speak of this place, but its location is unknown. Many of my people do not even believe that it really exists. Only the king of the elven realms and his heir to the throne know the secret – and now, you. My father brought me here when he deemed me old enough to meet him.”
“Him?” Igraine repeated absentmindedly, not able to avert her gaze from the lake. The air was so hot that she began to sweat, rivulets of moisture running down her neck and collecting between her breasts. A damp lock stuck to her temple, and she brushed it back. Suddenly, Elathan’s muscular forearms held her closer. She was pressed against his body and felt his heated skin, even through the layers of their elven clothing. The hard length of his manhood tightened against her, and she moved seductively, rubbing herself against him. The elf moaned and bit playfully into the side of her neck to punish her.
“You should know by now how to behave in the presence of a prince, woman,” he mocked her. “When we leave this cave, I will have to teach you. I always wanted to find out how long a frail human can take an elf’s pleasure. We will see.” He paused, smiling darkly. Despite the heat, a shiver ran down Igrain's spine. She already knew that the prince tended to fulfill his promises.
“But now I want you to meet my friend,” Elathan continued. “He is the oldest creature dwelling in this forest. I hope that he has not already left for this night’s hunt.” Elathan stepped away from Igraine before he closed his eyes and concentrated, the air around him crackling with magic.
Igraine looked around, waiting for the mysterious friend to enter, but nothing happened. She didn’t realize at first that the surface of the lava began to change, the black crust giving way to the blazing red heat erupting from the depths of the crater. But then something seen from the corner of her eye drew her attention, and she just turned her head in time to see a long, sharp object piercing the bubbling liquid. It was gleaming fiery red like the element from which it was released, smoke rising from the razor-sharp tip. It seemed to be made from a bone-hard material, and diagonal lines wound around the whole length of it.
It was a horn.
She couldn’t believe her own eyes when she saw the beast emerging from the molten lava. It was a creature born of fire, covered with opalescent, golden-red scales. Black, snake-like pupils glowed like charcoals in the dark. There was no doubt that the horn rising from its forehead was a deadly weapon. It left the lake step by step, moving with grace and beauty. Faintly resembling a huge, muscular war horse, it walked on four long legs with cleft hooves. But its head looked more like a reptile’s, with small nose slits and sharp, predatory teeth in the slightly bent snout. Igraine involuntarily went closer to Elathan again, remembering the cleanly gnawed bones she had seen in the antechambers. The bushy mane and tail looked like a lion’s, shimmering white and golden.
Elathan pushed her behind him, shielding her with his body from the beast’s sight.
“A unicorn,” Igraine whispered.
Elathan nodded slightly. “His father was. But his mother was a dragon. His name is Aonadharcach, and he is the last of his kind. I would suggest that you stay back and let me talk to him first.”
Igraine had the sudden urge to laugh hysterically. As if she had even thought of talking to this beast! She wondered which topic would be appropriate for a conversation with a unicorn, especially if it was half dragon. The weather, perhaps? But as frightening as the creature was, she was mesmerized by its wild beauty. She stared at it … him with widened eyes, unable to move.
“Aon,” Elathan called when the unicorn stopped before them. He was much larger than a horse, the tall elf just reaching to the creature’s flanks. To Igraine’s surprise the prince bowed his head, greeting his friend.
The unicorn tilted his head to the side, watching the elf for a while. Aon blinked, and thin, transparent membranes slid up over his eyes, disappearing behind his lids. Obviously they had protected his sensitive pupils from the heat of the molten lava. Then he bowed, repeating Elathan’s gesture.
“I knew we would meet again, my Prince,” Aon said. His voice sounded deep and clear. “Have you finally decided that you want to know the course of your destiny?”
Elathan laughed. “You know that I prefer to choose my own destiny, my friend. Is it not enough that you told my father that he would die at the hands of his own son one day? He never looked at me with the same eyes again.” He stretched out his hand, slowly turning up his palm. “And yet my father’s blood does not stain my hand, after all these years. Will you still claim that your prediction was true?”
“Is that the reason why you went into exile, young prince?” the unicorn asked. Igraine presumed that Aon must be much older than Elathan, if he called him young, of all things. “Were you afraid that I might be right, after all? Did you deem it best to leave and choose eternal darkness over the company of your people?”
Elathan did not answer. Igraine felt a surge of pain ripping through her soul and instantly knew that it was not her own, but his. The prince let his hand drop to his side and nodded slightly to in her direction. “Look, unicorn. I brought a surprise for you. This is the Lady Igraine. You will like each other. She needs your old magic to protect her.” Then he raised his head and stared directly into Aon’s eyes. “But be careful, dragon’s son. If any harm should befall her, your horn will adorn the wall of my bedchamber very soon.”
The unicorn’s laughter sounded like a golden bell, echoing from the high walls of the cave. “As if you could surprise me! I already sensed that this human is precious to you, Sire. After all this time … A slave of pleasure, bonded in blood, united in body and soul. I never thought I would see something like this again.” Igraine shivered when Aon surveyed her with his slit pupils, silently praying that he had already eaten.
When he slowly lowered his head, the horn came threateningly near. Igraine felt Elathan’s body going rigid beside her. His hand touched the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it in the blink of an eye. But Aon touched her very gently with the sharp tip on her chest, right over her heart. Igraine felt the beast’s mind entering her, searching the very core of her being. At last he seemed to have found what he had looking for.
“You have a pure heart, human,” his deep voice whispered in her head. “Did you know that this is the only bait you need to catch a unicorn? The same way you caught the prince.” She heard him chuckle before he added, “But I feel that you do not only desire him, mortal woman. You love him.”
There was no sense in lying to a unicorn with clairvoyant powers, especially since it had decided to go for a walk through her mind.
“Yes,” her thoughts whispered. “I will love him forever, with all my heart. Even if he sends me away because he takes another mate, someone who is more worthy of him. Even if he kills me.” Her heart felt as if it would break, crying silent tears in the darkest corners of her soul.
“So you would die for him, human?” the unicorn’s voice asked.
There was no hesitation in her answer. “Yes,” she breathed, speaking it out aloud this time. She didn't notice that Elathan had wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her upright while the unicorn was speaking to her. He couldn’t hear what Aon told Igraine, but he sensed her pain and threw a reproachful glance to his mind-reading friend, letting him know that the human woman was under his protection.
“Then I will show you the future, Igraine,” Aon continued in her mind. “But are you ready to endure this knowledge? You might not like what you see. And you will not change the path of his destiny.”
“Show me,” Igraine answered. “I need to know this.”
“Then open up to me.” She felt the unicorn’s mind wander deeper into her soul, gaining even more power over her. “But to understand Elathan’s future, you will have to see the past first.”
There was no time to prepare herself for the unicorn’s attack on her mind and senses. He shut out the world and every other thought. The force of his old mind conquering her thoughts was so overwhelming she could hardly bear it. So she tried to concentrate on his powerful voice that conjured up scenes and images before her inner eye, making her feel as if she was right there, an invisible witness who could see and hear everything, but was unable to touch anything.
“The queen died shortly after Elathan’s birth,” Aon began. “King Bres was devastated by her loss, and his heart was broken.” Igraine felt as if she was actually there, at the elven court. She was standing in the great hall of a castle before the king’s throne that was set on a dais, covered with golden and silver leaves; she saw his cold, handsome face and his empty eyes that stared into the distance, void of emotion. The arrival of a noble visitor was announced. A delicate woman entered the chamber and knelt gracefully down before the king. She was not elf or human, but of another kind, reminding Igraine of the water nymphs.
“You are right,” Aon told her, reading her thoughts. “A woodland nymph, Breena. They are beautiful, but fickle and cunning, using what they have to get their way.” Her beauty was indeed otherworldly. She had midnight-black tresses almost reaching down to her waist, tiny flowers braided in. Little winged fairies played in her hair and arranged it neatly around her white shoulders while the king rose from his throne to greet her, enchanted by the nymph’s radiant smile when she looked up to the dais. Igraine could see the sudden desire in his face while he watched the nymph.
“Oh yes, he wanted her,” the unicorn said. “And he made her his queen.”
For the first time Igraine saw the two elven children standing beside the throne, partly hidden in the shadows – a boy and a girl, both of them very pale, and dressed in matching royal attire. Igraine gasped when she saw the nymph standing up and staring at the children with infinite hatred in her eyes while the king wasn’t watching. She was clearly telling them who would be their mistress from now on.
The little girl demurely dropped her gaze and retreated into the shadows, but the boy took a step forward, bravely looking the woman, who was to be his new mother, in the eyes. His face bore a stubborn, haughty expression. He boldly held the nymph’s threatening stare with his amber eyes, proudly raising his head. His face was young but strangely earnest, as if he had grown up too soon. I am royalty and your better, all of his demeanor told the nymph. She flinched before she finally turned away, having lost the silent contest against a mere child. But she would not forget the humiliation.
Igraine knew this child’s face. It was Elathan. And he had just made himself a deadly enemy.
Before she could ask what would happen next, the unicorn proceeded with his story. “If a nymph has once set her mind on something, it is hardly possible to keep her from reaching that goal. After Breena had been crowned queen, she soon bore the king another son. She named him Ruadan, and the king gave him all his attention. But Elathan, as the firstborn, was the true heir to the throne of Fearann. Ever since he was old enough to understand, Ruadan was told by his mother that he would be king one day. Elathan was in their way, and he still is, even after he left court and went into exile a long time ago. As long as he lives, no one can dispute his right to be king one day.”
Another scene appeared, with two young elven warriors training in an arena, both fighting with double swords against each other. They wore only black trousers and boots, their ivory skin glistened with sweat. One of them was Elathan, his face not scarred yet, his briskly moving body thriving with youth and strength. The other elf was his exact opposite; his long, ink black hair and beautiful exotic features marked him as the nymph’s son. He was lither than his older half-brother, smaller and not as heavily muscled. But that also gave him the advantage of being quick and more flexible; he whirled and twisted while Elathan countered him with mighty strokes of his weapon, obviously the more skilled swordsman.
Whenever Elathan turned away from his brother, Igraine could see the blatant hatred in Ruadan’s eyes. After a while his strength began to fade, staggering under Elathan’s heavy blows. As Ruadan went down on his knees, his brother stopped attacking him at once, pausing to give him the chance to recover. At the same time Ruadan raised his right hand, quickly stabbing Elathan’s side with the sword. Igraine cried out. She remembered a long, puckered scar that distorted the prince’s skin there. It must have taken him a long time to heal. She had assumed that all the scars on the elf’s body were caused in battle by his enemies, not by his own kind.
Ruadan had not even enough time to realize that he had made a mistake. Elathan threw himself at him and knocked him down to the ground with his weight, his deadly blade pressed against the younger elf’s throat. “Now what will you do, coward?” he hissed at him, his eyes blazing with fury. “Poison me?”
Ruadan spat out. “That would be too easy for you, brother. Your death is inevitable, it is only a matter of time. Father already knows that you are secretly raising an army to claim the throne for yourself. He is just thinking about how to deal with a son who is a traitor.”
With one swift movement, Elathan pulled out a dagger from under his belt and sliced open Ruadan’s cheek. The wound was not deep but just enough to draw some blood, disfiguring the younger prince with a scar that would always remind him of this day.
“And this is how I deal with liars, half-nymph. If I ever catch you repeating those words, it will be your neck which is cut open the next time.” He held his sword closer to Ruadan’s throat, making him choke. “You know very well that I assembled my warriors because I learned that your own men had infiltrated the royal guard. Now why would you do that, I wonder? Methinks it is you who want to claim the throne according to your dear mother’s fondest wish.”
“Don’t speak about my mother,” Ruadan uttered disdainfully. He was so furious that he pressed himself up against the sword, not caring that the sharp blade dug into the skin of his neck. Small streams of blood emerged from the wound.
The older prince’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I speak of whom I wish, brother. I am Elathan, heir to the throne of Fearann. You owe me fealty and subjection, never forget that.”
The image blurred and vanished slowly. Igraine just caught a glimpse of a dark-haired elven maiden who ran into the arena and shouted at the brothers to separate, begging Elathan to release Ruadan. Elathan turned his head, his posture visibly relaxing when he saw her. She was Elathan’s cousin, grown up now, and lovely beyond compare. Even if she resembled him, she seemed to be very different, dark where the prince was light, calm and contemplative in contrast to his passionate temperament. Igraine was surprised that a rush of anger ran through her. She did not like the thought that they had been so close, even if only as cousins. How could she ever compare with such perfect beauty?
She heard Aon’s laughter in her head. “Jealous, are we?” Before she could answer, he flooded her mind with a multitude of images, an overwhelming amount of information in an instant. “Stop it,” she whispered, but the unicorn ignored her wish, wanting her to see everything. Igraine's body went limp in Elathan’s arms when she was hit by the intensity of emotions he had once felt. Their connection was so strong that she shared the prince's pain while the king carved the initiation marks into his skin, knelt at his side as he wept over Ailidh’s crushed body on the battlefield. She cried with him, then trembled with hate when he cursed humanity and left his home in exile, separated from everyone he had ever loved. At last she felt a terrible, overwhelming loneliness that seemed to last forever.
“Human, you have to know that destiny has already chosen a path for Elathan,” the unicorn’s voice said. “He does not know yet, but he will return to the elven realms very soon. His people need their prince.”
“I need him, too,” Igraine dared to answer. Her heart sank with every word. She knew that he would be taken from her, but she didn’t want to know it. Not yet. Only one more night in his arms, spent in the tree-house that she had secretly enjoyed thinking of as their new home. It was the only place where he would ever belong only to her.
“And he needs you, Igraine,” Aon said. “You must stay with him until the end.”
“The end,” she whispered, wishing she could keep the unicorn out of her head if she just covered her ears with her hands. It had helped when she had not wanted to hear something as a child. But Aon showed no mercy, not caring if she wanted to know the truth or not. Her decision had been made when she had agreed to let him into her mind.
“Yes, Igraine. You saw it coming, in your dream. You always knew it was more than a simple nightmare, didn’t you? You knew it was real.”
And now the scene from her dream came back to her again, rolling over her like a wave she couldn’t hold back, no matter how hard she tried. It was just like she remembered it, but now Elathan was kneeling on a battlefield among fallen elven warriors, blood streaming out of the deadly wound where the arrow had pierced his heart.
Igraine began to fight against the vision. She didn't want to see him dying now. Not again.
“Look at him, human,” the unicorn commanded, forcing her to watch. “This is his destiny. He will be a hero to his people, praised in their songs and legends for as long as they tell them to their children at night, sitting at their fireplaces.”
“I do not care,” Igraine replied. “I will not let him die. I can’t allow this to happen.”
“It is true that the course of destiny can be changed, it has been done before. But will you pay the price?”
“I will,” she said. “What is the price, unicorn? Show me." Yet in her heart, she already knew the answer.
Before her inner eye the scene altered. This time, it was she who lay dying in the prince’s arms, a gaping wound in her chest. With his head bent forward, Elathan's face was covered by his moonlight hair that spilled all over her, drenched in her own blood. She felt the sudden urge to brush it back from his brow, to see if he cried for her.
“I can’t feel sorry for you,” the unicorn told her, “for it is not in my nature. But I wish I could have shown you something else. Now it is your destiny to choose. Will it be you … or him? I cannot see everything that awaits you, but I know that only one of you can live.”
“He will live,” Igraine decided, not hesitating for a moment. “If you believe that I even need to think about this, you are very wrong, unicorn. The storytellers will have to find another hero. I never cared too much about old legends anyway.”
“Then it is done,” Aon said. “You need some rest now, human.”
And her world went dark.