The Exiled King

Where had it all gone wrong? Dethemina wondered.

Her sons had met, and while she had not expected a joyous welcoming, she did not expect them to each reject each other in such a way. It tore her heart to pieces. Aranel had run out, and Taryn lashed out at her, spewing a torrent of words in common. Of those words, the only ones she understood were ‘Taryn’ and his old human name. Had he accepted the name? It did not seem so. A lot could be determined from a person’s tone of voice and facial expression. His had been contorted into a frown. Deep creases in his eyebrows showed his adamant displeasure at something, although what it was, was still lost on her.

She turned to look at her son, who looked anywhere but at her.

Why has he not left? She wondered briefly, before coming to the realisation, Of course. I teleported him here using my magic. He doesn’t not know where he is. By the Mother, what a fool I’ve been!

“I’ll take you back to your companions,” she whispered.

He turned and looked at her with unreadable eyes, but stretched out his hand for her to take. They disappeared in a flash of light, returning to the barracks where Eryna conversed with Nicon. The other companions had also awoken, although most had not left their beds.

She released his hand and took a step back.

“Ta- no, He-Hjevi,” She stuttered, her mouth fumbling the unknown sounds, “You have a ceremony tomorrow that you are unfortunately unable to miss.”

Under her breath, she muttered, “How I wish you had a choice, my son,” Before disappearing in a flash of magic.

<--<< >>-->

Jason awoke with a groan. His vision was hazy and his mind was murky. His bed felt harder than usual, and he chalked it up to his brother, Edmund’s, pranks again.

“Ed,” He croaked, rolling over expecting to feel more fabric beneath his searching fingers. He was instead met with empty space and he tumbled off the bed in an uncoordinated heap. He stared dazedly at the ceiling far above him as his muddled brain struggled to comprehend.

Home? No… where am I? He thought, his face contorting into a frown.

Home had a low wooden ceiling that sometimes leaked on an especially rainy day, a distinct smell of wood smoke and pine wood, and clutter in every imaginable corner. The house was small—so small that Jason and Edmund shared a bed—so every available space was used. Dried meats and herbs hung from the ceiling beam on large hooks burrowed deep into the ancient wood. The walls and shelves were crammed full of items and whatever had not found a place on the walls or shelves lay on the floor.

The room Jason found himself in was made of cold, hard stone and the large interior was sparsely furnished. Cots lined the walls and the windows revealed it was night.

“You survived, dear client.” A voice called from the other end of the hall.

It was Eryna, who sat with another male—an elf, who had Jason instinctively wary.

“Eryna… who is that? Where are we? Where are my friends?” Jason fired off the questions rapidly and she grinned.

“Welcome to Silvardor, your destination!” She said grandly, indicating with wide-spread arms.

“Your companions are waking up in the other beds. And this is, uh, King Nicon,” She looked at the male for confirmation, then nodded.

His etiquette training quickly kicked in and Jason hastily knelt before the elven king and muttered, “Your majesty!”

The elf shook his head and muttered something in the ancient language, which Eryna translated and told Jason to rise.

“You speak Ovaal?” Jason burst out, although a moment later he regretted his decision.

She arched an eyebrow and said matter-of-factly, “I am an elf, you know. And was brought up in Silvardor, my homeland. Just because I chose to later move to Sanobar does not mean that I forget my roots so easily. The ancient language, ‘Ovaal’, as you call it, was taught to me when I was a young child.”

He sighed and muttered an apology, his face beet red, “I-I should have known. I’m not sure why I even asked…”

She grinned and consoled him, “Most people are surprised. The thought of knowing both languages fluently is not a common one—especially with the history humans and elves have. While it's true that dwarves are proficient in both, they cannot claim to be fluent in either, as their dialect, ‘Comold’ is a mix of common and Ovaal.”

“Speaking of our dwarven friends,” She continued, “I should check on my other clients.”

Sprawled in two adjacent beds, the dwarven females were stirring. A harsh accent and rough voice emerged as one of them groaned and mumbled something.

Eryna walked over to the dwarves and greeted them with a grin. She spoke to them in common, Jason noticed.

But at that moment, Jason witnessed a truly strange sight. The dwarven female’s body lengthened and stretched and filled out into a form that was unmistakably male. A thick beard sprouted, coming down to mid-chest and previously loosely hanging tunic tightened snugly.

In a heavily accented and thickly spoken common, he said, “That’s better.”

Upon seeing Jason’s disbelieving face, he gave a roaring laugh and cried, “Ya never see a dwarf transform, ‘Ave ya, kid?”

He reddened and awkwardly admitted that it was his first time even seeing a dwarf. The dwarf guffawed louder and cried, “Which hole did’ya crawl outta? They don't teach kids like you about the greatest weaponsmiths to ever live in school anymore?"

Both Eryna and Jason wore equally baffled expressions and the dwarf shrugged, "Schools. Use 'em to teach the young'uns. Dwarven concept, so no reason why you would know."

Eryna chimed in, "It's not as if humans and elves never educate their young. Humans apprentice their children to a trade when they come of a certain age and elven parents teach their children at home. We're not the idiots you might think we are," She teased.

The dwarf acknowledged her pointed remark and stuck his hand out, introducing himself as Altein, saying, "You're alright, I guess. Not what I expected from you tree huggers."

The elven king, Nicon, walked up to them, a grim expression gracing his otherwise unlined and smooth face.

He spoke briefly to Eryna and she turned to look at Jason with a similarly grim face.

"He just told me the Fall Queen is coming. She's convinced we're trespassers in Silvardor—which, I guess we kind of are, but she thinks we're the bad kind. That we want to harm the elves. She's coming to inter-"

Eryna's words were cut off when great cracks spread through the floor and large vines sprang up at them, winding around and securely wrapping everyone but Nicon, who watched with a conflicted expression of amusement and worry.

The door to the barracks burst open with a bang and slammed against the wall with an audible crack and a figure appeared. Behind her trailed a flock of servants and knights, scrambling to keep up the pace. Following closely behind her retinue was an enormous, well-groomed rat.

In a loud voice she yelled, "In the name of Aira, queen of the fall season, I declare you under arrest and guilty until proven innocent!"

Tied up tightly and confronted by the queen, Jason sighed and wondered what in the name of Pelos had gone so wrong.