The Lenaris Cycle
Author's Note
A note about this chapter: Initially, the story ended at three parts... but I couldn't let it die. However, Lenaris had caved way too easily! So unlike her! So... this story would have needed retrofitting. Would I do a thing like that, lazy as I am? Non. Some day, if I rewrite this story... This will flow more seamlessly! Now, enjoy!
Chapter 5: A Little History Lesson
Red in my eyes, red in my soul, I could feel something new welling up inside of me. It was a defiance that I had only tasted in my moments of deepest frustration, something I'd been taught to deny myself. No longer was it a hint of that defiance that I felt. I could feel it pure, and raw, coursing through me just as that red had done. I was dyed, and I was disturbingly happy with the result. Black and red somehow beat white and silver. Only when power was bestowed or unleashed did a Selarian's eyes change color. That red stone must have done more than simdye my eyes, I could feel it.
That finger stroked over my lips, and my eyes, and they were returned to me, or rather they were in my custody, for better or worse. I was still caged and no less were the bonds siphoning my vitality. Not sapping mind you, but the damage they were doing was far worse and I knew it. This was the sort of torture that dulled a Selarian's eyes. My people, a race with their intricacies just like humans, elves, and Shay'din, are not without their weaknesses. As previously mentioned, Selarians do not breathe for whatever gas it is that humans and elves claim to draw forth whatever keeps their blood a healthy red. I have seen humans robbed of this from the inside out. I've seen that blue that looks so sick it makes my skin crawl.
I did not do it. I did not envy the fallen. But I did protect the magi that sent forth the waves of magic. Warriors of Akela block. We protect. Magi are very fragile creatures, be they channelers or elementists or even forgers. Selaria would not be renowned for their army of spell without the protection of the bracer.
This raw ambition, this raw anger at the loss of self that had been forced upon me ran so deep through my blood. I would be avenged. Selaria would be avenged, and Selaria's vengeance would be the vengeance of my entire world. It is said that Akela's Tears are all that protected the legendary warrior that took down Delonna. What brought Akela to cry? What can make a goddess, who allows her chosen to martyr themselves for nothing, cry?
The legends did not say. I believed anyway. However, at the moment, I was having a crisis of faith.
"Lenaris, Lenaris, Lenaris. Do you know the meaning of your name?" No expression, no response, and the woman stepped before me. My torturer stepped before me and I saw the eyes of my enemy. "It is a name with many meanings, I'm afraid none of them are especially horrible enough to fit a woman such as yourself. Though Lenari is the name of a flower, a flower with a silver core and white petals, that is only one of several ways one could create a name such as yours. It is a very powerful name, I hope you know. You've earned power, and power has been granted to you."
"I sacrificed my life for peace and balance, not for power. Akela asks no less. Akela gives no less. Akela would desire no less if she were here between us today." My words did not feel so hallow as they must have sounded. My wounds and the bizarre poison within them ached with a strange darkness that I could not place. As I felt my energy weaken, withheld and beyond by my bonds, there was a new energy creeping into me and it was not one I much approved of.
My torturer simply laughed. She was remarkable, but only for a Shay'din.
She was still my enemy.
Humans and Elves at a glance are obvious cousin races. One has slightly more pointed ears, angular features, and far more useful physical adaptations though a more shrunken and feeble frame. Other than that, the two are identical to the chagrin of the elves and to the humor of the humans. They may excel in different things, and one may live in their groves while the other lives a somewhat nomadic life, but . . . they are so closely bound that I'm sure when the first Selarians met humans, and then elves, they were confused that the two tribes demanded to be called by different names. Shay'din are just as close to Selarians, but they are nothing similar at a glance.
Selarians do not have blood. We have vitality, a silvery pure energy that leaks in the form of mist, fog, or vapor when a wound is incurred. Internal bleeding causes internal condensation, and it is not a lovely process. Selarians all have silver eyes that glow with the power of this vitality, though it is said that if a great enough injury is done to one's body or soul their eyes will gain a dull shimmer that would not impress the youngest of human children that will gawk at anything. No matter how much sun a Selarian is exposed to, their skin will never turn dark, and light does not hurt a Selarian's eyes.
None of this is true of a Shay'din.
Shay'din do not have blood either, but it is nothing such as a Selarian's vitality. Through a Shay'din's body flows a hot shadow, so full of wrath that if a wound is cut, the pooling shadow is often to melt away at clothing and if it drips, it has been said to even melt weaker armor and wood, at times even stone. Inside of a Shay'din, it swirls about like sulfur, but when released, it does not rise as does vitality.
No, this shadowy substance that is not liquid nor vapor moves like boiling magma when flesh is split asunder. It does not flow like blood, it rolls, it flows, but there seems to be more of it than a human's blood, and there are bits of that power within it, like melting rocks. Shay'din eyes are many colors, though they are variants of purple, yellow, and turquoise. Within them, one can see the sulfurous shadow swirl about their irises, and it is said that a powerful enough Shay'din can even harness and control this as a means to bewitch or seduce. It is always hauntingly beautiful, and in it lies a similarity to watching clouds on a lazy day.
Shay'din skin is eternally half-dark, but not so dark as some human tribes are known to get. It seems a variant of Selarian skin that some call olive. It meshes quite well with their hair that glitters as if it is filled with small pieces of stars. Their color of hair varies from Shay'din to Shay'din near as much as Selarian hair, which reaches all colors but blonde, but each shade is pastel.
This woman before me had long, long pastel teal air, that hung down to the backs of her knees. Her skin was a rich, creamy sort of olive tone that even though she was my enemy I would be tempted to touch her skin in passing. Her eyes, those oddly pleased eyes that stared into mine full of such delight and purpose were a wispy yellow, so light it almost appeared white. The clouds within were only slightly lighter, swirling, shifting like smoke atop a volcano. Her form and stance were that of a trained warrior, and though her armor had the look of ceremony I had no doubt that she could evolve it in a moment's notice to suitable for a battle. Dyed red leather clung to her like a second skin, and though it covered much of her, it somehow made it so there was less you would need to uncover.
The Knighthood of Delonna, no matter what one would say of its principals, was a force that fought with passion, drive, ambition, but a cold calculation that was nothing like the fiery race that Delonna had seemed to embody the very principals of. It was as if though throwing caution to the wind and becoming fire itself they had transcended passion's flaws. They had somehow made their greatest weakness their greatest strength.
How the Knighthood fell, is still half mystery.
"All well and good, warrior. Do you know what they call Warriors of Akela in Shay'dar? They call them Ake'shien, Akela's Shield. I have always found it awkward that Selarians who comprise the majority of Akela's ranks make it sound like more of a military force than one of protection. Is that not it's purpose?" Her voice taunted me from the inside out. I had to keep my head. My ambition, my new surge of power, my coming of age, would be all for naught if she somehow used it to her own advantage, and I was more than sure of this in a moment's notice.
She dropped her hand far too quickly, and now I was on edge. Her plan to twist my power, my plans to reform the legions of Akela's warriors, was one an infant could see through. "I will not fall, Knight. They are called such in Shay'dar, because your language is oddly devoid of subtlety. I wonder if your own poor use of your own language is why you handle mine so poorly."
"Point for you, Lenaris. Do you know where we are? Do you know where I have you kept until my job with you is done and I am to set you free to your adoring fans?" My head moved back and forth swiftly. No need to drag this out. She'd tire, she'd make mistakes if I allowed her to think things were going according to her poorly laid plans. "We are inside of one of the Isles of Tar, the closest to Shay'dar to be precise, in the stronghold where Delonna stayed the night of his defeat at the hands of... we need not go into old stories. But tell me, do you know the tale of the Isles?"
"Yes. There was once a land bridge between Selaria and Shay'dar. When Selaria's troops, combined with our Hutien allies, began to march across, and were finally pushing back the offensive that his warriors had lead right to the heart of Selaria, Delonna stood just beyond the halfway point. He rose a single hand, and the very seas glowed like shadow fire, and the armies were destroyed, as was the bridge. The nation of Talan'zi was leveled. Only five isles remained in it's place." I tried my best to keep my voice cool, and to say it all with a tone befitting a general under interrogation, but it was difficult. My captor's enchanted blade, still coated with my own life's energy, had begun to trail over my neck. "You won't frighten me."
She only raised an eyebrow in response for a long time. Her blade continued to move, to caress, just barely nicking the flesh there, but not even enough to make a single scar. She was good. This coupled with my lack of energy caused my lungs to try all the more desperately to take in more. Too many wounds like this, and I would die. There was no way to reverse the effects, and these shackles were drawing the life out of my wounds with sickening speed.
"If you are not frightened, abdicator, then you are a bigger fool than your Paladin friend. Incase you're curious, he believed he was turning you over to members of Salcom's cult, those pitiful acolytes. We'd been luring him into capturing you for us for some time. He has your sisters ear, you know. Controlling him means controlling her. One would think you would be the more likely target, but ah, my dear, would they not be wrong?" I gave a nod. "Your sister and you are far too removed. It is a shame. I can feel the desire raise in you when I even mention her. Selarians attraction to members of their own family has ever been a confusion to all of Shay'dar, care to explain?"
"You make it sound as if I would desire to breed with her! Intimacy and romance are two different things. If we let someone into our hearts, why not our bedchamber? As Akela dictates, love and consent are two necessities to peace. Peace must be held within a family, must it not?" One of my now black eyebrows rose, and I realized that I'd responded just how she'd wanted me to.
She was good.
For my sake, and for my sister's, I hoped that I was better. I would have to be.
"I am more subtle than you would think, Len-a-ris. Would you like to know the meaning of your name that I find most interesting, and it's origins? It is truly ancient, to tell you the truth. It dates back to the time where Akela walked the earth, or so people say. Regardless, Lenaris was Akela's daughter." This, was a story I had not heard before. I would argue it, but after the age of nightmares, the war of shadow, Shay'dar is the only nation with fully intact history. Selaria's grand library was sacked, but Shay'dar's was relocated before turn about could have its fair play.
Since I did not interrupt, I suppose that she figured I was giving her my permission to proceed. "Not in the figurative sense such as you, Lenaris was Akela's own flesh and blood born of her from a powerful sorceress, named Yerasi." I will take this moment to note, that due to the magical nature of Selarians, gender is not so much an issue for mating. Mayhaps that is why our race is filled with couples of either gender and others are not, though I would not claim to know enough about Shay'dins to argue for or against them.
Akela was said to have a consort that was a sorceress. She was said to be a woman of great wisdom and poor impulses. That is not to say that she had bad control over her impulses. As legends say, she had too much, and sat by as her own home was burned to the ground by Salcom himself. It was a trick of fear, and she was forgiven for it. It is a story few Warriors of Akela, or Selarians, soon forget.
Akela had been a Selarian when she had walked upon Mon Shale, after all.
"Lenaris, however, was not strong in sword or spell such as either of her parents. She was a pacifist, and was only said to have powers of healing and peace. It was said that when Salcom killed her with his own hooked blade, that was the one time Akela cried for her own sorrows, and the only time she ever showed rage. This rage was her undoing, but fortunate for us, it was also Salcom's. Mayhaps if Thyra's own rage had not been ever present and her quest for vengeance for the elves had not superseded her sense, Salcom's shock could have been his end and the goddesses to be may have remained alive for longer than they did. But mayhap, if they survived that battle, they would not have become goddesses at all."
She smiled, but it was a cruelly self important smile. "Lenaris, was the cause of Akela's greatest sorrow, greatest defeat, and greatest failing."
My whole body twitched. Was that the legacy my mother had gifted me with?! Had she even known? I found it doubtful. She had told me that my name meant consecrated by tears. While now this made sense, it did not say anything to her intentions. I had been born of two mothers, just as this legendary Lenaris had, but one had been a Sorceress, the one who had given me my last name and the throne before I passed it to my sole sibling, my sole sister. My other mother had been a simple chronicler with a sharp tongue who had the gall to make a passing comment in jest to the effect that she could not chronicle a princess' reign wholly without knowing her prowess in the bed chambers.
Apparently, royalty was easily impressed by playfully honest words. I don't suppose this has ever been any different and I don't think I'll love to see it change.
Neither were any less special to me. Both had taught me much. A small few of the remnants of Delonna's knighthood had killed them both and left my sister and I as orphans. She had witnessed their killing with her own eyes. I would have, had I trusted my predecessor, then General of Selaria. She had told me to stay close enough to my sister to be able to see the reflection of danger in her eyes. I chose a high vantage point, trusting in my acrobatic prowess. When the knights had stormed the room, I had been shoved off of my perch and bound, gagged and blinded, and then tossed out into the rain.
My sister had plenty of reason to hate me. Had I been there, she might not be scarred. Had I been there, our parents may not have been slain. We had always been close though, she had never let it get to her before that bastard Paladin had begun to speak into her ear with his snake's tongue. Oh how I hated him. He would surrender me to Salcom, his goddess' hated enemy, just to see me gone.
There was more at work here than any mortal knew, and I could sense it.
"So I am named, but I am not that Lenaris! I forsake the name regardless. That woman is dead. Would anyone believe I am her? I need not glance in a mirror. Blackened hair and reddened eyes. I look not like the flower I did before. Mayhaps my ill luck is gone, or mayhaps it has turned from ill luck for me to ill luck for my kin." In my bonds, I shrugged. "It is not for me to know."
"Stubborn, foolish warrior. I had hoped it would not come to this. I had hoped to find a chink in your armor that I could exploit. I realize now that such a thing would be a joke, for you wear no armor. Is it true that all Warriors are trained to be martyrs?"
Slowly my head bobbed an affirmative nod. "Aye, so it is."
"Good. Then this will be easier for you, my dear one. For you may not believe it, but I love you. You are my distant cousin, and if Delonna taught us anything, it is that true power comes not from a goddess. It comes not from one race. It comes not from one person though one person may be an example for all to follow. Oh, if he could be alive now to see this. Had he chosen to be a prince in Selaria, all might be different." She let out a sigh, and trailed a hand down my cheek that for the life of me I was not tempted to bite.
But I could not hold back my laughter, try as I did. "Delonna, a prince of Selaria? Delonna was a foolish Shay'din runt born of shadow and grime."
Yet, she shook her head. There was a truth to what she said, and from the grin on her face, I could tell she could not hide it from me. "For why do you think half bloods are distrusted so heavily? For why do you think that even still, Selarians fear those within their borders more than those without? For why did the low bow begin?"
Our eyes locked. It wasn't possible. It simply wasn't.
I was not fighting against my own blood!
"Yes, my flower. Yes, my child famed for her tears. For a time, Shay'dar and Selaria were united in the marriage of their leaders. From it, Delonna was born. Both sides took a consort of their own race. Delonna was to rule the nation between. They were his own people that he sacrificed. Delonna was as much Selarian royalty as are you."
She paused, and her nose pressed to mine, as though she meant to tempt me with her lips, but it was too late. I had forgotten why I did not want to lock with those eyes before. Those clouds were too purposeful. This woman was too strong.
"And I, am his daughter."
