Return of the Darkness Page 6

  “Times were different then, and although he still thinks I am making a huge mistake in having you here, he has agreed to meet you,” she replied clearly showing some concern as to what her parents thought.

  “And if he decides he still doesn’t like me?” he asked stopping before they re-entered the main building.

  “Well, that’s up to him. I have made my decision and lost my son once, I will not do so again,” she said sounding quite defiant.

  Inside the same room, as he had been in the previous evening, they sat opposite each other, joining a table that was already partly occupied. Finley noticed a few of the elves stare his direction as if he had been the topic of their conversation before his arrival. However, rather than ask what they were looking at, he quietly waited for the food to arrive. They did not have to wait for long, as a young elven lady brought over a tray and placed it between them. Finley looked at what was on offer, almost disappointed at what he was looking at.

  He looked up and noticed his mother looking at him, and quickly forced a smile as if trying to make out all was fine, but she had already detected his disapproval. “You are probably hoping for bacon or sausages?” she said with a grin.

  Finley smiled back, nodding as he did, “I was kind of hoping we might get something different other than fruit,” he replied reluctantly taking a few slices of apple. His mother looked at him as if deep in thought, “As a race we rarely eat any meat. However, we do have some in stores for our orcish friends. I can get some cooked for you if you wish?”

  Although tempting, Finley thought that he did not want to be a burden, and so politely refused saying the fruit would be fine.

  There was tea to drink, which generally he did not mind, only the elven variation of it, was also not particularly to his liking. He realised while he ate breakfast the list of questions he had piling up in his head was getting longer by the minute. Each time his mother spoke there was always something he did not understand, a person he did not know, or a place he had never heard of. Yet for all this, the only question he actually asked, was to enquire where Galdrac might be.

  Breakfast finished rather quickly as his mother explained they had a long day ahead and much still to do before they left. Apparently, there were a few others travelling with them, who were already preparing the horses and supplies for the trip. Meanwhile, they needed to go and pay a visit to his elven grandparents, although he was warned to expect a somewhat frosty reception.

  Finley’s mother hooked her arm with his own and led him out of the main doors, down a wide path flanked either side by flowers in full bloom. Finley got a good look at Neylarin as they walked along a tree-lined street. The buildings were all spread out and immaculately clean, as were the wide cobbled streets that crisscrossed the route they took. The elven capital was certainly like no other place Finley had ever seen, and yet despite all its colour and cleanliness, he wasn’t sure he would like to live there.

  They stopped outside a large white timber built home, surrounded by another immaculately kept lawn and garden. Dozens of trees were dotted around, with branches that drooped strange long looking leaves almost down to the ground. “Come on, let us go and meet your grandparents,” she said looking and sounding as nervous as Finley felt. How did you greet someone who had not even wanted you born?

  They did not knock on the large white doors, but merely let themselves in, although Finley let his mother take the lead. After entering into a bright and airy hallway also filled with plants, they turned through an archway into what Finley assumed was the main living area. Long cushioned chairs that curved up slightly at one end were positioned around a low table at one end, while a long table with tall-backed wooden seats took up most of the space at the other.

  Standing close by were two elves. One male, one female, who to look at, Finley would have thought no more than thirty or forty years old; only he knew that they were more likely to be at least forty or fifty years older than that. “Leyna!” the female elf said with a warm smile, stepping forward and giving Finley’s mother a hug. After sharing a short embrace, their attention turned to Finley, “Mother, Father this is my son, your grandson!”

  Finley gave a small rather bashful looking smile, and a rather weak sounding “Hi!” He looked at the faces of his so-called grandparents looking for some iota of emotional reaction. His grandfather was clearly not a happy chap, and Finley doubted he even wanted him there. His grandmother though was very different in her behaviour, although Finley felt it perhaps a little forced and over the top as if she were trying to compensate for her husband.

  She stepped forward and took Finley by the hand. Although he was only fifteen years old, he already stood much taller than any other in the room, a point immediately made by his grandmother. He felt a little uncomfortable as his grandmother eyed him up and down as if inspecting him to see which bits were acceptable and which not. “Human size,” she said as much to herself as anybody else, “Oh and look at those eyes. Quite beautiful,” she added staring straight into them. “You would never know he was a half-breed,” was the final comment made, before she released his hand and stood back beside her husband.

  “Does he have a calling?” His grandfather asked, finally deciding to speak, although having made no attempt at a greeting.

  “No, not yet. When I get home I will attempt to awaken him,” his mother said.

  “He may not even have any abilities,” his grandmother added.

  “I am a druid of note, his father a powerful shaman. His grandparents both druids of power, I’m sure he would have inherited something. I guess only time will tell.”

  “He is not elf, nor is he human. Perhaps nature keeps us apart for a reason, and he will not be blessed with any powers,” his grandfather replied.

  Finley stood there, the centre of conversation, being talked about but never talked to. He felt quite annoyed, thinking he may as well not even have been there, and somewhat disappointed, especially with his mother, whom he thought better than that. Clearly he did not know her at all, and for the first time, he felt doubts as to whether he should even be there. As his grandfather had so bluntly pointed out, he was neither elf nor human, and perhaps did not fit well in either place. As for all this talk of callings and awakening, druids and shamans, he had no clue as to what they were talking about.

  Eventually, he felt his mother place a hand on his shoulder, “This is my son Father, please accept that. You made me give him up once, I have no intention of doing so again,” he heard his mother saying a little louder and aggressively than he had heard her speak before. “Come on Finley, we’re going,” she said grabbing his arm and pulling him back towards the entrance. His grandmother scurried after them and caught up just as they moved outside into the garden, “Please wait!” she called, causing them to stop.

  Finley was once more the bystander, as his mother and grandmother once more started an entirely new conversation. “Give your father time to adapt,” he heard his grandmother saying, almost pleading with her daughter.

  “The problem is with him, mother. He either accepts who Finley is, and what he is or else I shall not return,” he heard his mother reply angrily. He watched as his grandmother’s shoulders dropped as if in defeat, before asking them to wait one moment and scurrying back indoors.

  She emerged just a few seconds later carrying a long wooden pole. “Please take this, if he…Finley has an ability he will need something through which to channel it.”

  Whatever the large stick was, it was clearly a gift of some importance and significance, as it brought his mother to tears. “Thank you, Mother,” she said stepping forward and giving her a big hug. Finley was handed the long stick, although for what purpose he was not really sure. He did, however, thank his grandmother. Quite why he needed a staff, when he had a sword and bow back at the other building, he was not sure. Yet he tried to look pleased and thankful in receiving it, before finally following his mother out of the garden and back across the city.

  On re
turning, several large white horses were lined up. Some were laden with supplies, others already with riders sat upon them, none of whom Finley recognised. Apparently, Galdrac was not travelling with them, at least not yet, as he was nowhere to be seen. “I have had your things packed,” his mother said, pointing to one of the horses, where he could just make out his bow poking from amongst the bundles tied to the saddle. “You may ride Swiftwind,” she added. Finley had no idea what or who Swiftwind was, and said as much.

  His mother smiled, “This is Swiftwind,” she replied stepping up to one of the horses. “I thought it appropriate you should ride this horse. He is the offspring of my own over there,” she said pointing to another that looked, at least as Finley could see, just like the rest. Finley gave a wry smile. Did she expect him to ride this horse? Riding was definitely not something in which he was overly skilled and felt a little panicked at the thought.

  He stepped up to the majestic looking creature, “Hello Swiftwind,” he uttered under his breath, patting the magnificent beast on the neck. The horse turned its head slightly as if looking at him, before nodding it up and down slightly, acknowledging the greeting. Finley took a deep breath before placing his foot into one of the stirrups and pulling himself up into the saddle. The elf holding the horse lifted the reins over and handed them to him. He placed his new staff into a special strap that made it poke out above his head, although it certainly made carrying the object much easier as it freed up both his hands.

  With no idea which direction he should be going, Finley waited for a few of the others to make a move, before gingerly kicking his heels into the flanks of his own horse in the hope it knew what to do. Once underway, his mother trotted up beside him, “We should be home late tomorrow evening if all goes well. I hope we do not need to spend more than a single night out in the wilds,” she said. Before he even had a chance to ask why the explanation followed.

  Apparently, not all elven lands were safe, and the further they got from the capital, the more dangerous they became. Finley was about to ask why his mother lived in such a place if it was fraught with danger, but she explained that as well. As an elf of nobility she was in charge of a certain area of elven lands, and responsible for the protection of the people who lived there. However, of late, the darkness had been encroaching again, and several attacks had resulted in a number of deaths. Being a druid of some reputable strength, it was supposedly up to her to keep such dangers at bay. “Your father was a brave man, and very highly skilled,” she added not actually saying what it was that he had done so impressively.

  As they passed through an elaborate arched gateway, he realised they were moving out of the city and into the wilds. The lands here were similar to those he was used to, with tall trees flanking the road they were using. The similarity actually made him feel a little more comfortable as Swiftwind trotted ever so obediently behind the other horses.

  He noticed a few at the front of the line had strange curved bows slung across their backs, and wondered whether, perhaps in hindsight, that he should have had his own at hand, as opposed to the long pole that was currently there. His mother seemed intent on making up for lost time as she fired off a constant number of questions. His favourite foods, hobbies, type of clothes, favourite colour were all topic of conversation. Embarrassingly she even enquired as to whether there had been a special girl in his life. This particular question had made him blush, and thankfully was the only one on the subject.

  Chapter 10.

  With the capital firmly behind them, they passed through several smaller communities, all of which were set in the surrounding woodland. Whereas the human settlements were built in forest clearings, the elves seemed to have constructed theirs amongst the trees. Finley thought it a little strange, but then again perhaps they considered the way humans lived just as bizarre.

  Although he answered all the questions his mother asked him, he did wish she would allow him to ask a few of his own. All the talk of magic had him intrigued, yet he knew so very little on the subject. His mother was a druid, as were his grandparents, while his father had apparently been a shaman, and he had absolutely no idea what either of them meant. Aside from Galdrac explaining the elves powering the Waygates were called arcanists, the only other magical person he had seen was the old man himself; although he didn’t even know into which category he fell.

  After a stopping beside a briskly running stream to allow the horses a well-earned drink, Finley noticed that his mother ordered a couple of the leading riders to move ahead of the group. Each time they returned, two others then darted off to take their place. Finley was beginning to think that the warning of the elven lands not being safe was probably far worse than he had first envisaged. There was always some threat when out in the wilderness, maybe a wolf or bear lurking around in the shadows looking for its next meal. Here, however, sending scouts out to check the road ahead, indicated to him that there were indeed far worse dangers than wild animals.

  After a long day in the saddle, something he was far from used to, Finley was glad to finally stand on his own two feet. After removing the saddle and tack from Swiftwind, he brushed him down, before tying him to a post beside his mother’s horse, allowing him to graze while the camp was set. An elven camp was certainly far different from that which Finley was used to. Whereas he was happy throwing his cloak on the ground beside a small fire, the elves did things on a much grander scale.

  Two white canvas tents were put up in a matter of minutes, yet no fire was made, something he found odd indeed. However, several strange posts were positioned around camp, and Finley watched with some interest as one of the elves riding with the group created small balls of bluish energy, all channelled through what he could only describe as a short pointy stick. Each ball of energy gave off an eerie kind of light, and although it was not yet fully dark, were already taking effect.

  The entire camp was set and ready within just half an hour, and even two strange looking folding tables were placed at the centre, allowing food to be put out. Unsurprisingly, this once more consisted of fruit, although there was also some strange looking bread. This was flat and contained some kind of seeds within, and although it didn’t look overly appetising, Finley thought he would take a piece just to have something different.

  Finley watched the elves with some interest. Each appeared to have a task, and each carried it out without any fuss. He noticed a few take-up positions around the camp perimeter, each carrying their bows as if expecting some kind of trouble. Thinking if that was going to be the case then he should probably prepare accordingly. He walked over to where his few belongings had been stacked and picked up his sword and knife before strapping them to his waist. He then picked up his bow and quiver of arrows, and although it looked somewhat a poor imitation of those carried by the elves, Finley felt confident it would do what he needed it to.

  His mother looked a little surprised to see him geared up for a fight, “Going somewhere?” she said softly, with a look of uncertainty on her face. “Just thought I would be prepared,” Finley replied. “I’m sure we will be fine my dear, we just have the guards out for precaution.” Finley nodded, although he thought his mother hardly sounded convinced of her own words. Just to keep her happy, he nodded and placed his bow and quiver off to one side, but kept it close by just in case.

  As the last of the daylight disappeared, the strange globes of energy he had seen being cast earlier, really took effect. The camp was lit up, but not in a bright dazzling way, as the magic gave off a soft blue light that allowed them to see. Being the son of Leyna, an elf of some standing, he was naturally afforded one of the small tents to sleep in, although before he did, his mother had, even more, questions for him.

  However, Finley thought it time he had some answers to his own questions and asked if his mother minded. Naturally, she agreed, and though he had been thinking of so many things to ask, found deciding which to ask more difficult than he had thought. After glancing at one of the blue lights, he mad
e a choice and enquired about magic.

  Despite all the aches and pains, and feeling fatigued, Finley listened with interest as his mother described a few different types of magic. A druid, such as herself was somebody who was at one with nature. Apparently, these were people who could not only communicate with animals but could also utilise the power of the sun and moon.

  “What kind of animals?” Finley asked.

  “Anything from a tiny mouse to one of the great dragons of the north.”

  “Dragons? They’re not real…are they?”

  Finley watched his mother chuckle, “Of course they are my dear. Just because so very few people have ever seen them, does not mean they don’t exist.”

  “Have you ever seen one?”

  “Once. When I was much younger, although no druid has made a link with one for several centuries,” she added.

  With so much information to take in, each answer given just seemed to lead to more questions. After describing arcanists, they then moved onto mages, which apparently was the category that Galdrac fell into. These sorcerers could channel all kinds of energy, some even manifesting fire. “Your father was a shaman.” These were able to influence the air around them, as well as the earth at their feet.