Varlarsaga Volume 1 - Escape

Chapter 9 Alone Amongst Many.

High in a lofty tower of the Halls of Elfame where tall, arched windows and portals opened to balconies that gave views of sea and sky and the grassy shoulders of Gramen Trum, the triple peaked mounts eastward, were gathered a throng of Elloræ peoples.

The king and queen of Elfame, together sat upon chairs bound and woven of curving woods that yet seemed living, as if the heart of trees were there within, still growing.

And close by Elberl and Goldal, stood Aneurin Foamhair, Morgan Seawanderer, and the white robed figure of Talba Brighteyes: thoughtful, watchful, and silent.

Silval Birdwing was there, his green-clad arm resting on the curl of Goldal's throne where she, likewise dressed in the colours of their forest home, held a wand of white and purple foxglove, twined about with silvery thread.

Others crowded that long, oval room: Malva and Mîren Yellow-morn of the sea-elves, and with them Galidor of Niniath, Filma and Falnir and three of the ruddy-faced brownies, the Booca, their brows crowned with verbena and ivy, prince Clovell and his Pechts, those pixies where scampered Dalen, Bim upon his shoulder.

And several others, pointed out by Elvra as she escorted Corin through their ranks toward the king and queen.

‘That is Darion of Veleth, noble amongst those of my kin who now dwell in Daw Nolor,’ she said, guiding him forward. ‘And these two are Ladimar and Ellion, dear friends of mine.’

The elvess drew Corin on. He, all bewildered by the sight of those she named: Elfhild, Timbrion and Fleta, Ælroth and Ælmar and many, many more. Too many for him to recall, as their faces fleeted past.

Only, whilst he walked amongst them, was he left with an impression: a comfort and delight to be in their company, a safety in their fair eyes. These folk needed no crown, nor garment, to mark them as high. Their bearing was more than enough. True, they bore gems and fillets about their person, but these merely enhanced the purity beneath. In all that oval meeting place, Corin had never met better, and he was at once abashed, shy and filled with wonder. And he was shamed, in a sense, for he felt lost and lonely as anyone might, brought into the presence of a people unknown.

Then Elvra stood away from him, and Corin was alone before the branched chairs of Elberl and Goldal.

‘Let he who is of Men's Realm address us in the tongue he knows, for that tongue is a part of speech which we recall well enough,’ said Elberl, his voice rolling like ocean waves. ‘Come, tell us why it was that you were in such loathsome place as those infested caverns. Surely your blind courage brought you there, or were you imprisoned beneath those stony eaves? Were you seeking some way in, or out?’

‘I was imprisoned, yes,’ answered Corin. ‘But not in the mountains, folk of my land Ravenmoor, name the Tumberimber.’ He paused a moment as a single bird trilled far off, and then all became quiet. After that, he began. ‘My given name is Mylor, I am, or was, a Prince: the son of the King of Ravenmoor, and heir to his throne. My Father is Erryldene, and my Mother Belda, his Queen. I am a runaway, and no longer claim throne or country or name. But to answer all you ask, I must begin with my earliest memories. They are filled with days of running and climbing, time spent in my mother's arms, the warmth of fires in winter and gardens in summer; the safety of The Hollydown, a green, tree-lined place within the boundaries of Penda. Penda is a mighty stronghold of grey stone that stands atop the cliffs of Berry Bay, overlooking the southern seas.

In clear weather, as a child, I used to climb the steps of the towers that stand facing the ocean and look out: Beautiful and threatening was that sight. And perilous too, for the waves that roll into Berry Bay through the narrow ways known as The Wave Race, break over hidden shoals and reefs. Further out between the headlands there stands a mighty rock, Gley Inch, rising to a great height: mist enshrouded, bleak and barren. Only sea birds nest there, since none that I know of ever managed to reach and scale its sheer cliffs. Indeed, as I was told when a child, all the brave sailors that ever ventured forth, foundered in the bay and many lost their lives there, so that none in my time dared try.' 

Corin bent his head, lifting his hands to cup his ears. 'During those early days of my memory, I first began to hear The Voices. I say hear, though perhaps feel, might be a better way of expressing that which seemed to come from within me, outside of me and around me, whether waking or in sleep. When I asked others: Mother and Father, my uncle and aunts, they smiled or hugged me to them, calling The Voices nothing more than a child's dream-game. Soon enough, I learned not to speak of such things, for it was plain that none but I could hear Them.’ Corin sighed, a feeling of healing creeping into his limbs. ‘Still, The Voices did not go away.’

‘And what did these Voices say unto you?’ asked Morgan, his aged eyes glinting.

‘The Voices called to me of far away and long ago, filling me even then with an aching. A longing and desire to turn from the sea, to gaze landward over the game forests and the low hills dotted by thatched roofs that were the cottages of Mydarrow, the nearest village to Penda. And it seemed then that The Voices whispered, "Follow, follow the road, and see anew." When I dared, I would ask my Father, or Uncle Arleas, what lay that way?  And both would tell me to be patient. That one day I should be of an age to ride with them, to the villages north, hunting the wild creatures of the forests.

Yet not before I had learned to master horse, wield a bow and heft a sword and staff, alongside my Cousin Ordrick; the son of Aunt Hulda and Uncle Arleas. Sometimes, when at play with Ordrick, I would let slip some mention of The Voices, and he would laugh and scoff at me and run to tell his father. As I grew from childhood, The Voices haunted me by day and night, so that most who dwelt in Penda watched me with suspicion, even fear, in their eyes. Once, I overheard a whispered conversation between Reethian, my Father's councillor and leech, and Uncle Arleas, in which my name and the word "madness" were linked.

Still, it was beyond my power to control The Voices, especially when I slept. On several occasions I was found wandering the courts or standing atop the battlements, staring into the north with unseeing eyes.

From then on, the door of my bedchamber was locked and Cecren, an aged matron who had been my nursery-maid, sat with me through each night, until she complained to Father that it was too much to bear: listening to my mutterings and outcries. After those times, it was clear to me that my parents were growing ever more alarmed. Why, even Mother would turn from me, wringing her hands with worry, her face clouded in doubt.

I became a prisoner of the dark.  Whilst by day I was seldom left alone. Many, I guess, were the tales and rumours abroad of Prince Mylor and the madness that possessed him. In my turn, I became lonely amongst the many, and frightened. Yet I was helpless, as helpless as now, to halt The Voices.’

‘And what of your father, this king of men?’ asked Elberl. ‘Was he not wise enough to treat you with some kindness? What was in his mind, that he should not attempt to understand you, his son and heir?’

‘I cannot say,’ Corin replied. ‘Perhaps he still cherished some hope that I would grow out of the spells that bound me, and come to manhood whole, to be the future king of Ravenmoor after him. Whatever his thoughts, I was set against Ordrick: both of us pupils to Reethian, that we might learn the manly arts together, and in competition. So, my Cousin and I became unwilling companions under Reeth's control. And where Ordrick excelled, I was the slower to learn, for my mind flew with the birds of the Hollydown. They were free to wing where they would and I yearned after them. By that time, my fears of The Voices had abated, since They seemed to have become at one with me. And like the wild creatures that roamed unhindered, so did I desire. When not at the tasks set me I wandered, observed I suppose, through the long walks of the Hollydown, feeding the small animals in their shady haunts and talking to the birds. Others of my age shunned me in their games, whilst Ordrick became leader in all manner of ventures and sports. So I fell further behind: an outcast amongst my peers, smirked at by the girls, spied on by the elders, and dominated by Reeth.

True, he taught me how to bend a bow and send a shaft to the target; how to handle staff and short blade, how to sit a horse, but he had small love of such teaching. Small love, since he knew that he had not reached me in the way my Father wished. My body did as was told to do, yet my mind became ever less to Reeth's ministering. I could not disguise those times when The Voices came. And when They did, I was lost to Them: to Their call, as I am still. But for Them, I might never have dared to flee. Never have met with Morgan, Silval and Elvra. Never have come to these wondrous shores.’

‘And what happed you when this taskmaster Reeth caught you out?’ asked Goldal kindly, when Corin paused for breath.

‘Why, he worked me the harder; locked away from my Mother and the King, in his private quarters: the tower where he dwelt, or below, in his enclosed court. True, Reeth taught me some herbal lore and the ways of birds and animals, though only as much as was needed to track, hunt, snare and trap. I learned how to kill. And I learned not what my heart and mind desired; how to live at peace amongst those timid creatures. How to be at one with them and gain their trust. I wanted to understand the ways of the wild, not destroy it.’

Corin's face clouded, as if memory of the past still distressed him. ‘Slowly I began to despise Reeth, and his heartless ways. He reminded me of an old wolf prowling at my back, red eyes always upon me, his grey hair and beard like a shaggy coat. But as time went by, I came to see that unless I proved myself to his satisfaction, I would only lengthen my stay under his control. Ordrick was already riding with the men at hunt and had taken his place beside Arleas at my Father's table in the hall of feasting. So I set about my lessons that much harder, and eventually earned Reeth's grudging praise. I was freed from his domination and allowed to rejoin those of the King's Court, though never did I feel less comfortable, even in the company of my Father and Mother. I was aware that all watched my every move, no matter where I went.'

Here Corin drew his hands from his face and clasped them together, entwining his long fingers. 'Then came a day that I had yearned for, yet dreaded. The day of my first hunt. I say yearned for, since it meant that I should ride with my Father and Prince Arleas down the long road that led into the north, where The Voices had so often beckoned. And still I dreaded that journey because it would end in death, the death of some wild and free creature. And as I thought on that, it came to me that I was like unto the animals of the land, insomuch as it was my one desire to be free and roam where I would. Since, to kill for the sake of killing seemed nothing more than murdering a part of myself; but I had little choice. If I refused to accompany the hunting party, I risked my Father's displeasure and would certainly have been turned over once more to Reethian. All I could do was hope that the hunt failed; that no quarry be found, as sometimes happened, and the ordeal be over. So it was that on a chilly morn we rode off: men, horses, dogs and prey-birds.’

Corin halted, wringing his hands, his eyes misted over. Then, as if in a dream he continued, ‘Erryldene my Father, and Uncle Arleas rode at the head. Arleas carried his bird, a hawk named Hebog, upon his arm. The hawk resembles him: dark eyes, hooked beak, furtive, darting head, haughty carriage. Not at all like Erryldene. He sat erect and kingly noble, yet he and Arleas are brothers this wise; both have like minds. Both desire that which they consider the good of the Kingdom: power to rule, and to make sure of the rule to come. Yet I was certain that Uncle Arleas considered himself and his son fit for such task, more so than I could ever be. As for my Father, I guessed that he held hopes of my acquitting myself well in the field. And that, of course, meant bringing down a deer or other creature.

The further we rode across the dewy meadows named Lann, the greater my fear grew. The baying of the hounds and the rattle of horse and rider dimmed in my ears as The Voices took their place, filling me with a sudden urge to break away and flee, to seek shelter somewhere in the unknown. But that was not to be. Quillet, the Captain of my Father's guard, sat horse at my side, keeping a watchful eye on both Ordrick and I.

Midway through the morning, we reached the shallows of the river Nith after it joined the Fenny-Flowing, having passed through Mydarrow into lands that I had never before seen. In answer to my question, the Captain informed me that we were making for King's Ford, the next village on, and thence to the Weald; a wood that stretched eastward toward the foothills.

No sooner had we arrived beneath the lee of those trees than the dogs caught a scent and were off in pursuit. Arleas and my Father bade Ordrick and I to the fore, whilst they followed at a steady pace, bows drawn. For a fleeting moment, the sun splashing through leaves and the wind in my face filled me with a wild joy. Yet next, that joy had turned to horror. The dogs had cornered a many-tined stag at the base of a huge oak and there, snapping and snarling, they held it at bay. I remember Ordrick shouting at me to take the first shot, and the feel of the bow and shaft between my fingers. I remember letting both fall from my hands and his cry of outrage at me as he raised his own bow. Somehow, out of anguish at the animal's plight, I managed to dash Ordrick's weapon from his grasp, our horses locked together, breaking amongst the dogs. Then all was confusion. The stag leapt free, crashing through the hounds and horses in a panic. Bows twanged and arrows flew wildly. The deer charged for its life.

There was a sudden scream: a mingled scream of steed and rider, and through the haze of tears and terror, I saw Father's mount rear and tumble, crushing him beneath its bulk.

The stag fled into the thickets whilst the houndsmen called their dogs to them, and the others of the hunting party drew up beside my Father, where he lay unmoving. His horse, unharmed, struggled to its feet, where Ordrick caught up the bridle and led it aside. It was then, of certain, that Arleas in rage would have struck me; perhaps even slain me, if Captain Quillet had not intervened. As it was, Quillet took me swiftly away out of my Uncle's reach, whilst he turned his attention to Father; yet not before he laid the blame squarely upon me for what had occurred.’

Corin hung his head in shame, but the elves yet looked at him with kindness in their eyes. ‘It was my fault,’ he sighed. ‘If I had slain the deer, Father would not have fallen.’

‘How can you know that for sure?’ asked the Queen of Elfame. ‘Nothing is that certain. At the time you did what you felt you must, and that was to give the creature a chance of escape; a thing you much desired for yourself.’

‘Aye, I wished for freedom,’ he answered, lifting his face to meet Goldal's searching gaze. ‘Never more so than during the time that followed. Captain Quillet escorted me on the return to Penda, where I was given over to Reeth. News of the accident had reached those walls ere we arrived, and the few who met us treated me with utter disdain. Even my Mother had nothing to say to me. I fear that she too had come to the end of her patience at my behaviour, and was much concerned for Father's condition. I tried to tell her what had been in my mind, but she dismissed me with an angry rebuke and turned away to make preparations for Erryldene's return. Locked out of harms way in Reethian's tower, I could but look down to the central court when Arleas and the others brought Father home. I remember his still form, so frail he seemed, as they lifted him from the dray and carried him up the steps that led to the Royal chambers. Reeth was amongst the throng, fussing about, ordering folk this way and that, and conversing briefly with my Uncle. Then they were gone from sight, following my Father within.

Through the days that followed, meals were given me in stony silence by servants, and I had no news other than what my eyes beheld from the window. Many people had gathered in Penda, coming in from the outlands to enquire of the King's health, I guessed, and as they waited, so did I. That alone was a punishment for me.

I, out of all in the Kingdom of Ravenmoor, was left to dwell on my thoughts and fears without comfort. Sorrow and remorse gripped me. I had caused my own Father a frightful hurt, to what extent I did not know, and what could I do to make amends? Even The Voices, when They came, aided me but little. They called, though I could not answer, and in my plight I began to fear Them somewhat and wonder if, in truth, I was not possessed by a madness.

Eventually, Reethian came to see me, and it was he who told me that my Father was out of danger and would live. I was overjoyed at the news, but the King's councillor cautioned me. All in Penda considered me disgraced and it was deemed wise that I remain within the confines of Reeth's chambers until my Father's pleasure. And so again I waited, biding my time in the knowledge that none, Mother and Father included, wanted anything to do with me.

The long days dwindled by, during which time I saw only Reeth or those who brought food to me.

Then, one night, I was woken from an uneasy sleep by the old man and told to follow him. Reeth led me from his tower, through the court, and beyond to the King's hall. He carried no light with him, nor did we speak. The moon was up, but we walked in shadow beneath the walls. I was bewildered and still half asleep when we reached the steps that bordered the entrance. Within, past the antechamber, lay the great hall, all in darkness but for a single rack of candles that burned at the far end.

There, upon the king's throne, sat my Father; his face hidden by the hood of his robe. He bade me approach, and as I did, I caught sight of two others standing in the gloom. My heart sank when I recognised Captain Quillet, and then Uncle Arleas, and fearfully I wondered what was to happen. A shiver ran through me then, as my Father commanded me to step closer, that he might look upon my face, and I felt the point of a blade at my back. As I was prodded forward by Reeth's knife, my Father threw back his hood and I saw him clearly: old he looked, old and hoar; his eyes were sunken in a sallow skin, his wrists and hands, gaunt.

I asked what was to become of me? Did they truly consider me mad?

For answer, Arleas laughed aloud. "Mad, untrustworthy and weak," he called me, the candle light glinting on his sword.

But Erryldene cut him short, saying that I was not to be harmed. Instead, it had been decided that I should be imprisoned for the rest of my life, so that I would never come to the throne as king of Ravenmoor. That right was to fall to Uncle Arleas, on my Father's death, and thence to Ordrick after him. For the good of all the realm, they said. Astonished, I could only plead my innocence, for as I have told in truth, I had never meant a harm to any. Yet what could I say or do to appease them? My Father so disposed, and Arleas determined to have an end to my claim for his own purposes. I did not want to be a king. I only wanted to be free. And thus did I beg of them: yet none of those four there were moved a wit. Prince Mylor was to vanish that night, never to be seen again. That they had decided between them.’

Corin shivered, even though the high tower was warmed by morning sun out of the west, and he began to pace in silence for a time. The elves too, aware of the mood that had overtaken him, remained patiently quiet, whilst he struggled with his memories.

At last he began again, and his voice was low and sad. ‘Nothing I could say would dissuade Father. I knew, in his eyes, in all their eyes, that I had done a wrong. I knew too, that they thought me not fit for the role set out as my duty and fate in Ravenmoor. Yet I could not understand the cruelty of such decision. Again I begged for freedom, that I might take flight to the ends of the realm and forsake all else. Uncle Arleas laughed openly at that, and Reeth muttered into Father's ear. Quillet said nought, merely attending me closely, his hand upon my shoulder, though I knew well enough that if I made any to escape, he would have taken me by the scruff of the neck. I was helpless in their power. None could aid me, that was certain, since all had been conducted in secret in the dead of night. Those four, Erryldene my Father, Arleas my Uncle, Reethian my tutor, and Quillet, Captain of the King's guard, had plotted it so.

And I saw how easily my disappearance could be explained. Disturbed by Father's accident, and The Voices I had spoken of in my childhood, I could have simply wandered in sleep and fallen from the walls, down into Berry Bay, and thence been washed out to sea. None, my Mother included, could have guessed it otherwise. Horrified, I made a final plea. "The wrongs that I have done were those of gentleness and kindness. I care for other living creatures, that they be not doomed for mere sport. I am as I am, whatever. I cannot change that. Yet do not condemn me to a living death for something that you cannot understand." ’

Corin turned from the elves, and a fear and a fury lay in his eyes and words. ‘My Father seemed to curdle, almost to wince, as if I had struck some key of compassion and, for a moment, I felt that he wavered. But then he spoke for the last time. "A living death," he said. "You have given me that!" And he swept aside the robe that covered his legs, where they dangled uselessly from the throne seat. "Since the hunt, since your foolishness, your final stupidity, my legs are as wasteful to me as a son who has not the backbone to draw bow and come to manhood. I cast you out, you dreamer of dreams. You hearer of mouthless voices! Son you are to me, but I will never allow that to mist my judgement for the good and well-being of this realm. You have ruined me twice-over, first with a madness of your own and second with this loss: see these wooden legs, these leaden feet! Know you this hollow heart! Aye and so it has become, towards you. You have not done as I would have you do. And son or no, you shall pay the penalty for my loss, and if there is a madness within you, then restraint, rather than death outright will be your fate. Take him away!"

On that instant, I saw no longer my Father, but a vengeful, wounded man. And in his eyes had come a finality. Quillet took me away in silence, leading me beyond the throne where Erryldene sat, hooded again and muttering to Uncle Arleas and Reethian. The Captain of the King's Guard ushered me through the door that led below, into the stone beneath Penda. And there we passed many rooms of the next level, until we came to a locked door which he opened, pushing me inside. Darkness met me there until he drew forth a rack of candles that lit a dank passage falling by many steps before us. Down them I was forced, prodded on, step by step. It was a far distance into cold and slime encrusted depths. And there were other doors, each of which he held a key to, so that we ventured further until three had been locked behind.

The passage of steps wound on. How far they reached I cannot say, but at a sharp bend Quillet bade me halt and there unlocked the door beyond which I was to remain; a forgotten prisoner. Within, by the light of the candles, lay a tiny chamber of sparse furnishing: a straw bunk, a bench and chair, a blanket or two, and such needed for the simplest of functions. Locking me inside he told of flint and tinder, that I might light that meagre cell from a store of tapers to give me sight through nights unending. And of the narrowest of airshaft to bring me shadow of day, beyond the sea washed cliffs.

So it was that I began my imprisonment, lost from sight to all but Quillet. In secret he alone visited me during the late nights, bringing food and drink, water to wash, clothing and blankets; the merest comforts. He was kind enough to me. As kind as he was allowed, I suppose. And on rare times, he would bring me some simple thing: a leaf from a tree, a bird's feather, a rounded pebble from a far stream. That was all I knew of the world outside, and with each bit of horse hair, each string of twine, each strip of bark, Quillet allowed me vision of things that were otherwise lost to me. I gathered them all, fashioned those little gifts so that they gave me pleasure. And remembered.

All, all that I was given, came pushed through a hatch in the door. Never did that door open over times of frost-biting winters and warmer months when the damp dried and the faint sun light slid into my cell. I was forgotten utterly. Abandoned, but for The Voices that still came to me, calling, calling: ever and on. How long, how long was I there? It is something now that I cannot tell.

I only remember the faintest sounds of the sea, and the wailing of the gulls.’

Chapter 10