The Last Enchanter chapter 1

Chapter 1
An end and a beginning

The thunder cracked and lightening raced across the dark stormy sky. Asphodel let out a piercing cry stronger and louder than rolling thunder. He swept the sword high, pointing it into the dark clouds, calling down the lightening. The charge wrapped around the length of the blade and Asphodel looked down at his enemy Fer-Thun, lying at his feet. Asphodel had not lost his powers as Lord Enchanter of the Dulcamara, or his skills as their War Lord. Fer-Thun had been unable to wrest that place from him and now he never would. Asphodel plunged the sword deep into the heart of Fer-Thun. The young Lord Arum of Martagon turned his head just in time to witness Fer-Thun’s destruction at the hand of the Elf Lord Asphodel. The stormy sky directly above them was as dark and black as Fer-Thun’s soul had been. As the dark mists swirled like shadowy dragon’s wings against the red fire of the sky, thunder still echoed and lightening continually lit the dramatic scene of battle. Asphodel’s exultant cry echoed out again and all who heard it were in no doubt as to the fate of Fer-Thun, Lord of the Black Dragon Masters. It was a form of justice for all his dark deeds and the death of Asphodel’s mother Irissa. The cry was so strong from the Lord Enchanter that it reached the mother of Fer-Thun in her tower. The Ancient Tok-Wen let out a screaming wail that terrified all those around her. For a while she would mourn him but she would soon remember Kor-Gat her grandson still lived. She would transfer all her cunning to support him for he could still achieve her goals, but for now Asphodel remained the most powerful War Lord among the Elf races, and perhaps even among the race of men.
The rain came down like needles but it was warm and it fell on the dead and the living alike and when it hit the ground it hissed and threw up steam as though it were tears shed by the Black Dragons for their master. Even as Arum heard Asphodel’s voice his attention was dragged back to the scene and he quickly took in the plight of the young Elf Prince of the Golden Tribe. Without hesitation he threw himself across the body of Sorrel just as the weapon wielded by a huge Darg, descended. In the same movement Arum raised his shield to protect them both from the blow. He was a large young man but the force of it shuddered through his whole body, shattering bones. His reaction was automatic. Even as he gasped out with the pain, he thrust his sword upward into the Darg. Blood spurted over them as the Darg fell catching the shield, pinning Arum down. He thrust the shield upward and heaved but his young squire Torgil was beside him in an instant, followed by the ever faithful Sig Warhammer. The young strapping warrior Sig picked up the Darg and threw him to one side like a sack of garbage. He raised his Lord who swayed as the blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
When the death of Fer-Thun registered with his followers, they ceased the struggle. An eerie silence fell as the sound of battle ceased and the earth held its breath for a moment. The silence was broken by moans from wounded and sounds of harness and clinking metal. Fer-Thun’s followers melted away into the darkness that birthed them, taking their dead with them.
“It is over for now,” declared Asphodel.
“But at such a price,” said Arum looking to where Torgil bent over Sorrel, the Elf from the Golden Tribe.
As far as the eye could see there were dead and wounded. It had been a most terrible struggle.
“Sorrel is still alive Lord Arum,” called Torgil.
“What about Kor-Gat,” Arum gasped wincing as the pain rippled through his chest
“He will go home and deliver his father to the Black Dragons and Tok-Wen, but make no mistake, he will be back,” declared Asphodel. “His desire for ultimate rule over all that lives is even stronger than his father’s. Like his father he wants the throne of your King of Helleborine as well as my heritage, but at least he will not be back today.”
He bent over the young elf on the ground in the supporting arms of Torgil.
“My wife will not be pleased at my failure to guard her sister’s son. You did better than I in this Lord Arum.”
Arum grinned at him through his pain. “Hardly my Lord, I think the Darg broke some of my ribs.”
Immediately Asphodel barked out orders and both Elf Warriors and men of Martagon scurried to do his bidding. He was formidable and not one man among them would risk offending him. The Elf races all automatically gave him obedience and respect as was his due. He was a warlord, their protector and the husband of Lilia the Golden, Queen of all things that were not of mankind.
The men of Martagon began reassembling and Torgil’s father collected up what was left of his command, the élite band of Stormchasers. Despite their weariness and the damage of battle, they were still a magnificent sight. Their horses gleamed with silver decorated protection, many now smeared with blood and some without riders. The warrior garments beneath the leather were shaded from crimson to purple. On their breasts you could just make out the lily emblem of their Lord beneath the dirt and blood smears. Some wore long coats of dark green with the same emblems on their shoulders. All around them was the carnage of battle. Many of Fer-Thun’s forces lay side by side with Asphodel’s Dulcamara Elf warriors. The colours of Martagon Knights were bloodstained, along with the fair hair of the bowmen from the Golden Tribe and all were soaked with the rain.
“You fought well Lord Arum. Your father would have been proud of you,” said Asphodel.
“But you were the one who avenged him”
“It was my place to do so.”
“Yet Fer-Thun was father to your half brother.”
“Only through his violation of my mother,” Asphodel said harshly “My people expected him to receive justice at my hands even though his war was with all Helleborine. Kor-Gat does not carry the blood of my father Asoril and what was Asoril’s is now mine. It is now my place to deliver justice and retribution on behalf of Lilia. They are all her vassals, even the Black Dragon Masters.”
Arum smiled again. “He will not find it easy to take your place Asphodel that is clear to me.”
“I will oppose him at every turn as I did his father but the manner of Fer-Thun’s death will increase Kor’Gat’s hatred of me and mine.”
“”I am sure you will meet every challenge but I am afraid I can do no more today,” and he coughed spitting out blood and he passed out in Sig’s hold.
Arum awoke to find himself in a quiet room with graceful pillars supporting the ceiling and cool colours on the walls, the dark skies were no more, and everywhere was the bright clear light of day. He sat up and felt his ribs in astonishment. There was no pain! He felt strong as a horse and equally as hungry. Torgil tapped on the door and came in with his clothes and helped him dress.
“Where are we,” Arum asked.
“Trillium, my Lord. The War Lord brought you here as it was quicker and the lady healed both you and Sorrel with just a touch.
“Lady, you mean Queen Lilia?”
“No Arum, he means my daughter,” said Asphodel from the doorway. His usually stern enigmatic face, was smiling for once. “Come, my wife wants to meet the brave young Lord of Martagon who saved her beloved nephew.”
Arum accompanied him into the presence of Lilia the Golden, still a little mystified as to his lack of pain, but eager to meet the legendary Queen. The Warriors of the Elf world may well be Asphodel’s vassals by conquest as the Great Dulcamara War Lord, but they were all, including him, Lilia’s vassals by hereditary right as Queen of the Twilight Star. To men she was an eternal mystery, said to be the most beautiful creature once seen never forgotten yet the stories about her also told of her wisdom and generosity. Arum had always wanted to meet her and now he had the opportunity.
Arum was Lord of Martagon, of the race of men. Martagon was famed far and wide for the prowess of its warrior knights. Most of the old tales were of the band known as the Stormchasers. Erinar had been their captain for Arum’s father and now Arum. Erinar’s son Torgil served as Arum’s squire. Whenever they were needed they rode like the wind on the magnificent war horses to the centre of the trouble, well ahead of the Martagon warriors and indeed that of the warriors of the whole of Helleborine. Some say the steeds were bred from the unicorns by the Elf races, for they were large, fleet of foot, with eyes of fire and flame, and their feet shod with a silver metal forged by the Dwarves of Eridia. Whenever the King called, the Stormchasers came and the young warlord Arum had earned his father’s title as their leader and First Lord of Helleborine. His king Eimar had called him to support Asphodel in this battle against Fer-Thun and he had responded. Now he was impatient to meet Lilia and her daughter who had healed him.
Trillium was traditionally the home of the Golden Tribe whereas Dark Mullein was the fortress of the Dulcamara and Asphodel. Arum looked curiously about him as the foliage gave way to beautiful buildings that rose gracefully ever upward, with many towers of pale stone and glorious foliage with sweet smelling flowers spilling in great profusion over ancient walls. It almost grew into the hillsides. From the air it could not be seen by the eyes of the Black Dragons, Kethilon or anything on wings. The palace swooped down into woodland dells with walk ways and water falls, everywhere reflecting the grace and beauty of the Golden Elves.
A tall Elf with silver hair waited for them at the entrance to the great hall. He was Plantain leader of the Council of Trillium. Arum walked over the grass and golden stone paving into the presence of the Elf Queen, Lilia the Golden. The High Elf Queen of the Twilight Star was supreme ruler over all the Woodland, Forests and Mountain tribes. Enchanters good or bad and even the creatures of all the dark places, all that was not of man, gave her homage. Her line went back in a direct line of Kings and Queens since the beginning of time and even now there were many mysteries not revealed to mankind. She had fallen in love with the dark Asphodel the High Elf War Lord of the Dulcamara despite the great differences between them. The Dulcamara were as unlike the Golden Tribe as they possibly could be. They were dark haired with dark markings on their flesh and kept secrets of enchantment equally as dark. All the Enchanter Lords bore the mark of the Dulcamara on their brow, though only one held power over them all as their Supreme Lord. There were other Dulcamara Elves, Woodland Elves and even those of the Dragon Guardian tribes among them. Asphodel was the son of Irissa and her husband Asoril who had been Lord Enchanter before Asphodel. The title of War Lord of the Dulcamara he had won for himself. He could call on the Dulcamara Warriors to serve him anytime he needed them to assemble. He and Lilia divided their time between Trillium and Dark Mullein since their marriage. Arum usually met with Asphodel at Martagon or Dark Mullein and he was stunned by the beauty of this place in marked contrast to the vast walls and pillars of dark stone at Mullein which spoke of power and strength rather than beauty.
“You are welcome Lord Arum,” Lilia’s voice was soft and musical. She was beautiful with white shining hair and golden gown. It was impossible to guess her age, but Arum’s eyes were drawn to the young girl beside her whose beauty was perfection itself and he was lost to a pair of eyes drenched with tears. Sorrel was reclining on a couch beside her.
“Sorrel is still weak mother,”
“It isn’t surprising! He was almost dead,” she replied.
“Give him strength then,” said Asphodel impatiently. “You are far too emotional. Less emotion and more concentration will have better results. You need to distance yourself in your mind from who it is, concentrate on what causes the pain.”
She looked up at her father and although she had pale golden hair, delicate pointed ears, and the glowing beauty of the Golden Tribe, they could see upon her forehead the mark of the Dulcamara Enchanters.
“I’m not going to do it for you, much as I care about Sorrel, you began the healing and you must see it through.”
She reached out a hand watched by the amazed knights who could not believe what they were seeing. As she touched Sorrel it was as if a light penetrated and spread over him. In moments he was standing flexing his fingers before taking Arache’s hand and gripping it tightly conveying his gratitude, but the healing had clearly weakened the girl who subsided into her seat.
“You are Arum of Martagon and I owe you a great debt,” Sorrel said quietly. “My life is now yours to command.”
Arum didn’t even answer him for he was still under the enchantment of this amazing Golden Elf.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Is it you I must thank for my healed bones?”
Lilia answered. “This is Arache daughter of Asphodel Enchanter Lord of the Dulcamara and my heir. She is our only child. We are indeed greatly in your debt for your action in saving my sister’s son.”
“You don’t owe me anything for your daughter healed me. That is a fair exchange.”
“Arache cannot repay on my behalf,” said Sorrel stubbornly. “You saved my life and now I owe it to you.”
Arum just smiled still stunned by Arache.
From the moment Arum saw Arache he loved her and cared not that she was born of the race of Dark Enchantment. He knew he would not rest until she became Lady of Martagon. It was of no matter that she was an elf princess and heir to a queen and he was just a man nor that she was related to the dark Kor-Gat. He passionately believed from the moment their eyes met that she was destined to be his lady and from that moment he did not rest until she was.
Arum succeeded in winning Arache, though it took a little time and diligence and despite all the differences and scepticism from many people around them, Lilia had allowed it. She herself had experienced the same opposition when she insisted on Asphodel as her mate. Neither Arache nor Arum had cause to regret it and they had some happy years together. Arache gave Arum a son much to his delight. She spent much time at Martagon and Arum often accompanied her on visits to Trillium. Whatever his son might be in the eyes of Asphodel and Lilia, to Arum he was the next Lord of Martagon and Arum’s life was complete. The boy however was very much a child of the Dulcamara although the people of Martagon had no problem accepting him as Arum’s son. He could do no wrong in their eyes.
Some years went by and the day came when Lilia the Golden celebrated a special anniversary in the halls of the Dulcamara. Her husband Asphodel had invited her friends to his fortress of Dark Mullein for the celebration. The event was unusual in that it was at Dark Mullein and not Trillium but the event was to mark the first day Lilia had come to his fortress as the Lady of Asphodel and to celebrate the long time they had been together. It was also time to confer the succession upon Arache confirming her as the heir to Lilia, and her place as the next Queen when Lilia was ready to retire. It was to be graced by many Lords and Ladies from The Golden Tribe as well as the Dulcamara. Lilia was a great age by human standards but was still fair and beautiful.
Arache rode into Dark Mullein with some of her Martagon companions and of course her son Blackthorn. Asphodel wanted to see his grandson and this was an excellent opportunity. The youth was a striking young Elf, for he was every bit an Enchanter of the Dulcamara, his looks and colouring that of his grandfather Asphodel. He was totally Elf but for his slightly sturdier build. He was tall for his age with long black hair. He was showing signs of the abilities and temperament of the great War Lord already, but he on occasion demonstrated the wisdom and inherent goodness of his mother and grandmother despite being a youth still. Asphodel came out to greet them, a magnificent warrior who awed Blackthorn though he was very proud of him.
Arum and his King Eimar were invited to the event but were detained dealing with a rebel War Lord. Everything was already planned and it was good to consolidate unity between the races, so both Arum and Eimar insisted it took place as planned, with assurances to Asphodel they could deal with this rebellion without him. Kor-Gat didn’t appear to be mustering any forces. It seemed one of Eimar’s War Lords, Kundar by name, was trying to take over the Northern area of Helleborine. Eimar and Arum could sort out this small fracas and join the gathering when they could. Sorrel had thrown in his lot with Arum and his Stormchasers after the marriage of Arache, bringing with him units of Golden bowman. Over the last few years he had become a legend among the inhabitants of Helleborine. He accompanied Arum and Eimar on their mission and he too was going to be a late arrival.
They did consider Kor-Gat was responsible of course, even though he wasn’t a visible opponent. Kor-Gat was behind every bid for power in Helleborine whether against his own kind or the realms of men. He sought to unseat King Eimar by using the rebellious war lords of his kingdom, hoping every time would see Eimar dead but while Arum lived it wasn’t going to happen. His father had died in service to the ruling House and he too would fight to the death. He was under no illusion as to Kor-Gat’s duplicity. He was the real enemy behind these latest uprisings. He had some enchantment skills of the Dulcamara through his mother Irissa, and the tenacity and insidiousness of the Black Dragon Masters that came to him through his father and a long line of Black Dragon mages who personified everything that was evil. While the celebrations were beginning at Dark Mullein, Kor-Gat though unseen, was enmeshed in this rebellion.
It became even more obvious Kor-Gat was part of it the moment they saw Dargs and Akari fighting with Kindar leading the revolt. The Akari were terrifying creatures, their huge bodies protected by armour that was part of their flesh. Their heads were covered also by protective metal. The ornamental decoration of the metal added to the grotesque appearance. It was actually an integral part of their bodies. Fortunately there had not been many present and few of them were now still standing. The Golden Elf Bowmen were busily engaged in disposing of as many as they could. Kundar was of the race of men and had long since turned tail and fled from the might of Arum but Kor-Gat’s minions still fought. Dargs were expected to fight to the death and not return from a battle for anything but the death of their supreme Lord or victory.
The Dargs moved swiftly, their armour gleaming when the light caught it. They had the familiar look of two legged beings yet with physical parts that were beast. They were all different; no two were exactly the same. They might have beastlike feet or claws or even grotesque heads, and most had body scales of some degree. They were fearsome, those with claws could rip you apart and their teeth and jaws were terrible weapons. Some carried the keral that fired points dipped in poison and others the long tube like weapon, the tenochra that blasted out trails of fire. Their bodies were protected by their hard bone like armour. They fought with screaming rage at being thwarted in their intent to take Eimar. They were cut down by the sheer number of Knights from Martagon and Altissima.
While Eimar and Arum were subduing Kundar’s following, Eimar’s queen arrived at Dark Mullein with her newly born daughter who was fussed over by Lilia and Arache. Elves loved celebrations, dancing and singing, and had been known to get a little boisterous when enjoying a gathering. Such events lasted for many days and nights and could stretch into weeks if they were having fun. Time mattered a great deal less to them than it did to the men and women of Eimar’s kingdom. People were constantly arriving, sometimes days late, sometimes days too early. They came and left as they chose. It was the way of Elves. It was no different at this celebration, so there would be plenty of time for Arum and the others to join them.
It was a glorious assembly. Arache and her mother Lilia were stunningly beautiful and gowned as befitted a Queen and the daughter of a queen. It was fitting for such an auspicious occasion when Lilia would formally name her heir. Lilia never seemed to age. Asphodel was very old even by Elf standards but he was still a handsome imposing figure. His hair was long and black although now streaked with silver. With him was his half sister, Orchis, twin to Kor-Gat. When Irissa gave birth, Fer-Thun took the boy Kor-Gat and left behind the girl child with the dying Irissa. She had grown up in the halls of Dark Mullein. Everywhere was colour, and dancing figures whirled by. There was no need to guard against danger. It never crossed anyone’s mind that any betrayal could take place within this ancient fortress.
Asphodel’s grandson helped himself to food from the tables, wandered about chatting to various people and dutifully attended at Asphodel’s side but to tell the truth he was getting a little bored. He was young, of an age that preferred games and practise at fighting skills and would rather have been with Sorrel. He loved learning too and spent a lot of his time applying his enquiring mind. He looked down on his mother dancing in the hall and although he loved to watch her graceful movements even that paled a little so as the night drew on he found an interesting book and a secluded place where he eventually fell asleep, the book slipping to the floor.
But there were other eyes watching the dancers and revellers. The eyes peered from the shadows, moving continually as the watcher drifted from pillar to pillar. Those eyes shone with anticipation and eagerness tinged with envy and hate. Kor-Gat, back in the halls of Mandrake was aware of every shadowy move. Asphodel had a special gift for Lilia and Arache to commemorate the occasion. Amid laughter and anticipation he ushered them into the Long gallery along with Eimar’s Queen All the Enchanters were invited to the unveiling and some of the Golden Tribe dignitaries accompanied them. Someone closed the doors behind them to shut out the sound of music so they could hear what Asphodel was saying. They had all been asked to raise their goblets to Lilia and they did so with enthusiasm. Once they were occupied, the hidden watcher moved to the stone balcony at the end of the long hall where the doors were open wide leading on to it. She raised a finger and beckoned while whispering to herself. The sky outside darkened and a huge shadow hung over the balcony to take the shape of a Black Dragon. The female pressed something between its teeth. It opened its mouth and breathed across the long gallery just as the occupants turned too late to register the danger. It’s mouth was already open and from its nostrils poured a lethal smoky substance while the watcher still muttered incantations. It was so unexpected everyone there was caught in its path and dropped to the ground, the evil breath overcoming them so very quickly. Eimar’s Queen died instantly but the babe in her arms was wrapped within her cloak, protected from the lethal Dragon’s breath. Some of the Enchanters including Lord Asphodel and his daughter Arache were rendered unconscious. Lilia too had not died immediately but the dragon walked the length of the hall piercing the unconscious bodies of any living with his long metal claws leaving their life blood pouring out in the floor. He walked through the blood leaving the bloody trail of his dragon feet as he walked. Satisfied the creature went back to the stone balcony. He turned his head and looked back briefly before rising again on the night air, disappearing from sight.
There were many from the Golden Tribe who hadn’t yet arrived, and so escaped the consequences. The creature who betrayed them all didn’t care. The one she wanted to die was already present. Kor-Gat would have liked to have numbered Arum, Eimar and Sorrel among the dead, but in that he was thwarted by the impatience of the accomplice who wanted it over with, her jealousy an all consuming flame. His main targets were met however in the destruction of every living Enchanter Lord and Lady gathered to honour Lilia and Asphodel. It was no co-incidence they all happened to be those who opposed Kor-Gat.
The young elf was awakened by screaming. It was Orchis as she ran frantically out into the corridors and he caught the words Black Dragon. He was still for a moment before realizing the threat. He leapt up and ran to the great hall, to find the doors were wide open and people were fleeing from the scene. Blackthorn went through the open doors to the long gallery and stumbled over his grandfather who was completely still. This great Elf War Lord who no one could match in battle was brought down by a cowardly act. He had fallen against the stone wall where his grandson found him. He saw the blood pouring from gaping holes and tears in the flesh deep into his body, and he was sprawled back, unable to move or speak. The force of the tearing claws had revived him in time to die. The youth had only moments to crouch beside him and hold his hand for a moment but it was enough to receive the heritage of the mighty Enchanter Asphodel.
“Asphodel’s justice --is now yours,” he struggled to shape the words as the boy grasped his hand. “Lilia – Arache,” he whispered. “love you,” and he was gone. The young elf’s hand was on fire, burning with heat travelling from his fingers to his heart. It was so overpowering he was temporarily disorientated, every limb and nerve trembling and tingling.
In a haze he came to his feet, paling as the scene registered. Seeing the splash of the blue his mother had been wearing, he went toward her racing over the stone floor awash with blood. He slipped in it, falling in it. He crawled in it, to reach his dying mother. Much of the blue fabric was drenched with her blood, but his eyes were on her face. Bending his head, he caught her last words gasped on dying breath. He could barely make out the words. “Live – promise – live,”
He held her hand on one side and that of his grandmother on the other. They had been slashed with the claws of the Dragon and lay where they had fallen, just like Asphodel. Their wounds were too great and too many, and they were barely conscious or even of this world anymore. In their holding of hands, they both gave to him their gifts, many which came to him two fold, along with their combined strengths, knowledge and wisdom. It took but a moment a single heartbeat to receive a heritage greater than any other Elf, a threefold power, was now his, but it came to him in a way that was abhorrent to him. If he had only known it or how to use it, he could perhaps have saved them. He wept for he was just a youth and he loved them both so much, it was unbearable. He held his mother’s hand against his breast his tears mingling with the blood. He didn’t even register any possible danger or even care. The slaughter was intended to be confined mainly to the Enchanters and the High Elf Queen Lilia but others who had got in the way had been slaughtered too.
Suddenly Sorrel was there. He arrived to find Golden and Dulcamara Elves alike milling around in confusion, not really understanding what was going on. The words Black Dragon went from lip to lip and a panic ensued. The place was in an uproar as Dulcamara warriors still living converged on the great hall wondering how a Black Dragon had been able to get in. Such a massacre had never happened before in this way, and they had not thought it possible. Sorrel entered like a whirlwind; he and several of his bowmen raced to find their Queen. It took but a moment to realise they were too late for any one in there but Asphodel’s grandson. Sorrel grabbed hold of him, “Come now we must go, the Dragons may return.”
He resisted them, fighting to stay with his beloved mother but Sorrel would have none of it.
“They would want you to live,” said Sorrel and he was reminded of his mother’s words.
He gave in but even as they got him to his feet they heard the wailing of the baby. Turning his head he knew the child was in the arms of Eimar’s queen. Because she was already dead the dragon hadn’t touched her, or he may well have killed the infant. Moving swiftly to her side he drew back her cloak revealing the child she had protected.
“Eimar’s child,” he said holding her against him. The little one nestled confidently seeking comfort. A commotion could be heard now outside the hall and immediately the Elves formed a circle round him.
“It’s alright. It is my father,” and sure enough the doors to the hall crashed back and both Arum and Eimar strode in with a contingent of knights. No one spoke as Arum gathered his lady to his breast. He was a soldier who showed no weakness but this time his mouth trembled and his eyes could not hold back the tears.
“We had so little time my love, so little time.” He had expected she would still be with him, young and beautiful, the day he died. He didn’t think he could bear this.
Eimar sat on the floor beside his queen totally in shock raising his head only when he heard the wail of a baby. The young elf said nothing, there was little to say that would make a difference. He just held out the child to Eimar who folded her in his arms holding her against his heart.
“You are all I have now little one. I failed to protect your mother, but I will keep you safe,” he vowed “I will not allow you ever again to be in danger,”
Sorrel bent over Asphodel and retrieved his great sword. Solemnly he stood before the youth and held it out to him. “This is now yours and the mantle of Asphodel and the crown of my queen are yours by right my prince.”
The great sword was much too big and heavy for the youth to hold. “I can’t hold it yet Sorrel! I will wear it one day, but not now. Now I must be my father’s son. He will need me.”
“So be it,” said Sorrel.
Sorrel bent over Lilia removing the glittering jewel at her breast. He held it out to the youth. “This you can wear, the Twilight Star is yours by right.”
“Not yet Sorrel, I cannot wear this either, I cannot take her place, I don’t know enough. Keep it safe for me.”
“But she clasped your hand at her passing, the kingdom of Lilia has become yours on the day of succession. You may not be the one she intended today, but you are the one who received it.”
“I know but it is too much to grasp just now.”
Sorrel nodded his understanding. He too found his grief hard to bear and he was much older and wiser.
“It will be given into the care of Plantain and the council,” he promised, “but the sword of Asphodel will stay with me until you are able to use it.”
It took time for the young Enchanter to begin making sense of the inheritance they left him, to understand it, but Sorrel helped him, and the boy of that time past became a young male elf and the man his father wanted him to be. His mother and grandmother were both with him still, and would be all his days to come. He had to leave their shape and form there on the floor of that hall so he could keep his promise to them to live, but he could not forgive himself for that. By the time he began to realise some of the extent of the threefold power he had inherited, it was far too late, which brought a feeling of frustration all its own and often waking him in the darkness of night, with a knowledge of what might have been rather than facing what he could do. In a sense he didn’t want to acknowledge it or his birthright, for that would bring the overwhelming pain of acknowledging his loneliness and what he had lost. There were no Lords left to lead the Dulcamara warriors from Dark Mullein, and there followed a succession of leaders elected for their battle prowess. Some leaned toward accepting Kor-Gat as War Lord of the Dulcamara, some did not. He was not descended from the War Lord line but was Dulcamara through his mother which some thought was better than nothing. Many could not accept his dependence on the black arts of the Dragon Masters and so would never accept him. There was division among them. The youth stayed at Martagon with his father and Tok-Wen let it be known he was a human child more like his father than Asphodel. For many years Kor-Gat was untroubled by the existence of Asphodel’s grandson until he felt the stirrings of him beginning to use the skills of his ancestors both as a War Lord of battle at Arum’s side and as a master of the enchantment of the Dulcamara.

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