《The Age of the Obsidian Throne》 Brothers Meeting ¨C One excerpt in a compilation of many recordings of the Thaliondor brothers and what occurred to, by, and between them during the Age of the Obsidian Throne. ¨C The pitch-black warhorse thundered through the night, the branches of the dense trees that lined the road whipping and snatching at its rider. The surrounding forest was dark, thick, foreboding, and could be concealing any number of enemies. Indeed, it did conceal one ¨C a dark-cloaked assassin whose face was hidden by the shadows of his hood and by a black mask over his mouth and nose. Only his dark eyes glittered in the wan light of the setting crescent moon. He crouched upon a stout bough, many feet above the road, watching horse and rider gallop swiftly closer. His half-gloved grip tightened around the long knife he held in one hand. Slowly, softly, under his breath he counted out the seconds that ticked by. 3¡­ 2¡­ 1¡­ The horse passed beneath the overhanging tree. The assassin leapt from the bough. He plummeted downward and struck the knight, knocking him from the saddle. The two men crashed heavily to the ground in the clash-and-clatter of plate armor and a tangle of limbs. Gasps of pain and grunted curses were lost in the clamor of their fall and in the thunder of the warhorse¡¯s hooves as it galloped onward. The horse quickly vanished in the swirling dark mists of the night. The black-clad assailant was the first to recover from the fall. He grasped the handle of his knife, the blade of which was buried in the knight¡¯s upper arm between two armor plates. The knight yelled in pain as his attacker yanked the weapon free. The two men rolled in the loam and dead leaves, fighting for control of the knife. The knight sent his fist crashing into his attacker¡¯s face and the smaller man¡¯s head snapped backward. His body was sent flying backward off atop the knight. The knife was knocked in the opposite direction, skidding in the leaves, flinging scarlet droplets in a wide arc. The assassin thudded to the ground and lay still. The knight staggered to his feet, blood running down his arm and soaking the sleeve of his leather jerkin. He glanced around, spotted the knife. Stumbled toward it only to be yanked backwards by the assassin. The smaller man wrapped his arms around the knight¡¯s neck and heaved backwards. The knight writhed in the assassin¡¯s grip; they crashed back down into the stirred-up dirt and leaves. The assassin grunted as the knight¡¯s full weight landed on top of him. Leaves flew up in the air as the knight kicked and struggled against this attacker¡¯s tight hold. He almost broke free as he scrabbled for the dagger at his belt and attempted to drive the short blade into the smaller man¡¯s neck and face. The assassin twisted away and almost lost his grip. He hooked his fingers through the eye-holes of the knight¡¯s helm. Both men cried out from pain and exertion as the assailant pulled the helm from the larger man¡¯s head. The knight swung his dagger up at his attacker¡¯s face once more and his fist made contact with the smaller man¡¯s nose. The assassin grunted and twisted free from beneath the knight¡¯s body, tossing the helm away as he did so. The knight struggled to his hands and knees and crouched, dagger in hand, facing his opponent. The rough mail of the larger man¡¯s gauntlet had torn away some of the assassin¡¯s mask, and the knight squinted at his opponent¡¯s half-revealed face. ¡°Gildran?¡± He whispered incredulously. ¡°Gil?¡± The smaller man tensed. Then exhaled and retreated a step. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°Yes.¡± He replied quietly. ¡°What of it?¡± The knight swore and spat out a mouthful of blood. ¡°How¨C how in the world¨C¡± He stuttered, and swore again. ¡°You cannot mean to tell me that you¡¯re working for Eldragor now, can you? Brother?¡± His tone was laden with grief, anger, and betrayal. ¡°I know the markings of his assassins. You would kill me, Gil? After all he did to us?¡± ¡°He saved me.¡± Gil replied flatly. ¡°He murdered you!¡± The knight screamed. ¡°I saw you die, Gildran! With my own eyes I saw you perish at his hand!¡± Gil shook his head. ¡°What you saw was not real, Aerand¨ªr. He¡­ imprisoned me, yes. But my death was a ruse. Now¡­ I am bound to serve him. I am sorry, brother. Truly.¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re not.¡± Aerand¨ªr spat out coldly. ¡°If you were truly sorry, you would die before submitting to that traitorous snake, Gildran eldn Thaliondor!¡± Gil shook his head again. ¡°I¡­ am denied the release of death at this time, Aerand¨ªr. I¡¯m sorry. My orders tonight are to take you as a prisoner or kill you if I cannot. Brother¡­ please forgive me.¡± His voice broke slightly and he unsheathed another long knife. ¡°Never.¡± Aerand¨ªr snarled, tossing his dagger to his other hand and drawing his sword. ¡°Kill me then, because I will never yield to Eldragor, traitor.¡± Gildran flinched, then dashed at the knight. The two men clashed in a whirlwind of furious blows. Aerand¨ªr was graceful and skilled with his blade, but he was wounded and Gildran was quick on his feet and supplemented his shorter knife with a dagger he had pulled from somewhere. After a few minutes Gildran began to take the upper hand. His brother¡¯s injury began to betray him more and more. Aerand¨ªr panted and gasped for breath, sweat trickling down his brow, dripping from his jaw and the tips of his pointed ears, mingling its saltiness with the blood that continued to seep into his sleeve. At last, Gildran swept Aerand¨ªr¡¯s legs out from under him with a well-placed kick. Aerand¨ªr thudded onto his back, too winded to cry out. Gil knelt and laid the edge of his knife at his brother¡¯s throat. ¡°Yield.¡± He commanded quietly. Aerand¨ªr stared up at his brother, fury smoldering in his gaze. ¡°Never.¡± He choked out between gasping breaths. Gilran shrugged and lifted his knife. Then brought it down, pommel first, on the side of Aerand¨ªr¡¯s skull. ~ From the shadows beneath the dense trees another figure in a dark cloak reclined against a tree trunk. They bore no visible weapons, their arms were folded over their chest, and they appeared to be in a state of slumber. But they were not, in fact, sleeping. From beneath that shadowed hood peeked a woman¡¯s gaze, locked onto the assassin as he retrieved the runaway horse and hoisted the knight¡¯s limp body onto the saddle. The woman made no move to intervene, had deliberately made no move before. She was merely a watcher. A neutral party. Someone whose task was not to interfere with the events of the world, but merely to record them. The crescent moon slipped down to the horizon and shone its wan light beneath the trees. The faint, silver rays caught on patches of embroidery along the edges of the woman¡¯s cloak¨C shimmering feather quill pens. But the assassin never noticed. He finished tying his burden down and led the horse down the road, his steps slow and heavy with something akin to grief. The watcher¡¯s gaze stayed with him. After a minute, the woman did more than watch. She followed, silent as the moon that slipped below the horizon. In the Hand of the King ¨C One excerpt in a compilation of many recordings of the Thaliondor brothers and what occurred to, by, and between them during the Age of the Obsidian Throne. ¨C The chains that were bound around his arms and hands were forged of Lorenium, the same metal as his armor, which they had taken from him. This metal was strong and extraordinarily light¨C but above all, it was virtually unbreakable. Even the captive¡¯s hardened strength would not make the chains even yield or give as he strained against them. The men around him shoved and dragged him though the black marble corridors toward a doom he would have given much to escape. They halted before two massive pitch-black doors made of opaque glass; six guards in Lorenium armor barred their way. He thrashed and struggled against the chains and his captors, shouting elvish curses with all the fury he could muster. The wound in his arm re-opened under the strain of his exertions and blood trickled down to his bound hands and dripped off his fingertips. The men around him shouted, their voices echoing off the stone around them, as they fought to control him. A knee drove into his gut, a gauntleted fist into his face. He gasped, grunted, and staggered to a knee. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He spat it out onto the shadow-hued floorstones. They hauled him upright as the doors swung open. He kept his head down, his eyes squeezed shut, as they dragged him into that dreaded room. He fell to his knees on hard marble floors as they halted before the dais, and his captors let him stay there. ¡°Ah¡­ Aerand¨ªr eldn Thaliondor¡­¡± The voice was sibilant like a serpent¡¯s, yet rough and deep as subterranean mountain rivers. Every corner of the room became cluttered with its echoes. ¡°First of the last two heirs of House Thaliondor¡­ How fares your Realm, princeling?¡± Aerand¨ªr opened his eyes and lifted his aching head. Before him was the thing he dreaded and the man his brother had become enthralled to. The King of the Obsidian Throne¨C that terrible relic of old that corrupted everyone who sat upon it. Gildran was present, standing on the dais, behind the black, glass throne, to the king¡¯s right. Aerand¨ªr¡¯s eyes flicked to his brother and then away, dismissing and ignoring Gil. Acting like the assassin didn¡¯t even exist. He noticed the woman in the black and silver cloak as well, but wasn¡¯t concerned about her. He was familiar with the embroidery on the hems of her heavy garment. ¡°What do you want of me, Eldragor?¡± The captive knight asked, tilting his head at the king, his voice slurring slightly and his chin stained with blood. ¡°Why, your willing service and good will, of course.¡± The king purred. ¡°My service and good will, eh?¡± Aerand¨ªr mused, looking at the floor. He watched as blood dripped from his upper lip to splash on the marble beneath him. Crimson on black. His nose was still bleeding from his captor¡¯s fist to the face. ¡°And¡­ one other thing.¡± Eldragor said. Aerand¨ªr picked his head back up. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°And what would that be?¡± He asked warily. Eldragor leaned forward, smirking as he rested his elbows on his knees. ¡°Surely you didn¡¯t expect me to not be informed you were carrying a message of great importance to the Fifth Realm, little princeling. I need that missive, and I need it now. Give it to me, and you will save yourself much suffering.¡± Aerand¨ªr¡¯s lips twitched in the barest hint of a smirk. ¡°What makes you think there is any such message?¡± He asked. Eldragor¡¯s nostrils flared slightly with irritation. ¡°Don¡¯t play games with me, whelp!¡± He snarled. ¡°I know you have it!¡± Aerand¨ªr chuckled mirthlessly, his breath scraping in his throat. ¡°Do I?¡± A low growl emitted from behind Eldragor¡¯s gritted teeth, and his fists clenched upon the armrests of the Obsidian Throne. Aerand¨ªr tilted his head at the king. ¡°Your men searched me thoroughly when they brought me here. They found no message.¡± The captive knight said, with a hint of satisfaction. ¡°Cipher!¡± Eldragor barked, turning to the woman in the silver and black cloak. ¡°Does he lie?¡± The Cipher regarded him coolly. ¡°It is not my place to answer such a question.¡± She said calmly. ¡°I merely observe and record. No more. I am not your servant, Dark King; nor a dog, to come and obey when you call.¡± A plethora of vile curses spewed from the king¡¯s mouth as he stood abruptly. He stalked down the steps of the dais, the heels of his boots clicking on the marble floor until he stopped directly in front of Aerand¨ªr. He grasped the knight¡¯s jaw and locked gazes with him. ¡°I will have that missive and I will have your service, if I have to rip it out of you!¡± Eldragor snarled. ¡°You will endure pain the likes of which you have never known, and in the end, I will break you like I did your brother! When all is finished, the Thirteenth Realm will be mine, as will the rest. You will be able to do nothing but bow to me.¡± Eldragor smirked and released Aerand¨ªr. He looked up at his men and gave them a nod. ¡°Take him below and do what you must to extract the information. Bring him before me when you¡¯ve finished.¡± They hauled Aerand¨ªr to his feet and turned him back to the doors. But before they could exit, a pale elf, his flaxen hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, entered the room from a small door behind the dais. ¡°My king,¡± the pale elf said, walking forward with confident strides, smirking arrogantly. ¡°If I may, would you grant me the privilege of overseeing this interrogation?¡± Aerand¨ªr stiffened at the sound of the pale elf¡¯s voice, and he looked over his shoulder to eye him angrily. ¡°Vandril.¡± He spat. Vandril¡¯s smirk grew wider, and he gave a mocking bow in Aerand¨ªr¡¯s direction. ¡°In the flesh. Clever trick, wasn¡¯t it, escaping from your dungeons like that. You thought I was dead, when all along I was here safe and sound at last.¡± ¡°I should have killed you the second I laid eyes on you!¡± Aerand¨ªr shouted, struggling to lunge at the pale elf. ¡°But you didn¡¯t.¡± Vandril grinned. ¡°And now look at you.¡± He turned back to Eldragor. ¡°My lord?¡± The king waved his hand, clearly enjoying the animosity between his captive and his lieutenant. ¡°Granted.¡± He replied. ¡°Now get out of my sight.¡± As Vandril followed a fair distance behind, the guards dragged Aerand¨ªr out of Eldragor¡¯s throne room, the young First Heir shouting defiant curses and threats all the way. ¡°I¡¯ll kill you, Vandril! I will finish what my father started! I will destroy you, and your filthy king, and that cursed Throne. I swear it! Do you hear me? I swear it!¡± ~ On the dais, his emotions hidden behind a mask of indifference, Gildran eldn Thaliondor heard every one of his brother¡¯s shouted threats. With every word that left Aerand¨ªr¡¯s lips, Gildran flinched. Where The Red Grasses Grow ¨C One excerpt in a compilation of many recordings of the Thaliondor brothers and what occurred to, by, and between them during the Age of the Obsidian Throne. ¨C ¡°They say that long ago there was a great battle fought here between seven different armies at once,¡± said V¨ªnaris. ¡°They say that it was so fierce and bloody that only a few knights remained in the end. They say that the blood of countless men watered the ground that day and that is why the grasses now grow red.¡± ¡°Is that tale true?¡± Gildran asked, walking alongside V¨ªnaris, shortening his usually-long strides to match her short, stately ones. She looked up at him, silver eyes eerily catching the sunlight and reflecting it back in fiery hues. ¡°Who can tell?¡± She answered. ¡°It was so long ago. But it is a tale recorded in our archives, and we Ciphers strive to always scribe the whole truth. That is why we are a neutral party and respected in all thirteen realms.¡± ¡°They all trust you to record the whole story,¡± Gil thought aloud. V¨ªnaris gave him a nod, a small smile curving her perfect lips. ¡°You are correct, Gildran eldn Thaliondor.¡± She replied. He smiled, pleased at her praise. ¡°How did you become a Cipher, V¨ªnaris?¡± Gil dared to ask. V¨ªr paused in her walk, looking out at the horizon of red cliffs as she contemplated. Gil stayed silent, letting her take her time, as the breeze swished the ankle-high red grasses against their legs. ¡°You know that it is something we choose to do once we become of age, understanding the consequences.¡± She said at last. Gil nodded. ¡°And that we forsake all family, all Houses, all loyalty, all love.¡± Gildran nodded again. ¡°And that once we are Ciphers we can choose to return to our old lives, but the decision can be made only once. And even when we return, it is often to strained relationships.¡± Gil nodded a third time. V¨ªr looked up at him and a slight smirk curved her perfect lips. ¡°You ask me how I became a Cipher, Gildran, but methinks the question you ought be asking is not ¡®how¡¯, but ¡®why¡¯.¡± Gildran smiled, amused. ¡°Alright.¡± He said. ¡°Why did you become a Cipher?¡± ¡°Ah,¡± V¨ªnaris said, letting loose a sigh. ¡°Now, there is a different question entirely.¡± She became lost in thought once more, gazing at the horizon. Then she spoke. ¡°I will answer both questions, hopefully to your satisfaction, Gildran eldn Thaliondor. The process of becoming a Cipher is long and hard. You are trained to travel, to fight, to exist. You are molded into a watcher, a shadow, a mere resemblance of what you once were. You forsake your name, your family, your House. You walk away from it all and you don¡¯t look back. At first, you don¡¯t look back because it hurts too much. Then, you don¡¯t look back because there is no reason to. The you you were then is gone now, and only the Cipher remains. There is nothing else for you. This is the unspoken law we live by, and it is only broken occasionally. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°As for the why,¡± she sighed again. ¡°Well, because history is a precious thing, Gildran. It is to be prized even above Lorenium. You may have Lorenium, but you may also have ignorance and conflict as well. But with history, you have knowledge of past mistakes and a chance to learn from them. Our task is to record it all. The details. The skirmishes. The squabbles. The betrayals, the assassinations, and the secret conspiracies. We record and we do not judge or condemn¡­ I saw Eldragor begin down his dark path long ago, even before he and I had grown out of our youth. I read the histories and saw where this could all end. I became a Cipher, so that I might help continue the histories and perhaps prevent the tragedies that occur around the Obsidian Throne.¡± She turned to meet his eyes. ¡°Alas, lasting peace was not to be. That my cousin found the Obsidian Throne is no accident. But nothing I could do could prevent this.¡± She looked away. ¡°I became a Cipher because I wanted to help, teach, and protect. Now I remain as a Cipher because there is nothing else left for me.¡± Gildran reached for her hand, and serene silver eyes met a gaze of pale gold. ¡°What if¡­ there were something, V¨ªr?¡± He asked softly. She smiled, silver eyes sparkling in the sun. The red grasses swished softly in the breeze. ¡°Unless you could find a very good reason for me to forsake my calling as a Cipher, Gildran, then I don¡¯t think there is.¡± ¡°I-I would like to give you a very good reason.¡± He said earnestly. ¡°Would¨C would you come back to this life¡­ for me? When I¡¯m with you, I¨C I don¡¯t feel so¡­ chained. Like a captive. Eldragor¡¯s voice¨C and the other voices too¨C they¡¯re not so loud, not so demanding. When I¡¯m with you¡­ I feel almost¡­ sane. Free.¡± V¨ªnaris regarded him for a moment, smiling, silver eyes sparkling. ¡°I think¡­¡± She began. ¡°I think¡­ that I would come back¡­ for you, Gil.¡± ¡°I¨C I love you.¡± He admitted shyly and a bit ashamed, his cheeks blushing deep pink. ¡°And¡­ and I¨C I know I should not. I have no right¡­ not after all I¡¯ve done. You¡¯re too pure, too good. And¡­ I should not because I wish to see you safe from Eldragor.¡± V¨ªr laughed, a clear, bright sound. Music to Gildran¡¯s soul. ¡°I have no fear of Eldragor, Gildran.¡± She said, smiling. ¡°And I do not wish your guilt to keep you from loving me. I will come back for you, yes.¡± Gildran smiled, his cheeks flushing an even deeper pink under his tan. ¡°Thank you.¡± He whispered, looking at the crimson grasses beneath his feet. Then looked back up into V¨ªr¡¯s silver eyes. Oh, but he loved the sound of her husky voice. That was the voice that drove all the others away. That was the voice that held the fracturing fragments of his sanity together. He cast his gaze to the ground again, ashamed. ¡°I need you.¡± He realized in a whisper, with a tinge of anger. ¡°And I hate it.¡± V¨ªnaris gazed at him, puzzled. Gil lifted his eyes to hers, tortured. ¡°I don¡¯t¨C want to love you because I need you.¡± He explained. ¡°I want to love you just to love you. For who you are. Not for what you can do for me.¡± He bit off his words tersely. ¡°Ah, Gildran.¡± V¨ªr said, smiling once more. She squeezed his hand gently, reassuringly. ¡°I would be a poor choice of bride if I could not help you. The truth is, we need each other. And if there is love mixed with that, then Father Fate has set it to be all the better. True love is shown through sacrifice. Through the un-begrudging giving of oneself. I am prepared for that, Gil. Don¡¯t fret.¡± He swallowed hard, and nodded, seeming to wage some inner war. His free hand captured hers, his rough calluses cradling her more delicate calluses. ¡°I swear to you,¡± he said, his voice ragged with emotion. ¡°I swear to you, V¨ªr, I will protect you from anyone and anything, until my last breath leaves my lungs and my soul departs for the Starlit Realms. I swear it, V¨ªnaris.¡± ¡°Then you love me.¡± She confirmed softly, smiling. Utterly confident as always. In her confidence he found courage to smile, and dared to hope. In the face of her ever-present joy, even his brokenness faded. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him. They stood there until the sun set behind the cliffs, watching the breeze stir the ankle-high, crimson blades. Lingered for as long as they dared on the plain where the red grasses grow. Brothers ¨C One excerpt in a compilation of many recordings of the Thaliondor brothers and what occurred to, by, and between them during the Age of the Obsidian Throne. ¨C ¡°Wait up, Ran¨ª!¡± Gildran called out. His short, seven-year-old legs struggled through the long, golden grasses as he hurried after his older brother. ¡°Ran¨ª!¡± Aerand¨ªr slowed his pace and looked back at his younger brother. ¡°Come on, Gil!¡± He called, waving his hand. ¡°I am coming!¡± Gildran puffed, disgruntled. ¡°My legs are too short!¡± ¡°Mine aren¡¯t much longer, you know.¡± Aerand¨ªr pointed out as Gildran stumbled up to him. The breeze brushed a healthy pink hue into both little boys¡¯ cheeks. ¡°Yeah, but you¡¯re older, Ran¨ª.¡± Gildran grumbled, his black hair flopping into his eyes. He shoved it out of his face. ¡°I¡¯m nine sun-cycles.¡± Aerand¨ªr stated matter-of-factly. ¡°That¡¯s still old!¡± Aerand¨ªr scoffed. ¡°Not that old, Gil. Now come on! I want to see the Elanthir blossoms!¡± With that, he took off again, running in short, hopping steps through the tall, golden grass, Gildran puffing behind him. ¡°Ran¨ª!¡± The two boys stumbled to a halt before a massive, squat tree in the middle of the golden field. The tree was in full leaf, lush and green. At the end of every small twig and branch was a fat, quivering, closed blossom the size of a man¡¯s fist. Each blossom¡¯s petals were wrapped around each other; the plump pods resembled a tightly woven cocoon. Each was a mixture of ethereal gold, pink, lavender, and white. Each glowed almost imperceptibly with a pale light. The two boys gazed up at the tree in awe. The midmorning sunlight shone through the leaves and haloed the blossoms before catching in the golden highlights of Aerand¨ªr¡¯s ash-blond locks and the deep-blue highlights in Gildran¡¯s black hair. They watched in reverent silence, their limbs still and calm for once, as the blossoms slowly, quiveringly unfurled into beautiful flowers the size of dinner plates. The sight was breathtaking, its beauty surprisingly not lost on the two young elves. For a full minute after the blossoms had all opened, Aerand¨ªr and Gildran stood gaping at the sight. Then the stillness was shattered as both boys made a break for the tree. ¡°I¡¯m going to get Mother the first blossom of the Elanth¨ªr tree!¡± Aerand¨ªr shouted, pulling ahead of his brother. ¡°No! I want to!¡± Gildran shrieked. He grabbed for Aerand¨ªr¡¯s shirt, but missed, as Aerand¨ªr hoisted himself into the lowest branches of the tree. Gil scrambled up behind him. He caught up to his brother a few branches later and grasped a handful of Aerand¨ªr¡¯s cream-colored tunic. ¡°Ran¨ª, no! Let me!¡± ¡°Let go! I¡¯m getting it!¡± Aerand¨ªr¡¯s hand grasped the base of one of the fat blossoms and plucked it from the branch just as his foot slipped and Gil tugged on him. With twin gasps of fear and surprise, the two boys toppled out of the tree and hit the ground with a solid thud. They lay sprawled on their backs, limbs tangled, gazing up at the sunlit leaves of the tree. Each was wondering what exactly had happened. Gildran was the first to recover. He rolled over onto his stomach and got his hands and knees under himself. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°The flower! It¡¯s squished!¡± He wailed in dismay as his eye caught on the smashed blossom beneath Aerand¨ªr¡¯s leg. ¡°Oh great.¡± Aerand¨ªr muttered, picking himself up and dusting off his clothes. Gil hung his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ran¨ª.¡± He whispered. ¡°It¡¯s my fault it got squished.¡± Aerand¨ªr bit back the tirade of disgust and grumpiness he had been about to unleash at his little brother. Instead, he laid his hand on Gil¡¯s shoulder, thinking about how his father would handle this. ¡°True, but I forgive you, Gil.¡± He said kindly. ¡°Here, you can help get another flower!¡± He tousled his brother¡¯s hair, then crouched slightly, lacing his fingers together into a cup. Gildran¡¯s face lit up in a bright smile. He grasped Aerand¨ªr¡¯s shoulder and placed his booted foot in his brother¡¯s hands. Aerand¨ªr braced and lifted, and up Gil went! One foot in his brother¡¯s laced hands, one foot hanging in midair, and a hand grasping the shoulder of Aerand¨ªr¡¯s tunic, Gildran stretched up his other hand for one of the lowest Elanth¨ªr blossoms. His fingers brushed it, then grabbed it. Plucked it free and Aerand¨ªr lowered Gil to the ground. ¡°Ooh, that¡¯s a pretty one!¡± He exclaimed, pleased. Gildran grinned. ¡°Aerand¨ªr! Gildran!¡± A musical, feminine voice floated out over the golden grasses of the field. Both boys perked up. ¡°Here, Mother!¡± They cried, hopping up and down. Gildran held the Elanth¨ªr blossom aloft. Lady Fenwyn ambled serenely through the field, her hand tucked in the crook of her lord¡¯s elbow. Her husband, Lord Aelr¨ªon, smiled at his sons as they enthusiastically greeted their parents. The two boys dashed up to Fenwyn and Aelr¨ªon and Gildran shoved the Elanth¨ªr blossom into his mother¡¯s hand. ¡°Here, Mother! We picked it together!¡± ¡°It¡¯s for you! The blossoms have already opened!¡± ¡°You¡¯re late, but we got one for you!¡± ¡°We fell out of the tree, but then Gil apologized and¨C¡± ¡°It was on a low branch! Ran¨ª held me up so I could reach!¡± ¡°¨C We¡¯re fine, and look, the flower¡¯s still glowing!¡± Their words tumbled over each other as they gazed up at their parents¡¯ amused faces. The boys¡¯ features were veritably glowing with delight as they halted their rambling sentences, breathless. Aelr¨ªon laughed, resolving to get the full story from his sons later in the day. Fenwyn grinned, clearly enjoying her children¡¯s antics. ¡°I thank you,¡± She said. Happy and laughing, the boys scampered off, satisfied that their mother enjoyed their gift. Gildran chased Aerand¨ªr back to the Elanth¨ªr tree. The black-haired boy snatched up a long stick from the grass beneath the tree and settled into a clumsy stance. ¡°En guarde, Ran¨ª!¡± He shouted at his brother. Grinning, Aerand¨ªr picked up a stick of his own. Their laughter and happy shrieks could be heard all across the field as two brothers proceeded to battle each other with their ¡®swords¡¯. ~ Fenwyn watched them, smiling in happy contentment at her sons. The breeze blew her black hair across her face, and she brushed it aside. ¡°They¡¯re so much like you.¡± She murmured to her husband. He smiled in reply, his eyes on the boys. ¡°They will be fine warriors when they grow.¡± He said. ~ ¡°I¡¯m a mighty warrior like Father!¡± Gildran cried, slashing a fierce blow at his brother. Aerand¨ªr caught it on the blade of his ¡®sword¡¯ and shoved against Gil¨C who surprisingly held his ground. ¡°I¡¯m F¨¢elar the Lightbound!¡± Aerand¨ªr retorted, grinning, as he and Gildran exchanged a flurry of (clumsy) blows. ¡°No fair!¡± Gil cried. ¡°He¡¯s a legend!¡± ¡°I know.¡± ¡°Then I¡¯m Maeth¨®r the Swiftblade!¡± Gil proclaimed, swinging his stick with gusto. With glad shouts and many happy, brotherly insults, the two boys carried on their fight for a while longer, until Gildran succeeded in shoving his brother over, knocking him onto his back. On his way to the ground, Aerand¨ªr grabbed Gil¡¯s arm and tunic and took him down with him. Sticks discarded and forgotten, the boys wrestled until they collapsed onto their backs in sheer exhaustion. They lay there in the golden grass, panting. Watching the clouds meander by in the blue sky above. ¡°You are indeed a mighty warrior.¡± Aerand¨ªr complemented his brother. Gil grinned. ¡°So¡¯re you. You¡¯re going to be just like Father some day, Ran¨ª.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll both be mighty warriors and none shall stand against us!¡± Aerand¨ªr fantasized, squeezing one eye closed and raising a hand skyward, tracing shapes in the clouds. ¡°We¡¯ll fight every battle together!¡± Gildran carried the fantasy further. ¡°Always have each other¡¯s backs.¡± Aerand¨ªr agreed. ¡°Brothers no matter what.¡± Gildran nodded decisively. He looked over at Aerand¨ªr, his slightly chubby face suddenly sober. ¡°I swear it, Ran¨ª.¡± Aerand¨ªr met his brother¡¯s gaze. ¡°¡®Swear it¡¯?¡± He queried. Gil nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll need each other. I can feel it in my tummy. Father says dark things are getting more common. We need to fight them.¡± He said with all the wisdom of a child. Aerand¨ªr nodded in sudden agreement. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll always have your back, Gil. No matter what. I swear it.¡± ¡°No matter what.¡± Gil tasted the words and smiled. ¡°Forever and always. I swear it.¡± Presume Me Dead ¨C One excerpt in a compilation of many recordings of the Thaliondor brothers and what occurred to, by, and between them during the Age of the Obsidian Throne. ¨C Surprisingly, considering it was a dungeon, the cell was completely¨C almost dustily¨C dry. It was cold, however, with an icy chill that seeped into the bones. Above the cell, one could hear roars and growls and screams¨C the dragon and werewolf pens during feeding time. The fire-breathing wyrms emitted an aura of nearly-physical, debilitating dread. It was known as the Shadow of Fear, and it seeped down through the black marble into the dungeon. It did not help the cold any. Chains clinked and prisoners cried out, but there was no rescue for any of them. Somewhere in here, there was his father and some of his noble friends, Aerand¨ªr knew. He didn¡¯t care anymore. The pain and the cold sapped all feeling from him. If they came into his cell and killed him outright, it would be a mercy. He halfway wished they would do so. Keys jingled in the corridor and the door to his cell clanked and groaned as it opened. Hanging in his shackles, the elf princeling didn¡¯t bother opening his eyes. The left one was caked shut with blood anyhow. He forced a grating, mirthless chuckle from his throat as quiet footsteps padded into the cell. ¡°Come back for more?¡± He asked, the stone floor icy and hard against his bruised knees. ¡°Come to test my resolve again? You will never break me. But please, I invite you to try.¡± The newcomer knelt beside him with a whisper of cloth and leather. A warm hand grasped his cold, raw wrist. ¡°Well met, brother.¡± A quiet voice breathed in his ear, devoid of nearly all emotion. ¡°Gil?¡± Aerand¨ªr said incredulously. ¡°Hush.¡± The assassin whispered. He fingered the chains, then stepped back. A whisper of air parted around something very, very sharp. ¡°What are you doing, traitor?¡± Aerand¨ªr asked quietly, cracking his good eye open to glare at his brother. Gil flinched slightly, his head bowed, his shaggy black hair hiding his face. Aerand¨ªr¡¯s Lorenium longsword was in the assassin¡¯s hand, and he raised it. He turned his face even further away. ¡°What does it look like?¡± He retorted. ¡°Hold very still, brother. Vandril has the keys to the chains. I was able to steal the cell keys, but only Lorenium can break Lorenium.¡± ¡°What¨C Wait. No.¡± Aerand¨ªr¡¯s good eye widened as he realized what Gildran had in mind. ¡°Just go find the keys. Please.¡± ¡°Vandril will kill me if I do that.¡± Gil replied, aiming carefully. ¡°Gil¡­¡± ¡°Hear me, brother. Eldragor has dark plans for you. I may be bound to him, but I need only obey direct orders. He didn¡¯t speak to me about you, so I am free¨C for now¨C to do this. I don¡¯t want to see you broken by Eldragor as I was.¡± The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Then you should have killed me in the forest.¡± Aerand¨ªr spat. ¡°I don¡¯t want to see you dead, either.¡± Gil replied bitterly. Aerand¨ªr snorted in mirthless amusement. ¡°One of those choices is a whole lot better than the other, brother.¡± ¡°Regardless.¡± The assassin replied. ¡°Just shut up and let me do this, will you?¡± ¡°If I had the strength right now, I¡¯d kill you.¡± Aerand¨ªr retorted. Gildran lifted his chin slightly, a faint smirk curving his lips. Without another word, he lifted the longsword high, then brought it smashing down on the chain shackling his brother¡¯s left wrist. Aerand¨ªr sucked in a sharp breath and groaned as the chain pulled upon his already-wounded flesh. The Lorenium links vibrated and rang out with a strong, clear note. Gildran lifted the longsword again and struck a second time. The chain tolled again. ¡°Stop.¡± Aerand¨ªr groaned. Gildran ignored him, gritting his teeth and swinging with all his strength. The chain shattered and Aerand¨ªr cried out, cradling his bloody wrist to his chest. ¡°Just one more.¡± Gildran said, raising the sword once more. ¡°Brother, please¡­ just kill me now.¡± Aerand¨ªr pleaded. The chain pealed out its clear note. Then again. Shouts sounded from the depths of the dungeon. Guards had noticed the commotion. ¡°One¡­ more¡­ time¡­¡± Gil grunted, striking once more. Lorenium shards sprayed all across the cell, and Gil ducked away, shielding his face with his forearm. He slowly straightened to see both chains were now shattered, and he held the broken stump of his brother¡¯s sword in his hand. Aerand¨ªr lay crumpled, doubled over upon the cold floor. ¡°Oops.¡± Gil said, eyeing the broken sword in his hand, then shrugged. ¡°Come,¡± he hoisted his brother upright and slung Aerand¨ªr¡¯s arm over his shoulders. ¡°I know a way out. I can get you there, but the rest is up to you.¡± ¡°In the state I am now?¡± Aerand¨ªr asked angrily, hobbling along as his brother half-dragged him through the corridors of the dungeon. ¡°You¡¯ll have to manage somehow.¡± Gil said, stone-faced. The guards drew nearer, though still out of sight. ¡°I hate you.¡± Aerand¨ªr hissed. ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± Gil replied, looking straight ahead. He bore his brother to a large door in the wall. The roar of turbulent waters echoed from beyond it. ¡°What is this place?¡± Aerand¨ªr asked warily. ¡°It¡¯s where we dispose of refuse and corpses.¡± Gildran said. He leaned his brother against the wall and heaved the door open with one hand. ¡°This is your way out.¡± ¡°Gil,¡± Aerand¨ªr said, wide-eyed, shaking his head. ¡°If I go into that river right now, I will die as surely as if you had stabbed me through yourself.¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid it gets worse.¡± Gil said, finally meeting the First Heir¡¯s eyes. ¡°I need a believable excuse for when Eldragor questions me. I need it to look like I killed you.¡± He took a step towards his brother, broken sword still in his hand. ¡°Wait. No. Brother, please.¡± Aerand¨ªr pleaded. Gil continued, unrelenting. ¡°There is no other way.¡± He said flatly. The assassin grasped his brother¡¯s shoulder and drove the jagged stump of the sword blade through the side of Aerand¨ªr¡¯s ribs. The princeling gasped in pain, his eye wide with hurt and shock. Blood quickly soaked his dirty, ragged tunic. Gil jerked the blade free, slightly-glowing crimson staining its length. ¡°There was no other way?¡± Aerand¨ªr asked hoarsely, grasping his brother¡¯s arm tightly, looking up into his eyes. Pain made his voice thick. Gil shook his head mutely, apology in his gaze. Aerand¨ªr closed his eye and gave a nod. ¡°Then presume me dead,¡± The princeling whispered, ¡°to you, traitor.¡± Gil pushed his brother away, and Aerand¨ªr toppled out the refuse gate and into the raging river below. an excerpt from the journal of Lady Faelith eldn Arassuil *earlier text obscured by a bloodstain* ¡ª I saw a darkness in his eyes then, that I¡¯d never seen before. And I knew then too¨C he meant to kill us. He smiled at us, a bloodstained blade in his hand. Nyel¨®r asked him, ¡°What are you doing, son?¡± But he made no answer, just smiled that satisfied, triumphant smirk. The next thing I knew, there was a shadow enveloping my son, and he moved with lightning speed. Suddenly his father lay on the floor, bleeding, dead from a slash to the throat. He paused, turned towards me, still smiling. ¡°Will you join me, Mother?¡± He asked. ¡°Or will you join him?¡± He gestured at Nyel¨®r¡¯s lifeless body. ¡°What have you done?¡± I whispered in horror, no other words in my mind. What had happened to my son? He had gone hunting fell beasts and not come back. We¡¯d thought him dead. But now here he was, with a blade in his hand and a darkness in his soul that had not been present before. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. He must have seen my answer and horror in my eyes, for he moved again. I blinked and he had darted across the space separating us. I took his blade through the stomach; the pain is some of the worst I have ever felt. But worse is the pain of my son¡¯s betrayal. What has he done? I know the old legends, and the only thing I can think of is that my son has somehow found and sat upon the long-forgotten Obsidian Throne. ¡°Why?¡± I asked, collapsed upon the floor, as my son was leaving the room. He looked at me over his shoulder. ¡°Why, for power, Mother.¡± He replied softly. ¡°For the king-ship. Any who will not kneel, must die.¡± Then he departed¨C for more slaughter, no doubt. My husband lies on the floor. He has already passed through the Gloaming. I will soon join him. I have managed to drag myself to my writing desk and pen this entry in my journal. Even now I feel my life slipping away, draining with the lifeblood that pours in a slightly-glowing river from my wound. This is my last entry. Would not that my son had done this. Would that my son had died during his hunt. What has he done? I am fading. What will he do? What will come of this, but war? My hand grows cold and numb. I am slipping from life. My Gloaming is at hand. Would that my son¡­ *entry trails off*