THE KING'S DAUGHTER - Chapter Thirteen (The Feast of Ages)

The Arrival

A great caravan of nobility mounted upon fine steeds, festooned with all manner of banners and heralds, wound its way to the west. Behind them came a train of carts, some overflowing with people, most overflowing with supplies. Through the green leafy forests they traveled, meandering for two weeks across the countryside until they spied the twinkling silver-blue-green waters belonging to the Ocean of Dahud-Ahes. The smell of the salt in the air increased the pace of the riders, anxious to reach the coastal fortress of their King.

At the head of the column rode Manann, atop his favorite black stallion he whimsically named Splendorous Mane. Aibell rode behind him upon her white palfrey, which had bells and ribbons woven through the mane, each step jingling merrily. Sorja rode alongside the Princess on a chestnut gelding, and Turlough followed them all with one hundred men-at-arms, each identically dressed in burgundy tabards over chainmail, marching in synchronization. The rest of the court followed, according to their status and how well they were in the King's good graces.

At every tiny settlement they passed as they made the trek to the coast, peasants would gather and sing praises of the King they so adored.

"May the Gods bless ye with a long life!" Many people cried out as the train moved though the farmsteads. Both sides of the road were crowded with people, for rarely did the King venture from his favorite palace of Kellanach. He waved grandly from his proud steed, eliciting cheers from the commoners.

Little mud-encrusted urchins ran up to the palfrey and pressed small bouquets of wildflowers into Aibell's bejeweled hand. Smiling warmly at the children, she called out a hearty "Thank you!" as they scampered back to the awaiting arms of their beaming mothers.

They stopped at the last town before they reached the coastal road. It had been several days since there was a break in the riding, and Aibell prettily requested to her father that they pause in their journey so she could bathe the dust of the road from her. She was used to daily baths, and being on the go allotted no time to do a decent job of cleaning. Manann relented, for Aibell was not the only one asking for a short break. Clothing would be washed and mended, the tack for the horses checked for wear, and most of all, blessed rest.

Zolarose was a peaceful hamlet, deep within the farming community. They rode past apple and pear orchards, past fields of ripening grain, past dairies and groves of cherry trees. Then the town was spotted, and the pace of the riders picked up. Many buildings came into view as they neared. There was an inn and a pub, many houses and a market square. A voice called out. “The King comes, the King comes! Gather ye sorry arses and salute the King! The King comes to Zolarose!” The citizens of the village gathered and tossed flowers at the King and his party. Manann nodded and waved to the gentle souls who saluted him. The train of nobility and guards followed their King out of the Village and to the nearest meadow. It was there that they set up camp. Aibell was adamant about getting a warm bath. This wish was carried out by the Zolarose's own innkeeper by provinding a deep tub for the princess to use. Hot water was carried to her tent by a line of pages. They sloshed the water in the tub while the princess poured a dram of oil into the water. The oil was a gift from the innkeeper as well. He had told her when the tub was dropped off, "To accompany your bath, an oil distilled by my wife from our own bushes. Enjoy it and think of your humble subjects of Zolarose."

Aibell accepted it with a genuine smile. "I appreciate it more for the fact that it was made by your wife. Please tender my thanks to her."

Aibell loved the people, the land and the sea of Maicair Caylus, the very traditions and customs. This would be the first Feast of Ages she was to attend, and how fabled the feast was!

Dignitaries of all the kingdoms were sure to be there, and perhaps her betrothed would attend.

Cloistered away in the heart of Fey forest, she learned naught but sums, history of the Faery, writing with an elegant hand and the tongue of the Pixxish... But the Feast of Ages was Magick of the highest order. Magick had been denied her, for every time she would mention it to her father, the King would kindly put his foot down, and with a muttered oath from Turlough who was usually at his Royal cousin's side, the subject was dropped until the next time she dared to inquire.

Other than disappearing at will, there was no Magick she knew. Oh, aye, there were many of the Fey heritage that did not practice spellcraft, or anything of the like, but there was a much larger percentage that did. Even children of nine could light fire with out a flint and steel, or any mundane means.

Yet, she as hostess to the Feast of Ages would be swimming in Magick, for the very essence of the Hidden Realm was hidden away by the Faery. Presented to all at the Feast, where a special toast was to be made with the famed elixir of life, Rose Bloom Dew.

Growing within the coastal fortress, beneath the ocean floor, there was the last of a very rare breed of rose located in a special room, with a ceiling of crystal clear quartz several feet thick so you could sea the ocean above shine through the stone. A hedge of thirteen rose plants, all with leaves of black and blooms the color of the ocean blue, swirled about with silver of the surf. From these petals, a liqueur was distilled from a very old and treasured recipe. As hostess, she will be the one to recite the history and to offer the toast. Hopefully watching her will be the Prince of Feenoriah.

Oh how much she wanted to see Denilus in the flesh, to see how much he differed from the miniature he had sent her father. Witness for herself, if his eyes were indeed that bonny shade of peacock blue, or if his hair really was the color of sun-ripened wheat. She would ask Sorja's opinion of him, for the Pixxi would not lie. If he was as rotten in the inside as Urlian turned out to be, there be no wedding, that was for certain. Aibell was not going to sacrifice her happiness on someone who would not treat her as a Royal Fey; oh she had almost made that mistake with Urlian, and she was not going to make that mistake again. Her mind, not her status is what she wanted to be the motivating factor in her marriage; however such luxuries as love usually was not granted to the nobility. Power and money were the bonds that the aristocracy used to arrange marriages. Love was for the peasants. With a heavy heart, she began to ponder Sorja and her reaction.

Aibell did not like lying to Sorja. It was not in her nature to fib; however she did not need sympathy from the Pixxi when the treachery of Urlian was found out, nor did she want to see a momentary flash of "I told you so!" in Sorja's mystical yellow eyes, or even worse, the gleam of pity.

If Urlian had not called her whore, would she still be attracted to him? It was a conundrum, and it bothered her so, that she could be swayed by a handsome face and a well-turned leg. He had seemed so honest with her, so sincere, but it was a lie. A lie for what purpose she knew naught, for they had only shared a few quick kisses. Aibell always thought she was intelligent, but after the incident with the Elf, she was not so sure of herself. An intelligent person would have noticed the sly stares, the volley of whispers. An observant person would have seen the larger picture and not the Viscount's moss green eyes and winning smile. Aibell felt like a fool, and it did not sit well with her. Why did no one tell her of the treachery of men?

She pushed the thoughts from her mind and concentrated on the landscape. It was early spring, so there were multitudes and myriads of plant life in all of its glory; flowers were a blaze of color offset with the greens of the oaken forest. All those flowers in bloom created a springtime perfume, which had a few courtiers dealing with the sniffles. Deer stood elegantly poised to prance off as the caravan of happy nobility and guards drifted by.

Days passed, falling into a rhythm of sameness; get up, close down camp, pack it all up and begin the ride. Stop for nooning, where all ate upon blankets spread out on the forest floor.

Men hunted game for the evening meal; women gossiped or repaired their gowns. Mount up again, and ride until late afternoon. Set up camp, dinner, a simple entertainment such as singing, or harp playing, then sleep. Repeat as needed.

Then, there it was! A tall white spire stood regally on an outcropping of dark, lichen covered rock, majestic and tall against the pale blue sky of early morn. The road narrowed, and instead of vegetation surrounding them, it was a craggy pass of the same stone at the tower. In a single file they rode, the string of riders and carts reaching over a mile in length, like thread being pushed through the eye of the needle.

The spire seemed to touch the clouds, the three tiers of wrap-around balconies graced with huge iron sconces to hold equally large torches. Topped with a peaked roof with an observation platform, the fortress looked small but daunting. Yet it was what lay beneath the surf and sand that was the truly spectacular part of the fortress. The seaside tower wasn't the fortress, merely a large stable and garrison barracks. When the tall arched doorways of stone opened, there was three paths; one for the riders, one for the soldiers, one to the fortress itself.

The soldier's barracks were the upper stories; the stable was located on the ground floor. But the middle path began a steep sloping path down, down into the darkness of the earth. Carved walls of stone, forty feet high and domed with white quartz stone, with veins of gold running through it loomed overhead. Blue orbs the size of trenchers hovered overhead, floating above and following the people, illuminating the pathway for them. For what seemed an hour, the whole court of Maicair Caylus silently made the journey into the womb of the earth.

Double gates of the same blue material of the glowing orb began to shine brighter as they made their approach. The whole cavern was awash with the light emanating from the strange crystalline doors when King Manann walked to them and touched his forehead to the door lightly. Swinging open on silent hinges, the innards of the underground citadel were revealed.

Day One

Footmen dressed in green and gold livery waited in a line, collecting the reins of horses to take back up to the stables. The whole receiving chamber was eerily lit with the glowing blue crystal veins that were meshed within the quartz walls. A domed ceiling twelve feet wide was overhead, of clear quartz, thick enough to keep the chamber dry, but thin enough to let the seascape above it show through. Fish swam hither and fro, singly and in shoals. Kelp swayed with the current, dancing in place to a watery harmony. A large black shape began to pass above the dome, blocking out all the light and rendering the living tableau unwatchable. Abel noted the two doors on the wall across the way from the door. She wondered where they lead to.

"Aibell, your father requests our presence. The Queen Mabv has been spotted and shall be docking soon." Sorja stood beside the Princess, looking up at the darkened under sea community with interest. "Come, I will walk with you."

"Queen Mabv? Where does that ship hail from? Who is on it, I wonder?" Aibell broke her gaze from the domed ceiling and began the walk to the quay.

"The ship comes from Misthaven; it is the royal barge. My cousin Tiirska will be on it, and her husband Leomal. I spent a small part of my fostership at their court."

Through the labyrinthine caverns they walked, above them at all times, the ever-present glowing orb of blue light. The stone walls that surrounded them were not slimy or damp-- they were perfectly dry with an ivy leaf and vine design carved into them. A staircase etched into the bowels of the earth cut its way up the rock, up to a tiny aperture of light. The two maidens hiked their skirts up, and made it up the steps in what must had been record time. They emerged out of the darkness and into a beautiful coastal day. They blinked and covered their eyes for a few moments as their eyes adjusted. Spying her father and Turlough, Aibell walked to the quay just as a large silver-gilt colored boat was docking. Sails of blue and red fluttered in the salt scented breeze. A plank was lowered, and a man walked off the boat, garbed in a long dark purple robe that seemed to be made out of mist and stone woven together. Around his neck was a golden amulet in the shape of a sun, set with a large amber cabochon in the center. His square, bearded face and intelligent deep brown eyes surveyed the group who had gathered to meet him.

"My Lord Maganavus! How pleased we are to have you join us for the Feast." Manann bowed to the tall stranger.

"Please, Your Highness, call me Ruadhan-- I have not yet accustomed myself to being call the Maganavus." Ruadhan bowed in return to the King of the Fey.

"Cousin!" Sorja squealed in delight as she ran up to her kin, a large smile splitting her round face. "Why did you not tell me you had become Maganavus?" Remembering her manners, she introduced Aibell to the Misthaven wizard, while Manann diverted his attention on the second boat getting ready to dock. "Princess Aibell dela Kaelis nea Manann, this is my cousin, Ruadhan Navarilin, the recently-made Maganavus of Misthaven."

Aibell raised her dark pansy purple eyes to Ruadhan's gold-speckled emerald ones and smiled as she dipped down into an elegant curtsy. He held her gaze and it seemed to the Princess that he had no intention of relinquishing it anytime soon. His rich voice murmured, "Cousin, you failed to mention the beauty of the Princess when you described her in your last letter home. For shame, Sorja!" Ruadhan smiled and winked at his cousin. "But you have been most dutiful, and our cousin, Queen Tiirska, has not forgotten it. Her highness bid me to bring you an early natal day gift."

Ruadhan stood aside, revealing another man who could not stop staring at Sorja. He stood about a foot and a half taller than the Pixxi, and had an exotic look about him. Skin of light gold, hair of dark purple-red and eyes of solid obsidian drank in the very sight of Sorja. The Pixxi bit her lip then whispered one word. With a smile, he opened his arms, and into them she ran without a second thought of who was there looking at them in wonder. He held her tight, resting his head on hers, while she stood with a contented smile upon her face. The mysterious man's beautiful cloak seemed quilted with some type of silver-tipped black fur and red metallic fabric. Along the edges there were strange markings embroidered with gold and silver thread that gleamed in the sunlight. For a moment, as the two stood holding each other, the only thing one could hear was the snapping of his cloak as the wind tried carrying it off and wave after wave breaking upon the rock. It was as if time had just stood still for the two.

"Come Princess Aibell, let us leave them alone." Ruadhan took the Princess by the arm and led her away. By then, a gleaming gold ship with two masts had docked. Tiirska, Queen of Misthaven and her consort King Leomal disembarked and greeted Manann. The royalty began a conversation and seemed not to notice that Aibell was being led off by the Wizard.

"Who is that man? He and Sorja seem to... know each other." Aibell turned to face the Pixxish wizard with a look of curiosity.

Ruadhan smiled at the implied message. Sorja was not the type of person who would just go and grant any strangely attractive man a most emotional hug, and Aibell knew this. The wizard decided to tease the Princess. "Niall is her most bosom friend."

Seeing the look that plainly said elaborate please cross Aibell's face, he stopped joking. "He is Niall, the Bailiff of Humalaris, and husband to Sorja. They have not seen each other for nearly two years."

"Oh."

” 'Oh' what? Did she not tell you she was married?" Ruadhan asked jokingly, a smile upon his full lips.

"No, she never mentioned it. He does not look Pixxish." Aibell sounded somber, and when the wizard had looked over at her, she indeed had a serious look upon her youthful face.

"He is a Soulkais. A shape shifter. The Soulkais inhabit Humalaris, the island fortress of the Pixxish."

"He wears a magnificent cape, does he not? What sort of fur is that? Do you know?" Aibell cocked her head to one side and smiled, knowing now why Sorja always seemed a little sad. I would be too, if I had to leave a man I obviously adore, Aibell mused. She hoped to have that kind of love with Denilus eventually.

"It is his own fur." Aibell's brow furrowed so Ruadhan elaborated. "Ah, I see you are truly ignorant of the Soulkais. They shed their seal-like fur and gain an Otherkin shape. When Niall reverses that cloak he wears, and utters an incantation, he shapeshifts into a seal, dolphin, salmon... anything that can get waterlogged."

"You do not jest?" The Fey maiden began to feel very provincial and backwater. "I was educated to believe that there were only five races in all the Kingdoms, my lord. Please explain how I could have been misinformed."

"There are the five civilized races-- not to say that any other race is not civilized; however they have not reached the same social peak as the five main ones. There is the Fey of Maicair Caylus, as you know and beautifully represent, the Pixxi of Misthaven, of which I am a prime example," Ruadhan winked at Aibell's blush from the complement. "Elves of Ruhullald, Sprites of Regh Cutios and the Feenorians, kin to the Elves. But in addition, there are the Soulkais, HorseMen, Glints and more, all of which come from the Unclaimed Wilderness, which logically explains why you never heard of them. The Wilderness cradles many races and animals in her bosom, my lady."

"I thank you for the lesson, my lord. I was told, however, that the Unclaimed Wilderness hosted no peoples. How can that be, if Soulkais, Glints and HorseMen exist there? Was it always so?" Aibell attuned herself to this man of knowledge. Speaking with him but five minutes, and having gleaned such important information thrilled her. He knew so much more than she did, that was plainly evident. How Aibell wished she could gather all his information and knowledge for herself.

---

Sorja and Niall had begun to walk hand-in-hand behind Aibell and Ruadhan on the blue-green sand of the beach. There was a look of happiness upon Sorja's face that seemed to make her whole being glow with a radiant light. "Tell me darling, how is Ditdrah doing?"

Niall's husky voice replied, "She grows more like you every day. I have not seen her since her last natal day. She's five now, so she was sent to be fostered." The two had stopped walking and sat atop a boulder that peeped out from the sand. "She still is odd-eyed-- I had hoped it would have changed as she grew, but it did not. Her right eye is still yellow and her left is still solid black." He shook his head. "If it had been any other color of eye but my own!"

"I like your eyes. They are black as jet and as fathomless as the Scrying Pool of the Enclave. I like how there is no white-- just solid black. I wish Ditdrah had gotten both eyes like yours. How is she doing in the fostership?" Sorja rested her head upon her husband's chest as he held her tightly.

"Again, like her mother, she is showing a remarkable aptitude for Magick. I think she will do well with her mentor. She will be quite a sorceress when she comes of age. By the by, I asked your queenly cousin for a boon before we left Misthaven."

Sorja turned her head so she could look in the face of her beloved. "What did you ask of Tiirska?" Her brow knit, wondering what possibly he could have asked for that they did not have already.

"I asked Tiirska if it would be possible for Ditdrah to finish her training with Ruadhan. I thought it appropriate since he is now the highest ranking wizard in all of Misthaven, thus the kingdoms. She agreed." Niall smiled at the look of astonishment that crossed Sorja's face. "I am glad you are satisfied."

"You always satisfy me." Sorja winked up into the beaming face of Niall at the innuendo. She then looked out to the blue-blue ocean as the waves rolled up the beach to tickle their toes.

Gulls flew and cried out overhead, while a few tiny green crabs scuttled by. A few moments drifted by in perfect bliss, until another ship making its way to the coast was spotted on the horizon. "Whose ship is that?" Sorja asked with a squint on her face.

"Either it's the Sprite ship from Fentiu, or the Elves have resorted to slave labor."

The ship neared. Painted glossy black, it had sails of teal and thirty oars per side. The galley made slow progress to the dock, giving Niall and Sorja time to walk back to the quay.

---

A gilded litter hung with teal gauze curtains was carried off the galley by four handsome men, each two inches over six foot, with dark blonde hair and bight blue eyes. Each wore teal colored pantaloons with a cloth of gold belt, studded with oval cabochons of light and dark purple swirled charoite. Each wore an engraved silver collar, proclaiming him as the property of Actlanda, Empress of Regh Cutios.

When the litter had reached King Manann, it was gently set down, and a pale hand shot out between the curtains. Her skin was so delicate looking with a faint hint of lavender so translucent that the veins were clearly visible, covered long tapered fingers that ended in almond shaped nails, each perfectly buffed to a high sheen. An awning of teal silk with gold tassels carried on four ten-foot poles was quickly erected and brought over to shade the emerging Empress.

Manann gallantly held the hand and assisted Actlanda out of the litter. She stood before him, clad in a flowing wisp of black fabric that pooled at her feet, jet-black hair hanging about her shoulders like a satin cloak, dark blue eyes appraising him. "King Manann, you would grace my harem beautifully." The sun blared harshly though the awning, casting a teal sheen on Actlanda's hair.

Manann gave her a small smile. "Alas, Empress, I already have a temperamental mistress: my country. I do hope you enjoy your stay with us, my lady." She reminded him of someone, and he found the sensation somewhat disturbing. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun that beat down on the quay. "Ah! There they are! The Feenorians and Elves will be here soon. I was beginning to wonder what was taking them so long."

Sure enough, two large ships soon docked. The larger of them seemed to be hewn from oak varnished to a high luster. Striped sails of silver, red, black, and gold whipped about in the wind from a single tall mast.

Two men in ornate garb disembarked. The elder one wore a velvet tunic of scarlet and gold with black leggings embroidered with silver. His silver-brown hair was neatly combed back into a que, tied with black leather throngs. The younger, blonder man wore a black and gold-embroidered satin tunic with leggings; one leg was the color of fine red wine, the other leg as silver as a newly minted mark. The wind ruffled his wheaten locks and he laughed, not at all upset that the hard work his valet had dedicated to primping his hair into artful waves was now wasted.

King Manann greeted them warmly; after all, hopefully they would be his family by marriage. "King Renilus! Prince Denilus! I welcome you both to my humble chunk of rock."

Introductions were made. Denilus scanned the ever-growing crowd, looking for the face that was lovingly painted and sent to him in hopes of approval. Aibell was nowhere to be found, irking the Prince who had traveled for three weeks over water to meet his marriage candidate.

"Aibell, there you are!" Denilus turned to see a plump Pixxi wench standing next to a Soulkais, calling to someone on the beach. The fleeting thought of Soulkais? What was a Soulkais doing here? Uncivilized ruffians from the Unclaimed Wilderness do not belong at formal functions flit across the Prince's mind.

He frowned, spotting the toothsome redheaded wench walking along side a tall Pixxish man, unchaperoned. Denilus recognized the Princess, for the likeness of the painting was astounding. Spying the Amber Sun that the Pixxi wore around his neck, Denilus fumed. What was the Maganavus doing? Everyone knows a Maganavus never weds, for no woman can stand his devotion to duty. What was he doing alone with Aibell? She had best be unspoiled...

Manann called his daughter forth and introduced her to the guests. When she stood before King Renilus, he held her face in a talon-like grasp as he scrutinized her. He noticed that her eyes widened but did not lower. Good. "I can see your Princess has spirit. She is a beautiful girl, Manann. Aye, she looks to be a fit mate for my son. Denilus will give her handsome boys and beautiful girls to raise." He released her.

"I am also intelligent my lord." Aibell spoke quietly, feeling like a horse for sale with the close examination of her face. Surely there would be uses for her intelligence and independence, not just her physical appearance and reproductive capabilities.

"Feenoriah has no use for intelligent women. Should you wed my son, you are to beget an heir or two. In your fine education, you did learn that, did you not?” Renilus laughed at his own asinine jest, revealing rotted teeth of a yellowish hue.

Aibell narrowed her pansy-purple eyes. She opened her lips to speak, but before she could voice her opinion, Denilus interjected, "With all due respect Father, Princess Aibell is to wed I, not you. I am sure I can find a use for that facile brain of hers." Denilus smiled at the Princess.

Renilus looked to his son. "Aye, she will be your problem, Denilus. Women with intelligence always create problems," and smiled at Aibell who stood silent. "Aww, look upon that face of hers! That scowl could be carved out of stone! What self control she must have, for most lasses would be weeping or wailing by now. She knows how to bite her tongue. Good. She has my approval, Manann." Renilus turned and began barking orders to his servants unloading his trunks from the ship.

Denilus whispered to Aibell, "Do not mind him, he is merely testing you, trying to judge your reaction." Aibell's eyebrows shot up at this revelation. "He is most pleased, and will stop now, I promise."

"Did he think I was a milk-and-water lass?" Aibell put her fists on her hips. "I have been told on more than one occasion that the color of my hair was an accurate indication of my temper. Could he have been civil and asked questions instead of insulting me?" She dropped her arms to her side, while looking up to Denilus. He had bright peacock blue eyes, with cat-like slits for pupils. "If we wed, you had best know that I am well-enough educated to rule a kingdom. When my father passes on to the Summerlands, I will rule Maicair Caylus in my own right. You will be my consort, as I will be yours."

"You wish this to be an equal union?" Denilus sounded a bit surprised.

"I wish this to be a union of old, where women were equal to their mates in every respect. I see nothing wrong with that. I know my duty to my country. I can rule it like a man, and I want that acknowledged."

"Princess Aibell, you must realize that in Feenoriah men are the masters of their home, of their land, of all that is in their name, including their wives."

"And you must realize that I was raised to rule this land. As you are the heir to Feenoriah, I am the heiress to Maicair Caylus, whether you like it or not."

Denilus graced her with a polite smile. “You cannot fight like a man.”

Aibell paused and thought. “No, but I can outsmart a man.” She smiled up into his surprised face.

"You cannot lead soldiers into war. No man would follow a woman to battle!" His eyes narrowed as he waited for her reply.

She smiled sweetly into his face, and he was reminded anew of just how beautiful she was. "That may be so, however I will have a husband, a king no less who can lead the way to war." She arched her brow and waited for his retort. She liked verbal sparring with him.

Denilus cleared his throat and changed the subject. "I was given the understanding that Maicair Caylus and Feenoriah were to merge upon our father's deaths."

"Well, my lord, I was given the understanding that the two countries would be run separately, and given to our first born as a whole upon our deaths. It was our duty to prepare our people for the removal of boarders and the mingling of cultures."

Denilus began to chuckle. "My father was correct. I can envision you creating trouble already!"

"I suppose you are correct. As soon as you can accept the fact that I am your equal, the happier you will be." Aibell smiled. "Besides, would you not prefer a mate who could run your country should anything happen to you, rather than leave it in the hands of grasping, greedy lords or ill prepared children?"

"Lady, you are much too serious for such a lovely girl." Rather than argue about the inevitable future she was loathe to face, Denilus switched tactics to wooing. "Never have I beheld skin of such translucence! Eyes like gems of amethyst, glistening with dew. Lips the color of ripe berries, and your hair, my lady, is simply beautiful, putting the leaves of autumn to shame."

"Surely you see more than what is on the outside, my lord." Before Denilus could spout anymore dribble about her appearance, she gestured toward the ship that had docked behind the Feenorian boat. Urlian had showered her with false flattery, and she was in no mood to listen to Denilus do the same. "Ah, look! The Elvish ship has docked!"

---

Squinting against the sun, Manann whispered to the captain of guard standing next to him.

"Turlough, who is that man walking with King Delthar?" The King of the Fey asked his cousin. "It cannot be! Dear Gods, what did I do in a past life to deserve this?" Manann ran a hectic hand through his wind-tousled hair. "What is Eisloh'n doing here? What do I tell the Duke of Eisloh'n when he asks about his bloody son? The missive I sent could not have reached him yet."
"He is cousin to his King, as I am to you. Tell him simply that the Viscount was banished for his ‘naughty behavior’."

Manann heaved a sigh, knowing that it would not be as easy as that. It is never as easy as that. The two elves slowly approached, talking amongst themselves. Manann called out a greeting, "King Delthar, Noltelon of Eisloh'n, I welcome you to my home."

"Hail and greetings, Manann of Maicair Caylus. I salute you!" Delthar tugged a thick black braid that hung from his beard in greeting. Bells were woven into the braid and tinkled merrily. He gestured widely with his arm, clothed in a green velvet and sapphire tie-on sleeve. "It has been many years since I have seen such numbers of trees. I shall enjoy hunting in your forest."

The sleeves were tied to a spring green doublet covered in a knotwork design of sapphires and sheer black fabric of his shirt poked out between slashes in the sleeves. Dark green hose encased his legs, and boots of black leather covered his feet and shins.

"You will not find game lacking. There are deer and fowl aplenty." Manann smiled. "We shall hunt on the morrow!"

All the men, with the exception of Ruadhan and Niall cheered. Ruadhan did not enjoy chasing animals though the forest. He saw it as being cruel, when there was a party of hunters after a single animal. Niall ate no meat but the flesh of fish. Not joining the hunt just gave him a reason to spend more time with his beloved wife.

Ruadhan would have to find his own entertainment.

Manann bowed and turned around, leading the visiting royalty and nobility, Aibell, Sorja, Niall and Ruadhan back into Ahes Belhafei, and to the beginning of the first day of the Feast of Ages.

---

Thank you for reading! If you’d like more of the story, help yourself to the rest of the posted chapters:

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve