Page 42 of The Night Prince 3
He had imagined them going to every tea shop in Tyrael and talking together–just the two of them–over steaming cups of fragrant tea. Or, perhaps more like him talking. Or, better yet, him reading aloud stories to Declan. The young man was not a talker. Certainly not smalltalk. He couldn’t imagine Declan uttering a word about the weather or how to harvest cabbages. No, when Declan spoke it was to say things from his heart. And those were few and far between like they should be. Yet when he spoke them… oh, when he did…
But there would be no readings. There would be no tempting Declan with sweets. Or convincing him to go to the lake and bathe. Or sharing a bottle of wine under the stars while people sang.
No.
Declan would be gone. Declan would be here. Or rather, somewhere much deeper, in the Under Dark where Vex kept his newest capital city. Ruling beside his father. Learning the dark and dangerous ways of the Kindreth. Forgetting about the Sun and all the foolishness of carrying books for Aquilan.
Foolish to want! And selfish of me!
He shook himself. If Declan was the Night Prince then he had duties to the Kindreth and his father. The rest of his family too. For some reason, he thought of Rhalyf then. How miserable his best friend had appeared as if he were dragging an anchor and chains as he moved in the Pedway. He’d always suspected that his best friend had left his family for reasons that those in court would be too interested in smearing him with.
They whisper he has Kindreth blood because he is too powerful. I even considered this fact to be possibly true, Aquilan thought. No, I must be completely honest here. No more hypocrisy from me! I believed them to be true. He nodded. That is why I ask him about Kindreth society. Questions that no Sun Elf from ‘polite society’ would ever know the answers to. But someone like Rhalyf who is smart and doesn’t just let the surface tales stand would. Yet also because they might be part of his family history. Things that were imparted to him as more than lore, but knowledge. Is that what troubles him? Or has he realized that if Declan is the Night Prince, he will be taken from me?
There was more there, he was sure. He would get to the bottom of it when he was with Rhalyf again and they were back in Tyrael. He would soothe whatever fears Rhalyf had and his best friend would laugh that he had been worried in the least bit.
But I must find him again. Him, Declan and all the rest of them and then we must get back into the light.
He took stock of where he was even as his heart hammered in his chest. Though an incredibly powerful Mage, his ultimate power came from the Sun. The Under Dark was the one true place where he was cut off from it and he felt exposed.
And it was dark where he was. Very dark.
He was standing on the tip of a rocky peninsula that thrust out into a midnight black lake. Across that lake was a glowing jewel. A city. It caused Aquilan’s mouth to drop open with wonder.
Illithor…
Those early years which he had spent reading of Vex had, of course, contained many descriptions of the Kindreth capital city. One of the greatest wonders of the universe. And there it was with its soaring purple towers, its golden domes that rose like floating balloons, and the pyramids that both sprawled and thrust towards the heavens. Except they weren’t heavens though they appeared awfully far up and lights twinkled up there like stars. A massive cavern housed Illithor and what glowed above was likely lichen or some other luminescent plant.
Gods, if Darcassan sees this, he will want to plunder it. I hope Elasha is with him or, better yet, Rhalyf. Though he was too rough with my nephew, he will stop him from making a terrible mistake.
Aquilan took a half step towards the lake as if he might simply jump over the half a mile of water to the opposite shore and wander amongst Illithor’s splendors. And part of him considered doing this. Why stay on this dark, jutting rock and not go to where everything was bright? The light called to him. And wouldn’t the others make their way to the city? Yes, it was the shining beacon in the dark. He just had to make it over there.
But there was a sound.
A soft, slithery sound.
From behind him.
Aquilan spun around. His heart in his throat. His hands were limned with gold. But there was no Leviathan there. Not creeping up on him. No coils at his feet. But he saw something that reflected the light of his magic. A thin, silvery gray thread. Like a strand of spider silk except it was too thick to come from any normal-sized spider. He formed a light wisp and let it drift towards the thread. More threads appeared, all criss-crossing one another. As the wisp drifted forwards and upwards, the threads grew so thick as to form solid walls that kept going and going and going…
It was then that he knew what he was seeing even though he’d never encountered one so big before. Never thought that they could get this big. A chill spiraled through him as the wisp continued to drift in the currents of the cavern, showing more and more and more threads.
A Leviathan nest.
Family Ties
Rhalyf stared at Aquilan’s vanishing form as the Sun King stepped through the rift. His chest was tight. His head throbbed. His body ached. It was as if he was physically keeping the secret and it was hurting every cell inside of him.
Going to Illithor had been a childhood dream and an adult fancy. Finding the fabled city. Taking its secrets–or at least some of them–for his own. Showing his parents and sister that he, not them, was the best Mage in the family. More talented. More daring. More everything that mattered.
His sister–Haera–had spoken of Illithor and the magic it contained as if it were a drug and she was the deepest addict. Oh, how he had imagined her face when he presented some trinket from a locked treasury room that she would know was from Illithor! Her jealousy would have been delicious! But her knowledge that he had succeeded where she had failed would have been priceless.
He had envisioned his mother–Vex’s sister no less–nodding in approval at him for once. He would be the favorite, not Haera. His father would have narrowed his eyes, said nothing, and gone back to his scrolls. But he did that with everyone. It wasn’t personal. No, it was his sister and mother’s regard that had mattered. And now?
The last place I wish to go is Illithor. It truly is a poisoned chalice.
Yet Aquilan had gone through after Declan who had gone through after Finley. So he must go too. There was no getting around it.
Finley.
