Source Of The River Read online

  Source of the River

  Tales from Nōl’Deron

  Lana Axe

  Text copyright © 2014 Lana Axe

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover art by Michael Gauss

  For Laura.

  “Water is the softest thing, yet it can

  penetrate mountains and earth.

  This shows clearly the principle of

  softness overcoming hardness.”

  ~Lao Tzu

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  About the Author

  Prologue

  As he stood knee-deep in the water, Ryllak looked upon the lifeless form of his love. Her expression was serene, appearing as if she only slept. Fighting back tears, he reached out to touch her face. Before he could make contact with her skin, her body began to fade, disappearing within the blue of the river. No longer able to suppress the grief in his heart, Ryllak buried his face in his hands and wept. Yillmara, my love, my all. How shall I go on without you?

  As he wept, his hatred rose for the one who had taken her life. “Curse you, treacherous creature!” he cried, staring into the water. “Show yourself before me!”

  At his command, the Spirit of the river immediately seized Ryllak within a sphere of blue light. Stunned, Ryllak’s body went rigid as he braced himself against an anticipated attack. No such attack occurred, though. Instead, Ryllak saw a vision of Yillmara in his mind, her blue eyes sparkling and full of life.

  “Yillmara,” he whispered.

  It was not her voice but another who replied, filling his mind with these words: Your life-mate has chosen this path. She has traded her life for that of her child.

  “Curse you for making such a trade. You are a creature of evil.”

  I have granted a life as was asked of me.

  Ryllak’s mind thought back to the stillborn child his life-mate had brought to the river. She had desired nothing more from life than to be a mother, and her heart had been broken by the news that her child did not live. In his grief for Yillmara, Ryllak had not even looked upon their child, the child who Yillmara had died to save.

  The Spirit spoke no more, and Ryllak was released from the blue light. Tears still fresh upon his cheeks, he returned slowly to the riverbank. Glancing once over his shoulder in hopes of seeing his love, he beheld only the reflection of the early-morning light as it danced upon the water. His heart heavy, he proceeded back to his home.

  Once inside, he saw his son in the arms of a nursemaid. Silently, he stared for a moment, trying to gather his courage. This child had cost him his life-mate, but he felt no animosity toward him. This tiny creature had not asked to be born, and he would have brought immense joy into Yillmara’s life.

  Slowly, he approached the nurse and stretched out his arms to take the child. With a soft smile, the nurse handed the child to his father.

  “He’s a beautiful boy,” she stated, her face beaming.

  Ryllak looked down upon the child and into his sapphire-blue eyes. The child did not cry nor make any other sound. Although he was too tiny to speak, the child’s expression seemed to be telling Ryllak that all would be well. Tears filled Ryllak’s eyes as he clutched his newborn son to his heart and kissed his forehead.

  “I am your father, and I will love you until the world has come to an end,” he declared.

  The baby cooed softly, resting peacefully in his father’s arms. The Spirit of the river had granted his life, and much would be expected in return.

  Chapter 1

  Ryllak paced impatiently as he waited for his son to return home. The grass in front of the large silver tree was beginning to show signs of wear as he quickly stepped back and forth. After a while, he stopped pacing and leaned his back against the tree. The spring air was cool, and the afternoon sun hid its face behind a thin layer of clouds. He could not, however, enjoy the fine weather. He feared his nerves might get the better of him when he finally told his son the truth.

  Finally, River appeared in the distance carrying a small stack of books beneath one arm. His cousin and closest friend, Galen, accompanied him. Ryllak watched and waited as the young elves made their way across the village. They were both tall and slender with long dark hair, and might have been mistaken for brothers had it not been for River’s sapphire-blue eyes. Those eyes singled him out every time as someone special among the Westerling Elves. Blue eyes were not rare, but River’s particular sapphire hue had never been seen before in the Vale.

  As the two approached, Ryllak stood up straight and crossed his arms. His face was stern, and his brown eyes stared intently at his son.

  “Is everything all right?” River asked, noticing his father’s serious demeanor.

  “We need to speak,” Ryllak replied.

  “I think it’s time for me to go,” Galen said. He gave River a slight shrug and raised his eyebrows as he turned to walk away. “Good luck, River,” he added quietly.

  River followed his father inside the arched doorway of the silver tree. Inside was a spacious home that was impossibly larger than the tree that held it. The magic of the forest supplied homes to the elves that did not require damaging any of the trees. The elves and the woods lived in harmony, each gladly accommodating the other.

  “Sit down, Son,” Ryllak said.

  He took a seat on the cushioned bench of the great room and patted the seat next to him. River sat, but Ryllak remained silent. He stared out the window overlooking the gardens, lost in thought. Finally he realized he could delay no longer.

  “Son,” he began, “in two days’ time, you will be two hundred years old, and you will come of age. You will no longer be considered a child to us, and you must take your place among our people.”

  River’s eyes darted around the room as he searched his mind for a response. He knew he was coming of age and would be expected to take on adult responsibilities. He hoped to leave his father’s home and begin his own life, but deciding what to do with a life of thousands of years was no easy task for a young elf. Failing to find the right words, he remained silent.

  Ryllak sighed deeply and said, “I have told you of your mother and how she died in childbirth, but there are other things I haven’t told you.”

  River, who had been staring at the floor, looked up at his father and stared into his eyes. He could tell what his father was about to say was serious, and it was difficult for him to say it.

  “What i
s it, Father?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

  Ryllak looked away from his son and said, “Your mother was taken by the river. You were stillborn, and she traded her life for yours.”

  River was stunned by this news. Stumbling in his words, he asked, “How? How is such a thing possible?”

  Ryllak cleared his throat and replied, “The Spirit of the river granted your life. We tried for many years to start a family, but we never had any success until Yillmara prayed to the river for a child. That is when you came to us, and the Spirit took her away.”

  River’s eyes filled with tears for his mother, who had given up everything for him. Her selfless love overwhelmed him, and he was unsure how he should react. He had heard many stories of her and her sweet nature, and he regretted not having the chance to know her. His father had always been good to him, but not having a mother to turn to had been difficult.

  “I do not know the Spirit who dwells in the river,” Ryllak said. “It has always been there, and it protects our people. I believe its intentions are good, and Yillmara was most willing to trade her life for yours. Do not feel guilty that you are here and she is not. She loved you more than words can describe.”

  “But the Spirit killed her,” River replied. “Surely that was unnecessary.”

  “It takes a Spirit of immense magical power to create a life. To grant an elven life, it must have another life freely given. That is the only way to maintain balance.”

  “Then I owe my life to this Spirit,” River commented.

  “In more ways than one,” Ryllak said. “Your mother became pregnant immediately after praying to the river. I have loved you and raised you as my own, but I believe the Spirit is your true father.”

  A look of realization spread over River’s face. All his life he had felt compelled to visit the Blue River and stand at the base of the waterfall. He would stare into the flowing current for hours and release his mind from all thoughts but water. As he neared his coming of age, the compulsion had grown stronger. He had visited the river daily for the past few years and felt an unknown presence around him.

  “This is why the Elders have always looked at me strangely,” he said. “I thought I was imagining it, but they already knew all of this. They knew I was not an ordinary elf. I’m some sort of magical hybrid. What am I, Father?” He stared at his father hoping for an answer.

  After a few silent moments, Ryllak said, “You must ask that question of the Spirit. Perhaps you will find the answers you seek within the river.”

  River sat motionless for a while. The younger elves had always treated him as one of their own. All of his life he had excelled at water magic, and he had simply considered himself talented. All elves were born with magical abilities, but his heightened abilities would now be attributed to his origin as a creature of magic. He had no desire to be different from the other elves, but it seemed he had little choice in the matter.

  The Elders had always seemed suspicious of him throughout the course of his magical studies. He had felt singled out from his fellow students on many occasions. Frequently, his professors would require him to explain exactly how he had performed a task as simple as watering an herb garden. No one else was ever required to explain himself, but he had been questioned and interviewed by members of the Elder Council several times. Once, during a heavy rain, he was asked to stand beneath the drops and count them. At the time he thought it was some sort of punishment, but he had broken no rules. Now it was beginning to make sense.

  After a while, he decided to pay the river a visit. He saw no harm in it and hoped he might find some answers there. As he walked through the village, he glanced around, wondering if anyone saw him differently. Of course they had not been present to hear his father’s words, but he could not help thinking that everyone would know the truth of his birth.

  As he reached the bank, he removed his shoes and waded down into the water. It was cool, and a soft breeze wafted gently across its surface. The smooth rocks along the bottom provided a finely crafted natural floor. He made his way toward the waterfall, where the river tumbles down from its source in the mountains. The sound of the roaring water drowned all the noise of the village and the sounds of the forest.

  Standing in front of the rushing water, he gazed into the foam, which floated lazily away from the falls. The sights and sounds of the water had a hypnotic effect on him, and his mind began to drift. He entered a state of calmness and surrendered his mind to the river.

  A blue, swirling mist formed around his waist. The light grew larger until he was completely encompassed by a wave of blue magic. He welcomed the sensation, closing his eyes and lifting his arms above his head. The Spirit had come. River could hear its voice within his mind.

  Child of the river, your spirit has awakened. Within you dwells the soul of the water, your true form. This blessing I have given you, and in time, you must return it. Each day you will visit here at dawn, and I will show you your path and lead you on your journey.

  Who are you? River projected with his mind.

  I am the Spirit, the Soul, and the Heart.

  With those words, the voice went silent, and the blue magic faded away. As he turned to face the village, he noticed that many of the Vale’s citizens had gathered at the bank to see what was happening. His father was among them.

  Slowly, he made his way back to the bank. As he stepped onto the sand, his long hair, which was previously dripping with water, became immediately dry. His long gray robe was dry as well. A few of the elves stepped away from him, some of them gasping.

  His father strode forward and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, guiding him away from the bank. He led him back to their home and asked, “Did you find what you needed?”

  “I think so,” River replied. “There are many things I need to learn. The Spirit in the water is going to teach me.”

  Ryllak nodded and patted his son’s shoulder. He knew River would change when he came of age, but he had no idea how much. A bright future awaited him, that much was certain. He would be there to help in any way a father could.

  Chapter 2

  River awoke before sunrise, and his mind was troubled. Though it had been more than a month since his father informed him of his true paternity, he could still remember every detail. The revelation had changed his outlook on life, and he was determined to live up to the destiny he had been given.

  He still regretted never knowing his mother, and he wished he could speak with her at least once. On several occasions, he had asked the Spirit if such a thing were possible. The Spirit always responded vaguely, and River was never sure how to interpret the response. A few times, River thought he had seen his mother’s face amid the waters. It was only ever a glimpse, and he was never certain of what he saw.

  He rose from his bed and proceeded toward the riverbank. As always, the first thing he did in the morning was visit the Spirit and bathe in the waters of the river. He would offer his life back to the Spirit who had given it, submitting himself to its will.

  The Spirit had taught him many things over the past few weeks, and River had resolved to make himself useful to the elves of the Vale. Some of their distrust and uneasiness had disappeared as he was growing up, but some of the Elders still had their concerns. Creatures of magic were not fully understood by the Westerling Elves, but they were generally accepted as long as they were good-natured. The magical creatures of malevolent design were kept at bay by the magic of the forest. Their kind were not welcome in the Vale, and no elf sought them out.

  River was of an unknown magical design. Though the River Spirit had never caused harm to any other elf in the Vale, Yillmara’s death had made them all uneasy. What had once been a helpful and pleasant creature was now suspected of murder. That suspicion did not easily leave the Elders’ minds. Their reservations about River and the water spirit within him seemed justified. Any creature who could command such power over life and death deserved to be monitored closely.

  Riv
er himself had a good heart, and his only desire was to be of help to his kinsmen. Recently he had used his newfound powers to bring rain as needed and ensure the safety of the Vale by placing magical barriers at its borders. No one with evil intent could ever cross the river to enter the Vale as long as River lived.

  The air outside was fresh and cool, the birds sang merrily overhead. A gentle breeze caressed his skin as he removed his silver robe and entered the cool water of the Blue River. His dark hair trailed freely behind him, floating at the water’s surface as he swam to the base of the waterfall. Nearly five hundred feet in height, the waterfall deposited the remains of snow melting high up in the Wrathful Mountains. At its base were large charcoal-gray boulders, which were suitable for sitting and spending a peaceful afternoon. Near these boulders, River would commune with the Spirit and seek its guidance.

  The water was surprisingly warm, considering its source. Weather in the Vale brought a permanence of springtime for the Westerling Elves to enjoy. There were still rainy days to contend with, but the rains brought new life to the forests and provided sustenance for the creatures within.

  As River reached the base of the waterfall, an uneasy feeling came over him. He tried his best to shake off the feeling and concentrate, but he found it impossible to focus his mind. Taking a few deep breaths, he proceeded to wash himself in the clear blue waters. After a few moments, he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. High overhead, an object was falling from the top of the waterfall. River stared at the object, his mouth dropping open. Within a few seconds, it hit the water, crashing violently below the surface.

  Glancing overhead to be sure a second item wouldn’t follow the first, River moved toward the fallen object. As he moved closer, he could plainly see that this was not some random bit of debris. A dwarf had fallen to his death from somewhere in the mountains.

  Nervously, River approached the dwarf and looked down on his lifeless form. Placing a hand at the side of the dwarf’s neck, River could feel no trace of a pulse. The dwarf’s face was pale, suggesting he may have been dead before the fall. There were no obvious bruises or cuts on his skin, which seemed strange considering the route the body had traveled to reach the Vale.