SciFi and Fantasy Stories: New Life from Ashes: Teldrelie's Story

Crellian rubbed his hands together, trying to drive away the chill. Though it was frosty outside, he wasn’t prepared to return to his cousin’s keep and deal with her again. He wrinkled his nose at the thought. At least she’d learned to keep to civilities since his last visit. The elf had never cared much for his cousin’s forward manner and overly-familiar ways. They didn’t know each other, and he hated it when she acted like they did. They were blood-relatives, nothing more.

He looked to the sky and smiled as the stars began to show their face in response to the sun’s fading. The elf took a deep, calming breath to melt away the worries and the stress that had built up during his trek and subsequent stay in the north. Oh mother, he thought to himself with a shake of his head. I don’t know why you insist on sending me here every year. Neither Elryn nor Grantene have sense enough to bother with the other’s fortunes. Though he knew it was a wicked, heartless thought, he couldn’t help but yearn for the day his mother finally died. It would make his life so much easier. His little sister, Elryn, had no interest in him, and as such, she wouldn’t insist on orchestrating every detail of his life as their mother did.

Crellian turned towards an out-of-place noise that fell on his ears. He narrowed his eyes, searching the shadows near the high wall for the source. The elf wove his way through the shriveling vegetables and withering flowers.

Stars and sun! he swore to himself as he dropped down next to the unfortunate creature chained to the wall. Crellian reached out to brush the matted, gray hair out of the elf-boy’s face. The mouth hung open in disregard, and his eyes were rolled back behind half-opened lids.

The southern elf shook his head in disbelief and horror at the child’s state. The boy was breathing, but that was shallow and lacked steady rhythm. How long had he been out there? Why was he there?

Crellian locked his jaw as anger replaced his shock. The boy wore the same marking neck-band that all his cousin’s slaves wore. A dented metal tray sat near-by covered with half-rotting food. The only water within reach was what filled a muddy trench near the wall.

He shook his head as he drew his mantle from his shoulders. The excuse Grantene was sure to offer had better be a good one.

The elf stood, unable to put off facing his cousin any longer. He might have been able to avoid her for the night if not for the wretched child. Crellian stood and strode towards the manor, ignoring the hapless plants in his path.

“Grantene,” he started, forcing his voice to throw off the natural menace that attempted to lodge there. “I would speak with you.”

“Oh, hello, cousin,” she greeted with a silly grin, though she kept her attention on her strategy game with her equally ridiculous entourage. “I’d feared you’d escaped to your chambers for then night.”

Crellian forced a smile. “No, not tonight,” he answered. “I was walking the gardens to clear my mind.”

“Ah yes,” Grantene commented. “I seem to remember you frequent my gardens.”

“Yes.” He sat in silence, trying to come up with the most appropriate way to broach his subject. Regardless of her lack of attention to ceremony, when he angered her, she had no problems calling upon it to silence him.

“Grantene,” he began, “I noticed some things have changed since I was here last.”

“Indeed?” she giggled. “Like what? Fishtail!”

He drew back until he realized that the very last of her words was directed at her gaming partners. Crellian fought to keep from sneering at the frivolous she-elf as she collected a great number of the playing pieces. How could one with a mind as trivial as hers win at such a game?

“The thing that struck me most is the boy.”

“Boy?” she repeated turning to him with confusion in her eyes. She didn’t remember a boy… “Oh!” She laughed at herself and shook her head. “Yes, I guess there is a boy out there now, isn’t there?” Her mood and face turned dark as she turned back to her game. “Worthless whelp, that one.”

“Is he then?” Crellian commented. “May I ask why he’s here?”

Grantene turned back to him, bored with the game now that she’d won. She sat back and waved her large hand-fan—not because she was warm, but because it was something well-moneyed she-elves did. “My steward found him some years ago. Upon talking with him, we found out that his mother was also a pale-elf. I figured that she’d abandoned him. Since he was without family or abilities to speak of, I let him become a part of my household.”

She sighed to herself and rolled her eyes. “I thought he’d be a wise investment since he was young and could grow to be strong and well-trained. He started off well, but eventually it turned out that I couldn’t control him at all, even through punishing him. He is a willful, rebellious imp. The brat even tries to run away! It seems a hopeless cause.”

Crellian bit the side of his mouth to keep from exploding in anger at her careless words. Well-trained? The boy was a living being. How could she carry such disregard for him? No wonder he refused to be docile.

“Cousin,” he started when he had adequate control of himself. “Does he have a name?”

Grantene pressed her lips together and raised her eyes in thought. “You know, he must… I can’t be troubled with remembering the names of naughty slaves though.”

“Why is he there now?”

“Well, since he was no good for anything else, and since I can’t just leave him to roam free, he frightens away the pests that would harass my garden.” She laughed at the thought. “He’s the best scarecrow I’ve ever had. He doesn’t even need to move around to frighten them. The beasts fear his presence alone!”

Crellian internalized her words searching for the meaning. In the child’s company he had felt something dark and frightening that might drive the animals away. He swallowed hard. Anything mistreated as that poor child had been would command a harsh presence.

“When he became rebellious, why did you not sell him?”

She snorted and rolled her eyes at his stupid question. “Oh, Crell,” she started. “No one will buy a wayward slave.”

The elf’s skin prickled at her informal address. “My mother calls me Crellian,” he reminded. She was lucky he didn’t insist that she call him Master Ilnk and that he called her Grantene as she requested.

The she-elf laughed and shook her head. “My apologies, Cousin Crellian,” she offered. “I forget how much you cling to formalities.”

He nodded. “Do you realize he is not well?”

“Really?” she asked, looking to the ceiling. “I thought I had someone check on him the other day…”

“Would you consider selling this slave?” Crellian couldn’t help the words that blurted from his mouth. He didn’t want to own a slave, because he knew that once he bought a slave, his mother would never let him offer freedom. His own honor would never let him sell, because he’d never found any slave-owners who treated their slaves with any form of dignity. What am I getting into?

Grantene looked at him as if she were looking at a senseless child. “Did you not hear me say that he is wayward and rebellious? Your soft spirit could never control such a child.”

“I heard,” Crellian acknowledged, refusing to let her backhanded insult upset him. Just because he wasn’t brutal didn’t mean he was weak. His methods simply differed from hers. “I would still purchase him from you if you would sell. In my estimation he will be dead in three sun’s time. I offer a profit for his loss.”

The young she-elf grinned at him and chuckled. “Cousin, you are a strange one. If you want to buy a dying slave, I have no reason to withhold the brute. What do you offer?”

Crellian felt far out of his league. He’d never paid much attention to the details of slave-trade, because he’d had no intention of ever entering the disgusting traffic. The elf licked his lips in thought and looked up. “Two hundred silver…?”

Grantene exploded in laughed. “Oh, cousin, it is good your sister was born. I imagine you’d ruin your house before long. I’m sorry; I cannot let you give me such a ridiculous sum for such a worthless creature.”

He clenched his jaw in the face of her deriding laughter.

“Crellian, if I took that, I would anger the stars for taking advantage of a foolish family member. I will take twenty-five for him.”

The elf nodded. “I thank you, Cousin Grantene,” he offered as he stood. He reached for his money pouch and produced the sum she’d asked for. So he really had offered a ridiculous sum… Oh well. He would have been willing to pay more for the child’s life.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he started. “I have to see about improving his health.”

“Good luck, cousin,” she called after him with a laugh. “You’re going to need it!”

The world came back into focus a little bit at a time. First came the sounds—strange sounds. He couldn’t recognize most of them. Voices floated near-by, muffled and low. In the distance a steady beat patted away, with which a tight creaking harmonized.

After the sounds, physical sensations registered. Something soft pressed all around him. Though he couldn’t remember what he’d felt last, something told him it this was different—especially the way that he felt like he was moving, though he knew he was laying on his back.

His eyes opened and a blurry version of his world filtered through sore eyes. The surroundings were dim and jostled every now and then.

“Welcome, boy. I am glad that you’ve woken.”

He tilted his throbbing head to observe this voice that spoke of welcome. His eyes battled for a clear image, but every time he grew close, everything would blur again.

“I’m Crellian,” the voice continued. “What name do you carry?”

He sighed, pressing back into the softness around him. His eyes dropped closed again. “I’m… Teldrelïe.”

“Well met, Teldrelïe,” Crellian crooned. “Rest now.”

Teldrelïe lay staring up into the darkness that surrounded him. His anger boiled and his heart twisted in his chest. So he’d been sold. That wretched she-elf had sold him before letting him die. He wished he could wrap his hands around her neck…

Now was not the time for that. Apparently, his new owner was a fool. The elf had left him unbound in the back of an unlocked traveling-coach that wasn’t guarded. This escape would be his easiest yet. The boy forced his weak and sore body from the soft bed—the first he’d slept in since his mother abandoned him.

Teldrelïe locked his jaw at the bitter memory. He didn’t have time for his acidic anger right then. The escape had to come first, and it required all the focus he had since his strength was limited.

The elfin child slipped from the small door in the back and cast his sights around the immediate surroundings. There was no one about to notice him slipping away. Perfect.

The eastern sky began to glow a faint pink as the sun began to come up. The pale boy limped along beside the road as fast as his little legs would carry him. He cursed the tears in his eyes as well as the pain in his legs. There were curses for his mistress and curses for the biting chains and curses for the wretched animals that dared to creep near. The greatest curse of all, however, was for the stars. They let this happen to him. They sent him to that world, to parents—a mother—who didn’t love. They hadn’t been there to protect and guide him.

The young elf stopped to lean against a knobby tree that stood near the road-side. He rested his arm against the tree and bent in half, trying to catch his missing breath. How long had he been chained to that wall anyway? Of course he’d lost count…

“Lookit what we got here, boys.”

Teldrelïe’s head snapped up as fear gripped his heart. His pale eyes sprung open as he observed the elves milling in the roadway.

“It looks like a white-rat lost his way,” one of the shorter ones commented with a mean laugh.

“I don’t know,” another spoke up. “Look at his ankles and wrists. I think he’s a slave—we should leave him alone.”

“Quit your belly-aching,” the tallest growled, administering a hard shove to the one who objected. “If he is a slave—he’s a run-away. If he ain’t, then there’s no problem.”

The menacing glint in the elf’s eye made the slave’s heart bottom out. He’d always known when he’d faced real trouble, and now he knew he’d stepped right in it. Rebelling against over-seers and owners was one thing—all of which came with known consequences. Teldrelïe didn’t know what would happen at the hands of rough strangers; he simply knew it was bad.

“I’ll give you a head-start, kid,” the first growled as a cruel smile spread over his lips. “You start running, and I’ll start counting. When I get to fifty, I’m letting the dogs go.”

“Wha…?” Teldrelïe’s eyes locked on the shaggy hounds lashed to cords the elf gripped in his meaty fist.

“He’s already counting, kid,” one of the others informed. “You’d better start.”

The slave didn’t need to be told twice. His fear helped him forget the pain in his body and drove him on. His heart thundered in his head and his throat as he fought for greater speed. Yet it wouldn’t come. The harder he tried, the slower he felt like he moved.

It didn’t take long before his meager strength evaporated and he pressed forward at a slow limp on sheer willpower alone. Maybe if he could make it to the tree up ahead—he might find a way to climb it.

In the distance he heard the sound of doom… “Fifty!”

Following the horrible word came the baying of the elf’s hounds as they lit out after him.

No, Teldrelïe screamed in his head as tears filled his eyes. Not like this… Please, anyone… anything…

It was then that he realized he’d cut himself off. He’d cursed the stars, and even if they would have had any inclination to help him before, that hope had vanished. No entity stretched out for those who mistreated it. He knew as much. Just as elves would not show kindness to those who did not deserve it, neither would the stars.

Pain lanced up his back from his leg as the fastest hound’s teeth sank in. He sprawled to the ground amid the growls and the ferocious bitings of the monsters surrounding him. The boy curled in a ball, a futile motion meant to protect his body even though he knew it was a lost cause. He was going to die.

Teldrelïe perceived one of the dogs let out a short yelp of pain and then another immediately after. At the same time, he realized the dogs were no longer attacking him, though he felt a large presence near-by.

He peeked his bleeding face out from beneath his arms. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized the back of the elf who now owned him. The elf stood over him in a protective position, holding a large staff out as if daring the dogs to try anything more.

“Hail, stranger,” the leader of the group of elves called when he approached. “I hope you realize those’re my dogs you’ve injured.”

“Oh, I realize,” Crellian growled, rage flooding his veins as he beheld the slightly taller elf. “I realize you set them on a helpless child.”

“Don’t know why you’re whining,” the elf snarled. “I never said I wouldn’t pay the slave-price for the little brute. You’ll get your compensation for his worthless life. Let me finish my fun.”

“Wretch!” Crellian bellowed. “I will not accept the meager slave-price; his life is worth far more than that!”

“I told you we should have left him alone,” the smaller elf grumbled.

“Shut-up,” the first snarled at him. He turned back to Crellian and scowled. “How much more?”

“You attacked a member of the Ilnk Household. This boy’s life is worth far more than you’re pitiful brain can comprehend.” Crellian raised his hand and directed his palm at the leader of the idiot rabble. He narrowed his eyes and muttered the incantation under his breath.

Each of the men fell to their knees clutching their face, where a deep wound ripped open from their eyebrows to their chins. Crellian sneered as he looked down at them. “Be thankful he still breathes,” the elf called. “That is the only reason you still do.”

Crellian was glad the boy wasn’t much older, heavy, or taller than he was, else picking him up would have been a challenge. However, his cousin’s ill-treatment made the task bearable, and it took little time before Crellian had Teldrelïe scooped up in his arms to head back to Crellian’s little caravan.

The slave’s meager energy waned fast, and he found himself fighting to remain conscious. Part of him cried out in horror and despair. His master had come and was dragging him back. However, another part of him remembered the elf’s words. Did he mean all that? Why had he even stepped in? Taking a slave price for a disobedient, willful slave had been a good way out for him.

The boy glanced up and realized that his master wore far too much blood for it to all have come from him. “You—you’re bleeding,” he forced out.

“I am,” Crellian acknowledged. “Those dogs were vicious. I’m relieved they didn’t hurt you worse than they did.”

“You’re… relieved?”

“Of course,” Crellian answered as his mouth twitched upwards in a gentle smile. “You can’t think that I purchased you from my idiot-cousin only to regard you the same way she does?”

Teldrelïe had no answer for the elf’s words. He pinched his eyes shut as he warred with himself. It didn’t matter! The elf was still a slave-holder and still someone who would crush his future. There was no reason to obey or feel anything for the monster who’d bought him from his mistress… It didn’t matter.

“I know that we’ve got a long way to go before you trust me,” Crellian offered.

Teldrelïe opened his eyes to lock the bleary vision of the darker elf’s face. Why did he bother? What advantage was there to earning a slave’s trust? Physical or mental control was all that was needed.

“But I’m willing to take the time to earn it. I didn’t acquire you so that you would continue down the same miserable path. I bought you with the hope that I could find a way to improve your life. That’s all. And for a while at least, that’s going to have to mean that you hang around with me.”

“I…” Teldrelïe fell silent. His body didn’t want to allow the words his heart formed. “I understand. I won’t run from you again.”

Crellian smiled. So the first major battle was his. Excellent. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that.”

“Master Crellian…”

Crellian turned to look over his shoulder in surprise. He hadn’t expected that Teldrelïe would stir from his bed again for a day or two at least. However, the child stood on the step of the coach, leaning against the door’s threshold.

The elf leapt to his feet and hurried over to the boy. “What is it, Teldrelïe?” he asked, reaching out to help steady the boy. His gut twisted when the child’s reaction was a frightened flinch.

“I…” His words failed and he stood, staring up at the tall elf in mute confusion. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted or needed anymore.

“How about this,” Crellian started with a smile. “Come sit with us by the fire. If you come up with what drew you from your bed, we can talk about it then.”

Teldrelïe glanced at the other elves gathered around a small fire. At length he nodded and allowed his owner to steer him to the ring of cushions.

Crellian helped the weak child to the cushion to where he’d sat and motioned to the others. “Everyone this is Teldrelïe. Teldrelïe, this is Vaelt, Pekrin, and Ashev.”

Teldrelïe studied them all in turn. They were all dark like his master—with either black or dark brown hair, dark eyes, and skin the color of amber. The first was a frightening monster of an elf—well-muscled with a fierce countenance in his eyes and smile. Like his master, the elf’s black hair was cropped short. The second was an older-elf whose years were only marked by slight wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. While he didn’t exude danger like Vaelt, Teldrelïe felt the elf was strong enough to hold his own. The last elf was both slight and short. His ready smile welcomed and comforted with ease and without thought.

Teldrelïe glanced at his master and realized that the elf sported a wound down his face just like he’d imparted on the strangers from earlier. “Master… why does your face… I mean…?” The boy grew silent and dropped his head in his confusion and embarrassment.

Crellian smiled as he sat down beside the newest member of his group. “I don’t have the abilities to use destructive encantor spells without a weaker version setting on me as well. Not to worry though,” he cheered with a smile. “My wound will fade within a week—not even a scar. Those curs will always carry that wound.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

The elf glanced at the huddled boy and sighed. “What they did was wrong. They deserved what I gave them and worse. This was a small price to pay for them to wear an eternal reminder. Like I told them, you’re a member of my household now. I protect my own.”

“Well, don’t you just sound all noble and true,” Ashev laughed, jabbing at his lord.

“And when has he shown himself to be anything else?” Vaelt growled with a smile. “You should be glad he means what he says or I would have run you through a long time ago.”

“You wound me,” the young elf laughed, unafraid of the unmeant threat.

Teldrelïe listened to their banter and absorbed their words. It was difficult for him to comprehend what he felt and what he observed. They all seemed kind and fair. Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“Teldrelïe, come here.”

Teldrelïe looked up from his primer and dropped it to rush to his master’s side. Whenever he thought of what he’d once been, he had a hard time believing just how much he’d changed in the short weeks of traveling with his new master. Where he’d once been hateful and rebellious, he found himself living in gratitude and obedience. The only reason for this was Crellian.

“Yes, Master Crellian?” he squeaked as he lurched to a stop beside the taller elf.

Crellian grinned as he looked down at the boy. He raised his hand, ignoring the boy’s involuntary wince, and tousled the child’s hair. He was pleased to see that the child’s had allowed the hair to begin growing again and now it was glossy and smooth. “I told you that you don’t have to call me that.”

Teldrelïe smiled and looked up from beneath the large hand. “I’m sorry, Master Crellian. I forget.” He wondered what drove such a heart-broken glint into his master’s eyes. “Is something wrong?”

Crellian smiled a little and shook his head. “Not really. I just have to tell you some things about what it’s going to be like when we arrive.”

“Oh…” That was something that the boy had feared for some time now.

“First of all, even though I am not the head of the Ilnk household, you are my slave—that means that neither my mother nor my sister have any power over you. Do you understand?”

His heart twisted when he heard the words affirming that he belonged to Crellian. His master was kind, and he’d promised to never run from him, but still hearing the words made him cry out inside. “I understand,” he murmured.

Crellian sighed. “I promise I will do my best to avoid referring to you as such in the future.”

Teldrelïe looked up and swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

The elf nodded and continued, “My mother is not kind. She will not treat you well. However, like I said, she will have no power to outright abuse you. My sister is absent-minded and cares only for herself. While that means she will ignore you for the most part, if she wants something from you—well, let’s just say that you don’t want her to ever want something from you. The rest of the household… For now, I will tell you that the only ones you can trust are Ashev, Vaelt, and Pekrin.”

Teldrelïe felt a shiver run up and down his spine at his master’s words. While he’d gained a gentle master, it didn’t sound like his life was going to improve much.

Crellian chuckled a little and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Teldrelïe. I just want you to remember to be aware of what’s going on around you. For the most part, I’m going to have you stick pretty close to me—in the beginning at least. Nothing will happen when I’m around. I promise.”

Teldrelïe’s fear evaporated. He wanted to object that he hadn’t been frightened, but they would both see that for the lie it was. At least Crellian promised to look out for him.

“You should know one other thing…”

“What’s that?”

“In the presence of my mother and my sister, you may find that you do not like some of what I must say. Things may not always sound true to your ears. I ask only that you remember these weeks of travel and realize that you have already seen the true me.”

Teldrelïe swallowed and nodded. “I understand.”

Crellian dropped to knee before his mother, planting his opposite fist on the ground as he greeted her with head bowed. “Stars sing, mother,” he addressed her.

The elegant she-elf looked down at her son with cool eyes and a pinched mouth. “Welcome home, Crellian,” she acknowledged. “How do you find your cousin these days?”

The elf looked up, but remained on his knee before her. “She remains unmindful of Elryn money and lands. She is too taken with her own.”

Seltte nodded as a fierce smile covered her lips. “Stand, my son,” she invited as she turned away from him. “You have something else to tell me, I see.”

Crellian glanced back at Teldrelïe and offered the boy a smile. He’d noticed that the slave had drawn close to Vaelt’s mountain of strength in his anxiety.

“Yes,” he spoke as he stood. “I do. It turns out that Grantene had a rather valuable slave she was unaware was valuable. I relieved her of that embarrassment.”

“Tell me his worth.”

“The slave reads and writes. He his good with numbers and I have observed a nimble spirit and a quick wit. I think that he will be an asset to my work.”

She turned back to him and frowned. “So you have not brought a gift for your mother?”

“I brought offerings,” he denied.

Seltte descended the stairs and approached her son’s new slave. She looked down at the boy and smiled as she reached out to pet his hair. “He is pretty, Crellian,” she observed. “Surely you wish to please your mother with a pretty gift. He would be useful as a bath attendant.”

Teldrelïe started to shake. He’d promised to obey Crellian. What if Crellian said he had to go with this she-elf? After all, he had been warned that Crellian wouldn’t act the same in front of his mother.

“I’m sorry, mother,” Crellian’s voice broke the heavy silence. “I’ve grown fond of the child, and he serves my needs well. I will find you a different pretty gift.”

The matriarch turned to glare at her son. She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “I hope that when you say ‘fond’ you mean that he satisfies your desires and that you never intend to free the whelp. I would be greatly dismayed if such spineless actions belonged to a member of my house.”

Crellian laughed and shook his head. “Mother, those days have passed. I have no desire to free this boy. As I said, I’ve grown fond of him.”

“I suppose it can’t be helped then,” she sighed and turned away from her son. She looked down on the boy and smiled again. “Do let me know if you grow bored of him.”

“I will.”

Crellian sighed and shook his head. He looked up and offered a tired smile for the anxious boy. “Come on, Teldrelïe,” he called.

“My lord…”

Both Teldrelïe and Crellian looked to Pekrin. Teldrelïe raised his eyebrows. In the weeks of travel, none of the three retainers had addressed Crellian with such formality. It did make sense, though. If Crellian had to behave differently, no doubt they would too.

“Will you need my services tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Crellian answered. “I will need all three of you as early as you can get here. Goodnight.”

The three bowed to their master and turned on their heels to disappear back towards the massive courtyard where they’d arrived at. Teldrelïe shook his head in awe. Everything was so different!

“Come,” Crellian encouraged, dropping his arm around the boy’s shoulders to guide him along.

By the time the two stopped walking, the boy was thoroughly confused. Every elegant hall looked like the next with nothing to mark the differences. The stairs were all the same and there were few differences between the rooms he happened to glance inside.

Crellian shoved aside the large wooden door and motioned for Teldrelïe to follow along behind him. The boy let his eyes wander in awe as he observed the room. While it wasn’t as fine as some of the rooms he’d seen at his first mistress’ home, it was by far in better taste. It also carried a feeling of comfort and safety whereas hers had always been cold and severe—and gaudy.

Crellian watched the boy wander around the room. A small feeling of satisfaction rose in his soul. He was pleased to see the wonder in Teldrelïe’s eyes. Maybe he’d done the right thing after all.

“These are my chambers,” he interrupted the child’s inspections. “Which means that they are also yours. We’ll have some clothes made for your tomorrow and that room there rearranged to suit your needs.”

Teldrelïe turned to look where his master pointed. His eyes flew open as he beheld the area that Crellian told him would be his. He shook his head in disbelief and wonder. It was all too good to be true.

He fought the tears that sprung to his eyes. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, not turning back to look at Crellian. The boy listened as the elf approached.

Crellian reached out to place both his hands on the child’s shoulders. “I’m doing this because I take care of my own. When I chose to remove you from the wretched life my idiot-cousin imposed on you, this was the only path.” He spun the boy so he could look into the misty, blue eyes—so rare among their people.

“I don’t understand why you would trust me,” Teldrelïe confided. “I have done nothing to prove to you that I am worthy. Slaves run when they get the chance—you’ve seen me run…”

Crellian shook his head. “I meant what I said when I told my mother you’re quick-witted. I’ve seen enough of you to know of your intelligence. If you intended to leave or steal from me, you would have done that on the return journey. You would not have waited until we reached a land you are entirely unfamiliar with but one that I know well. I trust you, Teldrelïe.”

The young elf sniffled as he head dropped. He shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do to thank you…”

“Don’t worry about such useless things for now,” Crellian encouraged. “It was a long journey and there will be much you need to learn in the coming weeks. Just prepare for that.”

“Yes, master.”

Crellian smiled and released the boy. “The far door in your room leads to a small bath chamber. Feel free to use it if you wish. Goodnight, Teldrelïe.”

“Goodnight, Master Crellian.”

It took some time, but the young elf settled into his new life. As Crellian promised, there were few times when Teldrelïe was not either safe in his private chamber or by his master’s side. Teldrelïe was grateful he’d been warned about the change he would perceive in his master. If he hadn’t been told about it, he might have tried to run away again, believing he’d been tricked.

However, the days continued to roll by, and little by little, Teldrelïe grew accustomed to his role in life. No longer did he act the wretched scarecrow in a withering garden, but took up his place as a diligent, hardworking servant to Crellian Ilnk.

What he liked best were the times that Crellian would call his three elf-retainers and the five of them would either go to the near-by forests or into the city. Those times were most like the journey down—where Crellian was most relaxed and free.

It took little time before Crellian grew as used to Teldrelïe’s company as his own shadow. Teldrelïe proved to be a useful, devoted aid, and Crellian couldn’t help but wonder if elder brothers felt towards their little brothers the way he felt for Teldrelïe.

One day, several years after Teldrelïe joined the Ilnk household, Vaelt came—uncalled—to his master’s chambers. Crellian and Teldrelïe were busy working on Crellian’s newest business deal. If it worked properly, Crellian would be able to expand his semi-secret transportation service to the human cities in the west.

“I’ll get it,” Teldrelïe announced as he leapt to his feet almost before the final pound fell to silence again.

“Thank you,” Crellian mused, running his eyes over the paperwork. He looked up when the door creaked and offered Vaelt a smile. “Welcome, friend. What service can I do for you today?”

“You can watch your back, my lord,” Vaelt announced.

Crellian set aside his papers and looked up at his strongest retainer. The worry in the elf’s face was obvious. “What’s happened?” he inquired.

“Right now it’s just kitchen talk,” he informed, but it weighs like kitchen talk that has foundation… It’s been said that at your mother’s banquet that Lady Ylien has called for your death.”

Crellian’s eyebrows rose and he sat back in thought. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

Teldrelïe’s jaw dropped in horror and surprise. Why would anyone want to take his master’s life?

“You think she means it this time?”

“Sounds like it,” Vaelt confirmed.

The pale elf turned to his master. “What’s going on?” he couldn’t help the words that blurted from his mouth.

“Nothing much,” Crellian dismissed the issue. “Just a wealthy she-elf who feels I slighted her once.”

“Crazy she-elf,” Vaelt corrected under his breath.

“Vaelt, that’s not kind,” Crellian reprimanded.

“I don’t care!” Vaelt exploded. “She’s tried to kill you before, and I don’t take kindly to psychos who try to hurt my lord!”

“Vaelt, please try and calm yourself; you’ll disturb Teldrelïe,” Crellian sighed with a smile. “While I appreciate the sentiment, nothing can be done about it if this is truly the case. I thank you for the warning and will make sure to guide my actions by it.”

Vaelt frowned and pressed his lips together. He knew a dismissal when he heard one. He would never understand why Crellian was so forgiving of that selfish she-elf. “My lord,” he started—his anxiety still apparent in his voice. “I do not wish to trouble you with this, but I have need of your negotiation skills at the market.”

Crellian laughed aloud. “It wouldn’t be a trouble, except for this paperwork I need to finish. Teldrelïe, you’re as good as I am by now. Would you go with him to help?”

The pale elf nodded. “I would be happy to.”

“Good,” grunted Vaelt as he latched onto Teldrelïe’s arm. “Let’s go.”

Teldrelïe skipped to keep up with the large elf who dragged him through the hallways. “Vaelt, I walk better when I can balance,” Teldrelïe reminded him.

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Vaelt released the youth’s arm and lengthened his own strides.

Teldrelïe had to half-jog to keep up. “What’s this business that you need help with?” he asked. The more he knew about an issue the better he could deal with it.

“You attend Lady Ilnk’s banquets with Crellian, right?”

Teldrelïe raised an eyebrow in question but answered in the affirmative. What did that have to do with their present task?

Vaelt stopped walking and turned to Teldrelïe. The youth jerked as he tried to stop as well. He looked up to the larger elf and tilted his head to the side.

“If you knew that Crellian was in trouble, what would you do?”

“I would help him however I could,” Teldrelïe answered, unnerved by the elf’s intensity.

“Even if it endangered your own life?”

“Of course.” The young elf didn’t even have to think about the answer. After everything that Crellian had done for him, why wouldn’t he?

Vaelt resumed his speedy walk down the hallways as fast as he’d stopped it. “Crellian would not allow me to do this if he knew,” he started.

Teldrelïe frowned. What was Vaelt going to do that Crellian didn’t approve of? “Are you sure you should tell me, then?” he asked. “You know I admire you, but my loyalty lies with Crellian.”

“Shut-up and listen to me,” Vaelt growled. “I’m going to do this to protect Crellian. The banquet is on the next moon. That gives me nineteen days to get you into some kind of form that you could protect him if needed.”

“Huh?”

“You’re the only one I can trust that will be able to be close enough to him throughout the dinner. He wouldn’t want you to endanger yourself; that’s why he wouldn’t approve. That’s why I’m not even going to ask. What do you say?”

Vaelt glanced back, waiting for Teldrelïe’s answer.

Teldrelïe looked to the ground as he considered. It was going to be dangerous. Vaelt had admitted as much. However, if Vaelt was worried, that meant there was a very real threat to Crellian’s life. If that was the case… “I’ll do it.”

“God lad.”

Teldrelïe kept to the shadows as he slipped through the manor towards the place he’d agreed to meet with Vaelt. To his surprise it was Ashev that called to him from the archway leading out of the courtyard.

“Ashev,” he started, confused. “What are you…?”

“Vaelt may have every elf in this world beat when it comes to power, but I am much more suited for training you for this task.”

“Why you?”

Ashev grinned down at him. “Because to find an assassin, you have to be able to think like one. The only way to do that is to be trained by one.”

Teldrelïe’s jaw dropped. He never would have guessed that the free and easy-going Ashev could be such a thing. “You’re an assassin?”

Ashev smiled. “Feels like a lifetime ago, but yes, I was before I entered Crellian’s services. Hurry. We don’t have nearly enough time so we can’t waste a moment.”

The young elf nodded. He’d agreed to do this, and he would put his everything into it.

He blinked, surprised and trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of his lungs. Teldrelïe shifted his view from the stars to the shadowy figure that loomed above him. The youth shivered in apprehension and in response to the throbbing in his back that started to register. What had Ashev just done to him?

“Lesson number one.” Ashev’s voice grew dark. “Everyone is either an enemy or a target—except Crellian.”

Crellian tilted his head to the side as he watched his young companion slowly lose his battle to remain awake. He shook his head and stepped towards the pale elf. Teldrelïe would be stiff when he woke up. The older elf reached out to adjust the sleeping youth’s position.

Pekrin grinned as he watched his lord. “You dote on that boy,” he observed.

Crellian chuckled as he returned to take his seat at the table where he and Pekrin worked on new plans. “I suppose I do.”

“He seems to be sleeping more often these days,” Pekrin observed.

“I’ve noticed that too. I think maybe he’s ill.” The elf’s brow furrowed as he admitted his worry to his wisest friend.

“What makes you think that?” Pekrin asked.

“Well, the sleeping is one thing,” Crellian started. “I’ve noticed he’s bruising too. When I ask what happened he shrugs and says he’s not sure. I can’t imagine what’s wrong. When I offered to contact a medic he got flustered and asked me not to. I’m not sure what to do.”

Pekrin sat back further in his chair and fingered his pipe in thought. He looked through the faint, blue smoke at the pale, sleeping slave. His lord hadn’t asked for his advice or his opinion, so he would hold it for now. Maybe he could make Crellian come to his own conclusions through some questions.

“What are you going to do when his rebellion rises again?”

“You say it with such surety,” Crellian sighed.

“Well, he has a strong will,” Pekrin pointed out. “He’s already proven that he has the tendency. It won’t be long before his hormones kick in. You treat him so well he may forget the role he is supposed to live in. If he pushes, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Crellian admitted. “It would only be natural for him to push the bounds…”

“But your mother would not tolerate you permitting it.”

“I know,” Crellian pressed his fingertips into his eyes. “I’m going to hope that he never does then—otherwise, I’d have to free him.”

“Even though it would cost you your mothers favor?”

“Yes. He doesn’t deserve slavery. I can’t force such on him.”

“My lord, he is now a slave.”

“Don’t remind me,” Crellian groaned. “It’s one of the great shames in my life.”

“The boy’s life as much improved. You did not enslave him,” Pekrin reminded.

“I know,” Crellian sighed. “But I am too weak to give him is freedom.”

Pekrin chuckled. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure everything will work out.”

Crellian nodded and turned back to his paperwork. He wished he believed Pekrin, but with everything that had been going on, he’d grown doubtful.

“Are you ready, Teldrelïe?” Crellian asked as he stopped at the doorway that separated Teldrelïe chamber from the large office and sitting area.

The pale elf turned and offered his master a lopsided grin. “Almost,” he informed as he attempted to look down on the complicated binding at his neck. “This is harder than it looks.”

“It is,” Crellian agreed with a laugh. “Can I help?”

“Sure.” Teldrelïe dropped his hands as he walked towards his master.

Crellian reached out to help lace up the final binding on the new, formal over-robe. He laughed as he realized he didn’t even need to stoop to see. “You’ve grown a lot in a few years.”

“I guess I have,” Teldrelïe agreed with a smile. “Thanks to you.”

Crellian shook his head as he finished the binding. “Keep this up and you’ll have me outstripped by summ…” The elf’s attention drew to a large, fresh bruise showing on the side of Teldrelïe’s jaw and neck. “What happened here?”

“Huh?” Teldrelïe asked, reaching up to touch the sore spot where he’d caught one of the torch-poles when Ashev had ducked out of the way of his lunge. “Oh that… it’s nothing.”

Crellian crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Is someone hurting you?” he demanded. He was going to go off the deep-end if someone was abusing Teldrelïe. And why wouldn’t the youth tell him about it?

“Really, Master Crellian,” Teldrelïe started. “It’s fine.”

“Would you tell me if you were ever in trouble?” Crellian asked after a moment of silence.

Teldrelïe grinned and nodded. “I would.” The youth’s face grew sad and distant. “Would you?”

Crellian drew back, surprised by the question. He laughed a little and reached out to rest his hand on the silvery-white head only a spread-hand’s breadth lower than his own. “It would depend, but probably not.”

Teldrelïe shook his head and tried to smile. He’d known what the answer would be to his question. It hurt to hear it though. “I’m ready, Master Crellian.”

“Let’s go then.”

Teldrelïe followed his master a step behind. The young elf turned his eyes and his ears outwards. He tried to control his tension. Ashev had told him that the first thing that would ruin his chances of helping Crellian was fear. It was difficult, however. He had no experience and little faith in his limited skills.

Ashev’s cold, determined face appeared before his eyes and the heavy words fell on his ears again. “Boy, you don’t have the luxury of doubt. This is where you decide if you control your own fate or if you will let circumstances dominate you forever.”

Teldrelïe narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath. Nothing was going to take his master from him. Not tonight. Not ever.

The two entered the long hall, and Teldrelïe followed Crellian to the section of the low table where they were to sit. The pale elf cast his eyes around; searching for anywhere a hidden threat may solidify from. After noting them, he lowered to the ground beside Crellian.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Crellian asked.

“I’m sure,” Teldrelïe answered with a smile, though he ran his eyes over the people already present and those entering the hall.

Crellian tilted his head to the side and reached out to rest his hand on Teldrelïe’s forearm. “Teldrelïe, are you worried about what Vaelt said a while ago?”

The pale slave turned to his master and looked up into the concerned eyes that stared at him. “A little,” he admitted.

“Don’t worry.” Crellian grinned. “The stars guide us all, and they’ll care for me as they see fit.”

And they’ll use me, Teldrelïe promised to himself.

The evening wore on. The young elf was tempted to relax, but every time he started to, Ashev stern voice would fill his mind. “The minute you drop your guard is the minute you die.” Not that he would mind his own death, but no one had a mind to kill a quiet slave. It was Crellian’s death that would destroy him.

“So Master Ilnk, tell me about this slave of yours.”

Teldrelïe looked across the table to lock his eyes on a smiling she-elf. She was more beautiful than any other he’d ever seen. However, there was a cruel edge in her black eyes that told him that her beauty was little more than a death-trap for those she ensnared.

“Teldrelïe was an acquisition from my cousin near three-years ago,” Crellian answered with a polite nod.

“I remember a day when you told me you’d never own a slave,” she purred. “I wonder if it was his lovely face that changed your mind… or maybe his body.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t either, Lady Ylien.” Crellian forced a smile to his face. He hated it when others acted like Teldrelïe was deaf. It embarrassed him when such suggestive conversations raised, he couldn’t imagine what it did to Teldrelïe.

Teldrelïe lifted his eyes to reappraise the she-elf across from him. So she was the one who threatened his master’s life. Not only did she threaten him, she’d embarrassed him. Teldrelïe didn’t really care what others thought about his role—he would give and do anything Crellian asked without question—but he loathed the blue tint that always rose in Crellian’s face. No one had a right to suggest things that Crellian clearly had no interest in.

“Well if you’re too simple to see his beauty, I would ask you to sell him to me.”

Both elves drew back in surprise.

Ylien narrowed her eyes and smiled—cold like a snake about to strike. “Sell him to me, and I will forget your past insults. You will never have to look over your shoulder again.”

Crellian’s jaw dropped. She offered her forgiveness in exchange for Teldrelïe? It disgusted him. What sort of person bothered to carry a death-grudge that could be dismissed with something as ‘simple’ as a slave? He started to shake his head but stopped when he felt pressure on his shoulder.

“Accept her offer,” Teldrelïe murmured. “If you think she’ll keep her end of the bargain… sell me to her.”

Crellian turned to stare at the young elf. He looked into the blue eyes as disbelief filled his soul. The honesty and the pleading that met his gaze startled him. Why would Teldrelïe ask to be sold to a she-elf like that? Surely he would be able to sense her malice.

“I won’t do that to you,” he answered.

“If it will help you,” Teldrelïe argued, “do it. You saved me. Let me return the favor.”

Crellian shook his head as he turned back to Ylien. “No.”

She narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. “You always were a selfish brute,” she snarled. “Ever since we were children, you’ve denied me the things I’ve wanted.”

“You may not have Teldrelïe,” he growled. “I do not know what else I’ve supposedly withheld from you, but Teldrelïe is not for sale. I’m sorry if this offends you.”

“It does worse than offend!” she snapped. The she-elf threw down her napkin and rose. She glared down at Crellian. “I’m done with you.”

The room watched her storm out.

Crellian slumped a little. “And that, my young friend, is how you make loyal enemies.”

“You should have sold me,” Teldrelïe murmured.

“I told you years ago that I wanted to improve your life. That would not have done such.”

Coldness washed over Teldrelïe as a shiver danced up and down his spine. The youth knew that the feeling had nothing to do with the temperature since the height of summer pressed over the land. The pit of his stomach knotted, and he found himself moving before his mind comprehended what he was doing.

The sound of his hidden blade intercepting the dagger jarred him out of his half-unaware state. He recognized the elf as one of the manor servants. Ashev’s voice came to him once again. At the time, the elf had worn a mourning expression and spoken in hushed tones as if he only half-believed what he said. “Assassins are not warriors. They will not wait politely while you prepare for battle. They want to kill you before you get the chance to challenge them. If you catch one off-guard, do not hesitate. Kill him, or he will take advantage of your indecision.”

Teldrelïe remembered this even as he wavered. Only a split-second before, he’d shoved his master out of the way and warded off the blow. Now, he found himself staring at the elf, unable to do as Ashev taught him. How could he just kill him? What if he’d been forced? What if…?

The pain that radiated out from his side drove all rational thought from his brain. His body wanted to collapse, sputtering and weak. Teldrelïe knew, however, if he did, Crellian was dead. He’d made one mistake already; he couldn’t compound it.

The young elf reached out and snagged the servant’s collar, slamming him to the ground, just as Ashev had done to him the first night of their training. This time, Teldrelïe didn’t falter. It was the assassin or him and his master. His master trumped.

Teldrelïe panted as their cobalt blood mingled on the red-tiled floor. He looked into the wide eyes of the other elf and felt a part of him died.

“Oh stars,” Crellian swore as he caught Teldrelïe when the youth slumped over. “You idiot.”

Teldrelïe grinned up at his master whose face was blurring in and out of focus. He cried for the part of him that died, but realized that he would never mourn it. Crellian was safe for now, and it had been worth it.

“You… should have sold me,” Teldrelïe forced out with a weak smile.

Crellian shook his head as he reached out to touch the pale face. It was all wrong. If the stars had wanted him alive, they would have protected him. He shouldn’t have let Teldrelïe come. He should have seen that the boy wouldn’t let events unfold as they would. He should have…

Horror filled him as all of the hints came together to form a whole picture. Ever since hearing about the threat, Teldrelïe had been training to protect him. That’s where the bruises came from. That’s why he had been sleeping so much more. It was his fault.

“It’s going to be okay,” he tried to comfort the young elf that slowly slipped away from him. “It’s going to be okay.”

“How are you feeling?”

Teldrelïe rolled his head to look over at Crellian. He grinned and chuckled, but fought it when pain rose in response. “Like I was stabbed,” he answered. “How are you?”

Crellian laughed. “Oh I’m fine, thanks to you.” The elf fell silent for a moment. “I wish you would have told me that you intended to try and fight off whatever she sent at me.”

“Why would I do that? You wouldn’t have let me come,” Teldrelïe pointed out.

“That’s right,” Crellian answered. “I would have, and you would have not been hurt.”

“Wrong,” Teldrelïe contradicted. “This is nothing to what I would have felt if you were killed.”

Crellian remained silent for a few seconds. “My mother told me I should let you die since slaves aren’t worth the cost of healers,” Crellian remarked. “I told her she could go jump in the lake.”

“I’m sure that went well,” Teldrelïe laughed.

“Well, not quite,” the elf chuckled. “Luckily, rage-death struck before she could voice her decision to throw me out of the family.”

“Which means?”

“Which means that she’s dead, and now I am free to release you from slavery.”

Teldrelïe struggled to sit up. He looked at his master and shook his head. “No.”

“What?” Crellian asked in disbelief. “Don’t you understand what I just said?”

“I do,” Teldrelïe answered. “I understand that if you free me, you will be branded a fool and a coward by all of your peers. Your sister, regardless of her disinterest, will toss you from her family. I will not be the cause of your ridicule and downfall.”

“I don’t understand you,” Crellian commented as he sat back and hid his eyes in his hands.

“Master,” Teldrelïe started, “you don’t have to understand me. I only ask that you respect my wishes. If you truly want to give me freedom, give me the freedom to choose my own path. I do not want to be released from your ownership. If it should happen that you die before I do, then grant me my freedom, but not before.”

Crellian looked up and sighed. The youth asked for self-decision. He wanted to remain a slave. “I will not free you, on paper,” Crellian announced. “In my heart you are free, however.”

Teldrelïe laughed. “Master, you made that clear years ago.”