Chapter Four

Valora Two

When Valora finally regained consciousness, she felt a rough hand brushing her hair softly. The rough surface of the table had been replaced with a cocoon of silk cloth. She forced her eyes open, finding Cenric staring down at her, full of worry and anger. He did not see her wake, instead staring at something on her head.

“Hey… you!” She whispered faintly, having a headache unlike anything she had experienced, as finally Cenric’s eyes met hers and his anger was replaced with a smile.

“You had me worried there, never been so scared in my life.” He smiled as he continued stroking her hair with one dried bloody hand, while holding the top of her arm with his other. Valora was not one for physical contact, however in that moment it was oddly comforting, making her realise how afraid she had been. Her eyes moved around the room, seeing three kentu lying beaten beyond recognition, their eyes covered in puss and melted skin, as if melted from their skulls.

“What did I miss?” She asked through her dry throat, never sounding so weak and feeble in her life.

“Norton and his Pendula held the defence, the fighting got intense, but they held them back.  Those three were the ones who threw the rocks that started this.” He said with a dark growl, leaving much unsaid. Valora swallowed hard, unsure how to feel about the devotion he showed her. It was rare, yet sometimes his love for her made him commit acts of devotion that even she found terrifying. Her eyes moved to the tortured husks, making her shiver with fear at how much rage her injury had unleashed in him. Deciding it best to not linger on those thoughts, she raised a hand to her head, flinching the second it touched her skin.

“Never been injured like this before, will I live?” She asked with a grin as she twisted her body free of the silk sheets and sat on the edge of the table.

“Careful, you're lucky to be alive. The rock struck so hard it cracked your skull, the healer said she didn’t know if you would wake up. Those kinds of injuries are very difficult to heal from, even for us. Apparently, your skull has mostly reformed, the only worry is if there's been damage done to your brain, if that happened it will be permanent.” Cenric spoke like he was reading from a book, methodical and simply giving the facts. Valora however had known him long enough to know he was hesitating to reveal something.

“You should just say whatever it is you're holding back, either that or I'm just going to assume I am now a simpleton.” Valora mocked, putting on a fake grin, attempting to ease whatever worries he was having. Cenric however did not grin but instead lowered his head in shame.

“I should have had you wear a helmet; I know it gives off a more confident and inspiring appearance without it, however it left you vulnerable. Now, you must pay the repercussions for my actions.” The pain in his voice sounded as though he was a father whose child had just gotten hurt. Valora did not interrupt him, even though he was being ridiculous even for him. “It is my duty to protect you and I failed in that, I am sorry.” He lowered his head, as if offering his neck for execution.

“You're my right hand, you are not responsible for my actions, especially after you have given me a warning. If I had arrived wearing a helmet, I would have been seen as weak and not beautiful. You have told me many times I should wear it and I chose not to, so whatever has happened is my fault and not yours. I was the one who didn't wear a helmet, I was the one who picked a horse based on how it would look instead of its nature, and finally I was the one who did not see this coming.”

“Still…” He started, yet she cut him off.”

“Dovanga Cenric, those are my families words for a reason, this is what we do. So, I order you to stop blaming yourself and tell me what has happened?” Valora would not listen to any more of his self-deprecation, he was not responsible for her playing the game and acting defiantly. Slowly Cenric nodded and raised his eyes to look at hers.

“Your body was too damaged, having to heal so much all at once, especially such a deadly wound to your skull, meant your body could not finish the healing before running out of energy.” Cenric spoke as if giving a death sentence, closing his eyes, unable to look into hers.

“You mean…” Valora started but could not finish.

“Yes, you have a scar.”

Valora rested her forehead on her hand, since waking she had had the worst headache of her life and the light was making it worse. When finally, Cenric had relented and given her a mirror, her headache had worsened upon seeing the thin white scar that touched the top of her right eye before rising into her hairline, where is stopped atop her head. She could not believe her luck, an imperfection on this scale just before entering court, she may as well enter naked and drunk as both would be considered just as shameful. Just thinking of the shame she would suffer had her tapping her legs against the table, not caring that her mother would not approve.

While most of the races that were designed for war, were given some level of healing ability that healed most minor injuries within a few minutes, the elves went far beyond that. She had seen elves recover entire limbs and one had even healed punctures to both lungs. However, as the injuries got worse or more numerous, the body could not heal them flawlessly and so imperfections would be left, such as scars. Valora had read that amongst humans, scars and war injuries were seen as badges of honour, that lifted warriors up and even helped them get married to more desirable women. Among the elves however, even something as small as a one-inch scar, was considered an imperfection worthy of shame. It showed you are not the most powerful and perfect being that elves were meant to be. While she could find a magic user that could alter her body to remove it, it would take time and she would have to find one willing to keep it silent. Part of Valora's growing legacy was that her beauty was completely natural, unlike the majority of those at court.

The idea of having to alter her body through magic frustrated Valora, she did not care that everyone else deformed their bodies, to her it always seemed like an insult to the Gods. She had known people who altered themselves so much their face no longer resembled what they were born with, she wondered what the Gods thought of them. Would they feel slighted that this simple-minded creation of theirs was not happy with their hard work, choosing to spit in their face and use magic to cheat to gain their own perfection. The more Valora thought about it, the bigger her headache grew as she knew waiting for her within the Lilium estate was no doubt her mother, who would rage like a harpy if she saw.

Valora's eyes kept going to Cenric, she had never seen him so heartbroken and full of shame. Valora wondered if it was simply just guilt at her being injured, or if the fact her beauty had been stolen was causing him to feel the shame. She wondered if he, or perhaps everyone from now on would see her as some hideous monster, instead of the beautiful Goddess her soldiers called her.

Eventually the healer arrived, it was the same one that had been there earlier, who had left to help the other injured from the rioting. The healer was a young Pendula by the name of Petal, an odd name Valora thought. The Pendula had inspected the scar, confirming what Cenric had told her, before resting her arm on Valora’s shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture. Valora slowly turned her head to glare at the hand until it was removed, she was not a child needing swaddling, the time for being depressed was not now.

“Cenric, let's head to the estate, I want to get inside the safety of my families walls, then I want to have a word with those three about repaying whoever did this.” Valora said with a cold stare towards the tortured husks, imagining ways she could inflict more pain to gain the information she needed. Violence was distasteful to her, unless it was necessary.

“I already know who's responsible, however if you simply want to torture them anyway, I'm more than happy to help with that.” Cenric spoke with a cold growl, causing whimpers from one of his victims who had become conscious once more. Petal’s eyes went wide, before she rushed to leave the room out of fear of being caught up in the promised destruction. Before Valora left the room, she noticed Norton speaking to one of his Pendula in the kitchen and walked up to him.

“Norton, I want to thank you for your work in keeping me and Cenric alive, I would also wish to apologise for the soldiers you lost.” Valora bowed low to him, something that would be considered a breach in protocol to many Autem, however she owed him her life and needed him to understand that, even if he was a Pendula. “I owe you a debt, if ever you should need my aid, I will give it to you if I can.”

Norton stared at her with his eyes wide and mouth open. Valora was a member of the highest levels of elven society, there was very little her and her House could not do, so a favour from her was invaluable. After a few moments, Norton recovered before bowing to her and smiling softly.

“I was simply doing my duty; I would do it again in a heartbeat; however, I thank you for such a wonderful gift.” He said looking happy for the first time since she had arrived at the city. As Valora turned to leave, a thought occurred to her, and she turned back once more.

“I would ask you a small favour, have the families of the Silver Guard that died come to my estate tomorrow at midnight. I think it's only fitting I should thank them for their fallen, tell them I intend to have them buried in my family’s crypts with our servants. It cannot replace their fallen, but it will give their families honour, as well as let me sleep at night.” Valora knew if she didn't, the deaths would play on her. No matter how guilty Cenric felt, she knew she was the one responsible for this. It had been her horse that crushed those guards, it had been her playing the game that led her to choosing vanity above her safety, and it had been her the rioters had wanted.

“I will see it done my Lady.” Norton replied with a heavy heart, showing Valora that she and Cenric were not the only ones feeling guilt. Valora’s guilt only worsened when she left the house to begin the march to her childhood home. The body of a large stallion laid covered in holes and slashes to its legs. Dunelle, Valora realised, looking to Cenric who avoided the body with all his might, his eyes showing just the slightest sign of the pain he was feeling inside. She wanted to offer her sympathy, yet not there, not while eyes were on them.

Valora had been lucky, when she arrived at the estate it was mid-day, meaning any of her family would be asleep as they lived on a nocturnal schedule. A large force of silver guards had escorted them straight to the door, where the house guard took over and escorted her to her chambers. As she neared the northern end of the beautiful manor, that was the living quarters of her family, she once more met with the hounds she had sent to sneak Reine and Cosette inside the city. Their faces were alarmed at seeing their bloodied Princess before them.

“Lady Silver Dance, who done this to you?” Poe Troll Biter demanded with panic in his voice. Poe was a hound, a very large and unruly one, his black fur made him difficult to see even with the lit candles nearby. The hounds always put Valora at ease, while there large mass and feral outburst gave the appearance of simple beasts, she knew that once there respect was given, they were like her, loyal to the end. They did not banter words, hide their feelings, or deceive. They just were themselves, from birth to death.

“Someone who will suffer, I assure you.” She replied coldly as she tried her hardest to stand up straight, not wishing to show weakness even with her still damaged leg. “We shall discuss this tonight, get what rest you can now, I intend to follow midnight hours while within the city. I expect you all to do the same.”

“Of course, Lady Silver Dance, your word is law.” Poe replied, striking his chest with a heavy paw, causing an audible ringing to fill the corridor. Of all the names given to her, Lady Silver Dance was her favourite. The title was only used by hounds, given to her many years ago before she had become a General of the Midnight Kingdom. A title given by the hounds was rare, a sign they saw you as one of their pack.

Poe and his hounds left, heading towards the western section of the manor where the servants made their home. Cenric lingered however, his eyes full of worry, his grief beginning to drip through the cracks now they were out of sight. Being a Pendula, he was expected to sleep in the servant’s quarters as well, however an exception was made for him.

The public reason was their fathers had been close, yet there had been rumours Cenric was her bastard brother, Cenric’s mother being a simple maid. While Valora did not know for sure, her father had always been insistent on Cenric and her being close. Even as a child he had pushed the older Cenric to follower her, acting as her male guardian on many official occasions when her father was busy. Before his death he had named Cenric her bodyguard, having him sleep just five bedrooms from her. While he was no longer her bodyguard, being her right hand, he still acted the part in public. After all, no Pendula could be the right hand of a Autem, not one who wanted to be respected at least.

“I will be ok, get some rest, that’s an order. Tomorrow, we begin our vengeance, for the silver guards, for Dunelle and for the disrespect they showed us.” She swore, adding Dunelle’s name even though she had no love for the beast. She knew he cared for it; she knew its death would clutch at his heart.

He said nothing else, just smiling for a second before gently lifting his right hand and resting it on her cheek, his thumb rubbing under her eye. The gesture was common among the elves, known as the phantom mourning, used to show shared grief, the lingering sensation is meant to remind you you’re not alone.

She lifted her hand and did the same, having to raise her hand higher as he was taller by a foot and a half. His smooth skin had the slightest shine, showing some level of Autem inside him, but not nearly enough to earn the title. As they broke apart, heading their separate ways, the lingering touch of the phantom mourning left Valora smiling slightly.

Inside she was welcomed by her childhood, all be it a childhood with bittersweet memories. The room was perfect and orderly, without a single speck of dust out of place. A large bookcase took up an entire wall, a gift from her father as he knew she loved reading. After his death, her mother made sure the only books resting within would help her play the game. Gone were the books about adventure and great loves, that she had spent many nights reading while sitting on her father's lap. Now all that remained were books detailing the personal accounts of great rulers and politicians. Mountains of boring books explaining how to be a snake, deprived of any romance or adventure, short of affairs and political assassinations.

In front of the bookcase was a large desk with a small painting of her and her father standing side by side, soft smiles upon their faces. Valora immediately walked over and picked up the frame, remembering back to the almost six hours that the two of them had had to stay still while they were being painted. They were unable to stop giggling, the two continuously trying to make the other laugh, enjoying the frustrated look of the painter whenever they succeeded.

Valora looked much younger, only nine years old but still with long hair that back then almost reached the floor, something her father would tease her about, pretending to trip over her hair and stumble to the floor. When her eyes glanced over him, her heart ached as the proud noble Autem, who everyone in court loved or hated with a passion unrivalled, stared back at her. She had heard the stories about him, he was a shrewd and brilliant politician who stood at the right side of the same King Valora now served, as one of the most powerful elves in the Kingdom. Even though she heard all the stories about him outplaying his opponents, she could never picture it as he had been nothing but a kind and loving father to her, never once showing the brutal tactician others claimed him to be.

He had short blonde hair that went unusually far down his face, as though it was forming the beginnings of a beard around his jaw, something very uncommon amongst the elves. His eyes were like hers, a crystal blue, something that made it hard for her to look at her own reflection as when she saw her eyes, she only saw his. While most elves had softer features, he instead had a hard jaw line that looked capable of crushing stone. Instead of having the large pointed ears of an elf, his were instead flattened to his head and curved so the point was facing backwards. That was Rhys Lilium, an elf who was so good at playing the game, he did not even have to alter his features to look beautiful to gain respect, instead of following the rules he made them. Valora wondered if he would feel ashamed of her following the game so closely after he refused to do so.

Resting the painting once more, she brushed her hand over his cheek before whispering. “Prim rylo,” meaning ‘rest my blood’ in the true tongue, the language of the old races.

A soft knock on the entrance to her bedroom caught her attention, as she turned wondering who it would be. Upon opening the door, she was met by Reine and Cosette. The two stared meekly at her, Reine the smaller of the two, holding a bucket field with steaming water. Cosette, the stronger one who had only been acquired just two months ago, held several towels.

Bringing them inside, Valora then had them remove her armour. The light travel armour had proven to be a poor choice, as much of it was left dented. The upper sections of armour came off with no difficulty while the greaves proved more troublesome. Her travel armour was designed to offer minimal protection and be more for show, as such the horses trampling had bent much of the greaves inwards, so it pressed against her legs. The three of them combined had to pull and twist until finally it would come off.

The damage below was to be expected, while the bones and many of the cuts and scrapes had healed, there was several large bruises that covered the surface. There was also a long-jagged slice, where the bent armour had scraped against her leg while walking. While the cuts would likely scar, it would be out of sight and easy to hide unlike the disgusting one on her face. The two girls got to work cleaning her naked body, attempting to not hurt her more when cleaning the bruises. When they did all they could, she sent them away wishing to be alone.

Feeling exhausted and still having a headache, Valora did not have the energy to continue on. Instead, she simply walked over to the large silk woven cocoon that rested above the ground, both ends tide to the roof. She climbed inside, loving the feeling of the silk against her naked body, before letting exhaustion take her.

At first, she was plagued with images of her being shamed, of her fellow Autem laughing at her for being hideous now. The males now calling her ugly, no longer staring at her in lust and devotion. The women whispering behind her back, making stories of her being past her time, no longer the symbol of beauty she always was. She pictured the scar growing, her face in half and melting as she begged for them to not turn their backs on her. Her army no longer called her their Goddess, they turned from her looking for a real Princess and not this false one. Then the worst, Cenric changed. Instead of being unable to look down at her naked body as she got undressed, his eyes never once looked down, even he no longer lusted for her. She was alone, she had no one. And then, out of nowhere, it changed, now she started dreaming of her father.

She dreamed of her visit to the Iron City, the capital of the Phoenix Empire and the supposed birthplace of humanity. This was her first-time seeing Eden, her father had brought her there when she was twenty-three, still a child as elves grew far slower than humans. The city had been horrific to her eyes, there was little nature growing within it as it was buried beneath the mountains and made of pure stone. Few trees or plants could be found, only moss enjoying the man-made light. For over thirty miles there was nothing of value, just a city filled with humans and what few races they allowed to live in their world. The dead city she had called it, for what else was it.

While the city looked disgusting, the people had intrigued her. All her childhood she had heard that humans despise the elves and wanted to enslave them, like they had the Tillian elves who had remained on Eden. Instead, most looked at her with fascination, some even attempting to speak with her, however Valora only knew the true tongue and a few small words in imperial. Her father however was fluent in both, having them laughing and eating out of his hand as though he was one of them.

She had been brought to the Citadel of the Phoenix, the fortress that rested at the only two entrances to the Iron City, causing everyone who wished to visit to walk through the halls of the most powerful human alive, the Emperor himself. The man had been intimidating even to her, instead of being magically powerful the man had an aura of unbreakable will and physical strength. Valora had not even been able to stare into his eyes, as the man had scared her so much, however her father had spoken to him as though he was simply another elf. The two had laughed, agreeing on much that even now she could not understand as it was so long ago, and had been heard through the ears of a child. Their kind words soured at the arrival of a man cloaked in black robes, looking like his body had been melted with fire. Her father no longer laughed, instead cursing in imperial.

While those two great beings of humanity and elves spoke with the melted man, Valora had found herself being taken by the hand and pulled away, before being told she was now part of a game that she did not understand. Two green eyed boys had begun speaking to her in imperial while a third stood quietly. She stared at them in confusion, realising their mistake, they changed to the true tongue, speaking as though it were their language. Valora did not understand the game, even now she could not comprehend why humans played it. They explained that because the taller boy with the shy smile and nervous look had touched her, it was now her objective to chase them down and touch one of them.

The game seemed incredibly juvenile and at the time she could not see the fun in it, however the three boys had been so boisterous and had grins that were so intoxicating that Valora could not find it in herself to refuse. She quickly discovered the game was incredibly fun, especially because she was faster than them being an elf. The boys however proved very intelligent, setting traps for her and leading her to the passages where there was no way out.

The boy who had initially approached her was handsome, for a human at least. He had an air about him that had them all staring at him constantly, waiting for him to give orders. The tall one was ugly; Valora did not speak to him as he did not speak elvish and seemed more comfortable with the other boys than her. She caught him staring out of the corner of his eye at her, making Valora assume he distrusted elves. The last was the most fluent in elvish and so talked constantly, however he never spoke of anything of importance and mostly seemed to be asking questions and giving Valora odd looks. Valora did not understand at the time, however now could assume it was flirting. The four had played for hours while the grown-ups had spoken, none of them had discussed anything of value, simply laughing and teasing one another that they were as slow as Yulma.

Valora would have played all night, however she spotted her father watching them with amusement and had to tell her new friends goodbye. Her father would tell her later that the boy that approached her was not any child, but the heir to the throne, the Emperor’s only son. Back then those words meant nothing to Valora, as she simply found three boys who made her laugh in this place that felt so cold and dead. That boy, however, would grow and when she next saw him, they both stood on opposite sides of a war that killed millions. Valora would often think back to those days running through the corridors, wondering if perhaps there was something the Gods were trying to tell her, but she could not figure it out.

She had thought about that trip many times during the war and after, however during this dream she remembered something that she had strangely forgotten. As her father and her had made their way to leave the capital, he had been distracted by a human noble saying farewell, so did not see the burned man approaching Valora. He had whispered many words in Valora’s ear, only stopping when her father had slammed his palm into him so hard the human flew across the room, slamming into a pillar. She had never seen her father so angry, watching in shock as he had drawn his sword and yelled at the man.

“I won't let you manipulate my child with your games Harbinger!” Her father looked like a feral beast protecting its cub, standing between her and this odd human who made her bones shake. Being so close, she felt hatred for him, yet was not sure why. He felt wrong, her body screaming to get away from him.

“I was simply wishing the child a good trip, you're far too suspicious Arno.” He had replied in perfect true tongue, however the final word confused Valora. Arno was not his name, it was Rhys.

The human had winked at her before standing up, dusting himself off and walking through the corridors as though he were a ghost, as not one pair of eyes followed him except theirs. Her father only turned to look at her once the man had left, kneeling, staring into her young eyes and asked with fear. “What did he whisper to you child?”

The question felt so important even then, however she was unsure what the words meant, so worried about telling them to her father in case she would get in trouble. His constant stare made her feel even worse, like she had somehow done something wrong, however could not understand what. “Please Valora, this is very important, I must know exactly what he said.” Valora bit her lip, shaking her body from side to side feeling incredibly uncomfortable, however he was her father so of course she should trust him.

“He said the bell has been rung, the right words spoken. Blades now come from the dark, both here and beyond. Watch the pillars, see the signs yourself, immortality is coming for us all.” The words had shrouded her father's eyes and he spoke little the rest of that day, until the city was in the distance. He would die just one year later sitting at his desk, his wrist cut open, and an eye painted in his blood on the wall behind him.

Valora awoke many hours later in the middle of the night, the sounds of the bustling city creeping in from outside. Elves called out to one another in greeting, while the market was three streets over, it sounded as though it was in her room from the noise it made. Valora had never heard it like this before, every noise felt twice as loud as usual and stabbed at her mind like a dagger. Moving from within her cocoon, she swung her legs over the side before dropping to the floor. With the light of the World Tree blasting through her window, Valora could see the intricate patterns woven through song into every inch of the walls around her. Resting her hand upon the wall, she thanked the world tree as she had done every day as a child while she slept beneath it. She then rubbed her head gently as she tried to remember all that happened when she had arrived.

No sooner had Valora remembered, did she hear the sounds of footsteps approaching her room. Immediately her body stiffened. As if controlled by some spell, Valora rushed to stand in the centre of the room, standing as tall and proud as she could being naked. She knew the sound of those feet and what pain was about to come. As the approaching steps made her heart stop, she thought back to what Cenric had offered and wondered if it was too late to flee.