The kings of the "house of trees" – magic and demon E-Book

Johanna Maurer

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 917

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

There is a power sleeping in Ruthiel, waiting to be shaped and controlled. She has no idea of the responsibility that comes with her magical abilities and that will rest on her shoulders in a few decades. The ominous incidents in the mountains, with elven women disappearing and elves being killed, continue to exert a special fascination on Tharandil. And so he and Nimrond set out with a delegation to Ethaborn to support King Amikron and solve the mystery. It is one of their last adventures, for the time of kings is coming to an end. But before they can make their way to the gods, an old acquaintance reappears. Demon Drumba wants to take everything from them...

Leseprobe

Any inconsistencies in the text are due to the fact that it was translated using computer-aided technology for a company-wide study.

© 2025 novum publishing gmbh

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dedication

This story is

for my twin sister, Karin, who supported me with advice and criticism.

For a friend, Michele, who encouraged me to send the manuscript to a publisher.

For my husband, Heiko, who read the very first version and encouraged me to continue writing.

Section I

Ruthiel, the magician

Ruthiel's secret

Since the day the messenger stumbled into the dining room, the king and his deputy queen have spent half the night in the great library, evaluating the news brought to them by broken glass and messengers. One bad report follows the next, nowhere a glimmer of hope, nowhere, and worry etched into their faces. The front is crumbling more and more rapidly and, they quickly admit, is untenable. The Guards master takes the final decision while still on the battle line and gives the order for an immediate retreat.

Every day that passes without information about Nimrond and her two bodyguards makes Tharandil more nervous. He fears for his heart, for his lover and the two scoundrels, and for all the other hunters and huntresses and civilian warriors who, in the name of the "House of Trees," are now trying to buy them enough time for an orderly departure. Their resistance against the onrushing lizard troops is probably the last service many elves can provide for their royal house. How can he ever thank them for this sacrifice?

Ruthiel and Hamiko stand on the sidelines, but they observe closely what is happening. The change in the behavior of the adults around them fills their little hearts with fear. Their mother is suddenly extremely busy with serious matters and has less time than usual for joint activities. In fact, they only see Jamena at mealtimes andlate in the evening, when she quickly slips over to their beds and kisses her darlings. Sometimes, however, Ruthiel and Hamiko have already fallen asleep, and their mother tiptoes into the room.

The Deputy Queen would love to put a stop to the rapid pace of events and return everything to “zero,” but nothing and no one can stop the course of events.

Then the day comes when Tharandil, with a heavy heart, gives the order to depart for Gydland, and in the capital, speakers read out his call to all the inhabitants of Varngond to flee with them to the neighboring land, the realm of King Barin. Remaining and resisting under the given circumstances would be sheer suicide or servitude. Nevertheless, some of the elves remain in their familiar realms for a variety of personal reasons.

And this despite Tharandil promising them a safe place where his people can settle, and more importantly, there they'll have time and peace to forge a plan for reconquest. How long their stay in exile will last is anyone's guess, but anyone with a modicum of common sense knows we're talking years.

Tharandil repeatedly emphasizes that this hasty departure—he avoids the word "flight"—doesn't represent a surrender, but merely a purely tactical move. First, pretend to surrender; second, seek a safe haven; third, build a powerful army with an advance strategy; and fourth, strike at the lizards with full force. Sometimes it simply takes time and patience to reach one's goal, and retreating to safer territory is the prelude to a return home. Someday.

The members of the royal family quickly pack their personal belongings, organize their departure from the castle and the city, and at the same time, they have to think about the elves who want to stay.

Nimrond's dramatic depiction of what is happening among the lizards causes hectic activity and chaos everywhere. Almost every face reflects the fear of being overrun, the dread of the uncertain future, and the excessive effort they exert themselves under, for they work day and night to advance, and the hours tick by. So much still needs to be done, and the mountain of things that are probably left undone due to lack of time is growing instead of shrinking. What do we take with us, and what do we leave to the scaly stinkers? What are the bare necessities? Money and gold for King Barin, food and fodder for the animals, as well as clothing and household goods for a new home, and, of course, a few personal belongings. A few things dear to one's heart: pictures, jewelry, perfume, one's favorite comb, small statuettes of the gods, and toys for the children.

If they could, they would do three things at once, so much so that time is pressing, yet everything must be done in order. To ensure no item is forgotten, each of them runs around with a list in hand. All of the castle's inhabitants have been assigned their share of the preparations for their departure. Tharandil and Jamena are doing their part equally, as are the maids and farmhands, maids and stable boys, hunters and kitchen staff.

Once they're on the road, there's no turning back. Anything left unfinished remains unfinished and is inevitably lost.

Ruthiel has been whining for days because leaving Varngond is slowly becoming a serious prospect. The prospect of having to go to another country terrifies her. Almuth has already packed the large boxes and suitcases containing her belongings and they are waiting in the hallway for transport. There is no other way, no matter how fervently she hoped for it and how she brought flowers to Inana every day in the palace chapel and prayed for a miracle. They will allleave their familiar surroundings, the cozy chambers and familiar corridors of the castle, the day after tomorrow.

On the last evening, Ruthiel cries at supper and Jamena takes her in her arms and carries her to bed.

Hamiko sees the situation from a slightly different perspective. Sure, he's already grown and half a man. He knows that a catastrophe is approaching; he has eyes and ears, after all, and this causes an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Their lives are taking a sudden turn in an unfriendly direction, but for him, setting off for a foreign land also means the beginning of a great adventure.

He clings to the thought, and ever since he learned about it, he's performed many heroic deeds in his daydreams alongside Xernot. The plan is to travel far away, into a completely unknown territory beyond a gate. At least, that's what he's heard from the guard's fox-hunters, though the five friends were just about to gulp down as much of their wine as they could. It would be a shame if the good stuff flowed down lizard snouts.

For days, he's been wondering what it might look like there. Perhaps yellow trees and red, raspberry-flavored water, and candy canes growing on vines like runner beans.

As a precaution, he hangs his sword on his jacket belt and tucks his dagger into his bootleg. If there are any disgusting monsters there besides sweets, he's well prepared. If he thinks his sister is afraid of something, or if she's in grave danger, he immediately runs bravely and puts the enemies to flight. He is Ruthiel's protector and gallant, and when he comes trotting into the castle grounds on his pony, she gazes with pride at her mighty hunter.

With a wooden sword in his small hands, the little boy leads the way in the dimly lit palace corridors of the evening, paving the way for her, mowing down any vermin in his imagination or chasing them away with a loud voice. Oftenshe trails behind him, wearing a paper crown and a red cloak sewn from an old blanket around her narrow shoulders. All the servants, the men and women of the palace guard and the sentries, smile broadly when they see the two children striding by. Truly already a beautiful royal couple, brother and sister. Their childhood games of Deputy King Hamiko and Queen Ruthiel are now history lore.

It's still night when Jamena and Mavron get their two children out of bed and dress them. Hamiko and Ruthiel grumble sleepily and rub their tired eyes. Sitting at the table for breakfast at such an early hour throws them off their rhythm, and apart from a glass of milk and some sweet bread, they can't manage to eat anything. Ruthiel clutches her doll tightly, and Hamiko has tucked his stuffed horse under his belt with the wooden sword. He wouldn't leave his room without his pony.

In the flickering light of the torches and Siberyl lanterns, Jamena places the little girl and the slightly older boy in the large carriage, kisses them on the cheeks, and then slams the carriage door shut. She orders the hunter in front of them to watch over the children with all his might. Ruthiel and Hamiko are five and eight elf-years old this morning, and what do children understand about the invasion of the lizards and the war they bring, which is spreading horror across their homeland? Everything that is important to them, and which has been a safe haven for them until now, is lost in the chaos of a hasty and rushed departure. They have to move quickly; they just have to get away from here; the lizards are practically standing at the palace gate.

At least Ruthiel has some consolation for her sad soul this morning: the newborn kitten meow at her from their basket. Even though Jamena initially spoke out, believing the mouse hunters can fend for themselves among their new residents, the purrs arrive in the state carriage shortly before departure. Tharandil and Almuth drag the wicker basket andmother cat in at the last minute before the horses set off. The day before, Ruthiel had asked Tharandil, the highest authority, for help.

Now she's happy, as much as a frightened little girl can be. She clings tightly to Hamiko; he's strong, he protects her, he's brought his sword with him, and her eyes close.

Silently and with tears in their eyes, the elves remaining in the palace clear the table of the remains of breakfast. At the same time, a pale streak illuminates the horizon, and the wagons drive into the rising sun. At the same time, a convoy of hundreds of wagons, countless riders, pedestrians, and domestic animals sets off from Kyomoto at dawn and joins the carriages and wagons of the departing royal family and their attendants.

Ruthiel and Hamiko, along with the cat family, slumbered safely in the large royal carriage. The children had barely laid down on the benches, wrapped in blankets and furs, before they fell asleep again.

Jamena and Mavron trot beside the vehicle on their horses, and Tharandil, accompanied by several fox-hunters, rides ahead of everyone under the banner of the "House of Trees." As long as this banner flies above their heads, there is hope.

Later, on their way to the gate, hundreds of army personnel and civilians join the procession.

More people than Tharandil expected managed to escape the lizards before they could kill or capture them. Whether King Barin in Gydland will be pleased with such a large number of visitors is something Tharandil doubts more and more with each elf who arrives.

One covered wagon after the next, in between simple ladder wagons and handcarts, elves on mounts and on foot, and a swarm of domestic animals of all kinds. Anyone standing off to the side of the road andcatching sight of the convoy from a distance is looking at a lindworm consisting of thousands of individuals.

They rarely rest, pausing only in the evening for the darkest hours of the night; beast and elf alike need rest. Even though time is running out, they hurry, hurry to the gate to Gydland, and the journey is going too slowly for Tharandil. But he must be considerate; there are children and pregnant women, the elderly, the wounded and the sick. If he were traveling alone, he would have been on the other side long ago. Responsibility for them encircles him in iron chains, and instead of running, all he can do is tiptoe along. He knows he would be a bad king if he ran off to get his backside to safety and leave his people to their fate.

If the lizards catch up with them or even overtake them, he will die with them. That's to be expected of a ruler.

Luckily for them, the crossing lies in an area of Varngond that hasn't yet been taken over by the lizards. They're approaching from the opposite side.

The closer they get to the safe passage, the more numerous they become. The Wood Elves stream out of every hole to join their trek. Tharandil repeatedly considers whether it was really such a good idea to loudly urge everyone to come along. But it doesn't matter at all that he knows a loophole and is running away with his men; thanks to the always perfectly functioning gossip lines among the hunters, word would have spread in no time anyway. And as their king, he obviously can't just send the people away again.

The mass of elves gathering in front of the gate inevitably leads to a traffic jam, and quarrels and arguments arise among the refugees. Who is first and who is last? Some of the arrivals almost resort to physical violence to get a place at the front.

Such a heated atmosphere leaves King Tharandil no other choice. He is forced to order his hunters to maintain order, and they immediately comply, swords in hand. They stay in line, one wagon after another, one clan after the other, and to set a good example, he orders his own family to go to the back. Only when half of those waiting have passed does he allow Mavron to take the children to the other side.

Only he, Jamena, and Nimrond, along with a few hunters, ride into Gydland as the vanguard. Laroman and Xernot also remain behind on their side, tasked with ensuring peace and order in the king's name. At all hours of the day and night, the elves now wander through the eye of the needle, and it still takes time until even the last cow's tail disappears behind the shimmering silver gate.

They sleep through the passage, partly because Mavron poured them a bedtime tea in the evening. Hamiko and Ruthiel lie huddled together on the floor of the carriage like two squirrels in a den, lulled by the gentle rocking and poppy juice.

It's not until dawn that they awaken in a strange land. Hamiko is somewhat sobered by what he sees through the window of the float. Meadows, forest, animals, elves—somehow he had imagined Gydland differently. It looks like home here, the farms and houses built just like theirs in the countryside. Forget glass palaces with silver roofs; the residential buildings and stables are rustic and simple, yet functional, built of wood and mud bricks.

His dream of harvesting candy canes and sweet trickles of water refined with berry syrup shatters the moment he takes in his new surroundings.

However, his disappointment turns to astonishment as the day progresses, as he encounters humans for the first time in his life. At first, he thinks they're just strangeelves because their clothing resembles theirs, but then he notices striking differences, and things become exciting for him. They speak a language that's strange and unfamiliar to him, and some of the men have hair growing on their cheeks and under their mouths. Ruthiel and Hamiko have never seen anything like it before—beards trimmed or hanging a hand's breadth from their chins. Ruthiel asks in all seriousness, "Uma, do women also grow fur on their faces when they grow up?"

After just a few days, the two rascals are romping around with other elven children and the offspring of the humans from the nearby village. Curiosity abounds on both sides, and they quickly realize that the children here don't play all that differently. They're familiar with skipping, hide-and-seek, and ball throwing, and in the short time they spend together on the meadow, they quickly learn a host of new words from the Gydland vocabulary. Jamena can only marvel at the words the two tots throw around. "Please" and "thank you" would be welcome, but instead they boast about bold expressions from the animal world. Ruthiel and Hamiko have actually had enough of hiking, but once again the draft animals are harnessed and the elven folk set off for their final destination: a region assigned to them by King Barin, and so they must say "farewell" to their new playmates.

The new place offers exciting opportunities for little elflings: half-ruined buildings overgrown with wilderness practically invite you to crawl around. Monsters are sure to be hiding in the bushes, and fat rats scurry through the rafters. Here, Hamiko's hunting skills are called upon, and he doesn't leave his sister's side even a hand's breadth.

Ruthiel and Hamiko are only slightly bothered by the fact that their life in exile begins in a temporary structure, the old, dilapidated manor. Quite the opposite is true:it's exciting here, and they take every opportunity to escape the caring attention of the adults.

What does it matter if the chambers and rooms still need to be prepared? Then they just sleep in a haystack on the floor, and meals are taken by all members and staff of the court at a simple wooden table in the hall of the stable. The guard sits next to the deputy queen, the maid next to the Guards master, the laundress next to the prince and princess—Tharandil gathers everyone around one table. Partly for reasons of space, but also to show them that they belong together and will go through this difficult phase of reconstruction together. At least the preparation of the residential buildings is progressing well, and the royal family can move into their own rooms and apartments. From this point on, the rulers and servants eat separately again; in the long run, Tharandil would surely have tired of being so close to the common people.

After just a few dekare, someone else is causing Ruthiel and Hamiko to look sour. Jamena, along with other women, quickly organizes regular schooling for all the children of all ages who have traveled with them. The parents agree that, especially now during the most strenuous phase of their journey—building a city and a community—the young elves need a place to learn so they can quickly find their feet again. They also need to be out of the way and focus on other things.

There are enough teachers of all disciplines among the compatriots who have traveled with us, and after a short search, a place that is perfectly suited as a school building for the different grades is also discovered.

A large, rectangular, multi-storey tower, located a short distance from the estate grounds, is ideal. Five classrooms, one on each floor, can easily be accommodated there. Initially, there's a lack of furnishings, and everyone sits on straw and cushions on the floor. But this doesn't detract from the imparting of knowledge, and thecarpenters gradually craft chairs and desks from the wood of the trees.

In contrast to her brother, who is more interested in practical work than theory, Ruthiel immerses herself in the curriculum from the very first year of school. She has an incredibly powerful memory for her age, and she can recite short poems from memory after reading them two or three times.

And when Jamena or Mavron read them a story they've heard before and are familiar with before bedtime, Ruthiel continues the text almost word for word, with every detail. Hamiko, on the other hand, simply spins a new story into the existing tale. He's a paragon of fantasy and adventure, and his version often ends with a dead dragon and a rescued elven beauty. Strangely, the lady always bears a certain resemblance to his sister.

Mavron finds her two children, and not just them—indeed, all elven children of all ages—astonishingly flexible, adaptable, and eager to learn. Out of professional interest, he observes with great fascination how they cope with the new surroundings and settle in. He considers this process worth recording, and he meticulously records their behavior and manners in a diary, as well as how they skillfully overcome the initial hurdles.

They seem to be adjusting to their new surroundings and way of life with little effort and hardly any strain. Changes in lifestyle and surroundings, no matter how drastic, are quickly absorbed or incorporated into their daily routine. They do so completely naturally, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to simply move to a foreign country and start all over again. What he and Jamena admire most of all is the ease with which the children see the good and the beautiful, even in these difficult times, and take joy in them. While their mothers and fathersare still busy dealing with the shortcomings and problems of the new world and building homes and other essential tasks, they chase after butterflies or clap their hands in delight at the sight of a bird with its colorful plumage.

All worries, fears, and anxieties about the future seem alien to them, and they live here in their own childhood world. Family, friends, pets, manageable and familiar, and thus they have everything their little hearts desire.

Where their food, clothing, and roof over their heads come from is of interest only to slightly older adolescents, who, according to their abilities, already have to lend a hand. But the little ones jump into the day carefree every morning. Bread and soup are always on the table, and they're always full, and a patched pair of trousers or a dirty shirt is no big deal.

Although Ruthiel, Hamiko, and the other children are peripherally aware of the seriousness of the situation - what is going on in their homeland must be pretty serious if they are all rushing away from Varngond - the situation does not seem dramatic to them.

This is probably due to the fact that their parents and all the adults are working diligently to create a solid foundation for their stay in Gydland as quickly as possible. One dekare after another passes, and with each passing day, a little more normality returns to their lives. They are settling in with the lumnos, because it looks like they'll probably be staying in Gydland for a while.

The elven people return to their original, everyday habits and rhythms of life. They work, they sleep, they laugh, they celebrate, they curse, they give thanks, they resent, they rejoice, they hate and they love, children are conceived and born, and a few of them die. The gods deny these unfortunate elves a return to Pelegorn, and their bodies are buried in the soil of Gydland.

Their stay in Gydland will last fifteen summers, a long time for humans, a blink of an eye in the life of an elf. While a human child is already on the threshold of adulthood after this number of years, Ruthiel and Hamiko are still children.

From a human perspective, their physical and mental transformation takes an extremely long time, and their gradual growth is only registered by their own people because elves measure time in other dimensions.

During his exile, Hamiko experiences a life-changing event, and it strikes him right in the heart. His father, Xernot, leaves Gydland overnight, or so it seems to Hamiko, and he is left alone. The fox-hunter sees it as his duty to the "House of Sand" to assist his people, but how do you explain something like that to a child? In these days following Xernot's departure, Hamiko feels abandoned by everyone, even though Jamena and Mavron are loving parents, and even a little bit betrayed by his father.

With Xernot's departure, the war against the lizards, and thus the gruesome reality, suddenly becomes very close to him. Until now, the events on Pelegorn remained somewhere on the other side of the gate, far removed from them. Sad and grumpy, Hamiko sits around for a while, not quite sure what to do with himself. He jealously eyes Ruthiel. She's lucky; Uma and Ada are both there.

But Ruthiel can't help it; she never wanted Xernot and Laroman to leave. She cautiously stalks her grieving brother, even after he's chased her away several times. He wants to deal with this pain of abandonment and his heartache on his own, since he's already grown up and half a hunter. And then he's happy when she wraps her short arms around him to comfort him.

His thoughts constantly dwell on Xernot, and for the first time in his youth, a paralyzingfear grows within him. He is terrified of losing his father. Every messenger that arrives, every whisper he overhears between Jamena and Tharandil, makes his breath quicken and a lump forms in his throat.

“Please, please, Yormas, no bad news,” is how he ends his prayer to the gods every evening.

There are no words to describe his relief when, one fine day, Xernot suddenly appears out of nowhere at the gate of the riding arena. Hamiko howls with joy.

A few summers later, the tide turns; now it's Ruthiel who seeks his comforting presence. She desperately needs a strong arm to protect her. From what? From the strange, gray ghosts that she's suddenly been seeing in the hallways and rooms of the estate, and even outside, for the past six lumnos. Something has taken hold of her and she just won't let go. In her distress, she clings to her brother; she can confide in him; he won't spill any secrets.

What could Ruthiel want from him? She's been different than usual lately; frightened, she holds his hand whenever possible. Hamiko is seriously concerned about his sister's condition, and he's soon wiser. She promised to tell him up in the attic.

The attic of the servants' quarters is a good hiding place for children and lovers. Hamiko and Ruthiel have requisitioned a small side room for themselves, and a sign on the door indicates this.

“Attention, only Princess Ruthiel and her hunter Hamiko are allowed in here.”

The girl is already waiting for him at the foot of the steep stairs, and as quick as mice, they scurry up to the worm-eaten old entrance door and retreat to her room. Barely sitting down and wrapped in the blankets, the girl begins to talk, as if she urgently needs to get something off her chest.

"Promise me, Hamiko, not a word to Uma and Ada, or anyone else. What I am about to tell you is subject to the highest level of secrecy," she says in a serious voice.

"Of course, I'm not a chatterbox," Hamiko replies, and he's honored to be the princess's secret keeper. She can rely on him completely; he's guaranteed not to disappoint her.

She whispers to him mysteriously: "Do you sometimes see a gray shadow next to a person? Something like a dark mist right next to them."

Hamiko shakes his head and looks at Ruthiel in disbelief. He's not into otherworldly phenomena and highly spiritual things, and he certainly doesn't believe in ghosts.

"No, I only see the person themselves, and if they have a shadow, it's from the light. Have you ever considered whether your eyesight is okay? Sometimes people see things twice or blurry because they're squinting."

Great explanation, but probably wrong, and she rolls her eyes.

"My eyes are perfectly fine, and I see everything else sharply and clearly. It only happens with a few people. I don't know why these shadows appear in some people and not in others. Only when I look closely at the gray figures do I feel joy, fear, hope, or despair inside. They do this to me, and it frightens me to have their feelings inside me. But the strangest thing is, what the shadows make me feel often doesn't match what the person is currently showing on their face."

So Hamiko doesn't need any ghosts for that; he can smile when he feels like crying.

"How can I explain this? Someone is smiling at me, but the shadow makes me feel sad, or something like that. It can be two different perceptions at the same time. I see one with my eyes and maybe even hearhappy words with my ears, and I somehow feel the other with my heart."

It seems like a complicated matter, and Hamiko thinks for a while before drawing a conclusion from what Ruthiel has said: "To be honest, I have no idea what you're talking about. Maybe you should discuss this with an adult. Uma will definitely have some advice. Imagine being able to see or sense things that are invisible to others. I've heard that it's possible. It would be an advantage to know in advance when we're writing a test." This ends their meeting, because it's time for dinner, and they hurry back.

It's these misty figures in elvish body shape, she calls them cloud-elves, that she encounters from time to time in hallways and rooms, terrifying her to the core. She can't remember the exact day they first appeared on the scene, but she knows one thing for sure: no adult will believe her stories. With her childish logic, and to give herself courage, Ruthiel convinces herself that they are dreamlike figures that manage to invade the daytime. Light as delicate gauze in various shades of gray, only a single specter hovers behind an elf. Her mother would definitely dismiss the description of creatures wandering out of a little girl's head into this world as the figment of a sleep-deprived mind with the following words: "Ruthiel, you read and listen to too many fairy tales and horror stories. No wonder the cloud fairies and moor spirits are already running through your hallways. Close your eyes and sleep sooner, then your brain won't be wafting with ghosts during the day," because her daughter has the lamp burning all night and she chats and chats with Hamiko or he reads her stories from books of legends until after midnight.

It began sometime during her eighth year of elven life, and Ruthiel dismisses what she sees as a trick of her imagination or a daydream. However, the more often shesees the figures, the more she believes there must be something else. Even when she's conscious, they appear to her as a hazy figure, attached to a person. A guard or maid or servant—rank and occupation are apparently completely irrelevant; it could be any elf.

At first, Ruthiel hopes this is just a temporary phase in her development, triggered by the exuberant imagination in her mind, which finds plenty of nourishment as she and Hamiko indulge in home-spun and vivid adventure stories.

However, the creatures persist and do her no favor by disappearing. And yet she wishes they would do so badly. She must continue to endure the sight of them. Thankfully, it rarely happens, but it never stops. She's tried everything: trying to scare them away with mental words, "Get out of here," using all her willpower to think in another direction, "We're having dumplings for lunch today," or turning on her heel and running away when she sees them. All the while, she's fully aware that the gray shadow still exists, only she's just around the corner.

Finally, she gives up. It must be that she is meant to live in peaceful coexistence with the "mist-elves." And Ruthiel eventually accepts their appearance as normal, and they lose their greatest fear. Especially since they pose no danger to her, although the sight of them still gives her the creeps every time. All they do is stand motionless. They neither approach the girl nor pursue her. She also finds it remarkable that the gray ghosts only cling to certain people, as if the living person and their spirit were linked by an invisible bond.

Gray shadow creatures—that's pretty much the last thing Tharandil and Nimrond need right now. The memory of Gathame's shadow creatures, summoned as servants,would immediately spring back to everyone. Therefore, for now, it's good and right that Ruthiel remains silent about her strange ability. Her mother would react exactly the opposite of what she imagines, and would certainly not dismiss her words as the invention of an overstimulated child. Jamena would ring the alarm bells in panic, summoning all the hunters, and illuminate the entire manor house as bright as day at night.

She makes every effort to conceal her seemingly supernatural gifts, but some secrets reveal themselves. Whether one wants them to or not, because she is being watched. Her parents, as well as Tharandil and Nimrond, and indeed everyone who knows her well, notice the girl's unusual behavior, which occurs at irregular intervals.

Suddenly, her daughter freezes in mid-movement for the duration of two or three breaths. Like a rabbit at the sight of a fox, keeping her ears still and not even wrinkling her nose. Regardless of the place or time of day, whether she's sitting at the table, her hand holding the spoon hovers in the air, or she abruptly stops walking and stands still as if nailed to the spot. What's striking is that she always stares at a specific person with her eyes wide open.

Then, just as suddenly, she wakes up again and looks around questioningly, as if she had emerged from a great depth. What just happened? Where was I?

At first, Jamena and her husband cannot make sense of their daughter's unusual behavior, and Mavron's medical knowledge reaches its limits when faced with the external symptoms displayed by Ruthiel.

Jamena is worried, but she follows her husband's advice to keep an eye on the girl for now. It's probably not a contagious disease, and hopefully it will go away on its own. In the best-case scenario, it's simply a quirk of Madame's that she'll soon get over. If it gets worse, they'll obviously have to intervene.

Ruthiel's condition remains unchanged, and the entire family is now concerned about her health.Tharandil wittily remarks at a family council meeting: "Perhaps—mind you, I don't mean to scare any horses—we should consider the possibility of a previously unknown brain disease." A remark that makes Jamena gasp. Her daughter is supposedly insane or mentally disturbed? And he, of all people, is the one making that diagnosis. Does Tharandil think he's an expert on "brain damage" just because he speaks from his own experience?

Jamena vehemently rejects his suggestion to consult a spiritual healer, with a withering look in his direction. Why would a little girl have delusions and mental lapses?

Then it's more likely that there's nerve damage or muscle problems. Something of natural origin that can be cured by medical skill. Perhaps it's cramps in the limbs caused by metal poisoning. On the other hand, where would she get them from? Both children eat and drink the same thing, and Hamiko shows no unusual behavior or movement.

Ruthiel notices her parents' worried glances very well. But it's also like a curse: when she least expects the shadows, they take her by surprise. It doesn't help much that she hasn't been afraid of them for some time. She reacts because she's still a child, not a mature adult with her emotions under control. And so, every time she sees them, she stops and stares at the gray creatures with wide eyes. More fascinated than frightened, she keeps trying to make out individual details, facial features in the swirling mist. But she's only been able to do this since she learned how to use her gift of clairvoyance.

Why should she wait any longer? Before her parents despair over her health—Mavron now asks about her well-being three times a day because no one can find a plausible explanation—she wants to take the plunge.

For a few days, Ruthiel thinks about the right words and then one evening, when Jamena and Mavron are sitting together at her bedside, she tells them about the “shadow creatures”.

Her parents stare at her in disbelief. A little girl shouldharbor such powerful magical abilities—for what else could they be—at her core? Unimaginable. Rather, the story reawakens a nameless horror within them. But how would Ruthiel know about it? She wasn't even born when Hamiko was kidnapped.

Jamena runs to Tharandil and Nimrond that same night with her terrible suspicions. Similar creatures have lurked in the palace before, and perhaps, perhaps the gods forbid, they are following them to Gydland. Tharandil doesn't quite believe this, but they should keep their eyes and ears open nonetheless, and he doubles the guards in the corridors and on the estate grounds.

No child, nor anyone else, disappears inexplicably. The cloud-elves continue to appear to her, and since all the discussions within the small family circle fail to resolve the issue, they finally agree that the court magician should look into the matter. It can hardly be denied that the matter has something to do with magic.

Ruthiel is relieved; the adults believe her every word, and the wise elf is very interested. After a conversation with the girl, she develops a halfway reasonable explanation. Unfortunately, she doesn't see the figures herself, as her magical gift is different, even though Ruthieldescribes the ghost behind the kitchen maid in great detail.

In all probability, the shadow creatures are always connected to a specific person. They seem to represent an image, a shadow, of that person's inner being, their soul, and are therefore fixed to the one living body. This would also explain why they do not wander,pursue people, or harm anyone. A very logical conclusion and thus an acceptable explanation, and also good news. Tharandil is somewhat surprised by the simple solution to the riddle. He could have come up with such an idea himself. The question remains: why Ruthiel, of all people? Why was she born with such a burden? This is what Jamena initially believes to be her daughter's special ability. Why did Inana place magic in this form in her child, and what do the gods have planned for her?

A little magician

Tharandil has retreated to the large office on this rainy afternoon and has been leafing through the family chronicles for several hours.

They had to leave hundreds of books, documents, and maps behind in the palace. But they brought the slim volumes containing the names of the rulers and their immediate family, neatly listed by year and accompanied by brief notes, as well as other high-ranking figures from the "House of Trees." The librarian took care of this, and he also stored the most important documents and papers in lockable boxes for transport. All the letters from Tharandil's private safe were brought along anyway.

It was very wise of him to also put some personal mementos away for safekeeping, and also very useful at this moment. Ever since he learned about his granddaughter's talent, he's been asking himself a question: What if a powerful sorcerer or fortune-telling sylph had lived in his long family line of kings and queens?

Anything is possible, and the thought brings a smile to his face, and he eagerly turns one page after the other. However, towards evening, as it is time for supper, he has to end his search without success. In all the records,there was not a single reference to an ancestor who could have passed on this talent to Ruthiel. Disillusioned and a little disappointed, he closes the last thin book; it must have come from Mavron's page. A pity, really. He decides not to ask him; he wants to keep the illusion that the chronicler might have forgotten to note "magician" for one of their ancestors.

Ruthiel has no idea yet what responsibility her visionary abilities entail, and what it will weigh on her shoulders in a few dekare. Within her lies a power greater than the might of the High Council, stronger than any dragon, and more destructive than any lizard storm. For the good of all elves on Pelegorn, this power must be channeled into well-ordered channels. Only after years of study and intensive learning will magic be a blessing, and even then, each elf must use it only consciously and for a good purpose.

Casting a magic word, just for fun or to cause harm, is forbidden at all times, and should a magician do so, they face severe punishments. This ranges from being expelled from the Magical League and having all their memories erased by magic to being imprisoned for eternity in one of the “Towers” under the watchful eyes of the guards.

The shadowy creatures that appear to Ruthiel are merely a byproduct of what she sees, a manifestation of her gift, a manifestation of what is waiting within her to be awakened. Something far greater lies within her. Much, much more than her being able to casually and unintentionally see cloud-elves.

Every child in whom a magical seed has been planted discovers, usually before the grown up, an often unwanted and certainly uninvited special ability within themselves. This might be extraordinary mental powers, the ability to shift objects around, or, as in Ruthiel's case, theperception of shapes, or astonishing memories of places they've never set foot in this life, or of events that have never happened. Young sylphs float through time and space, believing these to be normal nighttime dreams, until the point where they recognize their gift.

These omens simply happen so that the outside world and, of course, the chosen person learns of the gift of the gods and the young elfling can follow his now predetermined path to the “Tower”.

The why, how, and wherefore are secondary to Jamena; there's no answer to that anyway. All she cares about now is: What should they do with Ruthiel now? Jamena would love to stay with her day and night, because she's worried about her daughter's mental health. Can a little girl even bear such a heavy burden and appreciate the responsibilities that come with it?

The court magician's answer is no, but her advice is easy to follow: "Vice-Queen, leave everything as it is. Things will take their course with or without your intervention, if the gods so plan. The girl can neither consciously summon nor vanish the sightings, nor interpret them. Until her training, she lacks the magic words to exert influence. She will learn to shape, use, and master the power within her being when her hour comes. Until then, I will keep a watchful eye on Ruthiel and prepare her slowly and carefully for her years in the “Tower”. Please give me your approval for my actions and my words, and do not deny your daughter her very own destiny. She will have to follow her own path."

Jamena is somewhat shocked by these statements; neither she nor Mavron had thought that far ahead. The magical gift will influence her near future and, indeed, her entire future life. After a few days of deliberation with Mavron, she gives the magician her consent. If she were in Ruthiel's place, she would be happy and relievedif someone took her by the hand and led her along a safe path.

Ruthiel enthusiastically receives the news of her new teacher. She, the little one, is now allowed to visit the great sorceress regularly, and only because she sees nebulous figures. From that day on, her initial fear and uncertainty transform into courage, curiosity, and a desire for knowledge. The “Tower” becomes her declared goal, and she already dreams of setting foot there after the Yearhouse.

But for her wish to become reality, they all have to return to Pelegorn first. Here in Gydland, there's no solid training for a budding magician, and in the last years of her stay, she prays to the gods for a speedy return. Why would they give her the power of magic if she could never use it?

Their patience is being severely tested. Fifteen summers, full of expectations and hopes, have passed, and the elves of the "House of Trees" have used the time to prepare for the big day. Their troops are well-trained, equipped with weapons and armor, and fully informed about the situation on Pelegorn thanks to their diligent spies. The King and Deputy Queen have done everything possible to ensure the reconquest and expulsion of the lizards from Varngond.

Tharandil, Jamena, and Nimrond's farewell visit to King Barin two dekare ago was short and sweet. What was there to talk about? Everything that needed to be said had already been said, and now they simply wanted to leave Gydland. As thanks for Barin's help in his greatest need, Tharandil presented him with two drinking cups made of mithril silver. A small nod to his gift from many years ago, which he never unwrapped and carried home out of shame. Barin grinned politely; he understood the gesture, Tharandil knew about it, and he wondered what else the elves had seen through them and about them.

And just as he did then, Tharandil will probably bring a request to him.

Anyone who brings a valuable gift usually has something up their sleeve and usually wants something in return.

How well he understands the art of diplomatic negotiation. Tharandil actually casually slips him in during a meeting about some matters still to be settled that a small portion of their population, less than a third of the elves, will remain in Gydland. Among them are Mavron, Ruthiel, and Hamiko. Their royal line must be preserved at all costs.

Oh no, what a surprise! Even Barin would have thought of that. He wouldn't want his crown to rest on the head of a successor who is far removed from the family. When it comes to occupying the throne, all rulers of all countries seem to have similar aspirations.

King Barin pretends that if he has to think about it for a night, it will seem more generous to say yes, and the next morning he grants King Tharandil's request to offer his people a home for eternity.

At the moment, everything is just a theoretical assumption; the people will remain in Gydland, and their promise will only come into effect if the elves lose the war. However, if no messenger appears within the next year to collect the rest, one can assume the worst. Barin, however, wants to eliminate any risk and, as a prerequisite, demands that if they settle permanently, possibly even outside their current lands, they submit to the laws of Gydland and maintain peace. Under this premise, nothing would stand in the way of a fruitful coexistence—the elves' knowledge and skills are highly sought after by the humans.

Naturally, King Tharandil and Deputy Queen Jamena give their word and also sign a contract in which every point is written down in detail. That morning, two documents change hands. Tharandil receives King Barin's promise, and in return, he hands over the old promissory note to him.

"King Barin, we thank you for your cooperation, and we haven't forgotten the contract we signed back then. All your outstanding payments have been settled, and you have paid for every grain we delivered to you. So now one hand has helped the other. Your debts to the House of Trees are now extinguished and a thing of the past."

King Barin looks at the paper for a while, as if he doesn't yet fully comprehend what he's holding in his fingers, and with a husky voice, the memory touching his heart, he addresses the group: "I would like to thank you one last time. If you had refused my request back then, we wouldn't be sitting at this table today. In recent years, we've also had the opportunity to learn much from your people, and I hope for continued cooperation. Therefore, I wish you luck and success in the battle you are now riding into. May you prevail, and afterward, I would be pleased if we could establish solid economic relations. As the basis for a lasting and mutually beneficial union between the elves and the humans."

A whisper and murmur are circulating among the elven people: "The kings have returned from Barin's court. It can only be a matter of days now before King Tharandil gives the order for the army to march."

Ever since they called on Barin, or rather said "goodbye forever," there's been unrest among the hunters and huntresses, and rumors about the timing are circulating. Everyone thinks they've heard something. It's supposed to start tomorrow, no, next dekare, no, a vanguard is already on the other side. All nonsense; neither Nimrond nor Tharandil have yet committed to a date. They hesitate, despite knowing better that their indecisionwill not go down well with the already tense hunters in the army, and will only further inflame their fierce determination to launch the assault.

“We leave in four days,” says Nimrond, and as Guards master and Supreme commander, he puts an end to the waiting.

"It doesn't matter when we die on the battlefield. Let's take the risk now." Tharandil nods his head at the sentence, but he finds the part about dying a bit too dramatic; Nimrond could have kept that to himself.

The Guards master's men tug like young horses in harness. They want to set off and run; every day they stand still further undermines the discipline of the men and women, and the waiting wears on their nerves. So why wait any longer? Why has Tharandil been swearing them to war for years with words and sometimes drastic measures, chasing the young elves through the Yearhouse in a hurry. All this rushing must have been worth it somehow. Constantly being told "we're off" and then "no, command back" is very counterproductive for the warriors' morale.

Finally, the starting signal comes in the form of a brief command and a colorful and numerous crowd of elves gathers on this rainy late summer day.

Thousands of horsemen, infantrymen, swordsmen, archers, spearmen, and escorts, as well as baggage wagons and packhorses, have been bustling around and about on the large meadow since the morning hours. Seemingly completely haphazard, yet an order quickly emerges, and two days later, they march, detachment by detachment, toward the gate to Varngond, led by their royal couple and the Guards master.

On her last night in Gydland, Jamena lies awake for a long time, lost in thought. How can Mavron sleep so peacefully? Isn't he afraid of what's to come? Jamena thinks her eyes will stay open until dawn, but then they close, and with a deep breath, she drifts off to sleep.

The evening belonged to her, and Mavron and all the family members sitting at the table smiled understandingly as she and he left immediately after supper. Tharandil and Nimrond thankfully took it upon themselves to put their grandchildren to bed. Tomorrow, early in the morning, she will say goodbye to Ruthiel and Hamiko. Briefly and quickly, so that no sentimental outbursts of emotion take hold of her. She needs a clear head and a razor-sharp wit. For the first time in her life, she has been entrusted with a large army and is responsible for the lives of thousands of elves. What do two little rascals mean? Her undertaking consumes her body and soul, leaving no room for private matters; the "House of Trees" demands her full attention and complete devotion until death.

The sight of the hunters and fox-hunters of the royal guard in their shining new armor, mounted on their magnificent horses, is hardly a distraction, let alone a comfort, for Hamiko this morning. He simply feels miserable, and Ruthiel is howling quietly to herself.

Jamena tenderly strokes both children's hair and holds them tightly. Hamiko thinks he's already a little too old for such a motherly gesture, and despite all his sadness, he's a little embarrassed. What will his friends think of him? But he lets it happen and makes his mother happy. It may be the last time she touches him so lovingly, and at the thought, his throat tightens and a sob he's been holding back bubbles up, and so her voice trembles as she speaks: "My dear children, Ruthiel, Hamiko, you are old enough to understand why I must ride with the king. Tharandil and I wear the crowns of Varngond. We have a duty to stand with our lives for our land and our people. It is up to us to lead the army from the "House of Trees" into battle so that we can regain our homeland.

I wish we had a choice, and there would be another way than letting the swords do the talking. May the gods grant that I can embrace you again in Varngond. May the gods have a good fate in store for us. Mavron will stay with you and protect you and guide you with his hand. You will follow his word and not cause him any trouble. He and I love you with all our hearts."

All that remains for them to do after these words from Jamena is to wave goodbye to her, and Mavron embraces and kisses his beloved wife tenderly, then mounts her warhorse and trots to the head of the army, where Tharandil and Nimrond are already waiting for her.

"Jamena, it's okay, everything will be okay. Your tears may flow today. Rest assured, the morning when you'll laugh again is not far off." Kind words and a well-intentioned attempt from the king to brighten her mood, and she gives him a small, pained smile in return.

A horrible thought takes hold of him. Never being able to kiss his wife again would be the ultimate catastrophe, and Mavron quickly pushes the growing panic far away. She'll come back, he firmly believes it. What else could give him hope? And until then, he has enough on his plate. Tharandil has entrusted him with another demanding and equally important task here. On the one hand, he's honored that his father-in-law is handing him the reins, but on the other, he doubts whether he's the right man for the job. His profession is medicine, less so the art of governing.

He is to lead the remaining elves' community, be their substitute king, and bring them back to Pelegorn. Assuming, of course, that they win. Should they lose, he must open the sealed envelope Tharandil gave him a few days ago. He knows what it contains: his official appointment as Regent of the "House of Trees." A small precautionary measure in case of emergency. Shouldnone of the adults entitled to the crowns return, he will hold the throne until Ruthiel and Hamiko emerge from the Yearhous.

"Ruthiel, Hamiko, come to me. We're going to the stable to see the new calves," Mavron calls. He doesn't want to stand here and watch one line of hunters after another clear the area.

He stays at the edge of the large meadow until Tharandil, Jamena, and Nimrond are out of sight—that's the way it should be. Then he takes his children by the hand, and together they walk into the stable. He urgently needs to turn his mind to something else, or tears will well up.

The next day, an idea floats around in his head. He'd like to ask Ruthiel if she's seen any misty figures behind Tharandil or Jamena. Just because the magician vaguely hinted some time ago that these might be apparitions somehow connected to the person's future fate.

In his imagination, that would then be, as an example, perhaps a cloud-elf with a sword raised high in Nimrond's hand. A victorious Guards master, so to speak; that would be desirable.

Shortly thereafter, he dismisses this stupid idea, because using the girl for his own purposes seems somewhat shabby to him. Above all, does he really want to see the future with all the consequences that would entail? And what if he acted on it, and it later turned out that his interpretation of the sighting was wrong? That would only just bring about a catastrophe, and to make matters worse, it would be of his own making.

How he even came up with such a crude idea is quite simple. In the past lumnos, ever since Ruthiel was accompanied and guided by the magician, her gift has developed further and further. She has now overcome herspeechlessness and is able to describe what goes on inside her as soon as she sees a figure. At first, she was far too frightened and overwhelmed by what was happening. With her childish mind, she could not grasp what was happening to her, what the magic was doing to her, and thus found no words to describe it. Only when the magician takes her under her wing does light shine into the darkness, and the horror becomes a useful magical gift. Every day, Ruthiel understands a little more about what slumbers within her, every day she learns a little more to live with it, and tentatively she takes the first steps into the future predetermined by the gods.

Mavron would love to run off toward a bright future. The warm summer days are passing inexorably, and now, even in the morning, a wisp of mist hangs over the damp meadows and valleys. An unmistakable sign of the onset of autumn, and to date, no news of Tharandil.

Over time, the remaining elves in the village become annoyed and complain, and Mavron can no longer bear the constant question, "Is there any news?" Sometimes he just feels like shouting, "Yes, but I'll keep it to myself." Which, of course, is both nonsense—the shouting and the silence.

Besides, if there were any, he would announce them immediately, just to put an end to the annoying questions.

Since the day they all left, the town and the estate seem deserted, and somehow he feels alone in this strange land. No Jamena, no king, and Mavron thinks this impression is reinforced by the fact that the banner no longer flutters in the wind on its flagpole. The kings left and took it with them. True, he still has a spare flag in a chest, but he's only allowed to hang it when a legitimate king reigns again. He dreads the thought that they might lose the war and he'd be forced to succeed Tharandil untilHamiko grows up and takes one of the crowns. These, by the way, were stowed in the chest along with the banner.

The daily grind of caring for Ruthiel and Hamiko, tending to his patients, and organizing everything related to their now severely diminished community takes up all his time. Mavron is grateful for any distraction, because with each day that passes without news—although, at least he tells himself, no news is good news—his nerves are frayed.

Messengers arrive in Gydland at irregular intervals, keeping him informed of developments. However, Mavron has so far waited in vain for the longed-for news, so he listens to the words and reads the delivered letters, keeping what is brought to him to himself. His small people must be patient with the news of victory and the proclamation of unimportant trivia; it only causes unrest and rumors, and is of no interest to them. After all, the news is almost exclusively good, apart from the reports of losses and the persistence of the lizards in some corners of Varngond.

Mavron is fed up with this loitering; he desperately longs for the order to depart. The weather is becoming increasingly autumnal, and rain is already softening the roads. The thought of being stuck here for another winter because the covered wagons are sinking in the mud is putting him and all his fellow residents in a bad mood. Ruthiel and Hamiko are also whining for their mother, and he could easily join in. He feels like crap, also because he's running out of explanations. How can he encourage the elves when he himself can barely muster the strength to believe in a happy ending?

Once again, a huntress is rushing through the gate to the manor. Surprisingly, in broad daylight, visible and within reach of everyone, ready to be squeezed. So far, they've come quietly, even under cover of darkness.He doubts that they'll always keep their mouths shut as ordered—only a little, but he doubts.

She hurries quickly through the entrance hall, up the stairs, skipping two steps, and flings open the door of the large office. Down at the main gate, the guards told her the steward to the throne would be there this afternoon to do some paperwork. Only here, on the threshold, does she stop, because Mavron is staring at her in surprise. In her haste, she forgot to knock, and no one announced her arrival. But in this case, it doesn't matter and is forgivable.