Chapter Four

Elion was bored. Mnementh Shaceran, her tutor, was almost as ancient as the stars in the sky. He had probably lived through the history he was teaching her.

"And so when Axylia the Brave climbed and settled the great mount Starlijt, many elven wanderers joined her in creating the great sky city we now know as Skyfall..."

He droned on in a monotonous voice. Elion sighed quietly, twirling her turquoise swan feather quill in her fingers. Imagine what would happen if Izzarel became friends with Ithronel... How would that work? Her eyes glassed over as she began to imagine this unlikely union.

"Miss Elion?"

Mnementh's musty voice cut through her reverie. Her head jerked up, and she shook herself back into the real world

"Hmm? Sorry, Tutor Shaceran, I didn't catch that."

Her tutor sighed.

"I said, when did the Great War end?"

There was a sharp edge to his voice

"Oh! Uh, Spring of Four, Age of... Explorers."

"Wrong. Spring of Four, Age of Weaponsmiths. Do try to pay attention." The words were laced with irritation. He pursed his lips disapprovingly. "Haven't you been taking notes?"

Elion glanced down at the piece of parchment in front of her. It was blank. He looked at her over his bushy eyebrows.

"Well, start now."

He turned back to the blackboard. Then he continued to speak.

"Repeat after me; Midwinter of Three, Age of Weaponsmiths, Great War started. Spring of Four, Age of Weaponsmiths, Great War ended."

Elion repeated the sentence flatly.

Sounds of swords clashing came from the courtyard below. She peered out from the open window. The junior warriors were practising their duel-wielding and perfecting new archery tricks. Elion loved to watch them practice. She learnt so many techniques and tricks that she could use to show off to the others. She rocked back on her chair to get a closer look.

"The war was won by two elves and a dwarf on the Idos of the midwinter, which incidentally is soon. Who were these three heroes?"

Mnementh turned towards where Elion sat. An empty chair stared back at him. His bushy eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"Elion..." he growled.

She was sitting on the roof outside the window, watching. The junior warriors had moved onto duelling, with bluntened swords. They slashed and parried, moving so fast that their arms blurred into a flurry of motion. Elion watched admiringly. She wished she could fight like that. She wished she could serve in the Elven Army. She wished she could train with them. They were all her age - up to seventeen years old, the youngest only twelve. They were trained to become the finest warriors in the land, and next year, they would be sent off as a group to fight the elves' wars.

"Elion Triszeiros!" Her tutor's angry face appeared round the window. "You just come back here right now, or else."

"Uh oh." Elion muttered. She jumped up and ran along the roofline. Turning back, she saw the ancient elf clamber out onto the roof, running at her surprisingly fast. Don't look back, just run.

She could see her escape route; a tall, sturdy tree with knots and gnarls all over it. She accelerated. But time, it appeared, slowed down. Her foot caught on a loose roof tile, and she tripped, landing on her knees. A small crystal phial flew up into the air, pinging as it bounced on the edge of the precipice. Elion reached forwards desperately. Her fingers grasped at empty air, the little bottle just out of her reach. She scrambled up, running forwards. The phial fell. Elion didn't even think twice; she launched herself over, seized it, and clawed at the edge. she felt her fingers slipping.

"No no no," she pleaded, "oh no."

She fumbled at the edge, willing her fingers to hold. She felt herself falling, plummeting down to the ground below...

Her back made contact with the stone courtyard below with a loud crack, knocking the wind out of her. She pushed herself up, struggling for breath, before collapsing down again. A loose roof tile dropped down, glancing off her forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut in pain. Her mouth tasted hot and metallic. Elion reached a hand up and touched her forehead. Her fingers came away wet and sticky with blood.

When Elion at last looked up, she saw Mnementh striding towards her. She rubbed her forehead, just above her nose, with her thumb. His brows were furrowed in a large, wiry tangle, and his eyes flashed menacingly. He grabbed her by the collar of her shirt. The collar rubbed against her neck as he dragged her off the floor, and towards the palace. Her chest heaved as she struggled to draw in breath, feet stumbling to keep up with her tutor. A drop of blood landed on the path. Elion tried to ignore her throbbing head, and not think of what her father would do to her. The glass bottle became slippery in her sweating palms, so she fumbled around to find a pocket to put it in, allowing herself to be dragged forwards towards the throne room.

Taranth looked up as the doors burst open, and Mnementh entered, dragging Elion behind him. Her tutor let go of her, sending her skidding towards the shiny floor, unable to stop herself sliding. He bowed briefly.

"Milord."

The king stood up, eyes angry and eyebrows furrowed.

"What now..." he growled. Elion opened her mouth to speak, but her voice just came out as a soft wheeze.

Her tutor dropped to one knee.

"She ran out from my lesson again, sire."

Taranth turned his angered gaze to her.

"Elion..." he sternly spoke, in a voice so deadly-quiet Elion had to strain to hear. "Is this true?"

Elion coughed weakly, frustrated. Already, she knew her father would not see her point.

"Yes, but-"

"I do not care, Elion, about your excuses."

"But Father, I don't need lessons any more!"

"Yes you do."

"I don't-"

"I say you still need lessons, so you do."

"How come Ithronel doesn't have to have them too?"

"Your brother is older."

"Only by three years!"

"Ithronel is the future KING of this land, he has other things to learn too."

"So because he's a boy? Because he's a prince, not a princess?"

"No."

"Because he's your first child, not your second?"

"No-"

"No, I didn't think so. I've always known he was your favourite, but I didn't know that changed so much."

"That makes no difference!"

"So it's true?"

"I never said that-"

"Yes you did, you just did!"

Taranth stood slowly from the ornate wooden throne and took slow steps towards her. He raised his hand and brought it fast across her blood-soaked cheek.

"Do not interrupt me."

The King's voice was deadly quiet. Elion reeled backwards, cheek stinging and head throbbing, and struggled to her feet.

"Father, it's pointless. I've learnt everything I need to know already! Teach me how to fight. How to work. Stop controlling me, I hate it, and you know it!" Her voice lifted to a shout. "You know what I hate and you know what I like! And all you can do is force me to do what I despise and separate me from all that I love!

"How dare you!" Taranth shook with anger, his body vibrating. "Get out of my sight!"

"Fine!"

Her head span as, ignoring the sharp pain in her chest and head, she walked slowly towards the grand doors. Resisting the urge to slam them behind her, she walked slowly, painfully, towards the inner castle. Her vision was cloudy and blurred. Elion leaned against the corridor wall and blinked hard, but she could see no clearer. Disorientated, she staggered towards her bedroom. She leant on the doorframe, breathing heavily. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she fell towards the floor...