The Halfblood King: Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 Carpathday, Day 4, Sowing Moon, 8757, Sudean Calendar

Aleron sat with legs dangling over the side of the wooden bridge.  His friends Barathol and Geldun were there beside him.  All three had their fishing poles in hand, lines dangling into the languid flow of the river below them.  Cork bobbers tugged at the ends of the lines, attempting to follow the current out to sea.  Steel hooks lurked inside balls of dough, infused with bacon grease, several inches below the surface, as the boys attempted to lure the local river carp to their demise.  If they caught anything, the boys’ mothers would complement them upon their triumphant return.  The other two, that is, Aleron barely remembered his parents.  He lived with his grandfather and cousin, and they were the only family he had in the world.  His cousin Jessamine, was much older, in her twenties in fact, and had lost her parents during the plague, before Aleron was born.  His grandfather Hadaras, was old, maybe sixty or so, but had an ageless quality that was difficult to define.

Of the three boys, Aleron was the youngest, not quite past his twelfth year, but he was the tallest, as well as the brightest, of the three.  He was usually cast as the ringleader for their endeavors, both legitimate or not.  The exception being when they fell into trouble with the older boys in the village, then Barathol took over.  Though not as tall as Aleron, he was much stouter and quite adept with his fists.

Aleron had not always lived in the village,  only moving there about three years prior. They lived alone in the forest, far to the north, until one day Grandfather stated that they should move to a town, so Aleron could learn about other people.  He didn’t always like the things he learned about other people.  Geldun and Barathol were the only boys his age in town, and he quickly joined their alliance against the cruel older boys of the village.

One day, somewhere near his ninth birthday, he wandered home with a bloody nose and a bruised cheekbone; they hadn’t been able to outrun the older boys that time.  Jessamine set immediately to cleaning up the bloodied, teary-eyed youth, attempting to comfort his bruised ego, as well as his physical injuries.  Grandfather looked at him and, with kind amusement in his eyes, said “It looks like it’s time for you to learn how to fight.”  From that day forward, Grandfather spent one or two bells each day teaching Aleron fighting techniques.  He claimed to have been a soldier once, long ago, and to have lived many years among the elves, learning from them as well.  The training started with simple punches, kicks and grapples, progressing over the years to more advanced techniques for subduing an opponent, as well as various weapon forms.

Though Grandfather warned him not to reveal too much of what he learned to those outside the family, he felt the need to practice with boys more his own size and he showed what he learned to his two close friends.  As it turned out, Barathol was a natural talent, taking to the techniques like a fish to water, and quickly surpassing Aleron in skill, while Geldun proved to be of middling talent, though solid in his tenacity.  The boys often dreamed of leaving their small village of farmers and woodsmen, to become sailors or soldiers for the Kingdom of Sudea; still a kingdom though it had no king for over a thousand years.  Their town was only a few miles from the coast, so all three of them had seen the navy ships moored at the bay, and the sailors swaggering through the streets of the port city, dropping coin like it was their last day with the living.

Though Grandfather didn’t appear to have any particular line of work to apprentice Aleron to, he encouraged Aleron to help the neighbors whenever possible.  Aleron especially liked helping the woodsmen, because that had been his father’s trade, and it gave him a sense of connection to the man he had but fleeting memories of.  When townsfolk became curious about Hadaras’ apparently comfortable retirement, they were told he was a retired soldier who had been generously rewarded during his time of service, who decided to move to the countryside in order to better raise his orphaned grandchildren.  Aleron’s companions were both the sons of farmers, and days like today were becoming rare, as their responsibilities at home consumed more of their time.  It was widely assumed that Aleron, not having a trade to follow his father into, would be the one most likely to take to the sea or join the army.

Hadaras watched the boy leaving that morning, and thought of how much Aleron reminded him of his daughter, Audina, who had given birth to the boy.  He was tall for his age, and had inherited the golden brown hair and silver eyes of his mother, as well as her stubborn streak.  The lad had it in his mind that he would become a soldier or a sailor, and there was no detracting him from that line of thinking, though Hadaras was certain that he was destined for far greater things than that.  He thought back on that day, over fifteen years ago, when his daughter announced that she was getting married:

“Father, I have decided to be married.”  She told him

“That is certainly good news.”  He replied.  Audina had been born in the colonies, well after the Great War, so she was relatively young, but at five centuries of age, it was about time she chose a mate.  “Do I know him?”

“I’m sure that you do Father; he is from a fine old family.”

“Good, what is his name, and what family?”

“Valgier, of House Sudea,” she replied frankly.

Hadaras’ demeanor took on a dark cast, as he stated, “That is a human, who does not even know the house to which he is heir to.  House Sudea is extinct, as far as men are concerned.  I have already determined that he is not the one.”

“I am aware of that, Father, and I have been watching him since he was a babe, just as you have.  I have seen that I can love him, for he is pure of heart, and a vision has told me that he is to be the sire of the one.”

“And what makes you believe that you are to be the mother of the one?  I have watched this family for nearly a thousand years, ever since I discovered the bastard nephew of Algaric’s, the son of his dead brother, living on the streets of Arundell.  I have waited since, for the right time, and the right heir, to come together.  I have worked all these years to assure the family remains far from power, to avoid any inopportune discovery of their birthright.  What makes you think you know better?”

“Father, the prophecies have all stated that a millennium will pass before a new king rises to the throne.  If the heir is to be born, it must be soon.” She said.

“The prophecies were not that specific; they were all written to say “millennia” not precisely how many.  Plus, they say nothing of how you are to be involved.”  He retorted.  “I should know, I wrote some of them myself!”

“Though I realize why you hide who you are from our people, it does not change the fact that we are of the royal house of Elvenholm, and you abdicated the throne in favor of your younger brother.  A child of this union would reestablish the half-elven royal line, with greater legitimacy than ever before, having blood ties to both Royal House Sudea and Royal House Elvenholm.”  She replied coolly.  “In addition, the vision came to me, because it pertained to me.  Perhaps you should seek revelation as it pertains to you, Father, as to whether what I tell you is true or not.  Regardless, my decision is made, and I will be journeying to Sudea soon.”

Hadaras often thought of that fateful day, and of those that followed, when he would pass through, posing as an itinerant craftsman, plying his wares to the remote villages.  Valgier never knew it was his father-in-law who stopped by every few months, selling tools and trinkets, repairing tack, and shoeing horses and mules as needed, though the old farrier always took an interest in how Aleron was doing.  Hadaras thought most of all about the day he had been too late to save them from the Kolixtlani assassin who murdered the young couple.  The agents of the Adversary knew of Aleron’s existence, and though they may not know that he is anything but a halfblood, that would be enough for them to want him.  Halfbloods often developed frightening powers, when the pure spirit of the elf blended with the impure heart of the man.  A halfblood sorcerer could master both dark and light aspects of magic, and they were highly sought after by the Nameless One during his time in power.  This casting about for them by his agents indicated an increase in his power.  The old wards of binding had weakened after all these years.   He renewed them after the murders, travelling in secret through the jungle to Immin Bul, but he was certain the Adversary would find some way around them eventually.

By mid-afternoon, Aleron was on his way home with two good-sized carp dangling from a stringer.  They were having a good haul, but his friends needed to return home for their chores.  Aleron needed to get back home as well, and to get the fish cleaned quickly.  Grandfather promised to start teaching him an elvish dual-scimitar form that looked viciously effective when he demonstrated it yesterday.

 Read Chapter 2 at:                                 https://julianbenoit.wordpress.com/2014/02/15/the-halfblood-king-chapter-2/