Elven Oath

Chapter 11

Aodhan

T he pain had dulled to a constant throb in my side, a reminder that I had been closer to death than I cared to admit. I shifted in my saddle, testing my strength. I was still weak, but I could finish this journey.

Drago's quick retrieval of the Eldara root had saved me, and for that, I was grateful, though I hadn’t been able to shake the strange sense of what had happened back there. Something had tugged me back, something more than just my willpower.

I glanced at Vevina, riding behind me. She was quiet, but the way her blue eyes darted around, told me her mind was busy, racing with thoughts.

I hadn’t forgotten the way I’d heard her voice in my mind during the fight for my life. At the time, I had been so deep in the haze of pain and poison that I thought I’d imagined it. But now? Now I wasn’t so sure.

Could it be possible that she... No. It had to be the feverish delirium from the poison. Dragon senses didn’t work like that. Not without a fully established bond, and certainly not so soon.

Still, the memory lingered like a shadow just out of reach and my dragon was unnaturally quiet today. Most likely sleeping off the effects of what tried to kill us.

Falkor’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “That attack yesterday,” he says, his tone thoughtful, “didn’t it feel... different?”

I frown, turning my attention to him. He was right. Something about the attack had unsettled me, though I hadn’t been able to place it in the chaos of battle.

Drago nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it wasn’t like the first one. They were more organized, and their tactics were strange.”

Vevina, who had been listening quietly, suddenly straightened in her saddle, her brow furrowing. “I recognize one of the swords they used,” she says softly, her voice thoughtful but laced with unease. “It was an Elf sword, the kind given to males when they come of age. Each one is designed especially for its owner.”

I feel a chill creep down my spine at her words. "An Elf sword?"

She nods, her lips pressing into a thin line. “But the sword I saw... It didn’t belong to the man who was using it. I know whose sword that is, and the one wielding it wasn’t the rightful owner.”

Drago curses under his breath, his sharp gaze flicking over to me. “You think it was stolen?”

"Or worse," Falkor adds, his voice dark with suspicion.

Vevina looks troubled, her eyes narrowing as she thinks back to the skirmish. “There was something else off about them too,” she says slowly. “They didn’t move like trained Elves. Their stances, the way they handled their weapons... it was rough, unrefined.”

She was right. The attackers hadn’t fought like Elves. I had thought maybe they were rebels, but now I wasn’t so sure. “One of the men I fought spoke a language I didn’t recognize,” I add, my voice low. “It wasn’t Elvish, and it sure as Hades wasn’t Draconic.”

Drago nodded in agreement, his expression grim. “Now that you mention it, there was something strange about the way they communicated with each other. It wasn’t just Elves.”

We all fall silent for a moment, the realization settling over us like a heavy weight. These weren’t just Elven rebels dissatisfied with the peace the marriage was supposed to bring. There was something else at play here. Something far more dangerous.

“They weren’t Elves, at least not all of them,” Vevina says, her voice filled with certainty. “There’s no way they could have been.”

I clench my jaw, anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Then who are they? And why are they trying to stop us?” The uneasy tension in the air grew thicker as the truth became clearer. Whoever was behind these attacks, they weren’t just against this marriage. They were something bigger. A threat none of us had anticipated.

“We need to stay alert,” I say, my voice steely. “If these aren’t Elves, then we have no idea what we’re really up against.”

Falkor gives me a nod, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Agreed. Whatever this is, it’s not over.”

We ride in silence for a while, each of us lost in our thoughts. What we thought was a simple rebellion from the Elves might have been something much darker, something lurking in the shadows of this fragile peace.

And in the midst of it all, there was Vevina. A woman I had only just begun to know, but already she had proven herself more than just a symbol of peace.

She had fought beside us, saved me when I was on the brink of death, and now she was tangled in the same dangers that threatened to unravel everything we’d been trying to achieve.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this bond was going to test us both in ways neither of us had imagined.

Vevina

We ride in silence for a while longer, the trees thickening around us as the forest swallows the path behind us.

Aodhan rides in front of me, his back straight despite the fact that I know he’s still weak. Every so often, I catch him wincing when he thinks no one is looking.

I knew I had to say something, needed to tell them about what had happened with my dagger. It wasn’t normal, and if they didn’t already suspect that something strange was going on with me, they would soon. I wasn’t sure I understood it myself, but maybe together we could figure it out.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself, before speaking up. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Aodhan turns slightly in his saddle, glancing back at me with those sharp golden eyes. Falkor and Drago slow their horses too, curious. The three of them ride even closer, forming a tight group as we move slowly through the trees.

“What is it?” Aodhan asks, his voice calm but laced with concern.

I bite my lip, trying to find the right words. “During the attack yesterday... my dagger... it changed.”

Drago raises an eyebrow, his face full of curiosity. “Changed? What do you mean?”

I take another breath, feeling the weight of their attention on me. “It wasn’t just a dagger anymore. When I pulled it out, there was this flash of light, and it... extended. It became a sword. A sword light enough for me to use.”

Aodhan’s eyes narrow, and he glances at Falkor and Drago, who both look as stunned as I feel. “That doesn’t sound like any magic I’ve ever heard of,” Drago says slowly, scratching his chin. “And trust me, I’ve heard of a lot.”

Falkor, for once, doesn’t have a joke or a quip ready. He looks serious, thoughtful even. “Are you sure it wasn’t some kind of trick or illusion? Sometimes in the heat of battle, things can seem different.”

“No,” I say firmly, shaking my head. “It wasn’t an illusion. I felt it in my hands. The weight, the power. It was real.”

Aodhan was silent, his expression unreadable. He was thinking, I could tell, but he wasn’t dismissing me. He believed me, or at least he was considering the possibility that what I was saying could be true.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he says, his voice softer now, more coaxing.

I swallow hard, trying to recall every detail. “When I pulled the dagger out, I felt this... surge. Like something inside me woke up. Then there was a flash, and the blade just... grew. It became this long, slender sword, but it felt light in my hands, as if it was made for me.”

Aodhan exchanges another look with Falkor and Drago, the three of them clearly thinking through what I’d said. “And this sword... you’ve never seen it before?” Aodhan asks.

“No, never,” I reply. “It was just a simple dagger, a ceremonial one. Nothing special really.”

Falkor frowns, his brow furrowing. “It doesn’t sound like ordinary Elf magic. Elf blades are crafted with intent, but they don’t just change form like that.”

Drago nods. “And it wasn’t the magic of dragons either. We can forge weapons with magic, yes, but they don’t shift in battle without some kind of specific enchantment. That’s ancient magic you’re talking about.”

Ancient magic. The words echo in my mind, sending a chill through me. I had never thought of myself as having any special power.

I wasn’t trained in the magic arts like the scholars back in the castle. I didn’t have the strength of a dragon or the natural-born prowess of warriors like Aodhan and his friends.

“I don’t know why it happened,” I admit, feeling a strange mixture of vulnerability and frustration. “But it did. I wasn’t imagining it.”

Aodhan’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see curiosity, but also concern. He wasn’t afraid, but he seemed cautious. “I believe you,” he says quietly. “But we need to understand what this means.”

I nod, though I wasn’t sure what to think myself. What did this mean? Was there something more to me than I had ever known? Some ancient magic tied to my bloodline, my people?

Then Falkor speaks, breaking the tension in the air. “Well, if you’re going to wield a magical, self-extending sword, I suppose it’s better it happened while saving our hides, eh?” He grins, but there was a seriousness behind his usual humor.

Aodhan didn’t smile, though I could see a faint twitch of amusement in his eyes. “If there’s something deeper at work here, we’ll figure it out. But for now, Vevina, be cautious. Magic like this doesn’t just appear without reason.”

I nod, a weight settling in my chest. He was right. This wasn’t normal, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was happening, it wasn’t just coincidence.