Daigu: Book II of the Elvestran Chronicles

By Cara J. Swanson

Two hundred years after facing down the deadly, power-hungry Blood Cult, Elvestran half-breed Lilim Aubergain believes she finally has life figured out. She has the respect and trust of the Elvestran's most esteemed leader, a successful medical practice, and even a new budding romance.

But trouble is brewing far to the west, and once again Lilim will have to go up against the only Mage as powerful as she; her own sister, Lamía. Long since banished across the ocean, Lamía is no longer content to hide away in the tree-top city of Elvhíí Ysla and nurse her anger. She has harnessed the power of the most feared Wizard ever known and is coming out of the shadows with a vengeance.

Her first target; the Elvestran's tiny underground cousins, the Daígu.

This exciting sequel to Blood Cult continues the
thrilling Chronicles of the Elvestra.

2nd Edition - 2013

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cara J. Swanson
• Release date: Nov 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311879455

Cara J. Swanson

As the owner of Nighthawk/Raven Publishing, I offer services to other self-publishing authors such as editing, proofreading, book design, layout, and formatting, ghostwriting, and self-publishing consultation. I have published five books, to date, through my company. I have also ghostwritten one fiction and one nonfiction novel, and edited many others.As an independent writer, I have written two fiction novels; one non-fiction guide; and have three more fiction novels in the queue.

Book preview

Prologue

July 1831

Lamía Iforlana watched with tight-lipped rage as the pier slipped into the distance. She could just barely see the tall, slender form of her blond half-sister, Lilim Aubergain. Supposed half-sister, that was; Lamía still didn’t believe that her mother would ever have deigned to lay with a human, much less live with one for nearly five years as Lilim claimed.

Regardless, Lilim had somehow managed to take Lamía’s powers away. She felt stripped raw, her mind and soul still aching from the spiritual ravaging she had endured several months before. She was no longer a Blood; in fact, she was now barely an Elvestran. All that remained of her proud, elegant lineage were the tiny scars atop her ears and her wild, sensual beauty.

At least Lilim had not been able to take that away. Lamía’s ears were bobbed and her magic was gone, but only a fool would ever mistake her for a human. Even now – her long auburn hair dirty and tangled, her dress old and torn, with hardly a belonging to call her own – the sailors and other passengers couldn’t stop casting furtive glances her way.

Lilim watched the ship steaming away beginning the long journey to the American colonies far across the ocean. Lamía’s anger was visible even from this distance. Yet even in her complete state of rage, she stood tall and dignified exuding grandeur and nobility. The girl’s overblown sense of self-importance was not as easy to see, but Lilim had experienced it all too well over the past few months.

She sighed, turning away from the painful sight of her half-sister’s banishment. It was a long journey back to the Guardian’s Cave where her father and his new Daígu wife awaited news of her success.

Lilim wondered if her mother would still be there as well. The Guardians had been welcoming to Lillith despite the woman’s past, but Lilim doubted she would still be in the Cave. No, Lillith was too used to her world of elegant parties and delicate crystal glasses full of expensive liqueurs to be comfortable for long with the task-oriented, blue-collar Guardians. Lilim personally had found the Cave to be much more comfortable and comforting than the ‘outside’ world of the humans. The Cave was a self-contained ecosystem, a bubble where the cares and torments of the outside world seemed to disappear.

Lilim hefted the road-worn pack that had already seen so much onto her aching back and set off down the pier. One foot in front of the other would take her back to the Cave; one step at a time would put her life back together. It was time to go home.

Part I - Spring

Chapter 1

The Daígu City of Ixtrana

Her Majesty Queen Feliciata Stonefall Melinia Helis, Royal Mother of the Daígu, Leader of the Beryl Clan, and last of her line, sat tall on her ornate iron throne. She looked down her nose at the shackled Elvestran sitting in a pile on the marble steps below her. Two guards, hands ready on their short swords, stood on either side of the prisoner.

You were caught pilfering our food stores and thieving our supplies, Queen Feliciata declared. As an alien subject, you have been brought before the High Court to plead your case. What say you, prisoner?

The prisoner straightened up and attempted to look superior, but his shaking and sweating – results of a night spent in the deep stone hole that was the Royal Jail ruined the effect. "I answer to no anoŭk ípel, he sneered. I answer only to King Luaireagan, and as His Royal Subject, I demand that you release me."

Queen Feliciata snorted, Somehow I don’t think Luaireagan is too eager to get you back. I do know how to read, Elvestran.

The prisoner flushed (as much as is possible to an Elvestran) and belatedly tried to hide his left hand where the symbol for Thief in the ancient language of Ûaş was branded on the back.

You have several options, the Queen continued. You can go before the Justice Court and risk being sentenced to hard labor in our mines; that would mean nights and days spent in the deepest underground pits we have. Or you can plead guilty now, and we will keep you working in the laundry, which being vented to the outside, is the nearest you’ll get to being Above. What say you?

The prisoner bowed his head, slumping down in resignation and misery. I plead guilty, he muttered.

Fine, Feliciata said pleasantly. You will go before the Justice Court on the morrow for final sentencing. She gestured to the guards, Take him to the holding cells. Make sure the Steward is informed as to the results of these proceedings.

The two dwarves bowed and dragged the Elvestran away as the Queen shook her head.

Elvestrans, she said, annoyed. They never learn.

Maybe this one’ll learn his lesson now, eh, Your Majesty? The Vizier suggested absently. He stood behind and slightly to the right of the throne as he did every Court day overseeing all proceedings that took place and providing any advice the young Queen might need.

The Queen harrumphed, Doubtful. We’ll be seeing that one again, I guarantee it. She placed a hand on her lower back, stretching until the vertebrae popped. Ooh, she sighed. This damn throne is killing me. What happened to the old oak one?

That has been placed in storage, Highness, the Vizier replied. You decided it was too informal for the High Court.

Shoot! The Queen grimaced, Stupid me. She rested her chin in her hand, looking out at the numerous dwarves who were crisscrossing the Great Hall across from her throne dais. Merchants bringing cloth and goods to the Royal House, barrels of food and drink on their way to the kitchens, and a mélange of metalworkers, Royal Servants, courtesans, assistants, and scribes all made the Great Hall and its accompanying High Court a busy place. Oddly enough, Queen Feliciata went mostly unnoticed. Not that anyone would ever be purposefully rude to the Queen of the Daígu. Occasionally a servant or scribe would look up and grace her with a Good day, Your Majesty, and a hurried bow or curtsy to which she would smile graciously. But this hall where she had, for some reason she could no longer recall, chosen to have her High Court was the only passageway between the Royal District (in which was housed the Justice Court, the entrance to the mines and smithies, the nursery, and the self-enclosed Royal Family Quarter), and the Common District where the majority of the dwarves lived and where all other activities where housed. Originally in centuries past, what was now the Royal District had been the entire city; a self-contained underground network of natural caves and dwarf-created passageways with the Great Hall being the only entranceway. As the city expanded and people gradually moved outside the original complex, the Common District was created. The result was that any dwarf in Ixtrana having any kind of business whatsoever with any part of the Royal Section had to pass through the Great Hall, many of them multiple times a day as they went about their tasks. Naturally they could not greet her each and every time, and as a reasonable person she would never expect them to.

But Queen Feliciata now felt even more ineffectual than before she had reconvened the High Court, which had not been done since the time of her mother’s mother. At first, locating High Court in the Great Hall had seemed like a fabulous idea. Queen Feliciata had fancied that she would be able to keep an eye on her people, to help out with the day-to-day ministrations that her Vizier had assured her were extremely mundane and boring, and in general, to remind everyone that she existed. The excitement, however, had long since worn thin, not just for herself but for her subjects as well. Now, she thought glumly, she was just as much a part of the background as the ancient tapestry behind her. Why, no one had even looked in this direction while she was counseling the thief! Simply the novelty of an Elf should have been enough to elicit some glances her way, but nothing.

The Queen sighed heavily and shifted in her seat. Maybe she was just a figurehead as much as she didn’t want to admit it. She knew the Vizier would have taken care of the prisoner perfectly well had she not insisted on counseling him personally. She also knew the Royal City would function just fine without a High Court; it had done so for decades before she came along. When she had decided to get her hands dirty – this was the same desire that made the hall seem like a great place for High Court – she had imagined long meetings with merchants, advising the metalworkers, inspecting the smithies; in short, having a hand with the day-to-day workings of her city. Yet after two weeks of mind-numbing conferences, trip after dirty trip through yet another workshop, and inspecting tools that she didn’t even know the names of – well, she had finally thrown in the towel. Much to the relief of the Counsel and the Vizier, she had turned control back over to them and limited herself to sitting on the throne and watching the crowds go by. At least they let me pretend for a while, she thought to herself. They were kind enough to let me figure it out for myself, rather than coming right out and telling me that I’m useless.

After several hours of thoughts of her own inadequacies, she could no longer recall why it had seemed so important to sit on an uncomfortable throne and watch her people walk by. In fact, with nothing to do but look at her busy subjects, all with jobs to do, tasks to accomplish, and families to support, she began to feel downright ill. Bracket, I’m not feeling very well; I think I’ll go lie down for a while, she said finally to the Vizier.

Of course, Majesty, he said smoothly. I hope you feel better.

Thanks, she sighed, sliding off the throne. At least she didn’t have to use the main hallways to get to her rooms, which would have meant upsetting the flow of traffic while everyone was forced by protocol to stand aside as she passed. She had her own door behind the tapestry, which was cleverly hung just far enough off the wall to allow her to slide behind it. She walked slowly down the dark private passageway that led directly to the Royal Family Quarter, her shoulders slumped in resignation. There were scant few torches back here, but her feet knew the way automatically.

Her handmaiden, Sorina, looked up as Feliciata entered the bedroom. The young maid, wearing the standard uniform of a personal servant to the Royal Family, curtsied as well as she could with her arms full of dirty linens. I was just changing the bedding, Highness.

That’s fine, Feliciata replied wearily. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.

May I get you something, m’Lady? Handmaid Sorina inquired. You haven’t had your Nooner yet.

Feliciata threw herself face down on her bed ignoring her own usual standards of behavior in front of servants. She shook her head, mumbling something about a nap. Sorina curtsied again and left Feliciata to her misery.

By Daígu standards she may still be young, but she certainly wasn’t a teenager anymore yet she hadn’t felt this powerless and unhappy since her adolescent mood swings, the last of which was over thirty years past. So many years of classes on leadership, courtesy, diplomacy, on negotiating treaties between warring parties, and discussions of high finance, and she finally realized now that all of it had been nothing more than a ploy to appease a little girl who fancied herself important.

I’m nothing, she thought miserably, letting herself sink completely into a disgusting but incredibly satisfying pool of self-pity. I’m less important than Sorina – if she died at least she would be missed. She at least has things to accomplish each day, some reason to get up in the morning. If I disappeared no one would even notice!

Feliciata rolled over, throwing an arm over her face in an exaggerated pose of misery. Maybe I should just disappear, she thought viciously. Just ride away on a stolen steed, like girls are always doing in those silly romance scrolls that Mother loved so much. If she hadn’t died I wouldn’t even be in this stupid mess. I could be doing something worthwhile with my life, like, um… like….

At this, her imagination failed her completely and she drifted into an unhappy sleep. She did not notice when Sorina entered quietly, removing Feliciata’s court slippers and sliding a pillow under her head. She didn’t even notice when her gentle handmaiden wiped the tears from Her Majesty’s cheeks.

Sorina

Chapter 2

Sorina

Her Highness is not feeling very well, Sorina Hyal said to Cook. She won’t be wanting her Nooner.

Cook looked down at the grilled firebird he had just finished preparing. But she always eats so well, he complained.

Save it for Eventime, Sorina suggested. She won’t mind; she’s not like her sister.

Isn’t that the truth, Cook sighed. Well, thanks for letting me know. I hate to waste good food.

My pleasure, Sorina winked, grabbing a redfruit out of a bowl and dropping it in her pocket as she left. Cook took good care of all the servants, and in return, they did their best to make his job easy.

She walked quickly down the passageway towards the laundry, whistling to herself cheerfully. A distant cousin of the Royal Family, she had been trained from birth to serve whichever sister should become Queen. As a child, she had dreaded the life she foresaw – the older sister, Laurana, the one intended to become the next Queen of Ixtrana, was a horror. She made young Sorina’s life miserable at every opportunity. Even though a child could not be a servant, and so by all rights Laurana had no say in how Sorina spent her days, the young Queen-to-be had insisted that the girl’s training include waiting on her hand and foot. Laurana and Feliciata’s mother, Queen Esmeralda, had allowed it for nearly three months. Then one day Sorina’s mother complained that her daughter was coming home bruised and distraught because of Laurana’s constant abuse. Although not royalty, Sorina and her family were cousins, and Esmeralda had for once disregarded her older daughter’s wishes. Laurana had thrown a weeklong tantrum, but her mother had ignored her and finally the Queen-to-be forgot about Sorina moving her torments on to some other poor soul.

Sorina had blessed her good fortune, but at the time had believed it was just a reprieve until she became a servant on her eighteenth birthday. But when Sorina was fifteen Queen Esmeralda had died suddenly, and when her will was read – well, that had made all the difference in the world.

It was common for the Queen to leave a will, even though all belongings were technically property of the Royal Family as a whole. Normally the retiring or dying monarch would select certain family members to receive treasured jewelry, reward loyal servants, and the like.

However, Esmeralda’s will had been a shocker. She had stated clearly that Laurana was not to take the throne upon her death – it was to pass instead to her second and youngest child, Feliciata. Naturally, Laurana had thrown a fit. Having been training to take over since puberty, she knew that it was in her rights to demand that the Justice Court be specially convened to read the will and decide on its legality. She had done just that, and to her surprise it was found to be completely binding. Apparently there was a very old, nearly forgotten law that stated simply that any Monarch could declare their successor as long as that named person was of the proper lineage.

After Feliciata was crowned, the Head Justice had divulged to her that Esmeralda had queried them before writing her will just to make sure it was legal. Once Laurana saw that she had no recourse, she settled willingly into a life of visiting with the wives of dignitaries, sampling exotic foods, and gossiping with the other members of the Family. Feliciata had been rushed through the rulership classes she had not received when she was just the second sister, and had happily imagined that she would actually now be crowned Queen.

Through all this excitement, Sorina had been in the background; breathlessly waiting to find out which sister she would spend the rest of her life serving. When Feliciata was crowned Sorina had been as ecstatic as the new Queen herself.

It’s not that I want to spend my life picking up someone else’s dirty clothes, she had mentioned to her mother. But if I have to I’d much rather it be Feliciata’s clothes than Laurana’s.

Sorina swung around the corner into the laundry, still whistling her little tune. Ho, Neus, she called out to the Laundry Overseer. The elderly man raised a hand in greeting as she passed by.

The laundry of each member of the Royal Family was done by the personal servants, and although as the Queens’ Own Handmaid Sorina could have passed laundry duty off to someone lower, she saw no reason to. She enjoyed visiting with Neus and hearing the gossip of which the ancient Daígu was so fond.

Guess what I heard, Neus called to her from his chair as Sorina gathered up the clean bed linens from the stone soaking tub.

What’s that, she responded absently, having been asked this many times before.

There’s a new prisoner in the holding cells, Neus said excitedly. That’s nice. Sorina replied not really listening as she hung a blue satin bed sheet on the drying line. Neus’ grandnephew worked in the prisons and fed his uncle daily updates. But get this, Neus continued. This one’s not Daígu!

Sorina straightened up looking around for more hanging pins. What is it, a desert hopper? she asked, going along with the joke. No, miss smarty-trousers, Neus huffed, seeing she was not really listening. It’s an Elvestran.

Sorina’s jaw dropped. Like most Daígu in the city, she had never met a ‘pale.’ Sorina was not the only one to grant Elvestrans an almost mythological status alongside Humans, stars, and trees.

What’s a pale doing in Ixtrana? she asked curiously. Seeing that he finally had her attention, Neus puffed out his chest.

It’s a thief. Borrin said they caught it in the food stores. He grimaced dramatically, Bet you six gold pieces it gets assigned to the Laundry.

Neus resented that the Laundry was used as a dumping ground for petty criminals working off their sentences. The truth of it was the old dwarf was so grouchy that few would willingly spend their days working under him. The only way to keep the Laundry work slots occupied was to funnel in members of the upper prison that were allowed to work unguarded.

Finally spotting the basket of pins, Sorina hung the last of the clean linens and walked over to where Neus was seated. First of all, is it a he or a she? she asked. And secondly, what do you mean, ‘keep it safe’?

It is a he, Neus growled. Not that it matters. And by ‘safe’ I mean close to Above. Don’t tell me you don’t even know that much!

Of course I do, Sorina replied loftily. I have to go. Here, I got this for you. She pulled the redfruit out of her skirt pocket and dropped it in his lap on her way out.

Thankee! Neus called as she departed. Later that day, enjoying the noon meal with her family Sorina re-

membered what Neus had told her. Father, she asked, putting her bread down. Why would a pale have to be close to Above?

Being underground as we Daígu are, surrounded by stone, makes ‘em sick, her father responded. Their minds aren’t made for being down here. Finish your bread, girl; you’re too skinny as it is. Why are you asking about pales anyway?

Neus said there’s one in the prison. A thief, I guess.

"Humph. He’s probably some urlgiojin who got kicked out of his household for having sticky fingers. Too bad your Queen is so nice – the Vizier probably would’ve sent ‘im to the mines."

Sorina shrugged, rising and taking her empty plate to the counter. Has Mother eaten yet? she asked.

Nah, Overseer’s keeping ‘er busy today. Drop this off on your way, will you? I’ve got to get back to the woodshop.

Of course, Sorina took the bundle of food and kissed her father on his cheek. Be good, Da.

Be good yourself, he responded tartly with his standard retort. Her mother, hard at work at her forge in the Third Smithy, was glad to see the food. Thank goodness, she sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow. We’ve got a huge order to get done here, and I haven’t had a break all day.

Sorina leaned against the wall while her mother ate standing up. What’s the big order? she asked out of curiosity.

Horseshoes, bits, wagon bolts, you name it. Sorina’s mother replied through a mouthful of bread. She took a gulp from the canister of homemade brew – her husband’s special recipe – and swallowed hastily. Well, that was wonderful, but I’ve got to get back to work. Simma kissed her daughter absently on the cheek as she handed her the empty food containers.

Horseshoes? Sorina wondered out loud on her way back to the Quarter.

The Royal District was organized like a wagon wheel, with each of the eight spokes devoted to one center of duty; the exception being the three spokes that together made up the Ixtrana mine. The entrance into the wheel, the Great Hall, was the only spoke not divided into individual workrooms. Still, the large natural cave that Nature created opened onto the dwarf-created loop that encircled the natural underground lake which formed the inner sphere of the circle. Open to the massive lake cavern on its inside wall, the loop was the main passageway between the spokes of the wheel joining each of the areas of the District.

The hall was sprinkled with light. Torch brackets lined the wall, but seldom were more than a few lit. Dwarves need little light to find the way in their own residence and most prefer near-darkness. Sorina traveled the loop now, moving around the circle of the wheel from the Smithies to the Royal Family Quarter. The Quarter was the only spoke of the District that had a door at its entranceway; it was guarded day and night by the Daígu Séfi, the Dwarf Royal Guards. They nodded politely as she passed, one of them opening the heavy door and closing it behind her. The Séfi knew all the servants by sight, as well as knowing which ones were allowed constant access and which ones needed permission to enter. As the Queen’s Own, Sorina was awarded the highest level of respect that a servant could command; on the social sphere of the commoners, she was higher than anyone except an Overseer. Sorina may be only a handmaiden, but she was closer to the Queen than even the Vizier.

Sorina was only ten years younger than Feliciata; hardly a blink of an eye in dwarf life spans. She had watched Feliciata enter adulthood, admiring the older girl from afar as they each journeyed their separate but parallel tracks of education. Now Sorina was responsible for nearly every aspect of the Queen’s private life. She made sure Feliciata was fed and rested, she drew her baths and picked out her clothes, and she even took care of her when the Queen took ill. She probably did more to support the Monarchy than any other single person in Ixtrana. She should be content with her life, Sorina knew; her friends and family told her often enough how lucky she was.

You have a rare honor, Sorina, her mother had told her many times. You are the right hand of the Monarchy. Sorina agreed and over the years had managed to almost completely squelch the voice inside that insisted otherwise.

Yes, I am extremely lucky, Sorina thought to herself as she cleaned Feliciata’s private bathing room while the Queen slept the day away.

So lucky, indeed.

Chapter 3

The Guardian’s Cave

Far across the ocean, in a brilliantly (and some say magically) engineered cavern hidden below the rolling hills of rural England, a blue-eyed half-breed was hard at work in the Clinic Laboratory.

Goddamn it all to hell, Lilim Joyá Aubergain whispered to herself, bending over the microscope.

Tsk, tsk, chastised Joshua on the other side of the lab. Watch your language, dear.

Language, hell, muttered Lilim. I’m more concerned about this sample.

What’s up? questioned Joshua. The senior of the researchers, he tended to regard the laboratory as his private territory and the younger biologists and doctors as well-meaning interlopers. Lilim, however, was different – a special appointment by the Mother granted her complete access to all facilities, all research, and all data. After attending the University and earning her medical degree, Lilim had pressed Mother for the funds necessary to bring the lab up to speed with the times. Joshua was grateful, though he never would tell her that; it wasn’t in his nature to be effusive.

This blood sample, Lilim explained, from young William? He’s the eighth sick child I’ve looked at this week, and I’m seeing a disturbing trend. Here, come take a look.

Joshua knelt over the microscope, pressing his eye to the viewer. After a moment he sucked in his breath. Ah, he breathed. I see what you mean. These red blood cells are quite disturbing.

Lilim rolled her eyes behind his back. Exactly, she agreed dryly. Your powers of description are incredible.

This clotting action is unlike I’ve ever seen, he elaborated, ignoring her teasing. It more closely resembles the crystallization process than normal clotting.

Lilim nodded, opening a file and taking out photo-quality printouts. Look at these, she said, nudging Joshua’s shoulder. These are the other seven samples I’ve looked at this week. All of them are children of the oldest Guardian lines, and all are showing signs of this strange blood disorder.

Your guess? he asked, turning away from the eyepiece and looking through the printouts.

She shrugged, her lips thin. Some strange byproduct of inbreeding? I can only hypothesize. Their symptoms are scattered and disparate. The Guardians have too long been separate from the rest of the Kin, I can tell you that for certain.

Whatever the reason, it certainly could spell disaster for the lines, Joshua agreed, sighing heavily. Then he paused, looking closer at the printouts and pursing his lips. It’s almost as if….

What? Lilim pressed.

As if these children were Bloods, he said, disturbed looking at Lilim square on. How is this possible?

What?! she exclaimed, peering over his shoulder. When have you looked at a Blood’s blood, to turn an awkward phrase?

Only once, he clarified, but it’s not something you forget easily. The sample was from a very powerful Blood, a child of the oldest and purest Line that still exists. Her cells looked just like this – instead of clotting when exposed to air, they crystallized forming these unusual 12-sided forms.

Oh? Lilim asked. Who was the sample from, and how did you get it?

He looked her square in the face. It was from your sister, he said softly. And I got it from the Guardian that killed her.

What! Lilim shouted. She grabbed Joshua by his lapels and shook him hard, her Elvin strength coming into play. Tell me this is a bad joke!

He shook his head, I’m sorry, Lilim. This isn’t how I would have chosen to tell you.

She dropped him, and he fell to the floor like a rag doll. He looked up at her from the cold tile of the lab floor.

My sister is not dead, she said sternly, glaring at him. I put her on a ship to the American colonies myself nearly two hundred years ago. There is no possible way she could have been killed by a Guardian.

Joshua shrugged, not moving from the floor. I only know what I was told, he acknowledged. The man could have been lying.

Who told you this? she demanded. Who was it!?

He sighed, giving in. It was Robert the Elder, he told her, the one who resides in the furthest hut from the Healer’s.

Lilim scowled, turning away. You will tell me more about this later, she directed as she stalked out of the lab and headed for Robert the Elder’s hut.

You know this wasn’t my doing! Joshua called to her back. I’m just the unwilling messenger!

She didn’t respond.

Lilim stalked across the compound, barely acknowledging the waves and hellos of those she passed. Her thoughts roiled, caught up in long-ago memories she’d hoped to never replay.

How can you do this to your own sister? Lamía’s voice was plaintive, still trying to manipulate though her magical powers were gone. You’re older than me. You’re supposed to protect me!

"The time for protection is past, Lilim had answered softly. If I had only known about you when we were younger… things might have been different. I’m sorry, Sister; what’s