Disregarding Fate (D'Vaire Book 8) Page 2

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  A scream ripped from his throat as Evlithar bolted up from his makeshift bed. He was covered in sweat, and his heart was galloping behind his rib cage.

  “Evlithar, what ails you?” his cousin demanded from the other side of the tent. There was little light, and the disembodied voice managed to increase the dread Evlithar had no hope of controlling.

  “I cannot do this.”

  Evlithar heard the strike of metal on flint, and he sat there trembling while Kalthekor built a fire in the small circle of rocks in the center of the tent. Above it was a giant hole in the cloth to allow the smoke to exit. Once the blaze was glowing softly, Kalthekor pinned him with an agitated look. “It’s earlier than I wished to wake.”

  “My dreams were troubled.”

  “You must stop feeling sorry for yourself. Today you become Cwylld.”

  “I cannot, and I will not.”

  “You will,” Kalthekor demanded. “You cannot disregard Fate.”

  “I must,” Evlithar whispered. “I’ve no wish to die.”

  “It’s not a foregone conclusion.”

  As the tortured dreams of death and destruction began to fade from Evlithar’s mind, a terrible idea rose from the depths. He might not wish to die, but if the Cwylld were to believe he had already left this mortal plane, he could escape a sword in his belly. “Kalthekor, I need your assistance.”

  “I’ve already made the arrangements for your mating ceremony today.”

  “I won’t have a mating ceremony. It is my funeral you will be attending.”

  Kalthekor’s dark brows drew together. “You cannot possibly mean to take your life?”

  “No, but I wish the Cwylld to believe I have done so.”

  “Have you lost all your senses? I won’t listen to this ridiculousness. You will do what is expected of you. Today you’ll become Evlithar of the Cwylld.”

  “You’re all the family I have left, Kalthekor. I beg for your assistance. I’ll do all that I can to aid you for the remainder of my life.”

  “Evlithar, you are distraught. You cannot ask your chieftain to lie to another tribe and hold an imaginary funeral pyre.”

  Evlithar threw off his covering and raced over to where his cousin was standing near the fire. He dropped to his knees and grabbed Kalthekor’s tunic in tight fists. “I beg of you. I cannot abide being Cwylld.”

  “You would be sentencing yourself and Cadlyr to long, empty lives.”

  “It’s better to be empty than to die in battle.”

  “We don’t have the luxury of deciding our own fates.”

  “Fate has betrayed me. I will not abide by her wishes. I know what I’m doing is unfair to Cadlyr, but I have no choice.”

  “You do have a choice. I have no real wish to see the Valzadari disgraced by your connection to the Cwylld. Their tribe is far below ours, and it lowers our status among all elves. I’m no more thrilled about Fate’s choice for you than you are,” Kalthekor replied as he pried Evlithar’s fingers from his clothing. “But we’re taught to obey her wishes without complaint. You shame us by mating with him, but it’s a far greater shame to even contemplate holding your funeral while you still walk on this side of the veil.”

  Still on his knees, Evlithar looked up at his cousin and knew he had to convince him to go along with his plan. It might not be a fair or just solution, but it was all he could think of to escape the Cwylld. “I implore you to understand the horror in my soul. I cannot do this. I can’t join a tribe whose only desire is to battle. They are hated by all elves. I’ve no wish to be hated and forced to fight in war after war. I have no skill in weaponry and so my death is all but assured. If I die, Cadlyr’s life would be snuffed out as well—Fate taking two mated elves together. If you would think on it, you’d see that by holding a pretend funeral pyre, I’m no doubt saving his life. He must have great skill. I am nothing more than a danger to him and his tribe. His parents wouldn’t thank me for taking the life of their child.”

  “You’re concentrating on nothing but the dark side of your destiny. You’ve no way of knowing what the future holds. I cannot smear the reputation of the Valzadari simply because you lack the courage to do as Fate intended.”

  “But you said mating a Cwylld will also be a mark against the Valzadari.”

  “It cannot be helped. I shall remind all those that comment upon it that we had no choice in the matter. I will not under any circumstances make the Cwylld an ally of ours. You’ll go to their tribe and never return to the Valzadari.”

  “You see? Not only must I put the lives of myself and Cadlyr in jeopardy, I’m being asked to give up everything and everyone I’ve known my whole life.”

  “The other elves who have met their mates at this gathering will be doing the same.”

  “That’s untrue,” Evlithar countered. “The joining of two mates often heralds the beginning of an alliance.”

  “I understand the traditions of our people, but I will not align the Valzadari with the Cwylld. Our people won’t die in any useless battle.”

  “It’s only me you wish to see dead on a battlefield.”

  “I didn’t join you with Cadlyr. Fate did.”

  “But you could help me escape the Cwylld and yet you refuse.”

  Kalthekor scowled. “Don’t try and blame me for refusing to participate in this cracked plan of yours.”

  “I’ll be beholden to you for life. I will do anything and everything you wish,” Evlithar pleaded. “I don’t wish to hurt Cadlyr, but I cannot do this. I’d be more of a hindrance than a help to his tribe. I cannot battle, and all they seek is war.”

  “You’ll do all I ask for all of your immortal life?”

  “It would be my pleasure to assist the chieftain of my tribe in any way that I can.”

  “I must think on this.”

  Evlithar smiled. It was the first sign of joy he’d had since he met Cadlyr the previous day. “Thank you, Kalthekor.”

  “Do not thank me. If I should do this, it is a stain upon my own honor. One you are solely responsible for.”

  “I understand.” Evlithar knew better than to keep pressing his cousin. He pulled himself from the ground and did not say another word to Kalthekor as his mind began to plan the funeral pyre he hoped to light. He sent up a wish that somehow Cadlyr would be able to find it in his heart to forgive Evlithar should his deceit ever be found out. Evlithar had no cause to hurt the elf; it was not him he wished to escape.

  He dug through his packed belongings and grabbed his favorite beaded necklace given to him on the death of his parents. It was elven tradition to honor the bereaved with such things, and he wished Cadlyr to be gifted with the one he held most dear to his heart. It was all he could do to compensate Cadlyr for the lie he hoped Kalthekor brought to him. No matter which way Kalthekor decided, nothing about the day would be a celebration. Either he was surely being led to his death amongst the Cwylld, or he was defying the fabric of elven tradition and shaming himself. Evlithar wondered what he had done in his short life to make Fate hate him so.

  Chapter 3

  It might have been possible to find a tribesman willing to allow him to take shelter in their tent, but Cadlyr had chosen to spend his last night alone under the stars. As it turned out, rest had escaped him; there had been too much excitement bubbling through his veins for anything so mundane. When the sun had risen, he had waited eagerly—close to where his parents were camped—and had been overjoyed when a member of the Valzadari tribe arrived with a missive for him. It included the details of his mating ceremony, and Cadlyr had not wasted any time in collecting all the belongings he’d brought with him to the gathering. He would not worry about the few things he had left back in his hut at home; they could all be easily replaced.

  Not long after he had packed, he pulled on his best tunic, so he could join his life with Evlithar. Dressed and wearing a broad grin, Cadlyr headed for the grove of trees where the ritual was to take place. He saw the frowning faces of the people who’d brought him into the world, but he opted to ignore them. At first he was unable to see a single Valzadari elf, but within minutes, he glimpsed a shrewd-eyed man striding in his direction.

  “Are you Cadlyr of the Cwylld?” the man asked. Through the opening at the throat of his tunic, Cadlyr could see the raised sword in several shades of blue which marked him as a chieftain.

  “Chieftain, I am Cadlyr.”

  “I’ve grave news. I’m afraid there will be no mating ceremony this day.”

  Cadlyr’s heart sank. “Chieftain, I don’t understand. Word was sent by you just hours ago to apprise me of the details.”

  “We must apologize for Cadlyr. He’s often impertinent,” Chieftain Aniernan said.

  The Valzadari leader lifted his chin and somehow from his short height managed to look down his nose at the Cwylld ruler. “As are you, Chieftain. I was speaking with Cadlyr,” he countered before returning his steely gaze to Cadlyr. “Evlithar asked me to make the arrangements, but now it is impossible to proceed. There’s no delicate way to impart this news. Your mate took his own life some time after the sun rose. I was only just made aware of his death.”

  Closing his eyes, Cadlyr could hardly believe the words the chieftain had spoken. He lifted his lashes and said, “I’m sorry for your loss, Chieftain.”

  “Thank you. I loved my cousin a great deal, and his death won’t be an easy one to endure. We plan to light his pyre—you’re welcome to attend.”

  “I wouldn’t wish to impose upon your family, Chieftain.”

  “He was your mate, Cadlyr. I wouldn’t dream of barring you from his walk to the other side of the veil.”

  “Thank you, Chieftain. I’d be honored to be present.”

  The Valzadari chieftain gave him a somber
nod and then informed him the ceremony would begin within the hour. Cadlyr could not believe his life had taken so many twists and turns in such a short amount of time. The morning had brought with it such joy, and now all he could feel was sorrow. Evlithar, the beautiful blue elf he had met only the previous evening, was now dead, and he could not trick himself into believing it had nothing to do with him.

  “You drove your mate to end his life. He’d rather be dead than spend all his days with the likes of you,” Chieftain Aniernan hissed.

  “Do not speak of him,” Cadlyr shot out. “I won’t listen to you disparage him.”

  “You dare give me orders? You’re the one who should be begging my forgiveness. The Valzadari won’t be taking you in now. You’ve caused the cousin of the chieftain to kill himself. You will return to the Cwylld but not as our son. It’ll take a great deal of groveling to get into my good graces, and still you will never be more than a peasant,” Chieftain Aniernan retorted.

  “No doubt I will since Fate has left me with little choice, but it will not be this day,” Cadlyr dared to say before stalking off. Straightening his shoulders, Cadlyr walked in the direction he’d been given by Evlithar’s cousin and tried not to drown in his emotions. He ached for the desperate man who had made the impossible choice to die instead of being saddled with Cadlyr. It did not escape Cadlyr that Evlithar’s decision had everything to do with the fact that he was Cwylld. They had met only once; he knew nothing of Cadlyr’s character, so it was surely his tribe’s notorious reputation which led him to do something so shocking.

  He was also furious at the elf because he had unknowingly sentenced Cadlyr to a life in the same village he’d wished to escape. There would be no future away from the chieftain and chieftess who went out of their way to make him miserable, and he’d be forced to endure battle after battle hoping his own existence wouldn’t be snuffed out.

  If only Evlithar would have taken the chance to speak with him.

  Cadlyr could’ve revealed that he would love to join the Valzadari despite the small step down in rank. Nobility was useless if it meant staying on with the Cwylld, Cadlyr thought in rage and disgust. Evlithar’s assumption had cost him everything and left Cadlyr paying a steep price as well. Cadlyr couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done to deserve such a heavy burden placed upon his soul. Somehow, he had to find a way to live with his guilt and try not to hate Evlithar for disregarding Fate.

  * * *

  As the Valzadari chieftain spoke, Cadlyr tried his best not to hear all the praise he was heaping upon the head of the now-deceased Evlithar. It seemed his mate had been a wonderful addition not only to his family but to his entire tribe. It was impossible not to think about what he could’ve brought to Cadlyr’s life. The pyre was burning brightly, and it made Evlithar’s death unbearably real. Cadlyr had caused the man to perish, and he was unable to imagine a time when he could forgive himself. Though he was young, it would reverberate throughout his immortality, and he made a few promises to himself.

  Attending elven gatherings in the future was out of the question. One mate found and then lost was quite enough, and he would not put himself through the torture of it a second time. There was no telling how many elves would choose the unthinkable over the idea of joining with a member of Cadlyr’s tribe. He might have no choice but to live among the Cwylld, but he did not have to follow the dictates of his parents. They would not change their minds, and he was no longer their son. Their tribe lived in fear of the chieftain and chieftess, and none of his people would remark upon the real family connection again.

  That was fine with Cadlyr; he had no need of parents who were so cold of heart. It was their distaste in finding peace which had caused Evlithar to die, and he wouldn’t forget that. Other tribes had been cut down, and the Cwylld simply pretended as if they had never existed. Nothing about that would ever change; his parents would continue to harbor their hate and fester with their need to battle.

  A tear slid down his cheek as his emotions boiled over. Evlithar had robbed them both of a better life—one rich in potential love and the joy of no longer being Cwylld. He had been Cadlyr’s escape and had snatched it away, and there would be no new solution to present itself. Fury overcame him, and he could not help but think he would have been perfectly willing even to put his own selfish desires aside if it meant Evlithar still breathed. There was no way he would have asked Evlithar to pay for his freedom with his soul.

  He made a promise to his dead mate he would not forget him. Cadlyr would remember Evlithar and his exquisite face, but he could not guarantee he would only think of him in a positive sense. In fact, it would be impossible since Evlithar could have skipped death if only he had been willing to have words with Cadlyr over their future. How could he forgive him for that? The loss of Evlithar was unavoidable, was all Cadlyr could think as the flames continued to lick the wood under where they had lain his body.

  “Cadlyr of the Cwylld, would you step forward?” the Valzadari chieftain called out.

  Without delay, Cadlyr walked toward the man and faced him with tears still running down his cheeks. “Chieftain?”

  “Please lower your head.”

  Since all Valzadari stood roughly the same stature of Evlithar, Cadlyr did as he was told. The chieftain placed a long string of beads in glorious blues over his neck.

  “Thank you, Chieftain,” he whispered as he put a hand up to the necklace given to all elven mourners who had lost a loved one. He appreciated that the chieftain had included him as one of the bereaved, even though he had only met Evlithar the previous day. It seemed as if the chieftain was less willing to sacrifice tradition than his cousin had been.

  “Fate will see you well, Cadlyr, though it may take time,” the chieftain said.

  “I would not have had you bear the loss of your cousin could I have helped it, Chieftain,” he offered.

  “Thank you for your kindness.”

  Cadlyr gave him a nod and still fingering the beads in his hand, he retreated away from the burning corpse of his mate. In his wildest and most tortured dreams, he could not have imagined a day to mirror this one. He wished he had not come to the gathering; he should have stayed home and enjoyed the respite away from his parents instead of rushing off to seek out his other half. Leaving behind the remaining bereaved, Cadlyr marched down the hill away from the crowd to find some space to collect his thoughts.

  He had to do quite a bit of walking until he could be alone, but eventually he found some isolated trees and lowered his body to the forest floor. “Evlithar, why? Why did you choose this day to die? I would’ve spared you this. I would have done anything to spare you this,” he whispered aloud. “I know so much more than you the horror of being Cwylld. Why would you think I’d force you to endure a life amongst them? You could’ve saved me. Rescued me from a loveless existence where I must practice with weapons each day to prevent losing a limb or worse in a useless war. How can I forgive you for consigning me to this hell?”

  Leaning his head back against the rough bark, Cadlyr swiped away his tears and decided there was little that could happen in his life to make it worse. Then he cursed himself for tempting Fate in such a foolish way. If he had learned nothing since he’d arrived at the damnable gathering it was that no matter how bad you believed it was, there was always a chance the following day would be crueler. It was a tough lesson, and he cursed ever meeting Evlithar of the Valzadari. Instead of a loving mate, he’d been given an eternal sentence of both guilt and rage. It was a sad legacy for such a beautiful but foolish elf, and Cadlyr would hold on to the necklace of the mourner to remember him always.

  Chapter 4

  Present Day

  “Remind me again why I’m here,” Cadlyr demanded of the five men surrounding him.

  “I believe it’s because Corwin is more stubborn than you are,” Chieftain Lorcan Acwellan-D’Vaire replied.

  “Figures since he’s your brother,” Cadlyr retorted to his best friend.