The Cursed Blood, стр. 46
“You swear to this?” he asked in a soft hiss. I stared, an uncomfortable knot forming as I slowly nodded. “I see.” He nodded once. “You are sure of your answer? I need to hear you say it and mean it. And be warned, I shall know if you lie.”
“I swear it,” I hissed, a rumble of finality in my chest as the Wizard King studied me, then, as if he liked what he saw as he peered into my eyes and beyond, he chuckled and smiled.
“I think I may like you, Ben Bright. I think, in fact, more than I like most of your kind.” The Elf King chuckled. “And in answer to your question, no. I don’t think the Vraad killed your parents. Would you care to hear why, Artur, or are you so angry that the truth doesn’t matter to you anymore?”
Gramps just stood there, bearded chin resting on his flannel shirted chest in silence, studying the floor, the Elf Wizard King shook his head again and sighed.
“It may be of interest for you to know that the same forbidden method that the foul Clampetts used to attack your home this morning was tragically used on your son’s home while he and his wife slept.” At this Gramps swayed on his feet and paled, he stomped his foot in pent up rage and frustration as he shook his head and thumped his fist on his thigh.
“The poor Humans never had a chance,” the King admitted sadly. “Even had their fire personnel arrived on time, nothing in Feydom or the Human world burns hotter or faster than Fiendfire. You were lucky my old teacher was here to stop them. It could have been much worse had he not.”
“No,” Gramps hissed over and over as he again stomped his foot and bent over, his hands on his knees, breathing long and heavily. “I missed it,” he finally said in a hollow, strained voice as he stood up straight and leaned against a timber beam. “How could I have missed it?”
“Because it’s difficult to see all of something larger when you are too close to it,” Efferieal Rain answered simply, a hint of understanding and sympathy in his large, silvery eyes. “I’m sorry, Artur, especially for your family’s loss. It’s something you know that I understand all too well.”
The King smiled in a way that hinted at great loss and tragedy and made him seem far older. Gramps nodded but had fallen into a silence he seemed determined not to break as he stared wordlessly out the window, eyes miles away as he obviously lost himself in thought.
“What’s Fiendfire?” I asked, my belly twisting up in knots as I listened.
“Fiendfire is a particularly dangerous compound derived of melding Fey and infernal magics with Alchemy. It is so potent, destructive, and unstable that few ever dare to brew it. Nothing but one of the infernal survives it. It’s so terrible and unpredictable that its use is outlawed by the Council. Thankfully there hasn’t been a Warlock of sufficient skill for decades capable of mixing it,” The King answered. “I won’t lie to you child. It’s a terrible fate your parents suffered. To use such a thing is beyond the normal definitions of evil. I am truly sorry.”
“Why would anyone do that?” I asked. It felt like a stupid question and I really wasn’t expecting an answer, but I remember feeling like the question had to be asked, stupid or not, left unanswered or not, all the same. “My parents weren’t Darklings, they had nothing to do with any of this…just…why?”
Gramps made an unhappy sound at this and worried the floor with his boot, a deeply guilty and troubled look on his face that I assumed had something to do with why he hadn’t spoken to his departed son, my father, in years.
Sadly, I knew he wouldn’t talk about it, and he absolutely refused to look at me as the King’s pace toward the door slowed, then hesitated. His hunters came to a halt behind him as he turned, regarding me sadly with his shining silver eyes.
“I’m sure you will find out, but, know this; Real evil needs no reason.” King Rain sighed. “It doesn’t think like you, young Bright. It can’t be understood by gentle or kind spirits, not really. It exists outside of morality and does things that at times, only it can understand. The problem is knowing evil when you see it, as it often hides in the form of friends, saviors, family, or goodly knights or worse still, the best of intentions. This is what makes it so dangerous.”
I didn’t really understand that at the time, but it really was some deep sage level advice that would have been helpful had I grasped a single thread of it earlier on, as it could have saved me bucketloads of heartache and trouble. Instead, I just watched the one who had opened the door for us open it again for his King, studying me silently like he still wasn’t sure if I needed to be hunted or not as the troop of Elves file out into the yard through the open door.
“Can I meet him?”
My question again paused the Elves as the King froze mid step, obviously considering before looking my way again and smiling over his shoulder.
“We shall see,” he answered cryptically before trudging down the steps with as much pride and dignity as an Elf King can manage, whose armor and magical rings and such was all but melted and charred off of him. He slowed a moment to eye the