Avendon

PART ONE - CHAPTER ONE
Tiny dust particles danced in the last feeble rays of sunlight, spiralled into motion by a gentle breeze. Dusk was falling, casting the deep blue sky into increasingly dark hues of copper and burgundy.
Silhouetted against the setting sun, a tall figure watched the progress of night in motionless silence. The breeze played across his face, and rustled back his brown hair, causing him to smile, but he didn’t move. He just drank in the fresh air, the peace and quiet, and allowed himself to relax. It had been a long hard day, and the feeling of tension rolling off his shoulders as the night wore on was utter bliss. But the fear was never really gone; it lingered at the back of his mind, and try as he may, he could not prevent his thoughts from dropping to the nightmare, which thrashed and struggled against its bonds deep within the core of Avendon. The shiver that traced its way through his body had nothing to do with the seeping cold brought on by darkness. As if sensing his unease, the ground beneath his feet trembled mockingly. His jaw clenched stubbornly, and he wrenched his thoughts away from his fear. He refused to give the beast that satisfaction.
His gaze flicked to the star-strewn sky, admiring its beauty. But even the merrily twinkling lights far above him were a reminder of the epic battle that had been fought between two eternal beings decades ago, forever marking the canvas of the night sky. Amoir had been victorious, and the Asmondth bound for all time. The man swelled with pride, and he even dared to smirk at the thought of the beast’s failure.
The ground gave a violent lurch, almost knocking him off his feet, and frightening a number of birds out of nearby trees. The man caught himself, somewhat used to this occurrence but still drawing a deep breath to steady himself.
A soft hand closed over his shoulder, accompanied by a gentle inquiry. "Are you okay, Eltorin?"
The man turned to his wife with a smile. Light spilling from the open doorway behind them illuminated her slim figure and wavy hair, giving her an angelic-like appearance. Eltorin's dark brown eyes met her blue ones.
"I'm fine, Majandra," he assured her, wrapping an arm around her waist and allowing her to relax against his body. "The children?" he asked after a moment, glancing towards their house. Everything was still quiet, an indication that all was well. But one couldn't be so sure.
"Sleeping," Majandra sighed.
Eltorin noticed the weariness in her voice and felt a stirring of guilt.
"I woke you," he said, lifting his free hand to gently neaten her hair. "I'm sorry."
Majandra tilted her head slightly to look at him. "The earthquake still bothering you?" It wasn't really a question.
"Seven dead, two only children," Eltorin said heavily. "Three houses completely destroyed, many others with collapsed rooves and walls." These same things had been plaguing him all day. He shook his head sadly. "The situation is getting worse."
"Amoir will prevail." But the conviction in Majandra's voice wavered and Eltorin knew she was thinking of the small, broken bodies, crushed beneath the rubble of their homes.
"Will he?" Eltorin said quietly. He knew the almighty powers of their creator, but questions of doubt still chased their way around his troubled mind. Was not the Asmondth powerful also? He was bound, and yet had somehow managed to harness the very links of Avendon and bend them to do his bidding. Never before had the Avendi had to face such devastation. Would Amoir be able to conquer the beast once more? And even if he could, would he be willing to do so? Surely one with such knowledge and understanding would have foreseen the actions of the Asmondth, and therefore discovered a means to prevent them.
"You are tired, Eltorin." Majandra's words broke into his relentless thoughts. The look in her eyes told him she knew what was going through his mind. "In the morning you will remember that Amoir has never, and will never forsake us. Come back to bed."
For a moment Eltorin's gaze swept over the shadowed landscape, now only able to pick out the dimmest outline of nearby trees. He felt Majandra delicately remove herself from his embrace and slip her small hand into his. Without really thinking about it he allowed his wife to guide him back into the house and absently shut the door behind them.
Majandra rocked forward onto the tips of her toes and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. "I love you," she whispered.
Hearing those words loosened the knot of anxiety that had formed in Eltorin's gut like nothing else, and as the candlelight flickered then vanished, his worry seemed to evaporate with it.
"I love you, too," he replied softly.
~~~
Eltorin was woken the next morning by a small hand tugging enthusiastically on his own. A few seconds later he let out a surprised grunt as someone landed on his chest, knocking the breath out of him.
“Wake up, Daddy!”
He blearily opened his eyes and found his vision obscured by a mass of soft brown curls, which were impatiently tossed out of the way to reveal a cute button nose and hazel eyes set within the rounded features of a seven-year-old.
“Good morning, sweetie,” he mumbled, pushing himself into a sitting position. His daughter stared at him expectantly, and he moaned in mock exasperation. “Oh, all right.”
He slid his feet from under the covers and set them firmly on the cold floor. Swiftly, without giving her any warning, he scooped the young girl from the bed, sung her in an arc and dumped her on his shoulders. She squealed in delight, and clapped her hands in excitement.
Eltorin met his wife’s eyes, and they shared an amused look. Maela still found it enjoyable, even though her father had done it a hundred times before. The innocence of childhood never ceased to amaze.
Eltorin made his way into the kitchen, pretending to stumble as he did, but always keeping a secure grip on his youngest child. Maela giggled and squirmed happily, trusting him completely. Eltorin couldn’t help but smile.
He lifted her from his shoulders and deposited her onto one of the chairs. She gazed at him, breathless with laughter, eyes shining.
“It never gets old, does it?”
Eltorin looked up to see the eldest of his children standing in the doorway. She was grinning.
“I remember when you used to do that with me,” she continued. “It seems so silly, looking back, but it was fun at the time.”
Eltorin smiled at her in return. “My little baby just grew too big.”
“I’m not a baby anymore,” she admonished him, folding her arms across her chest and looking stern.
“Sorry, Jalende,” he replied, suppressing a laugh at her indignant expression, belied by the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maela trying to imitate her sister’s body posture, but she was having trouble getting her arms in the right position. Eventually she merely looked as though she were hugging herself, and didn’t appear stern in the least.
This time Jalende laughed, and stepped into the room to hug her sibling.
Seeing them together, Eltorin was reminded how similar they looked. The only real difference was the fact that Jalende was thirteen years older, so her features were more refined and her hair was pulled back into an elegant bun, leaving a single curl draped over her forehead. Maela’s hair, on the other hand, was always a mess, despite Jalende’s constant attempts to tame it.
As if on cue, Jalende settled Maela on her lap and took to combing her fingers through the tangle of curls. Whenever the little girl’s hair started to bear some semblance to neatness, Maela would toss her head slightly, and her hair would tumble back into its original state. Jalende seemed in half a mind to scold her little sister, but by now the stubbornness was such a common occurrence that she had resigned herself to failure before she even tried.
Eltorin’s gaze was torn away from his daughters as two blurred figures tumbled into the room.
“Gotcha!” yelled the older of the two, successfully pinning a smaller, darker-haired boy to the ground, at the expense of an unoccupied chair that was knocked aside.
“No-you-don’t!” protested Daemyn, struggling furiously against the arms holding him down, to no avail.
Tavyn laughed, grinning down at his still defiant little brother. “I win,” he said.
Unbeknownst to the young boys, another member of the family had entered the room. Eltorin had been considering intervention, but his eldest son beat him to it. Stepping deftly forward, Avye plucked Tavyn off his little brother.
“Hey!” Tavyn objected, now finding himself in a position much like the one Daemyn had been in moments again. He twisted wildly in Avye’s grasp, unable to free himself.
Daemyn scrambled to his feet, pushing back his long, dark brown hair, which appeared almost black. Able to see clearly again, he gazed up in awe at his oldest brother, grinning in thanks.
Avye, of the six children, was the most similar to Eltorin in appearance, with the same thick brown hair, brown eyes and strong chin. At 17-years old he was also very close in height to his father, and likely to grow taller in the next year or so.
Avye dumped Tavyn onto a seat and ruffled the sandy-brown hair before he moved around the table to sit in his customary chair. The place next to him was already occupied by the third oldest child in the family. Caolan, as usual, had slipped into the room so quietly that his entrance hadn’t been heard through all the commotion.
Eltorin grinned and sat down at the head of the table. Moments later his eyes flicked to the doorway leading to the kitchen, as he contemplated helping Majandra with the morning meal. He was halfway out of his chair when she baked into the room, bearing a heavily laden tray. For a small woman, Eltorin reflected, she was surprisingly strong, as she proved to him continuously. Graceful, too. She set the tray on the table with a casual elegance unique to her personality. It was one of those little things that Majandra didn’t even notice, but made Eltorin love her even more.
Rather than voicing this observation, Eltorin turned his attention to the dishes that were being set before each member of the family.
“Yalibotez!” he exclaimed, picking up a small piece from his place and popping it into his mouth with gusto. The combination of various fruits and pasty compressed into small balls and filled with a secret ingredient, which Majandra had shared only with Jalende, was somewhat of a delicacy in their family. “My favourite,” he enthused, wafting the succulent aromas drifting around the table towards him and inhaling deeply.
The rest of the family murmured their assent – or, in Maela's case, giggled happily – and dug in, all apart from Caolan who quietly picked up the chair that had fallen earlier and set it upright for his mother.
Eltorin smiled to himself, and picked up another yali, savouring the exotic texture of the fruits and the sweetly creamy explosion of taste in the centre. No matter what else was happening in the world, and whichever issues would arise at the next council meeting, he could at least find stability with his family.
He was blessed.