Moonshadow (18 page)

Once at the designated pickup location, they decided to sit on a nearby park bench while they waited from him to arrive.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself tonight,” Diana said. “I hope you’ve learned to trust my taste in music from now on.”

“Oh yes,” Darien replied. “Your taste in music is not as utterly dreadful as I thought. Although, as great as the group was tonight, they pale in comparison to the musical artists of my people.”

Diana’s curiosity was piqued. “What
is
your music like?”

His smile was the usual haughty grin. “We don’t have the wide array of electronically powered instruments that your people have. Our instruments are more
classic
in nature. After all, humans learned music from us.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Diana said with her own self-satisfied smile. “You can’t take credit for every innovation in history.”

Darien appeared to be caught in an exaggeration. It happened from time to time, his face contorting like a mischievous child caught in a lie—it was adorable.

“Well, we were both taught music by the Fallen. My people were more skilled at the art and taught humans the finer points.”

“That sounds a little more plausible,” Diana said. “What is your favorite song like?”

“I shall sing you a sample,” he replied. Though delighted, Diana feared he might bring unwanted attention.

Darien began to sing in the melodic language of the Naphalei and the words sounded as if they had always been meant to be sung.

“
Va gobo’nagarai Elberonai

“Barartë ed madartë tril trilier

“Va Coso’Sin goelai

“Belartë ed natartë triluvar tril.”

Diana had to admit, it was probably the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard—though it sounded familiar.

Then she knew.

“That was on the monument in the museum.” She grinned at the thought. “It’s the verse I tricked you into reading.”

“That was nicely done, by the way” he said with his own playful grin. “And good memory. It’s an ancient prophecy. Many of our musical masterpieces are rooted in them. My mother sang that particular canticle to me from before my earliest memories.”

“What’s it about?” Diana asked, intrigued by the notion of elven prophecies.

“The verses belong to a larger work known as
The Oracles of the Twelve Pillars,
believed to have been written by Morael the Seer in the first generation following Elberon’s Tears.” He cleared his throat before offering a translation.

“From the bowl of Elberon’s Wrath,

“Your Fathers and Mothers drank deeply.

“But from the Chalice of the Moon’s Redemption,

“Your sons and daughters will drink continually.”

A chill tingled its way up the length of Diana’s spine before coursing through her entire body.
Chalice of the Moon’s Redemption?
The words of the prophecy filled her with a great deal of excitement.

“What do you think it means?” she asked.

“Well, we don’t really know.” Darien replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “Like any prophecy, the true meaning will never be known until it is fulfilled.”

Diana playfully sneered at his dodge. “That really didn’t answer the question. What do
you
think it means?”

Darien thought over the question a moment, obviously trying to present his view in a way that Diana would understand.

“This prophecy is central to the most common religious beliefs of my people, regardless of how literal the interpretation. Whatever the true meaning is, the redemption of my people will come by drinking of
Coso’Sin-
—the Chalice of the Moon.”

“What
is
the Chalice of the Moon?” asked Diana, finally able to breach the subject she’d been subtly avoiding. The night of the gala, Darien had obviously thought she’d known something about it and she’d wondered if that hadn’t been the real reason he’d asked her out that night. Regardless, he’d grown quite fond of her since then and she had been too afraid to ruin things with her suspicions.

Darien closed his eyes and sighed. It appeared to be a sensitive subject for him.

“Time fades all legends,” Darien said. “So we can’t ever be sure. Some say that Udana presented Endymion with the Chalice, and that drinking of it made him immortal. Others say it was their marriage chalice and that they gave the cup to their children as an heirloom, only to be lost with Elberon’s Tears. More accounts exist as well—with varying degrees of lunacy. Many have sought the Chalice over the ages. Some have even claimed to have found it only to lose it again. Chalice quests, and the heroes that embarked on them, have filled our tales since the prophecy first appeared many millennia ago.”

Diana couldn’t help but be reminded of Flinders’ book of Grail lore. She needed to know if there was really a connection, and if Flinders and Charlotte had been aware of it. “That sounds a lot like our Holy Grail legends.”

“You’re not wrong,” Darien replied. “Many believe your tales of the Grail sprang from our own quests for the Moon Chalice. Seekers have often searched for their origins only to find they were following their own trails, or the trails of their forebears.”

The notion was intriguing, to say the least, but it didn’t explain her aunt’s unique twist on Arthurian legend. Somehow, Charlotte had known of the Chalice of the Moon. Perhaps her version of the story was the true one.

“What about King Arthur?” Diana asked, probing “Most Grail legends that I know of concern the Knights of the Round Table.”

From the way his eyes twitched, and the fact that he was uncharacteristically
not
continuing on with is lecture, the subject was likely very sensitive.

I knew it.
She kept her enthusiastic curiosity from showing.

“Dangerous question?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t dodge this one like the others
.
She was sick of Darien telling her that he couldn’t tell her things “for her own good.” It wasn’t like she was going to run and tell the News.

Darien nodded. “There’s a reason your historians find no trace of Arthur Pendragon in the historical record—but that is a tale for another time and place.”

Diana sighed in defeat.
Foiled again.
Regardless, he’d pretty much just admitted that King Arthur had a connection to the Chalice of the Moon, and that the elves had erased all knowledge of both from the historical records.

Charlotte and Flinders
must
have discovered the truth.

Diana realized just how true her words had been—it was a dangerous question. Perhaps she could find out the truth for herself another way, and keep from getting “taken care of” like her aunt.

“You never did tell me what
you
thought the prophecy meant,” she said, coaxing Darien into being a little more eager to divulge information.

“I suppose I didn’t, I apologize.” He obviously had hoped to dodge her question and now looked somewhat uncomfortable. “The majority still believe that Elberon forsook humanity and that the Naphalei are now the inheritors of his blessings. This was my father’s belief and he raised his children to adhere to it as well.”

Diana wasn’t all that surprised, especially considering his attitude towards her when they’d first met. He’d softened a bit, sure, but he still barely tolerated other humans. She was glad Darien’s twin wasn’t around; it would probably make their budding relationship that much more complicated.

“While I agree with many aspects of these views,” he continued. “I have always had doubts.” He looked down at his hands. “My mother raised me to always seek the truth—in everything. It’s always been my way.”

Diana felt his sadness twisting sharply within her own chest as he recalled memories. She resisted the urge to take him into her arms and console him.

“Mother would sing me the tales of Endymion and Udana. I enjoyed them because they were always so full of love, tragedy, and hope. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized she didn’t hold the same views as most.”

“What do you mean?”

“Endymion and Udana are either loved or hated separately, but never together.” He shook his head at the ridiculous notion. “Someone has to be the villain of the story. Either Udana enticed Endymion and corrupted him, or Endymion raped the Moon Keeper to steal her glory. The stories rarely mention their great love for each other.”

“But isn’t their love the central part of the story?” Diana asked, confused.

“In the oldest legends, yes, but countless ages have twisted the tales to suit the needs of those who tell them; no one knows what to believe anymore.”

“That is so sad.” The thought of epic love being used for purposes of hate broke Diana’s heart.

“My mother thought so too—a conviction she ended up dying for.” Darien turned away from Diana to stare up at the sky. His sadness almost threatened to consume him, but then his expression became very stern and he quickly overcame whatever memory he was repressing.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t know your mother had died.”

Darien turned his attention back on her, his face as stone.

“My parents died over two hundred years ago—I’ve had time to mourn them.”

“Oh,” was all she could say. Diana always seemed to forget that Darien was a couple years shy of being three hundred.

“Do you mind me asking how they died?”

“Not at all,” Darien replied. “Mother had been influenced by a charismatic philosopher named Traevion. He preached that we were all wrong and that the Chalice of the Moon would bring redemption for
all
Elberon’s children—the Fallen, Mankind, and the Naphalei. He believed that the Chalice would usher in a new age in which our people and the humans could coexist in harmony.”

“Sounds kind of nice actually,” Diana said. “What’s so bad about that?”

“It goes against over twenty-thousand years of evidence to the contrary,” Darien replied, his countenance still very unyielding. The subject of his mother’s death had caused him rebuild his walls of hateful prejudice and Diana regretted bringing it up. “Traevion was executed for his heresies and his followers were hunted down and killed—my mother among them. The night they came for her, my father resisted. Even though he had never adhered to the teachings of Traevion, he was killed beside her.”

Diana couldn’t tell what was more horrible—the death of his parents or that Darien showed no emotion as he told the tale. Diana couldn’t imagine something so horrible happening to her own parents. Religious persecution on that scale had not been in America for quite some time. It was strange to think Darien’s people could be so intolerant of opposing ideologies. In books, elves always seemed like such enlightened beings.

“One of the last things I remember mother telling me was that hatred and prejudice will keep the Chalice hidden forever, and that only love will make it finally appear. She died believing that, even as they beheaded her for it.”

Darien’s gaze grew very intense, the anger finally building behind his stone-gray eyes. “The Chalice prophecy means war, dissension, and death—that is the only interpretation I know.” He slammed his fist down on the metal of the bench and Diana’s core reverberated as the ground underneath them quaked and cracked at his rage. “Whatever the blasted cup is, I will find the damned thing and put an end to it.” The conviction in his eyes was as hard as rock.

“That’s why you became a Seeker, isn’t it?” Diana knew it was true. “You’re searching for the Chalice.”

He nodded that she was right. “I’ve been all over the world in the past one hundred and fifty years. I have followed every lead, every legend, and every whisper. If it exists, I will find it—and if it’s only a myth, I will prove it.”

“Then why are you here, in the middle of Ohio? Shouldn’t you be off in the Middle East somewhere?” She couldn’t figure what could possibly make Darien look for a fabled relic in the American Mid-West. Unless—. “You think Flinders knew something.”

From Darien’s curious eyes and arched brow, Diana knew she was right.

“Yes, I do,” Darien finally replied. “And so do you, it would seem.”

If she wasn’t careful, Darien was going to grow suspicious and quit talking to her about it. He may even go so far as break things off with Diana and hand her over to the Naphalei authorities.

“It just makes sense,” she said with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. “He found the Chalice stele; who knows, maybe he figured out your language, or one of your people helped him to, and he eventually found the Chalice. From what I know of the man, it sounds plausible.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Darien replied, his look of curiosity relaxing as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Diana fought the urge to sigh in relief.

“I was a part of an excavation of ancient Troy when I first came into contact with Foxwell Flinders,” Darien continued. “He was attempting to link Homeric legends with Atlantis, and his studies naturally piqued my interest, so I decided to shadow him to see if he produced results. While I was making my reports to Keeper Jerek in
Qir’Halzereth
, my contacts informed me that Flinders had unearthed the Chalice Stele, claiming it to be an important discovery in his search for ‘the Holy Grail of Atlantis.’