sure about all of that, he was upset when he got home and I don’t think that he was in his right mind. When they came to the cottage they could see that it was horribly damaged…”
At this she paused and he could see fresh tears filling her blue eyes again.
“When they entered the house they found a woman. She was dead. Your father has never said much about her. I think that what he saw frightened him. Apparently the inside had been ransacked, but it appeared that nothing had been taken. They found you in the house in a hidden space under the hearth.”
Legon interrupted. “They found me in the fire!” It was a statement, not a question.
“No, dear, there wasn’t a fire burning and I don’t think there had been in a long time. I think that your mother put you in a very safe hiding place.”
“My mother,” he thought. His birth mother hadn’t forgotten him or left in a hurry, running away from robbers. She had been murdered and had most likely spent her last few moments alive hiding him, in a place apparently prepared for just that. This also meant that she had at least planned for the possible day that she would have to hide her son from people who wanted to hurt him. The fact that the house had been searched was disturbing as well, because nothing was taken, or at least nothing obvious had been taken. That probably meant that whoever had attacked was there for reasons other than financial gain. Before Legon had time to fully comprehend what he just been told, his adopted mother pushed on, almost as if by saying this she was free of some burden.
“After they found you they took you home. You know the rest. We adopted you and now you are our son, and we love you like you are our own.” She placed her hand on his at this last statement.
Legon felt every emotion coursing through him. On the one hand he was mad that he hadn’t been told this, but on the other he knew his parents were just trying to protect him. He understood the desire to protect the ones you love; when he thought about it, he didn’t know if could have handled this news when he was younger. Still, something didn’t seem right. Where had his birth father been in this whole affair? He had to know about the hiding place and had to know that his son was missing… unless he was killed too, and Edis, Brack, and Arkin hadn’t found the body.
And what had they been looking for in the first place? A thought came to him then that bothered him: if Edis hadn’t been willing to share all the details of what he saw with his wife, then what he had seen must have been pretty bad. Also, the house had been secluded, and so his mother must have been hiding from something. She may have had or at least known something that whoever did this wanted, and it was possible that they had interrogated her before killing her. That made sense; it also explained why Edis had been unwilling to talk to his wife about it. If his birth mother was interrogated, that meant that they had probably tortured her, and Legon could understand why Edis didn’t want to relive the sight in his head. A thought bubbled up.
“Mom, it’s going to take some time for what you just said to… well, sink in, but I still don’t understand why you got so upset about my tattoo. Isn’t it possible that my birth mother did magic and that’s why it’s there?”
She paused. He could tell she was trying to figure out what to say.
“Your tattoo was put there by magic. I’m sure of that now, but the thing that has me so upset is that your tattoo is, well… I’m not sure how to explain this. Arkin knows more about this kind of thing than me. The tattoo is Elven.” She sighed deeply after saying this.
“‘Elven’? What do you mean, ‘Elven’? Does that mean that an Elf put it there? Why would they do that?” he stammered. He didn’t like the thought of magic, but to think that an Elf of all things had put the tattoo there was almost too much. The queen hated the Elves and would stop at nothing to kill any in her territory or anyone connected to them.