Throne of Eldraine- the Wildered Quest

by Kate Elliott

  “Will and Rowan! These are dark days, but you bring light to Garenbrig. How fares your mother? If I know her, and I do, she is doing everything she can to keep the Realm in order at this vulnerable time. But then, that is Linden, is it not? Always using her considerable strength on behalf of others even at great cost to herself.”

  “At great cost to herself?” Will asked, exchanging a puzzled glance with Rowan.

  “Ah.” Yorvo was silent for a moment, then smiled as if to change the subject away from whatever a “great cost” might be. “I mustn’t compliment Linden too much. If she were to hear I was singing her praises she would arch an eyebrow and suggest the subject be turned to something more useful like irrigation improvements or how to defend against a swarm of carnivorous frogs. What brings you here, children?”

  “Indrelon granted us a vision, a path to seek Father,” said Rowan excitedly. “We are hunting a stag that we saw standing at the base of a mound at dawn, with the sun rising between two ivory obelisks behind it.”

  “Do not speak of your vision outside this chamber.” The giant glanced toward a set of closed doors as if he suspected eavesdroppers. “What can I do to help you?”

  “We want to enter the Wilds, through the portal,” Will said.

  “A dangerous business. But you are of age, so I will assist you. But tell me, Will. You could quest for years in the Wilds and never find one specified beast. How do you mean to track this stag?”

  Elowen interrupted, “Based on their description of the vision, I know where and when the portal must open.”

  His gaze shifted to her. He blinked as slowly as if he had barely heard and was trying to puzzle out what she’d said.

  To Will’s surprise Elowen added, “I beg your pardon for interrupting, King Yorvo. But the quest is urgent, as I am sure you agree.”

  “I am concerned, it is true. You need the stones shifted to a particular alignment.”

  “Yes. Such a feat of strength should be child’s play for you, King Yorvo.”

  “Child’s play is serious business, loremage. But yes, I can manage it easily enough. However, Midwinter’s Day is not an auspicious time to enter the Wilds.”

  “Spoken as if I am not the most knowledgeable loremage in Vantress,” muttered Elowen. She glanced at the floor and sighed as if to stop herself from any more sarcastic rejoinders. Finally, she lifted her gaze. “The situation is dire, as you know. We have only the vision to guide our steps. I know of a mound in the Wilds with two obelisks atop it that fits the description given by the twins. The sun rises directly between the two obelisks only at dawn on Midwinter’s Day. Therefore, the stag will be in the clearing tomorrow morning. Only the portal can get us there in time.”

  His gaze again shifted toward the closed doors. He stroked his beard with a frown and, after a pause, examined first Rowan and then Will with a worried look that made Will’s head hum with questions.

  “So be it. I cannot gainsay Indrelon’s knowledge. Be ready at the henge portal at dawn but do not enter before then. Now, attend me at the feast. Children, you will sit at my right hand.”

  He rose, his girth and height startling but his gentle smile reassuring. The doors opened onto a feasting hall, a cavern filled with light and merriment and song. Musicians played a spritely tune as King Yorvo entered. The revelers welcomed Will and Rowan and their companions with a song. The contingent from Locthwain stared at the newcomers, whispering among themselves. Will couldn’t help but gawk at their elaborate headdresses and elegant attire.

  Queen Ayara was already seated at the high table, to the left of Yorvo’s massive chair. She wore a magnificent black gown with a purple bodice trimmed in gold with miniature goblets in the fashion of Locthwain. A gauzy black veil half concealed her features, but her beauty and proud strength were evident to all. Her dark eyes studied the newcomers with an expression as unreadable as it was daunting.

  Both Will and Rowan offered their most gracious greetings, appropriate to give one of the rulers of the five courts. Will always felt his mother would know if he did not behave in a way that gave credit to his upbringing.

  Ayara raised her goblet in acknowledgement, drank in salute, and spoke not one word throughout the remainder of the feast. Her silence made Will’s skin crawl, although she didn’t appear hostile. Maybe she was just a reticent person, but mostly she seemed preoccupied. Her enigmatic gaze swept the hall at intervals as if she were looking for someone and could not find them. Her right hand restlessly turned her always-filled goblet. Yorvo occasionally addressed a comment to her, but mostly he applied himself to the twins, asking them questions about their lives as a kindly uncle would. Rowan relaxed enough to chatter at length about the tedious details of their arms training. Will found it amusing when Yorvo grilled her on proper axe and pole-axe techniques. But he was restless too. The evening’s feast dragged on interminably. He just wanted it to be over. Dawn couldn’t come soon enough.

  10

  In the pre-dawn twilight Will, Rowan, and the other four waited impatiently at the henge portal. Will was starting to get worried. What if they missed their chance? How would they find the stag?

  “Is King Yorvo coming?” he whispered.

  Elowen was leaning against the gate, head pressed to the iron-clad planks. “I think he’s already inside. The portal is awake and open. That’s odd. Very odd. Ear-pricklingly odd.”

  A scintillating aurora of lights played against the sky, then faded. A rumbling, grinding noise sounded from the other side of the gate. After it ceased, heavy footfalls approached. They retreated hastily as the gate swung outward. King Yorvo stood like a massive stone menhir looming against the dark sky.

  “I’ve already moved the stones in the alignment you requested,” he said.

  Elowen opened her mouth to ask a question but when the giant looked directly at her with a disapproving stare, she closed her lips and heaved a disgruntled sigh.

  He added, “We don’t have much time. Hurry.”

  The portal was at the center of the Great Henge, a rough circle of stones with a larger standing stone in the middle wrapped by the roots and branches of an ancient yew tree. The sun was already rising over the eastern hills. Within the pattern of its light, the shadows of the henge stones touched the portal stone in a distinct pattern.

  “You’re sure this will bring us close to the obelisks?” Rowan asked in her usual blunt way.

  “Why would you doubt me?” Elowen looked astonished. “I have spent more years wandering in the Wilds than you have been alive, young Rowan. And even I, the most knowledgeable of loremages—”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Rowan added.

  Elowen laughed. “Don’t be absurd.”

  Green magic crawled down the face of the central Gnomon and spun into a circle. As the light intensified, the stone circumscribed by the circular glimmer dissolved to become a pathway. What lay beyond Will could not perceive, only a glare so bright it hid the land they must walk into.

  “The portal will remain open until dusk today,” said King Yorvo. “In a year and a day, it will open again from dawn to dusk. After that—” He sighed. “After that, you will be considered lost forever.”

  The four friends looked at each other. Will would never have considered himself a coward, would have despised himself for the feeling. Yet he hesitated. Even Rowan and Cerise hesitated. Once through, they would walk straight into the deepest tangle of the Wilds where the boldest and most experienced knights might meet a brutal death. They had only the brief hours of midwinter daylight to find the stag before their path back to Garenbrig and the safety of the Realm would close for an entire year.

  Titus called, “Our time is now, friends!” He cast his net of heartening magic over the others, banishing doubt, then rode fearlessly through the shining portal without looking back. He and his horse sparkled until they became incandescent and, in a flare of shocking brightness, passed out of sight.

  “You were supposed to go first!” El
owen shouted at Cado. “Go on, old man!”

  Cado urged Hale forward, the griffin squawking as he leaped through the portal. Elowen and Cerise followed, leaving Rowan and Will to bring up the rear.

  Will raised a hand to shade his eyes but the glare became so painful he had to shut them. A change of pressure popped in his ears. The harder clop of his mount’s hooves on the packed dirt of the henge turned to the sinking thud of damp ground. A breeze brushed his face, heavy with the soporific scent of flowers. He opened his eyes to darkness untouched by stars or moon, a drowsy blanket of night steeped with humid air. Close at hand he heard the calming burble of a river.

  Where was this place? It didn’t feel like winter.

  Had Elowen or Yorvo lied to them? Were they in on the plot against the High King? Trembling, he drew his sword but could see nothing. If he couldn’t see, he couldn’t fight.

  “There!” cried Titus, from somewhere ahead.

  A light winked to the right, illuminating an artificial mound wreathed in vines that were covered in white flowers easily visible in the darkness because of their coruscating aura. Twin obelisks stood side by side at the mound’s top. A murky blue light traced the outlines of sigils carved into the pillars.

  More lights flared, revealing a ring of lanterns floating in a circle around the obelisks. Each lantern was shaped as a larger version of the vine flowers, petals burning with white fire. A horse and rider lurched into view at the farthest edge of the light’s aura, their features too shadowed to make out.

  “Wait!” Cado’s voice came from far to the left, nowhere near Titus, as if the party had been scattered by their passage through the portal. “Cerise? Elowen? Rowan?”

  “I’m here,” Will answered. “Titus, wait for us!”

  A bulb of yellow light popped into view to his left, illuminating the loremage as she peered around, discovering the two girls close by her. The bulb expanded until it shone like a full moon over the scene. Will found himself at the edge of the clearing he’d seen in his vision. At their backs rose a wall of tangled forest and the gleam of portal half hidden on the verge, its shape and light so faint he might easily have mistaken it for a magically shimmering spider’s web suspended in mid-air. Ahead rose the mound and beyond it lay a river.

  Titus rode toward the mound and its twin obelisks. “There’s something moving in the trees!”

  “Stop bellowing, you fool,” said Elowen. “Shouting attracts predators.”

  Cado yelled, “Titus! Beware!”

  His next words were drowned out by the thunderous rustling of a large creature rushing through the forest. A horse-sized drake burst out of the trees as if launched by a crossbow. It snatched Titus off the back of his mount, a talon on each shoulder. Titus shouted, struggling to shake free as the beast’s leathery wings boomed, beating skyward.

  Hale flapped into the air, Cado astride. An arrow loosed by Cerise bounced off the drake’s scaly back. Hale flew above it, then plummeted to slash at the drake’s eyes while Cado thrust with his spear at its vulnerable throat. The conjoined attack was too much for the drake. With a roar it released Titus and dove for the safety of the nearest trees.

  Titus hit the dirt, rolled, and came up in a kneeling position, braced on a hand as he shook off the shock of the drop.

  The others converged on him. Will leaped down from his horse and helped his friend to his feet. Both he and Titus could barely catch their breaths, pulses pounding in their ears and bodies shaking with adrenalin. The mage-light faded, returning the clearing to a murky twilight, although Will could now see the outlines of the surrounding trees.

  “Welcome to the Wilds,” said Elowen. “That was good team work for a cohort of novices. Though it wouldn’t have gone so well without Hale.”

  Rowan wiped her brow. “What was that thing?” she demanded.

  “A drake,” said Cerise. “Just like the ones drawn in our schoolbooks.”

  “No, I mean the shadow I saw over by the mound. It looked like a horse and rider.”

  “I saw it too,” said Will, peering nervously in that direction, “but it’s gone now.”

  “I saw nothing,” said Elowen.

  Hale landed with a thump, startling the horses. “Are you all well?” Cado asked. “Titus, are you injured?”

  “I’m fine,” Titus said with a snap of annoyance or perhaps embarrassment at having been taken by surprise. “Why are we here at night?”

  “The portal sent us west. It’s not yet dawn here.” Elowen indicated the eastern sky, slowly lightening to the rosy gray of pre-dawn. “The two possibilities we discussed on our journey—”

  “At length,” muttered Rowan.

  “—still seem most likely to me. Either the High King or his remains are hidden somewhere near these obelisks.”

  “Remains?” said Cado with a frown. “Is such language necessary in front of the children?”

  “We’re not children! Or naïve!” snapped Rowan, and Will was glad she’d jumped in so fast.

  Elowen nodded. “The girl is right, Cado. This isn’t a picnic. We shouldn’t pretend everything will be fine when the High King may already be dead.”

  The words hurt to hear, but Will knew they couldn’t hide from the ugly truth. “Let’s stick to what we do know,” he said. “How do we find the stag?”

  “The vision showed you the stag at the base of the mound with the sun rising between the obelisks. As long as we are in this clearing when the sun rises, the stag will come to us.”

  “How can you know today is the correct sunrise?” Will asked.

  “Did I not explain this already? This specific pair of obelisks is sited precisely so the midwinter sunrise shines exactly between them. The obelisks mark the border of the heart realm of the Wilds, the old crown city of the lost elven dominion. There are three other pyramids like this one, each with a pair of obelisks on top, each pair hewn from a different substance. Winter’s obelisks are carved from bone. The other three pairs mark the sun’s rising at midsummer and at the vernal and autumnal equinoxes.”

  Will stared at her, mouth agape. “You really do know so much.”

  “And so might you, young man, if you apply yourself and seek a knighthood at Vantress, as all the best people do.”

  Cado coughed.

  She smirked as she turned to him. “I doubt even you, Cado, have stood upon the shore of the river that encircles the heart realm of the Wilds. Few humans have seen it, and fewer still live to report that they’ve seen it. Yet here we are.”

  “As you say, fewer still live to report they’ve seen it, so I’ll get back to sentry duty,” Cado said. Hale leaped skyward in a flurry of wings. The pair settled into a slow circling of the clearing.

  “The sun moves slowly at the solstices,” Elowen said. “Since we are here and waiting for sunrise, you young ones have an unparalleled chance to catch a glimpse of the ancient glory and extraordinary mysteries that dwell here at the heart of the Wilds. It will be something for you to brag of, should any of you live to grow old and boastful. Look!”

  She cast another bulb of light. Propelled by her magic, the bright sphere drifted past the mound and illuminated the bank of the river. A pair of bridges stood side by side, one carved of jade and the other of obsidian. They arched over the water toward a gloomy shore impossible to make out, obscured by a denser shroud than twilight.

  “You can’t see the heart realm until you cross,” said Elowen wistfully. “But you can inhale the enchantment of its charm-drenched flowers.”

  The air did indeed smell heady with blooms whose scents made Will dizzy. A breeze tickled his ears as with the breath of invisible sprites teasing him with their chortling whispers. His hair stirred as if raked by tiny claws. Will flapped his hands on either side of his head, and the noise quieted.

  “Why is it warm, like summer?” he asked. “Why isn’t there snow here?”

  “The seasons in the Wilds do not follow the reliable pattern of our own. They shift as changeably as an elf-queen�
�s whim. But the sun’s rising remains constant. Thus, the obelisks. Do you see that flame?”

  The flame, barely more than a flicker, floated in the darkness of the opposite shore. It was either a small flame not far away or a huge bonfire many leagues distant.

  Elowen went on. “The fire burns at the tip of the wing of a petrified dragon whose stone corpse was carved eons ago into an amphitheater. That’s where the great Council met in days of yore. It’s said the elves recognized neither king nor queen but, like the assembly in Embereth, argued over everything until they came to agreement. Long lived as they are, I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered to them if it took years to reach consensus. It’s rumored a council still meets, but I’ve never seen it for myself, so I can’t be sure.”

  “I thought you’d seen everything,” said Rowan, and this time Will heard no sarcasm or jest in her tone.

  “I have walked in the empty amphitheater and marveled at the old city’s fallen spires and the delicate bones of its architecture. I have listened to a tune plucked from the ensorcelled strings of an elven lute. I have tasted spring water from the Well of Ghosts and suffered through a gale midway across the span of the Bridge of Regrets. But of all the perilous places in the Wilds, the borders of the heart realm are most perilous of all. The elves are usually indifferent to the likes of me, because I am not here to fight but to learn. But that doesn’t mean they want loremages tramping around their precious sanctuaries. Dangerous creatures often come to drink from the river’s magical waters.” She touched the scar at her throat. With narrowed eyes she scanned the trees and sky, but it was still too dark to see anything except the barest outlines of the landscape.

  “Why are there two bridges?” Will asked.

  “Wouldn’t one be enough?” Rowan added. “The obsidian bridge is so beautiful.”

  Elowen clucked disapprovingly. “Don’t they teach you children anything? Never, ever cross an obsidian bridge in the Wilds.”

  “Why not?”

  A shrill whistle from overhead broke the twilight hush: Danger!