Earth Magic: A Kingdoms of Kambrya novel (The High King of Kambrya Book 1)

by Kenneth Price

  "It was a dream, but it was also real. In a way, both Torcull and I were really there. I was able to enter your dreams because I was right next to you. Torcull has found another way into your dreams." The Druid sank into a chair next to Elwin.

  "Maybe now you will start believing me. You are in danger." Faynn looked at the mug in Elwin's hands. "Now drink. It will make your head feel better. Then we will talk."

  “Then it was you who saved my life at the Dryrot!?"

  "I guess," Faynn replied, shrugging his shoulders. "But as I said, others helped as well. And you played a part, too. To be honest, that part still confuses me. I thought you were done for. You are a fascinating young man."

  "Then you did not bring that... that Red Robe to kill me?"

  Faynn smiled. "No, Elwin. I did not bring the Nightling. I hope you can believe that. If you remember, I did try to warn you. Now drink."

  Regretfully, Elwin shook his head. "You did warn me. I am sorry I did not listen."

  "That is now the past. Just drink up and we will talk."

  Elwin looked down at the mug. "I can't drink this. It looks and smells awful."

  "It actually tastes worse than it looks. However, it will help your head."

  "By making my stomach sick!?" asked Elwin, but he held his nose and forced down some of the liquid which indeed tasted worse then it smelled.

  "That's disgusting!" Elwin exclaimed.

  "All of it," ordered Faynn.

  "All of it!? I'll die!"

  "Stop arguing and drink it."

  Elwin groaned, but he managed to down the foul-tasting liquid. The drink worked fast, and Elwin quickly started feeling better.

  "What was that appalling stuff? Magic?" he asked suspiciously. The thought of magic being used on him gave him a cold shiver. Throughout Kambrya, the teachings of the Anthary Doctrine had been banned, and all forms of magic and the use of magic outlawed in all the Kambryan kingdoms. The Anthary Doctrine taught that all magic was evil, and all users should be put to death.

  "A cure. Herbs and spices," replied Faynn, "nothing more."

  Trying not to look too relieved, Elwin put down the mug and glanced over at the Druid.

  Faynn's gray eyes which had scared Elwin at the Dryrot Inn now looked soft and kind. Faynn confused Elwin. On one hand, the mysterious man frightened him, yet on the other hand, he liked the Druid. So you came back to the Inn and saved me from the Nightling. But I still do not know why. You must want something from me. Then out loud Elwin said, "Thank you, I feel much better. That stuff works fast."

  Faynn answered with a smile and a nod.

  "I also want to thank you for saving me at the Inn last night. Actually, I guess it was longer ago than that. But it feels as if it was last night."

  Faynn shrugged. "Actually, I did very little. It was your friends who fought off the soldiers."

  "I meant the Red Robe."

  Faynn shook his head. "That's the part that I am still unsure of. You see, I arrived too late. The Nightling already had you linked to him. If I had attacked the Red Robe, as you call the Nightling, you would have died. To tell you the truth, I have no idea why you are alive. You really should be dead. But somehow you broke the Nightling's link. How did you do that?"

  "It was you and what you kept telling me... To fight. I did not want to listen at first, but eventually you got through."

  "Me?" asked Faynn, with a look of surprise.

  "I heard you," stated Elwin. He remembered the voice that called out to him, the voice that had called him back. Without that voice to cling to like a lifeline, Elwin was sure he would have died that night. He had presumed the life-saving voice had been the Druid's. Who else would have used magic or even know how?

  "You heard me? I said nothing to you. And you could not have heard me if I had."

  "But I heard you. You called to me. You told me to fight back."

  Faynn's face took on a look of deeper interest, as he raised his eyebrows in growing curiosity. "Someone spoke to you?"

  "Yes. It wasn't you? It sounded familiar, and it helped me to resist the Red Robe."

  "Well, that is very interesting. Perhaps you had better tell me everything."

  Elwin leaned forward. He still wondered if he should trust the man, but he needed to tell somebody what had happened. Elwin also wanted some answers, and just maybe the Druid had some. So Elwin began to tell the story of his nightmarish encounter with the Red Robe. Telling it brought back feelings Elwin wished he had forgotten, and he began to shake, and his voice faltered.

  "Relax," Faynn said reassuringly. "You are safe. Take some deep breaths, and then start again."

  Elwin nodded and tried to breathe in deep steady breaths. "That's better," said Faynn with a sincere look of compassion. Faynn watched Elwin compose himself. The Nightling had affected the young prince in ways that Elwin still did not comprehend. No one could be touched by such darkness and not be affected. It was that touch that had made Elwin so sick with fever. The evilness of the Nightling nearly killed Elwin. The fever had broken, and Elwin now looked healthier, but the Red Robe had left a residue. Faynn could feel it, but he could do nothing about it. "I know it is hard to talk about," continued Faynn, "but it might be important."

  "I will try," consented Elwin. He then told Faynn of the pain, and how the monk had tried to lure him into a darkness that he now knew was death. Then Elwin spoke of the mysterious voice; the voice that had called him by name and had taken away the pain. Elwin remembered breaking free of the Red Robe's burning hands and then coming out of the fog.

  "Then I heard shouts, and there was fighting everywhere. I saw you. Then someone grabbed me. There was a flash of light. That's the last thing I remember."

  Finishing his tale, Elwin sat back into the chair. Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to push away the dark memories.

  Faynn shook his head. "Strange. Very strange indeed. I have no idea who you heard. But whoever it was is the one who actually saved your life."

  Then Faynn fell silent. He frowned slightly, trying to figure out who the voice could have possibly been. Giving up, he shook his head once more. "Very strange."

  "But what was that light?" asked Elwin.

  Faynn looked up. "That part was me. Once you were free of the Nightling, I could act against it. After struggling with you, it was in a weakened condition and did not put up much of a fight."

  "Magic?"

  Faynn nodded. "Yes, Prince Elwin. I used magic. Does that bother you?"

  "I guess not," Elwin lied, and then asked, "Did you kill it?" He would sleep better at night if he knew that the monk was dead.

  "No," replied Faynn. "Nightlings are very powerful. They are not easy to kill. Even in its weakened condition, I could do no more than drive it away. I am not even sure they can be killed. In truth, they are not actually alive. But they can be hurt, and for now, it is gone. It is hiding, licking its wounds."

  "Who grabbed me?" Elwin asked, trying to change the subject away from the Nightling. But the thoughts would not go away. The Nightling is still out there, and not too far away. Just the thought sent a cold shiver down Elwin's spine despite the heat from the fire.

  "Just about everyone in the room," answered Faynn. "You were drawing your sword, and looked like you were going to run out of the Inn. There were still soldiers outside, and some fierce fighting was still going on. You had just escaped one trap, and you were about to run into another. Then you passed out. The Red Robe touched you deeply. For a while there, I thought you were going to leave us. But you are made of some tough stuff, Prince Elwin. You survived what no one should have."

  Still finding the whole experience terrifying, Elwin did not want to think of the Red Robe anymore, but he knew the Nightling was not finished with him yet. Elwin had but one thought: to get as far away from the monk as he could. "Where can I go?"

  "That has yet to be decided," said Faynn. "The Nightling is still out there. Fleeing is our only hope. And now, the Night
ling knows I am here. Next time it will not be taken by surprise. But for the time being, you are safe. You need to rest and...," Faynn hesitated, "there is still more. There are things you must know. However, you should not hear them from me. There are others more appropriate for that."

  "Others?" questioned Elwin. "Brother Partinas mentioned others as well."

  Faynn stood up, "I shall get them."

  CHAPTER SIX

  The door swung open. Elwin's heart skipped a beat. Digging his fingers into the arms of the chair, he stared at his lap. Forcing himself, he slowly turned his head. In the doorway stood Pallas and Pallas' mother, the Countess Kytherin Murray. Kytherin was like a mother to Elwin. Elwin had only vague memories of his own mother. Elwin's mother had been a sickly woman and had died when Elwin was still very young, and his father had never remarried. In the past three years, Kytherin had become the mother Elwin never had.

  Looking over his shoulder, Elwin stared at the two. Both Pallas and the countess had long, drawn-out faces. Then two more people entered the room. One was a big muscular youth with dirty blond hair, and just the beginnings of a beard. His coarse, thick hair was cut short, exposing his angular face. At his side stood a short boyish looking youth. He was no more than five feet tall. His long golden yellow hair was pulled back behind his head where it was fastened with a thick leather thong. His strange forest green eyes stared across the room. His pointed ears and green eyes left little doubt that he was a wood Elf. Standing next to each other, the Elf and the big youth made a comical pair.

  Immediately recognized them, Elwin smiled as he came to his feet. They were Aidan, an Elf from the Green, and Colin, son of the Earl of Llanbaedarn of Ceredigion. Both were Elwin's and Pallas' childhood friends. Momentarily, Elwin forgot his fear. It had been years since he had seen them. He gave each a long hug. Colin stiffened awkwardly at the embrace. Still smiling, Elwin stepped back and looked at each of his friends, taking in their welcome and familiar faces. Admittedly they were both a few years older now and maybe a bit hardened, but still, they were Elwin's closest friends, and it felt right to have his childhood friends once again in the same room. "What are you doing here?" Elwin finally asked.

  "We have come to see you, of course," piped-up Aidan's soft musical voice. The Elf smiled, but there was an underlying concern that betrayed Aidan's true feelings.

  Ignoring the worry written across Aidan's face, Elwin smiled in response. It felt good to be with his friends once more. It was almost like being home. But something gnawed at his mind. Something was not right. Someone was missing. "How did you ever find me?" Elwin asked.

  "The druid brought us," said Colin, his voice sounding gruff. "You may not remember, but we saw you at the Dryrot Inn. We surprised the soldiers from the rear. With the aid of the town’s folk, the city guard, and Faynn, we were able to drive them off."

  Elwin did not remember, but he did recall the sounds of a battle. As a boy, Colin had been the best swordsman for his age, and better than many of the older boys as well. It would not have surprised Elwin if Colin had single-handedly driven the soldiers off. However, the Red Robe was something different. Elwin doubted that even Colin's skill could affect the monk. The Nightling was beyond the power of steel.

  "They have brought sad news," Kytherin said suddenly, and Elwin's mood became dark once more.

  Stiffening, Elwin looked at Colin, then at Aidan. Nervously, Elwin's eyes shifted from one friend to the other. His throat went dry. His smile slipped from his face. Elwin realized that Aidan and Colin were messengers.

  "Come," Kytherin said. "Let us sit." She took Elwin by the hand and gently led him back to the chair. Falling into the chair, Elwin felt as if he were plunging back into the dark abyss of the Red Robe. His world suddenly seemed to be crumbling apart.

  "I wish we could have come with better news," stated Colin, his voice quiet and solemn. "Things have not been good in Ceredigion. Your fath..." his voice faltered. Unable to go on, he looked down at Aidan for help.

  Aidan gave Colin a short nod. With a great heaviness, the Elf turned and faced Elwin. Unable to look Elwin in the eyes, the teary-eyed Elf dropped his head. "I am so sorry, Elwin, but... your father has... died. He was murdered."

  Elwin blinked. It took a moment, but slowly the words sank in. His body began to shake. He wanted to tell them they were wrong, and yet he knew they were not. His heart lodged in his throat. The weight of the truth was dragging him downwards. Actually, Elwin had known the truth for some time, but he had denied it. Now it was suddenly real. He could remember when he first realized his father had died. It had been several months ago, just after the first snows had sealed-off Reidh from the rest of the world. In a cold sweat, Elwin had awakened in the middle of the night. It was at that moment that he knew his father had died, but at the time Elwin could not accept it. A bad dream, he had told himself, and dreams are not real or so he had thought. Elwin had fooled himself into believing it was just his imagination. Yet, it was the reason he needed to get home. Elwin knew something was wrong, but now it was too late. He felt the tears he had been holding in for months swelling up. No longer able to hold them back, he began to sob. His young body shook with pent up grief.

  Kneeling before him, Kytherin held Elwin close. She whispered words of comfort. Crying, Elwin held her as tightly as he could. Shaking uncontrollably, he was grateful for her arms and the sound of her kind voice.

  After a time, Elwin finally pulled back from Kytherin. He wiped the tears from his face.

  "How?" His voice sounded empty.

  "You should rest first," whispered Kytherin. She too had tears running down her face.

  Shaking his head, Elwin met her eyes. "I need to know." His young voice sounded hoarse and yet determined. Aidan was still crying, so Elwin turned to Colin. "Colin, will you tell me?"

  Colin had held his tears in, but he could not hide the grief in the look he gave Elwin. To Colin, Elwin was both friend and Lord. Elwin was the Prince of Ceredigion, the heir to the throne. Once crowned, he would be king. As his friend, Colin wanted to spare Elwin the pain, but as his prince, Colin knew that Elwin had both the right and need to know the truth. Colin gave him a stiff, uncomfortable nod. He did not want to be the one to tell him, but he knew he would be the one. His voice trembling, Colin started the tale of betrayal and murder.

  --

  Several months earlier and far to the north, a young woman with silky black hair had also mourned the loss of her father. Her long straight hair shimmered in the evening light. It flowed over her narrow shoulders and cascaded down her straight back. Like every night since she had returned home, she stood before her bedroom chamber window. The beautiful young woman was no more than sixteen. She was too young to feel such sadness. From the castle window, her large dark eyes stared mournfully out over the city of Acair. Beyond the city walls rose the Northern Drygan mountains. Sighing, she looked at the towering snowcapped peaks. For as long as she could remember, she had looked out at those mountains. Once, she had found them beautiful, but not anymore. There was a time when she thought of the Northern Drygan Mountains as a friend. The majestic peaks were always there to comfort her. Those were happier days. Those days were now gone. The mountains had not changed yet somehow the mountains, like everyone else, had betrayed her. The mountains seemed to mock her. Now when she needed them the most, they refused to offer her any comfort. Instead, they were only a constant reminder that she was a prisoner in her own home and that the happy days were gone forever.

  An eagle soaring above the castle walls cried out. Standing out against the darkening sky, the eagle circled, searching the ground below. Then with mighty strokes of its wings, the great bird turned and raced off towards the mountains. From the castle window, the dark eyed girl watched the eagle until it finally vanished into the distance.

  Dropping her head, she moaned, "Everything is free but me." Sadly she turned her attention back to the mountains. For the past three weeks, she had watched the mountains wanting to see if
the strange lights would come again. Each night, just after sunset, lights could be seen high in the mountains. It was only a little distraction, but any distraction from her sadness was a welcome one. As the blue sky darkened, stars began to pop out. Then the lights appeared. Among the high country known as the Land of the Eagles, tiny fires flickered and danced. Over two dozen fires dotted the mountains above the city. But who could be up there? Leina wondered. She knew it could not be the dwarfs who make their home at the foot of the mountains. The dwarfs do not venture up so high. Even if they could climb up there, they would not. The mountain people prefer the roots of the mountains to the high country. They believe the high mountains are haunted and belong to the spirits. The Northern Drygan mountains were steep, and supposedly they could not be climbed, yet there were the fires. Standing at her window, she prayed that the rumors would come true. It was said that the fires were an omen foretelling of the death of the new king of Ceredigion.

  There was little she wanted more than to see the new king dead at her feet.

  In the outer chamber of her suite, a door opened. She did not have to guess who it would be. There was only one person who entered her rooms without permission; her jailer and cousin, Parlan. She heard his heavy footsteps entering her bedroom chamber.

  "Parlan, can't you knock?!" she snapped, still staring out the window.

  "Would you have let me in?" he asked.

  There was a smugness to his voice that made her shake with anger. "Of course not!" she snapped, not trying to hide her distaste for him. She turned and faced her cousin with a wrathful gaze. He wore the maroon and silver colors of the Gruffydd family. Seeing him in the royal colors only angered her more. His long dark hair was pulled and tied back into a ponytail so that his hair would not hide his handsome features. One did have to admit he was a handsome young man. But his eyes were as cold as any she had ever seen. Crowning his head was a thin silver crown of interlaced of small leaves and vines.