“It is Caedmon Conn! Caedmon has come!” a soldier cheered.
The massive blue wolf slowed and gauged the situation. He lowered back down onto bent legs and neared the general’s position.
Gavina’s gaze shifted between the ancient wolf and the Nathra. The creatures’ rage diminished, and a solitary Nathra stepped forward as it began to communicate to the wolf with high-pitched chirping sounds.
“I am sorry,” Caedmon remarked to the Nathra. “I am saddened to hear about your losses.”
The small attacker chirped in various notes and communicated with Caedmon in complete thoughts.
“I understand, but the people of Darnum did not attack you,” Caedmon said.
The Nathra continued communicating with Caedmon.
“Yes, I know about the creature you speak of and assure you it acts alone,” Caedmon said. “It may have come from the east, but it did not come from here.”
The beast chirped.
“Yes, I will tell them,” Caedmon said.
The beast chirped again, and then the other Nathra began turning around and walking away. The lead Nathra chirped once more to Caedmon.
“It will be stopped. I promise,” Caedmon said.
The thousands of Nathra left and headed back to their homeland.
Caedmon walked over to the elven soldiers, “General?” He searched their ranks.
Gavina was confounded by the events taking place, “Yes? I am General Gavina.”
“The Nathra formally apologize for their actions. A number of their packs were attacked by an unfamiliar creature. They saw it come from the east and associated it with the elven city of Darnum,” Caedmon explained.
“What? But people died!” Gavina shouted furiously.
“I understand. It was a grave misunderstanding. They are not the most intelligent race,” Caedmon said. “I am sorry for the lives lost.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “We just let them go?”
“Yes,” he said. “More pressing matters need tending.”
“Like what?” she shouted at Caedmon, furious her men had died in vain.
“Things are changing,” he said.
“Can you be any more cryptic, Caedmon?” she steamed.
“I am sorry, Gavina, but I cannot speak of the matters in public,” he said. “I must speak to the king. I request your presence as well.”
“Mine?” she said.
“If you wish,” he said. “It will shed light on what happened here today.”
Gavina glared at Caedmon for a moment, furious the Nathra were allowed to walk out of Darnum without consequence for their actions, but she knew Caedmon was wise. She reluctantly nodded in agreement.
“I will accompany the citizens of Darnum as they evacuate to Lesley. We must leave this city. It is no longer safe here,” Caedmon said. “I promise you. You do not want to stay.”
Gavina was reluctant to move the entire population of Darnum. What would the king say? Would the people accept Caedmon’s request?
“I will notify the people, but I cannot promise everyone will listen,” she said. “It is a drastic change with little reason. Some people may not want to leave their homes.”
“I understand,” he said. “Do what you can.”
Gavina suddenly remembered Faolan.
“Caedmon! I need your help,” she said. “Please! Take this young elf to the twin healers.”
She ran over to Faolan, who was unconscious. Caedmon followed her. He picked up Faolan and hoisted the bloody scout onto his shoulder.
“I will take him, but you must hurry, General. The hibernations have ended,” Caedmon said.
With those ominous words, the wolf guardian took off toward the east, with Faolan on his shoulder. He left Gavina as sudden understanding took hold of her.
Chapter 4
“Rising Fears”
“Many paths must cross and many roads will form, yet fog will make them hard to see.”
The Ikalreev Prophecies 3:1
Faolan woke to the sensation of steady, slow movement as he rolled his head to the side and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times and let his eyes adjust to the bright torchlight. The torch was sitting on the corner of the uncovered wooden wagon that he was lying on. The disoriented scout felt a slight tug on his left shoulder and looked in its direction. His eyes came to rest on a very beautiful young elf wearing a light-blue dress over her slender form. She had long and wavy golden hair, which fell along both sides of her pale, innocently smiling face. Her light-blue eyes glistened in the torchlight as she finished wrapping his left shoulder with a bandage.
“I did not mean to wake you. I just needed to replace your bandages,” she said with a warm smile at the scout. “The old ones were soaked with blood and starting to smell. I am surprised you are still alive but glad I could save you from bleeding out. By right, you should not have recovered at all from the amount of blood you lost. I suppose that would make you one of Igtharia’s blessed children.”
“Perhaps I am just lucky.” Faolan attempted to smile.
“Perhaps.” The elf maiden smiled in return.
“What is your name?” the young scout asked.
“Aili. What is yours?” she asked kindly, returning the pleasantry.
“Faolan. I wish we could have met on better terms,” he jested, then tensed in pain.
“Do not feel bad. I meet most people in this manner,” the fair healer replied. “It was quite a brave thing you did back there for the soldiers in Darnum.”
“A bit unwise too,” he said with a chuckle.
“Quite so. I trust you will be more careful from now on and try not to be a hero.”
“No promises, but I will try.”
“I suppose that is good enough for now; I cannot change you overnight to a life of caution, now, can I?”
While Faolan was looking up at her, he found himself drawn to her natural beauty. He could not help but smile at her as his mind became distracted by admiring thoughts of the alluring elf maiden.
She noticed his sudden quiet and persistent stare. “What are you staring at?”
The young scout blinked and shook his head as a giddy nervousness overtook him. “I am sorry. I did not mean to be rude. My apologies.”
The fair healer, who was prone to smiling, gave a sideways grin at his awkwardness. “Do not worry. It is not the first time it has happened to me.”
A sudden wave of pain shot through his body, and his back arched off the wagon in reaction. The beautiful healer quickly placed a gentle hand on his chest and leaned close to his ear. She began to softly sing a pleasant melody. As he listened to her calming voice, the scout’s pain diminished, and he slipped back into the realm of dreams.
“Soon your pain will be gone,” she whispered warmly.
The elf maiden continued her song to ensure the scout remained asleep. While she tended to Faolan, her twin was driving the wagon and eavesdropping on their conversation. He was the type who enjoyed listening where his ears did not belong. As the healer’s brother held on to the horses’ reins, his eyes began to close as he unwittingly listened to her song of slumbering. His eyes tried to fight the urge, but it was no use, and they slowly shut. Yet just as his mind started to dream, he caught himself. He jerked his head back up and opened his eyes wide. He shook his head in defiance at the lulling melody.
“Hah! Not this time,” the elf victoriously said. “Not. This. Time.”
The brother healer strained with all his might not to listen to the soothing lyrics and focused on the road ahead. He was determined to fight the pacifying magic and overcome his reoccurring personal plight.
Auvelia quietly sat near Faolan’s feet with tear-filled eyes. She knew her adoptive son would recover, but she felt for him because she had never seen him so greatly injured before. Her motherly side wanted to help him and wished for him to not be in pain but knew she had to allow the healer to work her magic.
Her husband sat next to the twin brother on the
driver’s bench and was unaffected by the persistent pain in his shoulder. The injury was not his first wound, and he was well aware it would not be his last. The seasoned warrior did not let his emotions sway; the years he had served as a general in the elven army had molded him into a pillar of strength.
Gavina walked alongside the wagon with Caedmon and wondered about his words in Darnum. The wolf guardian was a sight to behold because it is rather rare for one to lay their eyes on the ancient beast. The Ikalreev creation remained rather busy as he continuously attempted to protect the races in some way or another at all times.
The dark-haired general wondered what the old guardian had meant by his comments after the Nathra had retreated. The hibernations have ended. What was he talking about? It was no longer safe in Darnum, but why? She was not fond of cryptic messages or half truths. Gavina was a straight shooter and problem solver, a general of upstanding regard. So she walked near Caedmon, deep in thought and speculation.
The old wolf glanced down at her from the corner of his eye. “What bothers you, half-elf?”
The dark-haired general lifted her gaze and quietly replied, “Your words, Caedmon . . . have the dragons awakened?”
The ancient protector looked away. “It would not be wise to speak of it here. You will know soon enough, when we have council with the king.”
She was unhappy with the answer but knew the wise creature was right. The concerned general staved her worry and tried to ease her mind with other, less dire subjects. The half-elf glanced at the wagon where the unconscious scout rested and looked to make idle conversation with the great guardian.
“Can you believe that young one jumped off the wall onto a Nathra?” she mentioned in slight amusement.
The wolf took note of the still form in the wagon. “Why would he do that?”
“Either to make an entrance or to protect my soldiers. Hard to tell, really. A silly scout trying to play hero, I suppose.”
“What were his odds?”
“Of survival or the Nathra he faced?” she asked.
“Both.”
“Ah, survival was slim on his own, as you can see by his current state, and the number of Nathra he faced at the time was a few dozen with thousands yet to pour through the west gate.”
The wolf guardian gazed down at the half-elf general and raised a brow. “Sounds like a guardian in the making to me.”
“What? You cannot be serious. He could have died!”
“I know. The probability of death in the face of insurmountable odds is what makes a guardian. Deep down there is something that draws them to danger and prevents them from succumbing to fear, even though they may be drowning in it. They are a rare and powerful breed who are hard to find,” the ancient protector explained.
“You are sure he is not just a fool with a wish for death?”
He shrugged and weighed the possibility. “I suppose there is a chance he is simply a fool. Only time will tell.”
She was surprised he was taking this thought seriously because the guardians were a completely different type of soldier and normally had powers or abilities that would assist in such dire situations. The general was uncertain about Caedmon’s sudden confidence in the unconscious scout who seemingly had no special qualities about him. The half-elf shrugged it off and looked forward to the discussion with the king and wondered how the intimidating royal would handle all the information.
The procession of soldiers and citizens continued through the night as all of Darnum evacuated south to Lesley. Most of the citizens were reluctant to make the move south, but they held the great Ikalreev wolf guardian in such high regard that they would not turn away from his cautious counsels. The long line of evacuees meandered through the tall redwood forest known as the Mythios Woods and made their way toward the great forest elf city of Lesley, the heart of the Harmaalinna Kingdom.
◆◆◆
Faolan woke and shielded his eyes from the bright morning’s sun. He sat up in bed and glanced around the small room, which was adorned with tapestries and hangings. There was a single window to the left, and a wooden door sat across from the foot of his bed. He thought it was odd for such a high-quality tapestry with the king’s insignia on it to be found in a healer’s home. After a moment, he looked down and noticed he was missing most of his clothing. He had no shirt, and his right pant leg seemed to have been cut off near the top of his thigh. Whoever cut his pants must have been in a hurry, he thought, because the cut was frayed. He also had bandages wrapped around his torso, shoulders, arms, and right thigh.
Someone knocked at the door. Faolan hesitated, and then he slid out of bed. He walked over to the door and opened it. A female elf, dressed in extravagant clothing, stood in the hall.
“Good to see you are finally awake, Faolan,” she said with a smile.
“Hello,” he said. “Who are you?”
“I am Sildria. I have been your caretaker since you arrived,” she said.
“Of course. Umm, where am I?” he said, as he noticed her unusually quick pace of words.
“You are in King Zael’s castle,” Sildria said. “You have been here for three and a half days.”
“King Zael has been requesting you, but it has been impossible to wake you from the healer’s magic. Aili’s is especially strong. Smart girl. She uses magic in her voice. Sings people to sleep so they do not feel pain. Quite clever, I say,” Sildria said. “Here, take these clothes for now. When you are ready, I will take you to the throne room.” She handed over several neatly folded articles of clothing.
Faolan raised an eyebrow at the fast-talking elf.
“Do you need something else?” she said.
“No.” He shook his head and closed the door. He hesitated behind the door, astonished he had slept for so long. Although it was probably for the best as he imagined sitting in bed and listening to Sildria talk the entire time. Her voice was pleasant, and she was beautiful, but she talked very fast and would make his mind spin in minutes. Faolan removed his pants and put on the new clothing Sildria had given him. He wondered why the king would wish to speak to him. He was only a scout. He did not have a high enough rank to have much say in things.
The new clothes turned out to be another green uniform, the same scout attire. Faolan threw the old pants onto the unmade bed and walked to the door. When he opened it, he noticed Sildria had not moved.
She greeted him with a smile. “Good. Follow me. The king is waiting.”
Sildria walked down the long, well-lit hallway, and Faolan obediently followed. They passed numerous wooden doors and several spiral stone stairways. After some time, they came upon an intersecting hallway and turned left. Faolan looked at the tapestries and paintings littering the walls. There were so many he could not believe it. Finally, the small hallway opened up into a very large room, the main hall. Faolan looked around in wonder. A great chandelier hung from high above in the midst of the magnificent room. Two giant wooden doors stood ajar to his right, opening onto a beautiful courtyard filled with statues and plants.
To his left, he noticed a very wide stairway consisting of three tiers. The stairs grew progressively smaller from bottom to top. On each tier and on either side of the shrinking stairway stood decorations, tapestries of purple and gold with the royal insignia on them, as well as pedestals with past kings’ crowns resting on them. Soldiers lined the room’s walls and stairs in a rigid stance.
Faolan followed the female elf up the wide stairway to a pair of formidable doors. A line of five heavily armored soldiers stood guard before the red doors. Stern faces and a hand on each hilt greeted the new arrivals. The middle soldier looked down at Faolan from the narrow eye-slits of his helmet.
“Who comes before King Zael?” the soldier said.
“The king has requested an audience with this young scout. His name is Faolan,” Sildria said.
The formidable soldier looked at Faolan and then motioned for the other guards to open the heavy doors. The guard motioned for the
scout to enter. Faolan stepped forward and looked at Sildria for reassurance. She motioned him on. He realized she would not be accompanying him any farther. He continued through the doors without her and gazed on the king’s throne room.
In the far wall stood forty-foot-tall windows. Sunlight shined through them and illuminated the throne room. Violet tapestries embroidered with the crest of the royal family lined the side walls. A blazing-red rug with golden trim and an intricate white design covered the floor. In the midst of the throne room sat a long white marble table trimmed in gold, with chairs lining both sides. Faolan saw General Gavina, Kellen, and Auvelia sitting along the left.
He did not recognize the three individuals sitting on the right, but he guessed they were members of the royal family. Their clothes were extravagant, and their heads were held high. The two elf maidens wore diamond-lined ear clips along the full length of their pointed ears and form-fitting silk robes with shades of vibrant blues, greens, and white. The male wore a burgundy silk form-fitting outfit with an intricate, black embroidered pattern.
The heavy doors slammed shut behind him. Warm smiles greeted him as he rounded the table’s end. He neared his mother and looked at the king, who was patiently sitting on his magnificent throne. The throne sat on a raised portion of the floor, beyond the table’s far end. Faolan sat in the chair next to Auvelia, and then the king stood, his vibrant clothing billowing around his slender form.
“Welcome, Faolan. I am Zael, King of the Forest Elves. I am pleased to finally meet you. I have requested your presence because General Gavina has informed me about your recent heroics in Darnum. I wished to personally thank you for aiding our forces during the defense. Your actions exceeded the expectations of a scout. Allow me the privilege of granting you a gift in honor of your service,” Zael reached into his robe and pulled out a dagger and sheath, covered in precious gems and metals. The king presented the dagger to Faolan.
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