The conversation between the four of them died down as the prince shied away from further abrasive discussion, and Gavina kept low after Treasach’s impulsive outburst.
After a short time, Kellen instructed his royal companion to take the lead so he could drop back and speak to his son. Treasach and Gavina took over the lead positions as Auvelia and Kellen slowed down. Faolan’s parents guided their horses beside the wagon and matched its pace near the front bench.
Kellen cleared his throat. “Son, how do you fare?”
“I have been better,” Faolan stated. His body was still sore from his encounter with Waremasu, and he was exhausted as he had not slept since Lesley. The time he had spent unconscious near the Scar had drained him even more and had proved neither restful nor regenerative.
“It has been quite a while since we have been able to talk with you,” Auvelia said.
“Yes, it has,” the young guardian agreed.
Kellen glanced at his adoptive son with a concerned eye. “It feels as if we have grown apart since our time at Darnum, back before all this started, when it was just us three.”
Faolan could sense their concern and guessed at the reasons for their worry. “A little, but you do not have to fret. I am doing well, all things considered. I am sore from the encounter with the stranger, though on a lighter note, my wounds from Mor seem to have healed, thanks to Aili’s magic. Small scarring remains, but that is to be expected, I suppose.”
“That is good to hear,” his mother replied.
“How do you feel about being the leader?” Kellen inquired.
Faolan contemplated his situation before answering. “Not as well as I had hoped.”
“Why do you say that?” his mother asked.
“There are only questions about our problems, not answers. Two of our party members are unconscious, and Caedmon is injured for a reason he has yet to tell me. Also, we are no closer to defeating this Initiate than when we were back at Mor, and things only grow worse. My own capabilities prove inadequate for this journey, and I have yet to demonstrate more than weakness in leadership.” Faolan explained his conflicting emotions.
“You should not be so hard on yourself. This journey is not simple, and it will not be easy to overcome what lies ahead. What we face is not of worldly means, and to place so much on your shoulders bears misunderstanding. We are a group, and you are not responsible for everything or everyone. Each of us bears responsibility for the outcome of the events before us,” Kellen reasoned as he gazed at the path ahead. “You should look at the positives, Faolan, not the negatives. Assessing both warrants wisdom, but to dwell on the negative aspects will prove taxing. Instead, focus on what you have and what can boost your men’s morale.”
Kellen glanced over at his son and continued. “We have found more Ikalreev mages, and no lives under your care have been lost; furthermore, we are close to the trials, and soon we will be able to stop the Initiate.”
“Focus on what you can affect, not on what is out of your control. It only comes to waste and needlessly burdens your mind,” Auvelia added.
Faolan nodded and understood his parents’ words, but doubt still entered his mind. “What if I fail?”
“You will not fail,” his father asserted. “Do you remember the Shadow Guardians’ code?”
“Yes.”
“Any time you believe you will fail, recite the code to yourself. Repeat it until you believe it as fact. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Recite it now,” his father suggested.
“We, the Shadow Guardians, serve the king and his kingdom. We protect the innocent and the weak. We are instruments of war and voices of peace. I am one of many. I will stand alone in order to protect the few. I walk alone so no other must. I will not falter. I will not fail.”
“You will not fail . . . good, remember those words. Always,” Kellen commanded and smiled at his son proudly. “Believe in yourself at all times, and the men who follow your command in the days to come will do the same.”
Faolan listened respectfully to his adoptive father’s guidance and took to heart his wisdom. He knew his father was an experienced leader who had led an army with unwavering confidence.
Auvelia spoke from experience. “Being a Shadow Guardian means there will be times when you do stand alone or undertake a journey with no one by your side. You must remain physically strong and steadfast, but it is also imperative you maintain a resolute spirit without fail.”
“Did you stand alone? At times during your service as a Shadow Guardian?” Faolan asked his mother.
“Yes, many times,” Auvelia admitted as her eyes shifted into a distant gaze, and she experienced quick flashes from the memories associated with her service.
Faolan understood his parents’ words, but he still doubted his ability. The gravity of the situation had significantly grown since they had departed Lesley. His parents’ love for him was great, but neither their love nor their words could ease his thoughts. Perhaps their words could ease another’s mind, but not his and not now.
“Faolan,” Caedmon called from behind the wagon.
The young guardian looked at Caedmon over his shoulder with a questioning glance, and the wolf motioned for him to come closer. Faolan rose from his seat and moved through the back of the wagon, hoping not to step on Ireli or stub a toe on Ehreion’s inflexible armor. The wagon was not exactly on the smoothest path; this was a rarely traveled road where the only maintenance provided was the wear of feet and wheels. Many holes and rocks were scattered along the road, making for a rough ride and sore bodies. Faolan reached the wagon’s rear and crouched down before Caedmon. The wolf stared at the leader with his unsettling eyes, and Faolan shifted uncomfortably in response to their intimidating and dissimilar appearances.
“I must speak to you about our new problem,” the ancient protector insisted.
Faolan nodded. “Go on. I am listening.”
“Not here. We must speak alone.”
The young leader failed to understand why they must speak alone, but he would allow the wolf his privacy.
“Father!” Faolan said.
Kellen slowed his horse and matched their pace as he accompanied them behind the wagon.
“Yes, son?” his father questioned.
“Please take command. I must speak to Caedmon alone. We will not be far behind, and Caedmon should be able to hear if any trouble arises.”
“Understood,” Kellen replied with a respectful nod to his son.
Faolan leaped off the wagon, and they both stopped walking, allowing the others to move farther away. Once Caedmon was comfortable with their distance, he began speaking to Faolan about the dire problem following them.
“Another individual pursues us,” Caedmon stated in a direct tone.
“Besides Mr. Cone Hat?” Faolan inquired.
“Yes, and he is much less kind.”
“How do you know this second individual trails us?”
“He made it known and removed all doubt. Also, Mr. Cone Hat”—the old protector raised an eyebrow at Faolan in recognition of the aptly named follower—“mentioned this other individual.”
“Caedmon, would you please just tell me what happened?”
The wolf hesitated, “I will tell you, but keep it to yourself. The others are unaware, and I do not wish them to fear what follows.”
Faolan perceived the great wolf guardian’s fear of this new threat. “Very well, Caedmon, I promise.”
“Good, then I shall explain in detail. The three of you had departed across the rope bridge, and after a few hours’ time, problems began occurring. This is where I shall begin.” The old wolf began to tell the story.
◆◆◆
The remaining group watched as Faolan and the two healers made their way to the rope bridge and began their tense journey across the gorge. The three of them slipped out of sight as the bridge dipped below the gorge’s edge.
The others discussed what cours
e of action they should take while they waited for the three of them to return from healing the dwarfs in Ardara. After some deliberation, they agreed on the most urgent matters and concluded their discourse as they moved into action.
“Caedmon, we are going to the local market to see if the dwarfs might have any provisions we may need.” Gavina announced. “Are you coming?”
“No, I shall stay here and wait for the king.” The ancient protector leaned on the wagon’s side, easily tilting its wooden frame.
“Understood. We will try not to take long,” the dark-haired half-elf replied.
Caedmon watched as his four remaining companions walked away toward Odemar’s market. He was looking forward to reuniting with his old friend as the great wolf guardian had not returned to see the mighty dwarven king in a very long time. Various problems and disputes across Verdunmull had kept him busy and far away from one of the rowdy dwarven taverns. Caedmon had definitely missed the thunderous atmosphere and the enjoyable dwarven humor.
He waited in eager anticipation of his old friend’s arrival, and he began to wonder if the king still looked as he had the last time they shared pints of the local brew. The old guardian’s mind remembered the good old times, when wars were scarce and peace reigned over the lands, though those times had long passed and were only fond memories now.
The exhausting travels of the past few days began to set in, and Caedmon found himself growing tired. His eyelids became heavy and lowered against his will as he slowly gave in to his body’s requests for sleep. He lowered himself to the ground, searching for the most comfortable position, and circled a single spot as his canine instincts took over. Finally, he rotated into a resting spot on the ground and released a relaxing breath as a small sand cloud was blown away from his nose. He slipped into a much-needed slumber and slept for the first time in weeks.
The sun moved across the sky, and after some time, a sound woke him from his dreams. Caedmon’s ears twitched as they caught the intriguing sound, and without opening his eyes, he tried to discern its origin so he would not have to awaken entirely. A second later, another distinct sound came from nearby, which seemed to be a mixture of rattling and rough material stretching.
The old wolf opened one eye in both curiosity and laziness as he searched for the odd sounds’ source. The lion eye scanned the area and stopped as it spotted the rope bridge trembling slightly against its formidable supports. He was unable to see much from his resting location, but his eye detected the slight vibrations in the massive ropes. The guardian lifted his head and opened his other eye, peering with greater curiosity as he thought it was odd the bridge would tremble in such a manner. He watched the bridge’s movement with both eyes as his ears could hear the pulsing tension in the stretching and creaking rope fibers.
Suddenly, the tautness in the ropes was gone, and the bridge fell from view. Caedmon was startled, and he rose to his feet as he heard the wooden planks slam against the gorge’s wall. He was confused by the bridge’s collapse and moved closer to the cliff to inspect the odd event. The boards clanked unevenly on the rock as the gorge’s wind moved the bridge’s slack ropes, and the guardian grew concerned for Faolan and the healers. He stood at the cliff edge and peered down at the freely swinging bridge. His heart sank at the thought of what might have occurred, but he tried not to worry as he hoped the three had made it across the bridge in time.
Caedmon moved away from the cliff and decided it would be best for them to reunite with Faolan and the healers across the Scar in Ardara or at least to find out their fates. He remained calm and knew there was nothing he could do presently to quell his concerns as it would take time to travel the dwarven kingdom’s northern road around the Scar.
The guardian turned and ran toward Odemar’s market to find the others so they could begin traveling toward Ardara. As he passed Leith’s wagon, an alarming screech pierced the air, and a large shadow washed over him. Caedmon peered up into the sky as he maintained his running pace, and his unique eyes spotted a scaled beast soaring high overhead. The intricate details of the dragon could not escape him, and he knew it was a Greenback from its appearance.
The dragon’s speed was far greater than Caedmon’s, and the distance between them grew as the dragon dove toward Odemar. The blue wolf watched the dragon disappear behind a tree line and could only listen as distant screams rose beyond the trees. As he neared the tree line, the dragon raced back over the canopy toward him. The highest branches and leaves exploded into the air like confetti and trailed behind the dragon in its wake.
Caedmon did not hesitate and brought forth his Ikalreev magic. A green light flashed in his eyes and illuminated them brightly as the magic swelled within, and both of his muscular arms rippled as they rose with commanding speed. Thick vines burst out of the ground and extended high into the air in unison with his commanding movements. The vines reached wildly for their target, but only one succeeded in gaining a hold on the beast.
The old wolf closed his hands into fists and yanked downward in the air. The vine listened to his magical command and mirrored his motion. The solitary vine tightened around the dragon’s right hind leg and pulled the dragon down toward the ground.
The beast was ripped from flight and slammed hard into the ground. The dragon’s impact sent a cloud of sand into the air, obscuring the enraged lizard’s form. Heavy footsteps sounded within the hazy veil, and the dragon roared as its head emerged out of the sand cloud, and a pair of fully expanded wings followed. The massive beast crouched low to the ground and prepared to charge as its tail whipped from left to right in eager anticipation. Its green scales rippled over its massive muscles as it maneuvered its head sideways in order to see Caedmon’s motionless form. The beast shifted its head twice more, as a bird does, in an attempt to gauge its distance from its prey. Its lips pulled back, and its sharp teeth were revealed as it growled at the wolf.
Caedmon prepared to dodge the coming charge; his right hand made a slight motion. A sharp eye would have seen the dirt next to him moving subtly as he readied his defense, although a sudden silence penetrated the air and flowed over the landscape. The stillness was eerie in nature, and it caused the wolf’s skin to crawl.
The dragon had ceased its vocalizations, and its heavy footsteps no longer shook the ground. The beast’s gold iris shifted its gaze as it became aware of a newfound presence. The guardian witnessed a pause in the dragon’s breath as the scaled fortress froze in uncertainty and watched the new being with hesitation.
Dragon eyes are able to see the true essence of a being—the soul and its nature—though it was a fact few knew. Their ability to see the true nature of a soul allowed them to know whether a being was benevolent, malevolent, humble, shy, or so on. Until recently, the dragons of Verdunmull were regarded as fearless, yet only they were able to see holy righteousness housed within an immortal soul. And it is holy righteousness they fear for they know all too well the immeasurable power that accompanies its presence. But the dragon saw no holy righteousness in the black soul of the cloaked being standing by the trees; instead, the beast only saw a pure malevolence within him, which it knew should be equally feared.
The Greenback’s hesitation with regard to the newcomer unnerved Caedmon as he knew the capabilities of its eyes. The wolf watched as the beast turned to face the unknown individual and lowered its head to the ground.
The man wore a black cloak and carried a semi-gnarled staff. Caedmon was unable to tell if the man was friend or foe yet. The stranger began walking in an undulating fashion toward them, and the dragon hissed and snarled at the newcomer with a vivid distaste. A deep breath entered the dragon’s lungs, and then it let loose a defensive roar. The dragon rose and ran away from the sinister figure, taking flight and leaving Caedmon alone with the dark stranger in silence.
The man stopped a short distance from the wolf and heaved air as he had trouble holding up his own body. Caedmon could not see the rage on the man’s face through the thin veil of his hair or
the stranger’s blood-coated lips resulting from another intense heart pain. After a moment of recovery, the stranger began to speak as if his booming voice rose from the Heavens and echoed from the sky.
“What is your name?” Zauvek’s voice bellowed.
The booming words caught Caedmon off guard, and he stepped back in bewilderment as he stared at the enraged old man.
Zauvek grew impatient and lifted his face, revealing one eye as his thin white veil parted slightly. At that moment, Caedmon felt an overwhelming fear he could not withhold, and his heart sank within his chest as his hair stood on end. The old guardian stepped backward and let out a gasp as he recognized the eye’s coloration from the descriptions in the Ikalreev Prophecies.
“You are . . .” Caedmon whispered under his breath.
Zauvek’s visible eye was dissimilar to anything Caedmon had ever seen before. The iris changed color with a vibrant glow, and the sclera was blacker than the darkest night. Infuriated, Zauvek lifted his staff in one swift motion and slammed it back into the ground without hesitation. A spiderweb pattern of cracks shot outward from the staff’s collision with the ground.
“I command your name.” Zauvek’s voice roared from the Heavens.
The guardian took another step backward in fear. “My name is Caedmon Conn.”
The angel tilted his head slightly with an eerily piercing gaze as the sky bellowed, “Do you, Caedmon Conn, hold sway over the plants of this world?”
“Why do you wish to know?” The wolf took another slow step backward without purpose or aim as he felt overpowering fear.
Verdunmull Page 27
