Gareth felt his sweat drenched tunic cling to his back, warmed by the midday sun. He couldn't recall the last time he’d truly broken a sweat and now he was covered in the salty substance. He swung his pike outward, striking with the butt end, watching his students follow suit. It was a simple task. Train the new recruits and separate the pikesmen from the shieldmen. Service to the Shadgull army was demanding but he found it to his liking. And it offered a fair amount of coin as a freelancer.
“Master Pole-arm!” A young and out of breath voice called from behind him.
“At ease!” He watched the men shoulder their staves, taking rest. Stabbing the butt of his weapon into the dirt, he spun around to find a young man in his late teens standing in salute. A dark green tabard marked with a black trident across the chest burned its contrast into his eyes. Gareth glanced at the man's waist, searching for the circular badge emblazoned upon his sash. “What have you got for me, Initiate?”
“My lord, the scouts have returned. Arborlond was attacked. We have proof it was the Dreu. The reports say they’re headed north.”
Gareth took in the man's words, feeling his rage grow with each syllable. Refusing the let his emotion show in front of the man, he gave a restrained nod. “Keep me posted. I want to know the second they move south of the gate.”
The messenger offered salute a second time. “Yes, sir!”
Gareth waved off his salute, giving a half-assed return. “And have Ravion prepare an envoy to Evinwood. We need to know why the alfar allowed the Dreu to attack so close to their homes without alerting us.”
The messenger nodded and returned to his horse. Climbing up, he positioned himself in the saddle and urged the steed onward. It sprang into action, carrying him out of sight in no time.
Gareth pulled his pike from the ground and returned his attention to the men. “Fall in!”
***
The wilds of Evinwood were a sight to behold. Rumored to be the most beautiful place in all of Dalmoura. Flowers grew in abundance, animals frolicked in their instinctive lives, and the massive trees loomed over the world, offering shade and comfort to all beneath their canopy.
The band of humans pushed through the luscious forest, ignoring all penalty from the natural defenses of the land. Their green tabards cried out in protest against the sharp barbs and ridged branches, ripping free of the layered linen. The snap of a bowstring drew their attention. Weapons at the ready, they took position back to back, searching for the source. To their surprise, they were surrounded by a ring of arrows standing vertical, their heads buried in the dirt. Not only were they surrounded, they were outnumbered.
A smooth, yet commanding voice echoed through the trees, sending an unsettling chill down their spines. “Why do I have five men traipsing through my forest? I've not received so much as a message announcing your arrival.”
They searched for the unseen speaker, feeling helpless, but resolved to their training. Cowardice was not acceptable, especially on assignment. It could send the wrong message for the Order as a whole. Clenching their weapons, they waited, unsure if they should speak or not.
“I see you’re men of Marbayne. Tell me, where is your commander, for I desire to speak with him? Ravion? Kane? I find it unlikely they would send men into my realm without first contacting me.” The slender figure stepped from the trees, revealing his presence to the entrapped men. He stood several inches taller than the average human and carried a superior gracefulness. His armor appeared to be forged from the trees themselves, layered with oak leaves and reinforced with plates of bark. Upon closer inspection it was clearly made of a finely crafted leather with an expert's tooling, each detail carved to perfection. His hair was tied in a bun at shoulder length and a bow was strung across his back. Twin swords rested upon his hips and a narrow quiver of arrows hung below his kidney.
They were lost in the sight of the myrkalfar, so entranced by his majestic stature that they hadn’t seen the others step into sight, their bows drawn and aimed to kill. “Ma-- My lord!” One of the scouts gave a respectful bow, finding his tongue. “We were sent by Kane. He ordered us to investigate the silence from Tresengal. We haven't heard anything from them since before Arborlond was attacked.”
“You seem to have gotten lost. Tresengal is north of Heroes Gate. You’ve found your way into the lands of Evinwood. But where are my manners? I am Aldulrien Quetalious Denarie, King of Evinwood and lord of the myrkalfar.” He gave an exaggerated bow. “As for your assignment, I fear things are worse than your lords realize. The dreualfar have returned to the surface. They’ve amassed an army bred for war and I fear my people alone cannot hold them off. Maradar Keep has already fallen to a fraction of their number.” He looked at his men, still holding aim on the humans. Motioning to them, they lowered their bows. “But I assume you’ll want to confirm this for yourselves.” He raised his hands, giving a gentle wave.
The trees behind the scouts groaned and flexed, bending at their trunks. The vines of ivy and barbs crawled away as if they were alive, revealing a clear path through the dense forest.
“Make haste, for the path will not last long. Once you’ve reached the wall, you’ll find a crack large enough to crawl through. Tresengal lies just on the other side.”
In the blink of an eye, the king and his men were nowhere to be seen, leaving the scouts to their solitude. Sheathing their weapons, they turned down the path laid out for them.
They reached the wall in no time, more than likely some like of alfarian magic, they suspected. As promised, there was a break in the thick stones, just wide enough for a single man slip through. One by one they crawled to the other side, finding a different world. Where the forest had been warm in the midday sun, this new realm was cold and dark, as if somehow night had fallen while they were inside the thirty foot stone barrier.
***
Aldridge was beginning to slow for the evening. It’d been a hot, sticky day in the summer heat, but the cool evening air was beginning to settle in for the night.
Kane stood at the edge of town, watching the forest road, not far in the distance. His breastplate shined in the fading sun, displaying two brilliant symbols upon each of his shoulders, announcing his affiliations. The right side was engraved with a smoked trident, trimmed in emerald, while the left radiated a faint red glow of a bricked tower, seemingly applied through magic rather than alteration.
His patience was wearing thin. “They should have returned nearly four hours ago.” he fumed, concerned by their absence. He glanced up at the sun ,watching its last slither disappear behind the horizon. I can't wait any longer. Sighing heavily, he turned and made his way for the tower. Perhaps the magi will be able to scry on them and explain their late arrival. A glimmer of hope growing inside him, he passed through the large iron gates, set into the red brick walls. Continuing up the winding walkway, he stepped through the red stone archway, feeling the power of the boss wash over him.
The haze filled grounds cleared, illuminated by floating orbs of various colored light. The towering structure shot into the sky as far as he could see, disappearing into the rolling clouds above. The tower's front entrance stood open, inviting him in.
Kane stepped into the perfect sized door, watching the breezeway expand before him.
A row of Templar stood along each side, awaiting need of their services. Catching sight of their commander at the entrance, they snapped to attention, raising their pikes to form an archway.
The armored warrior paused, a moment, giving them time to perform the unnecessary ceremony. He stepped through, acknowledging each man, silently reciting their names and family status. It wasn't a common practice, but he felt it an important one. Even if he didn't put it into words, it showed the men that he cared about them and would personally see to their families well being in the event of their death. Wars could be won or lost with the loyalty a man felt for his commander, and he wasn't going to fall short.
He reached the opening at the far end of the entrance and s
tepped through, taken back by the sight, as always.
The room went on what seemed like forever, unconfined to the size of the outside structure. The main room, a greeting area for visitors, was filled with rugs of the finest quality covering the floors. Their extravagant colors sprayed out, intertwining with each other in the most fantastic ways. Large tapestries hung from the walls, displaying wondrous depictions of mighty wizards and battles long fought. Frames hung here and there, the occupants moving about and interacting with the world around them. It was quite a sight to behold. Servants and apprentices alike, rushed about, obeying the request of their masters. It was utter chaos in the most organized way imaginable.
He passed the dancing colors and turned to face a well fed woman sitting on the back side of a large oaken desk. She wore a fine blue dress with white lace. Her spectacles were crescent shaped, barely covering her eyes and her long, brown hair dangled over the large tome resting in front of her.
She glanced up at the man overlooking her. “Good evening, Master Kane. How fares the heat outside?”
“It's cooling off a bit but I fear it will return in the morning. I don't mean to be rude but I must speak with Relavin immediately. Can you tell him I'm on my way?”
The portly woman gave a half-hearted smile, “Not a problem, I'll inform him right away.”
Kane stepped into a small archway off the side of the room. There was no floor, nor ceiling, just an empty room void of all save for a strange illumination that caused the walls to glow a light blue. Both the floor and ceiling were black as a starless night.
He envisioned the mage, focusing all his will into the man's image. The blue light radiating from the wall pulsed and twisted. Within a moment it shifted to a bright orange and began to spin.
The greeting room faded from view, surrounding him in the dizzying orange. His stomach churned with the changing color, growing more and more intense. Just when he thought he was going to lose himself in the chamber, it returned to its calm blue, revealing a different room where the first had been. Taking a heavy breath to settle his stomach, he stepped into the large study.
The room was packed full of shelves, overflowing with books of all color and size. There was a large oak table in the center with a single matching chair. Racks and curtains hung in various places, leaving much of the floor open but cluttered. The far end of the room was draped by a large white curtain, dividing the study from bed chamber, magically hovering in place.
A slightly overweight human appeared through the hovering barrier, as if he were a ghost. The dangling cloth remained stationary, despite his passing. He wore a white sleeping robe and had a matching tapered hat on his head with a single puffy ball at the end. His short curly hair was golden brown and his pale-white skin contained many freckles.
A hearty yawn escaped him and he stretched, flexing his back. “What can I do for you this evening, my friend?” Relavin asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
“I'm sorry to wake you. I know you have much to do and sleep can be a rare commodity, but I have a terrible feeling that something big is about to happen.”
“Generally, when one feels such emotion, they are rarely wrong. The question is, where and when is this big event to take place.” Relavin cracked a slight smile, knowing the man hated how the magi turned the simplest of statements into the most detailed philosophies.
Kane gave a weary smile, realizing his friend was picking on him. “I sent a group to scout Tresengal. They should have returned hours ago. We've received several reports of Dreu activity, but we can’t dispatch the armies until we have solid evidence that they're headed this way. I can't get any of them to mobilize until I have something substantial. And thus far I have nothing but aftermath.”
“Kane, I’m a wizard of the tower, I do not require schooling in the customs and regulations of the union. Part of my wizardry responsibilities is to maintain and manage these relations.”
He sighed deeply, realizing his friend’s accuracy. “I'm sorry, Relavin. I’ve traveled with you how long?-- ”
“Six years.” Relavin interjected
The warrior placed his hands on one of the small tables, feeling it creak beneath his weight. “-- yes, and in those six years I learned your responsibilities very well. As you have learned mine. I ask you, in that time, how many time was my instinct wrong? I assure you something is happening and I fear this absence is directly connected to it.”
Relavin flicked his wrist, walking toward the sturdy table decorating the center of the room. “Very well, my friend. I trust you. If it’ll make you happy and allow me to get back to sleep, I'll scry on them. Alive or dead, we’ll at least discover what information they carry.”
A thick tome with a dark brown binding flew from the shelf and landed softly on the table in front of the mage.
Relavin opened the book as if the correct page was already marked. He grabbed a bowl of sparkly dust from the one of the shelves and sprinkled a small amount over the exposed pages, reading the incantation.
“Alura fico kunane wyno kades!”
The room faded black, revealing a circular light over the book. Inside showed the meeting between the scouts and the alfaren king. The scouts stepped onto a clear path and disappeared. The light followed the king and his men to a secluded grove, deep in the forest's heart.
“The dreualfar are a taint upon this land. They must be stopped!” Aldul demanded, spitting on the ground.
For an alfar, he seemed very human in trait, save for his pointed ears and his affinity for natural looking garments.
“I have a favor to ask.” the myrkalfar king continued.
“You have but to name it.” The man’s face was concealed by shadow but his voice sounded familiar.
“Do all within your power to gather the human lands. Make them aware of the threat upon us. My men will keep an eye on the dreualfar movement. When time comes, the myrkalfar will stand with you in battle.”
The two spoke as equals in the privacy of the grove like chamber.
The scene faded, returning to the scouts at the wall. One by one, they crawled through, disappearing into shadow. They couldn’t see anything, as if they were trapped in a dark room. Their fear radiated through the spell, drifting into the chamber room.
Kane caught the scent of sulfur and honey, a yellow mist disappearing into his nostrils. He watched the shadow bubble from the book, spreading into the room. “Army of Dreu. Searching for something.” The words didn't sound like those of his men. He could feel their pain, their inability to breathe. There was no way they could have said the words. It was more like their emotion, their fear, their combined thoughts sent the message. The dark presence sent a chill down his spine.
Without warning the book exploded, sending small pieces of burning paper in all directions. The magical flames hovering over their sconces brightened, illuminating the room enough to burn away the remaining shadow.
The two stood over the ruined book, watching the last bits burn to ash.
“That was strange.” Relavin stated with a perfectly calm demeanor, refusing to show the least bit of concern.
“You think?”
“It seems my spell was cut. We should have seen everything that happen to them, including their deaths, if that were the case. It shouldn't have ended like that.”
“I would have guessed your book shouldn't have exploded like that either.” Kane added.
“Well-- Yes, generally that doesn't happen.”
“Is there anything we can do?” the armored man asked, more worried about his men than before.
“Not that I'm aware of. What happen here is beyond my knowledge. I must meet with the Magnis. If anyone knows anything, it would be him. Continue your duties, I'll send for you when I‘ve something new to share.”
Kane nodded and turned toward the archway as he had once before. The blue lights swirled and the room faded.
***
Cheers of excitement echoed through the trees surrounding Dreuslayer K
eep. The courtyard was full of servants, visitors, and trainees standing around the outer ward of the keep, watching the sport before them.
Malakai sliced in with his battle rapier, spinning around to counter block with the shortsword in his other hand. His blows were solid and forceful, yet no harm was intended in the strikes.
Krenin twisted the newly forged greatsword, deflecting the slice. Rolling his wrist, the large blade danced around for a secondary attack. The ferocity of his strike knocked the sword from his friend's hand, overpowering him. The sharpened edge nearly catching Malakai in the side.
The swashbuckler jumped back, avoiding the potentially deadly blow, his offhand weapon lost to the other side of the arena. Adjusting his style, he positioned his feet and reengaged the half-orc. Holding his reinforced blade in front of him, he paused, letting his friend advance again.
Krenin adjusted, knowing the single blade would be much faster than the dual blade style. He rushed in, knocking the sword to the side with a powerful blow, continuing forward to shoulder check his opponent.
Malakai force the air from his lungs, feeling his feet leave the ground. Sucking it back in through his nose, he controlled the intake, keeping himself from taking too much and panicking with it's loss. He flexed his legs, letting them absorb the impact. Landing on his feet, he bent and sprang back toward the larger combatant.
Krenin brought the large weapon in front of him, clashing against the smaller blade. It flexed under the pressure, groaning in protest. Had it not been reinforced for the purpose of such blows, it would have snapped. He looked into Malakai's eyes, seeing the exhilaration in his expression. It made him enjoy their exercise that much more. “You gonna lose!” he stated defiantly, fueling the fire.
“Not today, I'm not.” Malakai hooked the half-orc's leg, shoving against him, using the locked weapons to balance his stance.
The Order of the Trident (Eldarlands Book 1) Page 19
