by Garry Spoor
“My name is Galan Tasara, and this is Darfin Ailred,” he said in a soft, melodious voice. “We are from Enyegroth, of the clan of Ishfanas, from across the sea.”
The two looked almost identical from where Kile was sitting, although she wasn’t seeing too well at the moment. The only noticeable difference was the color of their hair. Galan’s was dark, almost black while his companion’s was silver. When Galan returned to his seat, Darfin, gave him a sour look.
Lord Elran got up next. Clearing his throat, he raised his mug.
“I am Lord Elran Girard of the Province of Azintar, City of Azintar,” he said and downed the last of his wine before returning to his seat.
The next man who stood was the older, grey-haired, leather-faced gentleman, who sat directly across from Kile.
“I am Sergeant Johnathan Jasa Commander of Durra Squad,” he announced.
No sooner did he sit down, then the soldier sitting on his left popped up. “Private Walter Eafer of Durra Squad!”
The last man also felt the need to shout his name. “Private Bernard Awald of Durra Squad!”
“There, now we know who we all are,” Lord Elran said, standing once more. “So, now it is time to discuss why we are all here. Since His Majesty could not attend this gathering, it has fallen on me to fill you in,”
He looked into his empty mug and sighed before setting it aside. This man relished the spotlight and was reluctant to release it.
“Each of you has been carefully selected for an important expedition, one that may well see an end to this war and may even see the return of the Alva back to our shores.” He ended this statement with a nod to Galan and Darfin, although only Galan acknowledged his lordship. Darfin was too busy looking annoyed or bored or probably somewhere in between.
“I believe our esteemed mystic, Master Elmac, can now share his findings.”
“Thank you, Lord Elran.” Elmac stood. “As his lordship has already stated, we hope this expedition will see an end to the war with the valrik, as well as the restoration of the lands west of Aru, otherwise known as the wastelands, the flatlands, purgatory, or the great desert. I realize these two goals don’t seem to coincide with each other, and it is possible only one, or neither, may be achieved. Still, it has been brought to our attention, by the arrival of our honored guests, the Alva of Enyegroth, a forgotten relic of their past may have been rediscovered. If this relic is as powerful as they suggest—”
Darfin jumped to his feet. “Are you suggesting we are lying, vir?”
“I’ve said no such thing, sir,” Elmac replied. “I am only stating the facts. Even your kind cannot verify the validity of your claim.”
“We have been searching for this relic for centuries, in the hopes of reclaiming our lost home. Do you honestly think we would waste our time on myths and fables?”
“Personally, sir, I think you would grasp at any stories that claim to be a panacea for your ills.”
“This is ridiculous!” the Alva exclaimed. “We come here with the means of ending your war and bringing peace to your people, and you treat us like children chasing dragon tails.”
Galan grabbed Darfin’s arm. “That is enough,” he said. “Think, Darfin. Would any of our people be so trusting if a vir came claiming to solve our problems?”
“We can reclaim this gift on our own.”
“We need their help. How many have we sent? How many have returned?”
Darfin’s reply was not in the king’s tongue. The language he spoke was known only to Galan, and possibly to Elmac, who looked at the two with a newfound suspicion. When the silver-haired Alva returned to his seat, Galan apologized.
“This quest has weighed heavily on my people.” He looked around the room. “You are right, mystic. It is only a story, one that claims to ease our burdens, but it is the last one we have and our last hope. You must understand, we are a proud people, maybe too proud. We would not willingly ask help of the vir unless we had no other choice. The Heart of Nilak is there because it has to be there. If it isn’t, there is no hope for my people.”
“Believe me, Master Galan, I do understand,” Elmac said. “But it may be you and yours who are placing too much emphasis on an old trinket and an even older story. Even if this Heart of Nilak of yours is there, how is it supposed to perform the miracles you claim it can? I’m afraid I don’t have as much faith in this relic as you do.”
“I assure you, Mystic Elmac, if this artifact is truly the Heart of Nilak, you will see what wonders it can do.”
“If I may,” Heaney said, standing, “I think this is a moot subject. We can sit here and argue the merits of this artifact, whether it can or can’t do what the legends say it can, but it won’t get us any closer to finding it. Am I right in believing that we now have a destination?”
“Quite right, Master Heaney. I have studied the maps and the journals provided by the Alva and have compared them to the mariner’s sea maps. I have also reviewed the firsthand accounts of the sailors who have seen the maelstrom. I believe now, we may have an idea of where this island is located.”
“Then I don’t see the need for any further discussion,” Heaney said. “It would appear the mission is simple. We head to this island and retrieve the Heart. Nothing more needs to be said at the moment.”
“I agree.” Jasa stood. “All this talk is like running in circles. It may give us something to do, but it doesn’t get us any closer to getting it done.”
“If this is nothing more than a simple retrieval job, let us get it over with,” Boraro said, leaning back in his chair. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we get paid.”
“If that is all you see in this, Master Hunter, I fear you truly do not understand the perils of this quest,” Galan said.
“Please, just because a bunch of elves—”
Darfin was on his feet again. “Mind your words, Hunter, if you don’t want them to be your last.”
“Is that so… elf?”
Lord Elran slammed his mug so hard on the table, it shattered, but he did manage to get everyone’s attention. “I think we’ve talked this over enough.” He discarded the mug’s broken handle. “Perhaps we should retire for the evening.”
“Yes, that is probably for the best,” Jerald agreed. “Captain Dotol has sent word—he is prepared to sail as soon as you arrive in Salthaven.”
“And there have been no further attacks along the south coast?” Heaney asked.
Jerald shook his head. “By all reports, it’s been quiet down that way for the last month. If the valrik are planning another assault, it’s not along the south coast. Command will give you updates when you arrive.”
“I think we should all turn in if we want an early start in the morning,” Jasa said. “It’s the first step that leads to the journey’s end.”
~~~***~~~
As Kile climbed the stairs back to the east wing, she had no more knowledge of what was going on and why she was involved than she had when she first received the summons. The best she could come up with, assuming she was thinking straight, was that they were sailing to some remote, uncharted island to retrieve an artifact that may or may not be there. It all seemed so straightforward in a crooked sort of way.
Daniel mumbled something to her when they reached the gilded sitting room. It might have been a good night or it could have been something else; she wasn’t sure and simply waved to him over her shoulder before retiring to her room. The only thing on her mind, apart from lost islands and Alva relics, was her bed, which was waiting for her in her personal artificial forest. Unfortunately, it was occupied.
“Roland?”
The king was lying on her bed, reading the book on royal lineage she had set aside. He wasn’t dressed in his fineries this time. Instead he looked like the poor librarian she met back in Windfoil. His hair was brushed back and he needed a shave. She had almost forgotten how handsome he was.
He closed the book and set it aside.
“They always seem to leave out my
great aunt’s side of the family.” He tapped the cover of the book. “You think it has anything to do with the fact she married a tailor?”
“What are you doing here?” Kile asked as she quickly closed the door.
“I wanted to see you before you left,” he said. Somehow his answer might not have been so awkward if he wasn’t lying on her bed.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she told him.
“No, you’re probably right. Imagine what the people would say, but then again, if I leave now…” He pointed to the door. She could still hear the rest of her dining companions carrying on their discussion in the sitting room. It didn’t sound as if they were too eager to retire for the night.
“Can you at least get out of my bed?”
Roland shrugged and jumped off the bed.
“You are a curiosity,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve visited you while you were in bed.”
“That was different. I was recovering.”
“Not always.”
“That time doesn’t count.”
“No, I didn’t think it would.” He grinned as he casually examined one of the broad-leafed plants. “What do you think of your room?”
“You went to a lot of trouble.”
“It was worth it if it made you happy.”
“It might have.”
Roland laughed. “You’re getting to know the game too well.”
“I didn’t think you liked playing games,” she said.
“I don’t… well… it depends on who my opponent is.”
“Oh, so now we’re in opposition.”
“It feels that way with you, sometimes.” He folded his arms and leaned against the desk. “It is good to see you again, Kile.”
“So, is that why you summoned me here, to see me again?”
“As much as I would like to say it was, considering it’s the only way I can get to see you, it wasn’t exactly my decision.”
“Then whose decision was it?”
“Command’s,” he said with a shrug. “They seemed to think you would be perfect for this expedition, what with your knowledge of nature, as well as your experience with the saladogs.”
“What do they have to do with this?”
“Command believes these… saladogs,” he said with a flourish of his hand. “These… creatures are somehow tied up with Alva and their relic.”
“That’s a stretch. Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe not, if you think about it. I mean, these creatures, which no one has ever seen before, happen to show up at the same time the Alva make their triumphant return.”
Kile snorted. “Hardly triumphant.”
“Still, I don’t believe in coincidences,” the King said as he brushed back one of the tree branches that was blocking the picture of the two boys. He laughed. “I thought I told them to take this down.”
“So, you do know them?” Kile said as she came to stand beside him.
“Of course I do. That’s me.” He pointed to the younger boy. “I even remember when my mother had this one commissioned. It was right after my tenth birthday.”
“You don’t look very happy.”
“Have you ever had to sit for a painting? It’s dreadfully boring. If I remember correctly, it took nearly seven days. Each day for two hours. Same time, same place, same clothes. No, it was not fun, but our mother insisted. She wanted a picture of her sons.”
“Then the other boy… that’s…”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so,” Roland said. “That’s my brother, Jonland, before he went crazy.”
Somehow the quaint portrait of the two boys sitting in the garden wasn’t so quaint after all. She was now looking at a younger version of Ravenshadow, the man who was currently trying to bring the world to its climactic conclusion, one way or another. The funny thing was, as she looked at the two boys sitting there on the small bench, she would have guessed Roland was the more mischievous one. There was something in the young king’s eyes that said he was probably terror on two feet.
Roland was watching her carefully. “I can have it removed if you want.”
“No, that’s okay. It doesn’t bother me,” she lied.
“You wouldn’t think it, would you?” he asked as he stepped closer to the portrait. “That he could become what he became.”
“It might not have been completely his fault.”
Roland turned and looked at her. A sad smile touched his lips. “Defending him now, are we?”
“All I’m saying is, sometimes we don’t know what we’re doing until after it’s done.” She turned away from him.
“Still, we have to take responsibilities for those things we’ve done, regardless of why we did them,” he countered.
“I suppose,” she said, but was it that simple? There were still a few things about Jonland that didn’t make sense, or maybe they did if she looked at it from a different point of view. If there was one thing she’d learned during her stay at the Tower, nothing is what it seems. For instance, Jonland’s ability to control ravens was something she hadn’t considered at first. The fact that he could turn them against her, use them as his spies, was it all that much different from what she could do? Was it possible Jonland was Orceen? Could he also be plagued by the shadows of the Maligar? Did that young boy in the picture unwillingly tap into the darkness, into the madness? Did he also hear the laughter? If it was true, and he was just another victim, was she far behind?
These new thoughts were unsettling and sent a shiver down her spine. Roland placed his arm around her.
It didn’t help.
“You should probably be going,” she said as she nimbly ducked under his arm.
“Is that truly what you want?” he asked.
The question caught her off guard. When did she ever know what she wanted? Many of the things she thought she wanted didn’t turn out all that well. She always wanted to be a Hunter; now look at the mess she got herself into. Maybe it wasn’t so much what she wanted but what she needed.
“I’m sorry, Roland, I’m still not… there,” she answered.
“I suppose if that’s your answer,” he said with a playful grin as he reached for the door. “I simply have to accept it… for now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Just be careful, will you?”
“Of course. I’ll—”
But before she could finish the sentence, he did it to her again. He kissed her—leaned right in and kissed her without warning.
She suddenly sensed the feral side of her rise up and knew it would be a huge mistake. It was a struggle to force it back down, one she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to win. Fortunately, the decision wasn’t hers to make. Roland was gone. Kile backed away from the door until she found herself sitting on the bed. That was too close, she thought. The feral side of her was a little more dangerous than she had originally believed.
Using the techniques Morgan taught her, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and fell into her Edge. It didn’t take long before she found her center and balanced herself out. Once she silenced the feral side of her psyche, she stretched her consciousness out further. It wasn’t long before she found Vesper sleeping in an empty fruit bowl on the desk. She even took it as far as to find Grim in the stables but knew better than to touch him. She had no doubt he would come storming into the room to find out what was wrong. The odd thing was, she could not feel any other animals in the vicinity. Sure, there were horses in the stables, and there was an owl, but he was on the other side of the outer wall. It was unsettling and a bit too quiet, but it wasn’t as if it was something that needed her attention.
As she reeled her consciousness in, she did stumble on two things. One was a feeling; the other, a smell. The feeling was not one she wanted. The smell was not one she expected. She quickly snapped back to reality when someone gently knocked on the door. At first she wasn’t sure she heard anything and held her breath until she heard it again.
Opening the door, she found the gilde
d sitting room was dark. The others had gone to bed and only Clara remained.
“Get in here,” she said, grabbing the young woman’s arm and pulling her into the room. “Where have you been?” she demanded.
“I don’t know…”
“No, we are not playing these games, sir,” Kile said, cutting the young woman off before she could protest.
Clara laughed. “I didn’t think I could fool you for long,” she said as she looked around the overgrown bedroom.
“You weren’t Clara this afternoon, were you?” Kile asked. “Not this morning and not in the dining hall, and please tell me you were not her when Daniel was hitting on her.”
“No, no I wasn’t,” she said. “I had to take this form when Roland left. He was in here for quite some time.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“I’m not saying anything, only making an observation.”
“So, what the hell is going on, sir? What’s happening to the Guild? Why am I here?”
Clara sighed and brushed back her hair, and as she did, her features changed from those of a slight young maiden to that of a sharp-faced, ageless man. The change was so gradual, Kile wasn’t even sure she saw it. Where Clara once stood, was now standing the only Alva Kile had ever known, not that she had known he was an Alva when she first met him.
“It is good to see you again, sir.”
“I wish the situation was better,” Luke said as he sat down on the bed. “I don’t know what’s going on, Kile, but I don’t like it. Something doesn’t feel right.”
“You’re telling me,” she said. “What happened with the Hunters? Is it true? Are you no longer the Guild Master?”
“I’m afraid not, but I shouldn’t be surprised. It was only a matter of time before Parker took control. I underestimated him, you see. I thought he would try to challenge me head-on, I never thought he would resort to blackmail and coercion to remove my supporters from the council. It didn’t help with the war lasting as long as it has. Maybe I should have retired Barshed years ago.”
“So, that’s it. You’re giving up.”
