At River's End

by Lana Axe

  Slowly brushing back her veil, Lisalla said, “Each child should be offered an education or apprenticeship in addition to a full belly.”

  Her words were soft, almost a whisper to Rykon’s ears, but he smiled upon hearing them. “Of course, Mother,” he agreed. “Na’zora will prosper, but I cannot do it alone. I need you.” He grasped both her hands in his and squeezed them, his eyes filling with tears.

  Dabbing at her nose with a handkerchief, the queen nodded. “You will be a fine king,” she said. “Your father would be proud.”

  Though there were many more tasks to accomplish this day, none could have been more important to the new king. His mother would embrace her new role, and she would have a purpose in life. She would live for the children of Na’zora—to guide them on the path to prosperity.

  Rising to look upon the motionless form of his father, he stood silently for a moment. The gathered citizens awaited his words. Finally, he spoke. “People of Na’zora,” he began. “Here lies King Aelryk, who brought peace to our land. Under his mighty hand, we have thrived, and we will not forget what he has done for us. We will remember him with love.”

  The crowd erupted in cries of “All hail King Aelryk!” and “Long live King Rykon!” Red roses were placed at the base of the king’s tomb, where he would soon be lowered to his rest. The Woodland Elves in attendance brought wreaths of green to place at the king’s feet as symbols of the forests he had restored. Rykon watched with a yearning in his heart, a desire to be as good a man as his father had been.

  Hand in hand, Lenora and River stood before King Aelryk one last time. They looked down upon the man who had been their friend, their hearts full of sadness. His death was not natural, and it had come too soon. Trouble lay ahead for both the elves and the Kingdom of Na’zora.

  As they stood respectfully before the former sovereign, a voice spoke quietly behind them. “In a million years, I wouldn’t have expected to run into you two here. Or anywhere else for that matter.”

  The elf couple turned to find an old friend, who had come to pay his last respects to the king. Mel, the Woodland Elf who had led Aelryk’s men to the Vale many years ago, stood only two steps away. His features appeared youthful, and there was no sign of the last thirty years upon his face. Atop his head was an unkempt mane of sandy hair, and he dressed himself in the animal-skin clothing that was preferred by his people. Over the years, his green eyes had become deeper, their emerald sparkle gleaming brightly.

  Lenora immediately embraced the elf, leaning down slightly to match his reduced height. “It’s good to see you,” she said.

  River extended a hand in friendship, and the two men grasped each other’s forearms. “How have you been, my friend?” River asked.

  “Things couldn’t be better,” he replied. Glancing at Aelryk, he added, “Except for this, of course. King Aelryk was a good man. He kept all his promises to my people, and he truly had our best interests at heart. Nothing of his father’s evil found its way into him. It’s a shame to lose him.”

  “Agreed,” Lenora said.

  “How long will the two of you be staying?” Mel asked.

  “There are three of us,” Lenora replied with a smile. “Our daughter Isandra is here as well.” Nodding toward the armored elf standing apart from the crowd, she said, “You remember her, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” Mel replied. “She reminds me of our own sword maidens.”

  “She has chosen the path of the warrior,” River said. “Her instinct to protect others is as strong as ever.”

  “I’m happy to say it’s been years since our warriors saw battle,” Mel said. “I suppose peace is everlasting in the Vale.”

  River looked away momentarily. “These are troubling times,” he said quietly. “King Aelryk was murdered. Master Ulda has returned seeking vengeance.”

  A chill ran down Mel’s spine. “Ulda?” he replied. “He was responsible for this?”

  River nodded.

  “Why did he wait so long?” Mel wondered aloud. Shaking his head, he said, “This is only the beginning then.”

  “I fear you’re right,” River stated. “King Rykon will surely wish to respond to Ulda’s attack.”

  “You can count on it,” Mel said.

  In an effort to lighten the mood, Lenora said, “Mel, you must visit us in the Vale. You are always welcome.”

  “I’d like that very much,” Mel replied.

  “We plan to depart today,” River said. “You’re welcome to come along.”

  Mel didn’t need to give it much thought. The Vale was home to the most beautiful forest he had ever seen. “Count me in,” he said.

  “I must speak with Rykon before we leave,” River said.

  “I’ll gather a few things and meet you at the stables shortly,” Mel said before walking away.

  “I wish to say goodbye to Lisalla,” Lenora said, touching her life mate’s hand. Making her way to the grieving queen, she embraced her once more. “Do not dwell too long in your grief,” she whispered.

  “My son has seen fit to give me a task,” Lisalla replied with a half-smile. “He is a good son.”

  Lenora’s heart felt lighter knowing that the former queen would be well looked after by her son. Though he now had the responsibility of an entire kingdom on his shoulders, he would never forget to have a care for his mother. “Be well,” Lenora said. “May we meet again soon.”

  “Farewell, friend,” Lisalla replied. “Thank you for tending my husband in his distress. It was your magic that allowed us to say goodbye. I shall always be grateful for that.”

  Lenora scanned the crowd for River, who had already found his way to Rykon. Maneuvering past the citizens who wished to farewell the fallen king, she slowly trekked to her life mate’s side.

  It was clear from Rykon’s tone that his grief had already turned to anger. “Ulda must pay for this,” he said. “My father’s murder must not go unpunished.”

  “Ulda has grown far more powerful than any of us knows,” River replied. “We must exercise caution.”

  “When I find him, I will bring an army to his doorstep. I will have him dragged before me in chains before I remove his head.” Rykon’s eyes blazed with hatred as he spoke.

  “We will work together to find him,” River promised. “The ring I gave your father now passes to you. Use it should you need to contact me.”

  “I will,” Rykon replied. “May your journey be a safe one. I appreciate your coming to aid my father. It is a pity you were unable to save him.”

  Lenora did not take his words personally. She had done her best to treat the king’s illness and give him peace in his final hours. Rykon did not blame her for her failure to cure him. He only meant to express his regrets that the illness was beyond her skill to heal. Lenora understood this and reached out to embrace the new king.

  “May the blessings of the Forest Goddess be upon the people of Na’zora,” she said.

  As they parted ways, the wind changed direction, bringing the scent of the ocean inland. The voices of the sea drifted along the wind as well, finding their way to River’s ears. They cried out in agony, their torment cutting through him like a sword. It was not the Na’zoran king’s death that brought them such grief. A far greater tragedy had unfolded, bringing immense sorrow to all who lived in the sea.

  Turning his face to the coast, River said, “There is trouble in the Vale. Ulda’s hand has reached our home.” His sapphire eyes were wide as he turned to face his life mate.

  Swallowing her fear, she said, “We must make haste.”

  Seeing her parents’ worried expressions, Isandra rushed to them. “What is wrong, Father?” she asked, her hand on the hilt of her sword.

  “We must leave at once,” he said, his face growing pale.

  Isandra knew better than to question him. Instead, she rushed along to the stables, her parents following closely behind her. “Are our horses ready?” she called to the stableman.

  “They are, my lady
,” the servant replied with a bow.

  Mel sat comfortably upon a pile of hay, waiting for the others to join him. “Finally ready to leave then?” he asked with a grin.

  Isandra stared at him only a moment before looking back at her mother, who nodded. “We are,” she replied, walking to her horse.

  Mounting their horses, the four elves sped off at top speed with Isandra leading the way. It was a long ride to the Vale, and what they would find there was uncertain.

  Chapter 9

  The frigid air of winter cut the elves’ skin as they rode westward, hoping to reach the Vale as quickly as possible. Stopping only once for the sake of the horses, they made it past the borders of Na’zora, finding themselves once again in the Wildlands.

  Mel hopped off his horse and placed a hand against the frozen ground. Muttering a low incantation, he reached deep into the magic of the earth. Years as a shaman had enhanced his powers, giving him new abilities to communicate with the forest itself. It did not obey him. Rather, it accepted him as an equal, willingly submitting to his requests. This time, he asked it to create a path free of obstacles, and to guide the elves on their long journey to the Vale.

  The ground before him lit with a pale green light, cutting a path through the tangled roots that littered the forest floor. Without causing harm to any living thing, the forest created its own road, a safe passage for the horses to traverse.

  Returning to his horse, Mel nodded to Isandra who had been watching with much interest. “That should help us move faster,” he declared.

  Isandra gave an approving smile. “That’s a handy trick. You’ll have to teach me.” Nudging her horse forward, she led the way along the path Mel had created. Looking over her shoulder, she noticed that the path disappeared as the last horse, her father’s, made its way through the clearing. The brambles and roots once again filled in the space that had been cleared, and there was no sign that anyone had passed.

  Such magic Isandra had never seen. It would indeed prove useful for the Vale’s scouts to know such a spell. They could avoid being tracked by enemies, their footsteps erased before wandering eyes could fall upon them. Unfortunately, none of the Vale’s warriors were adept sorcerers. There was a divide among her people, all of whom had innate magical abilities. Some merely placed more effort into their magical studies than others.

  Those who chose the path of the warrior spent far more time with a blade or bow, and had no time to hone their magical talents. Instead, they depended upon special runes carved into their weapons to provide magic to their attacks. Combining that with the magic that protected the Vale made it the safest place in all Nōl’Deron. At least, it had been in the past. What she would find upon returning home was worrisome, and she felt it strong in the pit of her stomach.

  River became increasingly uncomfortable in the saddle, but he remained silent. Something was terribly wrong, and he had no desire to worry his life mate. There was nothing she could do to ease his pain. The gentle silver horse he rode sensed his discomfort and attempted to step lightly to avoid jostling him. Lagging behind the others at times, it attempted to keep an easy pace while still keeping near the others.

  The riders stopped only when necessary to provide some relief to the horses, who ran on and on without complaint. Stopping for some much needed rest, River had visible difficulty dismounting his horse, stumbling and teetering as his feet touched the ground. Isandra, ever vigilant, rushed to his side to offer assistance.

  “I’m all right,” he said with a smile. “Just tired.”

  Isandra said nothing but studied his face closely. He had grown pale over these days of travel, and her concern for him was mounting. There was something he wasn’t telling her. Not wishing to pry just yet, she dropped the issue and tended to the horses.

  Lenora took a seat beside her life mate while Mel built a fire to ward off the winter’s chill. River stretched out without saying more than a few words. Falling into a dreamless sleep, he made the most of the opportunity to rest.

  Lenora kept her concerns silent, but something obviously wasn’t right about her mate’s actions. He seemed distant, more than would be expected from someone who was simply tired. She was tired herself, but River could draw energy from the water all around them. His fatigue was brought on by some malice that Lenora was beginning to sense.

  With no desire to interrupt his sleep, she allowed him to rest undisturbed. Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, she decided to wait to ask the question burning on her tongue. Did Ulda have something to do with River’s lack of energy? She was certain she already knew the answer.

  Isandra found it difficult to rest, and Mel was adept at sleeping in the saddle, so the pair sat near the fire and spoke while Lenora drifted off to sleep, her arm draped over her life mate.

  “You can sense there’s something wrong with him, can’t you?” Isandra asked.

  Mel hesitated before answering, “Yes.” Turning his attention to the glowing pyre, he searched for a new topic. The last thing he wanted was to alarm River’s daughter. Mel could sense great evil, and it was growing stronger with each step toward the Vale. Several moments of silence passed before Mel said, “This section of Wildlands was completely destroyed during the war. King Aelryk commissioned my people to restore it.”

  Isandra took in her surroundings. All was bare, and the ground crunched beneath her boots. “It’s hard to judge its regrowth in winter.”

  Mel shrugged. “You have to listen closely, but you can hear the greenwood that has sprung to life over the years.”

  Lenora stirred in her sleep, unable to make herself comfortable. Giving up on rest, she stood and made her way to sit next to her daughter. Smiling at Mel, she asked, “How fares the Silver Birch Clan?”

  “My people have flourished in the years of peace,” Mel replied. “I spent most of the last thirty years learning more about magic and unlocking the secrets of the forest. As a shaman, it is my duty to tend the Forests of Viera to make them habitable for my clan.” He paused and grinned. “It’s the most beautiful section of forest in all Nōl’Deron, and I’d wager money on that.”

  “It has been too long since you visited the Vale,” Lenora said with a slight laugh.

  “Well, it’s true Viera does not enjoy a permanent spring, but it weathers the seasons well,” Mel countered. “I stand by my words.”

  “Your people have returned to the old ways, have they not?” Isandra asked. She occasionally heard tales of the Woodland Elves, but none had visited the Vale recently, so everything she knew was only rumor.

  “We have, for the most part,” he said. “I have done my best to see that the Silver Birch Clan remembers its duty to protect the forest and every creature within it. The old gods have blessed us. I wish I could say the same for all Woodland clans. Too many have strayed from that path.”

  “That’s a shame,” Isandra said.

  “My clan restored the forests in order to live in them, others did so for gold. They were paid in Na’zoran coins, and they found it easier to trade with the humans using gold rather than furs and items of elven make. I suppose that’s their choice, but I couldn’t live that way.”

  “Thinal would be proud of you,” Lenora said, her voice sincere. “I have thought of her often over the years.” Mel had spoken of her in such detail that Lenora felt as if she had known the ill-fated elf.

  At the mention of his fallen mate, Mel felt a lump rise in his throat. It had been her dream to visit the Vale, but fate intervened to take her life before she could lay eyes on its beauty. “I think of her every day,” he said in a low whisper. “I see her face in the trees, and I hear her voice on the wind.” Looking up at Lenora with tears in his eyes, he added, “I know she sees me, and we shall meet again.”

  Lenora’s eyes filled with tears as well. Nodding, she looked at the fire and remained silent. The pain in Mel’s heart found its way to her own, and she mourned the loss of his love. No pain could be worse.

  Eventually, each tra
veler gave in to fatigue and took a short rest. River slept the longest but woke at sunrise before the others. He kissed Lenora lightly on her cheek, and she awoke and smiled up at him.

  The horses grazed nearby, enjoying the extended bit of rest. Their bellies were full, and they would have plenty of energy for running until the next stop. Still, they made no sound, waiting patiently for their riders to decide when they would depart.

  Isandra awoke and brushed herself off before rising back to her feet. First, she looked around to locate the horses, which had not gone far. Seeing her parents were awake, she decided it was time to move on. Walking over to Mel, who was fast asleep near the fire, she knelt and shook him gently. “We should get moving,” she said.

  He woke with an audible groan, rolling over onto his back and staring at her, his eyes half-closed. Muttering something inaudible, he groggily sat up and scrambled to his feet. He stumbled a bit at first, but quickly regained his footing. Whether it was morning or midday, Mel hated to be woken. Anyone disturbing his sleep risked serious bodily injury. He forgave Isandra only because he knew how imperative it was that they reach the Vale quickly. However, he had no intention of being jovial. Walking away without saying a word, he went to find his horse.

  River rode mostly with his head hung low, saying almost no words as they continued through the forest. Nearly two days passed before the travelers decided to make another stop. As River climbed down from his horse, his legs proved unsteady and nearly gave way from beneath him. Standing was difficult, and he made it only a few steps before plopping himself on the ground.

  Concerned, Lenora came to his side and placed a hand against his forehead. “You feel cold,” she said.

  Patting the back of her hand, he responded, “I’m fine.”

  Lenora grabbed his hand and looked at it. Small beads of water covered the surface of his skin, and she knew it was not sweat. His body temperature was too low. “What is this?” she asked.