“The Duke is doing his best to fight the Dredracians,” said Leilas, sadness creeping into her voice. “He’s a good man.”
“He thought highly of you, my lady,” replied the messenger. “I’m Jakob and this is Thorston.” He indicated the dwarf.
“You’re a crafter, aren’t you?” asked Thorston. Leilas indicated she was. “Then why don’t you lose our ropes and cast a spell on these filthy creatures and help us get out of here?”
“It isn’t quite that simple, Thorston. There’s more at stake here than you know. Also, my magic is of no use against darklings.”
“Get me near that axe and you won’t need magic,” said Thorston. “How did they get hold of the axe of Thurmmond?”
“It’s my weapon,” replied Leilas. “I received it from the council.”
“You should take better care of such a treasure,” complained Thorston. “But then, who am I to say?” His chin dropped into his beard.
“I’ll help you escape,” whispered Leilas. “But you must be patient. The timing must be perfect.”
“We’ll do as you say, my lady. After all, you’re the Chosen One,” said Jakob. Thorston’s head jerked up in surprise and his eyes studied her with more interest.
“That knowledge might be better kept among the four of us,” said Leilas, looking around to see who was listening. Assured the comment hadn’t reached the darklings’ ears, she relaxed a little. She didn’t know if Gidron Frey had told them who she was, but the fewer people who knew the less trouble she’d encounter.
Jakob turned red. “Forgive me, my lady. I do seem to put my foot in it lately. That’s how I ended up here.”
“That also is better not talked about here,” said Thorston.
Leilas had to wonder what had brought these two into the wilderness of Sylphia that was better not talked about. However, she refrained from probing the young boy’s mind. If they wanted to tell her, they would. Right now, she had enough problems of her own.
Erion came to sit next to them. “They can’t quite decide what to do with us,” he said, handing his water skin to Leilas. “The darklings who captured our friends want to get rid of all of us. The ones who captured us are telling them you must be taken to their master. They’re still discussing it. My guess is anyway we look at it, three of us are in great peril at this point.”
“I was hoping we could get over the pass before we made a run for it,” replied Leilas. “And we’re at a decided disadvantage with all our weapons in their hands. We didn’t do especially well when we had them.”
“Why don’t you cast a spell,” asked Jakob.
“Perhaps I could cause a diversion with magic that might divert their attention,” said Leilas.
“Anything would help, my lady,” said Erion. “Although I’m sure the three of us could comport ourselves well, it would be easier if they weren’t concentrating on us.”
“There are four of us,” said Jakob, reacting to the unintentional snub.
Erion looked at the young man sitting next to the elderly dwarf. “So there are,” he said, nodding his head in Jakob’s direction. “I must confess, I didn’t realize Duke Cheran trained his messengers as warriors, too.”
Jakob’s chin went up defiantly. “That doesn’t mean that I can’t hold my own in a fight. I’ve learned some watching the soldiers and Thorston has been teaching me as we travel.”
Erion inclined his head in acquiescence. Leilas placed her hand on his arm to keep him from saying more. “We’ll need everyone, if we want to have a chance of any plan succeeding. Let me think about it for a little while. It isn’t enough just to sneak away. I must retrieve my pack.”
“Why is your pack so important,” growled Thorston. “Retrieving your gear will almost certainly ensure a fight.”
“I must have my sack,” said Leilas, indicating there would be no discussion on that point. Thorston grumbled, but didn’t try to dissuade her.
“I could perhaps sneak around and steal it back, if I weren’t bound,” volunteered Jakob. “I’m pretty good at sneaking around.”
Erion looked over at the darklings. “They weren’t paying attention to their prisoners. “They’d hear you as soon as you got close and they aren’t averse to killing you.”
“But maybe if he had some help, he might get away with it,” said Leilas, thoughtfully. In a quiet voice, she began to speak a spell. The three around her waited in expectation. They heard the noise at the same moment the darklings turned to check on them to see if they were responsible. Satisfied their prisoners were secure, the darklings turned back to their own business. This routine was repeated three times before the darklings ignored the noise when it occurred. Untying Jakob, Leilas sent him off in the direction of the darklings. What little noise he did make, the darklings ignored it.
Jakob stayed behind the bushes and as hidden as their location allowed. He knew as well as the others it was almost impossible to sneak up on elves, but he was giving it a shot. Leilas hoped that the noises she’d been causing in the forest were enough to convince the darklings not to investigate any noise Jakob might make.
Moving cautiously, Jakob made his way to where the darklings were gathered. Leilas watched, ready to jump into the group of darklings at the first sign of trouble. She knew a few tricks that might work to startle them, even if it didn’t slow them for long. It might give them enough time to retrieve their weapons and fight. They’d make it a good fight, although their chances of winning were small.
Jakob had the pack halfway to the bushes when the darkling looked down to see the pack disappearing. Leilas jumped to her feet and began casting a spell as she moved forward. Erion and Thorston were close behind. The fire flew from Leilas’ hand and caught on some of the darklings’ clothes. They quickly extinguished the effects of the spell and reached for their weapons. Leilas raised her hands again and this time covered them with sticky pitch. The effects of this spell bought them the time they needed to reach their weapons. Thorston had picked up a small log on the way across the campsite and brought it down hard on the head of the darkling who had his axe in his belt. Leilas’ axe had been set against a rock near where her pack had been set. Dodging a blow thrown by one of the darklings, she dove for the axe and came up swinging. As she fought, she moved closer to her companions. She wasn’t going to allow Gidron Frey’s minions to separate her from them. They’d managed that during their last fight. This time, they fell or won together.
Erion and Thorston were in the thick of the band of darklings. Jakob was back a few feet, doing his best to protect himself from the darkling facing him. Leilas joined him and quickly dispatched their foe. He was replaced by two others. Leilas took a deep breath as she fended off a blow then concentrated on finding the rhythm of the battle. Soon, everything faded from her consciousness except the parry and thrust of battle.
When her surroundings began to swirl back into existence, the darklings lay dead at their feet. Thorston leaned against his axe. Erion was cleaning the blade of his axe with a cloth. Jakob was staring at her, an odd look on his face. Letting the head of her axe swing to the ground, Leilas walked to where Erion was standing. “I was hoping we would be able to escape without killing.”
“They gave us no choice,” said Erion, sliding his sword into its sheath.
Leilas bowed her head. It still hadn’t felt right to kill these elves who’d been related to Erion’s people in the past.
“They surely didn’t give us a choice,” said Thorston, beginning to clean his axe, after catching his breath. “But the two of you surely showed them the art of battle. I haven’t seen such weapon work since my youth and I venture to say young Jakob has never seen the like.”
Leilas and Erion looked at the young messenger, still looking at them in amazement. “He held his own,” replied Leilas, cleansing her blades of the dark blood. “You’ve taught him well,” she told Thorston.
“He’s coming along,” mumbled Thorston, uncomfortable with the praise. Strapping her blad
e to her belt, Leilas retrieved her sack and rummaged through it until she found the pieces of the staff. Sighing in relief, she slipped them from the sack and taking a piece of cloth, wrapped them securely around her waist. “Next time they can have the sack,” she said to Erion. “I should’ve been more careful.”
“What are we going to do with this lot?” asked Thorston, pointing to the darklings.
“Send them off properly,” said Leilas.
“They wouldn’t do the same for you,” said Thorston. “Any chance we can have something to eat first? We haven’t eaten in days.”
Gathering the darklings’ goods together, they found some jerked venison and dark bread. Leilas gave the bread to Erion to ascertain if it were safe to eat before she split it up among them. She passed on the dark beer, though the others seemed to have no ill effects from it.
“What business brings you from Stillmont, Thorston?” Erion asked, as they ate. “It’s not often we see any from your clan abroad in Sylphia.”
Thorston glared at Erion distrustfully, but Leilas was beginning to think that was just his nature and had little to do with what he was really feeling or thinking. “It’s evil business, my elf friend, evil business indeed, but more than that I’m not free to say.”
“How did you come to be involved in this Jakob?” asked Leilas, munching on a piece of meat.
“I was following Mandrak. It’s because of him and Gidron Frey that we’re here.”
Leilas’ hands clenched and she grimaced in distaste. “You name two of the most evil men in Preterlandis in one breath. If they’re involved, then it must be evil business indeed.”
“We were trying to find out what Mandrak was planning,” said Jakob. “The messengers would like to see him dead. He’s killed many of us, just for his amusement.”
Jakob’s face turned grim and the able, young man Duke Cheran had entrusted with this task appeared from behind the boyish features. “Including my brother and my best friend. But he’s safely locked away, and for now that will have to satisfy me. I’m compelled, because of him, to accompany Thorston, though I’d have been compelled even if Thorston wasn’t here with me. If I had acted sooner, I might have been able to stop Gidron Frey.”
“It’s Gidron Frey you’re after?” Leilas looked up in surprise. “He’s very dangerous now that he has the Book of Rengailai. The two of you aren’t going to be able to face him and bring him back to Stillmont, if that’s what you intend.”
“He has something that belongs to the dwarves of Stillmont,” replied Thorston, after considering her words. “More than that I can’t say about what we seek. We weren’t instructed to bring him back, just what he took.”
“I understand you’re bound by honor,” said Leilas. “But I beseech you to discontinue your journey, at least for now. There will be a more opportune time.”
Jakob and Thorston looked at each other. “We thank you for your concern and for the warning. But we must go on.”
Erion’s expression grew grim, but he remained silent. Leilas wanted to argue with the two men, but knew it would be futile. She wondered what was so important that even knowing they would most likely fail they would go on. This time, she didn’t stop herself. Instead, she sent her thoughts out to Jakob and probed his mind. Letting her thoughts slip past the fear and sorrow she felt inside him, she found what she was seeking. She was thoughtful as she brought her mind back to the present. The Amulet of Ley was worth protecting and if it was in Frey’s possession, Preterlandis was in even more danger than she’d imagined. Gidron wouldn’t have stolen it if he didn’t believe he could use it; if he didn’t believe he could overcome the defense mechanisms that protected it from being used for evil.
Even as she deemed the goal worthy, she knew they’d fail. It was for the future king to retrieve the Amulet of Ley, not for the keeper and a young man whose only crime had been to wish a very evil man dead.
She’d discovered something else, more interesting to her, as she’d probed Jakob’s thoughts. He knew the woman she’d seen in her dreams, the woman who stood next to her at the Chasm of Ceryk. The woman she seemed to be protecting. “I must honor your decision, even though I believe it’s the wrong decision. You’ll not succeed. It’s not your destiny to retrieve the Amulet of Ley. It’s for the future king to recover the amulet that will declare him ruler of all Preterlandis.
“How do you know it’s the amulet we seek?” blustered Thorston, turning red.
“I’m a crafter, my friend. I have my ways of knowing.” Leilas didn’t elaborate or further try to dissuade them. Instead, she turned to Jakob. “There’s a girl you know, dark hair, fair skin, who is she?”
Jakob looked at her in surprise. “I know lots of girls with dark hair and fair skin.”
“She seemed to be special to you,” said Leilas.
“You mean my sister, Vanya. Why are you interested in her?” he asked suspiciously.
“I need to meet her,” said Leilas.
“That’s not likely to happen, unless you go back to the Drakmoth Mountains. She lives there with our father and he won’t let her leave. He keeps her there as if she were a prisoner.”
Leilas frowned at this information, trying to fit it into her dream with little success. How did someone who was a virtual prisoner in the Drakmoth Mountains meet her at the Chasm of Ceryk?
“I see,” said Leilas, dropping the subject, but storing the information to think about later. She stood and began moving the bodies of the darklings, readying them for the ritual of death. Thorston sighed, as he rose to help. Erion and Jakob began gathering wood.
The fire burned through the night and Leilas sang the song of death. The others slowly tired and fell asleep. When Leilas finished, she checked to make sure the pieces of the staff were still attached with the strips of cloth she’d taken from the darklings. Satisfied they were safe, she found a place next to Erion and fell into a dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 32
Despite her warning, Jakob and Thorston were intent on heading for Crogmanland and the last known location of Gidron Frey. Leilas and Erion bid them farewell on the pass road and headed toward Jovan’s End as Jakob and Thorston headed down the mountain. Leilas wondered if they would meet again, as she plodded up the mountain next to Erion. He’d been strangely quiet since the battle the night before and Leilas was beginning to worry that the deaths of the darklings had affected him more strongly than she’d imagined.
She was mulling over the best way to broach the subject when Erion broke the silence. “It’s not because we killed the darklings that I’m so thoughtful,” he began as if reading her mind. “It’s what you said about Gidron Frey. If you can’t stop him, how can you even begin to face Rengailai? What are we doing out here chasing down pieces of stone, if they won’t help you stop those who are destroying Preterlandis?”
“Don’t lose hope, Erion. Because I can’t face Gidron now, doesn’t mean I can’t face him when the time is right. The four crafters who were with Jovan in the beginning will face Rengailai, not me. So, you don’t have to worry on that account. Still,” she added with worry in her voice,” it’s unclear to me whether I succeed or not. The end of the story hasn’t been revealed to me. Perhaps in time it will be. I have faith that Jovan has a plan and Preterlandis will be spared from the likes of Rengailai, Frey and Mandrak.”
“Then I, too, will have to believe Jovan will save Preterlandis from the evil I feel beginning to overtake it. Each day we travel, I feel less of the goodness that used to be in each tree, and stream of Sylphia. Instead, I feel the evil that comes from Frey’s twisted magic. It’s wearying me and makes me long for my home.”
“Tell me of your home, Erion. I, too, am growing weary. Tell me about the beautiful days in your forest and about your family and friends.”
“Where did I leave off?” asked Erion, brightening at the thought of telling her about Atana.
“You never talked about your family. Just about Edan and Atana.”
Erion sm
iled. “Sometimes I believe you know everything about me. I forget how little time we’ve known each other.” He fell into step with her. “At this time of year, my people will be preparing for the summer solstice. There are four festival days each year. When they aren’t busy with the festival matters, they will be busy tending the trees, making instruments, tending the streams, making bows and swords. It takes patience to do such things well and we spend a good deal of our time engaged in these activities. We share the work of the village, each taking their turn at preparing the food and entertainment. Ah, the songs that are sung at the evening gatherings.” Erion sighed at the memory. “Still, sometimes I find the pace a bit slow. So, they understand when I want to go wandering. There are no others in our forest who have lived so few seasons. My parents waited a long time before they decided to bring me into the world. It has made it difficult for me to find my life partner. There’s no one in our group who’s not pledged to another.”
“What will you do then?” asked Leilas, her thoughts going to Joshuas, unbidden.
“I’ll have to find my love elsewhere. Then we’ll have to decide where we wish to live, in my forest or in hers,” said Erion with a sad smile. “Lately, I’ve been giving some thought to finding her. I begin to long for someone to share the seasons and years with me.” He looked forward, without seeing the road. “But this is far from sharing the story of Atana.”
“My father’s a worker of metal,” he continued after a moment. Pointing to his blade he said, “He fashioned this blade for me when I made my journey into manhood. It’s called Esterwold. Perhaps someday they’ll tell stories of it.” He paused again. “He’s also known for the blade of Edan and for the circlet of Atana.
“My mother is a maker of instruments. No one makes a sweeter sounding harp or flute,” he said with pride. “Her voice is as sweet as her instruments and she’s often called to sing at the evening gatherings. She sings the blessing at the summer festival. It’s a great honor.”
First Comes The One Who Wanders Page 52
