by A. Giannetti
Upon hearing the word Anthea, Ascilius and Elerian sprang apart as if the other had suddenly become red hot. Elerian instantly removed the spell on Ascilius’s hood before looking guiltily about. Ascilius, who had restored his vision by lifting the edge of his hood, also looked around nervously, his dark eyes darting uneasily here and there beneath his bushy brows. After a moment, he frowned at Falco, who shrugged.
“I couldn’t think of anything else to separate the two of you,” said Falco with a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “I must say that I had no idea that the mere mention of Anthea’s name would strike such fear into the hearts of two mighty warriors such as yourselves.”
“You are mistaken to think me afraid, Falco,” said Ascilius, his frown deepening at the suggestion that he had been frightened. “The mention of Anthea’s name here in this wild place merely startled me.”
“Exactly right,” seconded Elerian as he gingerly felt the ribs on his right side with his left hand to see if they were broken. “I was only startled, too,” he said solemnly to Falco.
“Fearful or startled,” said Falco with a smile, “I think that a change of drivers is now in order. What say you Ascilius?”
Ascilius did not answer immediately. Scowling at Elerian as if he was considering another attempt to exact revenge for his injuries, he gingerly examined his bruised nose with his left hand. His irritation promptly turned to alarm when he felt a decided bend to the right at the end of it.
“What have you done to my nose?” he demanded angrily of Elerian.
“No worse than what you have done to my poor ribs,” replied Elerian sharply. “Besides, it gives you a rather raffish appearance,” he said with a gleam of laughter in his dark eyes. “Perhaps you will have better luck with the ladies now.”
“Fix it and let us be on our way,” Falco implored Elerian as Ascilius’s face darkened like a thundercloud.
“I still think it is an improvement,” muttered Elerian to himself, but he warily reached out his right hand and lightly touched his fingertips to Ascilius’s nose which immediately reassumed its noble and correct proportions. Pulling vigorously on Elerian’s left arm, Falco immediately hustled him into the carriage. Grumbling to himself, Ascilius climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Are you married, Falco,” Elerian asked curiously as the carriage began to roll on again.
“Good heavens no!” said Falco with a shudder. “Dwarves marry late if they marry at all. Who would want to assume the restraints of matrimony before he had to?” Elerian groaned silently at Falco’s reply, resolving to ask no more Dwarves about their opinion of matrimony.
“Hopefully, I will find out for myself soon enough,” he thought to himself before healing his sore ribs. He rode silently with Falco until, halfway through the night, the Dwarf changed places with Ascilius. Elerian also took a place on the driver’s seat then, slipping warily past Ascilius who glowered at him while longingly clenching his powerful fists.
Elerian found that he much preferred sitting outside the carriage to being confined to its interior. A soft breeze blew in his face and the stars overhead were bright. The only sounds were the clop of the ponies’ hooves and the rumble of the carriage wheels, for the darkened countryside on both sides of the road was deserted, its residents tucked comfortably into their beds.
“Your Anthea must be a stern woman, heavy-handed as a Dwarf matron to inspire such respect from you and Ascilius,” ventured Falco.
“She is no one to trifle with,” admitted Elerian. He related how Anthea had beaten him and Ascilius with a branch after their encounter with a licantrope during their flight from Galenus.
“I see now why you and Ascilius fear her,” said Falco, tears of laughter springing from his eyes as Elerian told his story. “The two of you do not wish to suffer another beating.”
“The thrashing we suffered was inconsequential,” replied Elerian, his voice taking on a pensive tone. “Anthea attracts those around her like a lodestone draws iron, inspiring in each of them a desire to win her approval and friendship. It was fear of her disapproval not the punishment she might mete out that made Ascilius and I stop fighting.”
“He might be describing himself,” thought Falco to himself, for sitting next to Elerian, he felt as if he were basking in the warm rays of the afternoon sun. “What an odd blend of mischief and fellowship he is,” mused Falco to himself as Elerian, after swearing him to secrecy, began to relate some of his favorite pranks.
Shortly after sunrise, Falco stopped for a fresh team at another way station. This one had no proper inn so the three companions had only a few biscuits from the packs they carried in the carriage boot for their breakfast. Elerian continued to keep a wary eye on Ascilius who maintained a taciturn silence while they ate.
“He is plotting some sort of revenge,” thought Elerian to himself as he followed the two Dwarves back to the coach. His suspicion was confirmed when Ascilius suddenly turned and cast a meaningful look in his direction while drawing the first finger of his right hand across his throat. From a safe distance, Elerian thumbed his nose at the Dwarf to show his indifference to the threat. He waited until Ascilius had taken the reins again before entering the carriage, seating himself across from Falco as before. Then they were on their way again, stopping once at midday to change ponies and drivers and again in the evening for a fresh team and supper.
As dusk fell, they resumed their journey with Ascilius at the reins. Elerian sat inside the coach with Falco, certain that it was still not prudent to be in close quarters with Ascilius. Hours later, when he judged that they were only a few miles from the fortress that guarded the southern entrance to the Caldaria, the carriage suddenly slowed. Drawing aside the curtain covering the window by his right shoulder, Elerian’s night-wise eyes easily penetrated the darkness outside, revealing, in shades of gray and black, a narrow, grass-covered track which intersected the eastern border of the road. In the distance Elerian could see rugged foothills and beyond them a wall of soaring mountains that wore a coat of snow on their peaks. He did not remember seeing this road on his journey to Iulius although the carriage he had ridden in had surely passed it.
Ascilius carefully guided the ponies onto the little used track, passing between the trunks of two of the enormous ash trees that lined the main highway. The little used road took the carriage east through a countryside that became increasingly remote. Farms and meadows gave way to an ancient forest of oak, ash, and chestnut trees that closed in on both sides of the road, covering it with their branches. When the carriage reached the upper slopes of the mountains that rose up beyond the foothills, the hardwoods gave way to a thick wood of enormous pine and fir trees. Here Ascilius and Falco traded places. Feeling safe from prying eyes in this remote place, Elerian dispensed with his Dwarf illusion after he followed Falco to the driver’s seat, resuming instead the appearance of a tall, weather-beaten man with dark hair and gray eyes. Looking eagerly to the right and left at the primeval forest surrounding him, Elerian breathed deeply of the sharp, pleasant smell of resin that permeated the air
“Would that I had time to explore these groves,” he thought regretfully to himself. “Who knows what might be concealed in this ancient wood where the mighty roots of the trees reach far into the past.”
When the carriage finally stopped in a small, turf-covered glade just large enough to allow Falco to turn the coach around, Elerian wondered how much farther it was to their destination, guessing that it would be three hours yet before the sun rose. The coach door opened then and Ascilius climbed out, his hair and beard braided as if in preparation for battle and his craggy face now wearing a serious, earnest expression.
“Wait here until midday,” he said quietly to Falco. “I do not expect that we will return, but if for some reason we must come back, I would rather not walk to Iulius.”
At first Elerian kept a wary eye on Ascilius after he leapt lightly to the ground, but he relaxed his guard when he saw that the Dwarf’s mindset had changed to
match his warlike appearance. He now seemed intent only on the serious business at hand. After retrieving his treasure bags from the interior of the carriage, Elerian joined Ascilius at the rear of the carriage, both of them taking their packs and other gear from the luggage compartment.
“Luck to you both,” said Falco quietly when their preparations to leave were complete. His normally cheerful face had taken on a somber cast, a visible sign of the melancholy he felt at parting with his companions. After clasping forearms with Ascilius and then Elerian, he stood and watched them disappear into the forest with a downcast look on his face.
THE PASS
“Once more I remain behind and act the part of the dutiful companion,” thought Falco with a sigh when he was alone. “I know that there must be gatekeepers in order for the heroes to have their adventures, but I cannot help but wish that I could follow those two out into the wide world and share in their undertakings. I cannot imagine Elerian living peacefully in Tarsius for long,” he thought shrewdly to himself. Releasing the ponies from their traces, Falco hobbled them before placing feedbags full of grain on their heads. As they ate, he groomed the pair of them, putting the requirements of his beasts ahead of his own need to rest.
As Falco tended his team, Ascilius led Elerian up a narrow footpath that wound through a dark wood comprised of enormous fir trees, a tiny mage light hovering, like a firefly, above the steel cap he now wore. Its faint rays, which provided all the illumination the two companions needed as they climbed steadily higher in an easterly direction, revealed that the Dwarf’s craggy features were drawn into a vigilant expression. His dark eyes continually probed the shadows ahead and on either side of him, and he kept a ready grip on Fulmen and his shield as if he feared that something dangerous might suddenly spring out of the dark wood that surrounded him. Elerian exhibited less caution than his companion, for his thoughts were now chiefly on Anthea rather than his surroundings. He carried his shield on his left arm like Ascilius, but his sword was still sheathed and riding on his back, for his right hand was occupied with steadying the heavy saddle bags full of treasure that rode on his right shoulder. Although he carried his knapsack in addition to the weighty bags, Elerian still followed Ascilius with a light step that seemed to spurn the ground beneath his feet. A light gleamed in his clear gray eyes, signaling his eagerness to begin his journey across the plains as he and the Dwarf slipped quietly through the wood, for even the heavy footsteps of Ascilius were absorbed and muffled by the thick carpet of brown needles that covered the ground.
After several hours of steady walking, Elerian discovered that, even though they were still in the Caldaria, this wild place was not without its dangers and that there was a reason for Ascilius’s caution. A tawny, short maned cave lion, the first that Elerian had ever seen, suddenly appeared barely thirty feet away on the path ahead of them, padding silently out from behind a tree trunk at least a dozen feet across. Smaller than its cousins who roamed the plains, it was still a formidable predator, heavy as three grown men and tall enough to look Ascilius in the eye. At first sight of the two companions it started and then crouched down and snarled, its fiery green eyes full of amazement at encountering a pair of two footed creatures on this remote path, for the land all around was an uninhabited wilderness extending unbroken through the Nivalis all the way to the northern border of the Caldaria.
Elerian and Ascilius were as startled as the lion, both of them stopping in their tracks with Elerian standing a few feet behind the Dwarf. Both of them noted with concern that the surprise in the beast’s eyes vanished almost instantly, supplanted by an intense, ferocious look fueled by a ravenous hunger. Powerful muscles twitched beneath its sleek, brown furred hide, and its tufted tail lashed its powerful flanks as it prepared itself to spring.
“He must be accustomed to dining on Dwarves, Ascilius,” whispered Elerian solemnly to the Dwarf. “See how his eyes are fixed mainly on you.”
Upon hearing this alarming observation Ascilius frowned and glanced over his right shoulder at Elerian, uncertain as to whether his companion was serious or indulging in his customary demented humor. His eyes widened in consternation when he observed a sober faced Elerian slowly easing off to his right.
“He is abandoning me,” was Ascilius’s stunned thought, for Elerian seemed intent on putting distance between himself and the object of the lion’s intense interest. Frowning in disbelief at this cravenly display, Ascilius valiantly turned back to face the lion alone, his shield and hammer raised to both defend and strike, for it did seem to him now that the great feline had most of its attention fixed entirely on him as Elerian had suggested.
Behind Ascilius, Elerian stopped as soon as the Dwarf turned away. He had a clear view of the lion now, and his lips quirked into an anticipatory smile as he flicked the index finger of his right hand. With his magical eye he watched as a golden orb, perhaps an inch across, flew from his finger and struck a fallen branch thick as his calf that lay half buried in the duff beneath the lion’s belly. A sharp, deafening crack shattered the forest silence as the carefully directed spell destroyed the branch, sending shards of wood and bark flying up violently against the great cat’s white furred belly. Reacting to the sudden noise and the painful assault on its underbelly with the nervous disposition and lightening reflexes possessed by all felines, the lion shot straight up into the air. Exhibiting once more that wonderful athletic ability that he seemed to possess in tense situations, Ascilius also leaped up high at the unexpected noise, a strangled cry issuing from his bearded lips. As the startled lion, its belly stinging from the fragments of wood that had struck it, swapped ends and vanished into the wood, Elerian critically observed his airborne companion.
“He lacks the height gained by yonder feline,” he thought to himself, “but I give him points on acrobatics. See how gracefully he has whirled about at the top of his leap and how lightly he comes to earth.” Chest heaving, a furious, rather demented look fixed on his craggy face, Ascilius glared at Elerian once his feet were planted firmly on the ground again.
“Why did you not warn me what you were about?” he shouted angrily.
“There was no time,” replied Elerian innocently. A hurt look appeared on his face. “I would have thought that you would thank me for saving you instead of bellowing at me.”
“There was no need for anyone to save me,” asserted Ascilius in an irritated voice. “In another moment you would have seen Fulmen persuade that oversized feline to seek easier prey.”
“We could wait a bit if you like,” suggested Elerian helpfully. “Perhaps he will come back.” At this suggestion, Ascilius cast an involuntary, nervous look over his left shoulder. Seeing only empty forest, he turned back to Elerian and assumed a noble, self-sacrificing look.
“At any other time, I would do just that,” he replied, assuming a fierce expression and tone, “but today, being the good friend that I am, I will put aside my own wishes and acquiesce instead to your desire for a speedy journey.” Turning on his left heel, Ascilius resumed walking up the path but at a much swifter pace than before. Laughing silently, Elerian followed the Dwarf.
“I wish that I had a bit more time,” he thought regretfully to himself as he stepped lightly over the carpet of brown needles beneath his feet. “Now that I have him primed, I am certain that a growl or two combined with the subtle snapping of a few twigs would have him leaping about like a March hare.”
Proceeding with a heightened alertness, the two companions eventually reached a sheer, gray cliff that reared up abruptly from amongst the trees before them. When Ascilius walked up to the blank wall of stone and softly spoke an opening spell, Elerian waited expectantly. He was not surprised when a thin line of gleaming argentum appeared in the cliff face. Silently, the small door outlined by the silvery metal swung inward into a dark tunnel barely five feet wide and seven high. As Ascilius entered the passageway, his mage light revealed rough-hewn walls and a smooth, level floor.
Loathe to abandon the ope
n forest for the confines of another tunnel, Elerian unenthusiastically followed the Dwarf into the passageway, the door closing behind him of its own accord. As he expected, the air inside the tunnel was redolent with the cold smell of stone, but it was not stale, indicating that there were vents to the outside. When Ascilius broke into a fast trot Elerian followed silently behind his companion. He guessed that half an hour had passed when Ascilius stopped abruptly before a featureless wall of stone that marked the end of the passageway. When the Dwarf softly spoke an opening spell, a second hidden door swung silently open before him. After extinguishing his mage light, Ascilius cautiously stepped through the newly revealed exit onto a narrow ledge.
When Elerian followed his companion, a cold wind whipped his face and ruffled his cloak as soon as he cleared the doorway. Overhead, the dark, starlit sky was just beginning to lighten as the fiery rim of the sun approached the eastern horizon. A quick glance around him revealed rugged mountains to his left and right, their snowcapped peaks climbing to rarified heights. Before him, beyond the edge of the shelf of stone on which he stood, was a vast open space and beyond that gulf were more mountains, forming an unbroken wall that ran out of sight to the south. Leaning forward to look over the precipice before him, Elerian saw a sheer drop of several hundred feet that ended at the surface of a stone paved road which ran east to west through a narrow gorge.
“We are no longer in the Caldaria,” thought Elerian to himself when, turning to his right and looking to the west, he saw that the road below descended through forested foothills before joining another larger road that ran north to south. “That larger highway yonder must be the road that leads to the fortress that guards the entrance to the Caldaria.” He could not see the northern end of the highway because of the mountains that blocked his view on his right, but Elerian knew that the Goblin army was camped there, keeping the Dwarves of Iulius bottled up inside the Caldaria.
