The Quest (The Hidden Realm Book 5)

by A. Giannetti

  “You looked into that cursed orb again!” stated Ascilius angrily. “You saw something that led you to believe that you would never return from Tyranus, so you plotted to leave me behind!”

  “I did,” admitted Elerian, wondering at Ascilius’s perceptiveness. “‘It seemed pointless for you to die with me, so I tried to save your life by keeping you here. The results were opposite to what I intended, however, for Torquatus set a trap for me in Anthea’s cell. Without you and your ring, I would never have found my way back. You saved my life instead of me saving yours.”

  “We are even then,” said Ascilius, becoming smug once more. “I am no longer in your debt for saving me from the Gargol.”

  “The ledger between us is blank once more,” replied Elerian solemnly.

  “Let us talk of more important things, then, over a water bottle full of beer, for this surfeit of philosophy has begun to make my head hurt,” replied Ascilius impatiently. “Tell me what happened after you passed through the gate. Was there a great deal of fighting?”

  FORIAN

  “Ascilius was so clearly disappointed at missing out on the combat that he suspected had taken place in Tyranus that Elerian was unable to restrain a soft laugh, the clear, glad sound piercing the dark cave where they sat like a ray of bright sunshine.

  “You are hopeless Ascilius,” he replied, still laughing softly. “In truth, you missed little except for the battle with the guardian,” he added slyly. His suspicions confirmed, Ascilius at once began to press Elerian for every detail of his adventure, but his companion would have none of it.

  “First we must eat and then we will talk,” insisted Elerian.

  “In that case, we must have something to drink with our meal,” hinted Ascilius at once.

  “Prepare the food then while I satisfy my debt,” replied Elerian cheerfully. “I think that a stew would be best for Anthea and Forian in their weakened state.”

  “A fine stew we will have then,” replied Ascilius as he busied himself with pots and pans and ingredients. Leaving the Dwarf to his task, Elerian went out into the rain a second time, but only after casting a shield spell over himself, watching with his third eye as a flow of golden light spilled from the fingers of his right hand to cover his entire body.

  “The light is fading, but I will take the risk, for I have no more dry clothes,” Elerian thought to himself as he left the cave. It was still raining heavily, but the silvery drops sheeting down on him cascaded off the invisible barrier covering his body, leaving him warm and dry as he began to forage in the forest outside the cave. Despite the rain and the gloom Elerian’s night-wise eyes clearly revealed the gray and black world around him. He soon gathered several handfuls of edible, meaty mushrooms that he found growing at the base of a huge oak tree. As he carried his contribution to their evening meal back to the cave, Elerian spied the feathery leaves of majum growing thickly at the edge of a small forest glade and took the time to dig up several handfuls of their tasty, rounded roots, each one several inches across. Once peeled, they could be boiled or sliced and fried.

  After washing off the forest bounty that he carried in the stream that ran near the cave, Elerian brought all the edibles back to Ascilius who added them to his stew. Elerian then carried all of the company’s’ water bottles to the nearby brook, filling them to the brim with clear, cold water. Casting a transformation spell, he watched with his third eye as a small, golden orb flew from his right hand. When the sphere struck one of the water bottles, it expanded, briefly covering all of the containers with a cloak of golden light before fading away. After carrying all of the containers, which were now filled with a strong, dark beer, back to the cave, Elerian ended his shield spell before rousing all of his companions, excepting only Anthea and Forian. When they all assembled around the fire and delved into the contents of their water bottles, everyone’s mood immediately became more cheerful.

  “Drink and warm food,” said Dacien to Elerian. “I never thought to enjoy either ever again when you destroyed the door to Anthea’s cell. My ears are still ringing from the noise.”

  “You must expect to be blown up occasionally if you are long in Elerian’s company,” observed Ascilius sagely as he stirred his bubbling stew with a long spoon. “Calamity follows him as surely as lightning accompanies a thunderstorm.”

  “I have brought you all to this happy state we now enjoy and yet your abuse is my only reward,” objected Elerian. His voice was aggrieved but there was laughter in his eyes in his gray eyes, for all the melancholy that had afflicted him since learning of Anthea’s capture had faded away at the moment she first opened her eyes.

  “There is a mystery connected to that door,” Elerian admitted to Dacien and Ascilius. “I had no thought of destroying it until I heard a voice in my head advising me to do so. I thought at once of Anthea and Ascilius, for it addressed me as half-wit.”

  At that moment a light touch on Elerian’s right shoulder attracted his attention. Glancing up, he beheld Anthea standing next to him wrapped in his cloak and leaning lightly on him with her left hand. The reddish firelight which played across her fair face was not kind to her, for it starkly revealed how pale and thin she had grown during her captivity. Elerian noted with concern that while her eyes were the same deep blue that he remembered, the fire that had burned in them of old was still muted, as if a shadow lay over her.

  “It was not me who spoke to you, so it must have been Ascilius,” she said to Elerian. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a gleam of laughter in her dark eyes.

  “It was me,” admitted the Dwarf. “I saw you before the door in my mind, because of the ring you gave me, I think. My Dwarf commonsense instantly suggested the proper course of action for you to follow,” concluded Ascilius smugly. “Since I saved your life twice, I should get another night of beer in return,” he suggested hopefully.

  “A fair exchange,” observed Anthea with a smile.

  “You should be resting, not encouraging this old scoundrel to extort more spirits from me!” replied Elerian sternly, but in his heart he was secretly glad Anthea had already regained so much of her strength as to be able to stand on her own.

  “Laughter is a better physic for me now than repose,” replied Anthea gravely, the shadow that lay upon her also evident in her voice.

  “Sit then,” replied Elerian lightly, but inwardly he pondered over the change that had come over, wondering at its source.

  “There is more at work here than the privations she suffered,” he thought worriedly to himself as he moved aside. After sitting down on his right side, Anthea leaned her head and left shoulder heavily against his chest, for she was still weak no matter how she might pretend otherwise. Taking his flask from his belt, Elerian gave her a drink from his rapidly diminishing supply of aqua vitae, resolving to make more at the first opportunity. Anthea had barely settled herself when Forian, wrapped in Dacien's cloak, also appeared at the fireside.

  “Here now,” said Elerian frowning again. “Will no one heed my advice to rest on this night?”

  “Laughter is a potent medicine of itself,” replied Forian gravely, his sentiments echoing those of Anthea. “I have heard none for many a year and am greedy to listen to more. I would also join your merry group if you will have me.”

  “Seat yourself where you will then,” said Elerian resignedly. Forian’s dark eyes gleamed in the firelight as he settled himself across from Elerian, sitting between Triarus and Cyricus, neither of whom looked pleased to be so near to an Ancharian. All was silent at first as they ate and drank, Elerian allowing Anthea and Forian only the rich broth from the stew because of the starvation they had suffered. When they had all satisfied their appetite, Anthea began the conversation again, requesting Ascilius and Dacien to tell of all their doings since they had left Iulius, for she knew they would give a more complete account than Elerian would. All of the company listened quietly while they took turns recounting what had happened in the passageway, the valley that
lay beyond its exit, and the lands of the Trolls. Dacien ended the tale by relating what had occurred during Anthea’s rescue from Tyranus. When he fell silent, all eyes turned to Anthea, for there was great curiosity among the company regarding her captivity. Wishing to spare her questions she might not wish to answer, Elerian spoke first, directing his attention to Forian.

  “There is time now to tell your story if you will,” he said quietly to the Ancharian.

  “The events which led to my imprisonment took place in the Abercius many years ago,” replied Forian readily enough, but his voice was filled with melancholy. “At the time I was the teacher and close companion of Eliphas, only son of Liviana, who ruled our people.”

  Elerian was careful to school his features into impassivity as he pondered Forian’s first words, for he had never heard of any large group of Ancharians who lived permanently in the Abercius. His self-control was tested further when Forian continued his story.

  “One day a visitor came to us from out of the north,” continued the Ancharian. “Indrawyn was her name and well I remember the day the border guards brought her before Liviana.” Elerian started slightly at the name Indrawyn and had the sudden sense of events in unexpected motion.

  “Can this be the Indrawyn who was my mother?” he wondered to himself, astonishment coursing through him, for his parents had lived in the Panteras over a century ago. “No Ancharian ever lived so long by natural means,” he thought to himself suspiciously as he opened his magical third eye and trained it on Forian. His mage sight, however, revealed no sign of any illusion spell masking the golden shade of the Ancharian. “Either he is what he says he is or there is some deeper magic here,” thought Elerian to himself as Forian resumed his tale.

  “Ragged she was and worn and hungry,” continued Forian, his voice distant and wistful, as if his mind’s eye looked on the past, not the present. Even so, we knew at once that she was a Grey Elf, for she possessed a beauty beyond mortal kind as well as the dark hair and keen gray eyes of the elder race.”

  “I have not heard of Gray Elves before,” interrupted Elerian.

  “It is the name which my people gave to the Eirians, born of the color of their eyes,” answered Forian before continuing his tale.

  “Liviana refused Indrawyn sanctuary, for she was fearful that this beautiful, ragged stranger would bring down the wrath of Torquatus on our people. Even in our remote forests, we had heard that Torquatus had sworn to slay every Eirian in the Middle Realm. Indrawyn was turned away without aid of any kind, not so much as a crust of bread or drink of water. A small company skilled in both war and woodcraft was ordered to take her east to the borders of our land and to slay her if she returned.

  “She accepted the sentence proudly without tears or complaint. When the guards led her away, unbeknownst to them, Eliphas and I followed, for Indrawyn had captured the heart of my companion as she stood there so brave and fair before his mother. When the guards released her, we made ourselves known to her as soon as they were out of sight and a friendship that blossomed into love soon sprang up between her and Eliphas. Eventually, I helped the two of them build a home on the slopes of the Panteras, outside the eastern border of the lands claimed by my people.

  “When Eliphas eventually sent word to his mother explaining what he had done, she ordered him to abandon Indrawyn and return home, but he refused. Liviana’s anger was so great that she exiled both Eliphas and me. Eventually, he took Indrawyn as his bride and lived with her in the fair home we had built for many years. A son whom they name Elerian was finally born to them, but the happiness that followed his birth was short lived, for in his fifth year a company of Goblins found us.

  “When they forced their way past the doorway to our home, we waged a fierce battle beneath the roots of the home oak, slaying many of them. In the end, however, we were forced to retreat, for they were too many for us to resist. Calling for Eliphas and Indrawyn to flee, I remained in the doorway to the garden, holding the Goblins at bay, but they would not leave me. When Eliphas fell wounded to the death beside me, I begged Indrawyn once more to escape into the forest with Elerian. Out of the corners of my eyes, I saw her run with her son at her side to the back wall of the garden, but instead of crossing the fence, she pushed Elerian over the wall and bade him to run. I think she intended to return to my side, but in that moment, a black creature leapt towards her from the top of the hill which formed the back wall of the garden. She must have seen it, for before it seized her, I saw her raise her sword. I looked away then, for I was being pressed hard by the Goblins who were still attempting to break through the doorway. When I looked again, Indrawyn lay on the ground with the creature crouched over her, and her life’s blood running bright red from her wounds. I fell, too, then and my sight faded after I took a blow to the head. I think that in their haste to pursue Elerian, the Goblins left me for dead, for when I awoke, I was alone.

  “When I had recovered somewhat, I buried Eliphas and Indrawyn deep in the forest lest the Goblins return and despoil their bodies. Afterwards, hoping to rescue Elerian, I followed the trail of the Goblins south but slowly, for I had suffered many wounds and had lost a great deal of blood. I was also hampered by a storm which washed out all signs of their passage. The sound of hunting horns finally brought me to the northern shores of the Avius, where I saw a large company of Urucs and Mordi gathered on the southern bank of the river. Standing among them were some of the same Urucs I had fought in the home of Eliphas and Indrawyn. When they went east along the bank of the river, I swam across and followed them through the canopy. Listening unseen to their foul conversations, I heard that Elerian was dead, slain by lupins.

  “Filled with thoughts of revenge now instead of rescue, I continued to follow the Goblins east, hoping for an opportunity to at least slay their leader. Before I could accomplish my purpose, however, I was discovered near Esdras by one of their leopardi and taken prisoner. Instead of slaying me, they questioned me, for they wished to know who I was and why I was following them. When my answers did not satisfy them, they imprisoned me in Tyranus, subjecting me to endless tortures in an attempt to make me talk. I think that, after a time, they forgot me, for there were many prisoners in that place. Blinded and broken, I remained there until Elerian and Dacien rescued me.”

  “The account I have heard rings true in all aspects except the matter of his race,” thought Elerian to himself when Forian fell silent. “There is a mystery there or some deception which I will seek to penetrate when he and I are able to talk privately.”

  Forian’s sad tale put an end to the cheerful mood of the Company. After Ascilius extinguished his mage fire, most of them sought their beds again. Anthea, however, rose and took Elerian's right hand with her left. Whether from the food and rest or the aqua vitae she had taken, she seemed stronger now.

  “Let us take the night air,” she said quietly to Elerian. “It sounds as if the rain has stopped.”

  “You should sleep,” he objected. “You need to rebuild your strength.” Instead of replying, Anthea pulled him insistently toward the exit, leaving him no choice but to follow her.

  “This is not wise,” Elerian thought to himself as he briefly touched the hilts of his knives, assuring himself that one hung at his belt and the other was in his right boot. At the exit to the cave, he raised a corner of the blanket, listening and looking carefully into the gray world outside, but he did not sense danger of any kind. Holding Anthea by the hand, he stepped out of the cave entrance, letting the blanket fall across the entrance behind him.

  The sky overhead was clear now and filled with bright stars. The air, redolent of the sharp scent of fir trees, was crisp for August, a reminder that fall was not far away. When a light breeze stirred the branches of the trees overhead, silvery drops of rain pattered to the ground. Far off in the lowlands, a lonely wolf howl suddenly drifted up into the foothills. To Elerian, the damp, cold forest seemed a poor exchange for a warm cave, but Anthea seemed not to mind.

  �
��Let us go into the wood in our own forms,” she said softly to Elerian, for they both wore illusions which disguised their true nature.

  “More dangerous still,” thought Elerian disapprovingly, but he did as she asked. In their native shapes, silent as shadows, he and Anthea slipped into the dark fir wood before them. As he walked slightly behind her, Elerian marked how light her step had grown and how graceful her movements, despite her debilitated state. A faint radiance seemed to cling to her, like the faintest starlight, visible to the discerning eye now that it was no longer masked by her illusion spell. When Anthea suddenly glanced back at him at him over her right shoulder, her eyes dark as the night, Elerian was unaware that she observed the same light around his own features.

  Following the sound of running water, Anthea led the way to the banks of the small, clear stream that ran nearby, tumbling over dark, moss-slicked rocks. When she sat on a fallen limb thick as a young tree that paralleled the stream, Elerian seated himself beside her on her left side. He listened carefully, but around him the night was still except for the murmuring of the stream over the stones in its bed and the night wind sighing in the branches overhead. Through a small opening overhead, he saw a star-studded sky in the gaps between the clouds drifting across the sky.

  “What did you think of Forian’s tale?” asked Anthea quietly and curiously.

  “I could accept it more easily if he were not an Ancharian,” admitted Elerian. “According to his account, he is well over a hundred years old, an age no one of that race has ever achieved by natural means.”

  “We are of a like mind then,” replied Anthea positively. “For reasons of his own, I believe he is concealing something. Perhaps if you reveal that you are the child in his story, you may force the truth from him.”

  “In time,” replied Elerian absently. “For now, it is enough that we are together again.”

  “I am content also,” replied Anthea, but her voice lacked conviction and was subdued, diminished by the shadow Elerian had sensed in her earlier.