by A. Giannetti
“This place must have been created solely as a way station for those traveling between the eastern and western lands, for everything about it hints at concealment,” he thought to himself, disappointed that there was nothing interesting or magical to be found in either the dwelling or the glade.
“I think that we would do well to spend the night inside the dwelling behind us,” suggested Anthea, interrupting his thoughts as, from the north, a sudden gust of raw wind set the leaves on the trees to fluttering. “We can have a fire and warm food as well as a dry place to sleep.”
“I agree, but there is no sense in both of us going back through the rain,” replied Elerian. “I can bring the others while you wait here.”
“Go then,” replied Anthea as they turned and returned to the main room of the dwelling. “I will begin cleaning up a bit while you are gone.”
“You would be better served to rest instead, for a little dust will make no difference to our companions,” suggested Elerian, hoping to dissuade her from undertaking such a large and to his mind useless project.
“It will trouble me,” replied Anthea firmly, both her slender hands now planted on her slim hips and her eyes grown slightly darker. “Now go away and stop bothering me.”
With a mental sigh, Elerian wisely retreated from the room rather than risk a confrontation that he was certain to lose.
“I will warn the others that there is broom work ahead for all of us, for she will not accomplish much by herself before I return,” he thought glumly to himself as he exited the dwelling.
The moment Elerian vanished up the stairwell, Anthea’s demeanor changed. Blue eyes alight with eagerness and anticipation at the opportunity to use her growing mage powers, she raised her long right hand and cast a silent spell, one that she had used before to save Elerian from an atrior. With her third eye, she saw a golden orb spring from her fingertips and expand suddenly into a golden haze that filled every corner of the dwelling. A sudden gale blew briefly through every room and hall, the magical wind exiting out the rear door of the dwelling which Elerian had left open. As the air became still again Anthea smiled somewhat smugly, for every cobweb and piece of dust in the abandoned home had been carried out by the stiff breeze that she had raised. Next she hung gold, silver, and green mage lights on the walls and ceilings of all the rooms, observing with approving looks how their warm, multicolored rays were reflected by the now polished walls and floors. Finally, using firewood that had been left behind in an ornately carved wood box next to the fireplace, Anthea kindled a fire in the hearth, using flint and steel that she found on the mantel. She was both surprised and pleased to find that the wood she used for her fire gave off no smoke as its gold and green flames filled the central chamber with the sweet scent of apples.
As the warmth of the fire spread through the great room, the rest of the company arrived at the front door, all of them in a gloomy frame of mind at the thought that they would likely be required to perform any number of domestic tasks before taking any rest or even drying their clothes, for Elerian had straightaway informed them of Anthea’s plan to clean the unkempt dwelling they had discovered.
“We must somehow rid her of this unhealthy obsession for cleanliness that she has developed,” grumbled Ascilius to Elerian as they descended the stairs. “At this rate, she will soon require us to carry brooms as well as weapons so that we can dust off our enemies before we hew them with sword or ax.”
“I like not your use of the word we,” replied Elerian dryly. “I think that being her favorite, you alone should undertake the dangerous task you have suggested while the rest of us watch from a safe distance.”
Both Elerian and Ascilius lapsed into a stunned silence as they reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the great room of the dwelling, they and all their companions behind them favoring their polished, gleaming surroundings with amazed looks. Seated by the hearth in a comfortable wooden chair and looking uncommonly pleased with herself, Anthea was delighted by the dumbfounded look on Elerian’s face.
“That will teach him to take me so lightly,” she thought delightedly to herself, for Elerian could not help but realize that only by using magic could she have accomplished so much in such a short time. Eyes gleaming in anticipation of further mischief, she waited for him to ask her what spells she had used to transform the room from its former disheveled state. Before he could say a word, however, Ascilius, sensing an opportunity to harass Elerian, raced across the room to her side and immediately clasped her slender right hand between both of his great, calloused palms.
“What a magnificent transformation,” the Dwarf gushed in a warm, admiring voice. “Elerian will be much relieved now that all the cleaning is done. I, of course, was more than willing to help you when he told me of the disastrous state of this dwelling, but he did nothing but complain all the way back here, harping continually on what he calls your obsession with housekeeping.”
Stunned by Ascilius’s treachery and irritated with himself for not thinking to use the same trick first, Elerian could think of nothing to say when Anthea turned from Ascilius and gave him a frosty look, her eyes grown noticeably darker again in the interval during which Ascilius had spoken. Behind Anthea’s back, Ascilius looked smugly at Elerian as he drew his right index finger significantly across his throat. Then, after whipping out his adamant ring and placing it under his nose, he assumed a meek, subservient look on his craggy features as he began to caper about in an idiotic manner.
Elerian’s sudden desire to throttle Ascilius must have shown in his eyes, for suddenly becoming aware that the rest of the company had fixed puzzled glances on something behind her, Anthea whirled around again so abruptly that she caught Ascilius in mid leap with both arms gaily outstretched into the air above his head. Sensing an opportunity to turn the tables, Elerian whisked a bit of smoldering wood from the fire with a flick of the fingers of his right hand, placing it precisely under Ascilius’s right boot just as the Dwarf’ foot made contact with the floor. Transfixed by Anthea’s cool blue eyes, even darker now than before from impatience and exasperation, Ascilius lost his balance when his right foot rolled off the branch Elerian had placed under it. With a horrified look on his bearded face, arms wind milling furiously by his sides, he fell backwards on to the floor while Elerian, feeling as if his sides must split from laughter at the sudden change in Ascilius’s fortunes, fled from the room, pausing only long enough to pick up the empty kegs that he had earlier placed by the stairwell. When he was safely outside, despite the rain that was still falling, he laughed long and merrily, recalling over and over the horrified look on Ascilius’s face as he fell.
“Let the old scoundrel talk himself out of that one,” he thought cheerfully to himself. “He has been fairly caught in the middle of his mischief this time.”
Deciding that it might be wise to be absent for a time, Elerian set out for the nearby stream to fill the containers that he carried. When he returned to the central chamber some time later, a keg under each arm, Elerian stopped short, eyes wide with amazement, for Ascilius was sitting by the fire roasting venison with Anthea acting as his willing helper. Shaking his head in disbelief, Elerian set his kegs on a bench to one side of the room. He had already changed the water in one to beer and the water in the other into a rich, red wine. Observing, with a sidelong glance, the cool look Anthea sent his way, Elerian poured himself a mug of wine and took himself off to a corner of the room. When Anthea left the fireplace for a moment, he casually strolled over to stand by Ascilius, who looked up at him warily.
“Why isn’t she mad at you?” demanded Elerian softly.
“I told her a wasp stung me,” whispered Ascilius in a smug voice. “Everyone knows how ill-tempered they are at summer’s end.”
“And she believed you without seeing the welt?” asked Elerian quietly, his voice full of amazement.
“Of course,” replied Ascilius complacently. “When I told her that it was in a place not fit for her delicate ey
es, she said that she would rather not look at it.” Shaking his head at the injustice of the world, Elerian retreated to his corner again, consoling himself with his wine as Anthea continued to treat Ascilius like a favorite uncle while casting nothing but frosty looks in his direction.
When everyone finally sat down to eat at the heavy wooden table in the center of the room, thunder rumbled through the heights around the valley, and bright forks of lightning leaped down to strike the peaks. The cold rain falling outside became heavier, but inside the Elf home all was snug and dry, and the storm was barely audible to the members of the company. After partaking of roast venison, majum sliced and fried to a golden brown, chestnuts baked in the fire, and wild grapes, they took their chairs and set them around the fireplace, bringing their mugs of wine and beer with them. Elerian sat warily on Anthea’s left side, saying nothing for she still seemed cool towards him.
“Tell us what happened after you and Elerian left us, sister?” asked Dacien, breaking the silence. In her clear voice, the colored flames of the fire playing across her fair features, Anthea began to relate the particulars of the pursuit by the licantropes. Certain details, like the changelings’ unnatural ability to track Elerian and his use of the armband elicited quite a few comments and speculations from her companions, but being greatly wearied as well as comfortably fed and mellow from the spirits they had drunk, each member of the company soon sought out a bed when the tale was done, leaving only Elerian sitting alone in melancholy silence by the fire, for Anthea had sought her blankets with the rest after ignoring him all evening.
The next morning the rain stopped, the sun came out, and a warm breeze blew up from the south. Thinking that it might be wise to stay out of Anthea’s sight for a time, Elerian spent the next two days exploring the valley with Forian at his side. Reaching as far as the head of the valley, where the stream began as a spring gushing from a sheer cliff, they found no more hidden places, and no other way into or out of the valley because of the sheer cliffs which surrounded it. Their explorations did yield one good result, however, for on the second day they returned with another spotted buck to add to their food stores.
When they arrived at the edge of the glade by the back door of the Elf dwelling, Elerian and Forian found Anthea sitting cross-legged on the turf-covered bank of the stream that ran through the center of the small meadow. After greeting Anthea, Forian went inside with the buck, but Elerian lingered in the glade, trying to think of something to say that might warm Anthea toward him again.
“Come sit by me. I won’t bite,” said Anthea suddenly in an amused voice. Cautiously, wondering if her mood had changed, Elerian sat on her right side. In silence, they enjoyed the fading rays of the evening sun and the pleasant chuckle emitted by the clear brook as it ran between its narrow banks. Birdsong filled the air and the leaves rimming the garden rustled softly in a warm breeze more suitable to midsummer than early fall in the heights. Elerian sighed and lay back, hands behind his head.
“Would that we could end our journey here and stay the rest of our days in peace,” he mused to Anthea.
“You would be bored in a matter of days,” replied Anthea abstractly as she used a charm to guide a wisp of green grass through the air, intending to tickle Elerian’s left ear with it. With a sudden, swift move, he caught the blade in his long, sinewy right hand.
“That is highly unlikely as long as you are nearby,” he responded dryly. Turning to confront his tormentor, he became captivated by the slim maiden with the laughing blue eyes who sat near him. Dressed in soft brown leather and healed of the hurts and privations she had suffered in Tyranus, she seemed like one of the elder race stepped out of the mists of time.
“You have paid no attention to me for two days now,” complained Anthea, her voice suddenly sad and her features assuming a melancholy look.
“That is breathtakingly untrue!” protested Elerian. “You have been angry with me since our first night here.”
“Have not!” replied Anthea lightly.
“Why have you been so cold then?” demanded Elerian in an exasperated voice.
“Because it is fun to torment you,” replied Anthea, her blue eyes suddenly sparkling with mischief. “I knew all along that you and that rascal Ascilius were up to your usual nonsense.” Equal parts relived and irritated, Elerian suddenly reached for Anthea’s left hand, but she leapt up and danced lightly away, her silver laughter ringing in the air as her eyes dared him to give chase. Elerian refused to be baited, however, for her knew how quick she was now.
“You are no fun at all,” said Anthea pretending to sulk when Elerian made no move to rise. After a moment, she sat by his side, again, studiously ignoring him. Cupping her long, slender hands, she created an illusion in the air that took the shape of a fluttering, crystal butterfly with sparks of blue and red dancing inside its clear wings. Having come to magic late, she still had a child's wonder in her newfound powers that was reflected in her deep blue eyes.
The sound of heavy footsteps caused both Elerian and Anthea to look up, Anthea’s illusion vanishing as if it had never been. A look of fond welcome filled both their fair faces as Ascilius walked up behind them. He looked a new Dwarf with his leather garments properly cleaned, his long hair neatly tied back with a thong, and the end of his beard tucked into his wide leather belt.
“Go away you traitor,” warned Elerian. “You have caused me enough trouble.”
“That is a matter of opinion,” replied Ascilius complacently. “At the moment, however, I have no time for the lighter pastimes. I have been giving serious thought to our future, as should the two of you rather than idling about and indulging in childish illusions.”
Eyes sparkling with mischief, Anthea blew softly across her right palm. At the sudden gust of wind that sprang from her lips, Ascilius’s beard suddenly flew out of his belt, whipping back past his ears.
“Hold, you minx! Do not trifle with a Dwarf's beard!” shouted Ascilius in alarm as he seized his wayward strands.
“Belittle my power at your own risk then, Master Dwarf!” Anthea admonished him.
“You ought to have more control over your woman,” Ascilius said with mock severity to Elerian after he had tucked in his beard again.
“She is beyond anyone's control,” replied Elerian dryly. Looking sidelong at Anthea, he saw that she was now involved in creating an illusion of her mare Portia, studying its accuracy with a critical eye when she was done.
“She does have some skill,” said Ascilius generously as he examined the illusion.
“Only in the lesser spells,” replied Elerian, slyly watching Anthea out of the corners of his eyes. “I doubt that she will ever amount to much.” Rising suddenly in a single lithe movement, he ran behind Ascilius as Anthea abandoned her illusion, raising a stick off the ground instead with a wave of her right hand.
“Here now! Leave me out of this,” said Ascilius in an alarmed voice as Anthea attempted to whack Elerian on the shoulders with her branch. Leaping out suddenly from Ascilius’s broad back, Elerian wrapped his arms around her waist, carrying her backwards onto the soft turf. Half laughing, half serious, they began to wrestle, but neither could gain the advantage over the other, Anthea’s quickness rendering useless Elerian’s greater strength.
“Cease your play you two!” shouted Ascilius, struggling to contain his own laughter. “It is time to think about moving on. If we cannot reach the coast before the leaves are off the trees, our journey will become even more difficult and dangerous.”
“We could leave tomorrow,” replied Elerian, abruptly breaking off his fruitless struggle with Anthea. “We are all well rested now and have plenty of provisions. Let us tell the others so that we can begin our preparations for the journey tonight.”
Hand in hand, Elerian and Anthea followed Ascilius down to the great room of the Elf home where a bright fire burned on the hearth, the flames reflected by the polished walls of the room. In front of the fireplace, Cordus and Cyricus were already pre
paring dinner. Behind them, sitting together on chairs drawn close to the hearth, Dacien and Triarus carried on a quiet conversation while Forian sat a little to one side of them, fingering the small golden harp Elerian carried in his pack.
Ascilius’s announcement of their imminent departure was well received and, after dining on the tasty stew prepared by Cordus and Cyricus, everyone gathered in front of the fireplace for the last time to talk and finish their drinks.
“Time to rest,” announced Ascilius at last as the hour grew late, “for on the morrow we will leave at first light.” Most of the company took his advice and sought their beds in the rooms which opened off the main room, but Elerian and Anthea remained by the fire, sitting on the floor now as they talked quietly together.
“With a bit of luck, we will sail the ocean soon on some swift ship, bound for the south coast of Tarsius,” said Elerian contentedly to Anthea, who now sat in his lap with his arms wrapped around her slim waist.
“I have never sailed on the ocean before,” she replied, sounding eager at the prospect of a new adventure.
“Nor I,” replied Elerian. “It is likely to be quite dull, I think, being confined to a small vessel for what will likely amount to a number of weeks. I am glad that Ascilius will be with us,” he concluded with a gleam in his gray eyes.
“I forbid you to play any more tricks on him,” replied Anthea at once, her stern voice carrying a warning.
“Why I only meant that he is good company,” replied Elerian innocently, two fingers of his left hand crossed behind his back. He and Anthea fell silent then, each silently delighting in the deep love that formed an unbreakable bond between them until Anthea finally drifted off to sleep in Elerian’s arms.
Early the next morning, Ascilius, who woke first of all the company, found them sleeping together in front of the now cold hearth. His roughhewn features softened as he observed their fair features and intermingled dark locks, for Anthea had fallen asleep with her head pillowed on Elerian’s chest.
