by A. Giannetti
“A quest,” the men roared. “There must be a quest to find the maiden.”
Elerian flushed in embarrassment and frowned at Ascilius to show his annoyance, but the Dwarf was unfazed by his look.
“Beware the revenge of the Dwarves,” he mouthed silently at Elerian, and Elerian could not help but laugh and shake his head at the way the crafty Dwarf had harassed him in front of the Tarsi warriors.
When the laughter subsided, the Tarsi cheered when Ascilius described how Dacien had wounded the dark King beneath the fortress of Calenus. At that point, Ascilius declared himself to dry to talk and begged Dacien to tell the rest of the story. Dacien then told the tale of the water horse. He described how Elerian had rescued Ascilius from its lightless, watery home in the underground lake. Like Ascilius, he did not spare himself in the interests of telling a good story. The men roared with laughter again when he described how, thinking the undine was about to emerge again, he and Ascilius had raced away from the sound of the great stone which he was certain Elerian had thrown into the underground lake behind their backs. By the time Dacien had described their journey to the Arvina and the events which followed, the fire had burned down to embers. As Dacien ended his story, the Tarsi cheered and applauded, and his father clapped him warmly on the back.
Turning to Ascilius, Orianus said in amazement, “I have never heard such a tale in all the days of my life. When we return to the war camp, the scribes shall set it on parchment, and the bards shall put it to music so that it may be preserved and retold down through the years.”
Turning to Elerian, he asked, “Will you permit me to see this orb that Ascilius described?”
Ascilius almost choked on his beer at the King’s request.
“Do not look into this thing,” he said urgently to Orianus. “The vision I saw in its depths still haunts my dreams at night.”
“Dacien said the orb showed you the Goblin army,” said Orianus in a puzzled voice. “Surely there is no harm in looking into it.”
“It is a capricious thing not completely under my power,” warned Elerian. “It may show nothing at all or it may show something totally unexpected. Once I saw the Dark King in his red-lit hall. It is not something I will soon forget.”
Elerian’s words only made Orianus more determined to look into the orb.
“Do not be concerned for me, Elerian,” he said firmly. “I shall not recoil in fear before any vision it might show me.”
“There are other emotions than fear,” muttered Ascilius to himself as Elerian, reluctant to deny such a trifling thing to this king who had treated them so well, called his crystal globe to his right hand.
The Tarsi sitting around the circle started when the orb suddenly appeared in Elerian’s hand. They watched curiously and a little apprehensively as he handed it to Orianus. When the king’s hand touched it, the orb remained dark. Elerian breathed an inaudible sigh of relief.
“It will show him nothing,” he thought to himself.
Then, through the king’s cupped hands, he saw the darkness in the globe vanish, as if the orb was suddenly lit from within. Elerian could not see what appeared in the orb, but a frown, quickly suppressed, spread across the King’s face.
“It is my daughter, Anthea,” said Orianus. His men left their chairs, crowding around him to look at the face of the king’s daughter.
“This looks to be the war camp, not Niveaus,” ventured one of the men.
“It would not be the first time that she has disobeyed my orders,” said Orianus resignedly. “She must have left the city, but at least she will hear the news of your escape from the Goblins that much sooner,” he said, turning to Dacien. “Think how happy she will be when she sees you,” he said to his son.
A moment later, the orb went dark again.
“This is indeed a wondrous thing,” said Orianus as he handed the sphere back to Elerian. “I see none of the peril in it that Ascilius warned me against.”
Elerian hastily made the orb vanish, relieved that it had shown Orianus something only mildly upsetting. A pensive mood had come over Ascilius, however. He distrusted the orb and thought the king might still regret looking into it.
Orianus turned to the white haired warrior with the silver bosses on his armor. “Order the men and the wagons to begin the journey home, Decius. It is well past the time when we should have been on our way.”
Orianus stood and, after a courteous goodnight to Elerian and Ascilius, walked away with Dacien at his side.
The gathering broke up quickly after Orianus walked away. The trestle tables were cleared away and everything packed into the supply wagons. The fire was doused and the Tarsi sought out their mounts while the wagon drivers uncovered the lanterns fastened to the front and back of each wagon, exposing the mage lights beneath, which cast yellow pools of light all around each wagon.
Elerian whistled softly, and Enias appeared at his side. He leaped onto the gray the stallion, but Ascilius spurned his offer of a ride, climbing instead onto the wide front seat of one of the supply wagons. Ignoring the driver, he stowed his ax under his seat before stretching out his legs luxuriously and leaning back comfortably.
“This is the proper way for a Dwarf to travel,” he said to Elerian as the driver urged the oxen into motion with a flip of his reins.
The wagon began to roll silently across the plain, drawn effortlessly by the oxen. Elerian rode along side Ascilius on Enias, who patiently suffered the slow pace of the cattle. By chance, Ascilius had chosen to ride the lead wagon, for a long column of other wagons fell in behind them, each one traveling in the center of a warm pool of yellow light that reflected off the white horns of the oxen. The air was full of the creak of leather harnesses and the chime of the silver bells which adorned each ox’s leather harness, ringing softly at each deliberate step taken by the cattle. Looking behind him, Elerian could see thousands of mounted men keeping pace with the wagons. They rode in loose groups, many of them talked quietly among themselves or singing softly as they rode. The steel blades of their long spears gleamed in the darkness, reflecting the light from the nets of brilliant stars that studded the dome of the heavens. A soft, warm breeze blew out of the south, filling the air with the sweet scent of spring grass. Elerian breathed deeply of the fragrant air and was glad to be alive and riding Enias under the night sky, however slowly.
THE RACE
The host traveled all night through a sea of grass, leaving behind the high peaks of the Nordaels. About three hours after sunrise, the wagons were drawn into a circle, and the oxen were set free to rest and graze under the watchful eyes of a circle of sentries. Outside the ring of wagons, the Tarsi stripped the harness off their mounts and set them free to graze next to the oxen. As Elerian watched Enias run off to join them, he was startled by a deep, coughing roar that seemed to make the very air vibrate with its power. The oxen ceased their grazing and raised their heads warily. From the horses came numerous, nervous whinnies.
“A lion, and a large one at that,” said Ascilius from behind Elerian. “Pay it no mind. It will not approach a group of armed men this large while the sun shines. Let us search out something to break our fast. I am famished.”
Elerian saw that cook fires had sprung up inside the circle of wagons. The delectable odors of cooking food filled the air and trestle tables were being loaded with victuals for the men to eat. With Elerian in tow, Ascilius joined one of the lines that had formed near the tables, unabashedly loading a plate with fried eggs, bacon, sausages, biscuits, and toast with real butter. Elerian followed suit, taking a much smaller portion of each item. There was hot tea to drink as well as cold, clear spring water. Ascilius and Elerian both took mugs of hot tea.
“It would seem that you are a mighty trencherman as well as a renowned fighter,” said the tall, gray-eyed Tarsi ahead of Ascilius, a smile on his face as he surveyed Ascilius’s well-provisioned plate.
“Dwarves excel at every endeavor they undertake,” said Ascilius cheerfully. “We are a m
ost versatile race, if I do say so myself.”
“Not every endeavor from what I have heard,” laughed the rider. “Is it true that Dwarves are terrified of riding horses?”
“Dwarves are afraid of nothing, least of all horses,” said Ascilius disdainfully. “We merely prefer carts when we travel. They are a superior form of transportation compared to your great, skittish beasts.”
“That is a shame,” said the rider with a humorous look in his eyes. “Doubtless, you will not wish to participate in the horserace to be held this evening.”
At the mention of a horserace, Ascilius suddenly became very interested in what the rider had to say. They walked off together, leaving Elerian alone. He shook his head at the peculiarities of Dwarves as he ate his breakfast alone in the shade cast by a wagon. Enias returned from the horse herd to keep him company and took such an interest in Elerian’s biscuits that he got none for himself.
“Go away you rascal,” Elerian said affectionately as he pushed the stallion’s delicate gray muzzle away from his empty plate. “You must make do with the spring grass now that you have eaten half my breakfast.”
Enias snorted in disappointment and moved off to crop the lush grass growing around the wagon. There was still no sign of Ascilius when Elerian returned his plate to one of the cook wagons. All around him, men had finished their food and were lying down on their blankets to sleep through the heat of the afternoon. Elerian did the same, spreading borrowed blankets in the same shady place where he had eaten breakfast. Although he appeared to be asleep, Elerian remained alert to all that went on around him while his mind walked the dream paths and his body rested and regained its strength. Hours later, when Ascilius returned, he felt more like his old self again when he sat up, for the weakness he had brought on himself by overusing his powers had almost vanished. He regarded Ascilius curiously when the Dwarf sat down next to him.
“Where have you been?” Elerian asked. “You have not slept at all.”
“I will sleep later in the wagon,” said Ascilius, dismissively. “I have been talking to Orianus’s men about the horse race which will be run in the last hour before we move on,” he said carelessly. “Orianus has decided to allow his men a bit of sport since he is in no great hurry to return to his war camp.”
“I thought you had no great liking for horses,” said Elerian, in surprise. “Have you changed your mind about the beasts?”
Ascilius took a careful look around to make sure that no one was standing close enough to overhear him. Aside from Enias, who was cropping grass a few feet away, the area around the wagon was deserted.
“Between you and me Elerian, I detest horses,” said the Dwarf softly and firmly.
A sudden explosive snort caused Ascilius to start. He looked over at Enias and saw the stallion regarding him with an indignant look in his amethyst eyes.
“I think that he understood me, Elerian,” said Ascilius in amazement.
“Enias is no ordinary horse, Ascilius,” said Elerian with a smile. “He cannot talk but he understands our words. You had best ask his pardon, or he might throw you the next time you climb on his back.”
Ascilius stared at Elerian in disbelief, but his companion’s gray eyes were free of any guile. Feeling like a fool, Ascilius turned to Enias and said, “I apologize, Enias. You are wonderful animal, quite unlike other horses.”
Ascilius did not sound quite sincere to Elerian, but Enias seemed to accept his apology and returned to his grazing. When Ascilius turned his face back to him again, Elerian noted at once that the Dwarf now looked decidedly worried and ill at ease. His suspicions aroused, Elerian gave Ascilius a penetrating glance with his clear gray eyes.
“What have you done to look so uncomfortable,” he demanded.
Hesitatingly, Ascilius said, “The Tarsi I had breakfast with kept on and on about the merits of his horse this morning, and well, before I quite knew what was happening, I made a wager that Enias could beat his horse in the race today.”
“Go back and tell him that you have changed your mind,” said Elerian instantly and firmly.
Ascilius groaned aloud and buried his face in his powerful hands. “Alas, I cannot. I became so carried away with defending Enias that I took bets from half of Orianus’s men. Who knows what they will do to me if Enias does not enter the race?”
Ascilius sounded genuinely distressed, but Elerian caught the sudden gleam of a dark eye between two fingers as the Dwarf gauged the effect of his words on Elerian.
“You rogue,” said Elerian, abandoning all pretense of being serious. “Stop pretending to be sorry. I know you are counting your winnings already.”
Ascilius emerged from behind his hands, looking relieved. “You will race him then?” he asked eagerly.
“I suppose I must,” said Elerian, “or the Tarsi will roast you over a slow fire. I am surprised they agreed to such a bet, however. They must all know that Enias’s limp has been cured.”
“Actually, I had to improve the odds a bit before they would bet,” said Ascilius reluctantly.
“What did you promise them?” asked Elerian laughing softly, “that you would ride him yourself.”
“Not quite,” said Ascilius with a weak smile. “I had to promise that I would ride behind you, during the race. They said that even if Enias won, it would be worth the lost wagers to see a Dwarf in a horse race. They were joking, of course. None of them expected me to agree to ride Enias.”
Elerian’s good humor vanished, and his eyes darkened to a stormy gray. It was one thing for Enias to carry double during a campaign but quite another to do it during a race. From past experience, he knew how heavy Ascilius was. Their combined weight might well founder the stallion during an extended race.
“How long is this race?” he asked the anxious Dwarf.
Ascilius swallowed hard and then said, “Two miles.”
Elerian stared at Ascilius in disbelief.
“I cannot believe you are willing to risk injuring Enias for money,” he said accusingly. “No horse can carry so much weight running flat out over such a long course.”
Ascilius suddenly looked genuinely ashamed. “You are right, of course, Elerian. I lost my head and spoke without thinking. I will call off all the bets, even if I must satisfy everyone out of my own pocket.”
Ascilius sounded genuinely sorry. As he made to rise to his feet, Enias suddenly snorted again. Elerian and the stallion shared a long look.
“He says he will do it,” said Elerian when he turned to face Ascilius once more. “He believes he can carry us both over that distance.”
Strangely enough, Enias’s willingness to run the race did not make Ascilius look any happier. Now that the first flush of excitement was wearing off, it was finally beginning to sink into his head that he had committed himself to riding in a horse race at speeds that he was sure to find terrifying.
“Enias will do his best to make sure I do not fall off, will he not?” he asked weakly. “I will apologize again if you think it necessary.”
“I would not blame him if he dropped you in the middle of the race,” Elerian said sternly. He did not feel at all sympathetic when Ascilius broke out into a sweat at the thought of falling to the ground in the midst of a horde of racing horses.
“When does the race begin?” Elerian asked.
Ascilius checked the position of the sun in the sky. “It is time now,” he said nervously. “The course has already been laid out to the north of the circle of wagons.”
“Let us be on our way then,” said Elerian.
After springing lightly onto Enias’s back, Elerian extended his right arm and pulled Ascilius up behind him. Now that the moment had come, he found that he was looking forward to the race, but Ascilius wore a grim look as if he was riding to his own execution.
“Perhaps Enias should wear a saddle this one time,” said Ascilius feebly to Elerian’s back.
“Enias does not like saddles,” replied Elerian firmly.
Ascilius sat
miserably behind Elerian as Enias joined a steady stream of men and horses riding north. The odd pair received many a curious look, and some of the men laughed outright at the sight of the gray stallion carrying Elerian and the bulky Dwarf. To their eyes, used to their own powerful mounts, Enias appeared slight and unimpressive.
The laughter and the implied ridicule angered Elerian. When he turned his stormy gray eyes on the riders, they quickly became silent, for the tale of his mage powers had already spread throughout the host, earning him a wary respect.
A great crowd of mounted men had already gathered around the starting line and thousands more were standing on both sides of the course that had been marked out with spears thrust deep into the ground. The white, triangular pennants tied to the ends of the spear shafts snapped in the breeze, and the sound of thousands of clear voices filled the air, along with the neighing of many horses. The excitement was almost palpable.
A tall spear, with a white pennant fastened to its shaft, marked each end of the starting line. Elerian guessed that upwards of a hundred horses and their riders were already gathered between the markers. He was not surprised to see Merula sitting his red stallion near the favored inside edge of the course. A mile to the north Elerian saw the spear that marked the end of the first half of the course. It was also marked with a white pennant. After circling left around the spear, the riders would ride south on the second leg of the track until they reached the finish line, which was marked with blue pennants.
Conscious of the many eyes upon him, Elerian guided Enias to the outside edge of the course, the only place where there was any room left.
“We will have the longest race of any horse,” grumbled Ascilius from behind him. “Take a position closer to the center.”
