The Lords of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 3)

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  “I couldn't agree more, my lady.”

  “I'm glad you feel that way, Sir Darian,” she replied, giving him a coy smile. “What have you learned so far, other than my lady?”

  “I'm supposed to offer any ladies whatever little services I can,” he said. “You may have noticed yesterday that I gave you my arm while we were walking, and helped you get up when we were all sitting in the grass.”

  “I did notice,” she nodded. “I didn't mention it because I was afraid it was just another example of your accidental gallantry.”

  “My what?”

  “Nothing. Go on.”

  “Well, a lot of it is common sense stuff.”

  “Really?!” she asked with a tone of mock surprise. “I find it a little difficult to believe that you would find any of it a matter of common sense.”

  “What do you mean?” the knight asked, a sincere look on confusion on his face.

  “Nothing,” she giggled. “Can you give me some examples?”

  “Don't ride if a lady has to walk,” he replied. “Even if she can't ride, you're not supposed to let her walk while you don't have to.”

  “So far, so good.”

  “If you're ever in a situation where there's not enough food or water, you're supposed to give her yours and go without.”

  “I see what you mean,” she nodded. “For you, things like that are common sense.”

  “Thank you,” he smiled. “If anyone insults a lady, I should rush to her defense.”

  “Which was something you would have done before you'd ever heard the word gallantry, or before you had even learned to walk for that matter,” she pointed out. “So let's move on to subjects you seem to find more mysterious.”

  “Like what?”

  “What does it say about courting?”

  “I don't know,” he replied, shaking his head. “I haven't gotten that far yet.”

  “Well, keep reading,” she said with a sigh. “It's an area where common sense has failed you more than once.”

  “What do you mean?” the Telian asked again.

  “Darian,” Kilren interrupted, moving his own beast closer to those of the maiden and the young knight, “I've been thinking about it, and we may want to avoid Tagril.”

  “Why?” the knight replied. “I thought it would be nice to spend the night at an inn, even if we had to ride a couple of extra hours to reach it.”

  “Normally, I'd agree,” the lieutenant replied, “but you may remember that me and the local authorities have had... disagreements... in the past.”

  “That may be true,” Darian said. “But, as you point out, that was in the past. Since then, you've been the constant companion of a Telian Knight and have helped rescue one of their own citizens from a group of kidnappers.”

  “It's the rescue I'm actually the most worried about,” Kilren replied. “We attacked a group of Lord Kilmer's soldiers at Neres Bridge about a year ago.”

  “They attacked us,” the knight corrected.

  “I doubt that's a distinction Lord Kilmer cares much about,” the lieutenant pointed out. “He wanted Gwendolyn and we kept him from getting her. If we just ride into town, someone may recognize us.”

  “Even if they do, lad,” Ian began, joining the conversation from a short distance behind, “they'll not do anything about it. Lord Kilmer was in the wrong. Tealor and Sarena had been sent to rescue Gwendolyn. His men tried to take her from her current, and authorized, guardians. According to the laws of Mikral, Lord Kilmer's men got what they deserved. So, there's nothing he can do about it legally.”

  “I'm not worried about the legal ramifications,” Kilren said, looking over his shoulder at the dwarf. “I'm more concerned with what Lord Kilmer may decide to do in spite of the law.”

  “I do take your point,” Ian nodded. “Although, I don't think he'd risk attacking us.”

  “He'd be a fool if he did,” Garik asserted. “An army of his men couldn't defeat us.”

  “I don't know about army, lad,” the bard chuckled.

  “And, there is no us in that context, Garik,” Darian corrected. “If we are attacked, which is extremely unlikely, I want you to stay near Gwendolyn or Erana and keep out of the fighting.”

  “Why?” the boy asked, clenching his fist as he spoke. “I'm a warrior.”

  “No, you're not.”

  “I'm going to be,” Garik replied. “Besides, this sword you gave me is magic isn't it?”

  “It is,” Darian nodded. “However, a magic short-sword doesn't make you a warrior.”

  “No,” the boy agreed, “being a warrior makes you a warrior. And I'm quickly becoming one.”

  “Be that as it may,” the knight replied, turning his eyes to his brother, “I order you to stay out of the fighting. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir,” Garik replied somewhat sulkily. “What if someone attacks one of the girls?”

  “Then, you can fight to defend them,” Darian replied, shaking his head. “Which I can safely allow, because we're not going to be attacked.”

  “We might be,” the boy replied.

  “You'd better hope we're not,” Kilren chuckled. “Battles tend to separate the men from the boys.”

  “Which are you?” Garik asked, turning his gaze to the lieutenant.

  “If we end up in a fight,” Kilren winked, “you'll find out.”

  “That crossbow of yours is magical too, isn't it?” the boy asked, shifting the subject.

  “It is.”

  “And Erana's scimitar,” Garik continued, “and that gold headband Gwendolyn's wearing, and the ring she got from Sarena?”

  “Indeed, lad,” Ian nodded.

  “What about your rapier?” he asked.

  “It is,” the bard replied. “Lord Andor acquired it for me, along with a great deal of other equipment for his men, from my own people.”

  “Do we have any other magical equipment?”

  “My sword,” Darian answered.

  “Yes, obviously,” the boy replied, rolling his eyes. “I meant things I haven't known about most of my life.”

  “I've got a few potions with me,” Ian said.

  “What difference does it make?” Kilren asked. “We've got what we've got.”

  “I was just curious,” Garik replied. “Magic is one of the greatest weapons in Areon. Darian can use it, Gwendolyn can use it, Ian can use it, and Erana will probably be able to use it one day.”

  “I hope so,” the elvish maiden replied with a smile.

  “That just leaves you and me,” the boy continued, turning his gaze to the lieutenant. “We can't cast spells.”

  “Obviously,” Kilren agreed.

  “That means that the only way for us to bring magic to the battlefield is by using magical items.”

  “I suppose that's true.”

  “So, I wanted to know for sure just what we had at our disposal,” Garik explained. “And I think we should get more.”

  “Yeah?” the lieutenant chuckled. “Well, you may find it hard to believe, but getting magical equipment isn't as simple as go get more.”

  “I know,” the boy nodded. “Which is why it requires thought. That's why I'm thinking about it. Thinking can be extremely useful. You might want to try it sometime. It can really help eat up the empty hours.”

  “Funny,” Kilren replied. “You’ll need more than magic weapons to make you a warrior. You’ll also need the skill to use them.”

  “You're probably right,” Garik nodded slowly. “Maybe you could teach me a bit about that later.”

  “Maybe I could,” the lieutenant agreed, “but that's not much to the point at the moment. For now, we need to focus on not getting into a battle in the first place. That's why I think we should avoid Tagril. We can camp out tonight, head through the very outskirts of the village early tomorrow morning, and probably be able to reach Kalmock by tomorrow evening. At that point, we'll be well beyond Lord Kilmer's lands and can spend the night at the inn there.”


  All of the companions could see the sense of such a simple precaution. And, as all of them generally enjoyed sleeping under the stars anyway, it was a plan they could put into action without any inconvenience to themselves or delay to their journey. As a result, the little band was sitting around a merrily cracking little fire shortly after the sun set.

  “Spar with me for a few minutes,” Garik said, gazing down at his brother, his sword and shield in his hands.

  “No,” Darian replied, shaking his head. “I'm tired.”

  “I didn't get to spar yesterday,” the boy pointed out.

  “And you're not going to get to today,” the knight replied.

  “I can't take too many days off,” Garik asserted. “I'll get rusty.”

  “Then, you should have stayed at the fortress.”

  “Just spar with him for a few minutes,” Gwendolyn said.

  “I don't feel like it,” Darian replied. “We rode all day and I'm tired.”

  “He's your brother.”

  “I know.”

  “I thought you were supposed to do what ladies asked you to.”

  “Normally, I am,” the Telian nodded. “But Garik is clever.”

  “Crazy clever,” the boy asserted.

  “He'll be able to get you to get me to do whatever he wants,” Darian explained. “So, if I do what you want me to do now, I'll have to spend the rest of the trip doing whatever he wants me to do.”

  “Would that be so bad?” Garik asked with a smile.

  “The answer is no.”

  “So, it wouldn't be that bad?”

  “I mean: no, I'm not sparing.”

  “Come on,” Kilren said with a sigh, climbing to his feet before stretching slowly. “I'll spar with you for a few minutes.”

  “You?” Garik chuckled. “Aren't you more of an archer than a swordsman?”

  “I'm better with a bow,” Kilren said, pulling his sword from its sheath, “but I'm sure I'm good enough with the blade to give you a workout.”

  “If you say so,” the boy replied, stepping over to a clear area within the light of the small fire.

  “Don't worry,” the lieutenant said with a smile, “I'll take it easy on you.”

  For several seconds, the pair stood silently at the ready in the flicking firelight.

  “Are we going to spar or not?” Kilren asked.

  “Oh,” Garik replied. “I thought you were going to attack me when you were ready.”

  “I'm ready now. You just attack me when you are.”

  Instantly, the boy sprang forward; knocking Kilren's sword to the side with his shield and extending his own blade to his opponent’s throat.

  “Do you yield?”

  “I wasn't ready,” Kilren pointed out.

  “You just said you were.”

  “I meant: I was ready for us to start,” the lieutenant explained. “I didn't expect you to go straight for my throat.”

  “Daegon says that the best way to end a battle is quickly.”

  “He's right,” Kilren admitted. “But, let's try again.”

  “Gladly!” Garik replied, pulling back his blade and resuming his on-guard position.

  “Ready?” the lieutenant asked.

  “As ever.”

  This time, Kilren sprang to the attack; lashing out at the boy from one side then the other, being very careful, however, not to hurt him. After several seconds, the boy stepped forward; striking the lieutenant's blade near its tip with his shield while, at the same instant, hitting it near the hilt with his sword from the other side. The result was that Kilren's weapon was wrenched from his hand.

  “Daegon says a warrior has to treat his blade like he does his life,” Garik said, his sword lifted to his opponent's chest. “You can't just let go of it, but holding on to it too tightly will get you killed.”

  “So it would seem,” Kilren nodded slowly. “I think you're right about the magic weapons, Garik.”

  “I know I am,” the boy replied.

  “Darian, can I borrow your sword.”

  “I suppose so,” the knight replied, climbing to his feet and retrieving his blade. “But you two be careful.”

  “What difference does it make?” Garik asked. “Even if I accidentally hurt him, you can just heal him.”

  “You hurt me?” Kilren asked with a smile.

  “Judging from the immediate past,” the boy said, nodding his head, “yes.”

  “That was when you had a magic sword and I didn't,” the lieutenant replied, resuming his position. “Now, we're more equally matched.”

  Once again, the two combatants fell together. This time Kilren wasn't as cautious as he had been previously. It was obvious that Garik knew what he was doing, and the lieutenant didn't intend to be beaten by a boy right in front of his fiancée. The two circled one another, each doing their best to find a hole in his opponent's defenses. The boy fell back as the lieutenant used his strength and reach to full advantage. This changed suddenly, however, as Garik lunged forward, forcing Kilren to take a step back. This caused him to nearly trip on a root and, although his incredible dexterity kept him from falling, it threw him off balance. The boy instantly closed the distance between them and had his blade drawn back toward Kilren's chest in a flash.

  “Daegon says that a warrior who doesn't pay attention to every obstacle on the battlefield won't be on the battlefield for long.”

  “Daegon says a lot,” Kilren replied.

  “He does,” Garik replied. “Who's been teaching you to fight?”

  “Darian and Tealor.”

  “Wow!” the boy said, shaking his head. “You must be a really slow learner.”

  “It's not that,” Darian replied, doing his best not to laugh. “It's just that you learn very quickly. And not everyone's been using a blade since they were six.”

  “I guess that's true,” Garik admitted, sheathing his sword as he spoke. “I mean; I'm probably not as good at... mopping floors, I guess... as Kilren might be.”

  “You probably aren't,” Kilren agreed. “Of course, there's one thing I know I can do better than you. And it's something that absolutely separates the men from the boys.”

  “What's that?” Garik asked, gazing at his former opponent with a look of doubt.

  “Grow a beard!” the lieutenant snapped. “You just give it a few days and you're going to feel the full force of my wrath.”

  “I can hardly wait,” the boy laughed.

  “You say that now,” Kilren said, moving over to take a seat between the knight and his bride-to-be. “You'll sing a different tune when you're staring into the face of my full-bearded glory.”

  “I'm sure I will,” Garik replied before stepping over to a nearby tree to lay down his arms.

  “Seriously, though,” the lieutenant whispered to the knight, “your brother is remarkably skilled.”

  “I know,” the Telian nodded. “Didn't you ever watch him spar with Daegon?”

  “I did,” Kilren nodded, “but Daegon beat him like a kid.”

  “Well, of course Daegon did,” Darian replied, shaking his head.

  Kilren's good nature allowed him to quickly swallow the injury his pride had received by being beaten by a child. Of course, it had the aid of the fair Erana's assurance that he had done very well, and that his area of expertise was really ranged weapons. This, coupled with the fact that Garik was hardly your average thirteen-year-old boy when it came to handling a sword, kept him from dreaming about his defeat more than two or three times during the night.

  The following morning, the party rose before the sun, passed silently through the outskirts of Tagril, and pointed their mounts toward the village of Kalmock. The day's journey was uneventful, but filled with enjoyable conversation. Although Garik occasionally teased Kilren about the events of the preceding evening, the lieutenant would only point at his sparsely sprouting stubble and smile in reply. Just before nightfall, the band reached their destination, stabled their horses with a nearby farrier, and got ro
oms at the inn.

  After another night of uninterrupted repose, the band set out once again. They decided to spend the evening in the wilderness on the outskirts of Mikral City and head into town first thing the following morning. It was both Ian and Kilren's hope that several hours would be all the time it took to collect the information they wanted. Then, depending on what they discovered, they could spend a few days in town or head back to the fortress immediately.

  As the party drew nearer their destination, the elvish maiden seemed to become more and more agitated.

  “I don't know,” she said, shaking her head. “What if they don't like me?”

  “What are you talking about?” Kilren chuckled. “They love you.”

  “They've never even met me!”

  “You and my mother write each other every week.”

  “It's not the same thing!”

  “It's exactly the same thing!”

  “What about Rragor?” Erana asked with the slightest hint of accusation.

  “What about him?” Kilren asked.

  “How are your human parents going to feel about their grandchildren being allowed to play with a wolf?”

  “Grandchildren?”

  “Yes, Kilren!” the elvish maiden snapped. “Grandchildren! When we have children, they'll be your parents' grandchildren! How are they going to feel about them being raised around a wolf?! Humans are afraid of wolves!”

  “We're not all afraid of wolves,” he chuckled. “I mean...”

  “I know you're not all afraid of wolves!” she interrupted, a tone of agitation in her voice. “But your parents might be. We're already having enough problems with my family. What are we going to do if they won't give us their blessing?”

  “They will,” he assured her, “and I'd marry you even if they didn't.”

  “You would?” she asked somewhat incredulously.

  “Absolutely,” he nodded. “Doing things without our parents' blessing is an old human custom.”

  “Aye, that's true,” Ian chuckled, “but, I wouldn't say it was one of their best ones.”

  “Well,” the lieutenant said with a knowing smile, “I can think of others I like better.”

  “Honestly, you have nothing to worry about, my dear,” the bard continued, turning his gaze to Erana. “They already know all about you, and they already like you a great deal. This is just your fist face to face meeting. Soon, it will all be over and you'll be thinking of them like your own parents.”