Makilien sat up, pushed back the covers, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Since she felt fine, she could see no reason to continue lying down. She walked over to the wardrobe, chose a dress, and then started taking off her nightclothes. When she saw the bandages around her middle, she frowned, wondering what her wound looked like, and why it caused her no pain.
Knowing she really shouldn’t but unable to help herself, Makilien began unwrapping the bandages. She could easily bandage herself again. As the last of the bandages fell away, Makilien gasped. Where the wound from Gornath’s dagger had been, only a healed scar remained. But how could it have healed so quickly? She knew without a doubt it had been Meniah. Her heart pounded. If he could heal her like that then who and what was he? Torick told her there was no such thing as magic, so what kind of power could heal?
Makilien swallowed, overwhelmed. How? echoed over and over in her mind. She didn’t have an answer. Shaking her head, she finished dressing, but couldn’t shake the questions.
Driven by hunger, Makilien left her room in search of her friends. She expected them to be near the dining room this time of morning, but as she neared it, voices came from the throne room. Stepping inside, she saw everyone she knew, including Meniah, gathered in the center of the room with Lord Darand. Makilien approached quietly, sensing their discussion to be serious, and she did not want to interrupt.
Torick noticed her first and smiled, glad to see her up and about. “Makilien, you’re awake. And looking well, I might add.”
“Yes, I am very well,” Makilien replied, and for a moment her eyes locked with Meniah’s. The smile he gave her caused the familiar peace to fill her that she always felt in his presence.
“Makilien, I am very glad to hear this,” Darand said. “We are indebted to you. If Darian and I had been killed, Eldor would not have been prepared to face Zirtan.”
“But I did nothing, my lord. It was just luck I happened to overhear Gornath and survived to share the information.”
“On the contrary, I believe it was meant to be,” Darand said gently.
Makilien considered that for a moment. Had she been meant to go down that street and overhear Gornath? She remembered praying after she’d been stabbed, asking Elohim to help if He was really there. Had her desperate plea in the alley been heard? What were the chances of Torick finding her there just in time without some guidance?
As she was used to doing when her mind was overrun by these types of questions, Makilien pushed them away for another time. Remembering her friends and the serious conversation they were having when she walked in, she said, “I’m sorry, have I interrupted?”
“No,” Darand assured her. “I think we’ve all come to the same decision.”
“Yes,” Darian said and looked at his father. “I will leave for Althilion right away.”
“And we’ll go with you,” Torick added.
“I will have breakfast brought to the dining room immediately,” Darand told them. “You can leave as soon as you have eaten and are packed.”
The group moved toward the dining room, and Makilien hurried to Halandor’s side.
“Are you going with Prince Darian?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“What is Althilion?” Makilien remembered seeing the name on the map, but knew nothing of the place.
“It’s the country just west of Beldon. It’s an Elven country ruled by the Elven-lord Glorlad.”
“Why is Prince Darian going there?”
“Because Althilion is our ally and will join us in our fight. Darian wants to urge Lord Glorlad to send his armies as soon as he can. Though Gornath is prepared to die before providing us with any useful information, he has told us enough to know Zirtan will not hold off his attack for much longer. Darian will also visit Beldon to speak with their king, Lord Andron. He must try to get their assistance.”
“Who else is going besides you and Torick?”
“Loron is going with us. We want to travel light and fast, but also be able to protect Darian if need be.”
“May I go with you?”
“You were stabbed just yesterday,” Halandor reminded her.
“I am well enough to travel.” Makilien looked up at him earnestly. “Really.”
Halandor gave her a knowing look. “All right.”
Makilien smiled, happy to be allowed to go. She desired to see as much of Dolennar as she could.
Everyone rushed through their breakfast and, once they had finished, Halandor sent Makilien up to her room to pack. She put her clothes back into the old leather pack she’d had since leaving Andin. Onto her belt she secured the dagger from Aedan and then her sword, which she determined never to wander around without again. Finally, she strapped on the Elven bow and quiver she’d received from Lord Elnauhir. Picking up her pack, she hurried out to the courtyard, not wanting to hold anyone up.
Outside, the stablemen had all the horses waiting. Halandor, Torick, and Loron were just beginning to strap their belongings to their horses’ saddles when Makilien joined them.
“You’re sure you’re up to coming with us?” Torick asked Makilien. “We’ll be doing about two weeks’ worth of steady traveling in all.”
“Yes, I’m up to it,” Makilien answered confidently, determined she would be no hindrance to the group.
In a few minutes, Darian and Darand joined them.
“I will make sure Lord Andron knows how desperately we need his aid,” Darian assured his father.
“Good. We’ve always been able to count on Beldon in the past. We must try to repair the situation that has arisen between them and Althilion.”
Everyone mounted their horses, and Darand looked up at Darian from the ground. “Goodbye, my son. Be careful.”
“I will, Father.”
Encompassing the group, Darand said, “My prayers go with each of you.”
After last parting words, the prince turned his horse and led them out of the courtyard. They rode through the city and soon passed through the main gate. Turning west, they followed the towering mountains on their left, Minarald shrinking behind them.
* * *
Makilien heaved the saddle up onto Antiro’s back and finished saddling him, something she had become quite proficient at. When she had finished, she tipped her head back to gaze up at the white capped mountains. Turning around, her eyes saw the same sight on the other side.
For four days now they had been traveling south through a gap in the mountain range. It was not a wide gap, and quite rocky in some areas, but it was the only passable area of the Irrin Mountains. Makilien had been nervous to travel the gap at first, having heard Halandor mention robberies were not uncommon since ambush points were plentiful, but the journey had been uneventful so far, and they planned to reach the border of Althilion before nightfall.
During the journey, Makilien had learned much more information concerning Beldon, never understanding their refusal to come to Eldor’s aid. It turned out it was not so much a lack of friendship with Eldor as a lack of friendship with Althilion. King Andron’s father had once greedily attacked Althilion, wanting to claim it as part of Beldon. He’d lost to the Elves, and though they were willing to forgive Beldon and forget the incident, friendship was never restored and Beldon did not want to fight alongside Lord Glorlad’s people. Makilien thought it was ridiculous, as did her friends. They hoped, now that the crown had passed to Lord Andron, he would have more sense than his father and, once Darian had spoken to him, he would come to Eldor’s aid.
As they continued their journey, it seemed as though the mountains were never going to come to an end, but the gap suddenly widened and before Makilien knew it, the mountains were behind them. The wide open country before them looked a lot like Eldor, but not as lush and fertile.
Early that evening they reached the bordering trees of a large forest, which made up more than half of the country of Althilion. It was here Lord Glorlad and his people dwelled. They slowed the horses to a walk as
they entered the forest, and Makilien welcomed the slower pace and change in scenery.
This forest of Althilion was different from Eldinorieth. The trees were taller and wider, and the canopy of leaves above them was very thick and didn’t allow much sunlight to penetrate except in some spots where shafts of golden light hit the forest floor. It was also much quieter than Eldinorieth. There was a mysteriousness about it, but at the same time, Makilien did not feel ill-at-ease. It was a more peaceful mysteriousness than dangerous.
Urging Antiro up next to Halandor, Makilien lowered her voice, feeling almost as though she shouldn’t break the silence. “Where are we going?”
“To Silnar. It’s a city hidden deep in the forest.”
Silence overtook the travelers again. Only the muffled sound of the horses could be heard.
Little more than a mile into the forest, Makilien merely blinked and three Elves appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Everyone pulled their horses to a stop. One of the Elves stepped forward. He was a blonde-haired Elf with clothes of dark earthy colors. Makilien thought it no wonder they could easily appear and disappear, blending in with the forest. The Elf wore a serious expression, but his face was not unkind. He approached Darian at the head of the group.
“My lord, Darian, welcome to Althilion.” He bowed respectfully.
“Thank you, Gilhir.”
Gilhir gazed at the rest of the group.
“Cellomwé.”
“Yothaun,” Halandor thanked him.
Finally, Gilhir’s eyes fell upon Makilien.
“Gilhir, this is Makilien,” Halandor made the introduction. To Makilien, he said, “Gilhir is a captain of the Elves guarding Althilion’s border.”
“Welcome to Althilion, Makilien,” Gilhir said. The Elf’s attention then turned back to Darian who spoke next.
“Gilhir, we’ve come to speak urgently with Lord Glorlad. We believe Zirtan’s attack will come soon, and we must have all forces ready as soon as possible.”
A troubled expression crossed Gilhir’s face. “Lord Glorlad will be glad you have come. Things have become much more complicated since we last had contact with your father, which I’m afraid, puts us in a difficult position.”
“What has happened?” Darian questioned.
“Trouble has grown between us and Beldon,” Gilhir informed him regretfully, “but I will let Lord Glorlad give you the details. I will take you to him.” Once again, he glanced at Makilien. “However, I’m afraid we have had to become more cautious in allowing newcomers into our city.”
“Don’t worry, Gilhir,” Darian assured him. “We can all speak for Makilien. She has already proven her loyalty.”
“Very well, my lord.” The Elf turned and whistled. In a moment, a beautiful cream colored horse trotted out of the shadows. It was not saddled or bridled, but Gilhir swung onto its back and urged the horse in the direction they had been traveling. Darian and the rest of the group followed him.
They traveled more quickly now. Still being near to the mountains, the terrain was hilly and rocky in areas, but, though Makilien could not see it specifically, they seemed to be following a path, therefore riding was not difficult. The forest only grew more beautiful the farther they went. Once in a while they crossed over narrow streams where the rocks and ground were covered in soft moss. Though the forest seemed unnaturally quiet, it did not lack wildlife. Twice Makilien spotted deer that would look at them curiously for a moment before bounding off and disappearing.
Almost an hour later, Makilien finally saw Silnar, which appeared almost as suddenly as Gilhir and the other two Elves had. The Elven city was much like Elimar in that the buildings were constructed to preserve the forest, and the architecture was as graceful as the Elves themselves.
Near the center of the peaceful city, they came to a small hill where Lord Glorlad’s home was built. They dismounted and Gilhir led them up to the front doors, which stood at the top of a tall flight of steps. Inside the magnificent structure, Gilhir brought them all into a large meeting hall. He invited them to sit down and made sure they were comfortable before he walked away to find Lord Glorlad.
While they waited, Torick, who had obviously been stewing over it during their ride, spoke his mind. “What do you think Beldon has done now?”
No one had an answer.
“Mark my words, they are going to be the death of Eldor. For the life of me, I don’t understand how they cannot see if Eldor falls, there will be nothing stopping Zirtan from marching straight down here and conquering them as well. He doesn’t just want Eldor, he wants all of Dolennar under his control.”
“That is exactly what I am going to try to get Lord Andron to understand,” Darian said.
“Unfortunately, Lord Andron doesn’t seem to be open to discussion as of late,” a voice sounded from the doorway.
Makilien turned. Gilhir had returned in the company of a second Elf. Blonde haired, his features were the opposite of Lord Elnauhir’s, but his dignified manner was the same. He was dressed in deep green robes, and a silver crown shaped like vines encircled his head.
Makilien rose with her friends as the Elf approached them. Darian stepped forward and bowed. “Lord Glorlad.”
“Prince Darian, I am very pleased you have come. I am glad to speak with you in person instead of having to send a message to your father. Please, sit.”
They sat once again, and Lord Glorlad joined them.
“What brings you to Althilion, my lord?” he asked Darian first.
“We’ve captured one of Zirtan’s men in Minarald. He was sent there with the purpose of assassinating me and my father, but thanks to Makilien,” Darian gestured to her, “and Loron, that plan was foiled. We were not able to extract much information from him, but we strongly believe Zirtan will not hold off his attack for much longer. My father sent me to urge you to send your troops as soon as possible so we can fortify the city before Zirtan arrives.”
Glorlad grimaced and sighed heavily. “I don’t know if I can do that,” he said in dismay. “I fear we are facing war with Beldon.”
Makilien’s friends traded worried glances.
“What has happened?” Darian asked.
“Several of the Elves patrolling our border have been attacked by Beldonian soldiers. Most of these attacks have occurred more than two leagues inside Althilion’s boundaries. I’ve had a handful of Elves wounded and two have been killed.”
Makilien sensed her friends’ disbelief and disgust.
“I have sent four separate messengers to Dallorod trying to secure peace,” Glorlad went on, “but all were sent away and two were even attacked and wounded.” He paused for a moment, despair contorting his noble face. “Then Sirion went. He had hoped since he is half Beldonian that Lord Andron would speak to him . . . he has not returned.”
Speaking in a tone of deep concern, Halandor asked, “How long ago was this?”
“Two weeks now,” Glorlad responded, his voice low and sad. “So you see why I cannot spare my troops. I believe war between Althilion and Beldon is imminent. If Lord Andron refuses to discuss any kind of peaceful relationship between our countries, then these attacks we are suffering will continue, and I cannot stand for that. And if Sirion is still alive, I will not allow them to hold him captive. Even if we held off and did give you aid, I am afraid Beldon would see it as an opportunity to attack Althilion while she is left defenseless. I’m sure you can understand our position.”
“Yes, of course,” Darian assured him, though all could see he was considering what this news meant for them. “You must protect your people, but I fear this means defeat for Eldor.”
With a deeply troubled expression, Glorlad said, “I know not what else to do.”
Darian sat back in his chair as the room fell silent. Finally, he spoke with determination. “It is our plan to go to Dallorod from here because I believe we need Beldon’s help as well if we are to defeat Zirtan. I will do everything in my power to convince Lord Andron of what a dire situatio
n we are in and that making you their enemy is beyond foolish. If we do not all stand together against Zirtan, all will fall.”
“I sincerely hope you can. The last thing I desire is war.”
Darian went on, “And if Sirion is there, we will do whatever it takes to get him out, I promise you that. We will leave first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Glorlad said gratefully. “You are all welcome here tonight.” He instructed Gilhir, “Assist them in bedding down their horses.” To the group he said, “I will have supper prepared for you.”
Darian stood. “Thank you, my lord.”
He and the others followed Gilhir back outside. As they were leading their horses toward the stable, Makilien looked up at Halandor.
“Who is Sirion?” She’d noticed how concerned everyone had become at the news he was missing.
“He’s a good friend of ours,” Halandor answered, “and he is Lord Glorlad’s nephew. His mother was a Beldonian woman. His family was killed when Sirion was a young boy. Lord Glorlad took him in and raised him as a son.”
Makilien felt terrible now that she knew what he meant to all of them, especially to Lord Glorlad. “Do you think . . . he’s alive?”
“I pray so,” Halandor answered quietly.
As soon as the horses were taken care of, Gilhir brought them back to Lord Glorlad’s house where a delicious meal awaited them. Their conversation with Lord Glorlad about the situation with Beldon continued late into the night.
* * *
The quietness of early dawn surrounded Makilien as she came to consciousness. After four solid days of travel and camping out, she was reluctant to get out of bed, but she knew she must. Her friends were likely already up and would soon be ready to leave for Beldon.
She dressed, made the bed, and left the comfortable room. The house was quiet, but as she made her way down the hall, a door opened ahead of her, and Halandor appeared. They smiled at each other.
Truth: Makilien Trilogy - Book 1 Page 12
