Kingdoms and the Elves of the Reaches: Omnibus

by Robert Stanek

  A soft knock on the door followed by whispers caused her momentary alarm. “Lady Isador?”

  “Do I sound like Lady Isador?” replied a voice in a hushed tone.

  “Emel?” asked Adrina.

  “Of course Emel. Are you going to let me in?”

  “Just a minute.” Adrina slipped a robe around her then opened the door. “Hurry up, hurry up. No one saw you come up here did they?”

  “Do I look stupid? Close the door, close the door.”

  Adrina closed the door. She almost ran into his arms, but caught herself on the first step. “Must remember your station, dear,” she whispered to herself—Lady Isador’s words.

  “You’re muttering, I can’t understand you. I nearly ran into that attendant of yours. I told her I was making my rounds. She seemed to believe me. I think she rather likes me. She is pretty don’t you think?”

  Noticing how handsome Emel looked in the pale light, Adrina stared—here before her was twice the man the son of Klaive was.

  Their eyes met, she averted her eyes from his. “I was worried. I heard the trumpet calls and when you didn’t return I thought something dreadful had happened to you.”

  Emel chuckled. “Something did happen and you’re not going to believe me.”

  Adrina directed her eyes at Emel. Okay tell me, they said.

  Emel started laughing again. “You wouldn’t believe what happened to Ridemaster Gabrylle.”

  Go on, Adrina’s eyes said.

  “We were skirting the Braddabaggon foothills on the return. Twelve new recruits, never been on a mount before in their lives. Twelve more that’d done border patrol once or twice, but still rather new to riding. Three others, acting sergeants like me. Ridemaster Gabrylle had been cursing all day long. And out pops this lowland cat. The thing was seven feet long head to tail, all claws and teeth.

  “It let out a cry and up went Ridemaster Gabrylle’s bay. Ridemaster Gabrylle fell clear from his saddle and there he sat. One more hiss out of that cat sent the new recruits running scared. And they didn’t just go in one direction. They all went in different directions. Half were clinging to their frightened mounts’ necks and the other half were just trying to stay in the saddle.

  “Ridemaster Gabrylle started screaming and cursing—it was then we noticed he’d broken his leg in the fall. He was spitting fire and those new recruits heard it and they panicked even more. They thought the cat was devouring poor Ridemaster Gabrylle. I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or help the ridemaster. It was comical as you please.”

  Adrina was laughing heartily now. She motioned to Emel to sit and hesitantly he joined her on the bed. He sat on one side, she on the other.

  “Tell me the truth of it,” Adrina said, “you ran too didn’t you?”

  “I did think about it. I didn’t want to be there when Ridemaster Gabrylle got back into the saddle.”

  “What of the trumpets?” asked Adrina, tucking her long black hair back to one side.

  “Oh that is even better.” Emel paused and took a deep breath, his eyes following Adrina’s hands. “Ridemaster Gabrylle’s leg is broken and he demands that one of us snap the bone back into place. I’d never done it before and neither had anyone else. Gabrylle pointed at me and screamed, ‘Brace the damn leg boy, I’ll do it myself!’ I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes and did it. Then I hear this snap, snap, SNAP!

  “Gabrylle lets out this scream that chilled my bones and then we hear this trumpet call from Braddabaggon way. Gabrylle points at me and three others, ‘Get that idiot boy back here,’ he screams. We mounted. Then the call comes again. By that time, the city trumpeters are already responding and it’s too late to do anything about stopping the garrison riders—you can’t countermand a call to arms.

  “We ride into the Braddabaggon a ways and at the bottom of this long round, we find this boy, sword in one hand, trumpeter’s horn in the other. His mount gone and half crazed hearing Gabrylle’s screams, he wouldn’t let anyone near him. Finally the four of us get the sword away from him—by force—and we were returning when we see two entire columns of riders approaching with lances, battle armor, and shields. They were ready for a fight. Gabrylle buried his face in his hands and wept.

  “Well actually, I thought he was weeping. Turns out he was trying so hard to hold in the laughter he was crying, broke leg and all.”

  “What happened next?” asked Adrina. She moved a little closer to Emel. “What happened to Ridemaster Gabrylle?”

  “Oh he’s all right, no riding for a couple months.”

  “No riding for a couple months,” Adrina sounded disappointed as she suddenly realized that no ridemaster probably meant the end of their hopes for the trek to Alderan. “What of the journey to Alderan? Did they select the twelve guardsmen?”

  “It would seem that the matter is more pressing than the ridemaster’s injury.” Emel paused, Adrina again moved closer to him. “I think we’ll still mount and ride tomorrow.”

  “Think or know?” demanded Adrina, moving back.

  “Well, I was told to rise before dawn and have my bags shouldered when I go to morning meal.”

  “So you made it, you’re one of the twelve. Congratulations!”

  “Wasn’t much of a choice after the cat. But I won’t be riding as a guardsman, Ridemaster Gabrylle says I’m to continue my apprenticeship into the rank of sergeant.”

  Adrina was glad of her friend’s good fortune, still, disappointment played on her face. “I guess you never got the chance to ask the ridemaster about me, did you?”

  “In all the excitement? No, I never got the chance. Still it seems the company will be much larger than expected. During the day something happened that I wasn’t privy to. I don’t know what it was but it’s sure to be the reason why two full columns answered that alarm call.

  “Seems Ridemaster Gabrylle wouldn’t have lead the party anyway. Captain Brodst, my father, will. He’s been elevated to King’s Captain for the task. There’ll be at least three garrison captains to boot. Seems half the city garrison is being roused and sent to the South. I don’t know what’s happened, but remember those two distinguished visitors in the night?”

  Adrina nodded her head.

  “The word is they’ll be accompanying us.”

  Adrina returned to her bed and some hours later greeted the new day with bleary eyes. After Emel had left she hadn’t slept at all. She had been busy plotting; somehow, she would find a way to join the company. With half the city garrison on the march, surely there was no need to fear for her safety.

  “If only to see the sea,” Adrina called out to the wind, “to smell salt air and wiggle my toes in the sand.”

  “Wiggle toes in the sand?” asked a voice from behind her.

  Adrina quickly brushed her hair back and sat up. “Sorry Lady Isador, I thought I was alone.”

  “Talking to yourself are you now. You need more fresh air dear. You look peaked. Did you sleep well last night?”

  Adrina considered lying. “Not really. It seems the world is passing me by and all I can do is watch. Do you know what I mean?”

  Isador sat down on the bed beside Adrina. “You’re talking about the departure today aren’t you. When I was a girl of sixteen, I wanted to see the whole of the land. Odd though it is, all I want to do now is go home. You see, home is the place you try so very hard to get away from only to miss dearly when you are gone.”

  “Oh Isador, are you making fun of me?”

  “No dear,” said Isador taking Adrina’s hand, “I’m not. Have you considered simply asking His Majesty?” No, Adrina hadn’t. “King Andrew can be very open-minded at times. Look to the Princess Calyin. Your sister traveled more times to the East than I care to count.”

  “That was because of her betrothal to Lord Serant of the Territories.”

  “Yes, yes it was, but the Barony of Klaive is not far removed from Alderan City.”

  Adrina winced. “I do not want my life decided for me like father tried
to decide Midori’s.”

  “Your sister’s betrothal to King Jarom was purely a matter of state and for the good of Great Kingdom,” Isador said with a stern tone. “You may never know His Majesty’s anguish over that decision, but I knew, and your mother, bless her soul, knew as well. His Majesty was simply attempting to make amends for a transgression of youth.”

  “Did my father really win mother’s hand over Jarom?”

  Isador smiled and brushed back a wayward strand of Adrina’s hair. “His Majesty won more than her hand, he won her heart, and when Alexandria came to Imtal, she brought with her Jarom’s own heart.”

  Adrina’s eyes wandered to the sunshine playing in the window. “Do you really think he would listen, Isador?” Isador replied, “You know I do, Young Highness.”

  Before she knew it she was standing before her father awaiting his response. Despite frowns and stares she maintained a smile.

  Father Tenuus, silent and brooding, stood off to King Andrew’s right, a sour frown set to his lips. The king frowned likewise, probably agreeing with the captain’s statement—the open road and a long, hard journey were no place for a young princess. Still, Father Jacob had added a rare touch. His blessing for her to accompany the group came as a surprise to say the least, and thus was surely the reason for the sour grimace Father Tenuus bore before him.

  Andrew rose from his high-backed chair and spread his broad shoulders wide. He looked first to Captain Brodst and then to the two distinguished visitors, Father Jacob and Keeper Martin. “Three years have come and gone since your mother’s passing. Each day I grieve. Each day the pain does not diminish, it grows. I am beyond healing Adrina. Queen Alexandria was my life. You look so very much like her my dear, sweet Adrina.

  “Each day I also see this pain mirrored in your eyes. I ask myself what I can do to end it. Yet, if I cannot ease my own , how can I ease it for another? I think the time away could be the time to finally heal. You may go with my blessing, my dear.”

  King Andrew looked to Lady Isador, “And, I understand you will visit the Barony of Klaive on the return. You don’t know how much that pleases me, my dear. ‘Tis a beautiful place come spring. Often I’ve envied Klaive his place by the great sea. Rudden Klaiveson is an apt and likeable fellow. When you announce your betrothal to him you will have made a wise choice, my daughter.”

  Adrina began to hurry away. She turned to look back at Lady Isador. “What of you, Lady Isador? I mean, you will come with. You do want to go home, don’t you?”

  “South Province will have to wait.” Lady Isador sighed, looked away. “Hurry along now, before I come to tears. I’ll be along in a moment to help you pack.”

  Adrina hurried to her room. She and Isador made short work of the packing. Soon after she was guiding her mount through palace gates, her head held high, her face glowing with delight at her father’s approval. It all seemed so surreal, like she was living a dream. She thought momentarily of Rudden Klaiveson, then cast the thoughts away—nothing was going to spoil her day. The Barony of Klaive was at the very least a six-day ride away, and first they would journey to Alderan by the sea.

  She rode along the cobbled streets of Imtal toward its southernmost portcullis. She knew she would miss the city. So often had she looked out her window, stared at its tall gray walls, and dreamed of things beyond that the lands beyond seemed just that, a dream. She would miss Lady Isador, her maternal nanny, and her father, Andrew, this was true. But oddly, most of all she would miss those tall gray walls. They had housed and symbolized her fears, her loss, her anger, even her hopes and dreams for so long they truly seemed a part of her. The future without them to look out at, even if only for a few weeks, seemed frightening.

  Her dreams had held her and carried her through those three long years. But now she finally had what she wanted and suddenly she felt an overwhelming urge to turn around and race back to Imtal Palace—for there, she could dwell in her dreams and hide from the truth, the cold bitter truth.

  “Pleasant thoughts,” she whispered, “only pleasant thoughts today.”

  She let her mind wander along the cobbled city streets and small shadowed alleyways they passed, pieces of her thoughts falling into every nook and cranny.

  As the iron grate clambered closed behind her the excitement of the open road before them, the open green of a large inland plain and the gentle rolling of soft hills in the distance swept her away. She held no remorse for leaving now, only hopes for the thrills that lay ahead.

  With but a gentle touch of moisture in it, the air that morning was fresh and cool. Overhead the sky was cloudy and dark and, even though it held the promise of rain, it held an appearance of serenity. Adrina inhaled a deep breath and drank in the early morning aromas—the smell of grass and of early morning dew—then tightened her grip on the reins and bid her horse to speed onward.

  Three squadrons of garrison troops filing through the city gates in ponderously long lines, four abreast, had been an awesome spectacle, yet the sound of hundreds of hooves and thousands of feet plodding along muddy ground, filling the air, was equally as spectacular.

  “Half the city garrison,” Adrina whispered to herself and to the wind, “all headed south, south to Alderan by the sea.”

  Chapter Seven:

  Meeting

  Sight had been the first sense to return to Vilmos’ tortured world. The other senses followed at a pace of their own accord—except pain. Pain it seemed had always been there, overshadowing the sense of touch. Taste came in the form of a pasty film that covered his tongue, which as he rubbed it away made his stomach sour. A vague odor came to his nostrils, the smell of his own sweat. The last sense to return was hearing. Rapid breathing burst upon him and Vilmos started.

  “You are truly the evil one,” Vilmos repeated in hushed tones.

  The sound of stifled, irregular breaths fell upon his ears again. Realizing the sound was not his own, Vilmos shrank back into the corner. He would not have been amazed to see the dark-faced one sitting beside him—this he expected—yet as he turned, meeting a warm smile, he nearly wet his pants.

  “Mi-do-ri, is that you?”

  The tutor, seated at a chair next to the bed, stared intently at him. The expression on her face was one that Vilmos did not recognize, one completely out of place, a look not of dismay or terror but of understanding and approval.

  Vilmos pinched himself to ensure he wasn’t somehow still dreaming, and then asked excitedly, “What are you doing here?”

  The teacher answered with words he had not expected. “Watching you, Vilmos,” she whispered softly.

  In reaction to his anxiety, she shuffled the chair away from him.

  “Why didn’t you wake me? I was having a terrible, terrible dream. I was probably even talking in my sleep.” Vilmos halted only for an instant to intake a breath. “I do that sometimes, just go on and on and on about nothing. The dream was scary, I think.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Midori, “we both know you were not sleeping. I am a friend, Vilmos; there is no need to fear me. I am here to help you.”

  “Then was it real? Did it really happen?” asked Vilmos with renewed vigor in his words.

  Midori glanced at Vilmos’ hands and the blood dripping from his shoulders. “If you believe it occurred, then it did. If you believe…”

  “I’m afraid,” admitted Vilmos, “are you here to take me away?”

  “No, Vilmos, I will not take you away, nor will I let the black priests take you away.” She moved the chair closer to the bed once more. “I am here to help you.”

  “I don’t need any help. Please just go away,” said Vilmos feeling suddenly brave.

  “I can’t go away Vilmos. You need my help more than you know.” Midori glanced nervously out the window. “Vilmos, you are very special. All you have to do is trust me and let me help you. Can you do that?”

  Vilmos nodded. Midori touched a dark yellow stone to the palms of his hands. “It is a healing stone,” she said, “i
t will ease the pain.”

  “Is it magic?” asked Vilmos warily.

  “In a way, perhaps,” said Midori, upturning warm green eyes to ease Vilmos’ fright, “but this stone comes from the temple of Mother-Earth.” The stone began to glow bright yellow, then slowly dulled to charcoal gray. The pain gone from his hands, Vilmos suddenly noticed the sharp throbbing of his shoulders. “I am sorry. The stone’s power is gone, but I could not have undone that anyway. I must go now. Will you come with me?”

  “Wh-wh-where,” stammered Vilmos, “are you going?”

  “I am going to meet someone. A very good friend, who is special like you. He has waited a long time for you to be ready.”