Galanör turned to his companions with his last breath. “Let’s free a dragon...”
In the same way the children had been snatched, all six elves were yanked off their feet and plunged into the icy depths of The Adean.
Chapter Seventeen
An Intimation of Hope
Reyna felt uncomfortable riding a horse that hadn’t been intended for her. The saddle wasn’t right for her form and the horse wasn’t used to her instructions. Every time she tried to take in the new landscape, the horse would come to an abrupt stop. Thankfully they had slowed down after a night and day of galloping and the rest of the group slowly trotted by, while Reyna did everything she could to encourage the horse. As an elf, she knew there was an eternal connection between her kind and every creature in Verda, but the human-bred horse was certainly putting that legend to the test.
“Argh! Come on.” The horse bent down to nibble on the grass.
“He’s used to a harder hand.” The handsome Graycoat came up on her side.
Reyna’s reply was halted by the chastising thoughts she rebuked herself with. She was the princess of all elven kind; it wasn’t befitting to be attracted to a human, especially one so filthy. His square jaw was covered in light stubble, a new sight to Reyna, and smeared with dirt from their fight in the woods. His dark eyes were annoyingly pleasant to look at, softening his overall look, that could only be defined as rough, though not as rough as the older one, Asher.
At such a young age for an elf, Reyna had yet to master her exaggerated senses and urges that were common place for her kind. She had met several other suitors in her short life, but seeing someone so different was exciting. The feeling of anticipation intensified under his lingering gaze. Still… he was nothing more than a man.
“Come on.” Nathaniel tugged hard on the horse’s reins to get it moving. “Is there something on my head?” The Graycoat met Reyna’s eyes and suddenly became self-conscious of his hair.
“Oh, no it’s just...” Reyna was embarrassed, she couldn’t help staring at his hair. “I’ve never seen hair like that before, it’s shaved so fine.” The elf could feel herself going red in the face and wished she could make herself invisible, but Faylen would seriously frown on the needless use of magic. Reyna looked to her mentor who, as it happened, was already frowning at her.
Nathaniel laughed. “It’s certainly different from yours.” The Graycoat looked at Mörygan and Faylen. “What’s it like to be back in Illian? I bet it’s changed a lot in a thousand years.”
“I’ve actually never left Ayda. I was born there.” The thought made Reyna a little sad, but she didn’t know why.
“Sorry, immortality makes age hard to guess.” His comment was met with an awkward silence.
Reyna had always felt uncomfortable with her young age. Living amongst a race of people with hundreds of years behind them made her feel naive and child-like, even as an adult.
“Reyna...” Faylen called from ahead.
Reyna knew when she was being called and not spoken to. The princess sped up, giving Nathaniel a genuine smile she often reserved for her time in the Amara, when she enjoyed the freedom of running through the forest.
When she caught up with Faylen there was nothing to say - her mentor’s expression was enough. The group rode on for another hour before they came across a herd of deer, grazing beyond the Selk road. Seeing the familiar wildlife put Reyna at ease in unknown lands, but it also made her stomach rumble.
“We should make camp soon,” Asher announced, looking at the setting sun. “Give the horses a chance to rest overnight before the hard ride tomorrow.”
“Perhaps we could eat...?” Elaith’s eyes were fixed on the deer, while she removed her bow.
“I’ll come too,” Reyna replied eagerly.
“No.” Faylen was quick to stop her. “We are hunted in these lands, Reyna.”
“I don’t think the deer pose much of a threat.” Reyna was already notching an arrow and struggling to manoeuvre her stubborn horse.
Faylen was about to further her protest when Asher rode up. “I’ll go with them.” The ranger turned to Darius Devale. “Start a fire and make a spit.” The Graycoat was clearly unhappy about his instructions.
“And why should I trust her life to you, Outlander?” Faylen’s tone was harsh.
Asher threw his cloak aside and removed a wooden object from behind his back. Reyna’s keen ears heard the distinct click before the object unravelled into the shape of a bow. The princess was impressed with its practicality, but it wasn't nearly as well crafted as her own.
“I’ll go.” Nathaniel stepped in, meeting Reyna’s eyes.
The princess was quick to reply, “Neither of you are required...” With her horse turned to the open field, Reyna galloped away.
On her way past, Reyna shot Faylen a look that told her mentor she had chosen her words poorly with regard to the ranger. It was clear that Asher was made of stronger stuff and wouldn’t be affected by Faylen’s words, but she still disagreed with her harsh choice of words. After years together, they were able to share a lot of messages and unheard words with nothing but their eyes. Faylen rolled her own and made no move to follow the princess across the field, giving the Reyna the trust she desired.
The deer scattered as the three riders galloped through the field, bows ready. Elaith fired first, missing a deer by a foot and striking a tree instead. Nathaniel released his arrow next, leaning out from his horse with ease. His arrow bored into the chest of a fully grown deer and dropped it in its tracks.
Reyna felt like showing off.
The princess adjusted her weight atop the saddle, placing her balance on her right leg while her left foot rested on the flat of the saddle. The unorthodox position was easily achieved with Reyna’s unique sense of balance. She took a slow breath, exhaling, as she drew back on the bowstring, anchoring the arrow and settling on her target. Releasing the arrow was the most satisfying feeling she knew. The intended deer skidded to the ground with an arrow protruding from the back of its head.
“Damn it!” Elaith cursed, missing her next target. The young Graycoat notched another arrow but the herd had already retreated into the woods.
To Reyna’s elven eyes however, the deer could still be seen amidst the trees. The princess raised her bow again and brought down the final deer.
“That was an impossible shot!” Elaith looked off into the woods.
“Not for an elf.” Reyna heard Faylen’s voice in her mind again; a princess should never be smug. “I would be happy to show you some of our techniques while we’re on the road.”
“I’m not sure Nathaniel would be happy with that,” Elaith replied quietly. “He considers himself quite the archer.”
Before Reyna could reply, Nathaniel emerged from the woods with a deer slung over his shoulder and another one dragging behind him. “You’re good with a bow, Princess Reyna.”
“Please, just Reyna...” The Graycoat’s gruff appearance continued to pull her in, calling to the baser instincts that ruled many of her kind.
Nathaniel simply nodded, clearly unsure as to how to respond to such a request from royalty. The three returned to the makeshift camp, as dusk settled in, heralding the stars.
When the moon had almost crossed the vastness of the starry field above, Reyna peeked her head over Faylen’s sleeping form and stole a glance at the camp’s guardians. Asher and Nathaniel sat by the fire, talking to each other in hushed tones. The princess watched the two in fascination, each so very human in their appearance and movement. The ranger was old by the look of his greying hair and white stubble, with the smallest of wrinkles spreading out from his eyes. Nathaniel was still young, with his smooth skin and short, dark hair, though his jaw was chiseled in the style of many elves. The Graycoat’s dark eyes were a stark contrast to the crystal blue of the ranger in the firelight.
“I just can’t believe we’re sitting amongst actual elves,” Nathaniel whispered like an excited boy. “Isn’t this
a little surreal, even for you?”
“I’ve seen stranger things.” Asher sounded as if he was telling the truth.
Reyna promised herself to ask the ranger about his extraordinary life when she next had the chance. She wanted to soak everything up while she was surrounded by the humans, to take in and remember as much as she could about them and their various cultures before... the thought that came next disturbed Reyna.
“I must admit, they’re not exactly what I imagined,” Nathaniel continued.
“Forget everything you were ever taught about the elves,” Asher warned. “They’re not the people you heard about as a child or read about in books. Long gone are the days of singing to the trees to make the forests grow, or devoting themselves to the arts and music. We made them hard. They’re faster than us, stronger, more intelligent and they can wield magic in a way that makes us look like children. They appear to be beautiful and inviting, but they’re at the apex of any food chain, even the dragons. We’re lucky they decided to leave Illian when they did.”
“Why?” Asher had Nathaniel’s full attention.
“Because if they decided to fight us, humanity would be just another footnote in the history books.”
Nathaniel turned to look at her and the others with a different kind of curiosity in his expression. The princess ducked down and stayed very still, imitating sleep, while her ears remained highly attuned to the humans. How could Asher know such things about the elves? For a race that she had been told were very simple, the ranger was proving to be quite the mystery.
“How can you know such things?” Nathaniel asked, disbelieving.
Reyna quite liked the way the Graycoat saw her kind.
“Nightfall has extensive libraries. The knowledge the Arakesh have built over the millennia would dwarf even the archives of Korkanath.”
Nightfall... Reyna had heard about the mysterious guild of assassins during their preparations. What was Asher’s connection? The princess dared to steal another glimpse over Faylen’s sleeping form. Something about the old ranger didn’t sit right with her.
The sound of thunder rumbling overhead accompanied the change in pressure around the elf. The storm was growing.
“We’ll need to leave before dawn if we’re to carry on through this storm.” Asher and Nathaniel began to move, but Reyna kept her head down and pretended to be asleep. “We should wake the others and make our way.”
“How do you wake a princess?” Nathaniel asked.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Asher replied coolly. “She’s been awake for a while.”
Even in the dead-cold of night, Reyna’s face still managed to blush.
Chapter Eighteen
The Hand of Valanis
Deep within the thick rock, hidden in the canyons of The Arid Lands’ endless deserts, reality was ripped apart for a fraction of a second, ushering one of the oldest creatures in all of Illian. Thallan Tassariön stumbled into the dimly lit room, carved out of the rust-red rock that made up the entire valley. His dark armour and cloak had stopped smouldering, but his pale flesh was still healing from the fire, cast by the mysterious ranger. In order to traverse five hundred miles with a single portal, Thallan had been forced to sacrifice more magic instead of healing his burns.
The elf was thankful for the depth of the cave and the cool air that blew through the open wooden door. The corridor beyond was lined with torches, illuminating its incredible length. The secret room in which he found himself was empty, with the exception of the fire-pit in the centre, which cast shadows amongst the arches lining the chamber. The smoke drifted high, disappearing through small holes, bored into the rock.
Thallan thumbed the diamond crystal fixed into the hilt of his sword. He called on the magic reserves stored within to return him to full health. Even the great sword had been depleted with the massive jump, and would require meditation to top it up. For now he would have to heal slowly and endure the pain. It was no matter; Thallan’s master had taught him what real pain was centuries ago, in the depths of the Ice Vales. With the help of the Gods, Valanis had conquered pain and passed on the lessons to his chief disciples. The elf could draw on the pain and use it to fuel his passion and complete the master’s work.
With one hand, Thallan removed the mask that covered his mouth and nose and pulled back his hood. Using delicate fingers, the elf stroked his bald head, feeling the severity of the burns that disrupted the flow of ancient script, tattooed across his scalp. When the skin healed, the tattoos would be replaced as perfectly as his pale skin. It had been a long time since Thallan had been on the wrong end of a fight. How could a simple ranger not only stand against his power, but actually repel him? The elf relived the encounter in his mind and saw the ageing human produce the fireball without uttering a word. Who was he?
“You’re late.” The deep voice came from the shadows, filling the room with a power that Thallan was all too aware could rival his own.
“How can I be late, Alidyr, if the meeting doesn’t start until I arrive?” Thallan met Alidyr’s defiant expression with a stony gaze of his own.
Alidyr stepped out of the shadows, sweeping his long white robes behind him, to reveal the magnificent twin short-swords that hung on his waist. The tall elf circled the fire-pit with his hands behind his back, the light reflecting in his deep blue eyes. It was the only feature they shared, Thallan thought. The power bestowed on them by Valanis had altered their appearance, enriching their eyes with an unattainable blue. Unlike the rest of the Hand of Valanis, Alidyr kept his hair long to hide the ancient script.
Three flashes of light momentarily blinded the two elves and the smell of sulphur filled their noses. After a hard blink, Thallan looked over the three shadowy figures of his oldest companions, though rivals would be a better word. All three wore the same black armour and hooded cloak, with a mask covering their mouth and nose. Each was in possession of the gifted weapon, granted to them by Valanis.
“Brothers, sister...” Thallan greeted them with a nod, turning his head to hide his burns in the shadows.
Alidyr simply came to a stop in front of the wooden door, clasping his hands inside the sleeves of his robes.
“You are injured...” Samandriel Zathya stepped towards Thallan, her own deep, blue eyes scanning his burnt attire.
“He failed.” Alidyr’s flat tone ignited a fire inside Thallan.
“Perhaps you should train your assassins to a better standard.” Thallan met the eyes of all four, daring them to challenge him as openly as Alidyr had.
“What happened?” Nakir Galvörd gripped the deadly whip coiled at his waist, each of its tendrils capable of cracking stone.
Thallan thought of the best way to convey his failure without making himself sound weak. “The Arakesh couldn’t even defeat the Graycoats.” The injured elf scowled at Alidyr. “The princess still lives, and is now being escorted to Velia by the survivors and...” He hesitated, unsure how to describe the other human.
“What is it?” Adellum Bövö’s rough voice cut through the crackling of the fire. His mask and cloak concealed the scar that marred his throat, a souvenir from the siege of Elethiah, a thousand years ago.
“There was another,” Thallan continued. “A human ranger stood unaffected by my power.” The elf detected the slightest hint of curious movement from Alidyr. “He commanded magic as if he were an elf, without a wand or staff.”
“Impossible!” Adellum stated flatly.
Samandriel shifted her double-ended spear to one side. “My sources in Velia tell me King Rengar has hired an Outlander to travel with the Graycoats. There is only one Outlander I know of who lives as a ranger.”
The new information caused all eyes to fall on Alidyr. If this ranger really was the traitorous Arakesh, then it would only serve to highlight more of Alidyr’s failings.
“You’re awfully quiet, Alidyr.” Thallan moved closer to the fire-pit. “Wasn’t there an assassin under your tutelage who also happened to be an Outlande
r? The very same Outlander who fled the order, I believe.”
Even under the scrutiny, Alidyr’s expression remained passive. “Asher never showed any talent for magic. He preferred to be up close when he took a life.”
“A deception, perhaps?” Nakir offered. “To hide his real skill.”
“As a human he shouldn’t even have that skill,” Adellum replied, his eyes still on Alidyr. “No human has ever commanded magic as we have. They’re too primitive.”
“He was Nasta Nal-Aket’s pet-project, as I recall,” Alidyr added, casually.
Thallan could see through the elf. Alidyr was trying to make it appear as if the ranger was of no concern, and certainly with no ties to him. He was trying to make Thallan look weak, but it wouldn’t work. Alidyr had lost his place as head of the Hand and it would never revert back.
“Then it seems, Alidyr, that you are in the perfect position to unravel the mystery of this... Asher. You are to use your role within Nightfall to investigate this man, and discover how he is able to resist the power of Valanis.” Thallan looked in the direction of the corridor behind Alidyr. The secret room in which they resided had been constructed centuries ago as an annex to the rest of Nightfall.
“As you wish...” Alidyr bowed, in what Thallan felt was mock-respect.
“The ranger is a side-note.” Samandriel cut through the tension. “What of the Darkakin?”
“Arrangements have been made,” Alidyr replied. “The Goddess is amassing her people from across the south. They are preparing for war.”
Nakir laughed. “Only a human would have the arrogance to grant themselves such a title.”
“The Darkakin will not be enough if Ayda comes to the aid of Illian,” Adellum pointed out. “Our cousins must be taken out of the picture. Thallan, allow me to hunt the princess, my bow never misses.”
“Our strike must be surgical,” Thallan rested a hand on Adellum’s shoulder. “I fear your methods would reveal our existence, the master would not want that yet. The king of elves has no desire to help the world of man, and a war between the two lands will weaken them both. His daughter is already here to begin their own invasion.”
Rise of the Ranger (Echoes of Fate: Book 1) Page 17
