The Beasts of Areon
By Aaron J. Ethridge
Additional info can be found at:
Areonuniverse.com
Copyright © 2016 by Aaron J. Ethridge
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Printing, 2016
ASIN: B01CIJAPVY
Kindle Edition
Ethridge Publishing
2311 Lake Drive
Williston, SC 29853
Aaronjethridge.com
Before you begin...
The Beasts of Areon is the second volume in The Chronicles of Areon series. Although you can certainly enjoy the books out of sequence, you may find it even more enjoyable to read them in the correct order. The first volume (The Stars of Areon) is currently available on Amazon.com. If you’re interested, you can purchase it using this link: The Stars of Areon
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Two Roads
Chapter 2: A Fortunate Meeting
Chapter 3: An Unpleasant Surprise
Chapter 4: A Long Road
Chapter 5: An Audience
Chapter 6: A Call to Arms
Chapter 7: A Pleasant Surprise
Chapter 8: In Search of the Foe
Chapter 9: The Stronghold
Chapter 10: Unusual Behavior
Chapter 11: A Safe Haven
Chapter 12: A Door
Chapter 13: A Passage
Chapter 14: A Foe
Chapter 15: Homeward Bound
Thank You!
Chapter 1: Two Roads
The small band rode along in silence; each wrapped in their own thoughts. The sun, which had risen to its zenith, broke through clouds and leaves alike; filling the open forest glades with patches of golden light as the riders passed through. Only hours before, they had bidden their companions farewell; uncertain as to how long it might be before they were united once again.
The group would have made a rather unique spectacle, had there been anyone there to observe them. Erana, the beautiful elvish ranger, rode at the front of the small column; her hood thrown back, silver hair hanging down across her shoulders, and her deep green eyes dreamily scanning the surrounding woodlands. She was the very image of contented young love.
A large gray wolf padded through the woodlands alongside the elvish maiden's mount. Erana had befriended the beast recently and, for the time being at least, Rragor considered the ranger and her companions part of his pack.
The rear guard of the party was none other than Ian Donald Angus Malcolm McFaren of the clan McFaren, the famous dwarvish bard. He sat atop a sturdy white pony, attired in fine blue clothing trimmed with silver lace. His hat, which was made of the same material and ornamented with a long white feather, was pushed back to keep its brim from brushing against the large book he held open before him.
Kilren, a young human who had – up until very recently – been making his living as a petty thief, rode between the two. Of the three, he was the only one who didn't appear completely at ease. He seemed almost to squirm in the saddle as they rode along. His long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which was keeping it out of his sweaty face. His bright blue eyes shot from tree, to stone, to sky, as if his mind were searching for something – for anything – to distract him. The young rogue seemed more like the prisoner than the companion of his fellow travelers.
“Trees are nice,” Kilren thought silently to himself as he ran his hand across his sweat covered brow once again. “They're really reliable. Sturdy. That's the word: sturdy. They just sit in one place day after day; never wondering how they ended up where they are, never wondering what's over the next hill. And, why not? Because they're sturdy; that's why! A tree would probably make a great husband.”
This rather unusual thought seemed to take the handsome young man by surprise. He sat up straight in the saddle, his eyes darting around the forest glen – hoping to fall on something that might catch his attention. A shadow moving along the forest floor did just that.
He looked up to see a hawk floating in the air just above the verdant canopy. The creature was riding the wind; flying freely without even having to flap its wings.
“That animal has no idea just how free it is,” the young rogue thought as he watched the bird; a slight smile gracing his lips. “It has no worries, no cares, no responsibilities. It can go where it wants, when it wants, and nothing can stop it.”
As these thoughts passed through Kilren's mind, the bird dove to the ground. It snacked a small rodent from the earth in its vice-like talons before rising quickly into the air once more.
“And, it enjoys the endless thrill of the hunt,” he thought, slowly shaking his head as he did so. “It must be incredible to be a hawk.”
The bird headed to a nearby tree; Kilren's gaze following its flight. As the young rogue watched, it deposited its prey in a nest that was occupied by the hawk's mate and several chirping fledglings. Kilren looked away.
His eyes shot upward and the rogue began to consider the sun, the moon, the stars, the clouds, and all the many things in the universe that seem so cyclical. He considered the idea that they spin in eternal circles that have neither an ending nor a beginning.
“Much like a wedding ring,” Kilren almost whispered to himself.
“What was that?” the beautiful Erana asked, glancing at him over her shoulder.
The suddenly broken silence seemed to startle the young rogue out of a daze. He convulsed in the saddle; nearly falling from the back of his mount.
“Sorry, what?” he replied, raising his bright blue eyes to meet those of his bride-to-be.
“I was just asking what you said,” Erana answered, looking pensively at the young rogue. “Are you alright?”
“Of course I am,” Kilren replied, forcing a laugh and wiping his brow again.
“Well, you seem... ill...” the ranger said thoughtfully. “You're covered in sweat.”
“It's nothing,” he said with grin. “I'm just a little hot.”
“Ian, what do you think?” Erana asked.
The sturdy dwarf glanced up at Kilren from over the edge of his book.
“Aye, I must admit the lad does look a little flushed,” he replied with a nod.
“I'm fine,” Kilren asserted. “Honestly. I was just distracted. I guess my mind was wandering. How long do you think it will take us to...”
Here, the rogue trailed off; staring into space.
“To what?” Ian asked, raising one eyebrow as he considered the rogue.
“Sorry,” Kilren said, seeming to wake from a dream. “To... to get to where we're going.”
“Not too long,” Erana replied. “I think we can make it to our last campsite on the other side of the Neres by this evening. Then, we'll head north-west for a few days. My family lives on the outskirts of Inmal. As soon as we get there, we can...”
At this point, the voice of the elvish maiden became inaudible.
“Can what?” the dwarvish bard asked, shifting his gaze from the rogue to the ranger.
“Oh,” she replied with a blush. “We can speak with my father.”
Ian closed his book, storing it safely in one of his saddle bags before turning his smiling face to the young couple.
“You two have nothing to be nervous about,” he assured them.
“I'm not nervous” they both replied in unison.
“Well, that's good,” the dwarf chuckled. “Because, in truth, there's no reason to be. E
rana, I feel confident your father will approve of Kilren; even if he is a human. Well... given time.”
“What do you mean by given time?” Kilren asked, knitting his brows. “Come to that, what do you mean by even if he is a human?”
“Well,” Erana began, her gaze shifting to the ground, “many elves feel that humans and elves shouldn't wed.”
“Why not?” the rogue asked, the rising inflection in his voice containing an air of offended pride.
“It's nothing personal, lad,” the bard assured him. “Dwarves generally feel the same way but, honestly, it's not at all personal.”
“So, you wouldn't want your daughter to marry a human; but, it's nothing personal?” Kilren asked, straightening up in the saddle as he did so. “Well, I'm glad to know where I stand with you, Ian.”
“Don't be silly, lad,” the bard said with a smile. “The fact is, you rank amongst my favorite people in all of Areon. Although, I admit I'm not sure why that's true...”
Ian paused for a moment, scratching himself under his beard before continuing.
“But, I'm talking about the practical aspects of such a marriage.”
“What practical aspects?” the rogue asked.
“Well, let's start with aging,” the bard replied. “You're seventeen and, for a human, you look it. Erana is already thirty but, from your point of view, she's half that age. What kind of shape will you be in when she's one hundred?”
“Dead!” the rogue exclaimed, throwing his hands out in front of him and shaking his head.
Ian involuntarily burst out laughing at Kilren's observation.
“Well, maybe not dead,” he replied. “However, you see my point. Erana could be a widow before she's middle aged.”
“I don't want to talk about this,” Erana said, quickly shaking her head. “It doesn't matter. I love him. That's all that matters.”
“You love me?” the rogue asked as a broad smile spread across his face.
“Well, of course I love you!” she exclaimed. “I would hardly agree to marry a man I didn't love!”
“Of course,” Kilren replied with a nod. “It's just that you've never said it out loud.”
“Well, I do,” the ranger said, blushing once again. “Of course, you've never put it in those exact words, either.”
The handsome young rogue moved his steed closer to that of the fair elvish maid.
“Well, I do,” he said, gazing deeply into her eyes. “I really do. I love you, Erana. I think I loved you the very first time my eyes met yours. I love you more than life. And, I always will.”
“That's what really matters,” Ian said with a smile. “Everything else will follow if you two want it to. As I said, Erana, I'm certain you'll be able to get your father's approval. And, Kilren, you'll get used to the idea. Well... given time.”
“What do you mean by given time?” Erana asked, knitting her brows. “Come to that, what do you mean by used to the idea?”
The noon-day sun bathed Andor's Fortress, as it was called, in its bright golden light. Banners bearing the symbol of Solarin – a golden sun on a field of white – fluttered in the breeze from atop the many towers that gave support to the building's white stone walls. Nearby, in a flower covered meadow, a young couple walked side by side; deep in conversation.
The taller of the pair was Darian, the Telian Knight who had only recently had his sixteenth birthday and completed The Journey; the final trial of all Telian. A single glance at his fit and muscular frame revealed, even to the relatively unobservant, that he was a man of action. His warm brown eyes were both alert and filled with a true love for life.
Gwendolyn, a fourteen-year-old girl that the young knight had recently helped rescue, strode along at his side. Her long blond hair hung down her back, waiving slightly in the cool spring air. Her bright green eyes sparkled excitedly as she spoke; her gaze shifting continually from the brightly colored flowers to the handsome young knight.
“I miss them already,” she sighed, renewing the topic of the morning.
“So do I,” the knight nodded, “but, we'll see them soon enough.”
“It will be months!” she exclaimed.
“Well, that's true,” Darian agreed. “Your training will help the time pass; you can be sure of that.”
“I hope you're right,” she said, sighing once again. “I guess I'll find out soon. We're supposed to start tomorrow morning.”
“I'm sure you'll enjoy it,” the young knight smiled.
“I know I will. I just hope it does make the time pass... I miss them already.”
“So do I,” the knight once again agreed as something in the distance caught his eye. “I wonder who that is.”
Gwendolyn followed the knight's gaze to the edge of the forest from which a young man had just emerged. He was walking quickly in the direction of the pair and staring directly at them. Whoever he was, and whatever his purpose, they would soon find out. Darian felt confident that he was a friend. Only a fool would come this close to his lord's home as an enemy. Still, Valrak was a dangerous foe and it was wise to be cautious. In silent prayer, he asked the Eilian to open his eyes. A sense of peace filled him. This man was no danger.
Within minutes, the young man reached them. He was dressed in a long white robe covered in arcane symbols of silver. Around his neck was a slender gold chain from which hung a medallion in the shape of the sun. His dark brown hair hung down around his shoulders and his eyes, which were strikingly green, seemed to almost sparkle in the sunlight as he approached.
“I take it you are Sir Darian,” the young man said, his emerald gaze meeting the knight's own.
“I am,” the Telian nodded.
“This, then, is most probably Gwendolyn,” he said turning his gaze to the maiden.
“She is,” Darian replied. “May I ask...”
“Of course, of course,” the young man smiled. “My name is Jalek, and I've been sent by Baldorin to speak to Lord Andor.”
As he spoke, he reached out and took the young knight's wrist, shaking it heartily.
“What about?” the Telian asked.
“Trouble, I'm afraid,” Jalek replied.
“You know Baldorin?” Gwendolyn interjected.
“Indeed I do, Miss,” he nodded.
“Are you the young man he sent to tell my parents I was coming here?”
“Indeed I am, Miss,” he replied with another nod.
“Well, then, I'm very glad we've met,” the maiden said with a broad smile. “Thank you so much for what you did. It spared them a good deal of heartache.”
“That was Baldorin's hope,” the young man replied. “I was very happy to offer such a service. However, I fear time is of the essence. Sir Darian, could you escort me to Lord Andor?”
“Happily,” the knight replied, turning immediately to head back toward the fortress.
The trio quickly made their way to the dining hall where Lord Andor, along with Gwendolyn's parents, were having their mid-day meal. The silver dishes that lay before them on the long, rough, wooden table were almost empty when Darian and his companions entered.
“I hate to interrupt you, sir,” the young Telian said, approaching his liege lord. “But it seems Baldorin sent this young man to you with a message.”
“Think nothing of it, my boy,” the old man replied. “We were almost finished anyway.”
“Well met, Jalek,” Gwendolyn's father said, rising from his seat and taking the young man by the wrist.
“Well met, Faelor,” the young man replied with a nod. “It's good to see you again, as well, Galina.”
“Indeed, it is,” She smiled.
“You have a message for me?” Andor asked, turning his gaze to the young man.
“I do, sir,” Jalek replied. “Yesterday afternoon, Baldorin had an audience with the king of Innalas. He's in need of both your council and your aid.”
“Why didn't Baldorin come himself?” the old Telian asked, a gentle smile spreading across his features.
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“He felt that his presence here might... be a source of concern for the local population,” Jalek answered. “He believed that, in this case, it would be wiser to send the message with me.”
“Well, he strikes me as a wise creature,” Andor replied. “What else do you know of the situation?”
“I know that the wild beasts throughout Innalas have begun to behave oddly,” the young man said, his eyes set on those of the aged lord. “There have also been a number of troll attacks recently. However, his real concern is that the trolls seem almost organized. Some are even using weapons. One killed three days ago was wearing makeshift armor.”
“Is that unusual?” Darian asked, glancing from the young man to the aged Telian.
“I think almost unheard of, would be a better way to put it,” Andor replied, raising his hand to his chin as he spoke. “How frequent have these attacks become?”
“It's not the frequency that concerns King Illfas,” Jalek said, shaking his head, “so much as it is the oddity of the circumstances.”
“Well, he's right to be concerned, and he was wise to ask for counsel,” the old Telian nodded. “Darian, how long would it take you to prepare for a journey of a few days?”
“I can be ready to leave within the hour, sir,” the knight replied excitedly.
“Excellent,” the old man said. “I want you to investigate this situation thoroughly. We need to find out exactly what's happening in order to put a stop to it.”
“Lord Andor,” Jalek began after a brief pause, “it was Baldorin's sincere hope, as well as the hope of King Illfas, that you would come personally.”
“So I shall,” the aged Telian replied. “However, it will be days before I can leave the fortress. I have several matters to attend to before I depart. Of course, if the situation is truly urgent...”
The young man's brows drew together as he considered the situation.
“No, sir,” he replied at last. “I don't believe it truly qualifies as urgent at the moment. However, I'm not sure that a Telian with as little experience as Sir Darian...”
The Beasts of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 2) Page 1
