The Beasts of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 2)

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  “I assure you,” the young knight interjected, “I can handle myself!”

  “Of that, I'm very well aware,” Jalek replied with a slight bow. “It's just that this situation has left even Baldorin feeling... uncertain... I believe we may be in need of Lord Andor's wisdom more than Sir Darian's strength.”

  “Wisdom comes from the Eilian,” Darian replied.

  “That is a wise response,” Andor said smiling up at the young Telian. “Of course, wisdom also comes with experience and there's only one way to get that.”

  “Very well,” Jalek nodded. “I'm certain King Illfas will appreciate any aid Sir Darian can offer. Especially as Lord Andor will be joining him as quickly as he's able. With your leave, sir, I'll be on my way. I have miles to go before the sun sets today.”

  “Of course, Jalek,” the old man replied. “Thank you for bringing us the message. We'll have Sir Darian on his way as soon as possible.”

  “You have my thanks!” the young man said before bowing and quickly leaving the room.

  “Darian,” the old Telian began, “I want you to take Tealor and Sarena with you. Do your best to catch up with your former companions as quickly as possible. It may be that Ian knows something of this but, even if he doesn't, it would be wise for you all to travel together. Innalas may not be as safe as it once was.”

  “I want to go, too!” Gwendolyn exclaimed.

  “Absolutely not!” her mother instantly replied.

  “There's no point in my staying here if Sarena is leaving!” she cried. “She can't instruct me if she isn't here.”

  “The point is to keep you safe,” her mother asserted. “As long as you're here, you're safe. I'm not going to lose you again!”

  “Your mother may be...” Darian began.

  “Stay out of this, Darian!” the maiden snapped, glaring at the young knight.

  “I only meant to...”

  “Well, don't!” she replied before turning her gaze back to her mother. “I'll be perfectly safe with them. They rescued me from an entire army.”

  “That is exactly my point, Gwendolyn!” Galina said. “Are you trying to tempt the Eilian? Do you want Valrak to get his hands on you again?”

  “We can't let that happen dear,” Faelor said, looking at his daughter with a gentle smile on his face. “We have to protect you.”

  “Mother, you're just being...”

  At this point, Lord Andor raised his hands to request silence.

  “Galina, if you would be willing to listen to an old man,” he began.

  “Of course, Lord Andor,” she replied, clearly not overly pleased.

  “For the moment, Lord Valrak has been defeated,” he said, slowly considering his words as he spoke. “I'm not yet certain what use he has for Gwendolyn but, he needs her for something...”

  “Exactly my...” the maiden's mother began before Andor's waving hand once again asked for quiet.

  “My point is that, although Valrak isn't likely to accept defeat forever, he has been routed for the moment. I know that he wants Gwendolyn. And he knows that I know. Whatever his plan is, it's keeping him from making a direct assault on this fortress. If he decided to do that, we might not be able to stop him.”

  As the aged Telian said this, Gwendolyn's mother and father gazed at each other with dread filling their eyes.

  “However,” Andor continued, “at the moment I have no reason to believe that he intends to do that. As such, the path between here and Innalas should be relatively secure. Once within the boundaries of that kingdom, she will be safely out of Valrak's reach. Will it be dangerous? Certainly. But life is full of dangers. Your daughter is a very powerful sorceress. She's going to have to live with that for the rest of her life and so are you.”

  Andor paused for a moment to let the couple consider his words before continuing.

  “She is going to have to learn to use her power. She is going to have to learn to defend herself. This journey will be a relatively safe way for her to do that. She managed to save Darian's life twice during her rescue. She may be able to do as much again. I know she's young and that this is difficult for you. But, if you'll take my advice, you'll let her go. Of course, you are her parents and I'll respect your decision, whatever it is.”

  Galina gazed at her husband, tears forming in her eyes, and nodded.

  “Very well,” Faelor sighed. “She can go.”

  “Thank you!” the maiden exclaimed, hugging her parents each in turn.

  “Darian,” Galina began, her voice cracking before she could say more.

  “I'll take care of her,” the young knight assured the maiden's mother.

  “We'll take care of each other,” Gwendolyn giggled. “I really did save his life twice, you know.”

  With the decision made, no more time was wasted. In less than an hour, Darian and Gwendolyn – along with the mighty warrior Tealor and his beautiful wife Sarena – were ready to depart. The party would be escorted by ten of Andor's men-at-arms to ensure their safety as far as the border. Once within Innalas, they would be out of Valrak's reach and they were quite capable of defending themselves from trolls or wild beasts.

  Tealor led the band astride his massive war horse. The beast was much like its rider; its thick, iron bones covered by rippling muscles. Its dark brown color matched its master's eyes, as well as his neatly trimmed hair and beard. Both were the very image of strength and power.

  Beside the warrior, his bride, Sarena, rode. Her own mount was a pure white beast that was so lightly built that its hooves seemed hardly to touch the ground as it galloped quickly across the open fields. The sorceress' long red hair flew behind her, her emerald green eyes sparkling with energy and excitement.

  Their former companions had a head-start, but they would catch them quickly. Much of the distance that separated the two groups was covered by open meadows and gently rolling hills. And, of course, the bard, the ranger, and the rogue weren't likely to be in any hurry. The party might not reach them before the sun set, but they would certainly do so before the following afternoon.

  “For the third time, I didn't say that!” Kilren exclaimed. “Ian did!”

  “Well, he wouldn't have said it if you hadn't been thinking it!” Erana retorted.

  “And, for the third time, that doesn't make any sense!” the rogue said, shaking his head rapidly.

  Ian, having witnessed many lover's tiffs in his time, was wise enough to remain silent during his companions' rather heated discussion. In fact, he had even taken the precaution of getting far enough ahead of the pair to be out of easy earshot. It would be much more difficult for them to drag him into it if he couldn't hear them when they asked for his opinion or support.

  “I just don't understand what there is for you to be nervous about,” the elvish maiden said, staring straight in front of her.

  “I've told you; I'm not nervous!” Kilren replied, throwing his hands into the air.

  “Then, why did you say you were?” Erana asked, refusing to turn her head.

  “Alright...” the rogue sighed. “Four... For the fourth time. I didn't say that. Ian said that.”

  “Well, he wouldn't have said it if you hadn't been thinking it.” the elf again asserted.

  Kilren reached up and slowly ran his hand through his hair.

  “Alright,” he began, “I'm going to skip the part where I say that doesn't make any sense and instead ask you what you mean by that. So: what do you mean by that?”

  “I mean that Ian could tell you were nervous,” she answered, finally giving in to the urge to look at her betrothed. “So, it doesn't matter that you didn't put it into words. I don't see why you proposed to me if you weren't ready for marriage.”

  “I didn't say that!” the rogue exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at his beloved. “I said prepared! I said I wasn't sure I was prepared for marriage.”

  “Well, that is a huge difference!” Erana quipped, once again gazing straight ahead of her. “I'm sorry I misspoke. I feel
much better now that I know you were ready – you just weren't prepared – when you proposed.”

  “This is insane!” the rogue almost yelled.

  “You think so?” the elvish maid quietly replied.

  “Don't you think it is?” Kilren asked in a more subdued tone of voice.

  “I understand,” Erana replied, tears forming in her bright green eyes. “You thought we were about to die. It was an emotional moment. Honestly, I understand.”

  “What?”

  “We can still be friends,” the maiden said softly, tears running down her face. “I suppose we are rather young anyway.”

  “Whoa!” Kilren said, raising his voice. “Stop right there.”

  The young rogue quickly maneuvered his horse nearer the mount of his love.

  “Look at me,” he said, staring at the profile of the beautiful elvish maid.

  As she refused to turn her head, Kilren reached out and touched her face; turning it slowly toward his own. With his other hand, he gently wiped away her tears.

  “That's not what I meant,” he almost whispered. “That's not what I meant at all.”

  “Then, what did you mean?” the maiden asked, fresh tears welling up in her eyes.

  “I meant that the argument was insane,” he explained. “I love you and I want to marry you.”

  Erana sat in silence for a moment before laughing with relief and wiping the tears from her eyes.

  “I suppose I'm just a little nervous, too,” she said, looking deeply into his eyes.

  “Well, that's perfectly natural,” the rogue replied with a smile.

  “So, you are nervous?” Erana asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

  “Please, let's not start that again now,” he moaned. “Just remember that – no matter what happens – I will always love you. No matter what anyone may say or think, I want you to be my bride.”

  Erana looked at the young rogue with a smile that set his soul aflame. He gently leaned forward to kiss her but, before his lips touched hers, the ranger's hand firmly pushed him back.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, a puzzled look on her face.

  “Well,” he paused for a moment, “I was going to kiss you.”

  “Why?” she asked, shaking her head. “We're already engaged...”

  “Well,” he said, once again pausing for a moment, “I like kissing you.”

  “You'll be able to kiss me whenever you want,” she giggled. “After we're married.”

  Kilren stared into the eyes of his love, hoping to see some sign that would indicate she was simply teasing him. Unfortunately for the young man, however, no such sign was present.

  “Come on,” she smiled, “Ian is so far ahead of us that I can barely see him. We need to catch up.”

  Having said this, she kicked her horse into a trot and sped away from the young rogue.

  “Figures…” Kilren said to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “Elves are completely insane. Completely and totally insane...”

  The little band had made good time, considering they were in no great hurry. They reached the edge of the Neres River with almost an hour of daylight left. They found this crossing easier, and dryer, than their last. The depth of the river had gone down to a more normal level during the preceding days. Of course, on horseback, they were also well above the water. Ian, in particular, was pleased by this arrangement as it kept his finery both clean and dry.

  Not long afterward, they came upon the remains of their previous camp. It had been just over a week since they had spent their last night in the wilderness with all their friends. Ian quickly gathered a small pile of wood and struck up a glowing little blaze. The last lingering rays of the setting sun shot through the clouds above, setting the sky ablaze like a crimson sea.

  “It looks like we're going to have a beautiful day tomorrow,” the rogue observed, staring up into the sky.

  “It looks that way,” the bard agreed with a nod. “Erana dear, could you go gather some herbs? I think I'll cook us up a soup tonight. I have some dried in my saddlebags, but fresh is better.”

  “Of course,” she smiled.

  “Don't be long,” Kilren said, shifting his gaze to the beautiful ranger.

  “I won't,” she replied. “I'd have you come with me, but you wouldn't be able to see.”

  “No,” he chuckled. “Probably not.”

  The elvish maid whistled at Rragor, who immediately plunged into the woodlands behind her; wagging his bushy tail. A few minutes later, the rogue and bard where startled by the sound of Erana yelling their names at some distance away. Immediately, Kilren drew his sword and rushed into the bushes in the direction of her voice; crying her name.

  Ian quickly bent down and took up a stone from the ground before pursuing the running rogue. Kilren dashed through the brush with an urgency that disregarded the fact that he could barely see in the low light. He also dismissed the pleas of the bard who was quickly following behind him, asking him to stop for a moment. The young rogue almost tripped several times as he shot through the undergrowth, but his natural sense of balance kept him on his feet. The increasing volume of Erana's voice told him he was heading in the right direction, but he could see nothing. Suddenly, something attacked him from the darkness. A single blow from the powerful beast knocked Kilren off his feet and struck him nearly unconscious. Within moments, Ian arrived with the rock still clutched in his hand.

  “Why didn't you wait?” the bard asked, panting.

  “She needs our help!” the rogue exclaimed. “Don't worry about me! Get to her! Be careful, something just tried to kill me!”

  In reply, the bard only sang a short tune that the young rogue vaguely recognized. Suddenly, light sprang from the rock in Ian's outstretched hand.

  “I told you don't worry about me!” Kilren yelled. “Get to her!”

  “She's right over there, and she's fine. Oh, and the beast that attacked you was a tree,” the bard observed with a laugh, dropping the rock beside the rogue.

  “Ian, please, hurry,” Erana implored.

  The dwarf stepped quickly to side of the young ranger to find her holding the head of a very injured elf in her lap. Without stopping to think, Ian burst into song once again. This time, it was a much longer tune. Although the words were unfamiliar, they seemed to speak of cool, clear steams, hidden forest glens, and flowers washed by the gentle spring rains. Slowly, the look of pain passed from the face of the elf.

  “Can you speak?” Ian asked.

  “I can,” was his weary reply.

  “What happened?”

  “We were on patrol...” he said before pausing for breath. “There were four of us. I may be the last... Please look for the others... Nearby...”

  Kilren, who had finally gotten to his feet, stood staring down at the unfortunate elf's face.

  “We'd better search for the rest of them,” he said, reaching up toward his very tender brow.

  “Your head's cut,” Erana said, gazing up at the rogue with a look of concern on her face.

  “I'm sure,” he nodded.

  “Are you alright?”

  “I'm alright. Come on, Ian, let's see if we can find the rest of them.”

  With the aid of the light, Kilren was able to quickly follow the trail of blood that led away from the injured elf. A minute's walk led them to a small glen. It was filled with the broken bodies of the elf's former companions. The rogue searched over the area thoroughly and cautiously, sword in hand.

  “Ian,” he said, his eyes focused on a track in the soft earth, “Do you recognize this?”

  “Aye, lad, that I do,” the bard nodded. “It was a troll.”

  “Could a single troll do this much damage?” Kilren asked, his gaze passing from one dead warden to another.

  “It could,” Ian replied thoughtfully. “Depending on its size and age.”

  “Could there be more than one?”

  “It's possible, but not likely. They don't generally hunt together.”
r />   “Do we need to move the camp?”

  “I don't think so,” The bard replied. “Especially as it's already dark. We're just as likely, maybe even more likely, to run into it as it is to stumble upon our camp. Look as these bodies. They've been dead for a few hours at least. That warden was very lucky to have survived.”

  Having discovered what they could, the pair quickly returned to tell Erana.

  “I think he's asleep,” she said as they approached.

  “Something's wrong,” Ian asserted, staring down at the wounded elf. “That song should have had him on his feet. I wish Darian were here. He might be able to do more.”

  “Will he live?” the ranger asked.

  “I think I can keep him alive, but we need to stop at the nearest village for help,” the bard replied. “I'm afraid he's going to need more aid than I can offer.”

  The decision was made to carry him back to camp for the night. There was a chance he would be better in the morning and very little risk that he would be worse. And, of course, they all needed rest. Ian picked the wounded elf up gently and laid him across his shoulders.

  Within minutes, the party was sitting around the little fire with a pot of soup cooking above it. As soon as they were settled, the elf turned her attention to her love.

  “Hold the light up,” Erana insisted, lifting the hand in which Kilren held the glowing stone.

  “What difference does it make?” he said, a hint of frustration in his voice. “You can see in the dark.”

  “No, I can't,” she asserted.

  “Well,” he replied, “you can see in almost no light. That's exactly what we've got here, almost no light. So, you should be able to see it fine.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, “but, I can't see in color in low light. Since I'm looking into a wound, I prefer color. It's helpful to know what's blood and what's flesh.”

  “Ow,” Kilren exclaimed, pulling away from the cloth Erana was using to clean the wound.

  “Don't be a baby,” she grinned. “You'll be fine. Fortunately, it's not very deep.”

  “Well, that's good news,” He said, reaching up once more to feel the bump for himself.

  In less than an hour, the food was cooked and consumed and the party ready for sleep. Under the circumstances, they decided it would be wise to keep watch. Ian volunteered to take the first, followed by Kilren, then Erana. As the rogue and the ranger lay side by side drifting off to sleep, Erana spoke.