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

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  “I didn't know that, actually!” Gwendolyn said excitedly. “Will you be able to learn to?”

  “I hope so,” the ranger nodded. “But, it takes time. My training hasn't reached that stage yet.”

  “How does it work?” the maiden asked. “Is it like wizards where you have to study ancient tomes and arcane secrets, or is it more like we sorceresses, where you just learn to do it almost by instinct.”

  “Actually,” Erana replied, “it's more like the priests and the Telian. We offer prayers to Selvios and he gives us the knowledge we need to use magic. I don't know exactly how it works yet, of course, but I know the power comes from Selvios; the Eilian of the elves.”

  “Can rangers heal?”

  “They can,” the elvish maiden answered.

  “That's what I really want to learn to do,” Gwendolyn sighed. “It's just not Sarena's area of expertise, if you know what I mean. When we get back to the fortress we're planning to do some more research. Ian said that he's heard of sorceresses that were healers, but he couldn't remember the specifics.”

  “Maybe you should talk to Darian about it,” Erana suggested. “He certainly seems to know a lot about healing.”

  “He does,” the maiden agreed, “but it's different because he uses the divine power. Really, you ought to talk to him. I'm sure he knows all about Selvios.”

  “You may be right,” the ranger agreed. “I should have thought of that before.”

  “It looks like you've got a little more time to get yourself prepared,” Ian said, smiling at his young friend.

  “Ugh,” Kilren replied. “Don't say that word to me in any context. I can't believe I said it. Normally I'm pretty quick on my feet when it comes to the delicate art of communication.”

  “Oh, I agree, lad,” the bard nodded. “It's just unfortunate that your quick feet both ended up in your mouth this time.”

  “Very unfortunate,” the rogue agreed. “Maybe if I don't mention it again, she won't either.”

  “You can always hope,” Ian chuckled.

  “That reminds me,” Kilren said, turning his gaze to the bard, “I need to ask you about a few things.”

  “That's excellent,” the dwarf replied. “It's good to see that at least some of my wisdom is beginning to rub off on you. What would you like to know?”

  “Well, first off,” the rogue began, “what's with kissing?”

  “I'd have thought you were old enough to know about that,” Ian replied with a slight grin on his face. “However, if you feel you need...”

  “You know what I mean!” the rogue cut it. “What's with elves and kissing? I give the girl a kiss and suddenly I'm engaged! I mean, okay, I'm very glad I am and all that... but... ahem... still, you have to admit that it's a little unexpected. Then, I go to kiss her again and it's all No! No! None of that 'till we're married! It's mind blowing...”

  “It's not,” the bard replied, “if you know anything about elvish culture.”

  “Apparently, I don't!” Kilren asserted.

  “Oh, I think I can safely agree with that,” Ian replied, chuckling to himself again. “That needs to change. You need to learn more about her people and, in time, she needs to learn about yours.”

  “Okay,” the rogue nodded. “Teach me something.”

  “Well, since you brought it up,” Ian began, “we'll start with kissing. Keep in mind, I'm going to give you a very simplified version from a dwarvish point of view. I'm sure you'll learn much more from Erana than I'll ever be able to teach you. But, I should at least be able to keep you from making a fool of yourself. Well... too much of a fool.”

  “Just get on with it,” the rogue replied, shaking his head.

  “Yes,” the bard replied, clearing his throat. “Well, elves believe that life is contained in the blood and in the breath. In a very real way, they're right. That's the reason they often refer to each other by family ties, even if they're not actually members of the same family. I'm sure you've noticed that they use the words brother, sister, father, etc, as a way to express their common ties as elves rather than as a specific and accurate reference to a particular family bond.”

  “Uhhh,” the rogue groaned, “focus, Ian! I want to know about kissing. Remember?”

  “I know, lad,” the bard said, chuckling yet again at his friend's impatience. “You need to understand that this is all connected. Blood binds lives together from birth and nothing can alter those bonds. However, your breath is your own to share – or not – as you decide. Over time the exchange of breath took the form of kissing. I could explain why, but I don't want to tax your obviously limited attention span.”

  “Thank you!” the rogue interjected.

  “Well,” the bard continued, “when elves kiss, it's a way of intertwining their lives. Under normal circumstances, a couple will offer each other subtle signs during courtship until the male feels he's received enough encouragement to propose. He does this by kissing her. Their first kiss is a request for her to share her life with him. If she stops him – by word or by deed – she's rejected his offer. Now, in your case, she didn't exactly give you any of the signs – or maybe she did and you just didn't know what to look for. Either way, when you kissed her, she didn't reject you. You asked her to share her life with you and she accepted.”

  “Which brings us to why I can't kiss her now!” Kilren said, pointing into the air.

  “Yes,” Ian laughed, “it does. You've asked and she's answered. However, that's only the first step. Before she can share her life with you, she has to get her father's permission; which almost amounts to getting her entire family's permission. Once that's done, you'll have to go through an official engagement period. Once that's completed, you'll be wed. After that, she will share everything she is with you. I feel confident you'll find it worth the wait.”

  “I'm sure I will,” Kilren sighed. “I guess that does explain about the kissing... So, how should I act when I meet her father?”

  “Well,” Ian replied, scratching himself under the beard, “normally I would tell you to just be yourself, but that's probably bad advice in your case.”

  As the bard said this, he shot a sideways glance at his companion.

  “Yes, yes,” the rogue laughed. “Do you have any real advice or not?”

  “In truth, I do, lad,” he answered. “First of all, listen to your bride-to-be. I don't know her father but, like all fathers, he's bound to have his own idiosyncrasies when it comes to dealing with the man his daughter wants to marry. Erana will be able to help you handle him. So, trust her and pay attention to any advice she offers. Of course, you also have to be yourself. Her father isn't likely to trust you if you seem too perfect. He's not likely to respect you if you look like you have no will of your own. So, you have to strike a balance between following her advice and handling things your way.”

  “So,” Kilren said, shaking his head, “I should do what Erana suggests, unless I shouldn't. Well, that is helpful!”

  “It may seem confusing now,” Ian admitted, “but, you have good instincts. Just follow them. After all, that's how you ended up engaged in the first place.”

  “I guess you're right,” the rogue admitted. “Any other advice?”

  “Always be respectful,” the bard said firmly. “No matter what he says to you or about you, always be respectful. As far as I can tell, he genuinely respects and even likes humans. In fact, I believe that's why he sent his daughter toward Mikral for her final trail. He wanted her to learn to respect humans as he does. However, there's a grand difference between respecting a man and allowing him to marry your daughter. In truth, I suspect it may prove a little difficult for you to get his permission.”

  “Well, he'll give us permission or we'll marry without it,” Kilren asserted.

  “I admire your determination, lad,” Ian nodded, “but, whatever you do, don't ever say that to Erana. And, under no circumstances, should you ever say it to her father.”

  “Why not?” the rogue asked. �
��I've asked her and she's said yes. Obviously, I would prefer to get her family's blessing, but if we can't....”

  “Wait, lad,” the bard interrupted. “At the moment, he hasn't said no. So, there's no reason for you to start drawing up battle plans. You also need to know that going against her father's will would be extremely painful for Erana. Family means a great deal to elves and, if you love her, then you need to learn to love them as well. That being the case, you're not going to want to do anything to hurt them. So, what you need to focus on is getting his blessing. Remember that I, not to mention Erana, am going to do everything I can to help you.”

  “You're right,” Kilren admitted. “Maybe I am a little nervous...”

  “Anyway, I thought you'd be happy to have a little extra time to get prepared,” Ian grinned.

  “Very funny,” the rogue replied with a look of mock disdain on his face.

  “I'm curious,” the large warrior said, turning his attention to the young Telian at his side. “Why did you decide to bring the refugees with us?”

  “Do you disagree?” the young knight asked.

  “No,” Tealor replied, “not at all. It's exactly what I would have done. However, I'm just curious as to what motivated your decision.”

  “Well,” Darian said thoughtfully, “I supposed it's because this choice allows us to have the most influence on the outcome. I couldn't simply abandon them or send them off in some random direction to face their fate alone.”

  “That's an interesting choice of words,” the captain observed. “Not all that long ago, you put a great deal of stock in fate.”

  “I did,” the Telian agreed. “I've thought a great deal about it since our last discussion. I still feel that certain things are fated to be. I honestly don't think that fact can be denied. Andor knew before I was born that I would be a Telian. He read it in the stars because it was fated to be. But, the villagers of Dalfaen weren't fated to be murdered by an army of trolls. These survivors aren't bound by fate. If they're going to survive, we need to help them; not just trust to providence.”

  “I couldn't agree more,” the warrior said. “I'm glad it's the choice you made. Of course, now we have to decide what we want to do next.”

  “What do you suggest?” the knight asked.

  “We need to get as far north as we can today,” Tealor asserted. “We won't be able to reach a village before nightfall, which is unfortunate, but I feel we need to head toward the capital quickly. Which means traveling due north. Erana said we should be able to reach the next hamlet by tomorrow afternoon, even at our current pace. Eilian willing, we'll find help there. As soon as the refugees are taken care of, we need to get word to King Illfas. That has to be done as quickly as possible. This delay may have already cost lives.”

  “I agree,” the Telian replied. “We'll just keep moving until the light starts to fail, then we'll stop for the night.”

  Shortly after the sun sank below the horizon, Tealor called the band to a halt. A large fire was quickly kindled and soon the smell of cooking food filled the air. The party had been wise enough to bring provisions with them from Dalfaen. They couldn't be absolutely certain that the next town they reached would be intact. With no idea where their enemies were, or where they were heading, it was best to prepare for the worst.

  Ian felt that it would be unwise to risk music at the moment. Instead, he sat by the fireside; quietly telling stories of Innalas. He spoke of the land's powerful kings and its valiant people. He told of its very beginnings and praised warriors of the past who fought for glory and honor. For hours, the refugees sat in awed silence as they were told their own history by the melodious voice of the dwarvish bard. Even Erana sat, seemingly spellbound, with her betrothed by her side.

  For his part, Kilren was listening attentively. Soon, these people – the people of Innalas – would be his people. He thought it would be a good idea to try to learn something of their history. Of course, he had never paid much attention to the history of his own people, but that was mainly because he couldn't imagine any of it ever being of any practical use.

  As he sat considering this fact, Ian said something that brought his mind back to the present. Apparently, long ago, a princess of Innalas had fallen in love with a human and the two were wed. The couple weren't the focus of the bard's current tale, but Kilren made a mental note to ask the dwarf about it later. That bit of history just might prove useful.

  Something in the darkness attracted the rogue's attention. He peered into the night to see Darian, his sword held in both hands by the blade, drawing symbols on the ground.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Shhh,” Ian instantly replied. “He's sanctifying the ground.”

  “I've never seen him do that before,” the rogue replied.

  “Perhaps he never felt the situation justified it before,” the bard suggested. “Either way, he's doing it now and we shouldn't break his concentration.”

  “What exactly does it do?” Kilren asked with one eyebrow slightly raised.

  “Good things,” Ian answered. “Does it matter exactly what?”

  “I guess not,” the rogue admitted.

  This interruption shifted the bard's attention to the subject of Telian knights. For the rest of the evening, he told stories of those who had come to the aid of Innalas in former times of trouble. As the refugees sat and listened to the dwarf it became clear that they had forgotten their troubles – for the time being, at least. One by one, they fell into the gentle arms of deep and peaceful sleep.

  Chapter 4: A Long Road

  One uneventful watch followed another as the evening hours passed away. Though the surrounding woodlands had been filled with strange, and even alarming sounds, no beast attempted to invade the sanctified ground on which the party rested. As the first rays of sun shattered the darkness of night, the band quickly prepared to depart. They had far to travel and couldn't even be certain that their current destination would be there when they arrived.

  Riding side by side, Darian and Tealor led the small group of refugees away from the camp; continuing their flight to the north. Once again, scouts were dispatched to ensure that the band didn't run headlong into any unexpected – and unwelcome – encounters. There was no way of knowing where the enemy was and, therefore, no sure way of avoiding them. All they could do for the moment was follow the path ahead and pray they found their road an open one.

  For more than an hour, the band traveled along without hindrance or interruption. This changed, however, shortly after passing through a crossroads. Kilren and Ian, who marched along a short distance ahead of the rest of the band, found the remains of several wargs and two unfortunate wardens. After a brief exchange between the pair, the bard returned to hurry their companions along while the rogue remained behind examining the area.

  Darian and Tealor arrived just minutes later, along with Ian (who had accepted the Telian's offer of a ride).

  “What have you discovered?” the warrior asked.

  “Several things,” Kilren replied. “First, I believe there were nearly twenty elves here when these wargs were slaughtered. My guess is that they were all wardens as well, because they managed to kill five of the things. Which I imagine is no easy task...”

  “That it isn't, lad,” Ian agreed, dropping from the back of the knight's horse.

  “Right,” the rogue nodded. “Either way, you can check the tracks yourself, but it seems to me there were close to twenty here. So, obviously, most of them survived the encounter. Also, as far as I can tell, this happened less than an hour ago...”

  “How can you tell that?” the Telian asked.

  In response, Kilren walked over to one of the dead wargs; placing his hand under its foreleg, against the beast's ribcage.

  “Still warm,” he replied before wagging the animal's leg around wildly. “And, of course, they're not stiff yet.”

  “I see,” the young knight replied, genuinely impressed.

  “This cha
nges things a bit,” Tealor said thoughtfully.

  “I agree,” Ian nodded.

  “How?” Darian asked.

  “Think about it, lad,” the bard replied. “Before, we couldn't be sure that the enemy was in the area. Now, we know that they are or, at the very least, that they were. We also couldn't be sure when, or even if, we'd run into any of the king's forces. Well, now we have. There were a group of them here less than an hour ago. We need to focus on finding them. We'll be able to exchange information and possibly even help each other reach safety.”

  “What do you suggest, Captain?” the young Telian asked.

  “First, we need to send the scouts out to see if they can find these wardens,” he replied. “They’ll need to be very cautious. They're just as likely to run up on our enemies as our allies.”

  “You're right about that,” the bard agreed.

  “Also, we need to stop here for the moment,” the warrior continued. “Our limited forces are going to be far too spread out to face an attack. Plus, we're more likely to run up on trolls during this time of day than they are to run up on us.”

  “Why is that?” Darian asked.

  “Trolls are primarily nocturnal,” Kilren answered. “At least, that's what I've heard. About normal trolls, that is. Of course, it was around this time yesterday when we were attacked.”

  “I believe it's a little later,” Ian observed. “You are right about trolls, though. Under normal circumstances, they're nocturnal. My guess is that the later it gets in the day, the more likely it is they'll be asleep.”

  “Still,” the knight said thoughtfully, “we can't be sure of that. If at all possible, we need to reach a village by tonight.”

  “That's true,” the warrior replied, “but, I think we could safely risk an hour.”

  “Alright,” Darian nodded, “let's do it.”

  “Good,” Tealor said. “Kilren, go get Erana and tell her our plan. I want you two to head east and let the scouts on that side know what's going on. Ian, I want you to head west and try to find our scouts there.”