“I believe, my love, that I should go with him,” Sarena interjected, having just strode within earshot. “These trolls may be somewhat resistant to my magic, but I feel certain I could still be of help to our illustrious bard should he encounter one.”
“Very well, dear heart,” the warrior agreed. “Be cautious.”
“Always,” she said, a wide smile spreading across her dark red lips.
“Darian, you and I need to build a fire.” the captain asserted.
“Alright,” the young knight said with a confused look on his face, “but, I doubt it's going to get very cold or very dark before we move on.”
“No,” Tealor chuckled, “that isn't very likely. However, even though we know these trolls are resistant to magical flames, they may not be to simple burning wood.”
“Well, if they can stop magical fire...” the rogue began.
“It doesn't work that way, sweet fool,” Sarena interrupted. “The runes that defend these beasts from me, might well prove powerless against the normal forces of nature. We can't be certain until we've tested it.”
“Sweet fool?” the rogue laughed. “You haven't called me that in days.”
“No,” she sighed, “but, it seemed to suit you at the moment.”
Immediately Ian and Sarena turned and began marching into the woodlands to the west while Kilren dashed southward in search of his bride-to-be. Darian and Tealor climbed quickly from their mounts and began to build a fire. There was no time to waste.
Within minutes, the handsome rogue stood panting at the side of the fair elvish ranger. He quickly related his news and the decision was made to escort the young sorceress to safety before making their way east. With this detail attended to, the couple – escorted by Rragor – plunged into the woodlands. The scouts generally reported in every hour or so and it was Kilren's hope that they would meet them as they were heading back toward the warrior and the knight.
This hope was fulfilled in very short order. Kilren had decided to follow the path that led from the crossroads to the east. It was his thought that, if the scouts stumbled on the road – and it seemed probable that they would – they might use it to make their way back to the rest of the band. His instincts proved insightful and, after traveling less than half-a-mile, they ran into the two wardens who had been scouting the eastern flank.
The two groups quickly exchanged information and the decision was made for the wardens to head north-east while Kilren and Erana continued to follow the road. The scouts had only come across it about a mile ahead and it was possible that the group they were looking for was further to the east. They quickly parted company; each hoping to find some sign that would lead them to those they sought.
“I've been thinking about Darian,” the elvish maiden said in hushed tones as they passed along.
“I try not to do that too much,” the rogue whispered, shaking his head. “It gives me a headache for some reason. I still can't believe he took his gauntlets off in the middle of...”
“That's not what I mean,” she interrupted. “I've just been thinking that he's one of the best friends you're ever likely to have.”
“Ever likely to have?”
“I mean,” Erana giggled, “that it's hard to find a better friend than a Telian Knight. Especially one as noble as Darian.”
“Well, that's true,” Kilren agreed. “Of course, Tealor and Ian are great, not to mention Sarena and Gwendolyn.”
“Oh, of course!” the maiden replied. “They're all wonderful. But, Sarena and Gwendolyn are girls...”
“Are they?” the rogue interjected. “I'll have to pay more attention the next time we're all together.”
“I think Ian and Tealor are just a little on the old side,” she continued, ignoring the rogue's sarcasm. “I mean: for this. Obviously, they're not old, they're just a good bit older than we are.”
“On the old side for what?” Kilren asked, gazing at his love from the corners of his eyes.
“To be your best man, of course” she smiled.
“Do you think we should really be talking about this right now?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
“Well, if you don't feel prepared to talk about it...”
The undue and, in Kilren's opinion, unjustified emphasis the maiden put on the word prepared warned him to tread lightly. It was a warning he took very seriously.
“Oh, I'm more than prepared,” he exclaimed as loudly as he dared under the circumstances. “I'm excited! It's just that I thought we might want to wait until we’ve found what we're looking for, that's all.”
“Well, it's not distracting me,” she said, “if it's not distracting you.”
“No, no,” he shook his head. “It's not.”
“Good,” she smiled. “So, what do think?”
“I think it's a great idea,” Kilren nodded. “Darian would make a perfect best man.”
“Maybe Gwendolyn could be the maiden of honor,” she suggested.
“Certainly,” he agreed. “That seems reasonable.”
“I was also thinking about Ian,” she began. “I mean: he's already been a great help to us and he was willing to come all this way just to help you with my father.”
“I've got no problem with that,” the rogue said, nodding, “I can't think of anyone I'd rather have be best dwarf. Or, will he be your dwarf of honor?”
“That's not what I mean,” she giggled again. “I mean: I think he should be the godfather.”
“The godfather?” Kilren asked, raising his voice more than he intended to.
“In time, of course,” the maiden replied with a blush tinting her lovely features. “We might as well ask him now.”
“Sure,” the rogue replied, his breathing somewhat quick and shallow. “You're right, we might as well.”
“You don't object, do you?” Erana asked with a hint of concern in her voice.
“Oh no,” Kilren answered while slowly getting his breathing under control. “No, not at all. I really feel that Ian is... is almost like my... my uncle... if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” she nodded, “I feel the same way about him. So, we agree then. We'll ask Ian to be the godfather.”
“Godfather,” the rogue replied with a swallow. “Yes, absolutely. We'll ask Ian to be the.... to be the godfather...”
“Are you alright?” the maiden asked. “You're covered in sweat.”
The sound of a howling warg ripped through the air before the rogue could answer his betrothed. This was quickly followed by another, along with the sounds of yelling elvish voices. The couple flew in the direction of the noise and, within moments, found themselves in a clearing filled with elves.
Close to forty wardens stood shoulder to shoulder; firing arrows into a small pack of wargs that were racing toward them. Before the pair could reach the scene of conflict, the animals lay dead near the ranks of their victorious foes. It seemed they had found the aid they were in search of.
Ian and Sarena sped through the shades of the forest. The dwarf felt confident that they would quickly find the scouts they sought. They shouldn't be too far out and, by this time, they were likely already making their way back to report in. Still, there was a great deal of territory to cover and they could easily miss each other in the relative wilderness. In order to lessen the chances of this happening, the bard began to make very audible bird calls. They were perfect in all but one respect; they were the calls of birds that never frequented the land of Innalas.
Shortly after Ian began, he heard similar replies from a short distance away. Moments later, the scouts they were searching for appeared from the surrounding trees and approached them. The pair had seen nothing – either of enemies or allies. They would report back to camp before striking north. For their part, the bard and sorceress would head north-west.
“I have to admit, Ian,” the sorceress said as the pair marched along. “I find this situation rather puzzling.”
“That it is, dear lady,” Ian agree
d.
“In truth, I'm afraid the situation may even be dire,” she replied. “These rune-covered trolls are obviously a concern, but there's even more to it than that. Have you ever heard of trolls attacking in groups like this?”
“I believe I have,” the bard replied thoughtfully, removing his hat to wipe his brow. “However, I can't bring the tale to mind at the moment.”
“The fact that they're also fighting alongside wargs makes it even more disturbing,” she asserted. “It almost seems to me as if they're an army.”
“I think army may be a bit of a stretch,” Ian replied. “But, I take your point. Large groups of wargs and trolls wandering the countryside together is certainly a legitimate source of concern.”
“I'm also not sure that these attacks aren't random.”
“Well, we don't have enough evidence yet to know for certain,” the bard observed.
“That may be true,” she ceded. “However, I very much doubt that whomever went to the incredible effort it would require to force these beasts to work together did so for no reason.”
At this, Ian snapped his fingers.
“Of course!” he exclaimed, slapping his brow. “Tyllas!”
“I fear, master bard, that I miss your meaning.”
“Tyllas, my dear. The wizard, Tyllas,” the dwarf chuckled.
“You feel he may be responsible for this?” the sorceress asked, a slight smile gracing her mouth.
“Oh no, my dear. No, no,” Ian replied. “He's been dead... oh... nearly a thousand years now. He was finally defeated by a pair of brothers. Both were Telian knights which, as you know, is incredibly rare. You see...”
“My good Ian,” she interrupted, “perhaps, for the moment, it would be best to confine our study of history to the current situation.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” the bard agreed. “My point is that Tyllas was able to control animals; even those of a very monstrous nature. According to a number ancient works, including Galkan's Definitive History of Areon – which is roughly eight hundred years old and considered by many...”
“Ian,” the sorceress again interrupted.
“Sorry,” the dwarf said before continuing. “According to history, Tyllas had a special connection to animals from a very young age. He began to study magic in his teens and quickly became a very powerful wizard. He attempted to overthrow his homeland by turning the animals of the kingdom against the populace. One of the foundations of his success was raising an army of trolls and other, less powerful, creatures.”
“That certainly seems to fit what we're seeing here,” the lady observed.
“Indeed, it does,” the bard agreed. “It reminds me of something else; something more recent. But, I can't seem to remember exactly what it is. I'll have to give it a bit of thought over a pipe tonight.”
“That seems like a wise course, master dwarf.”
The pair had been slowly making their way up a rather steep, tree covered hill during this brief and hushed conversation. As they reached its crest, they fell completely silent. Before them, filling a small valley, was an army of sleeping trolls. The massive creatures lay sprawled out on the forest floor like a carpet of leathery green flesh. A quick glance revealed that there were at least thirty of them, perhaps more, occupying the valley. Many of them were also covered in faintly glowing tattoo marks.
Instinctively, the two turned and made their way quickly and silently away from the hill. As soon as they were out of earshot, the pair broke into a run. It was imperative that they inform their companions as quickly as possible. By the time those sleeping monsters woke, the party – and the refugees they were escorting – needed to be many, many miles away.
“Well,” the bard said, panting as the pair paused for breath, “I have to admit; it's worse than I thought.”
“Still, Master Ian,” the sorceress replied between her own gasps, “I believe we can be well out of their path before they're on the move again.”
“That's certainly true, dear lady,” Ian agreed. “But, I wonder how many more packs like that there are wondering throughout Innalas.”
“You're right, of course,” the sorceress nodded. “In retrospect, I believe it would have been better had Lord Andor accompanied us, after all.”
“You'll get no argument from me,” the bard agreed.
Having taken a few moments to catch their breath, they again resumed their flight. The sooner they could get the party moving again, the better. It was impossible to tell how many enemies surrounded them or just how far they would have to go before they reached safety.
“We found them!” both Ian and Kilren yelled simultaneously.
Both groups had returned to the temporary camp at the same moment.
“That's excellent!” the young rogue said.
“I hardly agree,” the bard replied.
“Well, perhaps not excellent,” Kilren conceded. “But, it's a lot better than nothing.”
“I suppose that's true,” Ian admitted. “At least we know where they are.”
“How long before they get here?” the rogue asked.
“They may not. Even if they do, it won't be until this evening,” the dwarf assured him.
“What? Did you speak to them?” Kilren asked with a touch of surprise in his voice.
“Are you mad?” Ian asked. “Why would we do that?”
“Oh, I don't know! Maybe because...”
“Wait,” Tealor interrupted, shaking his head. “What have you found?”
The pair answered in unison.
“Wardens.”
“Trolls.”
“What?!” both the bard and rogue exclaimed.
“So, Ian,” the warrior began, “you found trolls? And, Kilren, you found the wardens?”
“Yes!” the two answered.
“Wait,” Ian said, raising his hand. “Kilren, talk.”
“Erana and I found the wardens,” the rogue replied. “Well, some of them. It seems there are even more in the area, however. Close to sixty of them are near at hand, so I don't think we have much to worry about now.”
“That's where you're wrong, lad,” Ian said, shaking his head. “Sarena and I almost walked up on a pack of at least thirty sleeping trolls.”
“Thirty!” Kilren exclaimed.
“At least,” the bard nodded.
“Mmmm,” the rogue hummed. “That is bad.”
“So, we need to get moving as fast as we can,” Ian pointed out.
“I agree,” Darian said. “Kilren, how long before the wardens can join us?”
“An hour,” the rogue answered. “Maybe less.”
“Then, we should go ahead and get everyone moving again,” he nodded. “The wardens will be able to catch us up fairly quickly. I don't think it would be wise to wait.”
“We should leave Kilren and Erana here to let the wardens know where we've gone,” Tealor pointed out. “I doubt there'll be much danger and you and I can leave them our horses.”
“That's a good idea,” the knight nodded.
“One horse will be plenty,” Kilren replied with a sly smile on his face.
“No,” the captain replied. “If you have to flee, you'll each need a mount. Especially if you're trying to outrun wargs.”
“I'm sure...” the young rogue began before he was interrupted.
“They're right, Kilren,” Erana nodded. “If we end up facing dire wolves, we don't want to be sharing a horse.”
“Figures...” Kilren observed under his breath.
Minutes later, the band of refugees was once again heading north. Two of the wardens who were already in the company took up a scouting position a short distance ahead of the party. The warrior and his bride led the group with the Telian only steps behind. Ian, who was presently deprived of his pony, marched alongside the fair young Gwendolyn.
It would be hours before they reached the nearest village and they still had no idea whether they would find it occupied. Fortunately, their band was growing in size.
Once the other wardens joined them, they would be almost a hundred strong. They couldn't hope to face thirty trolls with such a force, but there was safety in numbers nonetheless. Perhaps they would be able to find even more allies between here and the capital – even if the lands that separated them from their destination were currently filled with dangers.
“Darian said you wanted to borrow a book about gallantry,” the bard said suddenly as the pair marched along. “Unfortunately, I don't have one with me, but I should be able to get you several given time. Although, I admit, I'm bit curious as to why you want them, my dear.”
“Actually, it was for Darian,” the maiden replied with a slight blush.
“Oh,” Ian said, “I thought he said it was for you.”
“Well, he did ask for me,” she explained. “But, I wanted him to read it.”
“Why was that, lass?”
“Darian's...” here, the maiden paused, rolling her eyes, “not very observant. I guess that's the best way to put it...”
“Ah, I see,” the dwarf chuckled. “Well, I don't think you have anything to worry about there, my dear. I have a feeling he'll get more and more observant as time goes by. Right now, being a knight is still very new to him. It's all his head has room for.”
“I don't know,” she sighed. “There are times I get the feeling he's got more than enough room in his head.”
The bard laughed heartily at this observation.
“It may seem that way now,” the bard nodded, “but, Mother Nature will catch up with him someday soon.”
“Maybe...” she said sighing once again. “Either way, I had something else I wanted to ask you about.”
“Ask away, my dear, it looks as if we have plenty of time.”
Having made this observation, he drew his pipe from one of the many pockets in his coat.
“Have you found out any more about sorcerers that could heal?” the maiden asked.
“That, I have not,” the bard replied, filling the bowl of his pipe. “However, I have spent some time seriously considering the question. Now, we know that some sorcerers of the past have been able to heal. That's simply a historical fact. What we don't know is whether there are any alive today who can do it – and who might be able to teach you to do it.”
The Beasts of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 2) Page 8
