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

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  He resumed his search, the box held in his left hand, lifting treasure after treasure to look behind or beneath them.

  “There's that,” he nodded, taking up a slightly larger metal box from another shelf.

  He then stepped over to one of the weapon racks. He selected a scimitar and gave it several swings before looking up at the elvish ranger. After considering her for a moment and judging the weight of the blade, he laid it back down before taking up another. He smiled with a nod and grabbed up the sheath that lay nearby. With these items in hand, he returned.

  He lay the blade and the larger box on a nearby table before approaching Sarena.

  “Dear lady,” he said, opening the small wooden box and presenting her with its contents. “This will enhance the power that you wield and make it far more difficult for your enemies to resist you.”

  Inside, she found a ring of pure gold that was set with a single rectangular ruby.

  “Give his majesty my thanks,” Sarena said, taking up the ring and slipping it on the forefinger of her right hand.

  “I will certainly do so,” the steward answered, “You may thank him yourself tonight at the banquet, if you’d like.”

  Having said this, he took up the metal box. He opened it to reveal a thin gold circlet that would perfectly fit the head of the fair Gwendolyn.

  “It is his majesty's wish that you have this,” he said, lifting the band from its container and placing it gently on the head of the young sorceress. “It will help protect you from harm, my dear.”

  “Thank you very much!” she said.

  “Oh, no need to thank me,” he replied, smiling at her, “King Illfas truly wanted you to have it. Although I readily admit, if it were mine, I would just as happily offer it to you.”

  He then picked up the scimitar, drawing it from its scabbard before handing it to Erana.

  “Your royal cousin felt that you should be better armed against foes that were close at hand,” Calndorn said with a nod.

  “It's magnificent,” was the elvish maiden's simple reply.

  “Now, Master McFaren,” Calndorn began.

  “Ian, if you will, sir,” the bard smiled.

  “You honor me, Master Ian,” the steward said with a slight bow. “If you would come with me.”

  The bard followed the steward to a nearby rack of armor. From it hung a chain shirt of exquisite quality.

  “Due to the dangers you seem destined to constantly encounter,” Calndorn said slowly, “it was his majesty's wish that you be more adequately armored.”

  The bard stood for a moment in total silence, his brows drawn together in thought.

  “If it doesn't meet with your approval, we certainly have other...” the steward began.

  “Oh, no!” Ian exclaimed, “The work is truly exceptional. I could honestly believe that it had been forged by my own people.”

  “That is high praise,” Calndorn smiled.

  “Aye, so it is,” the dwarf agreed, “but it's also the simple truth. No, what I was considering was whether I should wear it over my jacket or underneath it. Obviously it's beautiful work, but...”

  The steward raised his hand.

  “If you would take your example from our king,” he said with a nod, “you would wear it beneath your outer clothing. It is unquestionably fine armor, but it is armor nonetheless.”

  “I think I agree,” the dwarf nodded, lifting the shirt from its rack. “I'll have to thank the king myself.”

  “I'm certain he'll be pleased,” the steward said, leading the dwarf back to the party.

  “Master Kilren,” Calndorn said, turning his attention to the young rogue.

  “Just Kilren,” he replied.

  “As you wish, sir,” the steward nodded. “If you'll follow me, as well.”

  Calndorn stepped over to another rack, quickly followed by the young rogue and his bride-to-be. From it hung a complete set of leather armor just like that worn by the rangers of Innalas.

  “His majesty also wanted to ensure that you were defended,” the steward smiled. “This armor is both flexible and strong. It will serve you well.”

  “It will also really look good on you,” Erana speculated.

  “Yes, dear lady,” the steward replied, a very slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “There's that, as well. At the moment, he does look a bit...”

  “Yes,” she agreed, “he does. You should change into your new armor as quickly as you can.”

  “Alright,” he replied, unfastening one of the buckles on his own worn armor.

  “Perhaps, sir,” Calndorn said, grabbing the young man by the forearm, “it might be best to wait until after I've shown you to your room.”

  “If you like,” the rogue replied.

  “I'll have the armor taken up for you,” he said before heading back to the rest of the party.

  Finally, the steward led the knight and the warrior to another weapon rack. It was filled with finely crafted long spears.

  “These weapons are both light and strong,” he said, lifting one from the rack. “They work equally well as lances or spears. The king wants each of you to have one. You may find them very useful for fighting from horseback.”

  Both Tealor and Darian selected one of the weapons for themselves. Each of them thanked the steward in turn for the gift.

  Having rewarded each member of the party, the steward led them from the chamber and securely locked the door behind him. This duty attended to, Calndorn conducted the band up several flights of stairs in order to reach the guest quarters.

  “You get changed and cleaned up a bit while I go talk to my father,” Erana said, the couple having once again fallen a short distance behind the rest of the party.

  “Cleaned up a bit?” he replied.

  “You know what I mean,” she giggled. “You want to look your best don't you?”

  “Absolutely,” he replied. “So, how do I ask him?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “You just ask him.”

  “So, I just say: Hello, sir. I know you don't know me, but I'd like to marry your daughter if that's alright?” Kilren replied, sweat beginning to bead on his brow.

  “Well, maybe not just like that,” she admitted.

  “Then, just how?”

  “I don't know...” she replied, shaking her head. “Surprisingly enough I've never asked a maiden's father if I could marry her.”

  “Well, it may surprise you to know that I've never done it, either,” the rogue said with a nervous laugh. “I just thought you might have seen it done.”

  “Well, I haven't,” she giggled again. “Either way, just keep it in mind and look for an opening.”

  “An opening?”

  “You know what I mean...”

  By this time, the party had reached their temporary quarters. They had six rooms. Three on one side of the corridor; one for Tealor and his bride, one for Erana, and one for Gwendolyn. The remaining three were for Darian, Kilren, and Ian.

  “Are you alright?” the young Telian asked the rogue as they reached the top of the stairs. “You're covered in sweat.”

  “I'm not covered in sweat!” Kilren exclaimed.

  “Well, there's sweat all over your...”

  “Yes,” the rogue agreed, immediately wiping his face. “Yes, clearly, I'm covered in sweat. I meant to say: I'm not nervous!”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” the knight asked with a puzzled look on his face.

  “Nothing,” the rogue replied, shaking his head. “Nothing. What I meant I meant to say was: I'm not fond of stairs. They're killing me. That's why I'm covered in sweat and why I'm so winded that I can't even think straight.”

  “That makes sense,” the Telian agreed with a nod.

  “Good!” the rogue replied. “Remind me if I ever build a castle that I want everything on the ground floor!”

  “I certainly will!”

  The steward saw each of the party members to their rooms before excusing hi
mself. A light lunch would be brought to their chambers and they would be summoned when it was time for the banquet. Until then, they were free to amuse themselves in whatever way they saw fit. However, the king had sent word to Ian that the court would appreciate being able to enjoy his talents for some time if he felt up to the effort.

  Kilren closed the door behind him. He was glad to have a few minutes alone to prepare himself. He was also glad that someone had thought to leave his window open. If there was one thing he needed right now, it was some air.

  The room in which he stood was elegant and well furnished. A bed that was large, soft, and covered with white silk sheets dominated a corner of the room. Against one of the walls stood a dressing table made of pale wood. Atop this sat a pitcher full of water, a washing bowl, a towel, and a large silver mirror.

  The rogue stepped across the room and took a look at himself.

  “Wow!' he thought. “I am covered in sweat.”

  Having filled the bowl with water, he vigorously washed his face before drying himself thoroughly. He then took several deep breaths of the cool spring air. There was nothing to be nervous about. All he had to do was talk. Talking was one of the areas in life where he was a true master.

  A sudden knock at his chamber door announced that the servant had arrived with his new armor. Minutes later, Kilren was standing in front of the small mirror trying to get a good look at himself. There was no question that the armor was very well made. It fit him perfectly. All things considered, he had to admit that it improved his appearance to some small degree.

  There was nothing left to do but sit on the edge of the bed, remain calm, and wait. Of the three tasks, he managed the waiting. Most of it, however, was done while nervously pacing the floor. Fortunately, he didn't have to endure this for long. A short time later, another soft knock at the door told him the moment had come.

  “Yes,” he said, opening the door to find his betrothed standing on the other side.

  “Kilren?” she replied with a touch of surprise in her voice.

  “Of course,” he said, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind him. “Who else is it likely to be?”

  “You just look,” she began, her eyes studying him carefully, “different. That armor looks really good on you. You even look taller.”

  “I am taller,” he pointed-out, gazing down at his feet. “It's the boots.”

  “Well, I must say it suits you,” the elvish maiden said, taking hold on the rogue's breastplate and drawing him closer. “Let's go talk to my father.”

  The pair turned and headed down the stairs to the next floor.

  “What have you told him about me?” Kilren asked as they approached the large double doors.

  “He basically knows who you are,” she replied. “I told him that we had become really good friends and that he would like you. I didn't want to waste too much time. I figured you could speak for yourself.”

  “Of course I can,” he agreed with more confidence than he felt at the moment.

  “Oh, and one last thing,” she said as she knocked on the door. “Don't get up until he tells you to. That's very important.”

  “Come in,” a voice called out from within the chamber.

  The elvish maiden opened the door and quickly crossed the floor followed by her betrothed. In the center of the room stood two elves. One was clearly the older of the pair and a marked family resemblance made it obvious they were father and son. As soon as the couple reached them, they knelt with their heads bowed, waiting to be acknowledged.

  “Arise, beloved daughter,” the older of the elves said immediately.

  “Thank you, dear father,” Erana replied before standing. “Allow me to introduce you to Kilren, elf friend.”

  “Arise, elf friend,” the maiden's father said.

  “Thank you, sir,” the rogue replied, rising to his feet.

  “Kilren” Erana began, shaking slightly as she spoke, “Allow me to introduce you to Lord Erandal. My father.”

  “It is an honor to meet you, Kilren,” Lord Erandal said, taking the young man by the wrist. “This is my eldest son, Galinral.”

  “It is an honor,” the younger elf said with a bow.

  “The honor is truly mine,” Kilren replied. “Erana has told me a great deal about you, Lord Erandal.”

  “Has she?” the elvish lord asked, a smile on his face.

  “Yes, sir,” the rogue stammered. “She said you were her father.”

  “And, so I am,” he said, his smile widening.

  “And, she told me that you were her brother,” he said, turning his gaze to the younger of the pair.

  “Again, that's quite true,” Galinral replied with a wide smile on his own face. “It seems my sister has been a regular fount of information.”

  “Oh, she has been,” the rogue nodded. “Let's see... ummm... there are seven of you in all. I mean; not including you Lord Erandal or your lovely wife. Not, not that I've seen her of course, but I'm sure that she is lovely.”

  “Yes,” the elvish lord replied quite seriously, “she is.”

  At this, Galinral had to bite his bottom lip.

  “Well,” Kilren sighed. “That's really about all I can remember right now. What has she told you about me?”

  “Very little,” Lord Erandal, replied nodding slowly.

  “Oh sure,” the rogue agreed. “I'm sure. I mean we only met... What? Maybe three weeks...”

  “About three weeks...” Erana agreed.

  “Yeah,” he continued. “About three weeks ago. We met right around then I guess. And then, of course, ummm, she wasn't home... I mean for the three weeks.”

  “No,” the elvish Lord agreed.

  “And so,” the rogue stammered, “so really how could she have told you anything about me? I mean; because she hasn't really been home at all... Since she met me, I mean... Has she?”

  “No,” Lord Erandal replied.

  “Perhaps you would like to tell us a bit about yourself,” Galinral suggested. “We have most of the morning and afternoon. I'm sure I would enjoy hearing about my youngest sister's exploits.”

  “Thank you, dear brother!” Erana sighed. “That is an excellent idea.”

  The four stepped over to a number of large and comfortable chairs that sat in one corner of the room. Each took a seat and Lord Erandal ordered some refreshments.

  “So, how did you two meet, Kilren?” Galinral asked, shifting his smiling gaze from his sister to the young rogue.

  “Well, in all honesty, it is a story worth the hearing,” Kilren answered with a tone of self-assurance finally fighting its way into his voice.

  Recounting a tale that was so filled with his own exploits, his own tenacity, and his own courage steadily replenished the young man's confidence. Seeing the looks of concern, excitement, and even fear on the faces of his audience brought out the true story teller in him.

  It was with a certain lack of embarrassing details that he told of his first encounter with the noble Telian. He then went on to describe their joining forces with Erana, Tealor, and Sarena, and their tireless pursuit of Gwendolyn's kidnappers. With flare and flourish, he told them of the first time he had saved the elvish ranger's life, even acting out sections of the tale as he spoke. He praised the bagpipes of the illustrious bard, assuring the father and son that they had never heard anything sweeter.

  Kilren was the unquestioned hero of The Battle of Neres Bridge as countless foes fell to his flawless aim. It also seemed that it was during the aftermath of that conflict that he first extolled the virtues of mercy to the young Telian. Erana had to admit, at least to herself, that some of the details of the rogue's tale weren't exactly as she remembered them. For one thing, she certainly couldn't recall his charging across the bridge to knock a fully armored, ax wielding knight from the back of his warhorse using only the butt of his crossbow... However, as she beheld the seemingly spellbound faces of her father and brother, she had to confess: Kilren was on fire.

&
nbsp; Feigned cries of pain and detailed descriptions of agony accompanied the story of his being shot in the shoulder. Standing on one foot, he showed them how he cocked his crossbow with one arm, just in time to save the life of the rather hapless Darian. He then told the pair how Ian and Erana each had to use both hands the rip the bolt from his body. With the utmost detail, he recounted the anguish of having it torn from his flesh.

  “But, what could I do?” he asked, raising his hand with a dramatic pause. “There was nothing to do but soldier on! The others were depending on me!”

  His narrative ran on in the much the same vein as he told of befriending Rragor and rescuing the people of Olinnor. Arguably, the fair maiden's favorite part of the tale was when Kilren leapt from behind a rock taking the dragon Baldorin completely by surprise. Apparently, he demanded that the monster state his intentions or face the wrath of the valiant rogue. Although no pen and paper were at hand, Erana was determined to remember every detail of Kilren's version of the story. She hoped, one day, to tell it to their children. It was a good deal more amazing than what had actually happened.

  When his story reached the village of Earlin, however, it took a dramatic turn. The young Telian took center stage as every unwed elvish maiden in the vicinity threw themselves one after another at the feet of the bashful knight.

  “Well,” Kilren began with a knowing nod. “Obviously, I knew he looked a little ridiculous. All those young ladies fawning all over him, and him gawking like he'd never seen a woman before. Of course, I didn't have the heart to tell him. I figured, at least in this case, that ignorance really was bliss.”

  At this observation, Kilren, along with Erana's father and brother, burst out laughing.

  After this, the rogue became very serious. He recounted the party's fording the river only to be caught between two irresistible forces.

  “I was sure we were dead,” he said with a sigh. “The only thing that could save us were the Eilian themselves. I figured I’d better make the most of the time I had left. When you believe the remainder of your life can be measured off in minutes, you do your best to make every second count. So... I took your daughter in my arms and I kissed her.”