“That's noble of you,” the knight smiled. “But it's not just a shadow. The royal family lives. They're in hiding, but once they make themselves known, they'll have the support of their people.”
“I hope you're right,” the warrior sighed, “I just find it hard to believe because nothing like that has ever happened in the whole history of Areon.”
“Oh, I wouldn't say that,” Ian disagreed.
He had ridden up quietly behind the pair, who had been too engrossed in conversation to notice him until he spoke.
“No,” he continued, “I wouldn't say that at all.”
“So, it has happened before?” Tealor asked.
“If by that,” the bard began, “you mean Has a royal family in exile ever returned to their currently non-existent kingdom and managed to rebuild it? then the answer is: yes, that has happened before.”
“When?”
“Many times, my friend,” Ian replied with a knowing wink. “The history of Areon is long. And even more remarkable things than that have happened. However, to grab an example from more recent history: The Caldreon family ruled a distant kingdom a little over three hundred years ago. The king's eldest son and heir was the child of the king's first wife who died very young. He went on to have seven other sons by a second wife. When the king died, the oldest son's brothers united against him and, with the help of many of the nobles, drove him into exile. He returned twenty years later to lead a very unhappy people in a civil war against their treacherous rulers and become king. His dynasty lasted for more than a hundred years after that.”
“Well, the people of Mikral aren't all that unhappy,” Tealor pointed out.
“My point was that similar things have happened before,” Ian replied. “Trust Andor. For my part, I'm certain he has a plan.”
The next few days were filled with nothing more than endless marching and roadside conversations. The army had far to go before it arrived at the badlands and its commanders were determined to reach the border as quickly as possible. The lives of their people hung in the balance and well they knew it.
In the main, the party found these days enjoyable ones. Kilren and Erana, with the constant encouragement of Galinral, had come to the conclusion that their eventual engagement was a certainty. Tealor and his bride enjoyed the sights and sounds that surrounded them without showing the least concern for the dangers they would soon face. Ian made use of the time to meet, and entertain, many of the elvish nobles that he had, until this journey, known by name only. Darian and Gwendolyn spent a good deal of time together, the maiden constantly praising the virtue of gallantry and the importance of family lines to the young knight. Even Rragor enjoyed himself thoroughly; a happy mistress, a full stomach, and ever changing smells filled him with a joy that few wolves ever feel. Kilren also used this time to continue his training with the blade every evening and both Darian and Tealor assured him that he was making steady progress.
As the army drew near the badlands, the party encountered a familiar face. It was Callin, the warden that had seen them safely to Earlin just weeks before. As soon as he spotted the band, he strode quickly in their direction. Darian, Kilren, Erana, and Gwendolyn were all riding side-by-side. That being the case, he was able to greet them as a group.
“Well met,” the elvish warden said as soon as he was within earshot.
“Well met indeed,” Darian replied with a smile. “It's good to see you again.”
The rogue and the maidens each extended their own greeting after the knight had spoken.
“How have things been with you?” Kilren asked, taking the elf firmly by the wrist.
“To be honest,” he began, “things could be better. The last two weeks have been filled with both fear and danger. Danger from the trolls and other beasts that have begun to stalk these lands, and fear for the people of Innalas that call this place home. Just days ago, we decided to evacuate Earlin shortly after we heard what had happened to Dalfaen. It was actually a little surprising that Earlin wasn't attacked first, considering where it is. Either way, we got them all to safety without too much difficulty.”
“That's good to hear,” Kilren nodded. “How is Cellias?”
Before the rogue's tongue reached the s in Cellias, he knew he had made a rather serious mistake. If there's one thing the mouth of a man should never utter within hearing distance of his bride-to-be, it's the name of another woman. This is especially true if the woman mentioned happens to be extremely attractive. And, above all things, he should never express any kind of interest in her health or well-being. In fact, it's generally in his best interest to act as if his betrothed were the only female in existence.
Having broken this cardinal rule, Kilren's brain attempted to rush other words into his mouth as quickly as possible. For him, however, time seemed to have almost stopped. He valiantly struggled to open his jaws and make some kind of articulate noise before the knight could speak. He was too late. The speed at which Darian could throw them both into even deeper water was ever-so-slightly greater than the rogue's reaction time.
“Yes, how is she?” the knight asked with a wide smile. “I would really enjoy seeing her again!”
The second or so of silence that followed seemed like an eternity to the young rogue. His eyes slowly turned toward the two maidens at his side. He held his breath in anticipation. Erana's mouth had begun to move... just a moment more...
“Well, I'm glad to see you haven't forgotten her!” she said, her eyes cutting straight to the soul of her betrothed. “Of course, I have to admit she is quite memorable! I certainly have no trouble at all remembering her!”
“It seems to me, Darian,” Gwendolyn immediately joined in, “that if you're longing to see her so badly, you know where to find her!”
“Remember who?” Kilren tried.
It didn't work. He didn't really think it would, but it was worth a shot. Especially since he probably couldn't make things any worse at the moment. Callin quickly excused himself, declaring that he wanted to speak to Ian. No one noticed when he left.
The next hour or two was filled with anger, outrage, complete denial, and total confusion – depending, of course, on whose eyes you were looking through.
“So, they’re mad at us?” Darian asked, starring at the two fair maidens that rode a short distance ahead, loudly discussing the knight and his friend.
“Yes,” Kilren nodded slowly, “I think you could safely say that they’re mad at us.”
“Why?”
“Can we have a few minutes of silence, Darian? I have a headache.”
“Certainly, my friend!”
By that evening, the animosity of the young ladies had subsided. Erana finally accepted that Kilren had simply spoken without thinking. Gwendolyn was forced to cede that Darian essentially always spoke without thinking. For his part, the young knight had no idea why the maidens had been angry before, or why it was that they weren't angry now. He was, however, wise enough to understand that whatever the reasons might have been, it was better not to ask.
Before dawn the following morning, there were reports that an enemy force of considerable size was within miles of the elvish army. The commanders made the decision to engage the foe before they could cross the border. The Telian and his captain were summoned to a council of war. The party would aid the armies of Innalas in this first battle before continuing on their quest alone.
Darian and Tealor would ride at the front of the battle-line along with the elvish knights. Erana was positioned among the rangers with Kilren and Rragor at her side. A small group of wizards and sorcerers also accompanied the force; Sarena and Gwendolyn among their ranks. Ian was given a place of special honor and protection amongst the commanders of the army.
They were no sooner organized than mobilized. In the span of an hour, they had encountered the enemy. The elvish army stood, rank upon rank, at the top of an immense hill. The wooded valley below was filled with a massive force of trolls and wargs. In the distance, the horizon
was enveloped in clouds of almost unnatural darkness. The battlefield, however, was wrapped in the golden light of morning. Spears, swords, shields, and armor all reflected the dazzling rays of the sun as the elves prepared their attack.
Ian readied his bagpipes and began to play an ancient elvish war song. The powerful notes echoed off the hills and seemed to fill the entire valley. Hearts raced and pulses quickened at the haunting music that flew from the pipes of the illustrious bard. For them, there could be no defeat.
The monsters filling the valley gave out their own war-cry, bellowing in rage and howling in defiance. A creature stepped from the shadows of the forest below that was head and shoulders above the most massive trolls. It was a hill giant, covered from head to toe in faintly glowing tattoos and wielding a broken and uprooted tree for a club. It roared as it charged up the hill, followed closely by its dreadful allies.
As soon as these fierce creatures were within range, arrows began to fall like rain as the elvish archers fired shaft after shaft into the ranks of their enemies. This deadly hail was unable to break the coming storm, however. Within moments the foe had crossed more than half the distance that separated them from their enemies.
The elvish knights lowered their lances and furiously kicked their mounts into motion. Tealor and Darian flew down the hill alongside their elvish allies, each of their weapons seeking an enemy heart. Just to the north of his position, the young Telian caught sight of a number of nobles who rode into battle mounted on magnificent unicorns. Just before the two forces clashed, they vanished; appearing moments later behind the front line of their enemy. Already, at least to some extent, the foe was flanked.
For his first target, Tealor selected a large troll rushing up the hill almost directly in front of him. The warrior charged toward the monster slightly off center, attempting to conceal his true target from the creature. Just before the pair collided, he jerked the reins; shifting his weight and throwing everything he had into the deadly thrust.
The beast was struck through the heart. The force of the blow drove the lance completely through the monster; nearly shattering the shaft in the captain's hand. He let it slip from his grasp and instantly drew his sword. He would recover the weapon as soon as he had the chance but, for the moment, there was no time.
The young knight carefully examined the battle-line, searching for a weak point. He intended to use his lance as long as possible and that meant keeping his horse in motion. Before the two groups met, he found what he sought. A group of wargs were flying across the battlefield toward him. The knight would merely have to break through their ranks.
Darian selected the largest of the dire wolves as his target. The moment before they clashed, he gave his mount another powerful kick, sending the creature flying ahead with all its strength and speed. The Telian's lance was driven deeply into his enemy, killing it instantly. The knight's mount leapt into the air, avoiding the falling carcass of the dead beast while its rider ripped his weapon from the body of his foe.
The young Telian had managed to break through the enemy line. Immediately, he turned his mount, charging once again toward the foe. As he scanned the battlefield, his attention was attracted by Tealor. The warrior was nearly surrounded by dire wolves and a large troll was quickly moving in his direction. Darian had selected his next target. He would stop the troll.
Tealor slashed out time and again at the massive wolves that faced him. The most fearsome of the beasts leapt upon him trying to knock him from the saddle while its allies attacked and harried the warrior's mount. Although the captain drove his blade through the heart of his flying foe, the monster's carcass hit him with enough force to send him crashing to the ground.
Arrows seemed to flood the area above the warrior's prostrate body the moment he hit the ground. The archers had seen his distress and sent their deadly shafts to save his life. He leapt to his feet in time to see a troll charging in his direction. Suddenly, a lance shot through the creature's skull just before the Telian flew past its falling body. The warrior smiled.
His eyes scanned the battlefield. Already, it was obvious that the elves were doing well. The battle would be over shortly. They had come well prepared to face the foe, and victory was at hand. The one thing that still concerned the warrior was the giant. The runes covering its body seemed to burn with blue fire and any arrow that neared him seemed driven back by some invisible force. The elves facing the monster were suffering losses; a pile of broken bodies already surrounded the creature. They would need help.
“Darian,” the warrior cried, taking hold of the reins of his horse, “we have to stop that giant!”
The young knight turned to see one of the elvish nobles knocked from his saddle and across the battlefield by the tree-club of the massive monster. He also noticed that the dark clouds on the horizon had begun to move quickly toward the battlefield. Their black mist was pouring down the hills in the distance, filling the valley with an unnatural darkness.
The warrior and the knight would have to fight their way through a horde of enemies in order to reach the embattled nobles they hoped so desperately to aid. The pair charged together side-by-side driving one foe after another from their path. As they did so, the dark vapors that filled the valley began spilling onto battlefield; slowly climbing the heights occupied by the elvish arches and spell-casters.
Before Darian and Tealor could reach the enemy they sought, they were completely immersed in the black mist rising from the valley. Although they could see clearly for several feet around them, everything beyond seemed wrapped in impenetrable night. There was no question that this was magic; dark magic. This was something they had not been prepared for. They seemed surrounded by the noise of confusion, fear, and battle. Suddenly, the sound of winded horns rose over the commotion. The commanders had ordered a retreat. They would have to fall back.
Immediately, the Telian and his captain turned their mounts and starting climbing the hill to join their allies. They would need to regroup before they could once again press the attack. As they rode through the fog, a form emerged from the perpetual shadows. A troll stumbled into view, its shattered skull revealing the fact that it was the same monster the knight had struck down just minutes before. It had regenerated enough to rejoin the battle. That was unfortunate.
“I don't like the look of that,” Kilren observed before firing another bolt in the direction of his enemies.
“Neither do I,” Erana agree, loosing a shaft of her own. “Those clouds don't look natural.”
“I've got a feeling they're not,” he nodded.
The couple had already killed a number of enemies and severely injured even more by the time the dark vapors began to envelope the battlefield. It became obvious very quickly that the bows and arrows of the archers would be a negligible force in this battle before long. They certainly couldn't shoot blindly into the darkness and risk hitting friend as well as foe.
“What should we do?” the rogue asked as the darkness hid their allies from view.
“For the moment, just hold our position and wait for orders,” the ranger replied.
“If you say so,” Kilren said, shaking his head. “I think it would better to fall back. We can't fight in that.”
“I'm sure you're right,” she agreed, “but, we need to wait for them to sound retreat. The commanders may know something we don't.”
“I see your point,” he admitted.
Within minutes, the pair stood wrapped in darkness and were only able to see a handful of the rangers that surrounded them. Monstrous noises came from the depths of the mist and Rragor began emitting low growls as he sat staring into the vapors ahead; ears back and teeth bared. Suddenly, several figures leapt from the darkness. A pack of wargs fell upon them.
Almost instantly, two of the valiant elves lay unmoving on the battlefield. Rragor flew toward a beast twice his size as Kilren threw down his crossbow and drew his sword. The pair would stand as a wall between the fair elvish maiden and any attack.
The rogue rushed to the aid of his canine ally and ended the life of their foe with two swift strikes. Another animal charged from the shadows only to be brought to earth by a well-aimed arrow from Erana.
One beast after another materialized out of the mist until the rangers that fought alongside the couple lay dead or dying; surrounded by the bodies of their foes. At last, Kilren, Erana, and Rragor stood alone. The wolf was wounded but, if they could reach safety, he would certainly live. Fortune had smiled on the rogue and his bride-to-be. They were unscathed, but that was unlikely to last for long. All around them, they could hear the sounds of battle. Suddenly, a strong clear tone cut through the air. Retreat had been sounded.
“That's it,” Kilren observed. “We need to fall back.”
“We can't just leave our allies here to die,” she asserted, her gaze falling on one of the wounded and unconscious rangers nearby.
“No, I agree with you there. But, what can we do?” he replied. “Maybe if we...”
The rogue was interrupted by a large troll that had just stepped into view.
“Sure, why not” Kilren sighed before charging at the dreadful monster, screaming at the top of his lungs.
The monster they faced was slightly smaller than the first they had encountered and it was both unarmed and unarmored. However, even small trolls were capable of easily killing a dozen well-armed men with nothing but their bare hands. There was one thing for certain: Kilren would have to stay on his toes.
The beast roared at the rogue and lashed out at him with a claw covered hand. Kilren quickly ducked this blow, slicing the creature across the forearm as he did so. With a flick of his wrist, he cut into the beast's calf before jumping instantly out of the troll's reach. So far, so good.
Erana had put of good deal of thought into how to go about fighting these creatures since their last encounter. She had found only one positive weakness. She would have to take advantage of it. The ranger stood, carefully watching the beast and waiting for an opportunity. The monster paused as the rogue once again leapt out of reach. That was what she needed. Her arrow was no sooner drawn than loosed. Now, the monster would have to fight with one eye.
The Beasts of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 2) Page 13
