Hadaras leapt off the horse, then quickly cast about to sense for any remaining goblins. Those he could sense were rapidly expiring beneath the heaped mass of soil, rock and timber. “Buried alive,” he muttered aloud, “damn sad way to go, even for a goblin.” Sensing no imminent danger, he hurried over to Aleron. “Let’s have a look at that arm now. How do you feel, lad?”
“I’m a little woozy, Grandfather, but I think I’ll be all right.” After the effort of speaking, he lurched forward and emptied the contents of his stomach onto what was left of the road. “Or not,” he added, between spitting.
“If you can talk, you will be fine,” The old elf assured him. “Wielding magic is tough on the body, until you learn to control it. That was a massive amount of energy you just directed. With that much coursing through your body at once, it’s difficult to conserve your core life-force and use only what is around you.” He knelt down and took up Aleron’s shield arm. With a flicker of blue radiance, he sliced the splintered shaft off smooth. Carefully, he unbuckled and removed the shield and laid it aside. “It’s a barbed point, so I need to pull it through; all right?”
“I’ll be all right, Grandfather,” he answered, but looked away as Hadaras prepared to remove the object. He felt a sharp pinch as he yanked shaft free, followed by a dull throbbing ache in his forearm. “That wasn’t so bad,” he said looking back to see the blood welling through the hole in his leather vambrace. He looked away again, narrowly avoiding losing the remainder of his breakfast.
“You’re lucky it wasn’t poisoned and the bleeding is good; it cleans out the wound. Also lucky it wasn’t a broadhead, or you would be bleeding a lot more than you are.” Hadaras removed the vambrace and said, “Let me get something to wrap the wound.” As his grandfather moved to the horses, to retrieve a dressing from the baggage, Aleron took a deep breath and looked back to his injured forearm. An idea occurred to him and he formed a mental image around it. Hadaras sensed a fresh unleashing of magic and turned to see Aleron, his face set in concentration, with a golden yellow glow emanating from the wound on his arm. The glow then infused his entire body for a moment, before winking out. Hadaras grabbed a water skin and, foregoing the bandage, strode back to his grandson.
“I think I’m good now, Grandfather,” the youth told him as Hadaras returned. “I feel pretty good now, actually.” Hadaras noticed the paleness he had seen earlier on the boy’s face replaced by its normal healthy glow. The forearm was still bloody, but the wound appeared to be gone.
“Let me wash off that arm and take a look.” He poured water on Aleron’s arm and scrubbed the blood away, rinsing his hand and the forearm clean. He saw barely a trace of the puncture left on the boy’s arm. “Can you move it and roll your wrist like before?”
Aleron rotated his wrist several times and stated, “Yes, it seems fine and doesn’t even hurt at all now. I think I feel better than I did before I got shot.”
“That was healing magic you just used and you likely healed everything that was amiss, including fatigue,” Hadaras informed him. “I’ve seen it used in the past, but only by the Aelient and Aelir, never by a mortal. You are full of surprises this morning. Now we need to get the path back in order, so we can move along. When that raiding party fails to return, the goblins will send out another, to find out why.
With the coaching of his grandfather, Aleron once again harnessed the maroon colored energy and dragged the soil, rock and debris back into the crater, more carefully this time. Unfortunately, this action unearthed most of the goblin and dog carcasses, along with much splintered timber. Hadaras used his blue fire to dispose of the corpses and debris. Aleron helped with the burning, though he was not as efficient as the elder sorcerer was. He also used the maroon energy to reduce some of the larger rubble, in order to clear a path. When the work was complete, a large ring of rubble and ash surrounded their little island and Aleron was once again exhausted. “Saddle up lad,” Hadaras called to him, “We need to put some miles between us and those goblins. They will know something is amiss when they find that patch of burnt ground and there is no hiding from their wolves.”
***
Xarch ran as if his life depended on it, for he was quite sure it did. Elves, damn bloody elves, they had to be, he thought as he ran, on all fours when he came to hills and obstacles. Goblins can move like wildfire when the need arises. He had narrowly escaped the exploding wall of earth that had engulfed his party, lucky to be far enough back and behind a massive hickory when the debris hit. He lost his bow, but still had his knife, his wits and his feet. They might whip me for surviving to bring bad news, but the Chief needs to know about elves travelling in disguise through the lands of men. Xarch was sure the Chief would welcome the information and he would be rewarded in the end, even if he was in for a beating first.
***
Eilowyn sat in her chamber, escaping the heat of mid-day. A terrible feeling of unease came over her and she worried for Aleron’s safety. The feeling passed as suddenly as it came and she was left to wonder about her feelings for the young man. Doubt crept into her mind as she thought; Do I only like him because I know he will be King someday? No, I liked him when I thought he was a commoner. I was trying to find a way to sneak around the guards and kiss him when the thing with the sword happened. No, it’s not that he will be King, but it does make it better. Knowing her father would not forbid a union put it into the realm of possibility, rather than fantasy. She could actually marry him some day, which would never be allowed were he common. I just hope he is safe. That feeling was too real a moment ago.
***
Hadaras and Aleron rode along at a brisk trot. They would ride through the night, for if they stopped, they would certainly deal with more goblins. They would reach Freemarket by early morning, possibly with a horde of goblins on their heels. Hadaras knew it to be a well-fortified frontier town, with a large garrison to defend it. The goblins would be unlikely to attempt a frontal assault, unless they massed at far greater numbers than the usual scattered raiding parties. They should be safe at Freemarket.
***
Zormat sat alone in his cabin, deep in thought, as he often spent his days and nights at sea. Thirteen days into this leg of the journey, they had still a month to go before they would reach the port city of Corin, capital of Thallasia. His sleep was interrupted by another premonition. It was very much the same feeling he felt two weeks before that, only this time, it came in the form of a dream. The dream was of vague flashes of power, the flavor of which, he was not familiar. Someone is unleashing powerful magic in the world, someone dangerous. He was certain that was the case. The question at hand was, is this someone a potential ally or a foe? He felt that the time was near, that he would find out.
Chapter 15
Carpathday, Day 10, Haymaking Moon, 8760 Sudean Calendar
Dawn brought them to the walls of Freemarket, after a hard night of riding. About two bells prior, the horses were near collapse, with the riders not much better. Hadaras said, “We need to stop and rest before we kill the horses.” They had come to a stream crossing and the pair dismounted to allow the horses to drink.
As the thirsty animals drank, Aleron reached out and placed his hand upon the neck of his own mount. The same golden radiance he had used to heal his arm infused the exhausted animal. The horse jerked its head up in surprise, snorting and pawing the ground with newfound energy. The boy grabbed its bridle and rubbed its neck to calm it down, saying, “Easy there, old girl, keep drinking, we have a ways to go yet.” He continued on the other horses, with similar effect.
Hadaras watched as his grandson healed their tired mounts and packhorse. When Aleron came to place his hand upon him, Hadaras said, “Not me lad, I’ll be all right. Save that for the horses. You don’t want to wear yourself out.”
Grandfather, this one makes me feel better as I use it. Let me help you. I feel as if I’ve slept the whole night through, right now.”
“Very well, but nothing comes without
a cost. That magic must come from somewhere.”
Aleron placed a hand on Hadaras’ shoulder and concentrated. Hadaras felt the warm glow infuse his entire being. Suddenly he was no longer tired, thirsty or hungry. It seemed like he felt better than he had in years, though that was likely due to the extreme fatigue he had recently been experiencing. Aleron broke his concentration, replying, “This one seems to come right out of the ground. It’s especially strong in the water here. I can feel it going back upstream to the springs that feed this stream.”
Now they found themselves at the gates of the last village of men, with relatively fresh mounts. As for themselves, they felt as if they had slept the night through and simply had an early start that morning. Hadaras thought, Were this magic in common use, armies could march night and day across the continent and the wounded would be healed and sent straight back to battle. Forget spreading comfort among the masses, this would make mass warfare seem that much more affordable to an ambitious tyrant. The Allfather must have had a reason to limit our access to the two forms allowed us, but why should it be different for this boy? “Try to look tired,” he instructed Aleron, as they approached the gatekeepers. “Good morning to you,” he hailed the guards.
“And to you Sir,” answered one of them, through the heavy bars of the gate, “State your business…What brings you to Freemarket?” The pair was, judging by the livery they sported, Sudean General Infantry, likely here on a six-month rotation to guard the outpost.
“We simply seek lodging for a few days rest, my good man,” Hadaras replied.
“On your way to the South Kingdom then, you come from Arundell?” The one speaking wore a silver chain, denoting sergeant’s rank; the other wore none, signifying he was a private.
“We came through there, yes, but originally from down Ellesfort way. Just to let you know,” he continued, “we had a run in with a band of goblins mid-day yesterday. We’ve been riding ever since, to put some distance between us and we’ve no idea whether or not they have been following us.”
“Well, if they are following you, it won’t be anything new here. They test us nearly every night. Odd for them to have attacked you during the day; they usually wait for dark.”
“I agree; they must have thought us an easy target, being only two. We managed to drive them back and break contact.”
“How did you manage that, with only two o’ ya?” the private inquired.
“It was a small party and we’re both good with a bow,” Hadaras answered, “so after we killed a few, the others backed off.” Aleron remained silent throughout the exchange.
“Neither here nor there,” the sergeant commented. “If they are on your trail, we’ll kill em just like we kill all the others that try to get in here. Goblins are pretty easy to kill. It’s the trolls that give us trouble. It takes a heavy bow to pierce one of their hides and they’ll shed an axe blow like heavy plate. You go on in and tend to your animals. They don’t look too bad for running since noon yesterday, but I’m sure they could use some rest, oats and water. Your boy looks ready to fall out of the saddle, though.”
“Let’s go Aleron. Thank you, gentlemen and enjoy the rest of your day.”
“Oh, I’m sure we will,” the sergeant replied sarcastically, as the other guard opened the gate for them to pass.
They passed the massive iron gates and through the thick stone wall, twenty feet high. More guard patrolled the ramparts. It was obvious that Freemarket existed only through force of arms, in this goblin infested territory. Hadaras commented, “Goblins and trolls tend to congregate near roads and settlements in the wildlands, hoping to prey upon travelers and unwary townsfolk, just like bandits in the more settled lands. Good job acting exhausted, by the way,” he added when they passed out of earshot of the guards.
“Why, thank you, Grandfather. Don’t they have bandits out here as well?”
“Some, but not as many, due to the goblins and trolls. They make an easier living closer to civilization. When you do find them, however, they are big trouble. Usually, they form large bands for mutual protection and live in fortified villages, for the same reason. Freemarket was once such a town. After a few generations, the thieves became legitimate businessmen.” The stables hadn’t moved since last Hadaras had visited. They made directly there to put the horses up. Luckily, they had locked storage available, for an additional fee, so they did not need to lug all their gear to the inn.
Later that morning, after securing rooms and a large breakfast, Aleron asked, “So what are we doing next, Grandfather?”
“I think it would be best to lie low today and get some real sleep. We should try to fit the story that we rode sunrise to sunrise. It wouldn’t due for us to be seen wandering around, if our story becomes known. In addition, we do not know what the long term effects of your intervention may be. I wouldn’t want the effect to suddenly wear off somewhere inconvenient.” And so, they settled into their room. The furnishings seemed somewhat coarse and rustic, but clean nonetheless. The following day, they would explore the outpost and lay in supplies for the long trip to Dhargul.
***
“Grandfather, who is Jessamine, really?” Aleron asked, after they had settled in. He had been pondering many questions since discovering the truth of the legacy he was heir to and asked periodically, as new ones came to him. He now knew the details of his parent’s death, at the hands of an assassin. He knew that Hadaras was really Goromir, High Sorcerer of Elvenholm, from the histories, likely the oldest elf on Aertu. He learned that his grandfather had fathered many children and had outlived them all. It occurred to him, that Hadaras had no other children, recently, aside from Aleron’s mother, so Jessamine was unlikely to be an actual relation of his. He was somewhat hurt and resentful at the years of deception, but it was not in his nature to hold grudges. Young as he was, he understood the necessity of what his grandfather did, after the Kolixtlani killed his parents. “She’s not really my cousin, is she?”
“No, she is not, my boy,” Hadaras answered. “She is a friend, who cares very much about you and me. We have been friends for many years and she agreed to help me take care of you.”
“Is she an elf too, or a human, or is she something else?”
“Something else, lad, let’s just leave it at that for now.”
Aleron knew when he wasn’t going to get anymore information out of his grandfather, so he cut his line of inquiry short. It did not require much imagination to figure out what “something else” could mean. She obviously was not a dwarf, goblin or troll, so the only thing left was Aelient.
***
Later that evening, when Hadaras spoke to Jessamine on the events of the past day, all she had to say on the subject was, Well, it looks as if our little boy is growing up. I cannot say why the Allfather is allowing him access to magic usually reserved for my kind.
He was able to wield the red alongside the blue, to no ill effect. I have never seen a man who chose the red, able to return to using the blue. He claims that there is nothing inherently evil in the magic, just that it is chaotic in nature, the ancient sorcerer related.
It could be that chaotic power is the inevitable choice of those who choose evil, not that it turns them to evil. It may be that both blue and red were always open to men and we simply misunderstood the nature of the red and avoided its use for the purpose of good, she hypothesized. The blending of powers is what strikes me as the most unusual aspect. That ability may place him on par with the Aelir. Even we Aelient cannot accomplish that.
I see the outcome I fear becoming the more likely each day that Aleron is as much the fulfillment of the old prophecy, as he is the new.
That does appear to be the case, my love. For what it’s worth, I am sorry for that.
Chapter 16
Zorekday, Day 30, Haymaking Moon, 8760 Sudean Calendar
Three more weeks of travel brought Aleron and Hadaras nearly to the headwaters of the Arun River. They were moving less than twenty miles per day through th
e steep, rugged terrain. Fifteen days earlier, they reached the ten thousand foot elevation marker and the border crossing with the dwarves. Hadaras’ name alone was enough to gain them passage and Aleron reflected upon how well known his grandfather was, even under his assumed name. Grandfather told him some of the other names he had lived under, in the four millennia since Goromir disappeared from the knowledge of Aertu. Many of the other names were also prominent in the historical accounts Aleron read since early childhood. The old elf was continually moving the world as he moved within it. They worked their way slowly along the narrow path, barely wide enough for two small carts to pass, hewn directly into the side of a sheer cliff. To their left and arching overhead, was a smooth finished rock wall. To the right, was a low stone railing that appeared, as it would do little to keep one from toppling over the side and falling to the foaming water hundreds of feet below, where small fields were visible along the far side of the river. The dwarves used every inch of arable farmland within their harsh environment, specially adapting crops to the high altitude and short growing season. “Isn’t today supposed to be a day of rest, Grandfather?” Aleron asked, between yawning.
“Would you prefer that we rest right here?” Hadaras asked in turn. “It may be a bit inconvenient to have to break camp every time someone needs to pass us by. I think, perhaps, that we should wait until we reach a turn out, constructed for such purposes.”
“Sorry Grandfather, I didn’t mean that I wanted to stop right now. It just seems like we’ve been riding forever.” Aside from the occasional way station, spaced several days apart on the trail, there had been little to break the monotony of the trip. Once or twice a day they would pass trader’s carts heading back to the lands of men, loaded with manufactured goods and occasionally they would pass up a cart loaded with foodstuffs or fabric, heading to Dhargul.
The Halfblood King: Book 1 of the Chronicles of Aertu Page 11
