Lands of Daranor: Book 02 - ProphecyQuest

by Bill T Pottle

  Fientien thought for a moment. “I don’t like it. There are too many…irregularities.” For all the positive things about dwarves, flexibility, the ability to deal with rapidly changing circumstances, was definitely not among them. They liked things to be calm and normal. Dwarves embraced change like stone. After a few hundred years of wearing away at them, you might change their shape smoothly. Try to chisel away by force, however, and if the master’s hands were not smooth and guided by talent and confidence, things were more likely than not to end up broken. Fientien was one of the most open of all the Gerde-Vak—the stone people. He alternated days shaving, and one of the corners of his house was set at ninety-three degrees. He had even allowed his name to be used as a password to admit travelers in great distress. All this had caused quite a stir in the close-knit community (“What’s next, growing a full beard?” and “Soon we won’t have to make up rumors, we’ll just send Fientien up to them!”) But he had borne all this indignity with a calm demeanor. Certainly, it helped to be a prince. Well, he amended, it helped to be one of the older princes. There were twenty-seven in all, and thirty-two princesses. Fientien was the third oldest. So while his stature did afford him a measure of protection, even Dragonscale armor wouldn’t be enough to protect someone from the collective rumor-mongering power of hundreds of traditional dwarf grandmas.

  Fientien had always had a rebellious streak. A respectable, upstanding man full of good old-fashioned dwarf-sense would never agree to help them, and that was probably the only reason why Fientien was considering it. Well, there was that and the fact that they would owe him a favor. If they were telling the truth, then Tarthur would be just the sort of person that Fientien would like to have in his debt. If they were lying, then at least the female was good looking. Regardless of who she was, he wouldn’t mind having her in his debt either.

  He had been planning to go to the surface and investigate the rumors of the skull knights as soon as dawn broke. In fact, there was already a patrol of fifteen dwarves sharpening their weapons and preparing to leave at first outside light. He grudgingly informed the visitors of this fact.

  Yvonne spoke up, her eyes flashing Fientien a hint that some crazy idea was coming. “You are lucky to have this chance to help us, then.”

  Fientien turned to her, interested. He had never seen someone who could be so confident and scared at the same time. She kept the boy close to her and often glanced around the room as if an attack was imminent. But when she spoke, her tone was pure and hinted at the sharpness of her mind. “You cannot hide a party of fifteen dwarves setting out in full armor to look for skull knights. People in the community will talk. Unless…”

  Fientien could finish from there. “Unless they have another purpose.” He nodded slowly, and then more quickly as the cunning of the plan became apparent. He should have thought of it himself, earlier. “Very well, then. We will take you as far as Treshin. From there you can procure your own guards to Deguz. Of course, you must promise to safeguard my people’s privacy—and, you are now in my debt.”

  Yvonne looked for a split second as if she wanted to protest, her lips parted as her mouth started to open. Fientien narrowed his eyes. She seemed to think better of it, closed her lips and smiled.

  “Thank you,” she said, giving Fientien a genuine curtsey. She should be thankful, he thought. He had given her almost everything she had asked for.

  “Well then,” Fientien said as he stood up and began to walk towards the door. “You have a pitifully short time to stay among the Gerde-Vak. I hope you enjoy it. You may go where you wish here in Albain, but remember to make sure that you keep your promise.”

  Yvonne, Alahim, and Garseon turned to leave. Fientien escorted them out, bringing them into the square to enjoy some non-famous dwarf hospitality. As he looked at the new visitors and then at his beloved friends, doubt choked him. It wasn’t that he regretted helping Tarthur’s family, but, if it was skull knights they sought, traveling with this new party was the surest way to find them.

  Chapter 4: The Beginning of the King

  The spring mist hung heavily around the trees, obscuring the morning and dulling the brilliance of the wildflowers. So many grew there, and very few people even knew the names of all of them. Deep purples mixed with cool turquoises and velvety black petals. A flower for every occasion could be found at this spot, or so the legends boasted. In the outside world, this boast was frequently dismissed as untrue, for how could one clearing feature enough flowers to cover the vast array of human emotions and situations?

  A lone figure perched upon a rock. His thoughts were vividly spinning, but flowers were very far from his musings. He was not thinking of the fantastic multitude of situations and emotions that life could possess. In fact, all his energy was focused on contemplating one thing. He was young, and the world was so simple. At eighteen years of age, he had already figured most of it out. How could some live to be many times that and still claim not to understand the world? Yet, since birth he had always been set apart, put on a pedestal for the rest to look at and smile approvingly.

  Small, intangible wraiths darted through the shadows at the edge of his vision, intentionally staying constantly on the periphery. He noticed but did not care. Most of them he knew. None would hurt him. Privacy was something hard to come by, but mutual respect ensured that it was granted when it was needed.

  The morning was beginning to put up a fight, starting to slowly burn the fog from the trees, enlarging his field of view and restoring the flowers to their appropriate brilliance. A few of the brighter ones seemed to notice the sun, and burst forth in vivid oranges, yellows, and reds. He did not appreciate them, however, still lost in thought.

  Suddenly, she stepped through the trees at his back, eyeing him with a look of surprise. He was usually not so careless. Yet, he was thinking so deeply about the one thing he wanted more than anything else that he was not even roused by her arrival. She gave a little cough.

  “Ahem…Hello, my little P—”

  She was cut off by the startled look in his eyes as he whirled. Although distracted, he had never been slow.

  “Wha…what are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you, of course,” she smiled wryly. “But if you don’t want me here, I can just go back home…” She shrugged with a look of feigned indifference and started to walk away.

  He knew she wouldn’t leave, but he waited until she was almost to the nearest tree before he called out after her. “I mean, didn’t you have Erringuard training all day today?”

  “Oh, that.” she said, trying to sound calm and relaxed. “Glaston decided to let us go to enjoy one of the last spring days left.”

  “Right,” he smirked sarcastically. “And I bathe myself in dwarf sweat every day. Glaston giving you a day off is like the Death Lord opening up an orphanage.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, her hand rubbing her chin in mock-thought. She was still trying not to look too proud of herself, but a smile was fighting to control her mouth, turning up the utmost corners ever so slightly. “Yet, he seemed so much more agreeable with a few drops of suggestasap dropped into his tea this morning. He gave us the whole day off.” Her grin was full now, showing a radiance reflected in her face.

  “You didn’t!” He looked at her aghast for a moment, trying to decide whether to scold her or embrace her. Suddenly, a grin forced itself on his face. “You’re so…devious.”

  She walked over, sat down next to him, and kissed him full on the lips. She broke off, pulled back, and stared straight into his eyes. “You have no idea.”

  They stayed there, looking intensely, neither willing to be the first to break the eye connection. They fell into each other’s eyes, swimming there—or rather, thrashing around, trying to drown deeper in. The birds chirped in the distance and the smaller animals rustled in the nearby undergrowth, but neither noticed.

  He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but when he finally turned his face away, the sun was hot on his ch
eek. “Still,” he continued as if nothing had happened, “your training is important. Someone must guard the Elder One.”

  She scoffed at him. “Let the others practice, then. I’m ten times as good as they are anyway.” Then she softened, and looked back at him, arching her eyebrows. “And he doesn’t need protection if he can take care of himself.”

  He looked off into the distance, almost as if by doing so he could gaze into the future. “Well, things won’t change for a long time. Or we can hope so, at least.”

  “There’s your problem,” she said. “You’re afraid of shaking things up.”

  “And you’re too reckless. Remember last year when you jumped off that bridge without seeing how deep the water was first? You couldn’t walk for a month!”

  “I enjoyed it, though. Flying though the air, I felt so…alive. You’ve got to do things like that to know yourself.”

  “I know myself perfectly well already, and I don’t have to nearly kill myself to do so!”

  “There’s only one way you can really know yourself…” She said it slowly, daring him to respond.

  “But you don’t know what will happen.”

  “Well,” she said. “Shouldn’t we know that, going in? How can we bind our souls if we don’t truly know ourselves? I want to accept you, the real you, and not just my perception of you.”

  “And that’s what I want to give you,” he continued, “but what if something happens? Trina, you know I could never live with myself if you were hurt.”

  “And you know that I could never live with myself if we go halfway. You know I’m not a halfway kind of girl.” She finished her statement with a tantalizing smile.

  He nodded, resignedly. “If it’s important to you, then we’ll do it. I only ask one thing.”

  “Anything, my love.”

  “Let me go first.”

  “As you wish.” She seemed satisfied, and then decided to change the subject. “Now, we are here all alone and we seem to have a beautiful morning ahead of us. There’s something else we need to do, and I’ve been waiting all week…”

  With this she stood again, and brought her right arm up her side, tracing the curve of her shoulder and then her neck. She reached behind her head and slowly released the wooden spike holding her long, dark hair in place. It fell down to her shoulders where the curl caused it to bounce right back up. She reached back and slowly undid the clasp of her dress, but caught it before it fell. She was playing with him, causing a fantastic desire to rush through his veins. After a second, she decided that they had waited enough, for he knew the anticipation was coursing through her body as well. Her dress slowly fell past her shoulders, sliding down her back, past her hips….

  He woke up screaming. His sheets were soaked with sweat and tears, and as he put a hand to his forehead, he felt the faint twinges of a fever. He sat up, went outside, and stared up at the stars. There would be no more sleep for quite some time.

  ***********************

  Tarthur exhorted his horse onward, leaving Addyean struggling to catch up. That had pretty much been the case for the last two days. Tarthur wished that he had brought a faster horse, but if Yvonne had to flee, he was at least glad that she and Alahim had Wendimede. He inwardly cursed himself for the five hundredth time for ever leaving them without a strong protector. It was no good, though. He could not undo the past.

  He was perpetually sure he would meet them right around the next bend in the road or over the next hill. Each time that he was proven wrong, his anxiety increased. For all he knew, they could be dead. Visions flooded through his mind. He saw their bodies, broken and defiled, lying in a ditch somewhere between Treshin and Krendon. He saw the pained expressions on their faces, their eyes looking to the east, pleading for Tarthur to come and help them…but he had been too late. He forcibly pushed the visions from his mind and dug his heels into his horse once more. The poor animal jolted forward, blood running down its flanks from where Tarthur mercilessly dug his spurs in. Normally gentle with animals, Tarthur barely noticed his horse’s pain. Cool sweat matted Tarthur’s hair to his forehead and began to trickle down into his eyes. He let it sting for a moment, and then wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his tunic.

  No matter how hard he tried to wipe the visions from his mind, they would always return, lurking on the edge of his consciousness, floating in like some eerie dark cloud, until they had covered his mind. Tarthur imagined a huge arm wiping away his thoughts with a damp rag. This helped marginally, but a second later the images came back at him.

  A lone figure was standing in the middle of the road, barring his progress. Tarthur started to turn his steed slightly to go around her, but she held out a hand and uttered a sharp cry that broke the stillness of the morning.

  “Stop!”

  Tarthur had half a mind to ignore her, but her next words caused him to reign in his horse sharply.

  “Tarthur of Krendon, I have word of your wife.”

  Tarthur quickly dismounted. Addyean was still a hundred meters back.

  “What news?” he asked, pleadingly, not bothering to ask for identification. He got his first good look at the figure. She was like no one he had ever seen before. She had the unmistakable look of an elf, but she wasn’t like any elf that Tarthur had ever seen. Her hair was dark blue, and her eyes were piercing. Her nose was small and delicate, and her beauty was stunning. But that wasn’t what surprised Tarthur the most. It was her confidence. It was the way that she looked at him. She obviously knew who he was, but he also got the sense that she knew what he could do, better than all but a few people. This didn’t seem to bother her in the least. In fact, she seemed to believe very strongly that she was much more of a threat to him than he was to her.

  “They were attacked by skull knights two days ago.” Tarthur gave an audible gasp as she spoke and a look of horror came across his face. “You do not need to worry,” she assured him. “They are safe. My elven companions and I came upon them just in time. They are well, but slightly injured. They are resting to the north with Derlin and Dalin.”

  Gigantic waves of relief washed over him. Tarthur could now see where the elf’s confidence came from. If she had personally defeated skull knights, then there was not much that she needed to be afraid of. Of course, she had had help from Derlin and the legendary Light Sword. Tarthur had not thought about his best friend lately, but suddenly he realized how much he missed Derlin’s guidance and his hand at the sword.

  Addyean brought in his horse and dismounted. Tarthur hurriedly filled him in. Addyean wore a veiled look of distrust, but said nothing.

  “Can you take us to them?” Tarthur asked hurriedly, almost unwilling to believe that they were safe until he saw it with his own eyes.

  “Certainly, my lord.” She smiled, and then her face became crestfallen. “Although, I have no horse. Perhaps…I could ride with you?” She finished with a little twinkle in her eyes.

  Tarthur shrugged. “Give me your hand.” He reached his arm down to help her up but she ignored it, vaulting up onto the horse on her own instead. She landed with a thud behind Tarthur and wrapped her fiery arms around his stomach. She leaned close and pressed her body against his. She was so close that Tarthur could feel her heartbeat. In contrast to her calm and cool outer demeanor, her heartbeat was loud and fast. There was such vitality in her pulse that Tarthur found himself hypnotized for a second, before he shook her out of his mind with a thought of Yvonne. Only five minutes ago, he had been trying to remove Yvonne from his mind—now, he was trying hard to force her back in.

  “They’re a few hours to the north. Let’s go.” The horse seemed to take her cue, and sprinted off before Tarthur could think to spur him again. Addyean followed suit.

  They rode on for the better part of an hour. Several times Tarthur tried to ask her questions, but she just quieted him and told him that everything would be clear soon.

  Soon they came in sight of a large outcropping of rock. The elf motioned, and then spoke.
“They’re right behind there.”

  Tarthur urged his horse forward, outpacing Addyean once more. He could smell the stench of death in the air. He knew that skull knights had been here recently. By the power of the feeling, he knew that there must have been many, if their presence was still so strong long after they had been defeated. The pommel on his sword hissed and crackled, sensing the residual magergy. He kicked his feet out of the stirrups, preparing to dismount. Tarthur peered around the rocks eagerly, expecting to see the kind faces of Yvonne, Alahim, Derlin, and Dalin.

  The next few minutes were a complete blur.

  “SPIN!” Tarthur heard Addyean frantically call out, and barely had time to register his meaning. He whirled in his saddle, even as the elf’s left hand clamped down on him. He was taken aback by her iron grip. She had the pommel of a dagger raised behind Tarthur and was bringing it smashing down on Tarthur’s head. Tarthur only had a fraction of a second to throw up his arm in a weak attempt at a block.

  It was probably the only thing that saved him.

  He got a piece of her arm, but the force of her blow still sent him sprawling from his horse. He felt blackness force itself in on his vision, until he had only a small window of light. Stubbornly, Tarthur fought back, and gradually the darkness receded and he got a full view of the area behind the rock outcropping.

  What he saw made him almost wish that he had been knocked unconscious.

  Five skull knights mounted on what could only be undead horses charged straight at him. Although he had seen them many times, Tarthur had never actually fought skull knights before. Being so close to them was a completely different feeling. It sucked the air from his lungs, forcing him to stagger back in shock. There was no time to waste. They were almost upon him.