by A. Giannetti
Despite his protests, Elerian was placed a litter made of branches and cloaks before being hoisted into the air by four sturdy Dwarves. Forming a long column, the entire company set off, traveling north at a fast trot. Elerian’s litter, with Ascilius running beside it, brought up the rear of the line.
“We will have to wait until we reach the Catalus before we can have a bite to eat,” said Ascilius regretfully to Elerian. “We have many miles to cover before nightfall.”
“I can wait,” replied Elerian who felt more tired than hungry. All through the afternoon and evening, he drifted in and out of sleep as the forest passed like a green wall on either side of the road, the great limbs of the trees forming a leafy roof over his head. As his strength returned, he healed his wound more completely.
“I can walk now, I think,” he said to Ascilius who was running by his right side, but Ascilius was adamant that he remain on the litter.
“I will tie you on, if you refuse,” he threatened. “Rest now while you can.”
Giving in, Elerian lay back, allowing his thoughts to drift while the Dwarves ran stoically along, passing his litter back and forth among themselves. His thoughts were drawn irresistibly to Anthea.
“I hope that she will return soon so that we may talk in some quiet place,” he thought anxiously to himself. “Skilled and resourceful as she is, I would not have impatience drive her to set out for Iulius alone as she threatened before. Once she knows that this adventure is finally drawing to a close and that I will be free, soon, to return to her side, I may be able to persuade her to wait for me in Tarsius.”
At that same moment, on her balcony far above the softly gleaming white marble walls of Niveaus, Anthea looked to the west and caressed the softly pulsing ruby she wore on her left hand as she relived the events of that morning. The sense of impending danger she had felt earlier that day was gone, but her mood was still not tranquil, for she was torn by conflicting emotions. Despite Elerian’s repeated urging that she remain in Tarsius, the desire to join him grew stronger by the hour, but it was counterbalanced by the thought of the grief her sudden disappearance would cause among those who loved her.
“How am I to decide?” she wondered restively to herself, a frown marring her fair features. “On the one hand, I tire of being only a shade in Elerian’s presence. I long to feel the warmth of his body beneath my hand, and when he is in danger, I wish to come to his aid at once with cold steel as well as magic. Today I arrived almost too late to aid him. The next time I am called, I may find him beyond my help, a circumstance I could not bear. The price of my departure, however, would be uncertainty and distress for those who love me, for they would not know my fate. I must leave in secret or risk being brought back by my father’s knights. ”
The thought of the basin Elerian had give her father suddenly brightened Anthea’s mood. “Here is the solution to my dilemma,” she thought eagerly to herself. “If I leave at night, no one will miss me until morning. When father realizes that I am gone, he is certain to look in the basin. The sight of me far out on the plains will both reassure him and also deter him from sending any pursuit, for my lead will be too great by then for even the best rider to overcome. When I reach Iulius, I can send a message to Niveaus explaining where I have gone and why. He and Dacien will be grieved at my departure, but at least they will not suffer any uncertainty over my fate. Fearing for my safety, Elerian may be less than pleased to see me, but he will bend to my will once I am by his side,” she thought complacently to herself, a mischievous gleam lighting her cobalt eyes.
Having quieted all her doubts, Anthea resolved to begin her journey to Iulius at the first opportunity. “I will leave the city during the first inclement weather that extends into the night,” she thought to herself determinedly. “The streets will be deserted then. Disguised by an illusion spell, I can ride Portia out of the city without being questioned. After that I need only ride to the hunting lodge where my horses and gear await me.”
Far to the west, as if privy to Anthea’s thoughts, Elerian suddenly felt a vague unease, as if a sudden ripple had disturbed the quiet surface of his mind. “Is it Anthea that disturbs my thoughts?” he wondered to himself. “Why do I not have the same connection to her mind that she has with mine?” he wondered in frustration.
“She has the necklace,” whispered a voice in his mind. “It gives her powers that you do not have.”
Startled, Elerian sat up suddenly on his litter, surprising the Dwarves carrying it. He searched his mind, but the voice of Dymiter was stilled.
“Let me down,” said Elerian impatiently to Ascilius. “I am ready to walk on my own now.”
Noting that the weariness was gone from Elerian’s face, Ascilius ordered the litter bearers to stop. When the Dwarves lowered Elerian to the ground, he rose without his usual supple grace, but was able to stand on his own two feet.
“I feel almost myself again except for a stiffness in my leg and an uncommon hunger and thirst,” he said to Ascilius after taking a few steps.
“Running will remedy your leg, but food and drink will have to wait until we reach the Catalus. It would not be wise to stop now,” replied Ascilius.
Breaking into a slow trot, Elerian followed the Dwarf company north, Ascilius remaining by his side when the column of Dwarves began to outdistance them. As Elerian’s steps grew light and supple once more, however, his pace increased until he and Ascilius came within sight of the company again.
It was late evening when the Dwarf column suddenly emerged from the forest, the road now running through an open stretch of green meadowland that sloped down to a wide, fast-flowing river. Looking over the heads of the Dwarves in front of him, Elerian saw that the highway ended at a stone bridge supported by four massive stone piers, the turbulent green waters of the river foaming white against their bases, a testimony to the strength of the river’s current. A breastwork of fresh dug earth protected by a deep trench had been thrown up to a height of six feet in a semicircle in front of the bridgehead, an opening blocked by a wooden gate at its center. Dwarf sentries were standing at regular intervals along the top of the earthworks, their spear points flashing silver in the light of the setting sun.
When Ascilius’s company became visible to the sentries, a horn filled the air with long, mellow notes. The makeshift gate in the center of the earthworks opened, and a score of heavily armed Dwarves marched out. As if of one mind, Ascilius’s column of Dwarves slowed, allowing him and Elerian to advance through their ranks to the head of the company. With Elerian by his right side, Ascilius approached the gate in the dike and its guardians, who waited with spears held ready. Their stern, dark eyes held a welcome for Ascilius, but they regarded Elerian, who had long since resumed his human disguise, with curiosity and some suspicion.
“You should cross the river with your company at once, my lord, for we are under orders to destroy the bridge as soon as you are safely across it,” said their leader to Ascilius.
“What of those who came before me?” asked Ascilius.
“The wagons and the Dwarves accompanying them have already gone on to Iulius. My company will follow them as soon as we have burnt the bridge.”
Parting their ranks, the sentries allowed Ascilius and his company to proceed across the bridge. Abandoning their dike, they followed after. When all of them were across, true to the word of their captain, one of their number, an older white haired Dwarf, touched his hand to the thick timbers that supported the stone roadbed of the bridge. Red flames sprang up beneath his fingers, spreading rapidly across the ancient oak beams that ran between the bridge piers. A roaring sound filled the air as the mage fire consumed the massive timbers until, with a groan of weakened wood, the whole roadbed collapsed into the river with a tremendous splash, the magical flames hissing like a great serpent as the rushing waters of the Catalus extinguished them.
“It is sad to see such an ancient structure destroyed, but at least the Goblins will not find it easy to cross the Catalus
with the bridge gone,” said Ascilius to Elerian. “By the time they build a temporary bridge we will all of us be safe inside Iulius.”
“A good ending to a perilous undertaking,” replied Elerian as he turned away from the river. Immediately, his sharp eyes spied a lone wagon drawn up under the trees by the side of the road. Turned broadside to the river, its lanterns spread a cheerful pool of yellow light around it.
“I thought that all of the wagons had gone on to Iulius,” said Elerian to Ascilius in a puzzled voice.
“Let us find out why this one remained behind then,” replied the Dwarf as he led the way toward the vehicle. Circling around the wagon, they found Eonis and his sons sitting around a small fire on folding chairs.
“Welcome Ascilius,” said Cordus springing out of his chair. “Our father refused to leave until either you appeared or we had word of your fate. Sit and take part in our meal, for the bridge guards have shared their stores with us. ”
“Yes, nephew, sit and tell us of what has transpired since I last saw you,” said Eonis cheerfully, a large mug of beer in his right hand and a gleam of welcome in his dark eyes. He appeared to have recovered fully from his wounds and had set aside the trappings of war. Instead of mail, he now wore a sky blue hooded tunic with a belt of silver links around his waist, soft, dark pants, and brown leather boots. A crown of silver sat on his white locks, which, like his beard, he now wore loose.”
“I suppose there is no harm in resting for a bit,” said Ascilius wearily as he took one of the two empty chairs near his uncle. “I doubt that we will see a Goblin north of the Catalus before tomorrow night.”
Seeing that their captain intended to rest, Ascilius’s company made camp on the sides of the road near the wagon. Fires sprang up and the bridge guards joined them, bringing with them food and drink which they shared freely.
Beneath the enormous oak tree which spread its broad limbs over the wagon, Elerian sat down gratefully on the empty chair next to Ascilius. Quincius, Eonis’s aged attendant, brought food: wine, cheese, fresh bread, sliced cold meats, and apples and pears from the orchards of Iulius. More importantly, as far as Ascilius was concerned, there was as much beer and wine as he could ever wish to drink. After he had eaten a hearty meal, Ascilius related to Eonis and his sons all that had transpired since they had left the Catalus, leaving out only the part where he had chased the Goblin with Elerian on his back. Elerian smiled to himself at the omission, but he said nothing that would have spoiled Ascilius’s narrative.
“A brave tale,” said Eonis when Ascilius finally finished. “Your fitness to rule remains an open question in my mind, nephew, but even I will admit that you have become a skilled practitioner in the arts of war as well as a brave and crafty leader. I doubt that any other Dwarf among us could have brought as many of our people safe to Iulius as you have,” he concluded magnanimously. “As for your companion, I have misjudged him too. There is more to him than meets the eye, I think, but I will leave it to the two of you to reveal his secret in your own good time.”
“Thank you uncle,” replied Ascilius gruffly. He seemed genuinely moved to Elerian who suspected that these were the first words of praise that Ascilius had ever heard from his uncle. An embarrassed quiet now fell over the Dwarves who all busied themselves with their tankards of beer to cover the sudden silence.
“This has become far too serious and sentimental a gathering,” thought Elerian to himself, a gleam that had nothing to do with the firelight shining in his gray eyes as he sat unnoticed in his chair, sipping lightly from a mug of wine. “I think that I would be doing everyone a service if I livened things up a bit.”
After first calling his silver ring to his right hand to make himself invisible, Elerian cast a calling spell with an inconspicuous movement of the fingers of his left hand, causing the coin given to him by the Siogai to appear on the turf-covered ground on the far side of the campfire. Instantly, a gleaming pile of coins became visible at the edge of the yellow pool of light cast by the fire, their golden sides shining seductively in the flickering light given off by its flames. Eonis was the first to notice them, sitting bolt upright in his chair like a hound that has suddenly caught some particularly alluring scent.
“I say is that gold?” he whispered, his words slightly slurred, for he had arrived at that stage of drinking where the spirits he had imbibed cast a warm glow over the world but also slowed his thoughts and actions.
The moment the word gold left Eonis’s bearded lips, his sons and Ascilius all looked up together. Spotting the shining heap of treasure, they all flew out of their chairs, each of them intent on reaching the gold first. Perhaps thinking that free coins gave him equal rights with royalty, Quincius joined in the mad scramble, but all four Dwarves fell afoul of Eonis, who, galvanized by the sight of the illusory treasure, thrust his staff left and right between the legs of his competitors, reducing them to a thrashing heap of arms and legs in an instant. Darting around them with a cry of triumph, he bent to retrieve his prize at the very moment that Elerian sent his coin away, leaving the familiar illusion of a huge, hairy spider with faceted crimson eyes in its place. Nose to venomous mandibles with his old nemesis, Eonis straightened up with a strangled cry and fell flat on his back.
“Good heavens, I hope I have not killed him,” thought Elerian to himself, torn between laughter and anxiety. He was reassured when Eonis suddenly lifted his head and stared wildly about.
“Will the same trick work again?” wondered Elerian to himself as he caused his illusion to scuttle over the king’s chest before leaping onto Ascilius’s head, which had just emerged from the mound of heaving bodies and limbs in which he found himself trapped. Unaware of the illusion now perched on his head, Ascilius bleared eyes grew wide with alarm when his uncle suddenly leaped to his feet and rushed at him with his staff upraised. Unable to escape the tangle of arms and legs that held him captive, he desperately ducked his head, causing Elerian’s spider to retreat to his shoulders.
“I will save you nephew,” Eonis shouted fiercely as, determined to squash his persistent enemy once and for all, he brought his staff down with a loud thump on Ascilius’s broad shoulders.
“Ascilius is fortunate to still be wearing his padded shirt beneath his mail,” observed Elerian sagely to himself as Eonis directed a series of furious blows at Elerian’s illusory spider which continued to spring and scuttle about with such rapidity that each stroke of the king’s heavy ebony staff missed its mark, landing instead on some portion of desperately squirming Dwarf anatomy, for slowed and confused by the spirits they had consumed, Ascilius and the other Dwarves were only able to make feeble efforts to escape from the tangle they found themselves in.
Before long, Elerian was laughing so hard that tears blurred his eyes as Eonis pursued the illusory spider as vigorously as if he had drunk half a flask of aqua vitae. Taking pity at last on Ascilius and the other Dwarves, Elerian sent his illusion scuttling into the nearby forest before ending it entirely. Still shaking with laughter, he climbed high into the oak tree near the wagon as added insurance against being discovered.
“Boys, Quincius, rouse yourselves,” shouted Eonis. “The sending of the Umbrae may still be lurking about.”
Disentangling themselves, the Dwarves armed themselves with cudgels and for at least half an hour searched around the campsite under Eonis’s direction. They were helped by Dwarves from Ascilius’s company so that for a time, the woods beneath Elerian’s perch were thick with Dwarves searching behind every tree and under every fern. The one exception was Ascilius, whose baleful glance remained fixed on the branches above his head. Tiring at last of the fruitless search, Eonis finally called it off.
“The creature has no doubt retreated deep into the forest,” he said wearily to Ascilius. “I doubt that it will trouble us again tonight.”
“I will keep my cudgel close at hand in case it does return,” Ascilius assured his uncle, his eyes still fixed on the branches overhead.
“The go
ld that we saw would have been some recompense for our trouble tonight, but I see that it, too, has disappeared,” said Eonis regretfully. “The Siogai were likely the source of it, playing their usual tricks to amuse themselves.”
“Whoever the perpetrator was, he will pay dearly if I catch him,” grumbled Ascilius, tapping his staff ominously against the palm of his powerful left hand.
“I had best stay out of sight as long as he carries that great, ugly stick,” thought Elerian, his eyes glinting with laughter as he sat on his comfortable perch high above Ascilius’s head. He watched as Eonis, overcome by weariness and the spirits he had consumed, climbed into his wagon to sleep. A whispered conversation, which even Elerian’s sharp ears could not catch, now took place between Ascilius and his nephews before they, too, climbed into the wagon. Ascilius then helped Quincius hitch up the ponies, after he and the steward had packed up Eonis’s gear and extinguished the fire.
“Wait here for a moment,” Ascilius directed Quincius after the steward climbed into the driver’s seat of the wagon.
“What is he up to now?” wondered Elerian curiously to himself as Ascilius walked to the rear of the wagon and stealthily opened the back door of the vehicle. Moments later, Eonis’s staff emerged from the opening, held by a hand that could only belong to one of the king’s sons. Moving slowly and quietly, as if engaged in some risky endeavor, Ascilius took the staff and closed the wagon door. Passing right under Elerian, he walked deep into the forest and cast the ebony rod far into the trees, unaware that Elerian had followed him through the canopy overhead.
After muttering, “Good riddance,” Ascilius stomped away through the trees.
Eyes alight with laughter, Elerian retrieved the staff and raced through the canopy, arriving back at Eonis’s wagon ahead of Ascilius. Opening the back door of the vehicle, he saw Eonis nearby, sleeping restlessly on his back. His sons had also fallen asleep, both of them wearing peaceful looks as if they had finally rid themselves of some troublesome problem.
