“So do we,” the beautiful woman said, smiling. “We set out just an hour after we heard of your troubles.”
“I see. Why have you come to us?” Captain Irral asked, his gaze passing from one to the other.
“My name is Tealor. I'll bring your girl back,” the man replied, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I'm sure, of course, you'll be willing to offer a generous reward for her return.”
“Tealor. I've heard your name before,” the captain said, staring up into the eyes of the massive mercenary.
“Many people have.”
“Well, I admit I'm impressed with what I've heard.”
“Many people are.”
“However, I'm not sure we can...”
“Anything!” Faelor interrupted. “Whatever you ask!”
The young woman stepped lightly over to the girl's father and set her hand gently on his shoulder. “A thousand tennari.”
“I can raise that much, given a few days,” he replied after a moment's hesitation.
“Excellent!” Tealor said, reaching out his hand to each of them in turn. “You'll have your girl back shortly.”
As the couple withdrew, the young woman turned back, a sympathetic look in her deep green eyes.
“I'm sorry we have to ask for so much gentlemen, I truly am. However, everything has its price. It may cost you a large sum of money. It may cost us our lives. Each one of us has to be willing to risk a great deal.”
Everything was quiet and peaceful at the bridge spanning the Neres river. Ordinarily, it was a beautiful place this time of year, especially on a particularly fine day like this one. The entire world seemed wrapped in sunshine and the tranquility of spring. Bees filled the air with gentle humming as they diligently carried on their work. Countless wild flowers grew all along the water's edge and up the steep sides of the little valley. In the sky above, fluffy white clouds were floating along, dotting the countryside with patches of cool shadow.
For two poor men, however, this scene was very different. For them, this beautiful valley was the valley of death. The shadow that covered them no wind could drive away; the chill within their hearts no amount of sunshine could warm. Their corpses lay side-by-side where they had fallen the night before. The stiff bodies of the two unfortunate soldiers stood as witnesses against the mysterious horsemen. Their silent lips begged for justice from the young knight standing over them.
“Who are these men?” Darian asked, gazing down at the faces of the dead soldiers.
“Guards from Tagril,” Kilren answered, slipping down from his horse. “They keep a constant eye on the bridge, not that there's ever any need for it.”
“Well, I would say a countryside filled with brigands was a good reason to guard the bridge!”
“Yeah, about that,” Kilren said as he began searching carefully over the scene. “I lied.”
“What? Why?” the Telian scowled.
“Tagril's a bad idea. At least, that's what I thought when we headed this way. Now, I'm not so sure...” the rogue replied, grabbing his mount by the reins. “Let's head back. Maybe we can find out what happened.”
“We don't have time!” Darian said, hopping back into his saddle. “We have to hurry if we're going to catch these villains!”
“Look, Darian, this wasn't a battle, it was a murder. These men's swords are still in their sheaths. They were cut down without so much as a warning. The men that did this aren't going to be aiming unloaded crossbows at you!”
“All the more reason to bring them to justice!” the young knight said vehemently.
“Well, you can do it without me,” Kilren replied, climbing up on his horse.
Darian considered his odd companion. He had assumed Kilren would come with him, but he couldn't force the young rogue to risk life and limb in the pursuit of justice. That was the fate of the Telian; the destiny to which the Eilian had led him. They had provided Kilren as a guide to lead him here; perhaps that was the only purpose he was meant to serve. After a moment's silence, Darian held out his hand.
“Thank you for your guidance, Kilren. I've enjoyed your company.”
“You're a fool,” Kilren replied, grabbing his companion's wrist and giving it a firm shake.
“I'm sure it seems that way to you, but we have different destinies. As a Telian Knight, it's my duty to pursue these men. I also have to warn you, Kilren. If you continue down the path you've begun, you'll end up like these murderers; and it will be you that justice is tirelessly pursuing.”
Darian turned his horse and started across the bridge.
“Hold a moment!” Kilren cried, sliding once more off the side of his horse and stooping down beside one of the dead soldiers. “I'm coming with you. It's obvious you still need looking after!”
Darian smiled, happy that his destiny and Kilren's would run side-by-side for a little longer at least.
“Sorry, friend,” the rogue said, unbuckling the guard's sword belt. “Consider this the price of justice.”
He quickly wrapped the belt around his waist before climbing back on his steed.
“You just robbed a dead man right in front of me...” Darian began as Kilren met him at the middle of the bridge.
“I didn't have a sword. Besides, you really think he'd mind my using his own blade to avenge him?”
Darian couldn't find a way to argue with such logic so, with a shake of his head, he gently kicked his horse into motion.
As Gwendolyn sat eating the hard biscuit and dried meat the mercenaries had given her, she listened carefully to what they were saying amongst themselves. So far, all she had managed to learn was that Galrin – whoever he was – wanted her kidnapped, and that he was apparently a very wealthy and powerful man. She hoped to learn more as it would at least satiate her curiosity – even if it couldn't better her situation. The most obvious question was: Why did he want her kidnapped in the first place? It seemed that the same question was running through other minds, as well.
“What I don't get is why he wants her,” said one of the men eating beside Barlan.
The speaker was a small man, at least compared to his rather massive leader. His hair was light brown mixed with gray and there was a scar under one of his light gray eyes. Sir Barlan, as he would have himself called, seemed to be slightly younger than his companion, if only just. His dark hair refused to play host to a single silver thread; his quick, excited movements showed that youth and energy were not yet forgotten by his giant frame. His deep green eyes hid something dark behind them. Gwendolyn couldn't help but wonder how many lifeless victims those eyes had looked down on without pity or remorse.
“As I've said before, it doesn't matter why he wants her. The point is that he's willing to pay,” Barlan said, wiping his hands on the edge of his cloak.
“And, as I've said before, the job doesn't sit well with me,” his companion replied before taking a drink from the flask at his side.
“Why is that? Getting a conscience after all these years?” Barlan laughed. “It's a little late for that, Mort.”
“It's not that,” Mort replied with a chuckle. “Although, compared with your black heart, I come out looking like a saint. The thing is, I have practical problems with the whole setup. Your problem is that you're blind to everything but coin.”
“Galrin wants the girl. Galrin pays us to get her. Just like any other job.” Barlan said, taking a large bite of the biscuit in his hand.
“Then explain this to me: Galrin is Valrak's right hand. Valrak commands the largest mercenary army within a hundred leagues. Yet, Galrin hires us – a band of ten – to go get this girl. Why? He has a thousand men that will do whatever he asks. Why send us?”
At this, Gwendolyn looked up. She had been doing her best to appear as if she weren't listening, but Valrak was a name she had heard before. Many times, her father had spoken of his rise to power. The now famous mercenary leader had been a young man when Mikral declared war on Solarin. At the time, he – along with what was the
n his small band of mercenaries – had joined the Mikralian ranks. He had gained fame and glory during that war while Gwendolyn's family lost titles, lands, and lives. What little she knew of Valrak was enough to make her fear him.
The large mercenary took a drink to clear his throat before answering.
“Well, Mort, I'll tell you. We were sent on this job because Galrin wants to see just how capable we are. He wants men who can handle tough jobs in small numbers; men who'll do exactly what they're told without asking questions. He's adding something new to Valrak's ranks, something special.”
“And, we're being considered for this?”
“Some of us are.” Barlan nodded slowly.
“What of the rest of us?”
“Steady work in the ranks,” the large mercenary grinned. “Still, in truth, I don't feel he's likely to break us up now that we've proven just how well our band works together. I expect he'll leave us just as we are, but with steady work and more gold than we know what to do with.”
“Why didn't you mention this before?” Mort objected.
“Galrin wants men that don't ask questions, Mort!” Barlan vehemently replied. “You may as well get used to not asking them now. I didn't tell any of you because none of you needed to know. It's as simple as that. You can't let your curiosity get the better of you. I don't do things without good reason and neither does Galrin. From now on, that's going to have to be a good enough explanation.”
“Well, I don't trust him,” Mort answered, shrugging his shoulders. “He is a wizard.”
“He's also mad,” added a rather weak voice.
Gwendolyn glanced at the speaker and noticed, for the first time, that not all of the mercenaries had come away unscathed. One of the youngest of the band sat with his back against a tree; a bloodstained bandage wrapped around his leg.
“What do you know about it, Kal?” Barlan asked with a tone of derision.
“I know some of Valrak's men, some of the men that work near Galrin. They say he's lost his mind. Valrak tries to keep things hushed up, but Galrin's become obsessed with looking for the 'key to the gates of death' – or so they say.”
“Well, if he's looking for that, then he is mad; there's no such thing,” Barlan said, a large grin spreading across his face. “Still, I reckon the money of a mad man is just as good as anyone else's.”
“Well, I still don't like it!” Mort exclaimed, rising to stand beside his leader.
“Well then, you don't have to come with us!” Barlan replied, slapping his lieutenant on the shoulder. “Kal can't keep going at this pace anyway. You and he ride to Eras and rest up for a day; then, go and wait for us back at the old ruins. The rest of us will take the girl, get the gold, and meet you back there in a few days’ time.”
Mort stood irresolute for a moment. “Alright, I'll take him if you're sure you won't need me.”
“We've done the rough bit. We're hours ahead of anyone who's following us. We won't be caught and, once we dump the horses and head into the mountains, no one will be able to track us.”
“Alright then, we'll meet at the ruins,” Mort said holding out his hand to his captain.
A few minutes later, the entire band was mounted and headed for their destinations. Gwendolyn was placed on a horse which was tied to Barlan's own stallion. The prisoner and captor left the camp riding side by side; making their way toward the mountains.
As Darian and Kilren continued across the bridge, a light, feminine voice arose from the nearby foliage.
“May I come with you, as well?”
Both the young knight and his rather less honorable companion were startled by the hidden speaker. Each of their horses stepped quickly to the side; focusing all of their attention on the source of the sudden sound. Kilren almost fell from the saddle but, in an instant, he had regained both his posture and his composure.
“What in Areon is wrong with you?!” he began, yelling at the top his lungs. “Were you trying to scare...” Turning his head as he spoke, he beheld a beautiful elvish maiden stepping from her place of concealment. “... the young lady to death! Give her some room, Darian! You don't have to take up the entire road.”
“But, I...”
“I know, you were raised in the country and forgot your manners for a moment. No need to apologize. Still, the less said about it the better.”
Giving the lady one of his most charming smiles, Kilren slid instantly from his horse; offering her a slight bow as soon as his feet touched the ground.
Before Darian and Kilren stood the very image of elvish delicacy and grace. Her slender frame was no more than five feet high and her long silver hair perfectly complemented her beautiful deep green eyes. She was neither pale nor tan, but somewhere in between. The tips of her pointed ears poking through her hair were what most attracted Darian's attention. Kilren's attention was attracted by everything else. The young knight had never met an elf before; his companion had met many, but none so fair as the one that stood before them now.
“Of course, you can come with us if you’d like...” Kilren began, offering his hand to the lady.
“No, she can't,” Darian interrupted. “I'm sorry, miss, but we're riding straight into the arms of danger and possibly death. We can't take you with us.”
“What do you mean? She'll be fine! I'll look after her!” the rogue replied, glowering at his companion.
“Look after me?” the elvish maiden said derisively. “I'm not asking for an escort. I'm offering you my assistance.”
“Of course! I merely meant that we would watch out for each other,” Kilren replied, taking a step nearer the beautiful ranger. “I'll certainly keep an eye on you and, if you want to do the same for me, well...”
“I appreciate the offer, miss...?” Darian said, looking down from his mount with a gentle smile on his face.
“Erana,” the elvish maiden said, taking several steps away from Kilren.
“... Miss Erana,” the knight continued, shaking his head. “It’s just that this may be more dangerous than you imagine.”
“I'm not concerned with the danger.” Erana answered, gazing up at the Telian confidently.
“Even so, the journey may very well be long and difficult,” the young knight said, waving his hand as he spoke.
“I can endure it,” was the elvish maiden's simple reply.
Darian shot a quick glance at Kilren. The young lady's determination surprised him. However, he couldn't risk taking her with them. For him, there would be no danger, but he couldn't be certain about the fate of his companions. He wouldn't have this young girl's blood on his hands. Unfortunately, a more direct approach was required.
“Again, I thank you for the offer, miss but, to be honest, I'm not sure you could be a great deal of help, and you might even slow us down.”
At this, Erana laughed.
“So, is it because I'm an elf or a woman that you doubt my ability?”
“I don't doubt you at all!” Kilren said, glancing from the maiden to the knight. “Darian, it's beneath you to be so rude!”
Both Darian and Erana stared silently at him for a moment before continuing.
“Miss Erana...” the knight began.
“Just Erana,” the maiden insisted.
“Very well. Erana, I would say I know nothing of your abilities because I know nothing of you. I meant no insult; I'm merely concerned for your safety,” the Telian said, his brows pulling slightly together.
“Ha!”
“Is it because I'm a human or a man that you doubt my honesty?”
Erana grinned up at the young knight. “Well said, sir...?”
“I'm Darian, and this is Kilren,” the knight answered.
“Very happy to make your acquaintance, Erana,” Kilren said, taking another step in her direction.
“You're a Telian?” Erana asked, doing her best to ignore the rogue.
“I am,” Darian answered, “but, how did you know?”
“For one thing, I'm not deaf; for ano
ther, you look the part – at least, to my imagination. I've never met one before today.”
“Well, it certainly has been a fortunate meeting,” Kilren said, smiling broadly. “Still, we'd better get going. Here, Erana, let me help you onto my horse.”
The maiden glared at Kilren for a moment before saying, “Miss Erana...”
“We have no time to debate it: are you certain you want to come with us?” Darian asked, gazing down at the fair elf.
In response, Erana unshouldered her bow, drew an arrow, and shot at a tree roughly two hundred feet away. The arrow stuck in the very center of the trunk, right at chest height. “I'm also a tracker,” she said, slipping the bow back over her shoulder.
“She'll be a great help, Darian,” Kilren said, moving once more in Erana's direction. “Allow me to help you up...”
“We'll be glad to have you with us,” the young knight nodded.
“Thank you!” Erana replied, jumping up to ride behind the Telian.
“Do you have a blanket in your pack?” Kilren asked, as he climbed back in his saddle.
“No, why?” Darain answered.
“Nothing, I just got a chill...” Kilren observed with a slight shiver.
The two horses that galloped away from Tagril were as different as their master and mistress. The fair Sarena was mounted upon a slender white beast whose hooves seemed barely to touch the ground as it passed. Tealor's own dark brown animal was the very image of strength and power, throwing earth behind it as it tore the road with its heavy tread. Her deep red hair and dress stood in stark contrast to the pale beast on which she rode. His hair, eyes, cloak, and mount were all of one color. The lady was like fire and light: fast and graceful, merry and warm, blinding and deadly. The warrior was solid and stable, rugged and tireless, with heavy bones and heavy steps.
“Someone's gotten here before us,” Tealor observed as the pair reigned in their horses at the old stone bridge.
“Yes, my love, I feel certain these men didn't die of natural causes,” the lady said, staring down at the two dead soldiers; a playful smile gracing her lips.
The Stars of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 1) Page 4
