The Stars of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 1)

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  After a moment of silence, Darian answered.

  “Up until I left on the journey, I was still considered a boy. I didn't really work; I trained.”

  “And, yet you were fed and clothed... How much is that armor you're wearing worth?”

  “I don't know, sir,” the Telian replied, gazing down at his breastplate. “It was given to me.”

  “Well, how did you come by that sword and your horse?”

  “They were also given to me,” he answered with some embarrassment.

  “And your guardian... who is he by the way?”

  “Andor was my lord and protector, and is now my brother-in-arms.”

  “Ah... of course, Andor the Telian, I should have realized...” The large warrior said, smiling at the young knight.

  “You know him?”

  “I know of him, as most people within a hundred leagues do. Still, that's not the point at the moment. Do you think he stole the things he gave you?”

  “Of course not!” Darian replied.

  “Well then, how did he come by them?”

  The Telian rode along in absolute silence. He had never considered the question before. His own father gave a portion of the crops he grew to Andor, but that was the extent of his knowledge. It was obvious that his former lord had a great deal of wealth. However, Darian had no idea where it came from.

  “Well, as you don't seem to have an answer, I'll explain it to you,” Tealor said after a few moments. “Your lord holds lands around the fortress he calls home. He offers the men and women who live on those lands protection and guidance. He acts as defender, judge, and, to the best of his abilities, he ensures the health and welfare of those that live under him. In return, they share a portion of their crops and other profits with him. It's a relationship where each offers something to the other and both are stronger because of it. You were given everything you needed in order to head into the world and start helping anyone in need. For the moment, that's enough for you. As for me, I started working in the fields when I was six. When I was still a very young man, I joined the army and learned to wield a sword and shield. From there, my lovely bride and I headed out on our own and started taking care of dangerous problems that people needed solved. Our clothes, food, weapons, armor, and mounts were all paid for with the rewards we've received. We couldn't afford to do it for charity, and we still can't. Imagine if I hadn't been able to afford that rather unique dress that protects my wife. Today, I would be a widower. It's a great thing to fight for honor alone; but not all of us can afford to do that. It's not that I didn't want to rescue this sweet young maid, it's just a matter of also needing to make a living.”

  “I'm sorry if I appeared ungrateful!” Gwendolyn replied. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  “Think nothing of it, dear,” Sarena laughed.” We hired blades are often misunderstood.”

  “I'm very sorry if I've offended either of you!” Darian said, riding up beside the large warrior. “Without you and Sarena, Gwendolyn would still be in the hands of her captors. In fact, your wife may very well have saved my life today.”

  “You haven't offended me, Telian,” Tealor replied gruffly, “but it's important that you understand that not everyone can live the life you do.”

  “Well, I would be honored if you and Sarena would keep my share of the reward.”

  “As would I,” Erana added quietly.

  “I think it would be better to let the girl's family keep the shares of these two generous champions, my love; we may have asked too much for such a simple job anyway,” Sarena said, smiling at Gwendolyn.

  “I agree, my dear.” Tealor replied, a smile spreading across his own face. “This has all been far simpler than I feared it would be – mainly due to the aid of our young companions.”

  The entire party fell into silence as they rode along. In a few hours’ time, they would reach a village that could offer them both food and rest. Darian had enjoyed his adventures so far, but he couldn't deny the longing he felt to once again fall asleep covered with blankets rather than armor. It would also be pleasant to eat something that didn't come out of a saddle bag. Life in the field had a great appeal to the young knight, but so did well cooked meals and warm beds.

  Chapter 5: Rest for the Weary

  The shadows began to lengthen as the small band silently traversed the miles that separated them from their destination. They were traveling on little sleep after long exertion, and it seemed more peaceful to ride quietly along than to try and maintain any conversation. At last, however, the young maiden they had rescued grew weary of this silence and decided to break it.

  “Why is that symbol engraved on your breastplate?” she asked suddenly, turning to the young knight who rode by her side.

  “It's the symbol of Solarin, the kingdom I serve,” he answered, glancing down at his chest.

  “I know it's the emblem of Solarin,” she replied. “But it was conquered years ago.”

  “Not completely. Someday it will be restored.”

  “You honestly think so?” the maiden asked, smiling at Darian.

  “I'm certain of it,” he nodded. “Solarin will rise from its ashes and regain its lost glory.”

  “I didn't know Telian Knights served Solarin although, honestly, I don't know a great deal about them,” she replied after a moment's silence.

  “Well, in truth, the order doesn't serve any specific kingdom. Each of us goes where we're most needed. Many Telian wander Areon seeing justice done and evil vanquished. We serve the Eilian first and the kingdoms of Areon second, if at all. I've chosen to offer my strength to Solarin because of its great need and, of course, Andor's tireless devotion to its cause.”

  “How did Andor come to serve Solarin in the first place?”

  “I'm not really sure,” the young knight replied, shaking his head slowly. “I never thought to ask. I know the king was a just and righteous man. By law, all Telians within his kingdom were treated as full Solarin knights. Still, I'm not sure why Andor offered the king his allegiance; I only know that he did.”

  “I see... So, if a Telian Knight married a girl and they lived in Solarin she would be considered a lady?” the maiden asked, considering the possibilities.

  “I suppose so...” the knight answered after a brief silence.

  At first, he couldn't fathom why it mattered but, after a moment's thoughtful consideration, he felt he understood.

  “But, Andor never married, so he had no lady. I think that's one of the reasons he took my family in. I'm basically his adopted grandson. He helped raise me and trained me as a knight. Andor knew I would be a Telian before I was even born.”

  “How could he know that?” she asked with a touch of disbelief in her voice.

  “He read it in the stars,” Darian answered, gesturing toward the sky.

  “Did he now?” Sarena asked, suddenly joining the conversation. “Well, that is rather interesting, isn't it? They say that the stars of Areon have much to tell those who know how to listen. If Andor truly can read the signs, he has a rare gift.”

  “Well, other than telling me he knew I would be a Telian, he's never said much on the subject. You could ask him about it if you’d like; I'd be happy to introduce you.”

  “Thank you, young champion,” Sarena replied, smiling at the pair. “I feel certain that meeting Lord Andor would prove very interesting. Once this sweet maiden is returned safely to her family, my husband and I will be happy to accept your gracious invitation.”

  Once again, silence enveloped the exhausted band. The weary miles that lay before them filled their minds with thoughts of cool drinks and warm beds. Just as the setting sun began to dip below the horizon, the first outlying buildings of the village of Perklas rose into view. Gentle lights flickered in their windows, while small white wisps of smoke rose from their chimneys. The surrounding fields were filled with growing crops or grazing animals.

  To Darian, these small farms seemed like warm and merry places. In man
y ways, they reminded him of his own childhood home. He had been raised in a fortress, however, cloistered away from the rest of Areon. For the first time in his life, he was entering a new community. It was an experience he had long been looking forward to.

  Erana could not share the same expectations. Although the experience would certainly be new, she couldn't imagine that it would be pleasant. Up until the moment she crossed the mountains beyond Innalas, she had known only the elvish way of life. To her, the little hamlet seemed like a scar in nature itself. The long dirt roads that ran through the village were like wounds cut across the face of Areon. The houses stood in towering rows that forced the surrounding landscape to accept the pattern that man dictated. Fields were filled with plants and animals all made to bend to the will of this domineering race.

  “This is the first human village I've ever seen,” Erana almost whispered as the party rode slowly along.

  “Quaint, isn't it?” Kilren chuckled.

  “I don't think that's the word I would use to describe it,” she replied, glaring with disdain at the houses and shops that met her view.

  “What's wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” Erana said, shaking her head. “Well, everything, but you wouldn't understand.”

  “Try me,” the handsome rogue smiled.

  “Well, look at this place!” the ranger exclaimed, waving her hand in front of her. “The people here have shoved nature aside without the slightest regard. They've dug out hills and filled in valleys so their houses could be built along in straight little rows. They cut down countless trees so that they could plow fields and plant crops in rows. They drive their animals and wagons over the same stretch of earth again and again so that all their roads will fall neatly in a row. It's a perversion! How often do you see a straight line in nature? Yet, that seems to be the only pattern which appeals to the mind of man!”

  “Elves don't have roads?” Kilren asked after a brief moment of stunned silence.

  “Of course we have roads! But, not like this!” she replied, once more waving her hand angrily in front of her. “The people here have scarred Areon forever; this land will never be the same! I thank Selvios that I've never ridden through a human village before!”

  “Actually you have,” Tealor said, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “We passed through one about two hours ago.”

  Erana turned toward the large warrior in surprise.

  “It was called Ungal and it was burned over twenty years ago,” Tealor continued. “You didn't seem to notice the scars that man had left behind when we rode through it.” Here, the large warrior paused a moment to give the fair elvish maid a chance to consider his words before speaking again. “You see, Erana, mankind may push nature aside to make room for himself but, once he's gone, nature returns to her place.”

  “In elvish villages, nature need never leave,” she replied quietly.

  “I've visited a few of them myself and I certainly agree with you. Your people have a gift for persuading nature to serve you without forcing her,” he said, smiling at the lovely elvish ranger. “Still, keep in mind that we're guests here and it would be rude to insult our hosts.”

  “Of course...” the elvish maid answered.

  A few minutes more brought the party to a large building in the very center of the little village. A very old signboard covered with very new paint hung above the door. It depicted a large black bird sitting on a tankard with the words “The Whistling Raven” written neatly beneath it. From the interior of the establishment, sounds of boisterous talk and merry laughter spilled out into the streets.

  “I'll take the horses and have them stabled for the night. You can go in and make arrangements for us, dear heart,” Tealor said as he came to a stop before the door.

  “I would rather accompany you, my champion. The fool can escort the others inside and order food and lodgings for the night.”

  “You're right my love,” her husband replied, climbing down from the saddle. “Here Kilren, take this... No, on second thought; Darian, you take this purse. Kilren, you handle the arrangements; Darian you pay the score. There's a farrier just down the road, we shouldn't be long.”

  The door of the inn swung open to reveal a very unusual party seeking shelter for the night. A young man covered in shining armor first stepped into the smoke filled common room. He was quickly followed in succession by an attractive young girl and a beautiful elvish maid. On their heels came a young man, whose appearance didn't seem remarkable until contrasted with that of his companions. The four paused for a moment, gazing over the scene as silence filled the room. All eyes were drawn to the mysterious travelers and all conversation ceased. The shorter of the two men stepped to the front and spoke to the barmaid nearest at hand.

  “You know ravens don't whistle, right?” he asked as a broad grin spread across his face.

  “They do if they drink our ale,” the rather heavy young barmaid replied.

  “Well then, I'll have one.”

  “Over there,” she said, pointing with the empty mug in her hand to a table near one corner of the room.

  “Thank you, beautiful!” Kilren winked.

  Immediately, the air was once again filled with clamorous talk and resounding laughter. As the four sat, Darian took in his surroundings. The common room was filled almost exclusively with men enjoying the company along with the plate, the pitcher, and the pipe. One man, in particular, caught his attention. Even had his fine blue garments with their garish silver trim not seemed so out of place, his other qualities would still have rendered him conspicuous. He was more than a foot shorter than Darian and held in his hands an open book slightly wider than his shoulders. On the table in front of him sat a large silk hat ornamented with a long white feather accompanied by a glass of dark red wine.

  “I wonder who that little man is?” Darian asked aloud, staring over his shoulder at the rather unique individual.

  Kilren glanced up and immediately grabbed Darian by the arm, bringing his attention back to their table.

  “That's a dwarf. They don't like being stared at, and they certainly don't like being called little man,” he whispered to the young knight.

  “Sorry, I didn't know...”

  “Have you never heard of dwarves?” Erana asked, stealing a glance at the well-dressed stranger.

  “Of course, I've heard of them!” Darian replied, rolling his eyes.

  “Well then, how couldn't you tell he was one?” Kilren asked, a touch of almost disbelief in his voice.

  “I didn't think they'd look like little old men,” the young knight quietly replied, shrugging his shoulders.

  “What did you think they'd look like?” the rogue asked, thoughtfully raising one eyebrow.

  “I don't know,” Darian answered, shaking his head. “More like children I guess...”

  “You know, sometimes...” Kilren began before stopping mid-sentence.

  Once again, a shadow warned him that he was not alone. He turned to find four rather large men standing at the side of their table. One of them swayed slowly from side to side as if the floor of the inn were the deck of a ship. The other three also appeared, by various degrees, to have had more to drink than may have been good for them. Of the four seated at the table, only Kilren recognized the obvious signs of intoxication. Darian and Gwendolyn had been sheltered from such knowledge, and elves that over imbibe don't suffer the same symptoms. As the eyes at the table turned toward him, the largest of the drunken men spoke.

  “Good evening, ladies,” he said before pausing a moment to steady himself and catch his breath, “It's rare that we see such beautiful faces at the Raven.”

  “That's true enough!” another of the men added, smiling down at the elvish maid.

  “What say you come join us at our table?” their leader continued.

  “I think they'd prefer to stay where they are, friend,” Kilren said, standing as he spoke.

  “I'm not talking to you,” the large lout replied, gr
abbing the young rogue by the shoulder and shoving him back down into his seat, “I'm talking to these girls here.”

  At this, Darian began to rise, but Kilren stopped him with a glance.

  “I'll tell you what, friend,” the rogue grinned, “you go on back to your table, and I'll buy you guys another round.”

  “No thanks, friend... Well, how about it ladies, you want to come have a chat with some real men?”

  Both maidens gazed silently down at the table before them, neither certain how to respond. Gwendolyn's cheeks reddened with embarrassment as her mind flew through all the possible ways of saying ‘No thank you.’ without hurting anyone's feelings. Erana, on the other hand, suffered not from embarrassment, but from frustration. It was a simple thing to face a man in combat and attempt to kill him; it was quite another to try and get him to mind his own business. If her brief encounters with human men had taught her anything, it was that simply telling them to ‘go away!’ would be the surest way in Areon to get them to stay forever.

  The ladies sat in silent indecision, completely unaware of the increasing danger of every passing moment. Neither of them had any concept of the effects of too much ale on a man's mind. They had no idea that in situations like this, even nothing can be the wrong thing to say. It was a lesson they were soon to learn.

  “So, too good to speak to us, eh? I'll teach you some manners!” the drunken leader roared, reaching out and grabbing Erana firmly by the arm.

  In an instant, both Kilren and Darian were on their feet. The young rogue seized Erana's assailant by the wrist, ripping his hand away from her body. The Telian reached for his blade and had it half-way from its scabbard when his elbow was caught by the rogue's free hand. All this happened in the blink of an eye and, for a moment, the drunken men stood stone still staring at Darian's half-drawn sword.

  “What are you doing?” Kilren asked, turning to look his friend in the face.

  “I'm going to teach these men a lesson!” the young knight said with fire flashing in his eyes.

  “Oh, I agree we should teach them a lesson,” Kilren slowly nodded, pushing the Telian's sword back into its sheath, “but you can't teach a corpse, can you? A man has to live through the lesson to learn anything from it.”