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

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  The captain was not without skill but, in a direct contest, he was no match for the mercenary. Tealor beat down Captain Ungar's guard and, with a flick of the wrist, pushed his blade to the side before stabbing him deeply in the shoulder. With another turn of his blade, Tealor knocked the captain's sword to the ground. At the same moment, three more arrows of light struck the Telian's adversary who screamed out in pain as he dropped from his horse. Gwendolyn's last pursuer realized that the battle was lost and fled following his terrified allies as an arrow and a bolt followed quickly behind him. Luck – or the Eilian – were with the young man, however, because both shafts bounced harmlessly off of his armor before he disappeared into the distance.

  “Surrender!” the young knight said, panting and holding his outstretched sword toward the chest of the captain.

  In reply, his defeated foe only roared before turning his horse and quickly galloping into the distance. Having so soundly beaten their enemies, they let the wounded captain go without pursuit.

  With the battle over, Gwendolyn's noble animal came trotting back to the party, and the healing hands of the Telian were once more called upon. This time, he aided friend and foe alike. Tealor's wound was quickly closed, and the soldiers who had survived the assault were attended to, as well.

  Before the young knight treated their wounds, they were disarmed and Kilren bound them, hand and foot.

  “You do realize they were just trying to kill us, right?” Kilren asked as he tied the hands of the trampled sentry. “Why go to the trouble to heal them?”

  “They're injured,” was the Telian's simple reply.

  “But, they're our enemies,” the rogue observed.

  “While they were on the battlefield, they were our enemies. Now, they're just wounded men.”

  “I'm not sure I follow that!” Kilren replied, pulling the ropes on the sentry's wrist so tight that he cried out in pain.

  “You,” Darian said, glancing up into the man's face, “what's your name?”

  “Gamron, sir,” the soldier replied.

  “Where do you come from?” the Telian asked.

  “Tagril, sir, I'm one of the town guards.”

  “So, you recognized Gwendolyn?”

  “Yes, sir, I've seen her many times before.”

  “You knew she was kidnapped?”

  “Yes, sir. I felt sorry for the poor girl.”

  “Yet you attacked us, her rescuers. Why?”

  “I was ordered to, sir, it's as simple as that. Lord Kilmer's sent men all over the countryside to find the girl. He wants to be the one to return her to her father for whatever reason. We weren't meant to attack you, of course, but when you refused to release the girl... Well, you saw what happened. I attacked you, sir, that's true, but it wasn't personal. It had come to blows, and it was my duty to stand by my captain; same as it was your duty to stand by yours.”

  “I see,” Darian nodded. “Are you married Gamron?”

  “I am, sir, sixteen years,” the soldier replied with a smile as Darian's hands spread their healing warmth through his body.

  “Have any children?”

  “I do, sir, four. A boy and three girls. My son's almost of age and means to join the ranks. He'll be knighted that boy will, mark my words. I've never seen a young man with more natural skill, sir, and that's the truth! The way he handles a sword amazes me. I was twice his age 'fore I could do half as well.” The soldier continued to talk of his wife and children as the Telian went from man to man, healing them each in turn.

  “Now, Kilren,” the Telian said, turning to face his companion. “Do you think we should cut his throat or just leave him a cripple?”

  “Well, heal them all then!” the rogue exclaimed. “But hurry. We need to get out of here as fast as we can, one way or the other.”

  “Actually, I'm done,” the knight said, rising from where he knelt beside one of his patients. “I can feel the power burning in my veins, I can do no more for them.”

  “I think I can help you out, lad,” Ian said, stepping over near the next wounded man.

  The bard began to sing sweetly of home and hearth, wife and children, green grass and bright sunshine. Slowly, the look of pain fled from the face of the bard's patient as his wounds were healed and his body restored.

  “It's not just the Telian that can heal the sick and treat the wounded,” the dwarf said with a wink. “Music is excellent medicine.”

  “I've never seen magic like that,” the knight replied.

  “Well,” the bard said, “I'll wager you'll see more of it before we've brought the girl safely home.”

  “So, the song you sang before those soldiers fled; was that magic?” Darian asked.

  “Some would say every song I sing is magic,” the bard replied with a chuckle. “Those that know anything of music, for instance. But yes, that song was something special.”

  By the time the last of the soldiers was attended to, the bard looked weary, although it had taken him only a few minutes to treat their wounds.

  “Are you alright?” Darian asked with concern.

  “I am, lad,” he answered with a nod. “Just like you, I have my limitations, however. I think that'll be enough of this kind of music for the day.”

  The sorceress and the maiden stood side by side watching as the wounded were attended to.

  “So, why did you ride away?” Sarena asked suddenly.

  “Well, those men were headed straight for the bridge,” Gwendolyn replied. “It was the only way I could think to help.”

  “It was very courageous of you.”

  “Not really, I knew they weren't going to hurt me.”

  “Did you?” the sorceress asked, a slight grin gracing her lips. “That's more than I knew.”

  “Well, I mean; they just planned to take me to Lord Kilmer, and he would take me to my father.”

  “Oh... Of course,” the sorceress replied without conviction.

  “So, you've got a great aim,” Kilren said, stepping over to Erana. “You're also rather brilliant at selecting your targets.”

  “What makes you say that?” The ranger asked, gazing into the eyes of the rogue.

  “Well, you picked the same targets I did,” he replied. “It shows you have a certain tactical understanding.”

  “Perhaps,” she nodded. “It also means we need a better strategy. It's useless if we always shoot the same man.”

  “I wouldn't say useless,” he chuckled. “Still, you're right. So, what do we do?”

  The ranger stood in silent thought for a moment before replying.

  “We'll select the two most formidable opponents on the field. You shoot to the right and I'll shoot to the left.”

  “What if we disagree about which opponents are the most formidable?” Kilren asked.

  “We haven't so far,” Erana grinned.

  “Good point!” he nodded.

  “We need to get out of here quickly!” Tealor observed as soon as the knight and the bard completed their work. “There'll be more soldiers here soon.”

  “What is your plan, my love?” Sarena asked, stepping over to the side of her mount and holding out her hand.

  “Well, we can't go straight into Tagril,” the warrior replied, taking his wife's hand and helping her back in the saddle. “That's for certain. There are going to be more of Lord Kilmer's men between us and the town, even as close as we are.”

  “We can head for the fortress,” the young Telian interjected.

  Gwendolyn turned toward the knight, a broad smile on her face.

  “That's a brilliant idea!” she exclaimed.

  “I'm not sure,” Tealor said, leaping on the back of his horse. “I have allies in southern Mikral that even lord Kilmer would hesitate to cross. If we could make it to them, we could get a large escort back to Tagril for a small share of the reward.”

  “I'm certain we're willing to follow wherever you wish to lead, dear heart,” Sarena said, gazing over at her love. “But, we had better come t
o a decision quickly.”

  “How close is the fortress, Darian?” the warrior asked.

  “About two days’ ride from here,” Darian answered. “Less if we press ourselves.”

  “Is there a way to cross the river near there?”

  “I don't know,” the Telian said, shaking his head. “I've never tired.”

  “We'll head for the fortress,” Tealor said after a moment's contemplation. “If we can't find a crossing, we'll swim the river.”

  “Of the many, many skills that Ian Donald Angus Malcolm McFaren has at his command, swimming is not one of them,” the bard pointed out.

  “Don't worry, master dwarf,” Sarena said, turning her gaze toward the bard. “My love can carry you safely across on his back.”

  “Well, I for one, hope it doesn't come to that,” Ian replied with a chuckle.

  “As do I,” the warrior laughed.

  Having made the decision, the party turned their horses to the east and rode as quickly as they could along the far side of the river. There was little doubt that more Mikralian soldiers would soon be pursuing them. It would be best to put as many miles as they could between themselves and their adversaries before the hunt began in earnest.

  Chapter 7: A Dangerous Road

  “So, Kilmer has failed me, as well,” Galrin sighed, staring down at the image of the fleeing party. “At least his blundering wasn't completely unexpected.”

  The ancient wizard waved his hand slowly above the placid pool that stood before him while chanting softly to himself. Slowly, he bowed his aged head and gently blew across the surface of the water. At once, the scene upon which he gazed began to shift and change. Hills covered with sunshine melted away; replaced by dark stone walls. The image that filled the bowl into which the enchanter stared became that of a small office. The chamber was occupied by a large table at which two men sat.

  One was middle aged, dressed in armor bearing the symbol of Valrak's mercenary army. His hair and massive beard were dark, as was his complexion. A livid scar on his left cheek gave witness to the danger of his profession. He sat with knitted brows surveying a map of the surrounding lands. In particular, his focus was drawn to the Neres bridge and the village of Perklas. He traced out several possible routes from one to the other; moving his finger slowly across the map.

  The other individual was far younger and dressed in a far less military attire. His blond hair and pale skin stood in stark contrast to that of his companion. He sat, pen in hand, jotting figures in a book that lay before him. His thoughts were in quite another vein. Lord Valrak's profits had been remarkable this season, especially when one considered that they weren't currently involved in any large conflict. Twenty of Faerdor's men had been hired to escort Bilgar's caravan all the way from the mountains to the sea – that was certainly good for business – but a majority of the gold had come from the surrounding villages. These regions were currently ruled by no king and every wise village elder knew the benefits of ensuring Valrak's personal interest in their defense. Over the last few years, trade had improved; bringing new wealth to the region. As that wealth increased, so did the fees that the mercenary lord charged to ensure the villages’ safety. The young man smiled as he gazed down at the numbers before him; imagining the bags of shining coins stored safely in the outpost's strong room.

  “Faerdor,” Galrin's voice rang through the office, apparently from nowhere.

  Both men started at the sudden sound.

  “Yes, my lord!” Valrak's faithful servant answered.

  “The girl has been found,” the aged wizard said.

  “Excellent, my lord,” Faerdor replied.

  “I wish it were, captain,” Galrin sighed. “The party escorting her refuses to surrender the maiden to our authority. A number of Lord Kilmer's men have already met with defeat at their hands.”

  “Kilmer is a fool, and his men are incompetent,” Faerdor scoffed.

  “I agree, captain,” the wizard said. “I feel certain you can do better.”

  “What would you have me do, my lord?” the captain asked.

  “Their party is traveling east along the river,” Galrin answered. “I want you to bring the girl to me and kill the others. Lord Valrak will not have his authority questioned. They were given the opportunity to submit and refused. Their blood is on their own heads.”

  “I understand, my lord!”

  “How many men do you have at your disposal?”

  “Only four, at the moment,” Faerdor replied. “Bilgar hired twenty of them not three days ago and I have ten more in the field collecting payments. They should return in a day or two.”

  For several seconds, his statement was met with only silence.

  “There's no time to spare, captain,” Galrin replied. “I wish you had more men, but it can't be helped. Strike fast and hard, Faerdor, or you'll awake in the halls of Kaldor before the sun sets.”

  “Worry not, my lord,” the captain said. “Your enemies will fall before me as they always have.”

  “Farewell, Faerdor. Do not fail me.”

  As the ancient wizard's voice faded into the air, the young man spoke.

  “Captain, there's a reward for this girl's rescue, is there not?” he asked.

  “There is,” Faerdor answered.

  “Well, as you're the one retrieving her; I think the profit should be accredited to our outpost,” the young man observed.

  “I agree, Nimree,” the captain nodded. “I entirely agree.”

  For hours, the party had ridden onward and the sun was near its zenith as they passed slowly into a narrow, rock-strewn valley. It seemed as if the earth had been torn apart at some earlier epoch. On both sides of the river, large cliffs of stone arose; hemming in a natural road perhaps a hundred feet wide.

  Sarena maneuvered her horse to the young knight's side and smiled at him.

  “Give me your shield, noble Telian, before I forget to attend to it again,” she said, holding out her hand.

  The young knight unquestioningly obeyed – although he had no idea what the sorceress intended to do. Sarena took the shield in her hands and examined it carefully. Only one of the two leather straps that were used to bind it to the young knight's arm was broken. Taking the ends in her grasp, she chanted softly to herself before removing her hands to reveal the perfectly restored strap.

  “Thank you!” the knight exclaimed, accepting his shield from her outstretched hands. “That's amazing!”

  “Yes, it is,” Kilren added, stretching himself with a yawn. “Just like magic.”

  “You know, fool, you truly are amusing,” the sorceress said with a light and merry laugh.

  “It seems we're not alone,” Erana suddenly observed, gazing into the distance ahead. “I see another band of riders.”

  “Can you make out the banner they bear?” Tealor asked the fair ranger as the distance closed between the two groups.

  “Not yet,” she said, staring intently at the party that approached them. “It looks to be an emblem in red and black.”

  “Then, those are Valrak's men,” the warrior nodded. “You can be certain of it.”

  “Well, then! Let's get out of here,” Kilren said immediately.

  “Where should we go, sweet fool?” Sarena asked. “On one hand a cliff, on another a river, behind us an enemy, and before us the unknown.”

  “You mean; before us another enemy,” he replied.

  “We can't be sure of that,” Tealor said, while at the same time loosening his sword in its sheath.

  Darian followed the warrior's example, as well as taking up his newly repaired shield.

  “Well, it seems to me that, if Galrin had her captured...” the rogue began.

  “We don't know that he did,” Tealor interrupted, “We only know that Gwendolyn's captors made that claim.”

  “I suppose that's true,” Kilren admitted. “Either way, we'll know in a moment; I guess.”

  The two groups slowly approached one another across the rock-
strewn valley. The five men riding toward the party were armored from head to toe. Their leader carried a long lance, from the top of which fluttered lord Valrak's notorious banner. Two of his men were armed with sword and shield, another with a prodigious great sword, and the last carried a crossbow. These were the tools of their trade and they bore them with such natural ease that it made the band seem both dark and menacing. Suddenly, without word or warning, the leader lowered his lance and spurred his powerful beast into a charge. His sword wielding companions followed his example, while the archer cocked his powerful crossbow.

  In an instant, Erana and Kilren fired at their enemies; each selecting a unique target. However, both attacks were defeated by the armor that covered their foes. Ian's bagpipe once again struck up a tune that was both powerful and menacing as Tealor kicked his horse into a gallop and flew across the stone covered path; heading directly for the enemy captain. The two clashed; each warrior's attack deflected by the shield of the other. One of the swordsman continued toward the other members of the party. However, flames leapt from the sorceress' outstretched hands, narrowly missing him and persuading him to check his charge and await the aid of his fellows.

  Darian also kicked his horse into a gallop, quickly coming to blows with the largest of their enemies. His foe drew back his prodigious two-handed sword and struck out at the young knight with all his strength. Darian, however, ducked to one side, holding his shield at such an angle as to deflect the force of the blow completely. This was the second time the Telian had faced such a fearful weapon and he was better prepared for it. However, another of the enemy band maneuvered behind the bold knight; pinning him neatly between two vicious enemies.

  Kilren glanced over the battlefield and observed the crossbowman aiming his deadly weapon steadily at Darian. He quickly loosed his bolt and struck the enemy archer squarely in the chest. Once again, though, the armor proved better than the arrow and the deadly projectile fell harmlessly to the ground. It did, however, attract the mercenary's attention. He quickly shifted his aim from the knight to the rogue. His weapon sang out its own deadly chord. Kilren reeled in the saddle with a bolt lodged in his shoulder. Immediately, he grabbed the shaft and tried to rip it from his flesh.