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

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  “I do,” she smiled. “The knight is actually a Telian.”

  “Is he?” the warden asked. “I've only ever met one other. And the dwarf?”

  “Ian McFaren,” she answered.

  “I thought so!” he snapped his fingers. “He has a wonderful voice, they say.”

  “He does,” Erana assured him. “He's also quite a storyteller.”

  “So I've heard,” Callin nodded.

  “They seem to have given us a warm reception,” Kilren observed, gazing ahead at Erana and the elvish warden at her side.

  “They would,” Ian replied, “Erana is a ranger. She has the right to go almost anywhere in Innalas and to take almost anyone she likes with her. As they're wardens, it's actually their duty to offer her any assistance they can.”

  “That's very thoughtful of them,” the rogue replied, still staring at the beautiful ranger. “But, I don't think we need an escort.”

  “We may not need an escort, but I'm glad to have one just the same,” Ian replied, pulling his pipe from his pocket and beginning to fill it. “If there are trolls in the area, I'd rather not run into them alone.”

  “Well, I suppose that's true...” Kilren conceded. “Still, I'd rather she was back here with us. If we run into trouble, she shouldn't be at the head of it.”

  “You didn't seem so concerned about it before we picked up our escort,” Ian observed with a grin before pausing to light his pipe.

  “I don't think I understand,” the maiden replied.

  “Look, Gwendolyn,” Darian said, staring into her eyes. “Everything I've done has been dictated by fate. Saving Kilren from himself, defeating your kidnappers, rescuing the village of Olinnor; all of it was meant to be. I couldn't have changed things had I wanted to.”

  “Would you change it if you could?” she asked.

  “Of course not!” the knight exclaimed. “But, that's not the point. I only did what I had to do. That doesn't make me a hero. I'm nothing more than the instrument of fate.”

  “I don't agree,” Gwendolyn replied, shaking her head. “You wanted to help Kilren, rescue me, and save Olinnor. That makes you a hero! Even if you were destined to succeed, that doesn't change the fact that you wanted to do the right thing!”

  “I'm afraid it does,” Darian replied. “Don't you see, Gwendolyn? Even my desires are ruled by destiny. Of course, I want what's right. It was written in the stars that I would. I can never be brave because I have nothing to fear. I can never be honest because I'm not able to lie. I can never be compassionate because I have nothing to sacrifice. Choice is what gives virtue its value. The rest of you can choose your path. I can't. I'll never be virtuous because I'll never have a choice.”

  “You're wrong about that, Darian,” Tealor asserted, stepping up to the Telian's side.

  “The warrior and his wife, you may also have heard of,” Erana continued. “Tealor and Sarena.”

  “No, I can't say that I have,” Callin replied. “Of course, I do spend a lot of time alone in the woods,” he laughed.

  “Well, they're mercenaries,” she said. “But, they both have gentle hearts, really.”

  “Who's the girl?” the warden asked, gazing once again over his shoulder.

  “Her name's Gwendolyn,” the ranger answered. “She's a sweet and remarkably brave maiden.”

  “What's she doing traveling with you?” Callin asked.

  “Oh,” Erana replied before hesitating a moment. “I guess you could say she's Sarena's apprentice.”

  “Ah, I see,” he nodded. “She still seems like a frail young thing to undertake such a journey.”

  “It wasn't that I wasn't aware of the danger before,” Kilren replied with a touch of temper in his voice. “But, I was right by her side. If anything had happened, I could have done something to protect her!”

  “Well, Callin probably knows what he's doing,” Ian said, releasing a cloud of smoke from his lungs. “And, it's not as if you're too far away to help her if something does befall us.”

  “Look at him!” Kilren said, glaring ahead. “He's laughing like an idiot; not paying attention to anything but her. He's going to lead us right into an ambush or something.”

  “I've never run into any trolls capable of setting an ambush,” Ian pointed out.

  “That's not the point!” the rogue exclaimed. “You always have to be on your guard. Not prancing and posing like some love-struck bird!”

  “Love-struck bird?” The dwarf grinned. “I'm not sure I would describe the warden in just those terms.”

  “What makes you think I'm wrong?” the knight asked, turning to his companion.

  “Everyone has a choice,” the warrior assured him. “It's called free will. Like I told you before; you were no more destined to save Olinnor than those men were destined to attack it. We all have free will. We can all choose our path.”

  “No,” Darian replied, shaking his head. “I agree that those men weren't destined for wickedness, but it's different with me. My fate was decided before I was born; my decisions written in the stars. I'm a Telian; we are led by destiny. We have no choice.”

  “Again, you're mistaken,” Tealor replied.

  “What makes you so sure?” Darian asked.

  “One undeniable truth,” Tealor answered with a wink.

  “That is?” Darian asked.

  “The fact that Valrak is also a Telian,” the warrior nodded.

  “No, he's not!” the young knight exclaimed.

  “Oh, but he is,” Tealor assured him. “And a very powerful one. He's a servant of Winrall. Ask Ian – or Andor, for that matter.”

  For a moment, Darian marched along in silence.

  “Are you certain of that?” he asked at last.

  “Fairly,” the warrior nodded. “Ian told me. We were discussing the warlord's rise to power. Anyway, my point is that Valrak wasn't destined to become what he is just because he's a Telian. The Eilian didn't force him to play the part of the villain.”

  “Well, we don't refer to the servants of Winrall as Telians, even though they wield the divine power.” Darian corrected. “Still, I see your point. They're not driven to his service by destiny. The Eilian would never force such service on anyone. They have a choice.”

  “I agree,” Tealor replied, laying a hand on the knight's shoulder. “They do have a choice – and so do you. You make too much of fate and destiny. You were born to be what you are, just like the rest of us. It's what we do with what we're given that matters. You and Valrak are different because of what you've chosen to do with your gifts. If you truly want to be a hero, you will be. Destiny can't give it to you, but it can't take it anyway, either.”

  “Thank you,” the knight replied. “You've given me a lot to think about.”

  “Anytime, Darian,” Tealor smiled. “Happy to be of help.”

  “What of the other young man?” Callin asked.

  “He's... I would say he was... Well, he's Kilren,” the ranger laughed, glancing back at the handsome rogue. “He's rather hard to describe, but he's a good companion; both trustworthy and valiant.”

  “Excellent. And, who is this?” the warden asked, reaching out to stroke Rragor's massive head.

  “Just a stray I picked up along the way,” she answered, patting the beast on his side.

  “That mangy animal's betrayed me again!” Kilren said, as he observed the wolf wagging its tail and licking Callin's hand.

  “Betrayed you?” Ian asked. “In what sense?”

  “In the sense that...” Here, the rogue paused for a moment. “Well, maybe ‘betrayed’ isn't the right word. If I get near her, he tries to tear my leg off. However, high warden popinjay here comes out of nowhere, and he's loving all over him!”

  “Well, elves do have a certain affinity for animals,” the bard observed. “Anyway, why don't you just speed up a bit and join them.”

  “Me... speed up so that I can...” the rogue forced a laugh. “Why would I want to do that, my friend? I was just making a
few observations about the military strategy behind the situation, that's all. I wouldn't want to intrude on their... their...” Kilren continued, waving his hand in front of him as he thought.

  “Their walking point at the head of this military column?” Ian asked with a hint of a laugh.

  “Exactly!” the young rogue agreed vehemently.

  The next few hours were filled, at least from Ian's perspective, with agitated outbursts and feigned indifference from the young rogue. However, like all of life's trials, the bard's finally came to an end. Just before the sun set, the party reached the very outskirts of Earlin and, having seen the party to safety, the wardens prepared to depart.

  “From here, you should be quite safe,” the leader of the elvish band said, smiling at Erana.

  “Thank you, Callin,” Erana nodded. “We appreciate your escort, although I'm glad it wasn't needed.”

  “As am I!” he agreed, giving the ranger a slight bow. “If you're ever in the area again, feel free to call on us in need.”

  “We will,” she assured him.

  With that, the wardens turned and quickly disappeared back into the woodlands from which they had emerged.

  To the untrained eye, the outskirts of the village appeared no different than the rest of the well maintained elvish wilderness that made up their roads. One might have noticed a large river stone laying here and there along the path, but no other clues readily revealed themselves to the stranger's eye. However, the frequency of those stones increased as the party strolled along until the path seemed almost paved with them.

  “So, I supposed you'll write high warden Callin as soon as you get the chance,” Kilren speculated, having resumed his position at Erana's side.

  “Oh,” the fair ranger replied, glancing over her shoulder in the direction the elvish band had taken less than an hour before. “I doubt it, honestly. He's not a high warden by the way, just a warden. Not that it matters. Anyway, what would I have to say?” she asked, with the hint of a laugh.

  “I just thought maybe you'd talk about woodland things,” the rogue said, seeming to consider the question.

  “We might if he and I were assigned to the same region,” she replied. “That's not likely, though. My father wouldn't want me this far away on a regular basis.”

  “Well, maybe you could talk about elf things,” the rogue said, pushing the point.

  “Elf things?” she asked, turning to him with a puzzled smile. “How many people do you write to about human things?”

  At this, Ian burst out in a quickly stifled laugh. As the two turned to look at him, he busied himself with emptying and refilling his pipe.

  “I just thought that, now that you've made the acquaintance, it would be a shame to lose it,” Kilren said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “Callin seems like such a nice guy.”

  “He is...” she agreed. “But, he's not much of a conversationalist. He talks enough, it's just not particularly interesting. I really prefer... other company...”

  “Oh...” the rogue replied. “Still, he's a nice guy, though.”

  “Oh, yes!” she said. “Very!”

  “Good of him to go out of his way to see us safely this far,” Kilren grinned.

  “It was!” Erana nodded.

  As the sun slowly sank and darkness filled the land, thousands of insects poured from their daytime homes to lite the night with their florescent glow. A hill rose along the side of the road that was covered with large flowering bushes and fruit trees, the blooms of which had all closed for the night. As the party passed around its foot, a little hamlet came suddenly into view.

  For those that had never seen an elvish village, the sight was almost breathtaking. A number of large and ancient trees stood at the very center of Earlin. Around – and among – them, the populace had built their homes. Some stood on the ground and appeared much as human houses do; though they seemed lighter and more frail somehow. Others were woven within the branches of the trees and had ornate staircases that led to the ground, while wooden walkways joined the tree borne homes together. Still other dwellings were dug into the sides of the hills of the surrounding area. The glow of countless insects joined with the lights that permeated the village; presenting a scene of seamless coexistence.

  “This is one of our villages,” Erana said, smiling at Kilren. “What do you think?”

  “Amazing!” he almost whispered.

  The party continued straight toward the very center of the little hamlet and were quickly met by one of the village elders and his escort.

  “I am Malrous,” the aging elf said as he and his guards approached the party. “How can we help you?”

  “Good Father,” Erana said, bowing politely to the elder. “We come seeking shelter for the night.”

  “Then, you will have it, my daughter,” he smiled. “However, I must ask what brings you to such a place at such a time.”

  “That's her father?” Kilren whispered quietly to Ian as the two elves talked.

  “No, of course not,” Ian replied, shaking his head. “That's just the way they speak to their elders. Maybe, you could learn something from it.”

  “Yes, good Father,” the rogue nodded.

  “I may be both old enough and wise enough to be your father,” the dwarf chuckled quietly, “but, I'm far too handsome.”

  Erana quickly explained their purpose; glossing over any details that might best be kept private. As soon as she had finished speaking, Malrous invited the band to follow him to one of their common houses. There, they would make arrangements for the night. The building they were led to was one built upon the ground. It was a large round structure with a single great room that filled a majority of the building. Ornate carvings covered almost every inch of the walls and floors and the ceiling was painted to look like a slightly overcast sky, with the sun shining through the clouds. The common theme of the carvings were scenes of natural beauty although, here and there, the artists had chosen to depict images of the hunt and even of battle. The room was filled with a number of tables and chairs. In its very center, there was a massive fire pit surrounded by benches directly below a hole in the roof.

  It was so rare an occasion that so many non-elvish visitors found their way to Earlin that the elder called for a feast. A fire was quickly lit and the matrons of the hamlet were soon preparing the meal. Ian, who had been recognized by more than one of the villagers, was led to a bench beside the fire. He sat, surrounded by children, telling stories of days long past and singing songs that moved the very soul. Tealor and his bride were only a short distance away, enjoying the entertainment their dwarvish companion provided, while at the same time discussing local politics with a number of the older elves. Erana and Gwendolyn were asked to take a seat beside the cooking matrons who asked for the story of the party's coming to Earlin.

  Kilren and Darian had intended to spend the evening at the side of the bard but they were quickly surrounded by the fair maidens of the village and were led to a table a short distance from the rest of their party. The knight waited patiently for the ladies to be seated and the rogue was observant enough to follow his friend's example. However, after a moment, the fairest of their captors insisted that they take their seats.

  “Tonight, we ladies will wait on you,” she began, as the other maidens giggled girlishly around her. “You've journeyed far and are doubtlessly weary. We're well rested and more than happy to make you comfortable. I am Cellias,” the maiden smiled. “I'll make sure you want for nothing. What would you like to drink?”

  Erana glanced across the room to see Kilren and his friend surrounded by a large group of fair ladies. She quickly turned her head back to the cooking elves surrounding her and tried to take up the thread of a conversation that had been driven from her mind. Again, she gazed behind her; this time speaking almost involuntarily.

  “You would think he'd have sat with us,” she observed.

  “I know,” Gwendolyn immediately agreed, staring in the same direction. “I wa
s thinking the same thing.”

  “It's just like men, really,” the ranger whispered to her companion. “They go off to be pampered while we're supposed to help with the cooking!”

  “As if we aren't just as tired as they are!” the maiden pointed out.

  “Absolutely!” the ranger agreed.

  “Thank you very much! I guess I would like...” Darian began before he was interrupted by his hostess.

  “Aren't you uncomfortable in all that armor?” the beautiful elf asked.

  “Well, really I'm...” the Telian attempted to reply.

  “Stand up!” she said in a tone that defied disobedience.

  Immediately, the knight did as he was bidden. As soon as he was on his feet, Cellias and her fair company began to unbuckle the knight's armor piece by piece and pulled it from his body.

  “Thank you...” the young Telian stammered, “but, honestly...”

  “Sir Darian, don't be ungallant!” Cellias said, silencing his protests before he could make them.

  The maiden reached for his sword belt but, this, the knight could not allow.

  “Forgive me, madam,” he said firmly. “But only I or my bride may remove my sword.”

  “Well...” the maiden said, staring at him with a mischievous grin. “I'm afraid I haven't known you long enough to accept your offer of marriage but, I'm very flattered.”

  “I only meant...” he began.

  “No, no, I'm afraid not, my worthy knight,” she grinned knowingly. “Perhaps one day, but not tonight. For now, you'll have to remove that belt yourself.”

  This statement was met with peals of laughter from the surrounding ladies, as well as Kilren. In silence, the Telian removed his sword belt and handed it to one of his beautiful attendants. Another of the fair band had stepped up behind the rogue and began to gently rub his shoulders.