"We're here," Pallas announced as they came to a pair of big wooden doors. Pushing the modestly decorated doors aside, he led the way into the room. The room was brightly lit and was dominated by a large rectangular table. Count Murray, Lord Macay, and the druid, Faynn, sat around the table. As the four friends entered the room, the three seated men lifted their eyes towards them. Count Murray frowned. Dovan Murray had requested Elwin's presence, but he had not asked his friend's presence as well. Pallas smiled awkwardly. He knew his father's looks. He also knew his father would now ask them to leave, but it was worth the chance. Pallas did not want to miss out. It looked as if Elwin was about to set off on an adventure, and Pallas was determined to be included.
"They insisted on coming, father," Pallas offered as an excuse.
Dovan Murray nodded his head towards the door. "Out you go."
Aidan frowned, and Colin scowled. Pretending the words were not meant for him, Pallas took a seat.
"That means you too, young man," Dovan said with the authority of a father. "Aww, can't I stay?" asked Pallas.
"No!"
"But..."
"Out!"
Pallas grumbled something about always being left out. Nevertheless, he stood up and followed Aidan and Colin back through the door, slamming it shut behind him.
Elwin looked at each of the men. Lord Rodan, Count Murray, and Faynn returned his stare. There was a tension in the air, and Elwin became uneasy under their somber eyes. Something was wrong. Lord Rodan looked angry. His arms were crossed stiffly over his chest, and he appeared like a volcano about to blow. Count Dovan Murray frowned. His brow was wrinkled, and he seemed deeply worried about something. Faynn, as normal could not be read. His face was flat and without a trace of emotion. Whatever might stir behind his gray piercing eyes, the druid kept to himself. Elwin brushed a long lock of brown hair from his face and silently slid into the chair at the end of the table. Dovan looked down the table at Elwin, "Thank you for coming, your Highness." Highness? thought Elwin. Something is wrong.
"As you can probably guess," Dovan went on. "We have been discussing what should be done to assure your safety. Faynn here," Dovan gave the druid a short nod, "has been trying to convince me that Reidh is no longer a safe place for you."
Lord Rodan looked at Elwin. Over the past few years, he and Rodan had become close. The tall dark-haired and olive skinned lord had become like an uncle or older brother to the prince. The lord smiled weakly and gave Elwin a wink as if to say it was not him he was angry at.
"The question is,” continued Dovan, “are you truly in any danger? And if so, where should you go? My inclination is to agree that you are no longer safe here. The sooner you are away from here the better."
Rodan' voice was as flat as Faynn's face. "I still think the wisest choice is to wait until the passes open. The seas are too rough, and the harbor is watched both night and day."
"The mountain passes are not going to open up," Faynn said as if that should be obvious to everyone. Rodan scowled across the table at him.
"What do you mean?" asked Dovan. "Surely spring is coming soon. Never have I seen such storms this late in the year. The weather must break soon."
"As long as Elwin remains here, so will the winter storms." Faynn folded his hands on the table before him. "As you have said, they are unseasonably late, even for Reidh. The reason is that these storms are not natural. Dark forces are at work, creating the storms. Our enemies hope to keep Elwin trapped in Reidh until he can be captured."
"That's ridiculous," snapped Rodan. It was evident to all that Rodan disliked Faynn.
Ignoring the angry lord, Faynn went on. "What I am about to tell you must not leave this room. Elwin and his three friends already know. But it is best not to talk about such things. The less that rumors and fears are spread, the better. Dark forces are once more at work in the kingdoms of Kambrya. The Dark Overlord has awakened. Beli is attempting to free himself from his prison of Ban-Darn. The Dark Overlord wishes to return to the world of the living. The wars are just a tool to reach this end." As Faynn named the evil one, Elwin thought he saw and felt a shadow cross the room. The Count seemed to also notice it, as his face darkened.
"You are talking about myths!" retorted Rodan. "Storms can be nothing more than storms. I don't have to create demons and monsters to explain snow. The Dark Overlord is only a story to scare children and entertain old men, nothing more."
"Are these storms that will not leave normal'?" asked Faynn. Not waiting for Rodan to answer, Faynn went on answering his own question. "No, they are not. Are the troubles spreading throughout Kambrya myths? Again, the answer is no. I tell you that a Prophet by the name of Torcull is behind the storms and the evil that is sweeping across the land. You no doubt have heard that the Severed Head has returned to Kambrya. Torcull is the hand that moves the cult of darkness. He has become a servant of the Dark Overlord. An evil that once poisoned the lands has been reborn. Torcull now rules Strigiol. The true king is nothing but a puppet. It is Torcull who is behind the wars and bloodshed. His ultimate goal is to have Elwin's sword. If he succeeds, he will free his master, and then these hard times will seem like the 'good old days'."
"It's true," Elwin added. "Torcull wants my sword. It is the Sword of Light and Darkness!"
"Sword of Light and Darkness!?" Rodan exclaimed angrily. "More myths! Do not be fooled Elwin. Your sword is nothing more than the metal it was forged from."
Rodan turned to Faynn. "Stop trying to scare the boy! And fill his head with myths and lies.”
"There is good reason to be scared," Faynn stated bluntly, "as Prince Elwin already knows." Faynn’s voice staying ever calm despite Rodan’s ever growing anger.
Rodan leaned forward. His fists were clenched, his face red. But before the lord could say what he was thinking, Dovan slapped the table, cutting Rodan off. "Rodan, that is enough!" Dovan snapped. Then the count turned to Faynn. "If this Torcull controls King Jerran as you say, then he not only rules all of Strigiol but most of Kambrya as well. If this is true, then why would he want Elwin's sword? What more could he want? What good would a sword do for him?"
"Power," said Faynn. "Unlimited power. It is as Elwin has said. The sword is Saran na Grain, the Sword of Light and Darkness." Dovan seemed to flinch at the name.
"There is a prophecy," Faynn went on. "The prophecy says that one day Beli will return. And it is said that he who wields the Sword will free the Dark Overlord. And whether you believe it or not, Torcull does. He wants Prince Elwin's sword." Faynn nodded towards Elwin. "And Torcull will do whatever he has to, to get it." Elwin swallowed.
Dovan's eyes darkened, as if a distant memory had passed before him. The count looked down at the floor and became suddenly quiet.
"There is no Overlord," insisted Rodan. "Are we going to run from a children’s story?"
"If the story was about the Dark Overlord? Yes, I would run,” said Faynn. "I would run as fast and as far as my feet would carry me."
Elwin shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "I have seen Torcull and the Red Robe." His voice sounded soft and weak as if he were unsure if he should speak among these men. After all, he was still just a youth, yet he was also a prince and the heir apparent to the Ceredigion thrown. "The Red Robe, the Nightling attacked me. Torcull has appeared to me in my …. dreams. I know it sounds foolish, and I cannot explain it, but they were not ordinary dreams, he was really there. He scares me more than the Red Robe," Elwin admitted. "I have felt Torcull's hate and have seen firsthand what a Nightling is like and what it can do." Elwin wrapped his arms tightly around himself. "I don't know if the sword can do what Faynn says it can. I am not sure if it is a magic blade or only steel. I have never seen or felt anything unusual. It appears to be just a regular sword. But it was my father's, and I want to keep it. If for no other reason, I will keep it because Torcull wants it."
"It is wise to fear," Faynn said. "It is a fool who has seen what you have and is not afraid. Be afraid, young prince. In t
he end, that may be all that stands between life and death."
"Magic!" said Rodan, as if the word was a curse. "I have heard that magic users can alter one's dreams. And I do not believe in this Red Robe’s powers. The monk is just one more of your druid tricks." Rodan' voice rang like steel striking steel. "Talk of this Red Robe is all over town. But where is this Red Robe now? I have seen nothing of him. Nor has anyone else since the druid left."
With an accusing tone, Rodan looked directly at Faynn. "In fact, no one has seen him except a few, and they were in the Dryrot Inn with you. I think you created an illusion to scare the prince here into trusting you. However, if there truly was a Red Robe, he is gone now. All that is left are Strigiol soldiers. They are the true danger to Elwin."
"Exactly," cut in Dovan. The count had an expression of a man who had made up his mind. He looked up from the table. Ignoring what Rodan was trying to suggest, Dovan went on. "I do not need to believe in robed demons, evil Prophets, or the Dark Overlord to recognize that Elwin is in trouble. Yet, I must admit there is some truth to what Faynn says." Rodan' mouth dropped open. Dovan raised a hand silencing Rodan, as he went on. "King Artair, Elwin's father, and my friend told me of this sword. He told me long ago that it was called Saran na Grian. He went on to tell me that the sword was a curse on his family and a key to darkness and that he and his ancestors had been given the responsibility to guard it and keep it from falling into the wrong hands. It had been passed down a long line of Ceredigion kings. Each king takes on the responsibility to guard Saran na Grian and to never let it fall into the hands of the servants of Biel."
“I asked him how a sword can be a key, but he would not or could not answer. However, I know it was a great burden to him. But even worse was that he knew that one day he would have to pass that burden on to his son." His eyes softened as they fell on Elwin. Elwin's eyes were moist. "He planned to tell you, son." the count's voice faltered, "but he always thought... there would be time, but..." his voice then trailed off.
After a moment of silence, the count found his voice again. "At the time, I did not know what Artair meant by the sword being a key, nor am I really sure I do now, but that does not matter. There are Strigiol soldiers here in Reidh and more are coming. That I am certain of, and they are searching for you, Elwin. And yes, perhaps the sword you carry."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The monastery bell chimed. Elwin woke with a start. It was already well past midnight. With the last ring of the bell, Elwin realized he was going to be late. He threw off his covers and leaped from his bed. The room was cold, dark, and silent. Elwin tried to shake off his drowsiness. "I have to hurry," he mumbled to himself.
Using the hot embers from the fireplace, Elwin lit a lamp. The flickering flame took away the darkness and chased away the shadows. However, the room was still cold from the night. As Elwin shivered, he prepared for the long day ahead. Feeling the cold stone floor beneath his naked feet, he placed the lamp down upon the small wooden table next to the bed and pulled on his pants and boots. From a ceramic basin, he began washing himself, cupping the cold water in his hands to splash his face. The water was shockingly cold. Gasping for breath, he quickly washed and dried himself. Now wide awake, Elwin began to hurry, using a wooden comb, he pulled the tangles out of his long brown hair. Satisfied, he set the comb down and finished dressing. Feeling a little warmer and ready to face the day, Elwin gathered together his few belongings. Laying out his coarse brown woolen blanket, he placed his spare clothing, a book titled 'Perun's Travels through Kambrya', a book on Aleach, and a map of Cluain. The books and map he had found in the monastery's library. Then he took off his insignia ring and placed it into a small pouch that hung at his side. When he had finished, he rolled the blanket into a tight bundle and tied it with a piece of twine. Setting the bundle down upon the bed's edge, he strapped on his sword. The bell tolled again, reminding him how late he was. Hurrying faster, he gathered his bundle under his arm. Covering a yawn with the back of his hand, he reached into his pouch and dropped a few coins onto the table, hoping it would cover the expense of the books and the map. Next to the coins, he carefully placed a note addressed to Count Murray. Elwin stared down at the note. It was so little after all the count had done for him. Elwin had written it the night before, explaining why he had to leave. He only hoped the count would understand and forgive him. He hesitated for only a moment, then grabbing the lamp from the table, he turned and crossed the room. Taking a deep breath, Elwin pushed at the door. It creaked open. Nervously, Elwin swallowed. The door seemed so loud. He poked out his head out and looked down the long narrow hallway. No one was there. The hall was as dark and quiet as his room. Without wasting any more time, he carefully closed the door behind him and hurried off down the hallway. He quickly passed through the monastery. Stopping before a large door, he listened. Nothing. Closing the shutters to his lamp, he opened the door and stepped outside. The still air felt cold against his face. Before him was a small courtyard. It was plain and had only a few barren fruit trees in it. In the spring the monks would plant a vegetable garden here, but for now, it was covered in a layer of snow. At the far end of the yard stood the monastery's stable. The barn was dark and quiet. Elwin wondered if the others had made it out yet. Maybe he wasn't late after all.
Still standing in the doorway, Elwin hid in the shadows until he was sure that he was alone. At this late an hour, there was little chance that anyone would be in the courtyard, but Elwin saw no point in taking any risks. One of the monastery's brothers unable to sleep just might be looking out his window, and the courtyard offered few places to hide. The trees were bare and would provide little cover, yet it was a dark cloudy night, and a few snowflakes were beginning to fall. Finally satisfied that he was alone, Elwin pulled his hood up over his head and started across the courtyard. The courtyard seemed a lonely place. Twice Elwin stopped and looked over his shoulder. In the dark, the courtyard looked like a deserted garden of a dead and haunted castle. Elwin shivered and hurried on. The silence of the courtyard made him feel uneasy. It was as if he were being watched.
From above, the lifeless trees looked down on Elwin as he passed below. A branch creaked. Elwin started to run. Making it across the courtyard, he turned. Standing with his back to the stable doors, he panted heavily. The cold air made his lungs sting. He glanced over the courtyard. It appeared a menacing place, and Elwin could almost feel eyes staring out of the shadows.
Fool! he thought to himself, there is nothing out there. But still, he could not shake the feeling.
Trying to convince himself, Elwin whispered, "There's no one out there." Then he slipped inside the stable doors. He closed the door and threw down the latch. He sighed, and then smiled to himself. Now that he was inside, he felt foolish and was glad that there had been no one to see him running from shadows and trees. It was warmer inside the stable, and the smell of straw and manure was strong. Elwin turned away from the door. Somewhere deeper in the stable, he heard a horse nicker. He took a step further into the stable.
"Pallas?... Aidan?... Colin?” Elwin called out. For a moment there was no reply. Then a light flashed in his face.
Holding up a lantern, Pallas stepped out from behind a haystack. Seeing Elwin, he gave a relieved sigh. He rolled his eyes up.
"Don't do that!” stated Elwin “You nearly scared me to death!"
"Okay, you can come out," Pallas called. "It's only Elwin."
Aidan and Colin dropped out of the hay loft. Brushing straw from their clothing, the two jumped down and joined Elwin and Pallas.
"What took you so long?" demanded Pallas. "We have been waiting here for nearly an
hour. We thought you had been caught, and that father was coming to drag us all back inside."
Elwin mumbled something about Lord Rodan keeping him up late and needing some extra sleep.
Nearby, four horses nickered and pranced nervously about the straw covered floor. They were saddled and ready to go. Elwin took the reins Pallas o
ffered him and said with a yawn, "We'd better hurry. Did you get the supplies?"
"Sure did," replied Pallas with his wry smile. "Aidan and I did a little pilfering last night." He gave the Elf a broad smile, "But we still got here on time. Unlike those of us who needed to sleep."
"Not funny," returned Elwin.
Aidan patted the side of his saddle bags. "We did not want to take a lot, but we should have enough food to get us to Jon's boat, plus a little extra."
Giving Pallas a look, Aidan then added, "And we didn't actually steal it. We left some money behind."
"More than enough, if you ask me," Pallas replied, disgruntled. "We don't have all that much money."
"We can worry about money later," said Elwin as he began to tie his bundle behind his mount's saddle. The horse was a lean, powerful looking animal. The chestnut horse seemed as anxious to be on its way as Elwin did. With pride in its big brown eyes, the stallion shook his cream-colored mane and watched Elwin as if judging whether this youth was worthy of him or not. Stepping into the stirrups, Elwin swung his leg up over the chestnut's back and settled into the worn leather saddle. It was only then that Elwin realized he was seated upon Count Murray's prized horse. A quick glance around the stable revealed that there were no others horses around. Elwin frowned. All the stalls stood open and empty. Yet the day before there had been nine or ten horses.
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