"An army of hobgoblins and trolls," added Imrich. "There must be over ten thousand."
"How can there be so many? We have never seen more than a few hundred gathered together before. Where did they come from?"
Imrich shrugged. "I do not know. Nevertheless, they are here, and they seem to be working together. I have never heard of hobgoblins and trolls getting along. These are indeed strange times and getting stranger all the time."
"You’re right,” agreed Ruan, “trolls and hobgoblins don't get along. They are at war with each other more often than they are with Kambrya. Trolls generally won't live with more than a few others of their own kind, much less than thousands of hobgoblins."
"Well," whispered Imrich, "they seem to have solved their differences and have formed themselves into an army."
A look of horror crossed Ruan's face. "Oh, Lord. They are coming down the pass. They're marching for Strigiol aren't they?"
"That would be my guess," answered Imrich with a quick nod of his head.
Ruan crawled back off the ridge. His eyes still were wide with shock. "I have to return to Keloran."
Imrich's eyes narrowed as he sat down next to the lord. "What are you talking about?" "Imrich, that army is marching for Strigiol! Jerran is gathering the Strigiol army in the south to invade Mythra. There is no one between Gildas and us. Other than Keloran and maybe a thousand men of the Black Army, there is no one to stop them, and that will never be enough to stop this army. They have to be warned."
"By you!? They won't listen to you. They’ll kill you before you can get two words out of your mouth. Besides, who would believe that a troll and hobgoblin army is invading Kambrya.”
"They have to! Imrich, if I can get them to believe me, something might be done. As it is, Keloran is already lost. There is nothing that can be done to save our city. However, if those thousand Black soldiers in Keloran are prepared they may be able to slow down the invasion. Word can be sent to the king, and he can recall the army from the south. If I do nothing, the Black Army will be trapped inside Keloran. Half of Strigiol could fall before the end of summer."
"They will not believe you and even if they do, you will still be as good as dead. Once they get their hands on you, they're not going to let go."
"I know, but I have to go. This army has to be stopped. I cannot imagine the horrors that will happen if they are not. An army of trolls and hobgoblins set loose in Strigiol? It is a nightmare!"
"Send me... I can tell them as well as you."
Ruan shook his head. "I will do it. We all have to start back anyway. That army will be marching this way. There is no way around them. And I need you to protect the others. Once we're out of the mountains, try to slip past Keloran and get everyone to Mythra. The Queen of Mythra will protect them."
"Even if we can make it back, Mythra is a long way. There are not many of us left, Ruan. We might not make it."
"I know, but there is no other place of safety. Please, Imrich, promise me you will protect my family."
"I will try. But what about your dream and the city? I never really believed it could be here, but are you willing to give it up?"
"I can't find it, Imrich," Ruan sighed. "We have been searching everywhere. If I can't find the waterfalls, I don't think we will ever find the city. I don't know, maybe you're right. Maybe it was just a dream. What I do know is, that army is real and if I don't do something, half of Strigiol will be destroyed. I still love my country, Imrich. I can't stand by and do nothing."
The sun was just coming up when Ruan and Imrich returned to camp. Ruan had expected to find most of his party still asleep. Yet everyone, even the young prince, was up. Gathered around the fire, everyone stared down at something. An eerie silence filled the camp. Hesitantly, Ruan stepped forward. He felt his chest tighten. He knew this silence too well. Off to one side laid the body of a troll. Another attack and another one of his men killed. He approached the circle, pushing his way through, he found Catriono kneeling over a bloodied body. She was administering first aid. A lump formed in Ruan's throat. He stopped short and tried to swallow. So much blood. Ruan's stomach sank. Another of his men was dying. He wanted to cry out, yet he did not, knowing that he had to keep up an image for the rest of the party. Responsibility. The word felt like a curse. He could feel eyes on him . . .waiting . . .hoping, and believing that somehow Ruan would lead them out of this nightmare. It was what kept these men going.
"Is he...?" The word dead stuck in his throat.
"No," replied the queen. She looked up over her shoulder. "He will live. He has a broken arm, but nothing more, in time he will heal. The blood is not his own, but that of the troll. He is a very brave man.”
Ruan nodded and silently gave a thankful prayer. The man would live. That was something.
Catriono shifted, and Ruan saw the man's face. He gasped. Stepping back, he half drew his sword. "A Black Elf! A Yorn!" This was not one of his men, but a Yorn!
In a flash, Catriono was on her feet. Squaring her shoulders, her dark eyes bore into Ruan's. She looked like a mother bear protecting her cub. "Stop that!" she snapped. "Can't you see he is wounded?!”
“Catriono, he is an Elf a Black Elf!”
“I don’t care what he is,” she snapped angrily. “This man saved my life. The troll he killed would have killed me! Me, Ruan! That thing acted as if it knew who I was." She pointed at the dead troll. "It was about to club me to death. No one even saw the troll until it was standing over me. She pointed towards the wounded man. "If he had not appeared when he did, I would be ..." She left the rest unspoken, but it was clearly understood. "Do you hear me, Ruan? You will not hurt this man! I am still your queen."
Ruan did not answer. He could only stare down at the face of the man, if one could indeed call him a man. He had the ears and features of an Elf, but rather than Green eyes and blond hair of the Woodland Elves of the Green, he had dark features. From a life spent in the sun, his skin was a golden bronze color, and his narrow eyes were as dark as his long black hair. Ruan's own eyes were wide open. He could not believe what he was seeing, and it was more than just facing a legendary Black Elf stepping right out of myths and into the world. Ruan had seen this face before. In Gildas, he had seen those dark eyes staring up out of Torcull's strange magical well. But that was just an illusion. It was a trick of the Dark Prophet. Even with the man lying before him, Ruan found it hard to believe. The mountain Elves were nothing more than legends and myths. They were said to be creatures born of magic. Creatures that were nothing more than tall tales spoken on cold dark winter nights. "A Mountain Elf," he mumbled in amazed disbelief. It was impossible.
The Elf blinked, slowly he sat up carefully cradling his broken arm in the sling the queen had made from her torn dress. Cringing in pain, the Elf looked up at Ruan. "Rathad," he exclaimed. The Black Elf had a strange accent, but he spoke in the Kambryan language. "You have come. I am the last of the searchers, and at last, I have found you."
"What gibberish is this?" asked Ruan sounding angry. "His mind is rattled."
"At last, you have come,” the Black Elf went on as if he had not heard Ruan at all, “Now that it is too late. The army has cut you off from the city. It is too late. Even you, Rathad, cannot save us.”
"You say you have been looking for me..." Ruan stopped in mid-sentence and dropped to his knees. "Did you say a city? A city with great stone walls!?" A city of Elves? Oh My, by the Three Gods, did you say a city?!”
The Elf nodded. "Yes. It is my home, it is called Cearcall."
Ruan grabbed him by the shoulders. "And a waterfall... Is there a waterfall nearby? One with a small pond, a cliff, and an ancient stone bridge and road?”
"Ruan!" snapped Catriono, "Stop it! You're hurting him." Ruan ignored her protest.
"Yes," the Elf answered at last. "There is a small fall not far from here, but it is on this side of a great cliff. It will not help us reach the city. The Satrie knew you would come, and he has blocked the pass."
&
nbsp; "Satrie?" Ruan shook his head. Half of what the man said made no sense, but maybe the dream was real after all. If so, perhaps he could find a place where there was safety. Then he could return to Keloran without having to worry about the others. "The waterfalls! Where is it?" There was an almost desperation to his voice.
The Elf shook his head, "There is no way past the Great Cliff. The road you speak of lies at the end of a boxed canyon. Once there we will be trapped. From the bridge, the road runs in two directions, East and West, and it runs along this side of the Great Cliff. To the west, the road will take you all the way to the Iar Sea and dead ends high above the cliffs overlooking the sea. To the east, it will not bring you beyond the great cliff, but just into a boxed canyon. No one understands why such a useless road was ever built. It is far older than the Yorn's histories and remains a great mystery.”
"There is a way past the cliff, it lies above the bridge and the road to the east,“ insisted Ruan. "Just tell me where the canyon is. There is a way. I have seen it.”
The Elf's eyes widened. "You are Rathad, the Pathfinder, and so it must be. I will show you."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Great Plains of Aleach was a vast silent land. The Aleach called the Great Plains home, yet to Elwin, it was a lonely place. He could only imagine how Aidan must feel. Aidan was an Elf who had been raised in the wooded forest of the Green. The Green teamed with all types of life, so here among the silence of the High Plans, Aidan felt lost. Jokingly, Aidan had begun calling the plains, "a prison without bars." The Aleach, however, did not find it funny. Flat, barren, and dry, Aleach was a harsh place, yet Elwin had to admit this land was not without its beauty. In its vast open plains, one had the space to be free. For the first time since leaving Reidh County, Elwin did not fear that a Red Robe was sneaking up behind him. In Aleach, there was no place for them to hide. Elwin was also sleeping better. He had still not completely mastered the magic that would protect his dreams, so Faynn continued to share his tent at night, keeping the profit and his red robes away from the dreams of the Prophet. However, he was slowly learning the ways of Earth Magic. And the time spent with the druid was slowly bringing the two together.
Elwin licked his dry lips. Under the relentless heat of the sun, he always seemed to be thirsty. Taking up the leather water bag that hung from his saddle horn, he wet his lips and took a small sip. He held the sweet tasting water in his mouth a short time before swallowing. In this dry land, water was a rarity and had to be used sparingly. Carefully re-corking the water bag, he let it slowly back down.
Yes, the Prince thought to himself. This is a vast and lonely land. Yet it is here I have found peace. In this starkly beautiful land, Elwin breathed in the dry air and smiled. It was here, for the first time in many weeks, Elwin was not haunted by his dreams nor chased by Nightlings.
For that peace, Elwin would always appreciate the vastness of the plains.
It had been nearly a week since they had last seen a watering hole, and Faraj, the leader of the Aleach escort, said they would see no more water until they reached the Karr al-Isma. They were now in what the Aleach called the Deep Plains. In the Deep Plains, life was extremely hard and harsh, few animals could survive, and it virtually never rained.
"How do the grasses manage to survive?" Elwin wondered out loud.
"What?" asked Colin, riding, as always, next to Elwin. Colin, Elwin’s self-appointed bodyguard, was never far from the prince's side.
"The grasses. They are browner out here in the Deep Plains, yet they are still alive. How can it survive with no rain?"
"I don't know. Maybe you should ask Faraj."
"Ha!" retorted Elwin. "I would rather ask a Nightling,"
Colin smiled. "Faraj is indeed an unhappy man."
"With a hot temper," added Elwin. "He is always complaining that we outsiders are drinking more than our fair share of the water. It is not true."
"I could say something to him."
"No. We need the Aleach. We won’t make it to the Karr al-Isma without them, and Faraj is their leader."
Staring up ahead, Elwin watched Faraj. Mounted upon his tall noble gray horse, Faraj was leading the party across the High Plains. He was always up in front, leading the way. It was one of the reasons Elwin stayed near the rear. The dark-skinned leader of their party had a face as dry and as hard as the plains and the personality to match. His black eyes, which appeared to be too closely placed together, were separated by a large hooked shaped nose, making him look like a bird of prey that had just discovered a snake hiding in its nest. Faraj spent most of his time scowling, and he had even less of a sense of humor than Lord Rodan if that was possible.
"I do not like the way he treats Lord Rodan," stated Colin. "It is not right."
Elwin nodded in agreement. "The Aleach do not hide their feelings well, and Faraj is no exception.”
"He does not like us much, but he downright hates Lord Rodan. You are the only one he will even talk to."
"It is only because he has to talk to me. But I know what you mean. He won't even look at Rodan. Faraj acts as if he does not exist. Whenever Rodan asks him something, Faraj will answer to me, as if it was I who had spoken."
"Why is that?"
Unsure, Elwin shrugged. "We are outsiders. I think that is enough of a reason for Faraj."
Rodan isn't. He is half Aleach."
"True. But Lord Rodan has a reputation. He is an outcast of sorts."
"I still do not like it. It’s not right.”
"Nor do I. The truth is, I do not care if Faraj likes me or not, but it angers me the way Rodan's own people are treating him. The Aleach entirely ignore him. In camp, they even go so far as to turn their backs on him when he passes. Though at times, I have noticed that some of the Aleach turn away a little slower than others. I am not sure what that might mean. I have talked to Rodan about it. I even told him that I was going speak to Faraj and tell him to knock it off and order his men to stop behaving like children. I would have too if Lord Rodan had not stopped me."
"What did, Lord Rodan say?"
"He told me it would do no good. He stated that he was Isham. If I understand the word right, Isham means 'one who is shunned.' Anyway, Lord Rodan said that I cannot afford to anger or offend Faraj. Zafra Pasha is far from here, and he cannot help us now. We need the Aleach and Faraj""
Colin shook his head. "Some of these people are Lord Rodan’s' relatives, and they openly insult him, and he does nothing. It is as if it doesn’t matter to him."
Elwin shook his head. "Don't be fooled. It matters. I have known Lord Rodan a long time. He might not say so, but it bothers him. The lord lives by a unique set of rules and codes of honor. It must be complicated to be half Aleach and half Kambryan."
"It is especially hard for Pallas."
"I know," agreed Elwin, "Rodan is like one of Pallas' older brothers. Pallas finds it hard to just stand by and watch."
Colin laughed, "Actually, Pallas is not standing by, he has already gotten into a few fights. It is becoming hard to keep his hot head out of trouble."
Sitting upon the silvery black back of his stallion, Elwin started out across the flat plains. Gently, he stroked the horse's thick dark main. The horse had been a gift from Zafra Pasha, and it had been the pride of the Sheik's corral. Elwin realized that the gift of this proud horse was a great honor. In time, Elwin had given his horse a new name. To honor his host, he had chosen an Aleach name, Sah-Ib. Sah-Ib in Aleach meant Black Wind. Pleased by the name Elwin had chosen, Zafra had slapped the prince on the back and said it was a proper and noble name.
"What are you thinking?" asked Colin.
Elwin smiled. "Zafra Pasha. I wish he were here."
Colin always became concerned when Elwin became quiet. Nowadays, Colin rarely left his side for any length of time and only then to continue his lessons in swordsmanship from Kayno. Colin was an uncomplicated person. He lived a life that was organized by a strict code of ethics. Elwin admired his friend an
d the way he saw the world. To Colin the world was divided into two types of people, good and evil, things were either black or they were white; it made life easier. Kayno, on the other hand, was anything but simple, and he remained a mystery to Elwin. There was no reason for him to be here. A Cluain out tramping across the dry plains of Aleach. It made no sense.
"I wish he could be here, too," admitted Colin. "Zafra Pasha would put Faraj in his place."
Twisting in his saddle, Elwin found Kayno. Like Colin, Kayno was never too far off, yet he never came very close to the prince either. "Yes, he would," the price mumbled as he thought about Kayno.
Kayno looked like a mercenary. He sat up straight in his saddle refusing to remove his worn leather armor despite that it had to be terribly uncomfortable in this unforgiving heat. He always looked nervous, and he was constantly looking over his shoulder, watching for the Caliph's men who had been following them since leaving Caiplich. Absentmindedly, the mercenary ran a hand along the hilt of his sword. The long narrow blade hung over his saddle horn where he could easily reach it if needed.
"You don't trust him?" asked Colin seeing were Elwin was looking.
"Who? Ned? I mean Kayno?"
The mercenary looked over his shoulder again. He acted like a man just before a battle. Nervous. It was obvious he did not like being shadowed by a potential enemy. They had all known they would be followed. Elwin had wanted the Caliph's men to follow him across the plains. Still, Kayno did not like having enemies this close. They outnumbered them three to one, and in the plains, there was no place to hide. It made Kayno feel like a dog on a long leash. He was always waiting for them to pull on the leash and stop them in their tracks.
"Yes. Why don't you trust him?" asked Colin.
"I know you and Pallas like him. And you probably have good reasons to. Yet there is something about him. He is hiding something. I can feel it." Elwin still found it strange that this sword master had been an Inn Keeper in Aonach. A mercenary, yes, but an Inn Keeper? "I am also sure I have met Kayno before, but where? And How? I still can't remember." Kayno's eyes met Elwin's. Elwin shifted in his saddle. The ex-innkeeper's eyes were dark and hard, and there was a secret hidden behind that iron-like face. Elwin looked away, pretending to adjust the black band that held the white scarf, called a keffiyeh, over his head. If you would smile, Kayno, I think I would remember you. Even with the protection of white keffiyeh of the plains people, Elwin could still feel the effects of the intense heat. The land seemed to be totally without wind or shade. Kayno, I think you used to smile.
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