by Lana Axe
The servants within bowed low as he entered the throne room. Ignoring them, he perched himself upon the dark blue cushion which had been crafted to mold to his body. He propped his feet upon a low stool and let his arms dangle over the sides of his throne.
Tu'vad entered, stood before the throne, and bowed.
“How are the mines coming along?” Ulda asked.
“Nicely, your majesty,” Tu'vad replied. “Miners are working around the clock in two shifts. They are finding some larger gems than before, but no very large stones have been found just yet. We will continue working.”
“Very well,” Ulda said, bored with the news. If he wanted to create stronger enchantments, he would need larger gems. Waiting drove him mad, but there wasn't much else he could do. He trusted that Tu'vad was pushing the miners as hard as possible without killing them. Disgusting creatures that they were, Ulda needed their labor. At least he didn't have to look at them often.
“You may go, Tu'vad,” Ulda said, waving his hand. “Send General Fru in. We need to discuss future plans.”
“Right away, highness,” Tu'vad bowed and took three steps backwards before leaving the room.
Ulda sat idly staring up at the ceiling, his fingers interlaced across his chest. Training his students this morning had been exhausting work. They were all masters of arcane knowledge, but they lacked discipline. They were arrogant and set in their ways despite being rather young. Still, they were eager to learn what he could teach them. Unlimited power was quite a tantalizing lure for a young sorcerer. Naturally, he would not teach them everything. Should one of them try to overpower him, he would need the few tricks he was holding back. He would not be overthrown.
Finally, General Fru arrived in the throne room and bowed.
“Ah, General,” Ulda said, sitting up in his seat. “We need to discuss plans for our future invasion of Na'zora. My students are learning quickly and will soon be able to create more of our wolf-man hybrids. We're going to need Na'zora's supply of souls if we are ever to take over Ral'nassa. We should also consider attacking those pesky Wild Elves. I can't imagine their essences being much more difficult to bind than a human. Enlightened Elves, however, are going to prove a much greater challenge.”
“The weaponsmiths are working overtime to create the finest swords and armor possible for our troops. Will your Soulbinders be able to place enchantments on the blades, or will we need a rune carver?”
“Enchanting a weapon is a mere trifle,” Ulda said. “Minor ones can be done with only the essence of an animal. Rune carving is well and good, but the enchantments created using a soul are much stronger and more efficient. Have you appointed anyone to work with the spiderlings yet?”
“Yes, sir,” Fru replied. “They will be grown in a few days and ready for your use.”
“Excellent. I'm most excited to see this new hybrid,” Ulda said. “My Soulbinders should be up to the task by then.”
“Is there anything else you need from me, sire?” Fru asked.
“Not at this time. You may go.”
General Fru bowed and left the room. Ulda relaxed back into his chair and sighed. Things were coming along nicely. Within a year or two, he could be the king of all Nōl'Deron. The thought brought a smile to his face as he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.
Chapter 11
“Your highness, I beg you,” Magister Utric pleaded. “I know I am old and will only be in the way, but I must accompany you. If indeed these elves still live in the Vale, I must document them. There are so many things we might learn from them.”
“This is not a scholarly mission, Magister,” Aelryk replied. “We will be traveling through some dangerous areas, and I cannot guarantee anyone's safety. We do not yet know what we are dealing with.”
The pain in the old magister's eyes was obvious. His entire life had been dedicated to studying the histories of Nōl'Deron, and before him was a chance to seek out the land's original occupants. He could learn so much and write it down for future generations. No, it was too important a task to let this chance slip away.
“Your majesty, I must insist. If I die, then I die. At least let me try.”
King Aelryk considered the matter sincerely. He did not like the idea of an elderly man coming along. He would not be useful if they were attacked, and he would lose a valued member of his court should tragedy befall him. The look in the old man's gray eyes spoke clearly. This would be a dream come true for him.
“Very well, Magister. I will allow you to accompany us.”
“Oh, thank you, your majesty. Thank you.”
“You must be ready to leave in two hours time. Do not bring any more than you need. We must travel light and with haste.”
Magister Utric bowed and hurried out the door with his apprentice.
Aelryk drew his sword from its scabbard and observed it. The broad blade was etched with intricate elven runes that sparkled in the light like diamonds. Yori Half-Elven, his court blacksmith and friend, had done exquisite work on this sword. Aelryk had learned much from Yori, including tolerance. Growing up in a time when elves were an enemy had not made their friendship easy. Nonetheless, they had become very close friends in their youth.
He re-sheathed his sword and motioned for the page to help him on with his armor. Though he would be riding through his own kingdom for a few days, he did not want to give the appearance that all was well. His subjects would see him dressed for war, and they would know he was fighting on their behalf.
With him would travel Magister Utric, Court Mage Willdor, General Morek and a company of guards. He hoped that Mi'tal's group had received his message and would be waiting for him at Duana. With any luck, he had at least one Wild Elf scout with him who could be invaluable on this journey. Perhaps Wild Elves knew more about the Westerling Elves and would be willing to share the information. If not, the scout would still be a valuable asset in avoiding the monsters of the woods.
Aelryk stepped outside in the sun and sniffed the air. Orzi was right about the day's weather. He had picked a perfect day to set out. Hopefully, his other prophecies would turn out to be correct as well.
The king headed towards the armory where Yori was busy carving runes into chamfrons for the horses. He stood with his shoulders stooped over his workbench and meticulously chiseled at the steel. Hearing footsteps approach, he looked up and saw the king. He sat down the chisel and wiped his hands on the cloth hanging from his belt.
Aelryk smiled at the sight of his friend. He was average height with green eyes and light hair. As always, he wore a headband to hide the tips of his pointed ears.
“Good morning, Yori,” Aelryk said, extending his hand.
“My lord,” Yori replied, nodding and grasping the king's hand. “I'm nearly finished here. These runes will help the horses stay calm and give them courage. Without them, I can't imagine how the horses might react to the sight of those monsters.”
“Thank you, my friend. I know you and your apprentices have been working very hard to complete this armor in time.” Aelryk went silent for a moment. “Perhaps you could check over my sword and make sure everything is in order.” He drew the sword and handed it to Yori. “Perhaps the rune etchings have worn a bit.”
Yori took the sword, his brow wrinkling. Aelryk was well aware that elven runes did not wear over time. He was troubled but trying not to show it. Yori inspected the sword before taking it to the grindstone to sharpen its edge. Once he was satisfied with its sharpness, he began polishing the sword, occasionally glancing back at his friend. Silently, Aelryk watched Yori work.
“It's perfect, my king,” Yori said as he handed the sword back to him.
Taking the sword, Aelryk said, “I thank you again, my friend. I also have a question for you.”
Yori waited for the king to speak.
“You spent time learning from the Wild Elves and also from Enlightened Elves. Tell me, do you know anything of the Westerling Elves or of the Vale where they live? Do they even exist?
”
“I wish I could help you,” Yori said sincerely. “I know nothing of them. All I have heard are old fairy tales. No one has ever mentioned to me that they might actually exist.”
Aelryk took a deep breath and said, “I was afraid you would say that. I wonder if I'm riding on a fool's errand.” He shook his head.
“I do believe they once existed,” Yori offered. “The stories say they are the First Ones. They came before all other elves, men, and dwarves. I can't see such a people going off into oblivion. I think they still exist somewhere in this world. That's truly what I believe if that helps you at all, my friend.”
“It does help. I'll leave you to finish your work.” Aelryk shook his friend's hand once again.
As he left the armory, his mind was still uneasy. Perhaps Yori was justified in his beliefs and perhaps not. He only wished he had more solid evidence before he set out. If this was indeed an error, he would be leaving his people unattended for nothing.
A few blocks down the stone path were the king's stables. The troops who would accompany him were already gathered and preparing their horses. His wife Lisalla and son Rykon were making their way towards him. They would want to see him off on his journey.
He walked past the stables to meet his wife. Her tall, slender form was accentuated by the dark blue gown she wore. Her blonde ringlets rested lazily on her breast. Taking both of her hands in his, he kissed her softly on each cheek.
“My queen,” he said.
“My lord,” she replied. “Rykon and I were just coming to wish you good journey.”
“We're still waiting for Mage Willdor and Magister Utric to arrive. I have a little time if you would like to join me for a drink.”
“I'd be delighted,” she said, and they headed for the market area together.
Rykon, who had been distracted by a smile from a pretty young maid, followed a short distance behind. He was a handsome youth and often caught the eye of the young ladies in town. At only sixteen, he was already as tall as his father and had the same dark hair and eyes.
The three of them took a seat near the inn and called for the serving girl to bring them each some wine. The young girl hurried away and reappeared almost instantly bearing three goblets. She placed the drinks in front of the royal family and then curtsied, her ample bosom leaning in towards Rykon. The view was not lost on him, and he gave an approving smile.
“How long will you be away, father,” he asked.
“A few weeks at the least,” Aelryk answered. “The maps are quite old, but if they are correct, the journey to the Vale will take at least a week on horseback. Then there is the matter of crossing a river of unknown depth and width.”
“But the prophecy isn't specific,” Lisalla said. “You may find whatever it is you need without crossing the river.”
“It's possible,” Aelryk said, “but the near bank is not likely a land of spring.”
“Do you think you'll find elves there?” Rykon asked, sipping at his wine.
“I don't know what we'll find there,” he replied. “Perhaps if they are still around they can tell me how to bring a river back with me.”
“Orzi has said that the prophecy will find a way,” Lisalla said, laying her hand on top of his. “An answer will be revealed to you at the right time. I'm sure of it.” She leaned in and kissed his forehead.
“Shall we head back to the stables? The others are most likely waiting for me by now.” Aelryk rose and laid a few coins on the table.
The trio headed back to the stable where the rest of the party was indeed waiting for the king. The men bowed their heads as he approached.
“Is everything in order?” he asked General Morek.
“Yes, my lord,” Morek replied. “Everything is prepared.”
“Let's get to it then,” Aelryk commanded.
He turned to his wife and kissed her lips. Then, he turned to his son and hugged him.
“Safe journey, father,” Rykon said.
“Be well, husband,” Lisalla said with tears in her eyes. She had seen him off on journeys before, but she was always sad to see him go.
Without a word, Aelryk mounted his horse. He raised his hand in a gesture of farewell to his family and then headed to the road with his companions following closely behind.
Chapter 12
After a hard day's ride, Mel and the others arrived at Duana. Slowly, they walked their horses to the stables and dismounted.
“Well, my ass hurts,” Mel said rubbing his backside.
Thinal walked behind him and squeezed his bottom with both hands. “I'll help you with that later,” she said.
“Not accustomed to riding much, Mel?” Mi'tal asked.
“I'd say that's the second time in my life I've been on a horse, or maybe it's the third. I've never ridden all day before, and I don't much care to do it again.”
“I'm sure the king won't want to travel on foot,” Mi'tal said, “but we may have a few days rest before he arrives. Let's see if they have any rooms for us at the inn.”
The six of them headed towards the inn just as the sun was disappearing below the horizon. A warm orange hue filled the sky.
The inn was rather large and in good repair. Voices could be heard coming from the common room. Duana was a medium-sized town that did not receive too many visitors, but the inn was the center of activity for its citizens.
Mi'tal and Loren stepped inside first, followed by Mel, Thinal, and the guards. Immediately, Byord and Oli took seats among the crowd and motioned to a server to bring ale. Mi'tal led the others to the bar where a fat innkeeper was hurriedly wiping glasses.
“Good evening, innkeeper,” Mi'tal said. “Do you have any rooms available this night?”
The innkeeper stopped wiping glasses and looked up. His eye fell straight to Mel and Thinal, who were dressed in animal skin clothing.
“What the hell?” he said, bewildered. His eyes darted between Mi'tal and the elves.
“Forgive me, innkeeper,” Mi'tal said. “I am Councilor Mi'tal, First Advisor to King Aelryk. These are my companions, Councilor Loren, Mel, and Thinal. We are on urgent business for the king and would like rooms for the night.”
The innkeeper swallowed and took one more look at the elves. “Councilor, sir, this is a thing unheard of.” He leaned over the bar close to Mi'tal and whispered, “Those are savages. Why have you brought them here? Are they under arrest?”
Mi'tal waved his hand. “No, nothing like that. They are in the king's employ.”
The innkeeper stood up straight, dumbstruck. “We have plenty of rooms available. Two silver per night, and that includes your meals.”
“Thank you, sir,” Mi'tal said. “We will take five rooms.” He placed ten silver coins on the bar. The price was unreasonable, of course, but he was in no mood to argue.
“Rooms are upstairs. You can take your pick,” the innkeeper said, scooping up the coins. “Oh, and make sure your wild friends behave themselves. I don't want any problems.”
Mi'tal nodded and motioned the others to follow him to a nearby table.
“Let's have some dinner, shall we?” Loren said. His stomach had been rumbling for hours. He was not inclined to miss a meal and had put on some weight over the last few years. A comfortable seat on the king's council had not helped his physical fitness.
A few seconds after taking their seats, the innkeeper appeared at their table with four steaming bowls of stew and a loaf of bread.
“Drinks are on their way,” he said and hurried off.
They ate hungrily while Loren grabbed at the majority of the bread.
“Hey, Mel,” Oli called from the corner. “There's a man over here that says he can aim better than any elf. Why don't you come over here and show him a thing or two?”
Mel looked over at Thinal who smiled and shrugged. Never one to back down from a competition, he backed his chair away from the table and headed towards Oli. Byord raised a mug as he walked by.
“This little thing?�
�� the challenger asked, laughing. “Place your bets, gentlemen.” He finished his mug of ale, slammed it on the table, and grinned.
At the rear corridor of the inn was a throwing area. It was well positioned to avoid accidents caused by intoxicated competitors.
“I'll take fifty copper on the elf,” Oli said. His remark was followed by abundant laughter. Most of the others were betting against him.
“Three knives each, closest to the bull's-eye wins,” the challenger said. “I'll go first so you can see how it's done.”
One at a time, he turned and threw the three knives. Each one landed in the exact center of the target. The crowd cheered, and the man raised his arms and nodded his head.
Mel retrieved the knives from the wall, and the crowd once again fell silent. Positioning all three knives in his hand at once, he gave a quick flick of his wrist. Three knives stuck deeply into the target's center.
“Yes!” Oli shouted, jumping up and spilling his ale.
The crowd was obviously stunned, and many of them sat with their mouths wide open.
“Looks like a draw,” Byord offered. “They both hit the center.”
“Bring out the moving target!” someone in the crowd yelled. An onlooker near the railing above loosed a target that hung from the ceiling and swung side to side.
Both Mel and his competitor threw their knives and hit the center of the target.
“Looks like we'll have to move this fight outside,” the challenger said, grinning.
Most of the crowd followed as the pair walked outside. Behind the inn was an archery range.
“Bows?” Mel asked, thinking how easy it was going to be to win.
“Not against an elf,” his competitor huffed. “We'll throw hatchets.”
Though Mel had much less practice throwing hatchets than he had throwing knives, he was still able to hit the center three times. His competitor hit the center as well.
The crowd started to get annoyed at the lack of a winner, and one man offered up a solution. “I'll throw an apple in the air and see if you can hit it. One try each.”
