Princess of Lanfor (Heroes of Ravenford Book 4)

by F. P. Spirit

  Raina had seated herself on the bench next to Seth, Kalyn’s lynx sitting between the two of them. The young druid’s hand drifted over and stroked his plush fur as she proceeded to tell them about their arrival in Serpent’s Hollow.

  In a record vote, the Druid Council had unanimously chosen to marshal their forces and move on the Serpent Cult. The decision had happened so fast, in fact, that the druids were already on the move by the time Seth and Kalyn met up with Glo and the others. The High Druid sent word ahead to Deepwood, and the town snipers also gathered their forces. As soon as the druids reached Deepwood, they joined them on their rushed march north.

  The entire company arrived at Serpent’s Hollow maybe an hour after sunset. When they reached the village, it was probably about the same time the companions entered the caves. Their timing couldn’t have been better. The cultists who had been trapped in the temple had just found their way out.

  What ensued was a huge battle between the bulk of the Serpent Cult and the combined forces of the druids and the Deepwooders. Magic, knives, and arrows flew everywhere. Shape-shifting serpents, bears, and wolves clashed in the center of the little village.

  The druids and snipers appeared to be gaining the upper hand when the High Druid sent Fran and Raina ahead to lend a hand to the Heroes. Kalyn’s brothers, Decon and Daer, insisted on coming along as well.

  All the others had gathered around by the time Raina finished her tale. Glo swept his eyes carefully over his companions.

  Lloyd’s arm appeared completely healed, though Aksel had cautioned the warrior to avoid wielding a blade with it for a while. Donnie’s cracked skull was fixed, and Cyclone’s welts were miraculously gone.

  “Kalyn tol’ me most o’ what happened here,” Fran explained to the small gathering. “’Less you got somethin’ else that needs doin’ probably bes’ we be headin’ back to tha village.”

  “I think we’ve done all we can here,” Aksel agreed with the blind druid.

  Fran cast a quick spell to make Martan lighter, then Decon and Daer carried him back along with the others. It turns out the brothers had a change of heart about the vagrant archer after hearing Elladan’s stories about his brave exploits. It also didn’t hurt that he’d sacrificed himself for their little sister.

  Seth and Kalyn led the way back to the village. When they arrived there, most of the fighting had died down. The group was met by a tall, thin elven woman with a thick mane of coppery-red curly hair, garbed in a pale green robe. She was closely surrounded by at least ten druids, who stood protectively around her.

  The woman regarded them carefully as they entered the north end of the village. Her deep green eyes scanned the little group, pausing for a moment as they fell on Glolindir.

  There was something strikingly familiar about this woman. The regal way in which she carried herself reminded Glo of his mother, Aerandir, or perhaps even the Lady Gracelynn of Ravenford.

  Fran called out as they drew up to the druids. “Howdy, Lysandra. How goes the ‘party?’”

  Lysandra eyed Fran for a few moments. Glo could almost feel the tension passing between the two. It appeared there was no love lost between this pair. Finally, Lysandra exhaled an exasperated sigh. “This is a bloody mess. Good thing we stopped these fiends when we did.”

  Fran’s mouth twisted into a sarcastic smile. “We? If it twarn’t for these folks here, we’d be fightin’ a hydra, a medusa, a naga, and tha cult’s dark goddess.”

  Lysandra spiked an eyebrow, a puzzled expression on her face. “And what goddess would that be?”

  “They call her Salisma,” Glo answered in a flat tone.

  Lysandra already pale face turned positively white, her body visibly shuddering at the mention of that name. The elven woman wrapped her arms around herself to stop her body from shaking. “No… it couldn’t be…”

  “What is it?” Raina asked, the young druid’s voice betraying her fear at seeing her leader so rattled.

  Lysandra dropped her arms and squared her shoulders, forcing herself to stand up tall. Still, Glo could see a tiny bit of fear in her green eyes. “Salisma Tanj is a maralith, a lieutenant of the Lord of All Demons, whose name I dare not utter in such a place as this.”

  Glo arched an eyebrow at her declaration. He exchanged a brief glance with Aksel, then returned his attention to Lysandra. “I thought that name sounded familiar. The Thrall Lord was a master of demons. According to the tales, in the final battle he even summoned the Demon Lord to fight for him. Yet he also had a number of demon lieutenants at his command.”

  Lysandra turned her gaze back on Glo and stared at him sharply as if assessing him anew. “You are quite astute. Salisma Tanj was indeed one of those lieutenants who served the Thrall Lord.”

  Aksel rubbed his chin slowly as he mused aloud. “Then Elistra was right. The Serpent Cult was being driven by more than just the Thrall Master’s legacy…”

  “Did you say Elistra?” Fran interrupted him.

  Aksel nodded to the blind druid, his demeanor remaining serious. “She was a companion of ours until a brief while ago.”

  “Well I’ll be,” Fran drawled, her face lit with surprise. “Eh, t’aint no surprise, though. She’s always where the fun is.”

  Glo had momentarily started at the mention of the seeress’ name, but his curiosity got the better of him. “Do you know her?”

  An enigmatic smile crossed the blind druid’s face as she nodded back at him. “Prob’ly as well as anyone knows ‘er. She keeps ‘er cards close to tha vest, that one.”

  “That’s for sure,” Glo agreed wholeheartedly. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from feeling excited. If Fran did indeed know Elistra, perhaps she could shed some light as to why the seeress had left him.

  Fran interrupted his musings by bringing up Martan. She swiftly explained the circumstances surrounding the hapless archer to Lysandra.

  The High Druid listened carefully, then slowly nodded when Fran was done. “There may indeed be something we can do for him, but not here. It will have to wait till we return to Bendenwood.”

  Kalyn, uncharacteristically silent up till now, expelled a deep sigh. “Thank you, your High Druidiness. Anything you can do for him would be greatly ‘ppreciated.”

  Lysandra arched an eyebrow at the lady archer. She studied her for a brief moment, then a thin smile crossed her lips. “We shall see what we can do, but for now we must finish cleaning up this mess.”

  With that, the High Druid Lysandra spun on her heel. She strode away while waving the others to follow her back into the heart of the village.

  Bad News Travels Fast

  Something dreadful has happened to the Baron.

  Glolindir looked up from the thick book in front of him and rubbed his hands across his tired, bleary eyes. The tall elf leaned back in his chair and stretched while sweeping his gaze across the large chamber around him. The room was oval in shape with two levels, the entire walls of each covered with tall shelves. Every shelf in turn was filled with nothing but rows and rows of books.

  Elladan, Lysandra, and Fran sat not far away, the table they all shared strewn with open books and piles of texts that they had already read through. The four of them had been at this now for nearly eighteen hours, ever since they had arrived in Bendenwood.

  It suddenly dawned on Glo that he hadn’t rested in over forty-eight hours. After their initial meeting with Lysandra, the companions had joined in with the druid forces, and by sunrise, the hollow had been completely cleared of cultists. With the battle won, Lysandra tasked her forces with returning the slaves to their homes. She then set out for Bendenwood with the companions, Fran, Raina, the Rhans, and her personal guard.

  The small company had ridden hard through the day, finally reaching their destination late that evening. Thoroughly exhausted, most of the companions went straight to
bed. Yet Fran and Lysandra had forgone sleep, focusing instead on a cure for Martan. Glo and Elladan offered to assist the pair since neither elf required sleep.

  The foursome had spent all night and most of this next day holed up in the Bendenwood library. It contained an impressive collection of texts, though not as big as the libraries in Cairthrellon or Kai Arborous. Still, there were many books here that neither Glo or Elladan had seen before.

  Yet now Glo had begun to feel discouraged. It was late in the afternoon and they were still no closer to finding a cure for their stoned friend.

  The tall elf sighed, then forced himself to bend back down over the book he was reading. He had only gone through a few more pages when Elladan abruptly called out, “Looks like Fran was right!”

  The blind druid glanced up from a text she was somehow scanning with her hand. “O’ course I was right. Bout what in partic’lar though?”

  Glo got up and gathered around Elladan with the others. The bard pointed to a passage he had discovered. “This section was written by the great hero Valgar, a high priest of Phobas some thousand years ago during the last demon war. In it, he states, short of a wizard’s wish, the only way ever found to dispel the medusa’s curse is through the creature’s tears.”

  “Well ain’t that a kick in the head,” Fran drawled, glancing around with a toothy grin.

  Glo leaned in close over Elladan’s shoulder. “Does it say anything more?”

  The bard leafed through the next couple of pages then shook his head. “Nope. That was the only reference to a medusa in this section.”

  Glo straightened back up and steepled his hands in front of his mouth. This was their first solid find, but something about it bothered him. “So, let’s say we drain the medusa’s tear ducts and distill the contents into a potion. How do we get that potion into Martan? He can’t exactly swallow it.”

  Silence pervaded the library as the others mulled over Glo’s words. Lysandra finally broke the silence. “What if we were to spray the potion over him? Stone is porous after all, and it should absorb most of the liquid.”

  A line appeared between Elladan’s brows. “That might work, but what if it doesn’t absorb enough of the potion?”

  Glo pursed his lips together. “Elladan’s right. A spray may not be effective enough.”

  The tall elf paced around the room while drumming his fingers on his chin. “If only there was a way to augment the potion’s magic, it wouldn’t matter how much of it was absorbed.”

  “I knows a place where tha magicks is thick as molasses,” Fran stated with a smile, fixing her unseeing eyes on Lysandra.

  The High Druid stared back at the older woman, her eyes going round with disbelief. “No. You can’t be serious. We can’t bring them there. That site is reserved for druids only.”

  Fran’s smile widened into a toothy grin. “But you’re the High Druid, so ain’t yas able to make n’ ‘ception? After all, these folks did jus stop a powerful demon from enterin’ tha world.”

  Lysandra went silent, her eyes growing thoughtful as they swept from Fran to Elladan and finally settled on Glo. Mixed emotions played across her face as she stared at him.

  Glo intrinsically understood her dilemma. As the High Druid, she was bound by her peoples’ laws and customs. Still, their friend’s life was at stake.

  “Please, Lysandra,” Glo implored her. “Martan is a good man. He proved that by sacrificing himself for another. If there is a way to ensure his recovery, then I believe we owe it to him.”

  Lysandra appeared to think over his plea, then her eyes softened and a warm smile spread across her lips. “Very well. I will sanction the use of the druid meeting place this one time.”

  The High Druid’s voice turned hard as she shifted her gaze toward Fran. “But this stays between us. I don’t need the council getting wind of this. They are hard enough to control as it is.”

  Fran grinned, then pressed her lips together and drew her hand across her mouth. “My lips is sealed, your High Druidiness!”

  Lysandra held her gaze for a moment, then let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m going to need a long drink after this is over.”

  The moon waxed a shade from full in the inky black sky above. Its silvery light softly bathed everything in sight, casting long shadows around the gathered group.

  Glo and the others stood amidst a tall circle of monolithic stones set in a clearing a short distance northeast of the town of Bendenwood. The henge was the meeting place of the Druidic Council, where the head druids of the many circles gathered during the full moon.

  Martan’s stone form stood in the very center of that circle, placed upon a wide dais normally reserved for the High Druid. Lysandra and Fran stood nearby, carefully loading the potion made from the medusa’s tears into a sprayer.

  Glo subconsciously rubbed his arms as he waited in silence. He could feel the mana flowing in the air around him and in the ground beneath his feet. It was so strong it practically made his skin crawl.

  Aksel and Elladan appeared to be having the same reaction. Glo leaned in close and whispered to the duo. “Lysandra told me this place is built on a point where two ley lines intersect.”

  Ley lines were lines of mystical force that encircled the earth at regular intervals, both east to west and north to south. While the lines themselves emanated power, the mana levels where two lines intersected was particularly high.

  Aksel gazed back at Glo, a look of understanding dawning on the gnome’s face. “Ah, that explains a lot.”

  “You mean that itchy feeling like a thousand fireflies crawling under your skin?” Elladan drawled, the bard rubbing his arms like Glo had moments ago.

  Aksel grimaced at Elladan. “Yes… that, and why we were dragged all the way out here to administer this cure.”

  Earlier that evening, Lysandra and Fran had drained the medusa’s tear ducts and distilled the potion they would need. They had then waited until moonrise to journey to the henge, when the magic that ran through the ley lines would be at its peak.

  The two druids, Raina, Kalyn and her brothers all now stood in the stone circle. Nearly all the companions had gathered there as well, all except for Cyclone. According to Raina, the dragon hunter had departed town just before noon. He left without leaving any message, or even a word of goodbye.

  While it seemed rather gruff, even for Cyclone, Glo believed the hunter’s curt behavior had to do with the strange transformation he experienced back in the caves. Perhaps Cyclone had gone off to find out more about what had happened to him.

  Glo’s musings were interrupted as Lysandra and Fran finished preparing the sprayer. The High Druid then stepped back and bade Fran to proceed.

  Raina stepped up to Fran’s side, taking her gently by the arm and guiding her forward toward the center of the stone circle. The blind druid pointed the sprayer at the rocky figure of Martan and shrugged. “Well, here goes nothin’.”

  Fran pumped the handle and a cloud of gas erupted from the tip. The moonlight reflected in a silvery sheen off the mist as it fanned out over Martan’s still form. The blind druid circled around the stone figure with Raina’s help, spraying it a few more times. She then stepped back with the pronouncement, “That’s all of it.”

  Glo’ eyes narrowed as the mists converged on the stone form. They settled onto the porous rock, making it appear wet in sections. Nothing appeared to happen at first, but Glo could feel a surge in the flow of mana around the henge. It felt as if the already-potent magical forces were being focused toward the center of the stone circle.

  Abruptly, the layer of ‘dew’ on Martan disappeared. It was as if it had all been sucked into the rock. An amber aura briefly appeared around the statue, then the entire figure began to glow. The light grew steadily brighter and brighter until it became so intense that Glo had to shield his eyes. The light abru
ptly faded, and in its place stood Martan, the dour archer miraculously returned to flesh and blood.

  Glo felt a sense of awe. It was one thing to theorize about a potential cure, but another thing entirely to see it work.

  The silence that had fallen over the circle was abruptly broken by a loud squeal. “Martan!”

  Kalyn rushed forward and flung her arms around the archer, pulling him into a tight embrace. Martan appeared taken aback, the disheveled young man still half dazed from his recent transformation.

  “Well, this is awkward,” Seth commented, his mouth twisted sideways in the bright moonlight.

  Kalyn fixed the halfling with a dark stare, then swiftly shifted her grip on Martan, pulling the young man into a head lock. “That was so stupid! Promise me you’ll never do something that stupid again!”

  “I… promise…” Martan managed to sputter despite the tight grip around his neck.

  “Good!” Kalyn let go of him, hauled off, and punched him hard in the shoulder.

  “Ouch!” Martan rubbed his arm.

  “That’s so you don’t forget your promise,” Kalyn declared, her face flushed. The young lady then stormed off past her brothers.

  “Not a word, you two,” she cautioned in a hard tone as she stomped past them and out of the stone circle.

  “Our lips is sealed. But that don’t stop us from thinking.” Decon nudged Daer in the arm, winking.

  Meanwhile, Elladan strode up to Martan and grasped his hand. “Welcome back to the land of the living!”

  Martan, still rubbing his shoulder, glanced around the stone circle with obvious confusion. “What happened? Where are we? Last thing I remember is that snake woman was after Kalyn… and those eyes…”

  The young man visibly shuddered.

  “Ya turned into stone is’n what happened,” Fran responded with a loud cackle.

  Martan glanced at the blind druid. “And who are you?”