Complete Kingdoms and the Elves of the Reaches

by William Robert Stanek

  From her vantage point in the shadows, Adrina could see much more than the outlines of faces. Light from their torches reflected dully off their armor and the swords withdrawn from their sheaths. The angry man who seemed the leader of the patrol was bearded and though rather gaunt, just from the tone of his voice and the way he stood, Adrina was sure he was capable with a blade and hardhearted. He was arguing with another man who wanted to return to the north. Both men’s words were becoming increasingly belligerent.

  Then, to Adrina’s horror, the leader of the patrol set upon the other man. In one swift move, he brought the point of his blade to the other’s throat and plunged it inward. Adrina screamed, which would have brought sure discovery, if Emel hadn’t clasped a hand to her mouth just prior. As it was, her muffled scream mixed with the horrible gurgling sounds of the dying man as he sought to speak a few last words.

  The leader removed his sword from the other’s throat as he fell, and without another word, the members of his patrol continued south.

  Emel removed his hand from Adrina’s mouth and put his hands on her shoulders. “Are you all right, Adrina?” he whispered.

  Adrina couldn’t answer. She felt numb and sick.

  “It will pass, Adrina,” Emel said. “As I said, ‘This is not the practice field.’ This is real. Are you all right with that?”

  Adrina still couldn’t answer. Emel shook her.

  “Adrina will be all right in a moment,” Xith said. “Give her some breathing room.”

  Xith took Adrina’s hand.

  “We near the city center,” whispered Xith. “Once past the last line of buildings there will be no cover. On my signal move quickly and without stopping across the square to the walls of the keep. Emel, you’ll go first. Then, Vilmos. Then, Adrina. Once at the wall, speak not a word. Await my signal to continue…”

  When Xith signaled, Emel ran off, quickly crossing the open hundred yards to the shadowed wall. Then Xith signaled for Vilmos to follow.

  Adrina watched and waited. When her turn came, she ran across the square at a flat-out run. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Vilmos and Emel were excitedly watching her run. She glanced from Emel to the archers on the walls. Only one of them needed to spot her and it would all be for nothing.

  Halfway across, she no longer held back her smile. The run was strangely exhilarating after the tension of creeping through the besieged city. She glanced back once to look for Xith. She knew he waited somewhere out of sight behind her to make the last mad dash across the square. When she glanced back, her foot caught one of the square’s cobblestones. She tumbled and fell. Her face struck cold stones.

  Disoriented, she looked up. Emel was edging away from the safety of the wall. She waved him away. Then her eyes rose to the top of the wall, a single figure stood looking down over the square now, seemingly his eyes looked straight at her. Breathless, she waited for him to raise an alarm or notch an arrow to the string of his bow.

  Unmoving, she waited, and waited. The archer stood still. He stared down into the darkness of the square. For an instant, it seemed their eyes locked. The archer raised one of his arms—surely he was about to reach into the quiver at his side for an arrow. Her heart stopped and the whole of the world seemingly collapsed in around her. She stifled a moan, held her breath and waited.

  As the archer turned away and continued his march along the battlements of the wall, she thanked Great-Father for smiling down upon her and launched herself into a run.

  Hastened by her fright, she crossed the remaining distance to the wall in a surprising burst of speed. Emel caught her in his arms and held her for a moment before both turned to look back across the square. Immediate shock registered on their faces, Xith stood in plain sight in the middle of the square.

  She heard Vilmos whisper, “Run, run.” Then he began waving his arms wildly to the shaman. Heedless, Xith waved them on. “Go now,” he said in a voice that was strangely compelling and seemed to carry across the square on the wind, Do what you must…

  A cry went up from the walls and suddenly a number of voices were echoing an alarm. Almost immediately afterward she heard the twang of bows and the hiss of arrows. She squeezed her eyes tight. Fool, she thought to herself, sacrificing himself for no gain.

  “Quickly now,” said the boy, Vilmos, seeming suddenly resolved to action. “Pray my master’s diversion buys our way into the inner keep…” His words fell away, and, as if in response to his voice, a blue-white streak raced through the air to the wall. Disquieting screams followed.

  One of the archers fell from atop the wall and smacked the cobblestones not more than five feet from where Adrina stood. The man’s face was twisted oddly toward her. The emptiness in his eyes and the unnatural twist of his body told her the fall had been fatal.

  More blue-white streaks raced to the wall. Another soldier fell to his death—Adrina saw no trace of the blue-flighted arrows that had claimed either man. Emel grabbed her hand and pulled her after him.

  The minutes that followed were crazed and everything for a time afterward passed in a blur. Adrina found herself racing alongside Emel and Vilmos. She remembered remarking that the buildings of the inner keep truly did resemble the old wings of Imtal Palace and that true to Xith’s word, the King’s entryway into the main building was unguarded. She lead them along unlit passageways that were familiar to her feet even in darkness, yet she knew they only seemed that way.

  It wasn’t until many uncertain minutes later that she abruptly halted. She realized she no longer heard voices and that the footsteps she was running away from were her own and that of her companions. When she stopped, first Vilmos and then Emel slammed into her.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Emel.

  “Nothing,” Adrina said in a hiss. She turned to Vilmos. “Did Xith tell either of you where they would hold my brother?”

  Even in muted darkness, she could see the boy shrug.

  “I thought he told you,” Emel said.

  After a long silence, Vilmos spoke. “Xith said it would be easy and that getting out of the city would be the hard part. Your instinct is what led you here in the first place. Where were you going?”

  Another period of silence followed, then Adrina said, “I really have roamed these passageways a thousand times. They are a solitary place. My father never liked them and doesn’t use them. It is true that very few even know they exist.”

  “Where were you going?” repeated Vilmos.

  Adrina continued as if she hadn’t heard the question. “I wonder if… No, that would be too much to hope for.” Vilmos glared at her. “I guess, I was going to my quarters.”

  Vilmos suggested that she should continue.

  Adrina closed her eyes in thought for a moment, then lead them on their way. After ascending a flight of stairs and after a few twists and turns in the passageway, the three found themselves standing before a door. Only Adrina knew for certain what was beyond the door, the others could only guess. She slid the door open, expecting to find her room.

  She was about to step into the room, when Emel swept past her, a short blade cupped in his right hand. There was a rather large man standing hunched over with his back to the door only a few feet away. Emel stealthily crept up on him and plied the blade to his throat. Then he spun the man around.

  Adrina bit her tongue to stop her scream. Then as she sought to speak no words came forth. Her eyes were wild and Emel stared at her for a moment in apparent confusion.

  “Adrina?”

  “Valam,” Adrina said. “By the Mother, you live.” She was crying now and she ran to embrace her brother.

  Shocked, Emel lowered the blade from the prince’s throat. “Dear Father—Your Highness, forgive me. I had no idea.”

  Valam embraced Adrina in a great bear hug and swept her from her feet. His joy was short-lived, his expression grew suddenly grim and he let her go. “It is not safe here, you must go.”

  “But, we are here to rescue you.”

  T
he prince put a finger to his sister’s lips. “There are things occurring here that you cannot hope to understand. You must leave at once.”

  “What is wrong with you, Valam? Come quickly.” No sooner had Adrina said this than someone off to the side of the room cleared their throat. She turned and from an adjacent doorway, great blue eyes greeted her. Adrina asked, “Prince William?”

  The other nodded and grinned evilly.

  “Run, Adrina, run,” Valam said. He flung Adrina toward the passageway and barreled at the prince.

  Complete pandemonium followed. Confused, Emel and Vilmos stood their ground. Adrina recovered her feet and stared in wonder at the struggle between her brother and Prince William. Valam had a firm grip on the other’s throat. William was straining to reach a short blade in his belt.

  Adrina watched in mute horror as Prince William broke free of her brother’s grasp and whirled about to face him. Prince Valam was nearly the largest man in the Kingdom. With bare fists he could take any man, but where Prince Valam had only his fists, the other had a long, curved blade made for close-quarters fighting.

  Two guards rushed into the room. Again Adrina tried to scream and no words came out. Seeing the guards, Emel sprang forward and engaged both.

  Undaunted by the menacing blade, Valam circled defensively, waiting to attack. William it seemed was also waiting for the right moment to strike. The end came quick and clean, Prince William sliced in with his blade, Valam countered and then planted a solid blow to the side of the other’s unprotected skull. Prince William went down, his knees crumbling, his body collapsing beneath him.

  More guards swept upon them from the open doorway. Emel screamed wildly and pointed to the passageway. Vilmos remained deathly still, apparently gripped by fear. Adrina turned. Soldiers were streaming out of the tunnel behind her. Before she could get free, one had her arm and twisted it back forcefully, a burning pain shot up to her elbow.

  Prince Valam descended upon the attackers like a hungry demon, his eyes unfocused and angry. He grabbed the man that held Adrina by the throat, lifted him off the floor and flung him to the wall. Without stopping, Valam slapped Emel’s blade away and backed Adrina, Vilmos and Emel into the corner. He stood guardedly in front of them.

  With the aid of two guards, Prince William regained his feet. He rubbed the side of his head and directed a vengeful stare at Valam.

  Valam maintained the face-off against the many guards in the room and directed his eyes at William. “Tell them to back off,” Valam shouted, “we’ll submit!”

  “Enough, enough,” William said. He clapped his hands together and the soldiers backed away. “Stay your ground. Let’s shed no more blood than we need to for now.… We have what we wanted, and a prize or two to boot.”

  Chapter Eight:

  Prisoners

  Through the night Father Jacob watched the strange one, the one called Seth. As the shaman had asked, Jacob placed the healing stones one by one to Seth’s forehead. He had seen such stones before in the Temple of the Mother, but never had he witnessed their ability to heal. When first held the strange stones hummed and glowed bright yellow, touched to Seth’s forehead, the color slowly drained from them until they were left dull, black and empty.

  Suddenly, two hours before dawn, Seth had opened his eyes and spoken. “Where is my companion?” he had asked, his words in the old language.

  The old language, being the language of priests and priestesses, hadn’t surprised Jacob. He had answered without thought in the same tongue. “I do not know, I am sorry.”

  It was only now that Father Jacob was deep in conversation with Seth that he realized Seth spoke in the old tongue, the language that had once been universal to all peoples and was now preserved only by those of the Mother and Father. Jacob considered Seth’s statement for a moment more, then replied. “Then it is true, you are an elf.”

  There is disbelief in your voice, Fa-a-ther—Seth stumbled over the word—he had told Jacob earlier that he didn’t feel comfortable naming a Man father. —Jacob, yet your thoughts say you want to understand.

  “Myth and lore would have most Kingdomers believe that your kind are akin to fairies, pixies and sprites.”

  Seth smiled and regarded Jacob with his blue eyes. He seemed to know Jacob was joking.

  Jacob continued. “You must meet a friend of mine. Keeper Martin would write entire tomes filled with your words. There would be a definite gleam in his eyes as he wrote: elf of the gold and green forest, most fair and generous…”

  Yes Jacob, I am very much mortal, just as you, Seth said, answering the question that had been on Jacob’s mind for some time. Many of my companions journeyed to Great-Father so that I could be here, and it fills my heart with sorrow to know it was all for nothing…

  “You will have counsel before King Andrew, friend Seth, this I promise you.”

  “You do not understand, without my companion, Brother Galan, I have failed. My fate is here… She was needed to return to my homeland, the land of East Reach.

  “There is something you must know, Brother Seth,” Jacob said, borrowing the title as it seemed appropriate. “The one who found you said something that was strange. On the beach where you were found, it appeared there had been a struggle of some sort. One dead man attested to this. Unless there was a man in your party?”

  There were no Men— Seth’s voice sounded suddenly distant. His eyes flashed, his expression became one of puzzled remembrance. Yes, yes there it is. Seth sent surprise and hope into Jacob’s mind along with the words.

  For the first time Father Jacob realized Seth spoke in thoughts and not aloud. Do you walk in my thoughts? He asked himself.

  It is the way of my people. I took open thought as a sign that you wanted me to enter your mind. I am sorry if I have offended you.

  “Nothing of the sort, Brother Seth,” Jacob said, “you continue to surprise me is all. There really are poor records of the Four Peoples after the Race Wars.”

  Tell me of this other, the one who found me and the one you are thinking of now. He is of the Four Peoples, is he not?

  “Xith, last of the Watchers. I first met him thirteen years ago. He came to me in a time of great need. He promised he would return one day when the need was again great, and he has. Great Kingdom is being consumed by the heart of darkness itself.”

  Would he know where Galan is?

  Jacob nodded in understanding. “He might, he just might, but I suspect the disappearance of your friend is tied to the struggle we face. Xith said that we were drawn to you because of a joining of the paths. Our fates are together, my friend.”

  And more I am afraid. I remember some of it now. At the last, I called out with my mind in desperation. The call, I fear, lead more than just those who wished to aid me. I fear I summoned your enemy as well, and now they’ve taken Galan.

  Seth attempted to stand and did so only with Jacob’s help. I would help you. What must I do?

  “For now, there is little we can do. If Xith has not returned to camp shortly after sunrise, we journey north and return with the King’s army marshaled before us.”

  Jacob looked to the east where dawn was forming on the horizon. “To war,” he whispered. “But for now we can only wait and hope against hope… I truly fear the worst.”

  For two days Captain Trendmore drove the column north along the coast of the great sea. On smooth terrain the foot soldiers maintained a steady pace and made good progress. Keeper Martin was hopeful that by afternoon the walls and spires of the Free Cities would be in sight.

  Doubt had grown in the Lore Keeper from the moment the column had turned north instead of south, but Martin had no definite proof to act on his feelings. He couldn’t act on hunches and doubts. For all he knew Captain Trendmore was indeed following Captain Brodst’s orders. But then again, if he didn’t take action, who would?

  Keeper Martin cast a sidelong glance at the close-mouthed rider to his left, then lowered the hood of his cloak and looked to th
e sea. A strong breeze out of the north carried with it a salty spray. “On such a hot day,” Martin said, “the moisture and the breeze are refreshing. Don’t you think so, captain?”

  Captain Adylton replied, “The sun near midday is hot here, Lore Keeper, you would do well to keep that hood about your head.”

  Martin eyed the tall, dark-skinned Southerner who had removed his cloak about an hour into the ride and rode with short leggings that exposed calves and knees.

  Captain Adylton quickly added, “Playing in the surf and lying by the sea is about all I did in my youth. My father was a fisher…”

  Keeper Martin smiled—a mischievous smile. In a voice that barely carried above the plodding of his mount’s hooves, he asked, “Did you sail these waters often with your father then?”