Complete Kingdoms and the Elves of the Reaches

by William Robert Stanek

  “Strong that one, I’ll say. Come child, I will see that you sleep!” said Jacob, dragging Adrina along behind him. “You look so very tired, you must rest… Besides there is nothing we can do now save pray. We must pray long and hard.”

  Adrina didn’t refuse. She knew Jacob wouldn’t have believed

  her, and she wouldn’t have been telling the truth, if she denied her exhaustion. Yet, as fate would have it, the two passed Chancellor Yi who was busily rushing past on his way to King Andrew’s chambers. The council was awaiting the king’s presence at the day’s session, which he was late to again, but he was the king after all and therefore pardonable. Luckily for Adrina, Yi snatched Jacob away to the meeting and she was left on her own.

  For a moment, Adrina considered Yi’s face. His nose wasn’t red any more and the dark circles were gone from under his eyes. Adrina broke her stride. She had heard no sniffles as he approached or after he had passed. A touch of mirth lit her face. Imtal Palace had been dead before, gnawing away at them a piece at a time, the chancellor especially, but no more.

  She considered following the two to the council chambers and sitting in on the session, but quickly let the idea pass. She would rather be alone for a while, and she almost walked to her room to lie down as she knew Jacob would have wanted her to do and as her body desired—but instead she crossed back to stare silently at the closed chamber door, listening intently for any sound that might escape from within.

  After hours of waiting and pacing back and forth alone, stirring her mind with frenzied thoughts, Father Jacob returned from the council meeting. He was surprised and not surprised to find Adrina waiting there slumped against the wall, half asleep. He muttered under his breath that he should have taken her back to her room first and then gone to the meeting, but now it was too late.

  He shrugged his shoulders in a gesture to show the futility of arguing with her, and then joined her. A strong force of will emanating from within the chamber told Jacob that Brother Seth was occupied in activities beyond anything he could comprehend. For many days, the priests had been changing off in the healing chant without success. It seemed they could do nothing to aid the dying one.

  Only today they decided to try the impossible, to breach the realm of their powers and combine their wills. At the time Jacob thought it was the only solution—he was not so sure anymore.

  All his thoughts of failure did not disappear so readily. He cursed the priestesses and their damnable rituals. An image of Jasmine, the High Priestess, flashed through his mind. During the days before winter, a priestess was not to be found in the whole of the Kingdom. Sealed away in sanctuary, carrying out private worship, which although Jacob knew and understood he did not fully condone. His thoughts lingered on the face a moment longer, then he turned to careful, reverent prayer—the prayer he promised before but had not had time yet to give.

  Neither he nor Adrina said a word as they waited, slumped against the wall. Interrupting the silence seemed wrong. Despite the skirt she wore, Adrina sat on her haunches. The good father simply abided by leaning a heavy shoulder against the stonework of one of the hall’s grand arches. Unconsciously, between breaths one or the other would pause to listen, hoping for a sound or a sign, anything at all to cast away the fears.

  Beyond the door, inside the room, Seth sat engrossed in meticulous calculation, ensuring every detail down to the last minuscule item. Once the others left, he raced to Galan’s side and kissed her lightly on the cheek. His thoughts ran wild—the task that lay ahead, that which he must attempt, the sacrifice he must make, the denial he must send to the Father, all things he must consider.

  Oh Galan, my Galan… What have I done?

  He breathed in a deep breath to relax his mind and body, quickly pursuing it with another, waiting until his thoughts were absolutely clear before he delved into the long, tedious task ahead. The room, having served as a meditation chamber of sorts, would suit his purposes well.

  Slowly, methodically, he spread unlit candles around the bed in a full circle, chanting a prayer long forgotten, lost to all save his people, the prayer’s pious message designed to begin focusing his will as well as to gather his thoughts. Curiously, the candles served only as symbols of faith to the Father, each representing a material thing, thus to remind the Father of times past, times of great need.

  Seth’s labor began with channeling a single thought, allowing it to occupy his consciousness. He maintained the chant, fixing his will, refining it, until all else faded—the last candle gently put in its place completed the circle. Seth crossed to the head of the bed and kneeled, cross-legged. He increased the level of his mental chant, reaching out until it encompassed the entire chamber, yet not beyond. The sound of his silent words of thought was so intense that others of lesser will would have been driven out of the room.

  He cast a wayward thought away from his mind and touched outward to the air, slowly lifting himself above the bed with a levitating force. He raised his hands, turning them palms up, fingers at first interlaced to channel the energy better.

  Moving each finger now, separately in an independent flicker, he touched the candles, each with a different spark of energy, forcing them to light in the same instant as one. A cleansing of his inner self allowed him to reflect his will inward while he waited for strength to build—the bright red-orange of the sun, the green, green pastures of open plains, the placid blue waters of a gentle lake and the serenity of life were his only thoughts.

  The power of the world encircled him and he had only to reach out to grasp. He could shape this power, bend it to his desires, caress it with his touch. The will of nature, the will of the very air in which he floated, came to him and he focused, channeling ever so carefully while a pleasant calm passed over him. Suspended in time, touching its boundaries, he held the power of the world.

  He called the wind.

  A breeze, a warm soothing flutter, blew in a fine whisper, increasing until it was a gust, then a gale. He touched the forces of will he held in his beckoning hands; the wind became a raging torrent of swirling force. The candles blazed, burning with such intensity as the wind gathered strength that their heat brought beads of sweat to Seth’s brow.

  The peace of the earth surrounded and took him. It was time.

  Seth cast his spirit to the place of Galan’s moribund soul, the moaning wind becoming a deafening roar. The brightly burning flames became ten tiny suns. Seth leapt beyond.

  Everything stopped, deadly silent. The air, no longer warm to the touch, but cool, cool enough to drive a shiver into one’s heart.

  Seth reached for the last unraveling strand, not knowing if his strength was enough to sustain it. He felt the will of the Father all around him.

  The Father wanted to bring his daughter home, to end her suffering, to carry her away to a better place, but Seth was selfish and did not want to let her go.He had held the last strand of her life too long to let it slip away. He held her spirit, success was so near. Two must survive, went the whisper in his mind.

  Father, I implore you! Seth cried out. My need is great! Please hear my call and listen to my words!

  His message fell as a wave smashing against the shore in the dead of night. Matching that of the land as it was rent and hopelessly twisted, his will became the soft grains of sand sucked out by the churning black waters.

  Wallowing in darkness and turmoil, Seth collapsed to the floor at the head of the bed. His journey ended. Galan’s journey ended.

  Chapter Ten:

  A Strangeness in the Air

  Vilmos awoke. He was terrified—and for good reason. He was not alone. The grove was occupied by those that were not of this realm.

  “Dark master, we heard your call upon the wind. The sign is in the east and the peoples of North and South gather. Is it time?”

  Vilmos tried to back away but quickly found he was surrounded. “You are men? There are men in Under-Earth?”

  “Less a man, less men, than once before. Come
with us. We will accompany you on your journey and ensure your safety.”

  “I don’t know where I am going. I’m lost. I lost my master.”

  “Lost your master?” The speaker started laughing—almost a cackle. “Lost your way?” He turned to his fellows, still laughing, and then he turned back to Vilmos. “Stranth was lost because of Kastelle and Adrynne, but you are never lost. This cannot be so. The tower awaits. Let us guide you.”

  Vilmos stared at the streaks of fire racing across the skies of Under-Earth. His longing was almost a plea for help but he didn’t cry out aloud—only in his thoughts. He stood uneasily. The robed figures took a few steps away as if in reverence. “Will you hurt me?” he asked.

  “Pain. There is always pain. Pain is all around us; it is within us and in the air we breathe. Pain is to pleasure as joy to sorrow. So what is hurt?”

  “But you will help me find my way? And you will take me to wherever it is that I want to go?”

  The hooded ones moved around Vilmos, circling and chanting. The one speaking never moved. He stood still.

  Vilmos gathered his belongings—what little he had—still eyeing those around him. “Do you have a name?”

  “Servants do not have names. They are best nameless.”

  “Do you have names?” said Vilmos indicating the group with his hands.

  “Think of us as your shadows. Your will is ours. We will walk with you to the end of your path.”

  “I don’t think the boy needs shadows!” said a voice in the distance.

  Vilmos turned, as did the hooded ones. He saw a mass of silvery armor, a great clubbed weapon held in an outstretched, mailed fist. The armored warrior seemed to be as tall and large as the trunk of a tree.

  Vilmos gulped as he looked down the length of the spiked club—a club that was nearly as long as he was tall. Vilmos backed away. The robed figures filled the space between him and the armored warrior.

  “You are making a mistake,” said the warrior. “Human meat just doesn’t taste as good as it used to. I’m not going to eat you. That is a promise, but what of your fellows? What are their plans for you? Do you know?”

  “They are friends. They have come to help me along my path. I will go with them if it is all the same to you.”

  “It is not all the same to me—I assure you! I have a great deal to do this day, so make your decision and be quick about it! You have a lot to learn if you are to get along here. Do you know what they will do to you when they find out you are not the one?”

  “He is the one,” hissed one of the hooded men. “The sign is in the east and he has come. We have come for him; he is ours. Leave us now or we will do what we must to protect that which is ours!”

  “You will now?” The warrior swung the great club around his head. The hooded ones cowered away. “Are you so sure of yourselves?”

  “Good morning, Myrial,” said Adrina quietly as she stretched through a waking yawn. “What hour is it?”

  “Late in the day, my princess. You’ve had several would-be visitors already.”

  “News of the elves?”

  “Not that anyone has said but I do believe you have a visitor waiting. He may have some news.”

  “He?” asked Adrina, sitting up, turning to the bedside.

  “Quite handsome I must say. I do find him striking, but I think he has eyes for you.”

  “Myrial, you play with me,” said Adrina putting on her slippers and going to the mirror. “You know I’m betrothed to Rudden Klaiveson and it is as it should be. My father is pleased and will dower all the lands between Heman in the north and River Opyl in the south. There’s a promise of a grand palace as well—but as to that I’ll have to wait and see.”

  Myrial started combing Adrina’s hair. “You care nothing of palaces and land holdings—I know this, so don’t try to make me a fool. What does your heart tell you? That is the question you must answer.”

  Adrina stood and went behind the changing partition. Her clothes had already been carefully laid out. “What of the household? How are you managing? I’ve heard good things from the cooks.” There was a moment of silence and Adrina repeated, “I’ve heard good things from the cooks.”

  “I think the cooks are right,” said a strong masculine voice.

  “Emel, is that you?” shouted Adrina. “Myrial? …Myrial, I’m not finished!”

  “Yes, Emel. Don’t worry I’ll keep the appropriate distance. I don’t want any rumors—but I couldn’t wait any longer. I’ve been pacing the hall for more than an hour.”

  “Do you have news of the elves?” asked Adrina as she straightened the dress about her shoulders, emerged from behind the partition.

  “No news of the elves.” Emel glanced to the window, to Adrina. “I’m being sent to the Territories: Krepost’. It is my father’s wish.”

  Adrina’s face turned pale. “Is this a punishment of some sort—like High Road last summer? I’ll speak to your father and to mine. This isn’t right!”

  “No Adrina don’t,” said Emel. “This is something I must do.”

  “Why?” cried Adrina, throwing her slippers at him. “Did you tell someone of the orb? Does this have to do with the attack? It wasn’t your fault. Don’t they know that?”

  Emel turned away. “I was the ranking officer on watch. It was my fault regardless and I have accepted responsibility. Exile in the Territories is far less a punishment than the alternative. My shortsightedness nearly cost your life and the king—”

  “My father? What does my father have to do with this? If he has any part in this, banishment has less to do with the attack and more to do with—”

  “Your father has nothing to do with the orders. It is my father, but it is my obligation as well. I have brought shame and dishonor.”

  “Shame and dishonor?” shouted Adrina. “How could anyone have known of a secret attack? Did you show them the orb? It has powers that will prove your innocence—magical powers that create a ring of silence. I know this to be true, I was there.”

  Emel walked to the window. “Listen to yourself. Do you know how that sounds? No, I’d rather the alternative. It is my duty to go and I will go. I’ve just come to say goodbye.”

  “Goodbye with your back to me? Look me in the eye Emel and tell me you don’t believe!”

  Emel turned to face Adrina. “I don’t believe. Nothing good will come of talk of the orb. I am sure of this as I am sure of no other thing. The Territories aren’t so bad—I’ll be Captain of Krepost’ Guard! It’ll be a grand adventure…”

  “Adventure? No one comes back from the Territories—no one!”

  Emel forced himself to smile. “Well maybe no one wants to come back. Maybe once they get there they find it’s such a grand place that they just don’t want to leave—maybe that’s the real secret.”

  Adrina was quiet and just when she was about to speak Myrial entered. “Adrina?” Myrial called out. “Sorry to interrupt but the lady elf is asking for you. I told Keeper Martin I would come straight away.”

  “Galan? She’s awake?”

  “Yes—and eating!”

  Adrina’s face showed relief and surprise. She turned back to Emel. “Go!” Emel told her. “I leave tomorrow morning at first light. There’s a supply caravan heading east and I’ll travel with it beyond the Wall of the World.”

  Emel handed Adrina a small leather pouch. “Take this! I won’t need it.”

  “The orb?” whispered Adrina.

  “Maybe you’ll have better luck with it than I,” said Emel as he turned away and left Adrina’s room.

  Adrina wrapped her hand about the leather pouch and then grabbed Myrial by the arm, saying, “Let’s go! I’ve waited days and weeks for this!”

  Emel watched Adrina go; his heart went with her. “It is done,” he whispered as he walked away in the opposite direction.

  A figure in the shadows whispered, “You have done right; this is as it must be. You know what you must do next—don’t delay any more than necess
ary. I’ll wait outside the city, on the morrow.”

  “On the morrow,” whispered Emel without looking at the speaker. He walked through the palace halls, leaving through the side entrance and making his way to the officer’s quarters within the central keep. Although the old keep was a part of the palace structure, it was separated by courtyards and gardens.

  Once inside the keep Emel passed his quarters without stopping. He went instead to his father’s official station within the keep. “Captain Brodst,” he said as he made his way through the outer door unannounced. “I’ve come to speak with you.”

  “So official,” said his father, looking up from his papers. “Please come in and sit down.”