Tarthur and Derlin began walking northward into the forest, whistling happily. While it wasn’t much of a quest, it certainly did have some potential.
They talked a lot, laughing and recounting stories of old adventures as they walked onward with the morning mist just beginning to burn off. Both were in good shape, and they covered a fair amount of distance before they stopped for a lunch of bread and cheese. They drank a little water, and were on their way.
For dinner Judith had made a stew, all that was left for Tarthur and Derlin to do was to heat it. It took them a while to find an area that was clear enough for them to build a fire. The trees had been getting thicker progressively throughout the hike, but eventually they found a small clearing. They thought that maybe they shouldn’t make a fire since it could let somebody know where they were, but thought it didn’t really matter since there were a few pillars of smoke from various huts billowing up into the sky. The stew was scrumptious, and the boys soon settled into bed after their first uneventful day.
The next day Tarthur and Derlin awoke, their cloaks wet with dew. They struck camp, ate some more bread and cheese for breakfast, and started walking north.
Their progress that day was mixed. While they took a great many steps forward, their net progress was much less than the linear distance traveled. It was easy enough to tell which way was north, but they often had to retrace their steps due to the lack of any clear trail. Tarthur himself almost fell into several ravines. Tarthur had hoped to make it to the merfolk before nightfall, but was forced to make camp again. Paths that were hard to find in the daytime would be impossible to traverse at night.
The next morning they woke up early while it was still dark.
“I really wish we didn’t have to get up so early,” Tarthur complained. It was before sunrise. The boys had agreed that since they didn’t know how far it was to the merfolk, they needed to give themselves as much time as possible to make it there that day. They could spend the night conversing with the merwizard, but if they didn’t make it that day the night would just be more wasted time. Getting up early had been part of Tarthur’s job back in Krendon, though as a matter of principle this does not mean that he did it.
Derlin looked at Tarthur, but didn’t have anything to say so he just shrugged and started walking. They continued in silence for the hike. The paths were easier to find as the trees became thinner. Although it was only a short hike, by the time they came to the hill Tarthur was sweating profusely.
As they reached the top of the hill, Tarthur looked into the valley and saw an endless plain stretching before him. Zelin had lied to him—to cross this plain would take days, even weeks, if it even ended at all. Tarthur didn’t know Zelin all that well. Perhaps Baron Ercrilla had convinced the old wizard to play a trick on Tarthur and Zelin was the one who had caused Tarthur’s dream. Tarthur was thinking that would be the most involved prank yet… It was then that he saw the sun.
The first strands of ambient light came streaking across what Tarthur had thought was the plain, but was now revealed as the ocean. The rays danced and reflected each other nimbly, creating an endless burst of colors streaking out in every direction. In short, it was the most awesome sight he had ever beheld. Soon the sun was shortly above the horizon, spilling its sparkling radiance out over the whole sea. The ocean reflected it back, ready to warm the land. Tarthur knew it was worth it, worth a hundred mornings of getting up when he was still so tired, just to see this one morning sunrise. He seemed to remember somewhere at the back of his consciousness that someone had once said that a sunrise on the shoals of the merfolk was the most beautiful sight in the whole world. It was then that he realized the ocean was empty.
* * *
Girn felt sad. He was being disloyal to Tarthur and Derlin. He should’ve gone with them. But then, whom was his real loyalty to? The king? He had pledged his loyalty to King Garkin when he was old enough to know what he was saying—everyone in the kingdom had to. His parents? They were both dead, dying when he was an infant. They had deserted him when he was little, and besides, even if his loyalty was to them, what could he do? Zelin then? The wizard had befriended him when he was opting for an apprenticeship. He even paid him for his work, a rare quality to find in a master. All Girn did was take care of the grounds and run errands. But he had known Tarthur and Derlin before he had known Zelin. Tarthur had befriended him when he had lived in the orphan and servant’s quarters. Girn remembered when Tarthur had taught Girn and the younger Derlin how to steal, or as Tarthur used to euphemize it, “permanently borrow.” The three had accounted for over ninety percent of the town’s crime problem. Of course, it was never major things that they stole, only small items. Girn did not have the heart for the life of crime, and Derlin’s morals had a way of taking over. So in the later escapades they usually convinced Tarthur to do things that, while they were fun, were legal at the same time. So to the boys, now almost men, he thought, must go his loyalty. Nothing was happening in Krendon anyway. Girn sensed that Tarthur and Derlin would need his help soon. What then could he do to help them? They were many miles away. No, in actuality, they were not that far, and they might be in trouble. If only he could find some way to get to them.
Well he could walk, couldn’t he? He was the fastest in the village of Krendon, so why not rejoin them? If they were coming back to Krendon, he could even meet them on the way. Then, once they saw that he was valuable, they could take him wherever they were going. Girn didn’t really care where, as long as they went somewhere exciting. This plan sounded very good to Girn, who in fact needed no convincing at all. If anybody would have been watching him that night, they would have seen him enter Yrean’s shop, unprofessionally exit with a traveling cloak and a small sum of money, and head off to the north.
* * *
Derlin was worried. Where were the mermen? He scanned the endless expanse of the sea, and saw nothing but a few shoals of rock, against which the water constantly lapped.
Then they came. It happened slowly at first. It seemed like the shoals were rising, or the water was descending, or a combination of the two, Derlin did not really know. Derlin had never seen a merperson before; subsequently he was totally awed and inadequately prepared for the spectacle that met his eyes. They rose slowly at first and soon he could differentiate between the males and females.
The mermen had a strong torso constructed almost all of muscles and scales, proceeding downward to an equally muscled fin. This fin had to have incredible power in order to keep the top half of the merman above water. Derlin had no doubt that a weak and sickly merman could easily out swim the best human swimmer. The mermen had huge hairy chests, and burly arm muscles. They had long, flowing, golden hair. The mermaids, on the other hand were much like their counterparts in that they had strong fin muscles, but theirs were slightly smaller, partly because they were slimmer and didn’t have as much weight to carry. They had hair that covered nearly half of their bodies and were very beautiful.
Derlin noticed that there was a man standing in the water next to the merfolk. Derlin wasn’t sure, but it seemed that the man had just arrived as well. Perhaps he had also journeyed to see the sunrise. Derlin looked closely at the man. He was short, but not overly so. He had long flowing black hair, which on first impression made him look like a woman. He was armed with a very handsome long bow and a simple short sword. He was wearing leather armor, which had a dark green stain on it. On his head was a simple green hat with a feather in it.
“Hello there, Dalin,” one of the mermen called out. He was slightly older than the rest, and his beard was graying. “We welcome you and your companions to our humble shoals.”
Dalin looked around, confused. He fixed his gaze on Tarthur and Derlin. “I journey alone.”
The merman looked directly at the boys, and Derlin couldn’t read his face. Was he happy to see them? Was there distrust in those eyes? He had never considered that they would not be able to see the merwizard, or that they might not be well rec
eived.
Tarthur spoke up. “My name is Tarthur and this is my friend Derlin. We live just south of here in the town of Krendon. We came here to learn how to make Air Bubbles.” Derlin was glad that Tarthur decided to be lie. It was better not to speak to the community at large. What if there were divisions within the community? What if the merfolk had their own Morty? Everyone knew the stories about the bubbles of air that mermen made in order to help them breathe underwater.
If anything, it seemed as if Dalin was ignoring them. “Truin, my old friend, it is good to see you again after all these years,” Dalin bounded into the water.
“Tell me, Dalin, what brings you to these parts? I haven’t seen you in years.” Truin enthusiastically tried to start a conversation with Dalin. Dalin put a finger to his lips. We will talk, he implied, later.
As the boys went into the chill, but rapidly warming water, Derlin noticed that they only needed to swim a little way, and then they could walk on the shoals.
With that a brown-haired mermaid took Tarthur and Derlin to a small room in the shoals.
* * *
Dalin took a comfortable seat in Truin son of Thruin’s shoal. Comfortable seats were at a minimum, (in fact there were only two more in all of the shoals) since only an occasional visitor wandered in. The merfolk were very hospitable when they got the chance, which was not often. Truin Thruinson, Dalin chuckled inwardly at the name, was of high rank in the colony. He was a general and had total control of the wartime forces, which could sort of be called a navy. He was also part of the Council of Elders of the village, which acted as their government. The merwizard himself headed this council.
Dalin wondered about the two boys he had seen earlier. Something about them seemed odd, as they were hiding a secret. They certainly didn’t come to learn to make Air Bubbles. He would find out soon enough, he promised himself.
Dalin took off his hat, and pulled back his long hair. This helped reveal who he really was, exposing his slanted brows and pointed ears.
“So,” Truin began, “what brings an elven prince like you to us in peacetime? I hope it is my wife’s cooking and my kokhor.”
“I wish it were so, although you know kokhor is too strong and bitter for me.” Kokhor was a potent beer-like drink that mermen made with seaweed and other ingredients. One bottle could make a man comatose for several days, but it just made the stronger mermen drunk. “No,” Dalin replied shaking his head. “I am sorry to say it but our outlying villages are being pillaged by small monsters. They come in the night and kill.” Dalin’s tone was grave.
“Still,” Truin replied, not fully comprehending. “Your father has an army. Why doesn’t he take care of it?”
“He has tried and many have been slain. We can take care of the situation for now, but I just thought you should know. We at least want you to be alert and ready for a quick mobilization of your troops. We fear the hand of Darhyn.”
“Do not say that name in here.” Truin reprimanded. “Whenever you say his name he grows stronger, and his greatest weapon is fear. Thank you for coming to tell us this. If the Dark One is planning something, the whole world will be swept up in war and we would do well to begin preparations. The council meets tonight, and you may come make a full report. If they hear it from you, they may be persuaded to begin training of our army, which I must sadly admit has fallen a little bit during this era of peacetime.”
Dalin agreed. “My father’s army has fallen also. Yet, training has begun in earnest again. I know that our peoples are friends on the surface, but I was also sent to cement a formal defensive alliance if the Dark One attacks.”
“I don’t think a defensive alliance will be any problem. We certainly don’t plan on starting any attacks, however. If you have sufficient proof that something serious is indeed happening, the council should easily agree to join up. Have you made an alliance with the humans yet?”
“We sent a messenger to them, but he hadn’t returned by the time I left. I assume that they will behave likewise, however.”
“Let’s hope so,” Truin mused. “We’ll need our combined strength if it turns out to be what you think it is. I pray that it is nothing more than isolated bandits. Or, it is also likely that some overzealous goblin captain is uniting the tribes, and trying for Breshen. That happens every once in a while, and is probably what is happening this time. Still, it is better to be prepared for the worst. In any event, prepare a good speech my friend, and have some yourself some ghtysa.”
Dalin nodded his agreement and left for the kitchen.
* * *
Tarthur and Derlin followed the mermaid for a few feet into a small, hollowed out shoal. It seemed to Tarthur that all of the shoals were about seventy-five percent under water. This allowed them to spend the majority of their time in the water, but still breathe freely. While the mermen could hold their breath for a long time, they didn’t have true gills as fish did. They could create several Air Bubbles and use them one at a time if they needed to stay under longer. At least, those were the legends that Tarthur had heard. The boys took uncomfortable seats on some rocks and let their feet dangle in the water.
“Hello,” the cheerful mermaid said, emerging from the water. “My name is Wera. I am Truin’s wife. I have heard that I am to show you about Air Bubbles?” she finished questioningly.
“No,” Tarthur said. He knew it was now time to confide in someone the true reason why they were there. “Zelin has sent us to talk to the merwizard. It is a matter of grave importance.”
“I’m afraid not,” Wera replied. The shock of this remark cut into Tarthur and Derlin like a knife. They had never expected that this was possible.
“But, but…why?” Tarthur blurted out. After coming all this way to be turned down, they must see him in secret. In this Tarthur gained newfound resolve.
Wera’s answer shattered his resolve. “Because Tustor, our merwizard, is dead.”
“Dead!” The pair shouted at once. Then their whole mission had been a waste. Tarthur felt inwardly betrayed. What if Zelin had known all along? No, Tarthur conceded, he didn’t see how that was possible. Still…
“Who, what, where, when, why, and how?” Derlin immediately rattled off.
“I will tell you all I know,” Wera sighed, overwhelmed by emotion. “Three nights ago Tustor retired to his study to sleep. He had a little too much kokhor, our powerful drink, but he wasn’t too drunk, because he is very strong. However, he is also very old. The next morning, we all heard a shout of joy. When we arrived at his house,” at this part in the narrative she paused, trying to ignore the tears that came flowing up. “He…he was dead, with a look of utmost pleasure on his face. I doubt even the Water Orb could raise him now.” She finished the last of the narrative with a look of great loss on her face.
Tarthur gave a long look to Derlin. They both knew what had happened two mornings ago. “Can you take us to his grave?” Tarthur said, breaking the silence. At once he felt stupid for saying this. What good could they do now? They might as well return to Zelin and admit defeat. He almost retracted his question when the last thing Wera had said hit him. If he could read the spell then they might have a chance. A small chance, sure, but a chance nonetheless.
“Well, yes,” she said, not fully comprehending. “I will take you there tonight.” The boys spent the day worrying and playing in the water. They had lunch of some kelp-like dish that was tasty. With the afternoon came rain. Derlin looked at Tarthur and knew he was planning something, but he didn’t ask and Tarthur didn’t tell.
The path to the Merwizard Tustor’s shoal was not long. After ten minutes of half walking-half swimming that surely was not made for humans, they emerged on a small island of rock that protruded from the water surrounding it. Tarthur pulled out the scroll and to the equal amazement of Derlin and Wera began to read it aloud…
* * *
Lithar Lifehater was frustrated and angry. He, the general of Queen Marhyn’s armies, had been assigned to patrol duties! He was a
man, a long time ago. He had undergone the black rituals of secrecy that Queen Marhyn demanded, and he had sworn his allegiance to her. In return she had promoted him to general of her armies and given him the power to use magic and to feel its use by others. He had served her faithfully for a long time, and now he did not understand being sent on patrol with eight worthless goblins. There were only seven now, he had killed one for falling behind in the grueling marches he had made them endure.
In the black expanse of camp behind him, a dinner bell rang. A coarse, guttural, impersonation of the human tongue called out that it was time for their evening meal. Grudgingly he got up and received some slop that these goblins dared call food, and slapped the cook with the back of his hand for making a mockery of an edible substance. Grumbling, he took a couple bites, spat it out, and threw the half-full plate at the cowering cook. He missed, and the metal tin bounced harmlessly on a nearby rock. Lithar looked to the sky. Good, he thought, a storm. The black clouds rolled up, quickly blotting out the sun. Ah, he reflected, this is a good sign. It is like when the armies of Marhyn will blot out the sun of Garkin. Lithar would never acknowledge Garkin as the rightful king of all the land. As completely and swiftly as the clouds blotted out the sun, so too would Queen Marhyn’s forces sweep across the plains to achieve absolute victory. It began to rain. The sniveling goblins hurried to their tents, but Lithar did not move a muscle. It was then that he felt the Water Orb.
* * *
Far away, a man more powerful than Lithar, but with a much better disposition, sat and worried. He was too old for this. The rain pattered harmlessly against his window. He hadn’t been troubled much by the disappearance of Girn. Zelin could guess easily enough where he had gone. He felt a tingling at the edges of his being—something was about to happen. Zelin had seen many years roll by, and he was more sensitive than most to the workings of magic. Then he felt a surge as a flare of magergy washed over him. The strain of the magic being used was so powerful he had not experienced anything like it for quite some time. Then abruptly it faded, clearing from his mind, as if it had never been. In that brief moment, he knew. He had seen Tarthur use the Water Orb. Why? Tarthur, as far as Zelin knew, didn’t even have control over the Orb. Had Tustor shown him how to use it? Had someone made him use it? And besides, the Water Orb was out of the world. Had Darhyn brought it back already? There were many questions to answer. He would call for Addyean. The knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Zelin got up and went over to answer it. The flash of lightning illuminated the figure at his door.
Lands of Daranor: Book 01 - DreamQuest Page 3
