To Rule by Right: A Dark Tale of Fantasy- 2nd edition

by Wayne C. Hannis

  Chapter 5

  Riding hard through the night and half the day, Oril reached Winter-acre bridge. It was a small community with a large inn on the west side of the Winter-acre river. This was the place he chose to meet his nephew. But first he needed to see someone who lived north along the river. He had sought her out in the past whenever he needed help and she was the only one who could help him now. Although, Oril had not seen her in many years.

  The trail was muddy with streams of water pooling up along the old waggon tracks that were partially over grow. The only sign of life were animal droppings and a few tracks, Oril could hear no birds or squirrels giving their warning calls. The Dense old trees shadowed him on both sides as he made his way north. He Oril could hear the river through the trees on his right. The roar of the rapids resonated all around him. The route made its way into a small clearing and opened up to a small wooden bridge, which seemed to be constructed out of the roots of the trees. It led to an old house on the other side of the river. It looked as if it had always been a part of the landscape. Moss covered the roof and dead vines climbed the walls. And massive trees grew all around it.

  Making his way cautiously across the wooden bridge, Oril made sure the clop of his horse's hooves could be heard over the cacophonous river. He did not want to startle the woman who lived inside. Once across, he dismounted and let his horse go and a small woman came out to greet him.

  “Oril Ahern,” she said with a smile. “I had a feeling someone was going to stop in today but I sure didn't expect you. With the appointed day so close and all. Even though you no doubt bring trouble, it is good to see you.”

  Oril walked up to the steps but deliberately stayed on the ground leaving her higher than him. “It is good to see you again, Valira Sherin,” he said bowing his head.

  She took a step down to where she could look Oril in the eyes. “You are the regent of this land and you bow your head to me?”

  “I do bring trouble, Valira,” Oril said looking into her soft green eyes. Her long blonde hair was blowing in the cool breeze that came from the river, revealing her long pointed ears.

  “Come inside where its quieter,” she said and Oril followed her into the house.

  A low smouldering fire was in the hearth. It gave off heat but no smoke rose up the chimney. Natural pine wainscoting surrounded the inside of the small cottage and shelves, full of books, lined the walls. A table sat in the opposite corner of the fireplace, with various ingredients scattered around. A door stood open directly across from him which led to a small dark room.

  Valira took Oril's cloak and hung it on the back of the door while directing Oril to sit in a chair by the fire place. And she bluntly asked, “So, why are you here, Oril?”

  “Othion Tacur,” was his only response, knowing she would understand.

  She nodded and sat in the chair next to him. “I was there when your father appointed him as adviser and before he banished all Elves from Tasmorea.” She sat lost in memories for a moment until she looked up. “I knew something was wrong with him back then but I was only a servant of the king's doctor and a half-elf- even worse than a full Elf.”

  “I'm sorry that happened.” Oril said hopeless in the matter.

  “That's past and the present is now. You've been a good man, Oril. Its too bad you can't be king.” Valira said with all earnestness.

  “I'm here to make sure my nephew becomes a good king,” he said pleading his case. “And for that to happen, I have to stop Othion. No one knows where he comes from and no one knows who he is. He just appears one day on the record, back in my father's reign. You're my last hope. There's some sort of magical shield around him that I haven't been able to penetrate and I'm hoping you can.”

  “I may have just the thing,” Valira said as she got up and moved a small table in front of Oril.

  Oril watched her as she went into the other room. She came out with a plain rectangular wooden box. Holding it by a handle, Valira set it down on the table. She removed the top by unlocking four latches on each side. The inside was full of padded green silk. Valira removed an oval mirror but it was dark and no reflection was cast upon it. The concaved glass was held within a boarder of polished bone, smooth and tarnished from age. The pedestal and holder were also made of bone. Lapidary inscriptions of the mystical language of magic were neatly engraved. It was a beautiful piece of art and Oril could feel the magic it bore.

  Valira grabbed a quill and ink to translate the symbols onto a piece of parchment. “It doesn't matter the words spoken,” she explained. “What matters is the understanding of the words written.” She passed the rendition to Oril.

  He adjusted the mirror so it faced him directly and began to read the words. “Through space and time, take my faster than light can travel.” The symbols began to glow an eerie green incandescent. “Show me who I desire to see. In silence let me spy the person I seek.” The black within the mirror began to swirl becoming grey and grew into a vortex. “Through space and time take me faster than light can travel to Othion Tacur.” The vortex lengthened and Oril could see things rushing past with in the mirror.

  Suddenly, the image cleared and hovered, like some ethereal being, above a moving caravan. In the periphery of the image he could see soldiers in front and in back, with three large trailers in the middle. Oril knew it was Coel's procession moving westward. He also saw a large creature walking beside the lead one, it looked to be made of stone and metal. The image slowly moved toward a destination. It passed a boy watching something and it seemed to Oril that he was looking right at him. The image blurred into the wall of the second carriage. The image stabilized toward the roof and swung around. Oril looked down at a creature he was not expecting. Its body was human, except his head was like that of a tiger. A Quelin tiger, from the jungles of Quelin, way in the south.

  Oril sat back and looked at Valira, “What is that? I thought I was going to see Othion.”

  “That is Othion,” Valira said, her eyes opening wide. “He's a Rakshasa.”

  “What? What's a Rakshasa?” he asked in disbelief.

  “They are one of the ancient Twisted Things, far older than hobgoblins and far smarter. Very strong in magic. Only in history books have I read about them. I thought they only lived in Quelin and very few of them. Look at the glow around him- it seems he does have an illusion about him.”

  “That's probably why he looks human,” Oril said more to himself. A mirror that looked similar to Valira's sat on a table in front of Othion. He recognized images of Daloseos but they were erratic, as if Othion could not find what he was searching for. It visualized on an old house on the edge of a river and then surged in. Oril jumped when he suddenly saw himself reflected within Othion's mirror. The image swooped down upon the table and the mirror on it. Othion grinned a sinister smile within his own reflection, showing his feline teeth.

  With one swift move, Valira stood up, covered the mirror and said a single word. Eight candles instantly ignited. “Damn it,” Valira cursed. “I should have taken precautions.” Oril was back in his chair, feeling his heart beat in his chest.

  ****