by James Dale
“About the young Ellgereth,” Ara’fael said suddenly and he almost dropped the plate.
“What about him?” Jack asked, hopefully not too quickly.
“He sought me out after you left Perigaen,” she replied.
“And…” he asked when she didn’t continue.
“He is worried about you,” Ara’fael finally replied. “He told me of your…condition, when you awoke this morning. Worse than after your cleansing of the Land of Dreams, he said. If I had not sat by your bed and watched you…age…I would not have believed him. But now? You seem as fit as ever. Are you well, Jack Braeden?”
“Well enough,” Jack shrugged, offering her the basket of sweet rolls so she could take her pick.
Ara’fael raised her eyebrow. It was an expression he’d come to read as, “I know you are lying but I will let you continue to dig your grave.” She chose a roll and placed it delicately on her plate, waiting for him to continue.
“Okay, so I’m worried,” he finally admitted, taking a seat on the bed and selecting his own sweet roll. “Gabrael warned me not to take on too much power, but how else am I to learn? Ljmarn didn’t exactly leave an instruction manual. Yes, I’m worried. For some reason, Sunheart sucks the life out of me, but then shows me how to heal myself. For now, I guess, it is enough.”
“That worries me as well, Son of Bra’Adan,” the Ailfar replied. “It worries me you may accidentally snuff yourself out like a candle, while swatting at flies with a sledgehammer.”
“Is that what I’ve been doing?” asked Braedan. “Swatting flies?”
“You have one task Jack,” Ara’fael sighed. Braedan couldn’t be entirely sure, but it may have been the first time she’d ever addressed him so. “To kill Graith and destroy the Bloodstone. Do not misunderstand me. I know perfectly well why you sealed the Word and cleansed the Land of Dreams. Though the last might be seen as personal, both will aid us in the coming war but…the risk you took was too great. If I could lock you safely away in a trunk until we were at Graith’s door, I would stuff you in it this instant. I would let the Highswords and the Staffclave take care of swatting flies until it was time to let you out again.”
“So, what do I do until then Ara’fael?” he asked. “Sit back and twiddle my thumbs until you get me safely to the fight while other people, my friends, my wife, are in danger?”
“I want you to temper your recklessness Jack Braedan,” the Spellweaver pleaded. “I told you I was there with Ljmarn at the beginning. I was there at his ending as well. Fifty years he carried Yhswyndyr and not once did I ever see or hear of him being affected by it as you have been. He did not leave…instructions…because there is likely no way to describe how to use it. Take Gabrael’s advice. Learn slowly. There is still time yet. Not much, but there is still a little. Remember this as well, Yhswyndyr is also still a sword. You have managed to do many great things with lesser blades in the last year. Just…think…before you summon the power of creation every time a threat springs up.”
“Then get me to Dorshev, Ara’fael,” Jack replied. “Get me back to Anna quickly and I will use Yhswyndyr to slice bread for sandwiches while Perigaen and everyone else swats Graith’s flies.”
“Very well,” Ara’fael nodded, taking a bite of her sweet roll. “Four days. Three if I squeeze out every ounce of strength the Lords and Malik possess. Now about Dorad Ellgereth.”
“What about him?”
“Do me one small favor, please? See he does not bed Ailicia before I can talk to her parents?”
Jack almost choked on his sweet roll.
“Of course, I know,” she sighed. “The look on her face every time she sees the young man is almost as sickening as your panting after Annawyn. I will control her if you will…oversee young Ellgereth. Find him a kingdom to rule when this is over. It will make it more palpable for Ail’itharain to swallow. You and your match-making,” she sighed. “Who do you have lined up for Cilandrion? Or A’randrial? Some doe eyed Kadinar no doubt?”
“I know Mulla Khan has a daughter,” Jack said thoughtfully. “I wonder if she is of age? It would make it really hard to wage war when you have a bunch of olive skinned, green eyed grand-children bouncing on your knees.” He grinned.
It was Ara’fael’s turn to choke on her sweet roll.
The rest of the morning passed swiftly. The docks swarmed with inhabitants of Lordsisle and soldiers and all manner of activity. The most difficult out loading of the ships by far was coaxing the Val’anna aboard the one of the brigantines. Even below deck in the Wind searching for a bunk, Jack felt the distress of the proud horses. It was like a panicked wave of emotion washing over him. Someone had the bright idea of just blindfolding the mounts and leading them on the ship. For a regular horse, this may have very well worked, but it did not sit well with the intelligent breed from the Val’anna Runs.
Jack found Sky and began consoling him even before he made it off the Wind. The stallion was not panicked, just obstinately refusing to be led unseeing aboard. When Braedan reached them, he quickly removed the blind fold from the Val’anna and stroked his golden mane. “It’s okay Sky,” he assured the white beauty. “No harm will come to you or your kin. We are going on a trip across the Widewater. To a place of open fields so large the moon will change before you could run from end to end.”
“Is there truly such a place?” the stallion asked. Having been foaled and raised on Lordsisle, the stallion knew only of life on the small island.
Jack opened his mind and showed Sky all the places he’d traveled with Eaudrueil, from Dorshev all the way to Elvendale and back. He showed him the Greenrun plains and the passes of the Ruwe Mountains, and the hills of Amar. Before he could block Sky out, a vision of the Bergaweld was also shared.
“I do not like the Deadplace,” Sky said, his flank quivering with dread.
“Neither do I,” Jack admitted. “But Red Slayer has returned. It is up to me, up to Snow Hair and the other Long Sticks to see he doesn’t harm any of what you saw. To do that, we have to travel across the Deadplace. I need strong and brave Horse-brothers to carry the Tree Shadows and the Dragon men to stop him. Will you help us Sky?”
“You are coming?”
“I am Great Lion. With Bright Flame, I will ride beside you on Stout Heart. We will ride with Storm King and Young Dragon and many others to stop Red Slayer.”
“Are there apples in this place across the Widewater?” the stallion asked.
“More than you can eat in a lifetime,” Jack replied. “I will have White Hair bring you apples for the trip. It will only be a few settings and risings of the sun. The Tree Shadows will bring you out to the sun and let you see the water that has no end. They are Horse-brothers, though most cannot speak as we do, but they are kind, and brave, and love your kin.”
“We will go with you Great Lion,” Sky decided. Just like that, over a two score of Val’anna became as docile as lambs. Though no lamb ever stood eighteen hands tall and weighed two thousand pounds.
“They will be fine now,” Jack informed the frustrated crew that had been trying to load the Val’anna. “You are Maerion, right?” he asked the nearest Ailfar. He was the same as all his race; long blonde hair, green eyes dancing with childish delight, but filled with wisdom. He could have been fifty or five hundred.
“Yes, my Lord,” the elf replied.
“I promised Sky you would bring the Val’anna out on deck, when time and conditions permit of course, and you’d show them the endless sea,” he explained. “They have never been stabled before, and certainly not on a ship. You will need them fresh and hale when you reach land.”
“I am Ailfar, my Lord,” Maerion bowed. “We will be great friends by the time we reach the Ellsantain.”
“As much as it is within my power to grant, the Val’anna will be yours when this is done,” Jack replied. “I will speak to Sky.”
“We will not fail you, or them my Lord,” the Ailfar bowed again.
“Sky, the Tree Shadows wi
ll do as I asked,” he informed the Val’anna, when he was brought aboard the ship. “The Tree Shadows and dragon men will be Horse-brothers to you. You and your kin choose from among them who they will bear. Sky, you will likely not return to here.”
“I understand Great Lion,” the stallion replied, nuzzling his shoulder. “We will bond with them. We will bear them into battle against the Red Slayer.”
“I will see you soon, Sky,” he promised. “I will introduce you to Stout Heart, and you two can race to see who gets the brightest apples.”
“I will win,” Sky nickered.
“We shall see,” Jack laughed, patting the stallion’s neck.
With his latest match-making complete, Jack returned to the Wind. Preparations were nearly complete as far as he could tell. The flurry of the morning’s activity had been reduced to last minute checking of stores and gear. The Golden Lions were busy learning the tying of rigging and prepping of sails under the tutelage of some seasoned sailor with bright blue eyes and sea weathered skin as brown and wrinkled as old shoe leather.
“Done!” Cyran cried proudly, showing the old sailor the complicated knot he’d tied.
Arrgenn muttered something under his breath, tossing his rope to the deck as the rest of the Lions laughed quietly.
Jack moved on, leaving them to their training. He returned to his quarters and went through the trunk that had been brought over from Muriel’s Revenge, searching for clothes more suitable for sea travel than what he was wearing. He hadn’t brought much with him from Immer. He didn’t find anything resembling sailor garb, but he exchanged his silk shirt for a more light and breathable cotton one, and changed his fine trousers out for a sturdier pair. He briefly lamented on the loss of the Ithelmere mail Dorad had gifted, discarded as he struggled for life and lying somewhere at the bottom of Aeralnen Widewater with the corpse of Leviathan. Not that he thought it would be needed it but wearing the light mail had become like a second skin to him since getting it back as a wedding gift. The mail he’d been given on Lordsisle was suitable enough, but it just wasn’t the same. He’d have to get another shirt made as soon as he reached Dorshev.
Leaving Yhswyndyr on the bed, he emerged on the deck of the Wind prepared to help with anything that needed to be done just like any other seaman, but the change of clothes did nothing to alter the fact he was High King of Aralon, dressed in armor or otherwise. Most everyone he met either bowed to him or scurried from his path. Thinking to find some who would look him in the eye without bowing or cringing, he went in search of Ara’fael, only to find her in deep discussion with High Lord Perigaen and General Malik. The look she gave him plainly said she had no time for any more foolish questions or other outrageous requests.
It was going to be a long four days.
Barely another hour had past when the three brigantines of Lordsisle were loaded with all the supplies they could carry. The Val’anna were safely quartered below and all the men heading for the Ellsantain were ready to sail. The contingent of Lords that were going with them had received their final instructions from Perigaen. When Tarsus deemed there was nothing more which could be done, he ordered his small fleet to push off from the docks, oars were struck, and they were underway. He waved to Jack as his unnamed flag ship slipped passed the Winds of Aeralnen, a roguish smile on his face as if he were on a pleasure cruise and not headed off to war.
Braedan saluted him in the manner of the Dragon Guards, right fist over heart.
“You will see him again, my Lord,” Lord Faendil said, laying a reassuring hand on Jack’s shoulder.
“So you have said,” Braedan replied. “Anything new on the Seer front?” he asked, turning to the Lord.
“A moment is fast approaching that will seal an alliance of races. More I am hesitant to say,” Faendil answered, in his usual cryptic fashion.
“Will I know it when it comes at least?” Braedan asked. He liked the man and found the Seer personable, but the Lord’s refusal to speak plainly about his visions could be exasperating.
“You will,” Faendil nodded, perhaps sensing Braedan’s annoyance. “High King I have explained…”
“Yes you have,” Jack sighed wearily. “It’s just there is so much still unknown to me. It’s surprising I manage to sleep at all.”
“You bear a heavy burden,” Faendil replied. “I would…ease it if I could. Trust the High Lord Perigaen. Trust Lady Ara’fael. There are many, many capable people surrounding you who would help you carry this burden. If you would only lean on them more. My King.”
“Perigaen wishes to control me,” Braedan informed him. “Lady Ara’fael wishes to stuff me in a box until we are at the foot of Agash Thugar. I do…trust…them, but until Theros and Cilidon and their Highswords are at my side again, until my queen is safe and, in my arms, until I hear Kaerl has raised Norgarth, Yhswyndyr will continue to be my chief counsel. Unless you wish to expand your role?”
“As you say,” Faendil bowed, and turned, leaving him to his thoughts.
Braedan’s words were more harshly spoken than he intended. He did find the Lord personable. He also partly understood why he was so hesitant to reveal his visions. He would have to resign himself to accepting whatever the Lord felt free to tell him. He would apologize later and hope Faendil would eventually be more forthcoming as his confrontation with Graith grew nearer. But that day would never come sitting here on the docks. It was passed time for them to be on their way. Braedan went in search of Alnordel and found him with the High Lord and Lady Ara’fael on the bow of the ship, watching the three brigantines as they slowly disappeared down river. “King Jack,” the half-Ailfar captain bowed.
“When do we leave?” asked Jack.
“I am but waiting for the word,” Alnordel replied.
“You have it,” Braedan said. “The Wind is ready. The tide is in. I am anxious to be home.”
The captain looked briefly at the High Lord, who nodded.
“At once, King Jack,” Alnordel bowed. “Master of Sails!” he shouted, his voice carrying across the ship
“Captain?” Kaiddra replied from her place on the quarter-deck.
“Our time has come to depart Lordsisle,” Alnordel replied, addressing the Master of Sails and the rest of the crew. They had stopped their duties and turned to the watch the captain at his shout. “Ready the Wind of Aeralnen! King Jack wishes to dine in Dorshev before the week has passed!”
“Aye, captain!” Kaiddra replied. “Well…you heard him! Let’s get this tub moving!”
“Aye!” the crew shouted.
“We have one last thing to do before we leave Lordsisle,” Jack informed Alnordel.
“And what is that?” the Ailfar asked.
“I have no idea,” Jack sighed. “But Faendil says we will know it when we see it.”
The Wind of Aeralnen was soon underway. The inhabitants of Lordsisle stood on the docks and gave the High Lord Perigaen a rousing cheer. The High Lord, the only leader most of them had ever known in their lifetime of service on the island, was going off to war. Such a war had not been fought in eight hundred years. They cheered the new High King as well. Though they revered Perigaen, Braedan alone carried hope of final victory. As they cheered and waved, each inhabitant knew the High Lord would return in triumph, or the dark-King would come one day and sink the island into the sea.
And them with it.
It took them a few hours to make their way to where the river of Lordsisle emptied into Aeralnen Widewater. With each passing moment, Braedan wondered what monumental event was approaching Faendil hinted of. Sealing an alliance of races could mean almost anything. Perigaen warned Leviathan was not the only monster swimming the seas. Was there another monster waiting to waylay them as they began their journey back to Aralon? Or was there some other calamity the Seer Lord dared not reveal, for fear Jack would make the wrong choice based on his fore-knowledge?
When it came, it was something Braedan knew instantly he had no cause for fear.
The
sun was beginning to set behind them, casting a shadow over the island. But its last burning rays illuminated a sight no living soul, human, Ailfar or even the Staffclave had ever looked upon. On the edge of Aeralnen Widewater, the Children of the Sea had gathered to meet the one who had slain Leviathan and freed the ocean from its oppressor. There were hundreds of Aerfal'Miera and countless more of the Dau'tua, their allies and guardians, waiting for them. At their front, motionless among the gentle swells, was the Dau’tua Elder Mika, a smiling Elu, and a male Aerfal’Miera of stately grace and strength, with hair was white as sea foam, and eyes the color of the depths. In his strong hand he held a trident, like a symbol of power. He could only have been their king. When he saw Braedan, the male Aerfal’Miera bowed.
“Lower a boat!” Jack commanded, and practically ran from the bow.
Several of the ship’s crew hurried to obey, as Jack climbed aboard the nearest long boat. They untied the ropes and prepared to ease the boat to the water, but Jack held up a hand, stopping them. “Well hurry up Arri,” Jack said, motioning to the Ailfar prince.
He scrambled aboard with a grin.
“High Lord,” Jack said, turning to Perigaen who had followed them. “Would you care to meet your neighbors? I suppose you can come along as well Ara’fael.”
“I was coming whether you invited me or not,” the Ailfar Spellweaver smiled.
“Coming Faendil?” Braedan asked.
“I am coming,” the Seer Lord nodded.
When they were all loaded and safely seated, the crew lowered the long boat down to the water. Jack and Arrinor each secured an oar and rowed the short distance to where the three waited patiently. Mika chirped happily and did a raucous back flip, nearly splashing Ara’fael. Instead of her usual, expected scowl, the Spellweaver actually smiled. Elua swam up to the boat and leaned against the gunwale. Arrinor reached down and took her hand.
