by Nova Rose
Chapter VII
An Old Meeting
Nelyn placed her foot firmly on the soft earth balancing delicately on one leg, perfectly silhouetted against the backdrop of the Black Mountains. Poised, she held her sword high ready to strike. Within a moment, she attacked the air swinging her weapon with fluidity as she raised it again for another. She placed her other foot on the ground taking a measured step to the left. In one swift strike, Nelyn arched her blade to the left twirling around on her toes.
Clang!
“I am pleased to see that you have heeded my warning about failure to practice,” said Jarown.
Nelyn stared at her father a moment annoyed that he had interrupted her practice session. She had thought that she was alone. With ease, she unlocked her sword from Jarown’s and rammed it into its sheath. “You taught me that it was wise to stay in practice.”
“Yes, and I remember you always groaning about it being less than fun.”
“I have need to stay in shape.”
“We all do,” said Jarown looking upon his daughter with a mixture of pride and sorrow. “Nelyn, perhaps I was wrong to leave you behind, but I wanted to keep you safe.”
Nelyn eyed the grass beneath her, head bowed. “I know,” she whispered. “Belyndril has changed since you left. Little of it remains. And Blynak has returned.”
Jarown’s ears perked up at that last statement. He knew the name well. “Blynak?”
“Yes,” replied Nelyn. “But, it’s different. He was seen with those creatures.”
Nelyn knew the story of Blynak and how he had tried to take over Belyndril by overthrowing its king. Rumor had it that the man possessed the desire to conquer the five lands. But the King’s army ultimately squashed such a notion and Blynak disappeared. He resurfaced years later in Sym’Dul when a rebellion had sprung up against King Slyamal. Ironic, thought Nelyn, that wherever an uprising took place Blynak was there.
“Aligned with them?”
Jarown’s question brought her back to the present. “Yes,” said Nelyn. “He led the attack against our village. Inconsequential as we are to him, he seemed very interested in the people there. Why would he care about a remote town in the hills?”
“Does it matter? Blynak has always desired power. He wants to be a king unto himself. I am sure the attack was his method of spreading fear.”
Nelyn dropped the matter. Every time Blynak’s name was mentioned, her father acted as though he hid something. “They killed Nathan.”
“I know, my dear. I know.” Jarown stretched out his muscular arms and embraced his daughter. She accepted, but shed not one tear. Inside, he beamed with pride at the strength his daughter portrayed, but he knew that her heart had been broken and he was responsible. “I have something for you.”
Nelyn released him anticipating his gift.
Out of his pocket Jarown pulled a piece of a unicorn horn. The pearly white shard of the horn glittered in the sunlight as flecks of gold dotted it. It dangled freely from its silver chain. “This was once your mother’s,” Jarown told her. “I thought I had lost it years ago, but found it one day and meant to give it to you before I left.”
Delicately, Nelyn lifted up her blonde hair allowing Jarown to place the necklace around her neck. “It’s beautiful.”
“She used to wear it always.”
“Did you love my mother?” asked Nelyn.
The corner of Jarown’s eye tingled as a tear welled up. Quickly, he blotted it away. “Very much,” he replied.
The clomping of horses’ hooves charged up from behind them. Nelyn and Jarown turned to find each of the triplets on a stallion. They hung onto the reins with one hand while sword fighting with the other. Dirt and clumps of grass flew everywhere with each movement of the horses.
One pounded toward Nelyn and Jarown. At the last second, the rider yanked the reins pulling the animal to a halt. “Why hello there,” greeted Nedis. “Do you wish to spar with us?”
“I spar alone,” said Nelyn. She had received many cold looks from the men in the army and had no desire to be made fun of.
“Are you certain?” Nedis hopped down from his mount landing agilely on the grass. “But I suppose if you are unsure of your abilities—”
Without warning, Nelyn snatched Nedis’ hand, knocked him flat on his stomach, and wrenched his arm behind his back.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” said Nedis, knowing that she could break his collar bone at any moment.
“Nelyn,” said Jarown.
Understanding her father’s unspoken request, she released Nedis. He rose to his feet rubbing his shoulder. “We’ve nothing against you being a woman,” he said.
By then the other two brothers appeared clearly enjoying Nedis’ discomfort. “We could help you tie him up,” laughed Nular.
“I think you will find that my daughter is quite capable of taking care of herself,” said Jarown. “But a sparring partner is useful.”
“Yes, father,” said Nelyn, quietly. She hated being chastised even when done gently.
“Did you hear the news?”
Everyone turned to Nylin. “What news?” asked Jarown.
“King Slyamal is headed here,” replied Nylin. “He is coming to create a truce with Tesnayr. That is why we have been heading north for the Black Mountains.”
“And how do you know all this?” Jarown eyed Nylin accusingly.
“I hear things,” replied Nylin with a note of discomfort.
“You hear everything,” Nular said.
“I listen,” replied Nylin.
“More like eavesdrop,” chided Nedis.
The three brothers quickly ensconced themselves into one of their many friendly arguments. Sighing from frustration, Nelyn grabbed her things and left with Jarown close behind.
King Slyamal rubbed his hands to keep them warm from the cold. He sat close to the fire to ward off the chill from the air, along with the two guards riding with him. He scooped some of the loose silt into his palm before flinging it aside. Black, like the mountains’ namesake. Why Tesnayr chose the Black Mountains as a place to camp was beyond him. Those mountains proved inhospitable to any who ventured there. Not even the most hardened of men considered going into the Black Mountains. Always cold. Warmth did not exist there.
King Slyamal took out a piece of dried bread and bit off a chunk to chew. He missed the kitchens of the castle. A brush of movement caught his eye. Turning slightly, he found a black cat sitting by the fire staring at him. He took another bite. Slowly, the uneasy feeling that the cat was studying him washed over King Slyamal. He wondered if the feline was judging his character.
“Beat it, cat,” said the king.
The cat swept his tail across the ground and continued to stare at him. King Slyamal picked up a rock and threw it at the cat. The rock landed in the dust next to the feline. The cat never flinched. Instead, it began washing its face very delicately as though it had no worries and that King Slyamal’s feeble attempt to scare him away meant nothing. The king stood up and swatted at the cat. The cat scurried away into the bushes. Relieved, the king sat back down and continued to eat.
“Meow.”
King Slyamal turned abruptly to discover that the cat had returned. He shook his head in annoyance. Never had he seen a cat so determined to sit by a fire or be with people. “Go away.” King Slyamal hated cats and wished the pesky animal would leave. Angrily, he picked up a stick and prepared to swing it at the animal.
“Before you do that,” the cat said, stopping King Slyamal in mid-swing, “I suggest you listen. Captain Tesnayr has agreed to meet with you. Ride east of here to Diamond Rock. He will meet you there in two hours.”
King Slyamal dropped the stick and stared at the cat in disbelief.
“Incidentally,” added the cat, “You may want to be friendlier to cats in the future.” He bounded off.
King Slyamal turned to his two guards. “You heard him,” he growled. “Put out the fire and get the horses ready. We’
re leaving.”
Within minutes the horses had been prepared. They rode quietly through the night making their own trail in the mountains as there were none to follow. Though they moved cautiously, they made good time and within the two hour time limit they had reached a giant diamond shaped, granite rock.
Waiting for the King of Sym’Dul was a group of men and one cat. “I thought you said he was coming,” said Arnin to Turyn.
“I delivered the message and am certain he will come. Otherwise, his entire journey has been in vain,” replied Turyn.
“Arnin, men approach,” said one of the soldiers.
Arnin nodded and motioned for the men to hide. He stepped forward and waited. Out of the shadows three men trotted up on horseback. “Stop right there,” ordered Arnin.
“I have come to see Tesnayr,” said King Slyamal.
“And you shall,” replied Arnin. “Take their weapons.” The soldiers obeyed.
This insulted King Slyamal. “I was under the impression that Tesnayr himself would be here. Why does he not come and meet me?” demanded the king as his guards dismounted.
Arnin stepped closer and grabbed hold of the reins. “The last time he came to meet with you, you showed him the hospitality of your prisons. He is returning the favor. You will come with us and meet with him alone. Your guards are to stay here.”
“Us?”
“The cat will lead the way.” Arnin smiled at Turyn.
Reluctantly, King Slyamal agreed. “Well, you heard him,” he barked at his guards, “You will abide by these conditions.” He dismounted and followed Arnin and Turyn into the night.
Tesnayr sat in a tent poring over maps. He used his finger to point at various places mulling over strategies in his mind. He snatched a dispatch and read it making a circular motioned on the map with his finger. Frustrated, he threw the dispatch down and rubbed his hands over his face. He leaned back and exhaled a long, deep sigh in an effort to release some stress.
“Captain?”
Tesnayr looked up at the messenger that had just walked in.
“Arnin and Turyn have arrived with the King of Sym’Dul.”
“Show them in,” said Tesnayr.
Arnin and Turyn entered the tent followed by an irate King Slyamal. Tesnayr greeted Arnin and Turyn warmly and asked them wait outside. The two left Tesnayr and King Slyamal alone. “Well, well, the mighty king of Sym’Dul has left his throne to seek the help of a lowly messenger.” Tesnayr’s sarcasm was not lost on the king.
King Slyamal glanced around him frowning with each turn of his head. “I see that you have been promoted to the rank of captain. Why not take the title of general? You have your very own army.”
“I prefer captain. Generals are like kings: they think too highly of themselves.”
“Tesnayr, I know that you and I did not greet the other warmly last time. I am willing to overlook our differences—”
“Cut through the grime and tell me why you have come here,” said Tesnayr, impatiently.
“The orcs have invaded Sym’Dul. They approach from both fronts. Each battalion I send to stop the orcs is defeated. None are left alive. My people are suffering and demand that I do something.”
“And so you have come to me for help. What makes you so certain that I will be able to provide you with it?”
“Every engagement you have had with the orcs, you came out victorious. I know about your triumph in Belarnia. Your efforts saved the elves, for which I hear King Shealayr is very grateful.”
“As I recall, I once came to you for assistance. I warned you about the orcs and what it meant for your kingdom, but you refused to heed my warnings. You repaid my actions with imprisonment.”
“Imagine my surprise when I learned of your escape with one of my advisors.”
“I offered to help you once, but you refused. Why should I help you now?”
“It is not me you will be helping, but my people. They suffer each day the orcs roam free in these lands—”
“You are right! They are suffering! By your hand! And out of your own arrogance!”
“I did not come here to be insulted!”
“No? I suggest you listen because I have something you need to hear.” Tesnayr paced the tent. “Your pride has cost the lives of thousands. I will not be a pawn in your quest to reclaim your dignity.”
“I may have made a mistake, but do not let my people suffer for it.”
“Your people? You do not care about your people. You care only for yourself! If the people prosper, you prosper. If they suffer, you suffer. Suffer long enough and you might be replaced. They blame you for their losses and you came here to shift that blame on me.”
“I came here to ask for your help!”
“You came here not of your own free will, but because you had no other choice! And for once you listened to the advice of one wiser than yourself.”
“All right then, I am a fool! And you are right. I did not want to come, but my hands are tied. All my attempts have failed and I need a victory. I do not like you, Tesnayr. You are nothing but a disgruntled man who has managed to muster an army of others like yourself. You are triumphant for now, but that will pass. I am only here because at this moment you are the only man who can assist me.”
Exasperated, Tesnayr mulled over his choices. Deep within, he had already decided on a course of action. “I will help you. Your people needn’t suffer unnecessarily because of their king’s lack of judgment.”
“I welcome your assistance.” For once, King Slyamal sounded genuine.
“On one condition: your commanders will report to me. They will serve under me and obey my commands. And you will not contradict me. Let me dictate the terms of the battle.”
“I will not—”
“Those are the terms, King Slyamal. Either accept them or leave. You have my solemn promise that I will never serve under you.”
King Slyamal squeezed his fists until they turned white and sighed. “I agree to your terms.”
“Do I have your word on that?”
“Would you prefer that I make it an edict, in writing?”
“If a man is not as good as his word, what difference will the written edict make?”
“I give you my word as king that my soldiers are under your command. But I want to be kept informed of your plans.”
“That you shall.”
Tesnayr walked to the entrance of the tent and stuck his head outside. He came back in with both Arnin and Turyn. “Take the King of Sym’Dul back to Diamond Rock.” Arnin saluted Tesnayr and motioned for King Slyamal to follow him. “Send your men to Diamond Rock within the week,” Tesnayr told King Slyamal before he left.
“Understood.” With a sense of uncertainty, King Slyamal followed Arnin outside and into the still night air.
The next morning found Tesnayr seated on a rock overlooking his army’s encampment. He watched as Nedis, Nylin, and Nular played jokes on various people. They were always good for a laugh, full of life. The three brothers were inseparable, doing everything together. He liked them. Everybody liked them. The other soldiers tolerated their antics not because they had to, but because such frolics brought a smile to their faces and a moment of enjoyment in baleful times. The world needed people like the triplets. Inwardly, Tesnayr was thankful to have them.
Tesnayr glanced around and spotted Nelyn sitting by herself next to her small tent. For various reasons, she had secluded herself from the rest of the men. The men learned quickly not to venture too close to her tent. She put any who dared in his place. The only men she allowed to come near her was Jarown and occasionally the triplets. Like the others, she found them good for a laugh.
Tesnayr admired her courage. Most women did not have the strength to endure what his army had. Most men would have left by now and many had done so, but Nelyn remained driven by some private need for revenge and something else that he could not fathom. She never slowed them down. When they marched all day Nelyn could be found in the front lines. W
hen they drove themselves knee deep in mud, she trudged right alongside them. Nelyn slept when they slept. She never complained, nor did she demand any special treatment. Whining was not her nature. She volunteered for the life of a soldier and gladly accepted what such a life offered.
In battle Nelyn proved her worth many times. True to Jarown’s word, she was equal to a man in combat. At times, better. She fought fiercely with a courage Tesnayr had only seen once before. Yet, she also possessed the capability of showing mercy. In one skirmish, Nelyn disarmed three soldiers who were no more than fourteen. She broke their swords in half and let them go warning them that if they met again, they would not be so fortunate. To her they were not worth the kill, having been pressed into the service of the orcs. No other in his army would have done what Nelyn had. Tesnayr admired her for it. He knew that his men had been hard on her, but not once did he do anything. Any man who challenged her soon regretted such action.
Tesnayr noticed Arnin walk up to Nelyn. By their actions it became clear that they were engaged in another argument. After several minutes, Arnin stalked away. Tesnayr sighed. He decided to remind his men to treat Nelyn with the same respect that he had shown each of them.
Raised voices drew his attention. Tesnayr saw Jarown shouting at the triplets. Apparently, they had just finished playing a joke on him, one he found anything but funny. He did not know what he thought of the man. Jarown served well and Tesnayr left him in command of the men from Belyndril. He figured that they ought to be directed by one they trusted. But Jarown’s haunted eyes always hinted that something in his past gnawed at the man. Such an observation filled Tesnayr with uneasiness. Sometimes a man’s past catches up with him and makes him unpredictable. Tesnayr decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt. After all, Jarown did raise Nelyn. His actions displayed the love and respect he had for her.
Krulak strolled by. He waved a greeting at Tesnayr and Tesnayr reciprocated. A dear friend of Jarown’s, Krulak had proven himself to be quite valuable. He had demonstrated an aptitude for scouting and leading small raids. Because of him they had been able to destroy many small parties of orcs and to keep the beasts from regrouping for massive invasions. There were moments when he thought Krulak hesitant in fighting the orcs, or that the man hid something, but Tesnayr shrugged it off as something that all men feel when fighting a war.
A weight pressed down on Tesnayr’s shoulders as fur rubbed against his cheek, and then hopped down. Turyn stood before him waving his tail. “Arnin, Nigilin, and Jarown are ready to meet with you,” said the cat.
“Thank you, Turyn,” said Tesnayr. Turyn made a good messenger.
Upon entering the tent where the three men waited for him, Tesnayr relayed the conversation he had had with King Slyamal the night before. He told them everything the king had said to him about the orcs invading Sym’Dul.
“I have agreed to help King Slyamal drive the orcs out of Sym’Dul,” Tesnayr finished.
“What of Belarnia?” asked Arnin.
“They are safe for the moment,” replied Tesnayr, “Our main concern right now is Sym’Dul. Orcs are arriving on the eastern shores. They are most likely joining up with those at the northern border of Hemίl near the Amythest River.”
“Undoubtedly they are going to Belyndril. Orcs had already reached there when I left,” said Jarown.
“Or they are planning an invasion of Hemίl. The northern border is King Edrei’s weakest point as the orcs have been keeping him in the south. We cannot let this happen. Arnin, you are to go to King Edrei and ask him to join us. I have already sent him a message asking him to meet with you. I want him to bring his forces here.” Tesnayr pointed at Hemίl’s northern part of the map. “There is a unit of orcs there carrying supplies to Galbrok.
“Take half of our forces with you. You are in command.”
“How should I convince him to help?” asked Arnin.
“Diplomacy,” Tesnayr answered.
“What if King Edrei refuses our request?” asked Arnin.
“Then you and your men will fight alone,” replied Tesnayr. “Those supplies must not reach their destination.”
“Understood,” said Arnin.
“I know what you are thinking, but we cannot attack one before the other. If we were to attack the orcs at the Cym River first, there is a chance that they will send word to the orcs in Hemίl before we arrived there. We cannot chance that. We must surprise them at both fronts by attacking them at the same time,” said Tesnayr. “Everything depends upon speed and secrecy.”
“Krulak is familiar with the territory there in Hemίl. You should send him along as well,” suggested Jarown.
“Agreed,” said Tesnayr.
“King Edrei might not let Arnin command his army even if he agrees to help us,” said Nigilin.
“He will, if he wants to be rid of the orcs,” replied Tesnayr. “King Slyamal will be accompanying the rest of us to the Cym River. We will stop the orcs there and then meet you in Hemίl.”
Nigilin rubbed his beard in thought. “Are you sure this is wise? Hemίl and Sym’Dul have no love for each other.”
“I am hoping that current circumstances will rule over their emotions,” said Tesnayr.
“That is asking for a lot,” commented Arnin.
“King Slyamal has given me his word that the army of Sym’Dul will obey my command. However, if anything should go wrong, come straight back here to the Black Mountains.” Tesnayr looked at each of the men to be sure that they understood his instructions. Satisfied, he ended the meeting. “Arnin, you are to leave in an hour.”
“An hour, Captain,” said Arnin uneasily. He glanced at Nigilin who shook his head in response. Jarown looked at his feet.
“Is there something I should know, gentlemen?” asked Tesnayr.
“Well, you see, Captain,” began Jarown. “You tell him.”
Nigilin cleared his throat. “Tesnayr, something happened. And—”
A commotion sounded outside the tent. Tesnayr walked outside followed by the other three. Before him stood a group of men carrying what appeared to be a cake. On top of the cake sat Turyn wearing a collar made of lace and a pink veil. The cat did not look pleased. “Happy Birthday,” yelled the crowd.
“Turyn accidentally let it slip,” replied Nigilin to Tesnayr’s astonishment and unspoken question.
“How did he find out?” asked Tesnayr.
“I am a cat,” replied Turyn.
“And a cat knows everything,” said the others finishing Turyn’s usual statement about cats.
Gradually, Tesnayr paced around the cake and the cat. In his efforts to consider all possibilities of defeating the orcs, he had forgotten about his birthday. A part of him was frustrated at all the fuss, but another part figured that a moment of fun might be warranted. “Turyn, that color really does bring out the color of your eyes,” said Tesnayr quietly to Turyn, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Turyn looked up at Tesnayr. “You really think so?” Tesnayr nodded still trying hard not to smile. “Then I am sure that you will love the present I left on your cake.”
At that moment two women appeared out of thin air. They were both fairies and possessed a beauty most women envy. They each had light brown hair and hazel eyes. “Oh, a festival, Serein. I love festivities,” exclaimed one.
“So do I,” replied the other, otherwise known as Serein. “Sarwyn, you know what to do.”
Sarwyn smiled and threw sparks in the air which turned into confetti. The two women giggled with delight while everyone else observed them with curiosity and uneasiness.
Nedis, Nular, and Nylin looked at each other, recognizing the fairies as the two women whom they had followed on the same day they met Tesnayr. “Aren’t they the—,” said Nedis without finishing his statement.
“Yes,” replied the other two.
“Very well,” said Tesnayr, relenting, “Tonight we will celebrate. Tomorrow we have work to do.” Cheers went up at the prospect of ha
ving a bit of fun. “You two may stay,” he told the fairies as he walked past them. Not that it would have mattered. Tesnayr would have been hard pressed to get rid of them.
Tesnayr pulled Arnin aside. “Unfortunately, you and your men will not be allowed to participate. You must head for Hemίl now to reach it in time.”
Dismayed, Arnin kept his protests to himself. He knew Tesnayr was right.
“Take some of the food and drink with you,” said Tesnayr. “Celebrate when you stop to rest.”
“Yes, Captain.” Arnin walked away rounding up those who would accompany him.
Music flowed and danced throughout the entire encampment. They feasted well that night and the fairies kept an endless supply of ale flowing, which surprisingly did not have any after affects. Dancing and singing ensued. Even the skies opened revealing a vast array of stars twinkling with delight as everyone enjoyed themselves.
Turyn received numerous compliments on his pink veil, which Nedis, Nular, and Nylin had made him wear the entire night. Fed up with all of the comments, Turyn ripped the veil off. He swiped and slashed at the material. One man laughed at his efforts. Enraged, the cat snatched the veil in his teeth and shoved it down the man’s throat threatening revenge on the three brothers.
Before dawn arrived, Tesnayr sent a messenger to King Slyamal with the news of his request to King Edrei for assistance on the borders of Hemίl. Within hours King Slyamal stormed into the camp demanding to speak with him.
“Is it true?” demanded King Slyamal bursting in on Tesnayr. “You sent word to King Edrei of our plans?”
Tesnayr calmly faced the king. He had expected this reaction. “Yes, I did. We will need his help to attack the orcs on the borders of Hemίl. You are not the only king whose people are threatened.”
“You had no right to ask his help without my permission!”
“I have every right, lest you forget that you gave me your word that you would not interfere with the battle.”
King Slyamal closed the distance between him and Tesnayr. “I will not have King Edrei receiving glory on the battlefield.”
“No, because it is you who wants all the glory! If there is any to be had, it will not go to you. You are not even fit to be king.”
“I will not have King Edrei fighting in this battle!”
“That is not your choice to make. We need his men. The entire encounter depends on it. What is more important to you, King Slyamal: the protection of your people or the person who is glorified when this is over?”
“You just want your name praised throughout the land,” said King Slyamal, spitefully.
Tesnayr glared at the man. “If that were true then I would be king. Renown means nothing to me. I gave you my word that I would help you drive the orcs out of Sym’Dul. I will keep that promise.”
“If renown means nothing to you, then why do you fight the orcs?” King Slyamal whirled around and stormed out of the tent.
Tesnayr stared after King Slyamal as he left. He had been asked that question many times and each time he refused to answer. Whenever Tesnayr thought about why he fought the orcs he told himself that it was to protect those who could not protect themselves. The real reason frightened him and yet drove him onward.
“Listen up,” yelled Tesnayr gathering his men around him as he exited his tent, “We ride for the Cym River. When we succeed there, we will head to Hemίl. Should we lose the battle there, all of you are to return to the Black Mountains where we will regroup.”
“Fight alongside those of Hemίl,” spat King Slyamal from a distance. Despite his efforts to keep his voice down, it carried through the crowd. “I do not wish to join them in this fight. It’s…it’s preposterous! For twenty years, Sym’Dul and Hemίl have feuded.”
“Tesnayr, do you think King Slyamal will keep his word?” asked Nigilin when he finally had a moment alone with Tesnayr.
Tesnayr chewed his lip before answering. “Whether I think so or not does not matter. It is too late to change the plans now. We ride to war even if we ride alone.”
Nigilin gazed at the sky for a moment studying the moon that remained visible even in the sunlight. He released a long sigh. “I hope it is not in vain.”
Idæas walked up to them from the shadows. “Captain Tesnayr,” he called, “The men are ready.”
“Give them the order,” said Tesnayr.
Idæas saluted. He looked at the moon, which now seemed to be covered in a dark shadow. “A shadow covers the moon this day. There is treachery in the air,” he said to Tesnayr and walked off.
Nigilin glanced at Tesnayr. “Crazy elves,” he said.
Tesnayr clapped his hand on the man’s back and urged him along.
The army rode in the deceptively calm morning to what lay ahead. Partly for his reassurance, Tesnayr forced King Slyamal to ride at the front of the line with him. He wanted the king where he could keep an eye on him.
