“I have my Liege,” answered Lord Arovan with care. He wasn’t sure where the questions were leading. “More by luck than good judgement.”
“But you could tell me what you know. I am deeply worried, as are the other kings. High King Calaelen has called us to council where we shall ponder over the problem and debate what must be done. At last, I believe he has realised that we of the woods are in need of help. King Oronar of the Mountains has been asking for aid for a long time now. His numbers are even smaller than ours. High King Calaelen could provide many warriors to help us defend both our kingdoms from what comes from out-world.”
“He has never offered before,” warned Lord Arovan. “What has changed?”
“I am not sure,” said King Huor, “but I intend to find out.”
“I will help all I can, my Liege.”
“And,” added the king, “I am not yet sure King Oronar can be trusted.”
“Oronar?” exclaimed Lord Arovan. “His kin and his kingdom have ever been in close alliance with our kin and us.”
“The T’Quel is in his kingdom,” King Huor reminded him.
“It borders our own too,” protested Lord Arovan. “No, I believe that you are wrong. He is as much concerned with the progressing instability of the T’Quel as we are.”
King Huor desisted from replying to this and stood silent for a moment, as if pondering whether or not he should ask another question. He decided he could.
“What is the out-world like?” he asked. The question was not one Lord Arovan had been expecting.
“Not like ours at all,” Arovan replied. “It would take days, years even, to describe it to you.”
“What sorts of creatures live there?”
“They are much like us although not elven-kind. They call themselves mankind. They are industrious and most of them live in large cities. There are pretty areas too, some very like our own, the forests and the hills. They fly in mechanical long cylinders they call aeroplanes. They don’t have dragons and gryphons as we do. Like us, they have families and homes and they are very concerned with what they call ‘making a living’, overly so in my opinion. Money they call it. The way they live creates much damage to the environment, they call it pollution, although they are taking steps.”
“Magic?”
“No magic but they do possess stories and fables about it. My guess is that magic existed there once, a long time ago.”
“I am sorry Arovan,” said King Huor, changing the subject again, “about the deaths of your family.”
“I grieve,” said Arovan.
“Are you sure they are all dead,” said the king. “Perhaps one yet lives? Lady Aranel?”
“No,” answered Arovan, the very picture of a grieving father and husband. “All my children are gone.”
He wasn’t sure why he felt he had to hide the truth about Aranel’s survival from the king, his own liege lord. He should have been telling him the truth but he thought it best he did not. Who knew how many spies were lurking and listening. King Huor had never been a demonstrative elf but to Arovan it appeared that his king was hiding information.
What was also holding him back was something Rohir had said, about not trusting anybody, not even the very highest. Of the four who knew of Aranel’s survival, two had gone back to their homes some distance from Tanquelameir. Rohir had refused to enter the castle with him and had melted back into the forest.
“It’s best they think you escaped on your own,” he had said, adding, “My Lord … don’t trust anyone. You will find me when you have need of me.”
Lord Arovan intended to follow that advice. He would not even tell his own king what was happening, at least not just yet awhile.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 18
‘With drooping fog as black as acheron.’
(A Midsummer Nights Dream)
(William Shakespeare (1564-1616))
OUT OF THE MIST
The T’Quel mists were menacing and turbulent. It was as if a storm was raging inside its depths. Some people living ‘on the other side’, in what the elves called the ‘otherworld’ would have likened it to a mix between a hurricane and multiple tornados.
A tense-visaged Prince Amras Telemienar stood waiting with his warriors of the Fourth, the Seventh and the Eleventh Nosse, some four hundred and fifty strong. Every elf present suspected that this incursion, if anything did come through, would be a bad one. He had already sent to Nossepresidium for reinforcements.
Isil said as much to his shield partner who nodded, nervously.
“You all right girl?” the old warrior asked in a gruff voice.
Enelya nodded. It felt strange to be standing in rank with some-elf other than Aranel.
All leave had been cancelled and when word had arrived via unicorn-riding messenger, Enelya had packed her kit, said her farewells to her family and left, riding one of the spare unicorns that accompanied the messenger. When she arrived back at Nossepresidium, she found it bursting at the seams with warriors and officers together with their shield partners and the sundry other personnel that keep the army equipped and fed.
Aranel hadn’t been there.
During the journey she had learned of the attack on Tanquelameir and of the disappearance of Lord Arovan and his family. There were rumours beginning to circulate in the overcrowded buildings saying that he was still alive. These rumours were, however, still unconfirmed.
Of Aranel, her shield partner, there was no news as yet and she was catching the occasional pitying look from various members of the Fourth Nosse, especially those who knew about her and Aranel’s friendship. A warrior and his or her shield partner were always close. And it wasn’t just Enelya’s own Nosse who knew about Aranel’s disappearance. A goodly proportion of the entire King’s Nosse, his whole army, was present at Nossepresidium. Enelya had heard Isil say that there were now over a thousand stationed there, the accommodation cabins were at bursting point, and there were more billeted in temporary camps along the river.
Why King Huor had transferred them all here neither Enelya nor Isil knew. Prince Amras, who was in overall command of the army hadn’t seen fit to explain as yet and excited explanations, most of them only fit for credulous minds, were rife.
“You all right girl?” repeated Isil.
“I, I feel a little strange,” Enelya answered.
“Me too,” Isil’s craggy face was wry. His shield partner was in the infirmary back at Nossepresidium, having, of all things, tripped over a wine butt some ten days before. It had been such a crazy accident and had caused much hilarity in the accommodation cabins throughout the keep. His leg was broken.
Their Nosse commander (Prince Amras had delegated command of the Fourth Nosse to another officer when he had taken overall command of the army) had ordered that Isil should join with another shield partner meanwhile. He had chosen Enelya from those unattached and therefore available.
She had been surprised and pleased. There had been other, more experienced shield partners that he could have chosen, but he had made a beeline for her and placed his hand on her shoulder with nary a glimmer of hesitation. He had told her later that he had been impressed with her abilities when they had fought against the Vikingr and that he had experience enough for both of them.
Isil was like a calm rock beside her and Enelya felt her breathing begin to even out.
There was pressure forming inside the swirling, devilish mists, Enelya could feel it, it was buffeting against her and she was beginning to find it difficult to keep the shield upright. Isil placed his own hand at its top to help her. Enelya felt her ears pop. It was getting noisier too.
“Now remember girl,” Isil was shouting above the howling wind. “If warriors like the Vikingr come through – stick to me like glue and shield me as you would Aranel. If it is those nasty reptile things like what came through a couple of summers ago, drop your shield and use your sword and knives, in both hands. Shields be no use against the likes of them.”
r /> Enelya nodded.
Suddenly the churning winds died. There was an eerie silence. The mist was a deep, vibrant purple.
Isil tensed. Enelya tensed. Every warrior and shield partner tensed.
Prince Amras tensed.
“Ready,” he yelled.
And then they heard a distant beating sound from within the mist. It was irregular. Gradually, the sound grew louder; it deepened and then stopped. This happened three times. There was a murmur from the ranks, stilled by the commanders. After a few moments silence the noise started again. The cadence of the beating remained spasmodic but it no longer stopped, it grew louder. It was no longer a beating sound. It had become a haphazard pounding. They could feel it in the ground beneath their feet. The tempo changed to the quickness of hollow thunder.
Enelya swallowed. What could possibly be making such a noise? Visions of the giants of legend came into her mind.
She could discern shapes in the mist, dark, darting shapes and then all of a sudden, they emerged into the sunlight.
It seemed that there were hundreds of them and they were all running towards the elf ranks.
“Ergott!” Isil swore. “Here we go again!” Isil had been one of the warriors present when the previous incursion of the bloodthirsty reptiles had arrived in Alfheimr.
The feathery creatures didn’t show any fear, they just ran forward into the attack. They weren’t very big. The largest of them was perhaps as tall as an elf’s waist but they had strong back legs and they ran upright. Each hind foot had a sort of sickle-shaped claw attached to its end, where the toes of an elf would be. Their front legs were smaller than their hind legs and they had, what Enelya could only describe as hands, the digits of which ended in another long, sharp-looking claw. Their tails were long, the same length as their bodies and swung from side to side as they ran. Their heads were the most frightening things about them. They had long snouts and two visible rows of sharp white teeth – killing teeth. These creatures were most definitely carnivores. Their reptilian eyes were flat and moved constantly.
They could run very fast. Their vanguard was in front of the elf ranks almost before they could blink and, just before they reached sword length away, they jumped up and over the front rank and down into their midst.
About twenty of the reptiles had jumped and soon the area resembled a melee of carnage as the reptiles went for elf after elf using their teeth and all four limbs. Their tails were also a problem as they continued to swing around knocking many warriors and shield partners off their feet.
It was, however, a foregone conclusion that the elves would be able to kill the twenty. The reptiles were outnumbered and presently all twenty lay dead on the bloodied ground. Six elves were also dead.
“Watch out!” warned Prince Amras. “Eyes front! Reform ranks!”
The shaken elves obeyed as fast as they could but not fast enough. Before Prince Amras had an opportunity to order an advance so that his elves could destroy the other reptiles who were bunched in a group, a chittering noise erupted from the reptilian group and they began to move. They moved, not towards the elves but to either side of them, in an endeavour to escape into the forests.
Prince Amras ordered the ‘give chase’ but it was too late. The reptiles could run much faster than the elves.
They melted into the forest.
“These are intelligent,” Isil noted to Enelya. “I didn’t think so the last time. Did you see what they did? Those that attacked us came forward to try our mettle and lost. The others realised this and decided that flight was their best option.”
What scared Enelya was the thought that now about eighty or so of these creatures were running free in the forest, able to hunt and kill any prey that was unfortunate enough to cross their path. Prey, which could also include innocent elvish families.
That thought had occurred to Prince Amras too. At once he ordered his unicorn-riding messengers to go and report on this to King Huor. He told the unicorns to use their telepathic skills to warn their fellow unicorns and also asked them to go forth to warn those living further afield. The kingdom would soon be stirred up to a froth. It wasn’t just those in the immediate vicinity who were in danger, it was every creature and elf in the kingdom and beyond.
“Close up on the mist,” Prince Amras ordered the unicorns. “Don’t let any more of them come through.”
With understandable caution the ranks moved forward, being very careful to stay far enough back so that not even a wisp of mist could touch them. Not a single elf wanted to take the risk of being drawn in and perhaps transported to where these creatures had come from.
Isil and Enelya, both unhurt, marched forward with the rest and just as they did, the colour of the mist abruptly changed. One moment the mist was static, the next it was a coiling mass of purple again. Then in the blink of an eye it became pale grey and as still as a windless night. They both sensed the almost audible snaps as it changed.
After seven paces forward the elves found themselves staring at an innocuous sea of cloudy white that sat unmoving in front of them.
* * * * *
The Tathar was trembling with exhaustion by the time he managed to seal the T’Quel. He staggered in the direction of his armchair and collapsed into it.
His dreams, as he slept the sleep of the recovering, were the dreams of a fevered nightmare of long ago battles and of two men, both so different but possessing similar traits. One was a King, the Dux Caput of his day. The other was a Prince, a Toisiche in Scottish Gaelic; in the Tathar’s mind, he had been the pre-eminent Prince of all Princes of his day and perhaps of all time. Although the two men had been born many years apart and had never known each other, the Tathar had known both and had counted both as his friends.
Both men had been of royal blood and both had been inspired war leaders. Both had been men of their own, often bloody times, but one had possessed that something that spoke of greatness. That one had been both compassionate and wise. The other had only been wise.
The Tathar dreamt of bloody battles and death. As he tossed and turned in his chair he could smell the sickly aroma of spilled blood and the sharp tang of fear.
He wished he could once more travel through worlds and time to meet them.
* * * * *
For the first time in days Wielder Crucius was smiling. He was learning fast how to destabilise the magic of the T’Quel. He could not control it yet but he was certainly well on his way.
He wondered how Toish Ruac was getting on. He, Wielder Crucius, really needed a full set of tarna, a full trio, for his very own.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 19
‘I am in blood.
Stepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o’er.’
(Macbeth – The Scottish Play)
(William Shakespeare (1564-1616))
EVIL PLANS
Remember, not even a hint of what I am planning must pass from your lips to his ears.
“Sire,” the Morityaro leader bowed low.
The hooded figure acknowledged the bow.
“Did you manage to locate the second message?”
“No sire. We waited at Nosta and the elf came as expected. It was a warrior, a female, which was not expected.”
“Are you sure?”
“She walked like a female,” he answered defensively
“Who was she?”
“We do not know.”
“You let her get away?” The hooded king’s voice was incredulous.
“My agents say they could not help it. A wind took her and pulled her over the cliff, into the T’Quel. They did not get a chance to capture and question her. She was alive after her fall. My agents looked over and saw her. Magic, the very air was rife with it.”
“Did she find the second message?”
“We must presume that she did. She went into the tower ruins and was there for some time. We moved closer, intending to catch her when she came ou
t. It was as we were attempting to rush her that the wind came.”
“Ergott,” said the angry king, turning away and the Morityaro leader flinched. “Let me think for a moment.”
The Morityaro leader waited until the king’s gaze was upon him once more. He waited for an appreciable length of time and grew increasingly anxious.
“Orders sire?” he asked at last, unable to stop himself.
“Find her.”
The Morityaro leader coughed. “I’m afraid that now that may be impossible. My agents, knowing of your orders and your desire to get the messages, did try to follow her but they were on foot and she was mounted. There were two of them by then although we do not know where the second rider came from. Perhaps Prince Amras Telemienar, who presently commands the T’Quel guard, lent her a protector. We are trying to find out.”
“Unicorns? Then she must be a Wood Elf and so must her companion.”
“Yes sire. My agents could not keep up. I heard from my agents guarding the bridge some days ago then nothing. It is as if they have disappeared off the face of the world.”
“Perhaps this female warrior and her companion killed them,” suggested the hooded king with deceptive calmness, but his voice was chilling.
“Sire,” protested the affronted Morityaro leader, “that is impossible! They are six of my best and most trusted agents. I have sent word to some others some cians away to go and find them and report back to me. I should receive word before the day turns to night. Shall I report to you with my findings?”
“Yes, immediately,” said the hooded king. “I must have the second message. I must have …”
“Have what sire?’ asked the ever inquisitive Ruac, trying to look merely innocently curious although he had a good idea what His Royal Majesty had been about to say.
“Never mind. You are dismissed.”
With concealed anger the Morityaro leader bowed and left the room.