by M. L. Forman
“Probably,” Whalen agreed. “Still, you can use magic on your companions—hide them as you’ve hidden me.”
“To travel there, yes. But once I go to face Jabez, I’m not sure what protection I can offer them.”
“When you face Jabez, he will be too worried about you to even think of the escaped hostages.”
“He will, but we don’t know who or what else might be there helping him.”
“Yes, I understand. I’m sorry to say it, but the men and hostages will have to fend for themselves. Once you have freed them, they will have to find their way home without you. You have to find the Axe of Sundering, and I have no idea how long that might take.”
“And if you are captured while I’m searching?”
“I am not so easy to capture as that. I’ll be able to buy you some time at the very least.”
“Remember my vision. . . the Orion stones. If he has them and can use one of them . . .”
“I’ll be careful,” Whalen promised. “And it’s no good worrying about all the ‘what ifs’ and ‘who mights’ and such. We could plan for every possible thing that Jabez might do or have or throw against us, but if we did, we’d never get anything done. Instead of spending our time trying to guess all the answers, I suggest we concentrate on something more important.”
“And what might that be?”
“The midday meal, of course.”
Food was brought into the meeting area, and several small tables were set up for the council guests. The meal was another good one, though a surprisingly quiet affair. Groups around the tables spoke in low voices to one another, and very few people moved between tables. Alex and Whalen found themselves alone at a table set to one side. Alex wanted to be friendly and get to know Darthon’s people, but it seemed that no one else felt that way.
“May I join you?” Karill asked quietly.
“Of course,” Whalen replied.
Alex looked up from his plate as the elf approached.
“Most of the men here fear us,” Karill said mildly as he pushed back his hood so they could see his face. “And you have seen for yourselves how the dwarves feel about my people.”
“You can hardly blame them,” Alex said. “Your people are separated from the world of men for the most part. The troubles between elves and dwarves are ancient, and I do not see them changing soon.”
“We are separate,” Karill agreed. “One might say that we are cut off from the world, though I wish it was not so.”
“I know little of your people,” Whalen said. “Mostly stories and rumors. Tell me, Karill, do you think your people will aid the men and dwarves of Westland? Will they come to the land and do battle with this evil?”
“You did not tell him?” Karill asked, looking at Alex.
“It was not my place. I made a wizard’s vow to not share what Aliia told me,” Alex said. “Not even with my friend.”
“I see,” Karill said, nodding. “To answer your question, Master Vankin, some elves will fight, I am sure of that. The elders may not like it, but some will come. Though not enough, I fear, to change the tide of battle.”
“The young will come,” Alex said. “Those who don’t understand why the elders want to remain cut off from the world.”
“Yes, mostly the young, but others as well,” Karill said. “Times change, and many of my people feel that we should be more connected than we are.”
None of them spoke for a time, each one lost in his own thoughts. Alex’s thoughts were filled with questions about the sea elves. He wanted to know why they tried so hard to hide themselves. It seemed like madness to cut themselves off from the world simply because of their past. They were part of the world whether they liked it or not, and hiding themselves away would do no one any good at all.
“Darthon will return soon with his decision,” Karill said, breaking the silence. “He will go north. To war.”
“You know Darthon better than we do,” Whalen said.
“I have known him since he was a boy, as I knew his father and his father’s father,” Karill answered. “He is a good man. He trusts when others might doubt. He will go north because his allies there call him, but his heart will go west with Master Taylor.”
“West, to Joshua and the other hostages,” Alex said.
“He cares for all his people, as a true king must,” Karill said. “But if he were not king and responsible for all, he would burn all of Jarro to save Joshua from the evil clutches of Jabez.”
“Then Joshua must be saved,” Alex replied.
Their conversation was cut short as Darthon returned to the council area. He looked tired, and Alex thought he might be pushing himself too hard.
“My friends,” Darthon said when the crowd grew quiet. “It seems that war is upon us, and we have no time to waste. The armies of the southern kingdom will march north as soon as possible. Ships and supplies will be made ready and move as soon as the winds of Jarro allow them to sail north.”
There was a general cheer for Darthon’s decision, but it was not a joyful cheer. Everyone on the council knew that this war would be a long and hard one, and even with Darthon joining the other kingdoms of Westland against Conmar, they were unsure of what the future might hold.
“Master Taylor,” Darthon continued, “you will travel west, to the seat of our enemy’s power. All our hopes rest on you, and I would not send you there without others to help you on the road and once you get there.”
“Lord Darthon, a small group of men would be welcome,” Alex replied. “I do not know the paths of this land, and once the hostages are rescued, they will need assistance to make their escape.”
“A small company then, no more than twenty men,” Darthon said. “Is there anything else I can do to aid you in your quest?”
Alex thought for a moment. “The passes over the mountains will be difficult for men, maybe impossible for horses. Is there some other way we can travel? Can we not sail around the southern end of Westland and then go north to Conmar?”
Darthon turned slightly to look at Karill, and there seemed to be some unspoken communication between them.
Darthon looked back at Alex, but it was Karill that spoke.
“The seas to the south are dangerous at all times, and in winter most dangerous of all,” said Karill. “To sail south and then north would be a slower path than you think. I cannot imagine you making that journey in less than two months.”
“And how long before your armies join the battle in the north?” Whalen asked Darthon.
“Once we set out, we can reach the middle kingdom in two, maybe three weeks,” Darthon answered.
“Too long,” Alex said. “It seems that every path leading to Conmar will take too long.”
“There is another way,” a soft voice said from behind Alex.
“Aliia, no,” Karill said sternly. “That path is not open. To take that road courts folly and invites death.”
“He asked for a faster way, not a safer way,” Aliia replied. “The road through the black lands is the only other path. I will guide Master Taylor to his goal.”
“You will not,” Karill said fiercely. “I forbid you to even think about such madness.”
“My fate is not in your hands, Karill,” Aliia answered defiantly. “This is my destiny, and I will follow it, whatever the cost.”
“What is this path?” Alex asked. “What are the black lands?”
“A terrible place—a place no one goes to, not anymore,” Darthon answered. “Those who have gone there never return.”
“It was once the home of my people,” Aliia said.
“I understand,” Alex said, remembering what Aliia had told him in the garden about the history of her people. “I would like some time to consider this. How long before the armies move north?”
“Four days,” Timold replied.
“And how long would it take us to travel through the black lands and reach Conmar?”
“Seven or eight days, if you can get through
the black lands at all,” Karill said. “After that, ten days to two weeks to the castle of Conmar.”
“Very good. I will try to find some other way, but in the end, if there is no other option, I will travel through the black lands to Conmar,” Alex said.
“Find another way,” Karill said quietly, leaning close to Alex. “By all we hold dear, find another way.”
The council was concluded, and the lords of the southern kingdom departed to deal with the business of war. The dwarves and men from the north had their own preparations to make. Grimgold approached Darthon as the groups were leaving and spoke quietly with him. Whalen watched everything but said nothing, and Alex didn’t know what to say. He had to find a way to move himself and twenty men west as fast as possible, and he didn’t know how he was going to do it without daring the deadly black lands.
“Master Taylor, may I ask something of you?” Karill whispered in Alex’s ear.
“You wish me to refuse Aliia,” Alex said. “If I take this road across the black lands, you wish me to forbid her to come with me.”
“I do, but that is not what I want to ask you now,” Karill said.
“What then? How may I be of service to you?” Alex asked.
“Tonight the elders of my people will hold a council of their own,” Karill said. “As you may guess, our people are scattered across the seas of this world, but we have ways—magical ways—to speak to each other in times of need. Tonight we will talk about all that has happened, about what might happen to Westland and Jarro. Will you come and speak with them? After our council, you can ask about darloch est messer . You might be able to learn something that will help you.”
“Aliia told you about my interest?” Alex asked.
“She told us all that passed between you,” Karill said. “I cannot tell you more than she did about this ancient legend, but the council can. Will you come?”
“Yes,” Alex said. “I will come.”
“It’s total madness, you know, this path through the black lands,” Whalen said later that afternoon when they were alone in their rooms. “No one can say what evil is there, but it’s clear that both men and elves are terrified of the place.”
“Maybe they fear the unknown,” Alex said.
“Yes, and maybe there’s something worse than you can imagine waiting there,” Whalen shot back. “When you rescued Skeld and the other adventurers from Karmus in Nezza, didn’t you transform into a bird while they were inside your magic bag? Couldn’t you do something similar now, and fly over the mountains?”
“Maybe,” Alex said. “But that is a lot of magic. When I transformed with Skeld and the others in my magic bag, there were only a few of them, and no horses. And it was only for a short flight. Hiding twenty men and twenty horses while I transform into a bird and while still protecting you from Jabez and while hiding my own magic would be difficult. There are other problems as well.”
“Like what?”
“What if we run into a storm over the mountains and I can’t fly? How long will it take to cross the mountains as a bird? Do I change back and forth every day? The men and horses can’t stay in my magic bag for the whole journey. You know how dangerous transformations can be for a wizard, how much more dangerous might it be for men and horses?”
Whalen sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat and agreement. “But the black lands sound too dangerous to even consider.”
“How can you say that when we know almost nothing about them?” Alex asked. “They do have something in their favor, though it is a small point. It might, however, be the small point we need to win this fight.”
“What is that?”
“They are the last place Jabez will be looking,” Alex said, smiling.
Whalen frowned, thinking. “You’re probably right. I’m sure he knows about the black lands, but Jabez cares nothing for his men. So, if he is unwilling to send his own army there because he knows they will be destroyed, then we should take that as a warning.”
“Does he know, or is that just what he believes?” Alex asked.
“I heard what Karill said, Alex. We need to find another way—though I don’t have any idea what that might be.”
It was late and the palace halls were mostly empty. Alex had told Whalen what he was doing and where he was going, and Whalen had simply nodded his understanding and said nothing. Now, Alex followed Karill out of the palace and into the streets of Valora. They went downhill, toward the harbor, and Alex understood why. The magic of the sea elves was tied to the open sea, and they would need all the power they could summon to communicate with their elders who were scattered across the oceans of Jarro.
“This way,” Karill said, leading Alex away from the docks.
They walked along the shoreline for a mile. When they came to the city wall, Karill produced a silver key which he slipped between two stones. There was a soft click, and a section of the ground and lower wall moved aside, revealing a stairway leading down, though not directly through the wall. Alex found himself in a passageway, expertly carved but poorly lit.
“My people built this when we first landed here,” Karill said. “It was so long ago that only the king and a few of his lords know that it is here, and they would be hard pressed to find it without a guide.”
The passage was straight and had a gentle downward slope. They walked in silence for another mile and then the passage started sloping up. Alex wondered where they could be, because by his reckoning they were moving eastward. After climbing a long set of stairs, they came out of a stone arch and into an open, bowl-like area. The top of the chamber was open to the sky, and Alex could see the stars high above him. He could hear the gentle waves slapping against rocks, but looking around, he could see nothing but stone.
“We are surrounded by water here,” Karill said. “From the deck of a ship, this place looks like a small stony island. It is a place for ships to steer well clear of.”
Alex nodded his understanding and took a closer look at his surroundings. The hollowed-out space was like a small amphitheater with stone benches carved along the walls. The wooden chairs in front of him were already filled with sea elves, their hoods removed and their faces revealed. Set in front of the elves were nine silver stands, each one supporting what looked like a very large and finely cut crystal.
Alex followed Karill to the front of the group of sea elves and took the seat that Karill offered him.
“We are ready,” Karill said to Alex. “You don’t need to do anything. The elders will appear shortly.”
“How?” Alex asked.
“Ancient magic that we have protected for a long time,” Karill said. “Each of the crystals has a twin, which is held by one of the elders. When they will it, their likenesses will appear, and they will be able to see and hear all that happens here.”
Alex waited and watched. For a time, it seemed that nothing was happening, but he soon noticed that each of the crystals in front of him began to glow with a dim light. The magic of the crystals was very different than Alex imagined it would be. The lords of the sea elves did not appear above the crystals as he thought they would, nor were they the semitransparent figures he’d imagined. Instead, each of the crystals, along with the silver stands, vanished from sight, and in their places sat very real and solid-looking elf lords.
As soon as all of the lords had appeared, the elf in the center spoke. His voice was musical and strangely sad, and while the words that he spoke were not exactly the same as the elvin language Alex knew, he was still able to follow what was being said. Alex thought that maybe he should say something because the elves appeared to think he could not understand them.
“Good, he’s agreed to come,” the sea lord from the middle crystal commented. “We were not sure that he would.”
“That he would dare,” another lord to Alex’s left added.
A spark of anger flared inside Alex. He knew that the elves had doubts and that they had lived in fear for many years, but the part of him that was
a dragon did not take kindly to the comment about his not daring to come here.
“He appears to be all that he claims,” Karill said.
“Things are seldom what they appear to be,” one of the lords to Alex’s right answered.
“And sometimes things are more than they appear to be,” Alex said in perfect elvin. “I have dared to do many things in my short life, and I hope to do more. What, may I ask, have you dared to do in your long lifetimes?”
The elf lords fell silent. Some seemed surprised that Alex spoke their language, while others frowned in anger that he had challenged them so directly.
“Forgive our doubts,” the elf lord at the center said after a pause. “We have not been introduced. I am Navar, the eldest remaining of my people in Jarro.” He gestured to the elf on Alex’s right. “This is Sarach, my advisor. I can see you are angry about our doubts, and perhaps at our fear as well. We have lived in fear for a long time. Too long, I think.”
“We must protect ourselves,” Sarach said.
“To hide in fear is not the best path to protection,” another of the elf lords commented.
“Enough,” Navar interrupted. “We have debated for a long time, and we have not agreed on a path. That is not the reason for this meeting. Master Taylor, we know what you have shown to Aliia. She may never have seen a true wizard, but what she tells us reassures us that you are what you say you are. We asked you here to offer you what we can. We will share with you the legends of the distant past, if you think they can help you in your quest.”
“Thank you, my lords. I am grateful for your help,” Alex answered. “To be honest, I wish to hear more about the black lands before we speak of darloch est messer . Tell me, if you can, what is there? What is it that you and all others fear in that place?”
“The black lands,” Navar replied slowly. “A path I would advise against, and yet . . .” The elf fell silent as if lost in memory or deep thought. After a moment he shook himself, glanced quickly at the other elf lords, and then settled his gaze on Alex. “Aliia told you what she knows, and I will tell you more. In ancient times, our people sought for more power than was wise. They wished for things that were not meant to be. In their pride they used magic that they did not truly understand, and that was our ruin. They gave more life to things than they should have, and worse, they gave solid form to shadows.”