Elf Lords: 01 - Pearls of the Elf Lords

by Richard Saunders

  “The Pearls of the Elf Lords.” Landis said excitedly.

  “The pearls of what?” Jandelie asked, her eyes catching sight of the large pearl in the bracelet. The thief reached for it only to have her hand pulled away by Landis.

  “Do not touch it.” He warned, not really knowing the reason why.

  Landis cautiously reached out and slid the bracelet off of the carpal bones of the wrist of what he reasoned had once been the arm of Bytorron. He looked at the bracelet, more thoroughly as he examined the pearl that easily measured three inches across, knowing that this was the Fire-Pearl that Old One had told him about.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Jaylen asked his son.

  “It has to be.” Landis replied.

  “Will someone tell me what is going on?” Jandelie inquired.

  Landis finally had to reveal what he knew to Jandelie and Natis.

  The mage was busy exploring the rubble on his own as Landis told them what he knew of the Pearls of the Elf Lords. Natis was surprised at the knowledge Landis exhibited of the subject, but denied knowing that he had ever heard anything of the stones. He did reluctantly admit that he had been instructed to find and return Aaron’s broken staff if at all possible.

  Jaylen began searching through the rubble, “While all this talk of the Pearls is interesting, our priority is to find Alex Sergius’ sword.” The elf said as he pulled a large stick out of a pile of debris and began using it to shift through the wreckage. “If Bytorron’s body is here than the sword must be nearby. It was sticking out of his shoulder the last time I saw it.”

  Landis looked at his father, then at the wooden staff he was using. “Father, you have found the green pearl.”

  Jaylen stopped what he was doing and looked at the staff in his hand. It was greenish in color and at the head of the staff was a large teardrop shaped green pearl, as brilliant as the red one in the bracelet that Landis had found. “By the nameless god.” He said as he handed the staff carefully over to his son.

  Natis was becoming more excited by the minute. “Do you realize the magnitude of these discoveries?”

  “Is that a sword?” Jandelie was pointing into the corner where none of them had looked before. Sticking out from beneath a pile of rocks, dirt and other remnants of the walls and flooring that had fallen long ago was the point of a blade. Jaylen began to reach for it then stopped. “Just in case the legend is correct, perhaps you should pick it up.” He told his son.

  Landis crawled over to the blade and began to ease it out from below the pile. Only three inches of the blade was exposed, and as he gingerly pulled it he felt it catch on something beneath the pile. Landis tugged harder, feeling the blade begin to move. He wrapped a cloth around the blade in order to gain a stronger grip without risking cutting his hands and gave it one more pull. Fragments dropped to the floor as he pulled, then part of a skeleton arose out of the pile. Landis leapt back, releasing his hold on the sword as he grabbed for his own blade in alarm, giving out a cry of warning as he faced off with the undead creature that had jumped him. As he prepared to fight, both the body and sword dropped to his feet.

  Jaylen laughed as he watched his son’s response. “Easy there, Landis. I know that Bytorron was dangerous, but you cannot kill him twice.”

  Still feeling his heart racing in his chest Landis returned his sword. Looking down he could see that the sword he was trying to retrieve was caught in the bones atop the ribcage of the long-dead elf wizard. The skull and neck were still attached to the spin and ribs, but no arms or legs were connected. When Landis had jerked upon the sword the hilt, which had caught in the skeletal remains, had pulled the body up out of the pile at Landis.

  “My brave warrior.” Jandelie chided.

  Landis freed the sword from Bytorron’s remains and held it in his hands. Jaylen took one look at the long blade and the pearl handled hilt and declared that this was indeed the sword that he had witnessed Alex Sergius use in battle. Landis ran his finger across the blade and was surprised to find that it still held a sharp edge after all this time.

  “We have found the sword, now Petra will be Queen.” Jaylen said with satisfaction.

  “Well I am not ready to leave just yet.” Natis informed them. “We have found everything else; now help me find Alex’s staff.”

  After placing the Sword, staff and bracelet safely away from the rest of the rubble they helped Natis search through the remaining piles of rubble. The mage found part of a staff but cursed loudly when he realized that it was the wrong end. But the discovery encouraged him to continue digging and soon he began laughing as he backed out proclaiming, “I have found it!”

  Natis emerged covered in dust but holding the upper half of what Jaylen remembered to be Aaron’s staff. At its top—just like with the green staff—was another pearl: This one a large irregular cross-shaped white pearl.

  “Now we can leave.” The mage proclaimed.

  Jaylen looked about the room. “Strange, we have found Bytorron’s body, but I see no sign of Aaron’s. I suppose that the magic completely consumed him when he released it.”

  They climbed back out into the dungeon and prepared for the ascent back up through the air shaft. Landis was fashioning a rope loop around his belt on his right side. Once done he slipped the sword into the loop, testing its weight to make sure that the rope held. “That should hold the sword until we get out of here.”

  Jaylen took the green staff and slid it between the sheaths of the swords on his back. They placed the bracelet into Landis’ knapsack and asked Natis to do the same with the broken staff.

  “Why should you be the one to carry it?” The mage’s face revealed bitterness at being requested to hand over the top half of the staff.

  “Everything we find here is to go to Birhirm to be examined before anyone takes possession of them.” Jaylen reminded Natis, using the excuse that he and Landis had contrived before entering the city.

  Natis looked at the two of them, “Do you not trust me? Surely you do not believe that I mean to keep this for myself. I am nowhere near experienced enough to be able to handle such magic without serious risk.”

  He looked down at the broken staff, his eyes resting on the white pearl embedded at the top of the staff as the others watched him in silence.

  “Very well, you are probably correct,” He said as he held the staff out for Landis to take. “It is probably too great a risk for me to hold on to without becoming desirous of owning it and wielding any power it contains as my own.”

  Landis slipped the staff, pearl first, into the knapsack with the end sticking out several inches, then he secured the bag over his back where his bow normally would have been—he had left it above with the others—and declared, “We have found what we came for. Now let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 10

  Petra sat on the balcony looking out over the streets of Birhirm. Unlike the castle in Alexon, the palace at Birhirm was in the center of town and only steps away from the street. There was no wall protecting the courtyard, only an iron-rail fence marking the boundary. Petra noted that the fence was short enough that anyone could climb it with little effort. She leaned back in her comfortable chair, sipping on a cup of hot tea. Tonight was the first clear night for several days. She could see the stars twinkling in the sky and wondered what must be going on under those same stars in the fields north of Alexon where her grandfather’s knights and the other militia were pushing back the Snow-Elves who refused to admit that they could not win this war.

  King Jobez had provided the princess with detailed information of the war from reports he had received. She was grateful that the King of Birhirm was treating her like an adult instead of a child. She truly thought that Eric’s father was a wonderful man. Thinking of Eric reminded Petra of the efforts being made by her betrothed, and the other nine who were no doubt in Sedau by now seeking out the sword of her ancestor. That sword was supposed to be her key to the throne of Alexon upon her grandfather’s death. Pet
ra did not desire to be Queen of Alexon. She would prefer to be a simple princess enjoying life in the castle and hopefully providing a son who would assume the throne when her father eventually died. Alas, that was not the way things were to be.

  She sighed, thinking of the sudden and tragic loss of her father. Petra had never known her mother, but Landis—her cousin—had known her and would often sit with the princess when she was younger and share stories of her mother, and his own mother as well. Those stories gave Petra an understanding of who her mother was and enabled her to find a bond with the woman who had died giving birth to her.

  The air was chilly, but Petra did not mind. She enjoyed being outside. She took another sip and wondered how Eric and his party were doing. She thought about her future marriage to the Prince of Birhirm. Petra liked Eric, but she was not in love with him. She was not looking forward to the arranged marriage that had been decided upon by Eric’s father and her grandfather. It was an arrangement meant to help secure her claim to the throne by rewarding Alexon with the sovereignty of relations with Birhirm. Once she and Eric were married, their children would be royalty in both kingdoms. Petra could not believe that the storybook wedding she had dreamed about since the age of seven would become little more than a political arrangement. She supposed that she could be happy with Eric—she might even grow to love him—she just wished that life did not have to be planned out for her like a script in a play.

  “Do you need anything, Princess?” The serving girl asked as she stepped out onto the balcony. Petra looked to the young lady. Monica was her name. She was a pretty girl, around fourteen or fifteen years of age, Petra assumed. Monica had long dark hair and blue eyes that never seemed to look the Princess in the face. She was developing into a lovely woman. Petra felt sudden pangs of jealousy at how Monica would probably have her choice of young men to choose from when she chose to marry. Sure they would be commoners—perhaps even servants—but Monica would still be free to make her own choice, unlike Petra.

  “No thank you, I am fine, Monica.”

  “How about a blanket to keep you warm?” Monica asked, as she stood beside Petra’s chair.

  “No thank you,” Petra declined, ‘But you can take this.” Petra offered her empty cup and saucer to the young lady.

  Monica reached for the cup. The two girls each anticipated the other’s hand movements incorrectly; resulting in them bumping together and the cup toppling off the saucer into Petra’s lap.

  “I am sorry!” Monica exclaimed, quickly leaning forward, over the princess in order to grab the cup that had spilled its remaining few drops onto the Princess’ gown. She grunted unexpectedly and her eyes went wide. Then the serving girl fell into Petra’s lap. Petra was startled to see a crossbow bolt protruding from Monica’s back. Blood was spreading along the servant’s gown. Petra screamed in horror as she realized that Monica was dead. She pushed the body off of her and dove to the ground, still screaming as a second crossbow bolt struck the chair where she had been sitting.

  * * * * *

  Later Petra sat in another room. She held her arms tightly across her chest as she shivered, not from the cold but from the realization of what had happened. Someone had tried to assassinate her. If not for the mishap that resulted in Monica reaching down to grab the fallen cup and inadvertently placing her body between Petra and the oncoming arrow, the Princess of Alexon would be dead. Looking down at the blood on the sleeves of her clothing—Monica’s blood. Petra was happy to be alive, but she felt such a great sadness over the death of the innocent girl who had died in her place. She was very fortunate that it takes longer to reload a crossbow than a bow, as it had given her time to jump to safety before the assassin could reload and fire the second shot that would surely have killed her had she remained in the chair.

  Jobez entered the room with two guards, joining Petra and the four armed men standing in the room who were making sure than no one entered to harm the princess.

  “We have not been able to locate the assassin, but we will.” Jobez promised.

  “How are you doing?” He asked the visibly shaken young woman.

  “I am alright,” she lied, not wanting to admit how frightened she really was. “What about Monica’s family?”

  Jobez looked away from Petra. “They have been informed and are taking the news as best as can be expected. She will receive a hero’s funeral for saving your life. And I will make sure than her family is cared for.”

  Petra thanked the King, but his words did little to comfort her. Watching Monica die in her lap—and in her place—was just too much to bear for the young woman who was still grieving the death of her father. She rose from her chair, “I need to get out of these clothes and wash up.”

  Jobez understood, motioning for the guards to go with her. “I have already sent for Cynthia to prepare a hot bath for you. And do not worry, Petra, you will be safe here in the palace, and we will find out who it was that tried to murder you.”

  Chapter 11

  “This does not look good.” Landis said to his father as the two of them peered over the rim of the well as they looked out at the ruins of Sedau. While they had been down below ground, the orcs and snow-elves had moved closer to the well and were now between the well and the way they had entered the city. Worse, the sky was clear and the light of the moon made the way all too visible. It was going to be very difficult to sneak out of the city under their present circumstances.

  They had returned to the stairwell designed water trap in the hall adjoining the hidden entrance below the well several hours earlier. Upon scouting the exit they had discovered that it was still daylight outside, so rather than risk being caught climbing out at that time they waited until nightfall and used the time to catch up on some much needed rest. Now Landis and Jaylen were scouting the way for their exit. Neither believed their chances of getting away from Sedau were very good under the current conditions. Jaylen’s well trained eyes counted somewhere between twenty to thirty snow-elves and at least fifty orcs in the immediate vicinity, and he guessed that there were many more roaming elsewhere about the dead city. They could not afford to wait another day in hiding in hopes that the way would be safer the following night, especially when there was no evidence to predict such a change.

  “What do you think we should do?” Landis asked his father.

  The Elf looked all about them. “The safest way out would be to attempt to go west in hopes of escaping into the hills.”

  Landis looked westward. “We would have to go on foot without the horses.” He commented, knowing that their horses and supplies were still—hopefully—hidden in the clearing in the forest north of the city. “And I doubt if we can make it out of the city without being seen even if we go that way.”

  “You would stand a better chance if there were a distraction in the other direction.” Jaylen proposed.

  Landis considered his father’s suggestion. “I suppose that a distraction from somewhere on the other side of the city would give us an opportunity to flee. What are you thinking of?”

  “I would have no problem sneaking over to one of those buildings in the distance. Once there I can keep the snow-elves and orcs busy while the rest of you make your escape.”

  “I will go with you.” Landis offered.

  Jaylen shook his head. “No, Landis. You are needed to take the sword to Petra. I can do this on my own.”

  Landis did not like the idea of his father going it alone against such odds. Neither did Trevor Kahn, who opposed the elf’s plans when they had climbed back down to inform the others of Jaylen’s intentions.

  “I will not run and let you fight alone.” Trevor insisted. The way that Konik stood at his friend’s side showed that he was in complete agreement with the former knight.

  “I am not asking you to run away from a fight,” Jaylen explained, “rather I am asking you to go with the others to make sure that they reach Birhirm safely. They will need your swords more than I will. I will do better on my own w
ithout having a pair of humans to slow me down.”

  Trevor still did not like the elf’s plan but was forced to agree that it made sense.

  “I will go up first,” Jaylen said; handing the green staff that was still hanging from his back to Jandelie. “Give me ten minutes and then climb up. Wait until the time is right and then run to the west until you reach the woods beyond the fallen walls. From there head towards the hills until you come to the river. Follow the river north into the hills. There will be a place that you can ford the river farther north, do so and go up into the hills and continue north until you reach a pass that will take you safely over to where the river bends west.”

  “I remember the area,” Weslocke intervened, “if we follow it up, there is a place where the river runs below a natural bridge of rock where we can cross over and make our way back north to the road again.”

  Jaylen nodded, “It will give you a good place to hold off any pursuit as well. A few of you can hold that narrow bridge while the others continue to Birhirm. If you do not stop them completely at least you will hold them long enough for the rest to escape.”

  “That is where we will make our stand.” Trevor informed Konik.

  “Then it is settled,” Jaylen said. “Landis, may I borrow your bow?”

  Landis handed both his bow and quiver of arrows to his father. “Good luck.” He said to his father as the elf dropped into the water and crawled through the opening into the well.

  “Your father is a true hero.” Konik addressed the half-elf. “It was an honor traveling with him.”

  The words were not lost on Landis. He understood the plainsman’s intent all too well; his father was embarking on what Jaylen—and the rest of them—knew to be a suicide mission.

  * * * * *

  Landis knelt on the ground behind the broken wall of the well. Beside him crouched Jandelie and Weslocke. Everyone else still waited inside the well, standing on one of the many stony steps as they hugged the wall, waiting for word to climb up and out to begin their race to escape the city. Landis looked out in the direction that his father had pointed to when planning their escape. He never saw Jaylen, but that did not surprise him. He heard a commotion coming from the only tent, and saw snow-elves rushing about sounding an alarm. He watched as one of the elves tumbled to the ground. Landis could not see the arrow from this distance, but he knew that it was a fatal shot from his father that had downed the elf. Another fell and then another. Then Landis could make out his father; Jaylen was standing atop a one-story building in the far distance. Landis could see that he was taking aim at the snow-elves with the bow, and from the looks of things he had not missed a target yet.