The Quest (The Hidden Realm Book 5)

by A. Giannetti

  At that same moment, far to the east in Nefandus, Torquatus received the summons he had anticipated from Merula’s talisman. With a cruel smile of anticipation, he stretched out his right hand and opened a portal, using the amulet for a locus. His gray eyes bright and distracted, as if he suffered from a fever, Merula appeared at once on the far side of the magical doorway, standing in the same wild meadow as before.

  “Traitor!” he shouted, “I will cross the Arvina with an army that will bring you to your knees!”

  “Calm yourself! Your woman is safe,” replied Torquatus. His face and voice appeared and sounded like those of a concerned friend, but in his heart, the Goblin King took a wicked delight in Merula’s distress.

  “What of the fingers you cut from her hand?” demanded Merula, his voice shaking from the fury that consumed him.

  “You need not concern yourself with them,” replied Torquatus soothingly. “They came from another prisoner and were intended only to heighten Orianus’s anxiety concerning his daughter.”

  “You should have warned me about what you intended at our first meeting,” complained Merula, his voice sulky now instead of angry. Neither his face nor voice betrayed the least concern for the woman who had lost her fingers to further Torquatus’s plan.

  “I kept my intentions secret from you to make your reaction to the discovery of my gift to Orianus more genuine,” replied Torquatus in reasonable, measured tones. “Having observed your distress at the sight of the severed fingers my messenger left before the gate to the city, no one will suspect you of being involved in the disappearance of Orianus’s daughter.” Some of the anger drained away from Merula’s face as Torquatus fell silent, but his eyes remained suspicious.

  “Bring Anthea to me in some private place,” he demanded. “If she is undamaged as you claim, I will possess her now as we agreed.” As he fell silent, Merula’s eyes became fever bright again as if a fire burned in his veins.

  “A bit of patience may gain you a greater reward than the few moments of pleasure you will gain from despoiling this woman now,” replied Torquatus in a friendly, persuasive voice. “In the short time that she has enjoyed my hospitality Orianus’s daughter has undergone a transformation. The threat of torture and the news that Elerian was slain when he attempted to leave Iulius to search for her have quite crushed her spirit. Under the right circumstances I believe you might now gain both her gratitude and her affection, but she must entertain no suspicions that you were involved in her abduction.

  “You are certain that the outlander is dead?” inquired Merula eagerly, his blue eyes bright with the intensity of his hate for Elerian.

  “Stone cold dead,” replied Torquatus, his face and voice betraying not a flicker of emotion as he told the lie. “With her paramour deceased, I think that were I to arrange for you to rescue Orianus’s daughter, she would look on you favorably, perhaps favorably enough to wed you in time. Were we then to arrange for her brother to disappear, you might still be king of Tarsius.” A benign expression on his lean face and treachery in his dark heart, Torquatus fell silent, giving Merula time to consider his words.

  “I have offered the bait,” Torquatus thought to himself, highly pleased with his own cleverness. “Let us see now if this fool will gulp it down.”

  “What would you require of me if I gained Anthea’s hand?” Merula asked eventually, his voice full of skepticism. “I suspect my gratitude alone would not suffice,” he added sarcastically.

  “I would ask only for the tribute and men that you promised me before,” replied Torquatus in a reasonable voice. “Those two things and your continued goodwill are all that I desire in return for my aid.” Although skeptical of this pledge of friendship, Merula carefully kept his face impassive as weighed the choices before him.

  “Two alternatives, both with their own risks,” he thought to himself. “If I give in to the fire in my blood and possess Anthea now, I will be forever beholden to this Goblin, forced to beg his permission each time that I wish to visit her. If I agree with his plan, I run the risk of losing Anthea, for even with the outlander gone, she may not favor me.” Desire warred with reason as Merula mulled his choices, but in the end his conceit inclined him to the riskier but more logical second choice. “I will choose patience over gratification,” he decided. “Now that her infatuation with this Elerian has ended, Anthea cannot help but recognize that I am the most worthy of her hand,” he assured himself. “If Dacien can be got rid of, I will realize both my ambitions with this second choice. I will possess Anthea and rule in Tarsius.”

  “I will wait then as you suggest,” said Merula at last.

  “In that case I will immediately send an Ancharian across the Arvina who will pretend to reveal the location of Orianus’s daughter for gold,” replied Torquatus. “A quick sortie across the river and she will be yours.”

  “Send the Ancharian then,” assented Merula. “After I return to Niveaus, I will wait for a message concerning Anthea to arrive from Silanus. In two days’ time, at most, I will cross the Arvina with a portion of the force that I have already assembled in Niveaus.”

  “One last warning before you go,” added Torquatus carelessly, as if the matter had little import. “The potion the woman drank has temporarily muddled her mind. She may forget things or act strangely for a time, but with your help, she will fully recover her senses.”

  “I will bear that in mind,” replied Merula curtly. Without a backward look he walked away, missing entirely the gloating look that appeared on the Goblin King’s face.

  “Hurry home my friend,” thought Torquatus vindictively to himself as he closed his portal. “I have a surprise prepared for you. One which will seal your fate and that of your nation as you will discover when it is too late.”

  Several hours later, after the expected message concerning Anthea’s location arrived from Silanus, Merula rode from Niveaus, Orianus at his side and a picked company of several hundred knights, lightly armed and wearing leather armor following behind. Riding like the wind, accompanied by the thunder of hundreds of beating hooves, the Tarsi sped down the east road that led from Niveaus. Two days later, on the same morning that Dacien arrived at the pass into Iulius, they rode into the eastern half of Silanus before sunrise. Acting on the information the king had received from the false Ancharian sent by Torquatus, they crossed the river on barges, landing on a deserted part of the west bank that was about ten miles south of the western portion of Silanus that was in Goblin hands. Barely a mile to the west, as the Ancharian’s message had promised, they found a small camp guarded by a force of Mordi and mutare numbering barely a hundred. After they were quickly overrun by the stronger Tarsi force, Merula was the first to enter and search the encampment, which consisted only of a few black tents. Inside of one of them, he discovered a woman bound hand and foot. In face and form she resembled Anthea so exactly that Merula never suspected she was not what she seemed.

  “You have come for me, Merula!” Lepida shouted gladly when he cut her restraints with his dagger. Overcome with delight at this change in the woman he supposed to be Anthea, Merula did not see the sly look in Lepida’s eyes as she embraced him and laid her head on his chest.

  “Have your feelings for me changed?” Merula could not help asking.

  The false Anthea at once pretended to wipe away tears. “I see you in a different light now, Merula, for Elerian is dead, slain by the Goblins. When my grief and the distress caused by my abduction fade who knows what may happen between us.” Pleased with this response, Merula stepped aside as Orianus entered the tent and embraced his supposed daughter. Surrounded by Orianus’s riders, Lepida was quickly brought across the Arvina. On the ride east to Niveaus, she sought out the company of Merula who rode a little behind her and Orianus.

  “It is good to be home again Merula. I owe you more than I can ever repay,” she said softly when she rode by his side, her voice full of false gratitude.

  “You owe me nothing Anthea,” replied Merula affec
ting a courteous air now that she appeared to favor him. “I am happy to serve you in any way that I can, hoping only for your affection in return.”

  “That will come in time,” promised Lepida. “In the meantime, I require something else from you,” she said softly. “My memory seems strangely affected by my abduction. Many names and faces have slipped away from me, therefore, I may require your help from time to time in identifying those around me.”

  “That I will gladly do until all becomes familiar to you again,” replied Merula graciously. As he and Lepida continued their conversation, Orianus, who rode ahead of them, observed them with a glad heart when he cast a look at them over his right shoulder.

  “If they grow in affection then at least one good thing will come from Elerian’s untimely passing,” thought Orianus to himself, for Merula had informed him straightaway that Elerian was dead. The king’s pleasure in rescuing his daughter was somewhat spoiled upon returning to Niveaus when he learned that Dacien’s stallion and his spare mounts had been discovered on the northern plains unaccompanied by any rider.

  “I fear that I have gained a daughter but may have lost a son,” he mused to himself. He had tracked Dacien’s progress in his bowl as far as the pass into Iulius, but at that point Dacien had disappeared from view. When no messages came out of the west across the Arvina, Orianus gained some hope that Dacien was still alive. “If the Goblins had captured or killed him, Torquatus would have wasted no time in informing me of that fact,” he reasoned to himself. “He may have released his horses on purpose, preferring to proceed on foot to Iulius.” Mindful of the traitor who was still at large, Orianus told only Merula and Anthea that Dacien might be in Iulius. When rumors began to circulate, claiming that some accident had befallen his son, Orianus made no effort to dispel them.

  “Dacien will be safer if the Goblins believe he is dead, for once he learns that Elerian is slain and Anthea rescued, he will certainly attempt to return to Tarsius,” reasoned the king to himself. Merula expressed the same opinion, as did Lepida, but in their own minds, each had the same thought.

  “If he does not return, then only Orianus remains between me and the throne,” both of them mused to themselves. Merula and Lepida each contacted Torquatus in secret at different times to inform him that Dacien might be in Iulius, affording the Dark King a great deal of amusement as they unknowingly conspired against each other.

  In the days that followed, Lepida played her part so well that neither Orianus nor anyone else had any reason to believe that she was not Anthea. She was constantly in the company of Merula and the king as they went about the business of the kingdom, taking an especial interest in all things military. Taking the greatest care to arouse no suspicions, she learned the strengths and weaknesses of all the fortresses in the kingdom, their locations, the number of men who guarded them, and many other vital secrets in preparation for the day when she would open a path for her Dark King’s army to invade the kingdom. In her mind’s eye, she already pictured herself as the queen of the Tarsians, fantasizing how she would rule them according to her cruel desires when she ascended to Orianus’s throne.

  THE COUNCIL

  The carriage carrying Elerian and his two companions arrived in Iulius just before dawn on the day after Merula’s rescue of Lepida. Elerian had not dared the dream paths again, for he realized now that he had come uncomfortably close to entering an eternal sleep from which only death could release him, and that Ascilius had likely saved his life by using his prank to return him to awareness before the thread joining him to his waking life faded away. The anger and resentment that lingered in his heart toward his erstwhile friend prevented him from making any expression of gratitude, however.

  “I can forgive him everything except his callousness towards Anthea’s torment,” thought Elerian grimly to himself. “The cold logic of his race has become more than I can bear.”

  Ascilius left his companions as soon as the carriage arrived in the stables of Iulius, determined to speak to Dardanus as soon as possible. After conducting Elerian and Dacien to the same quarters that Elerian and Ascilius had occupied before they left Iulius, Falco also excused himself to conduct business of his own. An awkward silence prevailed between Elerian and Dacien as they took seats before the small fire that burned in the hearth, its yellow flames crackling as they consumed the thick logs of ash laid upon the grate. As Elerian laid the treasure bags he carried with him at his feet, Dacien, trying to judge the mood of his companion, cast a sidelong look at Elerian who sat to his left. The impatience and anger that had burned in him two days ago appeared to have faded, for the careworn face of the illusion he wore was now despondent as if a deep melancholy had overtaken him.

  “Whence comes this depression that is so plainly written on his features?” wondered Dacien worriedly to himself. “Has he by his arts learned ill news of Anthea’s fate? I had best attempt to repair our friendship so that we can speak of it.”

  “I am sorry that I struck you, Elerian,” he said hesitantly, unsure of how Elerian would respond to his apology. With an effort, Elerian roused himself and turned to Dacien, studying the haggard face of the Tarsian for a moment. Now that he knew the grim future that awaited him, he no longer felt any resentment toward Dacien for siding with Ascilius.

  “I should be grateful, instead, that he acted as he did, for left to my own devices, I would have missed the chance to at least hold Anthea one last time,” thought Elerian to himself.

  “You acted as you thought best, Dacien” he replied at last. “I hope you in turn will forgive the harsh words I spoke in the passageway.”

  “I have already forgotten them,” replied Dacien, relieved that he and Elerian had settled their differences. “If, by your magical arts, you have gained some knowledge of Anthea’s fate then share it with me. I will not flinch from it.” For a long moment Elerian regarded Dacien with his clear gray eyes, surprised by the acuity with which the Tarsian had divined his thoughts.

  “How should I answer him?” he wondered to himself. “It does not seem fair to rob Dacien of hope, but he will not be deceived by any dissembling on my part. Better to tell him the truth.”

  “Whatever I tell you must be kept from Ascilius,” warned Elerian before proceeding, in grim tones, to describe to Dacien what he had seen in his orb. “Only death awaits us in Anthea’s cell,” concluded Elerian bleakly. “You should return to Tarsius and leave this last adventure to me, Dacien. There is no reason for you to perish with Anthea and me, leaving your father childless.”

  “I cannot abandon my sister even to save my own life,” replied Dacien firmly. “Despite the future you have seen, my loyalty to her requires me to at least attempt her rescue no matter how hopeless it appears.”

  “Then there is no freedom of choice for either of us in this matter,” replied Elerian gravely. A deep silence fell in the room, broken finally by Ascilius opening the door to the chamber.

  “The news of Anthea’s capture has preceded us,” said the Dwarf to Dacien and Elerian as soon as he entered the room. “I have learned from Dardanus that twenty freed Dwarf slaves laden with gold arrived in the city after we departed for the eastern pass over the mountains. Along with their gold, they brought word of Anthea's capture. There is no doubt in my mind now that Torquatus, using Anthea as bait, is trying to draw Elerian out from the protection of Iulius. Every step of our journey to her prison will be thick with traps designed to ensnare him and any who accompany him.”

  “Even if what you say is true, she is a bait that I cannot refuse,” replied Elerian, his voice remote, as if he spoke to a stranger. “Will your uncle grant us permission to use the western passageway?” Ascilius remained silent for a moment, studying Elerian with his dark eyes.

  “He is no longer angry but the wall between us remains and will not easily be torn down,” the Dwarf thought sadly to himself.

  “Dardanus has strongly counseled against taking that path,” Ascilius finally replied. “He has, however, given me p
ermission to open the Black Gate if we are determined to dare the passageway beyond it. In return, he asks only that we speak with him first before we leave Iulius.”

  “We have no time for idle talk,” objected Elerian impatiently. Despite the hopeless future that awaited him, he was anxious to begin his journey if only to distract himself from what was to come.

  “This meeting will cost us only a little time, but we may gain much valuable information from it,” advised Ascilius calmly. “Our packs and gear are being assembled by Falco even as we speak. The moment the council is over, we will be on our way.”

  “Nothing Dardanus has to say will make any difference in the outcome of our quest,” replied Elerian grimly. He offered no explanation to Ascilius for his pessimism, however, as he threw the treasure bags Dardanus had given him over his right shoulder. After a puzzled glance at Elerian, Ascilius led his two companions to the king’s chamber. There they found Dardanus seated in front of the fireplace with his brother, Eonis, and his two nephews, Cordus and Cyricus. To the left of Dardanus’s chair were three empty seats and a small table of white marble on which rested crystal wine glasses and a decanter of red wine. The yellow flames of the crackling fire burning in the hearth played across the craggy features of Dardanus and Eonis, casting shadows that gave them a gaunt look under their deep-set eyes and strong cheekbones.