The Warrior (The Hidden Realm)

by A. Giannetti

  “I only heard a splash,” said Dacien, who was still looking nervously out over the ominous looking lake.

  Suddenly suspicious, Ascilius turned his dark eyes on Elerian, who returned his gaze with an innocent look in his clear gray eyes.

  “I saw nothing either,” said Elerian, who sounded as if he were having problems with his voice. Several peculiar tremors shook his tall frame. It could have been fright, or it could have been suppressed laughter.

  “Why did you run then?” asked Ascilius with a frown on his face.

  “I was following you,” said Elerian. “Do you think we have outrun whatever it was?” he asked, again with that peculiar tremor in his voice.

  “It would seem that we have,” replied Ascilius dourly. From past experience with his capricious companion, he was almost certain now that Elerian had caused the splash that had startled him. Feeling ridiculous for having run away, he glared at Elerian who stared blandly back at him with a guileless look in his gray eyes.

  Ascilius finally shook his head and looked away. As usual, he had no proof that Elerian had played another prank on him.

  “No sense in taking chances though,” he thought to himself. “Lead the way for a while,” he ordered Elerian in a gruff voice.

  “Certainly, if that is what you want,” said Elerian.

  He lit a mage light and walked away with the tiny light hovering a foot above his head. Unlike Ascilius, he kept to the left, away from the lake.

  “There is still no sign of the creature, but why take unnecessary risks,” thought Elerian to himself. As he walked with his back to his two companions, he laughed softly now and then as the scene of Ascilius and Dacien running up the road replayed itself before his mind’s eye.

  Walking close behind Elerian, with Ascilius on his right side, Dacien was certain that he had missed something in the exchange between his two companions, but what it was he had no idea.

  “What a strange pair,” he thought to himself. “One moment they risk their lives for each other, and the next, they seem at odds, as if they did not care for each other at all.”

  Dacien stole a sidelong look at Ascilius, who was still scowling. He appeared to be watching Elerian and the lake with equal care, as if uncertain where the next threat would come from.

  After a solid hour of walking, the road suddenly bore to the left, disappearing into another large tunnel. The lake and its stony shore continued on into the darkness.

  “Do we follow the shore or the road?” asked Elerian, turning toward Ascilius.

  “The road,” said Ascilius shortly. Passing Elerian, he eagerly entered the tunnel, glad to leave the underground lake and the undine behind.

  Another tunnel,” said Elerian unenthusiastically to Dacien. “Will we ever see the open sky again, I wonder.”

  “We are not far from the exit now,” said Ascilius impatiently over his left shoulder. “Soon, we will come out high on the eastern side of the mountain. If our luck holds, and we are not discovered, we will make our way around to the north face of the mountain. If the north road is still open, we will reach Ennodius in four days.”

  Elerian and Dacien unenthusiastically followed Ascilius into the tunnel. Soon, they began passing the mouths of smaller tunnels on both sides of the passageway which Elerian thought might be mine shafts.

  “We are going down, not up,” he observed after a half hour of walking.

  Ascilius made no answer. Instead, he suddenly stopped, turning to face the tunnel wall on his right. Muttering to himself, he felt over the wall with his hands. Shifting his position slightly, he cast an opening spell. An unseen lock clicked and a door, not much taller than a Dwarf, appeared before him, outlined with a thin thread of bright silver. Pushing it open, Ascilius stepped into the small tunnel behind it. The passageway was just high enough for Elerian and Dacien to stand in it with an inch or two to spare. The walls and the arched ceiling were rough, showing the marks of chisels and picks, but the floor was smooth and level. After Dacien and Elerian followed him through the doorway, Ascilius swung the thick stone door closed and locked it with a closing spell.

  They continued on without speaking, for Ascilius was still grumpy. Elerian amused himself by devising different ways in which he might startle Ascilius if they passed near water again once they were out in the open. Dacien, feeling closed in by the tunnel and half blind from the dim light cast by his companions’ mage lights, was in no mood to talk.

  The tunnel carried them steadily upward, ending suddenly before a blank wall. Ascilius spoke a word in his own language, and the silver outline of another small door appeared in the wall. When Ascilius extinguished his mage light, Elerian did the same. The three of them stood in complete darkness as Ascilius cautiously pushed the door open with his left hand, uncertain as to what he would find on the far side of it.

  When the door swung open, dim sunlight of a greenish tint flooded the tunnel, causing the three companions to blink and shade their eyes. When they stepped cautiously out into the space beyond the open door, Elerian was delighted to find that they were surrounded by enormous trees of mighty girth that rose like gray pillars from the forest floor. A thick drift of faded brown leaves covered the sloping ground beneath the trees. Thirty feet overhead, the first of their far-reaching, massive branches met and interlocked, their leaves forming a thick green roof that glowed a pale green from the invisible noonday sun. The piping of countless birds filled the air.

  Elerian looked behind him and saw a sheer cliff, perhaps a hundred feet high. Its summit was crowned with trees, but its steep face was bare, the rough gray rock seamed with crevices and covered by patches of gray-green lichens. The door to the secret tunnel swung shut on its own, blending seamlessly into the cliff face. The snick of the lock was sharp and clear in the still air.

  “Can you open it again if we need to take cover?” asked Dacien nervously of Ascilius.

  “I could,” said Ascilius in an unconcerned voice, “but there is no safety for us in that direction.”

  “I would rather fight a hundred Goblins than return to that hole in the ground,” thought Elerian to himself as he breathed deeply of the fresh, woodsy air around him.

  “Where to now?” he asked Ascilius.

  “Your path and mine lies to the left, up and around the side of the mountain,” said Ascilius. “There is a cliff on the northern face that gives an unobstructed view of the back gate to Calenus and the north road leading to Ennodius. If the road is still in the hands of my people, we will be on our way to Ennodius at first light tomorrow morning.”

  Turning to Dacien, Ascilius said, “If you do not wish to go with us, Dacien, follow this slope down to lower ground and then travel east until you reach the banks of the Arvina. If you can find a way across the river, you can make your way home across the plains.”

  “You carried me out of the dungeons of the Dark King,” said Dacien. “It would be a poor return for your generosity if I abandoned you now. I will go with you to Ennodius first and then return home.”

  “As you wish,” replied Ascilius. “Let us be on our way then while the light lasts.”

  All of Ascilius’s ill humor appeared to have vanished, crowded out of his mind by thoughts of the home that he had not seen in years. He led the way up the side of Albior, following a faint path that cleverly avoided the steepest parts of the slope before them. They made good time, despite having to climb, for there was no undergrowth, and the trunks of the trees were far apart. There was no sight or sound of any Goblins. For the moment, at least, they seemed to have eluded their pursuers.

  Elerian lagged behind his two companions, for the great trees were a delight to his eyes. Left to his own devices, he would have wandered this ancient forest for days. Tiring of walking on the ground and tilting his head back to look up at the crown of some mighty, verdant giant, he finally climbed the rough trunk of a great oak and walked above his two companions along the thick branches overhead, as much at home in the heights as any squirrel.r />
  Dacien shook his head in astonishment as he watched Elerian walk lightly along a twisting branch, as casually as if he was strolling down some country path rather than across a branch fifty feet above the forest floor.

  “Does he have no fear?” he asked Ascilius in wonder.

  “He is mad about trees like all the Elves,” said Ascilius dismissively.

  “Are you certain, he is an Eirian?” asked Dacien doubtfully. “He seems only a man to my eyes, one who plainly wears on his face and figure his age and the marks of the hardships he has endured.”

  “When we were prisoners in the mines, Elerian took on the appearance of a Hesperian for many years to conceal his true identity from the Goblins,” said Ascilius quietly. “It was only during our escape from the mines that he revealed his true form to me. There is no doubt in my mind that he is a gray Elf, but since then, no doubt acting out of long established habit, he has concealed his features again. This was a habit common with his people in the old days. The Eirians were masters of illusion, and they often wore a different guise when traveling outside their own land, appearing as ordinary men to conceal their true identity.”

  “I have heard that too,” said Dacien, but in his own mind, he still found it hard to believe that Elerian was anything more than a very brave man who was also a talented mage.

  “If he is indeed proficient with illusions, he might have appeared to Ascilius as an Elf for his own reasons.” thought Dacien to himself, but he said nothing more to Ascilius, preferring to keep his own counsel for now.

  As the three companions climbed higher, the forest of hardwoods gave way to tall pine and fir trees. Elerian returned to the ground, for the evergreens presented a more difficult path for his feet than his beloved hardwoods, their branches being smaller and not so extensive.

  The path Ascilius followed now wound between widely spaced, scaly trunks ten and twelve feet thick, which rose straight into the air like gray towers. Fifty feet in the air, the needle-clad branches of the trees met to form a thick green canopy that blocked any sight of the sky as effectively as the broad leaves of the hardwoods on the lower slopes. A thick layer of brown needles, broken only by the twisting roots of the great trees, covered the ground. The sharp, resinous scent of evergreen needles filled the air, and the three companions breathed deeply of the sharp, clean scent as they walked in single file, their footsteps cushioned and muffled by the needles underfoot. Except for the birds and squirrels in the upper branches of the trees, they saw nothing moving, and they relaxed their guard somewhat. Eventually, Dacien, tiring of the silence, fell back to walk by Elerian’s side.

  “What will you do after we reach Ennodius,” he asked curiously.

  “We have business there,” said Ascilius, who had stopped and was looking back over his left shoulder. He had heard Dacien’s question and saw an opportunity to annoy Elerian. Dacien and Elerian also stopped, side by side.

  “After we have concluded that business, we will embark on a quest which may take us through the whole of the Middle Realm,” said Ascilius gravely. His dark eyes sparkled with delight when he saw Elerian’s face flush with embarrassment.

  “He is taking his revenge for that prank in the cavern,” thought Elerian ruefully to himself as Ascilius resumed walking.

  Elerian and Dacien followed the Dwarf, Dacien favoring Elerian with a curious glance. Clearly, he was wondering about the quest Ascilius had mentioned.

  “What can I tell him without making this worse,” Elerian asked himself, regretting once more that he had ever confided in Ascilius.

  Choosing his words carefully, for he knew that Ascilius was eagerly taking in every word, Elerian said, “I have an orb, Dacien, which occasionally shows me distant scenes. I saw a face in it which aroused my curiosity and made the mistake of mentioning it to Ascilius.”

  “What sort of face would make you want to set out on a quest to find the owner?” asked Dacien in confusion.

  “The face of a woman, you fool,” said Ascilius sharply to Dacien without turning his head. “Elerian has been smitten from afar and is being drawn to this maiden he saw in his orb like a moth to a flame.” There was no hiding the pleasure in Ascilius’s voice.

  “Pay no attention to him,” said Elerian uncomfortably to Dacien. “He seeks to present my curiosity as some sort of obsession for his own amusement.”

  “But there is nothing wrong with a quest for love,” said Dacien with a puzzled note in his voice. “If you come to my country after you have done in Ennodius, I would be pleased to help you and Ascilius seek out this woman that you saw. You are somewhat worn from the years and the hardships you have endured,” he said casting a critical eye on Elerian, “but a hero will often find favor with the maidens even if he is not blessed with a fair face.”

  Elerian winced at Dacien’s words, for Ascilius was making odd, strangled, snorting noises. It was hard to be certain, for the Dwarf did not turn around, but Elerian was certain that he was choking with laughter.

  Dacien began to look alarmed, as if he feared for Ascilius’s well being, but Elerian said gravely, “Just ignore him, Dacien. He is often prone to these fits. He is quite an odd fellow, even for a Dwarf.”

  Ascilius ignored Elerian’s gibes. He was fairly skipping up the path now, still making his odd noises.

  “He will make me suffer for weeks now that he has an audience in Dacien,” thought Elerian resignedly to himself. He refused to say anymore after that for fear of giving Ascilius even more verbal darts to use against him. Fortunately, the uncomfortable conversation, from Elerian’s point of view, was suddenly interrupted by a burst of bright sunlight that caused all three companions to narrow their eyes.

  They had reached the precipice Ascilius had spoken of. In front of them, the side of the mountain fell away sharply for several hundred feet, leaving all the land to the north visible to anyone standing on the edge of the cliff. Sheltering behind the trees that grew near the edge of the precipice, the three companions cast their gaze on the lands to the north, exposing only their faces.

  Far below them, they could see a wide valley running north to south. Down its center flowed the swift green waters of the Arvina, already a wide, unruly river. To their left, the back gate of Calenus was hidden from their view by a forested flank of the mountain, but the north road was clearly visible. Running northeast, it crossed the Arvina over a wide stone bridge before disappearing through a wide cleft in the wall of mountains which rose up in the north.

  In the failing light of the evening sun, the three companions saw that the road was already crowded with lines of wagons and troops. With his far sighted eyes, Elerian was able to distinguish companies of hulking mutare, battalions of black clad Mordi, and the isolated figures of massive Trolls carrying great hammers in their knotted hands, all traveling alongside the wagons. Regiments of Urucs mounted on sleek atriors rode the grass-clad margins of the road. Faintly over the distance came the brazen clamor of Goblin horns.

  “Something is sadly amiss to the north,” said Ascilius in a worried voice. “When I was captured, the Dwarves of Ennodius controlled this road all the way up to the pass on the north side of Albior. When the dragon came, they must have been driven back. I fear those forces are marching north to lay siege to Ennodius. With the road in Goblin hands, we will have to take the long way around, first traveling east to the plains and then turning north. It will take at least five days just to reach the plains,” he said gloomily.

  Although he was sorry for the disappointment and worry that Ascilius was feeling, Dacien was not unhappy that they would now travel east instead of north through the mountains.

  “There is a company of my people stationed between the Tanicus and the Arvina,” said Dacien to Ascilius. “If we can reach them, they will supply us with food, weapons, and even horses if you wish. They will carry you home a great deal faster and more comfortably than your legs will.”

  “I wish nothing to do with horses,” said Ascilius sourly, “but the food a
nd weapons will be welcome. I sorely miss my ax that I dropped in that accursed lake.”

  They spent the rest of the evening working their way back around and down the mountain, finally reaching valley below, which was covered with an ancient forest of oak, ash, and chestnut. Ascilius and Dacien thought it a desolate, threatening place, but Elerian walked happily among the huge trees.

  The shadows were already thick when they came to the stony banks of a small, swift mountain river that issued from the foot of the mountain on their right. It rushed nosily across their path, flowing down to meet the Arvina in the center of the valley.

  “This river looks like it may be the outflow from the lake where we met the undine,” said Elerian to Ascilius.

  Ascilius looked uneasily at the swift, dark water. “It is the same,” he said. “This is the Nyade. There is a ford farther downstream.”

  “Should we wait until morning to attempt it?” asked Elerian. “Who knows what we may find in the forest now that it is growing dark.”

  “We are still too close to the city for my liking,” said Ascilius uneasily. “Let us cross the river at least before we set up camp.”

  Keeping under the trees, he led the way downstream, with Elerian and Dacien following close behind. After about a half mile, they reached a place where the swift river spread out and shallowed, running nosily over a stony bed. Elerian suddenly reached out both hands, pulling Ascilius and Dacien behind the bole of a wide oak tree.

  “Look across the river,” said Elerian softly to his two companions.

  The sun had almost entirely dropped behind the peaks of the mountains to the west, and a thick twilight had spread across the river and its banks. There was a crescent moon low in the sky, but it shed little light. Dacien saw nothing but blackness and the silvery glint of the river. Ascilius saw a world drained of color, but his eyes had no trouble discerning a small, narrow meadow that ran along the south shore of the river across from them. Grazing on the grass was a long limbed horse that gleamed like pale silver in the starlight. As if suddenly aware of them, it raised its fine head and pranced lightly about the meadow so that its mane and tail drifted like clouds of spun silver. To Ascilius and Dacien, it suddenly seemed the most desirable creature in the world and each felt an overwhelming urge to race across the river and claim the wondrous creature on the far bank.