The Warrior (The Hidden Realm)

by A. Giannetti

  Like a swift shadow, Anthea suddenly slipped by Elerian, stepping between him and the shape changers. Elerian reached for her with his right hand, intending to pull her back, but found that he could not close his hand on her right shoulder. It was as if some invisible barrier protected her. Opening his third eye, he saw that a silver mantle of light covered Anthea from head to foot, emanating from the chain around her slim neck. Her left hand was raised, and although he could not see it, he was certain that it held the silver beech leaf attached to the chain. Anthea had somehow accessed the power of the relic and was now beyond his reach. He could only watch helplessly as she defied the two shape changers, holding himself ready to help her in any way he could.

  “Be gone creatures of the dark,” she said in a clear voice that possessed a power Elerian had not heard before.

  The lentulus who had spoken before laughed contemptuously. “You have no power over us woman,” it said in its evil voice. “We will kill your companion with great torment while you watch and then take you prisoner as we have been commanded.”

  Spread a little apart in case one of their victims should try to run, he and his companion, sinewy muscles rippling beneath their sleek, sable hides, began to stalk toward Elerian and Anthea.

  With his magical eye, Elerian suddenly saw a beam of white light spring from Anthea, enveloping both shape changers in an incandescent blaze that seared their eyes and tore at the very fabric of their beings. Howling in unbearable pain, the surprised pair sprang high into the air, unfurling their wide, leathery wings. Beating their pinions furiously, they rose into the sky, pursued by the shaft of light from Anthea’s necklace. Realizing their danger, they separated from each other. The white ray that was slowly destroying them faded away as they split apart, but the shape changers did not turn around. They disappeared into the western sky, like shadows fleeing the morning sun, their shrieks of pain fading away into the distance.

  As if her bones had turned to water, Anthea began to collapse. Elerian felt cold fingers of fear tighten around his heart as he leaped forward with his arms outstretched. No barrier stopped him now, and he caught her under the shoulders with both hands. Speedily, expecting the worst, he lowered her limp form to the ground and laid her down on her back. As he kneeled by her side, he saw that the necklace around her throat had gone dark. Her features looked pale and faded in the starlight, as if her shade had already departed.

  “The blow she dealt the shape changers took more from her than she could safely give,” thought Elerian sadly to himself.

  No breath stirred past her slightly parted lips when he bent over her. Opening his third eye, he saw a tenuous golden shade on the ground that was slowly fading away.

  “What am I to do?” he thought despairingly. “She is dying before my eyes.”

  He could have healed a physical wound, but this was a mortal blow to the spirit, something he had never dealt with before. Not knowing what else to do, Elerian grasped both her hands in his own. With his third eye, he saw their shades touch. As he had often done with trees and other living things, he advanced a part of his shade into hers, which was now so pale that he could barely see it with his third eye. Then, he did something dangerous, something that could have caused his own death. Through the connection he had created, Elerian sent his already depleted life force into Anthea’s shade. As he recklessly gave of his strength, Elerian felt a lassitude spread through his body

  “Perhaps we will both perish,” he thought to himself as his sight began to dim, but he made no attempt to break the connection that was draining away his life force. Then, just when he felt that he had nothing more to give, Elerian saw Anthea’s shade brighten a little. The drain on his power slowed and then stopped altogether. He closed his third eye and saw Anthea’s eyes slowly open, lit once more by the lamp of life.

  “I saw another world,” she said wonderingly in a weak voice. “You and I were golden shades. I was fading until; somehow, you brought me back.”

  “You saw the shades which animate our bodies,” said Elerian softly. “The blow you struck against the creatures of the dark almost cost you your life. The only way I could think of to bring you back was by sharing my own your life force with you,” he said holding her slim, strong hands in his own. “I warned you that argentum can be dangerous,” Elerian could not help adding.

  A low growl suddenly shattered the quiet of the night, reminding Elerian and Anthea that there were still other dangers about other than the lentuluses. Elerian looked up to see a ring of canigrae approaching them from all sides. The Goblin hounds had hidden for a time, frightened by the defeat of their powerful masters, but then, regaining some of their courage, some of the pack had crept from their dark hiding places, around to the front of the building. Seeing that Elerian and Anthea appeared weak and helpless, their hesitancy vanished. Crimson eyes glowing in the dark, they crept toward Elerian and Anthea, thin black lips pulled back from their long white fangs in anticipation of the kill they would soon make.

  “It does not seem fair somehow to have to face these creatures, too, after all we have been through tonight,” said Elerian wearily to Anthea. “I doubt I have enough strength left to deal with even one of them.”

  Struggling to his feet, he picked up the damaged sword that Anthea had dropped.

  Anthea slowly sat up. “Perhaps the necklace will work again,” she suggested.

  “No!” said Elerian urgently, fear for her life surging through him. “I have no strength left to bring you back again.”

  A wild neigh from behind the canigrae suddenly drew both their eyes. Elerian gave a joyful shout when Enias suddenly sprang from between the trees growing at the edge of the clearing, leaping lightly over the ring of startled canigrae. Two swift bounds and he was before Elerian. Casting aside his sword, Elerian used the last of his strength to lift Anthea onto Enias’s back, before leaping up behind her, settling himself with his left arm around her waist and his right hand buried in Enias’s long mane. The pack was surging forward, snarling and growling, each eager to be the first to set teeth in their prey. Rearing up Enias lashed out with his front hooves, splitting two of their skulls and momentarily driving back the rest. Gathering all his strength, Enias made a great standing leap, the canigrae snapping uselessly at his legs and underbelly as he soared over them. Another leap carried Enias clear of the pack. Running like the wind, he sped across the clearing, toward the path that led through the forest back to the plains, the Goblin hounds howling in frustration as they were left behind again.

  Leaning past Elerian’s right shoulder, Anthea shouted, “Catch us if you can!” in a mocking voice to the canigrae as Enias entered the forest and sped down the track.

  The infuriated canigrae surged after Enias, but they might as well have tried to catch the night wind. With an open track before him, the stallion soon left them far behind. With the wind streaming past their faces, Elerian and Anthea were content to ride in silence until Enias broke free of the canyon at last and entered the open plain. There, he slowed to a smooth, ground-eating trot, heading for the encampment of the Tarsi without being told.

  Elerian was startled when Anthea settled herself comfortably against his chest. The feel of her strong, slim back sent a tide of strong emotions sweeping through him, and he suddenly wished the ride through the darkness would last forever.

  “What a wonderful night,” said Anthea happily.

  “We almost died three times in the space of a few hours,” said Elerian incredulously. “I would hardly call that wonderful.”

  “A little danger is the spice of life,” said Anthea dismissively. “Think of the marvelous things we have seen and done tonight. Who knows what else might happen before we reach the war camp,” she said with a shiver of anticipation.

  “Nothing, I hope,” said Elerian fervently. “I have had excitement enough to last me for quite some time.”

  The ground-shaking roar of a lion suddenly interrupted their conversation. Elerian looked warily to the
south, from whence the sound had come. Enias suddenly pricked up his ears, and a moment later, Elerian heard shouting in the distance as well as the baying of hounds. Soon Anthea heard the noises as well. Before long, a torrent of mage lights appeared, bobbing across the darkened plain, and the thunder of many horse’s hooves came through the night air.

  A great company of Tarsi appeared in the distance. When they drew closer, Anthea shouted a greeting in her clear voice, and the melodious notes of silver hunting horns answered her. Soon, they met a great band of riders and hounds, with Orianus leading them on a white stallion. Mounted next to him on a small black mare was Ascilius. Of all the sights he had seen that day, Elerian thought that one the most amazing and unexpected.

  Behind Orianus, Elerian saw Dacien and Merula. Anthea moved slightly away from Elerian as her father approached, and he hastily took his arm away from her waist.

  “Anthea, are you well?” asked Orianus, his face betraying fear and concern for his daughter. “No one knew where you were. When your mare returned to camp alone and frightened out of her wits, we were mad with worry about you.”

  The look he threw Elerian then was not a friendly one, and Elerian suspected the king thought he might be responsible for his daughter leaving the camp without telling anyone of her plans. In Merula’s face, Elerian saw surprise warring with jealous anger at the sight of him and Anthea sharing a mount.

  “It will go ill with you stranger if you have harmed our princess in any way,” he said threateningly to Elerian.”

  Anthea spoke up at once, in a cold voice filled with disdain. Although Elerian could not see her eyes, he knew they would be almost black with anger in the mage lights.

  “I need no one to look after me Merula, least of all you. I thought I made that plain before,” she said scathingly.

  Merula looked as if he had been struck with an open hand. He turned deathly pale, for many of the riders behind him as well as the king had heard the princess’s words. An uneasy silence fell over the whole group.

  “He will never forgive this insult,” thought Elerian to himself. “I wonder why he seemed so surprised to see us. From the expression on his face, I would swear that he did not expect to lay eyes on either myself or Anthea tonight.”

  Ignoring Merula, Anthea turned to her father, her voice still cold and angry. “We encountered a pack of canigrae on the plains. The mare ran away, and we escaped on Enias. That is all there is to tell.”

  She fixed her furious stare on her father, as if daring him to contradict her.

  “Let us return to camp then,” said Orianus at last.

  He was still looked troubled, but even he, evidently, was not willing to brave his daughter’s anger in full view of the great company of men behind him.

  Elerian hid a smile behind Anthea’s dark hair. Having already been on the receiving end of her sharp tongue, he could understand why no one wished to cross her.

  With a quick pressure of her knees, Anthea urged Enias forward. Elerian could not help but feel a small twinge of jealousy as the stallion readily obeyed her. Orianus’s and Merula’s mounts moved respectfully aside to give Enias room to pass. Ascilius, his face carefully impassive, was also carried to one side by his mare.

  Oblivious to the stares of the men, Anthea leaned back against Elerian as she boldly rode Enias through the middle of the company. Elerian longed mightily to call his ring and vanish from sight. He looked straight ahead, but out of the corners of his eyes, he could see that many angry looks were directed his way. Had he turned around, Elerian would have seen that Merula’s face had turned ugly, transformed by a rage that burned like fire through his veins.

  Alone, Enias led the way back to the encampment, for no one in the company, including Ascilius, dared ride by Anthea’s side. Elerian was enthralled by his closeness to Anthea, but at the same time, he was acutely aware of the hostility of the Tarsi riding behind him, and he could not forget the anger on the King’s face.

  “If I keep my head after tonight, then I shall never lose it,” thought Elerian to himself. “Ascilius gave me good advice when he said not to meddle in the affairs of kings and their progeny.” He made no move to distance himself from Anthea, however. Like a moth to a flame, he felt irresistibly drawn to her.

  Anthea neither turned her head nor spoke the whole way back to the encampment. To Elerian’s acute embarrassment, she rode Enias straight through the war camp, toward her tent. Out of concern for Anthea, many people were still awake, standing outside their tents in small groups. Elerian was forced to endure the gauntlet of their curious eyes and to listen to the whispered comments that his sharp ears picked up. Some of the talk was hurtful.

  “He is as plain and battered as an old boot,” he heard one pretty maid say to another.

  Some of it was dangerous.

  “Why would she choose to ride with him unless, perhaps, she was ensorcelled?” asked another maid suspiciously of her friends.

  If Anthea heard any of the talk, she gave no sign, but when she dismounted at last in front of the royal tent, her eyes were still dark with anger when she looked up at Elerian.

  “Let nothing trouble your thoughts this night,” she said reassuringly. “All will be well when I have spoken to my father alone.”

  She turned and entered the tent, leaving Elerian in a confused state of mind.

  “Is she willing to defend me because she cares about me,” he wondered to himself, “or is she doing it out of anger at her father and Merula? It is probably the latter,” decided Elerian sadly as he turned Enias toward his own tent. “She has made it quite plain that she thinks I am a fool, fit only to amuse her. Still, I should count my blessings,” thought Elerian to himself and a smile grew on his lips. “At least she does not seem angry with me. I feel sorry for Orianus and anyone else who crosses her path tonight.”

  Still smiling, Elerian rode Enias back to his own tent, his mind awhirl with all that had happened. Tired as he was, he lifted Enias’s trim feet before retiring into the tent, checking his hooves for stones or bruises. As Elerian bent over his hooves, the stallion nibbled his ears.

  “Have done, you rascal,” said Elerian with a soft laugh, “or I will never finish.

  Affectionately he pushed away the stallion’s sleek head. Taking a curry comb from the bag that hung outside the tent entrance, he brushed Enias, the familiar task soothing his troubled mind. When he was done, he examined the stallion with a critical eye. His coat was dark in the starlight, but he gleamed like a newly minted coin.

  “You will do,” Elerian said to Enias. “Go join your brothers on the grass and mind the dangers of the night.”

  Enias snorted at the thought that anything could threaten him and then melted silently into the encampment. Elerian sighed as all his confused thoughts came rushing back now that he was no longer occupied with the task of caring for Enias. He opened the tent flap and was not surprised to see Ascilius already inside the tent. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor under the yellow glow of the mage light, deep in thought. His dark eyes gleamed under craggy brows as he looked up at Elerian.

  “Are you all right?” he asked gruffly.

  “I do not know,” said Elerian honestly. “My head is spinning from all that has happened today.”

  Ascilius waited patiently for him to go on, the warm yellow glow of the mage light illuminating some aspects of his strong features and casting others into shadow. He looked very much like a prince in exile tonight, with his thick hair loose over his shoulders and his flowing beard combed out over his broad chest.

  “I hardly know where to begin,” said Elerian.

  Crossing over to a small wooden table standing against one wall of the tent, he filled two large, glazed mugs with clear water from an ewer and almost without thought, changed the clear liquid to a strong red wine. He handed one mug to Ascilius and then sat down beside the Dwarf with the other mug in his right hand. Taking a long swallow from his own cup, he gathered his thoughts as the strong drink coursed
through his body.

  “It all began when Anthea asked me to go riding with her early this morning,” he said choosing his words carefully.

  “And, like a fool, you accepted, even though she was alone,” said Ascilius sarcastically.

  Stung by the rebuke, Elerian said in an irritated voice, “Do you wish to hear my story or not?”

  “Go on,” said Ascilius grudgingly, even though he was clearly very angry.

  “Near a great canyon,” continued Elerian, “we were suddenly surrounded by a pack of canigrae in broad daylight. Anthea’s mare bolted in fear, and we were forced to flee on Enias. He carried us into the canyon, and we outdistanced the pack. Knowing that they would pursue us, I sent Enias away. Anthea and I then continued on up the canyon over the high road of the forest in the form of great cats. It was my intention to draw the canigrae away from Enias and then escape by climbing the canyon walls. As we neared the edge of the canyon, however, we came upon an old ruin. I was minded to pass it by for it reeked of danger, but Anthea wished to explore the inside. She refused to hear my arguments, and I had no choice but to follow her into the ruin. Inside, Anthea discovered a hidden pedestal when she touched it by accident, but before we could examine it more closely, we were attacked by a Troll that had made its den in the old building.

  At the mention of the Troll, Ascilius almost spilled his drink.

  “Two deadly dangers in one night,” he said shaking his head. “When Orianus hears of it, he will lock his daughter away in some tall tower.”

  Ignoring the interruption, Elerian continued his story. “I was lucky enough to slay the Troll with a killing spell. Then, upon examining the pedestal again, we found three objects hidden under a crystal dome. The first was a silver beech leaf covered in bright diamonds and suspended from a silver chain. Anthea took that for herself. The second article was a spell book, and the third was a silver torque. I could not open the spell book, so I sent it to join my own. For some reason I cannot explain, I placed the torque on my arm. I have not been able to get it off since then,” said Elerian as he rolled up the sleeve of his left arm to show Ascilius the armband.