The Warrior (The Hidden Realm)

by A. Giannetti

  Ascilius eagerly examined the torque. It shimmered softly in the warm yellow mage light, and the emeralds became pools of green light.

  “This has a good deal of argentum in it,” he said in the tone of a professional smith. “It has the look of being made by Elven hands.”

  “Do you have any idea what its purpose might be?” asked Elerian hopefully.

  “None at all,” said Ascilius brusquely. “You were foolish to put it on,” he said disapprovingly. “I warned you before that such things are highly dangerous in the wrong hands. Tell me about the book,” he said abruptly.

  Elerian opened his long right hand, and the brown, leather-bound book suddenly appeared on his palm.

  “Dymiter,” said Ascilius triumphantly, for he could read the elvish letters as well as Elerian. “The Tarsi would never speak of it, but the Dwarves have long thought that he fled to Tarsius after the fall of Fimbria.”

  “He married Anthea’s great grandmother before he died,” said Elerian quietly.

  “It has long been suspected that there is Elven blood in Orianus’s line,” said Ascilius, “but even I did not know Dymiter was the source. Do not reveal this to anyone else, for Torquatus hated Dymiter almost as much as he did Fenius. If he learned of this, he would stop at nothing to destroy the king and all his family.”

  Ascilius made no move to take the book, so Elerian sent it away again before continuing his story.

  “It was growing dark by then so we decided to leave. When we stepped outside, we encountered two shape changers in the forms of lentuluses. One of them revealed that they had come to carry away Anthea.”

  “There is a traitor in our midst, then,” said Ascilius sharply. “How else could they have known where to find Anthea? Someone must have seen the two of you leave the encampment and given them the information.”

  “Why would anyone betray Anthea?” asked Elerian with a frown.

  “Gold,” replied Ascilius at once. “Torquatus knows Orianus dearly loves his daughter. The Goblin king would pay any price to lay hands on her.”

  “But how could the shape changers have gotten here so quickly?” asked Elerian in a puzzled voice. “The Goblins are far away across the Arvina.”

  “Perhaps not all of them,” suggested Ascilius. “You have seen firsthand the wilderness that covers the mountains to the north. The Tarsi kill them whenever they find them, but packs of canigrae still live in the forests as you have seen for yourself. A pair of shape changers could easily slip into the mountains and hide among the canigrae, waiting for word of Anthea’s whereabouts from some traitor in the encampment.”

  “Well, however they came to be there, “continued Elerian, “Anthea suddenly stepped in front of me as they made ready to carry out their plan. Before I could stop her, she somehow animated some hidden power in the necklace she now wore, injuring and driving off both of the Goblins. She also did grave injury to herself at the same time.”

  Ascilius nodded his head knowingly. “As I said before, artifacts crafted with argentum can be deadly in the wrong hands. What happened to the poor maid then?”

  “She was dying, and I had no idea how I might save her,” said Elerian quietly, as he remembered the despair he had felt at that moment. “Out of desperation, I touched her shade with my own, giving her some of my own life force to keep her alive. I succeeded, but then, the canigrae returned for us. Anthea and I were both in a weakened state by then. We would have died under their teeth except for Enias. He rescued us, carrying us both out their reach. Not long after that, we met the company you rode with out on the plains.”

  Ascilius sat for a moment lost in thought. Finally, he spoke.

  “Orianus will be angry that you left the camp alone with his daughter, but he will have to give you credit for saving her,” he said thoughtfully. “When I tell him that there is a traitor in his camp, he will also have to put that on the plus side of the ledger. If you are lucky, he will simply banish you from his land instead of imprisoning you or cutting off your head.”

  Ascilius drained his cup and then wearily sought out his bed.

  Elerian finished his own drink, but disturbed by Ascilius’s gloomy prediction, felt no urge to sleep. Finally, he decided to work for a time on his bowl. It was his intention to give it to Orianus, and he now had a clearer idea of what its purpose would be.

  After taking it from the chest where he had left it, he sat on the floor and set it spinning in the air at the level of his waist. While Ascilius slept heavily in his bed, Elerian shaped the bowl with his long, clever fingers. The stone was clear now, like fine crystal, and it flashed golden fire as it spun in the light of the Dwarf lamp hung from the ceiling over his head. Elerian’s clear gray eyes took on a look of intense concentration as he immersed himself in his creation. As he worked, the cares and worries of the day slowly slipped away, pushed to the back of his mind by his enjoyment of the exercise of his craft.

  AN UNEXPECTED VISIT

  Deeply immersed in his task, Elerian did not hear the tent flap lift. When a hooded figure stepped into the tent, he started and leaped to his feet in surprise. The suspended bowl fell onto the carpet with a muffled thud, rousing Ascilius, whose tousled head immediately emerged from under his covers.

  “Do not make any noise,” softly ordered a clear voice, which Elerian immediately recognized as Anthea’s.

  Ascilius’s eyes widened in alarm as he, too, recognized the voice of the king’s daughter.

  “Anthea, it is not safe for you to be out alone with a traitor loose in the camp,” he said sharply. “Also, Elerian and I will be in a great deal of trouble if your father discovers that you are here at this time of night.”

  “I must speak to Elerian now,” said Anthea, firmly. She settled herself cross legged onto the floor, but she did not remove her hood, keeping her face concealed.

  “Has she come to tell me to flee her father’s wrath,” wondered Elerian to himself. Filled with unease, he also seated himself again.

  “I need to know what is happening to me,” said Anthea, throwing back her hood as she spoke.

  Elerian and Ascilius both started at the sight of her face. The features illuminated by the warm glow of the mage light were still those of Anthea, but they were subtly different. They possessed a perfection now that was beyond the human norm. A light shone in her eyes and a faint radiance shimmered about her dark hair.

  “I am changing,” said Anthea. Her voice sounded composed, but Elerian could detect an undercurrent of worry in it. “As you can see,” continued Anthea, “my features have been altered. I can also see in the dark now, as well as if it were midday. At other times, however, I lose my sight entirely. The world becomes a whirlwind of lights and shadows, and I cannot see at all. Is it the necklace, Elerian? Is it affecting me in some way? I cannot take it off,” she said quietly.

  “I do not think it is the necklace,” said Ascilius quietly.

  Anthea and Elerian both started, for they had both forgotten that he was there.

  “This was your doing, I think,” said Ascilius, looking directly at Elerian. “When you joined your shade to hers, you woke the elvish side of her nature. It is becoming dominant now over her human side.”

  “But how could I have done that?” objected Elerian.

  “I think that I know what happened,” said Anthea, sounding a bit relieved at Ascilius’s explanation for the strange and sometimes frightening changes that she was undergoing. “When your shade joined with mine, the power you offered me felt foreign. At first, I could not accept it, but then, I felt something awaken in me that was able to take in the succor that you were offering me. I realize now that it must have been the elvish part of my nature. After accepting your gift, it must have grown stronger at the expense of my human side, hence the changes that I have experienced.”

  “You sensed nothing human at all inside of me?” asked Elerian questioningly. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, he had still harbored a belief, up to now, that he might be a
t least part human.

  “Nothing,” said Anthea positively. “Part of you was Elf, like me. If the spirit of the forest grew arms and legs and walked among us, then that is how I would describe the other part of you.”

  “That must be why the trees call me a half blood then,” said Elerian softly. “I am part Elf and part something else. What could that other half be?” he asked softly as if he were talking to himself.

  Anthea gave Elerian an uncertain look, as if unsure as to whether or not he was joking. “You never mentioned that you can talk to trees,” she said suspiciously.

  “There are many things I can do that I have never mentioned,” said Elerian with a flash of his old humor.

  Anthea frowned but let it pass. Now that she understood what was happening to her, she no longer seemed so upset.

  “What are the lights that I see occasionally?” she asked Elerian.

  “You have developed the third eye,” said Elerian in a puzzled voice. “You can see the shades of living things. It makes no sense, however, for you have no mage powers of your own.”

  “I also have abilities that you know nothing about,” said Anthea loftily to Elerian. “I have been able to perform magic since I was a young child.”

  “Why were you never trained, then?” asked Elerian with a frown. To his surprise, Anthea blushed, the first time that Elerian had ever seen her show a trace of embarrassment.

  “Her father did not think it was wise,” said Ascilius dryly before Anthea could answer Elerian’s question. “Even without any training, she still caused more than her share of mischief.”

  Anthea suddenly began to laugh softly. “I remember one time when I fixed a gold coin to the ground and watched from hiding as Ascilius tried to pick it up. He said some things that I am sure were not fit for a young girl’s ears.”

  Now it was Ascilius’s turn to flush. “There is not a Dwarf alive who would pass up a gold coin,” he asserted weakly.

  Elerian felt himself warm to Anthea even more. Here was a kindred spirit.

  “I will train you if you wish,” said Elerian with a smile. “I think it may be good for you to be subject to my orders for a time.”

  “I am subject to no one’s orders, least of all yours,” said Anthea haughtily.

  “You must be trained,” said Elerian turning serious. “You cannot be allowed to run about with you power uncontrolled. Who knows what damage you could do to others or yourself?”

  “Would I have a spell book?” asked Anthea after a moment of thought.

  “Of course,” said Elerian. “You will have a book, and I will show how to make it appear and disappear.”

  “I will consider it then,” said Anthea.

  She looked closely at Elerian for a moment, and then asked, “Why is there a cloak around you, Elerian?”

  “What sort of a cloak?” he asked in surprise.

  “Your shade had a kind of golden cloak around it, preventing me from seeing it clearly when we were joined together.”

  Elerian frowned. “It sounds as if you are describing an illusion, but I have cast no spell over myself.”

  It was Ascilius’s turn to frown now. He looked impatiently at Elerian for a moment, then rose and fetched a silver mirror from a nightstand that stood against the tent wall. Mirror in hand, he walked back to stand before Elerian, an irritated look on his face.

  “This nonsense has gone far enough,” he said sharply to Elerian. “How old are you?”

  “By my count, I am forty-two years old, not ancient but no longer a youth,” replied Elerian, wondering at the purpose of Ascilius’s question.

  Ascilius held out the mirror to Elerian. “Tell me what you see.”

  Elerian looked into the mirror. He saw the weather-beaten face of a middle-aged man prematurely aged by hardship. There was gray in his hair and deep lines etched into his face. “I see a face that matches my years and experiences,” replied Elerian.

  Ascilius’s look of impatience immediately turned to one of annoyance. “It is one thing to deceive others, Elerian, but it is quite another to deceive yourself. Look beneath the illusion you have unknowingly cast over yourself,” he said forcefully.

  At his words, it seemed as if a veil fell away from Elerian’s eyes. Suddenly, he saw the unlined face of a youth in the mirror, not more than twenty-five years of age, with thick, black hair untouched by gray. Only his clear gray eyes carried in their depths a well of experience that hinted at his true age.

  “How can this be?” asked Elerian in a stunned voice.

  “The explanation is simple I think,” said Ascilius gently. “You wore a disguise for most of your life from what you told me before. You finally revealed yourself to me in the shaft of the Old One, but I think that the habit of remaining hidden was too ingrained for you to abandon it completely. As time passed, I noticed that your appearance gradually changed. You looked older and more human. It did not matter to me how you looked, so I never mentioned it. In the old days, the Elves often disguised themselves when they traveled abroad, revealing themselves only to those known to be friendly to their people. I did not realize until now that you had hidden the truth from your own eyes as well as everyone else’s.”

  “I have not aged at all,” said Elerian wonderingly as he looked at his reflection.

  “The Elves do not age, Elerian,” said Ascilius quietly. “In a thousand years, when I have become only a memory, you will look just the same as you do at this moment.”

  The sudden revelation was almost too much for Elerian to take in.

  “It is as Balbus warned me so long ago,” thought Elerian to himself. “I spent so many years thinking I was human that it is hard for me to believe otherwise, even when I have the proof in front of my eyes.”

  Elerian looked up and saw Anthea staring at him with a thoughtful expression on her face. Oddly enough, she did not seem surprised by his true appearance.

  “Show me how to cast a similar illusion,” she demanded.

  “You cannot learn a spell in a matter of minutes with no training, Anthea,” Elerian cautioned her. A frown wrinkled her fair brow at his words, a sure sign of gathering storm clouds, and Elerian hastily started the lesson rather than risk her temper.

  Anthea was an apt pupil, surprising Elerian by learning the simple spell in a short time. She then cast it on herself. Her features immediately became those of the old Anthea.

  “No one will guess what is happening to me,” she said with satisfaction as she surveyed her features in the same silver mirror Elerian had used. “You should resume your disguise, also,” she said to Elerian with an enigmatic look in her eyes.

  “But you did not like the way I looked before,” protested Elerian. “You told me more than once that I looked too old and worn.”

  Anthea narrowed her eyes, and Elerian hastily resumed his own illusion without any further argument. “Surely, women are more complex and harder to understand than the most arcane spell,” he thought to himself.

  “No one will notice you now,” said Anthea in a satisfied voice as she looked over Elerian’s disguise.

  After returning the mirror that she held in her right hand to its place on the nightstand, Anthea turned to Elerian and Ascilius and said, “I am easier in my mind now. I should return to my tent now before anyone discovers that I am gone.”

  “It is too dangerous for you to be out alone with a traitor about,” objected Ascilius as she drew her hood over her head.

  “I will be safe enough,” said Anthea with a hard gleam in her dark eyes. There was a whisper of steel on leather as she suddenly drew a long, double edged dagger from beneath her cloak. She held the weapon confidently, as if she knew well how to use it. As quickly as it had appeared, her dagger vanished. “I have my silver leaf, too, if I need it,” continued Anthea, pulling back her cloak to expose the silver necklace which gleamed softly around her fair neck.

  “You must not use the necklace again,” said Elerian at once in an alarmed voice. “I will accompany you
back to your tent to see that you stay safe.”

  Calling his ring to his hand, Elerian suddenly disappeared. Anthea started when Elerian’s disembodied voice said, “You must also become invisible.”

  A moment later, she, too, disappeared as Elerian extended the invisibility spell produced by his ring to cover her also.

  “I will return quickly,” said Elerian, to Ascilius. Opening his third eye, he turned to Anthea’s golden shade. “We should hold hands,” he said softly.

  “To stay together or because you want too?” asked Anthea in an amused voice.

  Elerian was glad his face was invisible.

  “To stay together of course,” he said innocently as he took Anthea’s slim left hand in his right. Their shades touched, and they were suddenly able to share their thoughts.

  “Open your third eye,” instructed Elerian, silently informing her on how it was done.

  Hesitantly, Anthea opened her magical eye and, at once, became disoriented as the world of shades was revealed to her. Fearing that she might fall, she leaned back against Elerian for support.

  “The confusion will pass,” Elerian reassured her, recalling his own difficulties as a child when he had first acquired mage sight. Without words, he showed her how to sort out their own golden shades from the dead black shades of the other objects around them. There were subtle variations in those shades of black, and Elerian showed her how to distinguish the walls of the tent from the rugs covering the ground. Holding on to his hand, Anthea took her first few tentative steps, gradually gaining confidence.

  “How much easier this is with an instructor,” thought Elerian to himself. As a young boy he had been forced to master the third eye on his own, a daunting task at the time.

  “What are you two doing,” Ascilius suddenly asked. “You are not plotting any mischief, are you?” he asked suspiciously.