The Warrior (The Hidden Realm)

by A. Giannetti

  “We are leaving now,” said Elerian, laughing softly to himself, for Ascilius had backed up against the far wall of the tent and was darting apprehensive looks all around him. “I was just giving Anthea a brief lesson on managing her third eye.”

  Elerian led Anthea out of the tent, and Ascilius breathed a sigh of relief when the tent flap fell closed behind them.

  “They are bad enough by themselves,” he muttered to himself as he sought his blankets. “Who knows what mischief they are capable of plotting together.”

  Silent as a pair of shadows, Elerian and Anthea walked through the encampment. By the time they reached her pavilion, Anthea had grown confident in her steps as she became used to guiding herself with her magical eye. She led Elerian around to the back of Orianus’s tent, away from the two tall sentries who guarded the entrance to the pavilion.

  “How will you get inside?” was Elerian’s silent thought, for he saw no other entrance.

  Anthea made no answer. Instead, her golden shade reached out its left hand. A small golden orb flew from her fingers. When the sphere struck the tent wall, a long slit appeared in the heavy fabric. Anthea slipped silently through the opening, and a moment later, a second spell repaired the fabric from the inside.

  “She knows more magic than she let on,” thought Elerian himself, impressed at the spells that Anthea had mastered on her own.

  He returned to his own tent, moving as silently as a wraith through the encampment. When he slipped through the entrance to his own tent, he found that Ascilius was still awake, lying under his comfortable blankets. His dark eyes gleamed in the yellow light of the mage lamp, and he wore a troubled look on his craggy face.

  “Anthea is safe in her tent,” Elerian reassured him as he sent away his ring and became visible again.

  “I was not worried about that,” said Ascilius.

  “Then why the long face?” asked Elerian. “Anthea seems to be adjusting well to her new state.”

  “She has not thought this through yet,” said Ascilius gloomily. “What if she has become as ageless as yourself? It is a fate she may not welcome when she realizes that time will sweep away all that is dear and familiar to her,” he said grimly.

  Elerian felt confused at the censure in the Dwarf’s voice, as if he blamed Elerian for what might happen to Anthea.

  “I saved her life in the only way I could,” he said defensively. “Even if I had known ahead of time that it would change her, I would have done the same?”

  “I do not blame you for what you did,” said Ascilius, “but there will be consequences, for her and for us. What will Orianus say when he finds out what his daughter has become?”

  “He will be happy that she is still alive, I would think,” countered Elerian.

  “That remains to be seen,” said Ascilius heavily. Pulling the blankets up over his head, he turned over onto his left side and promptly went to sleep.

  Ignoring his gloomy companion, Elerian sat down on the floor again by his unfinished bowl. Casting a levitating spell with his right hand, he watched with his third eye as a small sphere of golden light flew from his fingertips. It struck the bowl, covering it with a film of golden light that remained tethered to Elerian’s hand by a thin, shimmering filament of gold. Raising the bowl off the carpet with a gesture of his hand, Elerian began to work on it again, for time was growing short, and he wished to finish it.

  When he looked up again from his work, Elerian saw that the sky above the smoke hole was beginning to lighten from the approaching sunrise. Turning back to his bowl, he examined his creation critically for a moment before plucking it out of the air.

  “Not a bad effort,” said Ascilius, who had risen from his bed unnoticed by Elerian.

  Taking the bowl from Elerian, he admired its clear, crystal sides which had twisting blue and green threads running through them.

  “The chief flaw is its delicacy,” said Ascilius as he carelessly set the bowl spinning on the end of his right forefinger.

  Elerian admired the reflection of the mage light in the bowl’s gleaming sides.

  “You could show me how to harden it, but of course, that is secret Dwarf knowledge,” he said dryly.”

  “I think I can safely reveal some of the secret now,” said Ascilius. “When the bowl is done, I will show you how to harden it.”

  “Why the change of heart?” asked Elerian in surprise.

  “The more important part of the secret is how to undo the spell. That part I will not show you just yet.”

  “I will pry it out of you in time,” said Elerian serenely as he put away his basin in the chest where he stored it. “It is only a matter of plying you with enough drinks.”

  “Orianus will likely execute both of us long before then,” said Ascilius, turning gloomy again. “He will probably call for us to appear before him today.”

  At that moment, the tent flap was lifted up, and a grim faced Tarsi in brown leather armor entered the tent.

  THE JUDGMENT

  “The king summons the both of you to his tent,” said the messenger, looking sternly from Elerian to Ascilius. “Make sure that you are prompt,” he said shortly before stepping back outside and letting the tent flap fall closed behind him.

  “We should have never have lingered in this camp,” said Ascilius gloomily. “I blame myself the most, for it was obvious from the night of the feast that Anthea had her eye on you and that she was as willful as ever. I should have warned you then that trouble was bound to follow if you did not keep your distance from her. Orianus is a wise, just man, but there are limits to everyone’s patience. Anthea is his only daughter and dear to his heart, but he cannot humor in everything. After Dacien, she is next in line for the throne. Orianus cannot allow just anyone to wed her, for he is the high king of the Tarsi, ruler of the white city and the whole of the eastern plains. He is liable to banish the both of us now or worse.”

  Elerian gave Ascilius a perplexed look, as if wondering to himself whether Ascilius had lost his mind.

  “Ascilius, you are sadly mistaken,” he said in a voice that was both sad and amused. “Anthea thinks I am a fool, fit only to entertain her. If I asked her father for her hand, she would dissolve into laugher. Orianus may punish me, but it will be for abetting his daughter’s reckless behavior, not because Anthea wishes to marry me.”

  Ascilius gave Elerian a pitying look, but before he could say anything else, an attendant appeared at the tent entrance with fresh clothes for both him and Elerian. The attendant returned after they had washed and dressed themselves.

  “I am to take you to the king’s tent,” he said in a neutral voice that gave no indication as to how they would be treated by Orianus when they arrived for their audience.

  “At least there are no armed men come to take us away,” thought Elerian to himself as he and Ascilius followed the attendant to Orianus’s tent. “I will take that as a hopeful sign despite Ascilius’s misgivings.”

  When Elerian and Ascilius arrived at the king’s pavilion, the attendant led them past the two armed door wardens guarding the entrance. After they passed through the entryway, the guide stepped outside again, leaving Elerian and Ascilius standing side by side just inside the pavilion. They found things arranged much as they had been on their last visit. A large, polished wooden table, laden with food and drink for the morning meal, had been set up in the open space to the left of the tent entrance. Seated at the head of the large table in the center of the room was Orianus, with Anthea on his left and Dacien on his right. On the left side of the table were seated two old men, both of whom had white hair and wise blue eyes. Leaning against each of their chairs was a staff of polished wood.

  “Mages,” thought Elerian to himself as soon as he laid eyes on the men. “Why are they here I wonder?”

  On the right side of the table, opposite from the two ancients, were two empty chairs obviously meant for him and Ascilius.

  “Eat and refresh yourselves,” said Orianus in a gracious but
solemn voice.

  Despite the king’s invitation, both Elerian and Ascilius passed the table laden with food without sparing it a glance, for neither of them had any appetite. As they seated themselves in the two empty chairs at the table, Dacien gave Elerian a cheerful look, but Anthea’s face was expressionless, giving no clue to her thoughts. Elerian smiled back at Dacien, becoming at once more hopeful that the meeting would have a good outcome. Even Ascilius lost some of his gloomy look.

  “There are several matters of great importance that we must discuss today,” said Orianus gravely to Elerian and Ascilius. Turning to Elerian, he said, “Last night I took my daughter to task for riding off with you alone. Her actions, I told her, besides being inappropriate for a princess of the realm also put the both of you in unnecessary danger.”

  Elerian stirred himself to defend Anthea but remained silent when she sent a warning look his way.

  “She then informed me that there was nothing improper about riding with her betrothed and that the dangers the pair of you encountered were beyond her control,” continued Orianus expressionlessly.

  If a Troll had struck Elerian on the head at that moment with a great wooden club, he could not have been more stunned.

  “Did you ask my daughter for her hand, Elerian?” asked Orianus with a penetrating look in his wise blue eyes.

  Elerian kept his face impassive as he cautiously chose the words for his answer to the king’s question.

  “It has been my intention to wed Anthea since I first saw her in my orb,” said Elerian truthfully.

  “Ah yes, the orb,” said Orianus, as if he regretted the memory of the thing. “I see now why it showed me Anthea’s face. Ascilius was right to warn me against looking into it,” he said softly, as if speaking to himself. “It is a perilous device.”

  Elerian wanted badly to remind Orianus that his orb did not shape the future, but he wisely kept silent.

  “Before I pass judgment on my daughter’s decision to give you her hand in marriage,” continued Orianus, “I must first know more of your history, Elerian. Anthea has informed me that you are a descendant of the Elf king Fenius, disguised for your safety.”

  A steely look from Anthea warned Elerian of terrible consequences if he denied this. He kept his face blank, but inside, he was in turmoil as he considered how he might answer Orianus’s question, for he had no proof to back up Anthea’s claim that he was descended from royalty.

  “Still, it could be true,” thought Elerian to himself. “I will let Orianus draw his own conclusions,” he finally decided.

  Keeping silent, he ended the illusion that disguised his true form. The years fell away from him, and his face and figure became fair beyond measure. A light shone in his clear gray eyes and a hint of starlight seemed to play about his face and dark hair.

  Orianus turned to the two old men sitting on his right, a question in his eyes. Both of the ancients were now holding their staffs.

  “You see his true form,” said one of the men.

  “My art says that he is truly a member of the elder race,” agreed his companion.

  “Anthea was not deceived then,” said Orianus turning to Elerian. He did not appear at all surprised. “I cannot deny your suit then for my daughter on the basis of blood,” continued Orianus, “for you are a prince, equal to her in rank. Fimbria, however, is no more. You are a poor exile, hardly suitable for my daughter to marry.”

  “An exile perhaps but not poor,” said Ascilius abruptly. “I have promised him half my fortune when I return to Ennodius.”

  “Your treasure likely lies under the dragon’s claws, Ascilius,” said Orianus sadly. “We have had no word from the northern kingdoms in months. Not one of the scouts that I sent north has returned. If you follow them, seeking to reclaim your treasure then I fear that I shall never see you again in this life.”

  “Nonetheless, I will return to Ennodius and I will recover my treasure,” said Ascilius in a grim voice. “Elerian will have the price of his wedding.” Ascilius’s face looked hard as stone as he spoke.

  Orianus turned his solemn gaze on Elerian.

  “You have two choices Elerian,” he said gravely. “You can accompany Ascilius to Ennodius to help reclaim your half of his treasure, or you can leave Tarsius and wait in some foreign land until you have word of Ascilius’s success or failure. If you choose the latter course, I will give you safe passage to Hesperia or anywhere else you wish to go along with a suitable reward for saving the lives of my children. If ever you gain your share of Ascilius’s treasure, you may then return to my kingdom and wed my daughter.

  When Orianus finished speaking, Elerian glanced at Anthea for a brief moment, but her face gave no hint as to what her thoughts were. Orianus’s face was also expressionless.

  “Orianus has set a clever trap for me,” thought Elerian to himself. “If I leave with Ascilius, he believes that I will never return. If I refuse to accompany Ascilius, I will appear to be a coward in Anthea’s eyes. Even if I were to return to Tarsius with my share of Ascilius’s treasure, she would have nothing to do with me.”

  “What is your choice, Elerian?” asked Orianus with a trace of impatience in his voice. “This matter must be decided now.”

  Looking Orianus steadily in the eye, Elerian said without hesitation, “I will accompany Ascilius, but not because I hope to gain some of his fortune. I promised him when we escaped from Nefandus that I would accompany him to Ennodius. A promise made must be kept,” said Elerian firmly.

  “That was before we heard of the coming of the dragon,” protested Ascilius. “If you change your mind now, I will not hold it against you.”

  “Dragon or no dragon, I will not go back on my word,” said Elerian decisively. He glanced at Anthea, but her eyes remained shuttered. Orianus, on the other hand, showed a reluctant approval of Elerian’s words in his face.

  “Both you and Ascilius have courage,” he said gravely to Elerian. “If there is anything you need for this journey, feel free to ask. At the least you shall have weapons and supplies to last many days.”

  “I thank you for your help, Orianus,” said Ascilius before Elerian could reply. “I do not think we will need anything else beyond what you have mentioned. Even if you gave me a thousand mounted men to ride at my back, I could not assail the dragon directly.”

  “Father, let me go with them,” said Dacien suddenly and unexpectedly.

  Orianus’s face instantly hardened. “You will remain here Dacien, by my side. Ascilius’s quest is none of your affair.”

  “Listen to your father, Dacien,” urged Ascilius. “I know my return to Ennodius seems like a great adventure, but there is a good chance that neither Elerian nor I will ever return from this journey. I would gladly go alone if I could persuade Elerian to stay behind.”

  “Think what a story it will make if you do come back,” said Dacien enviously. “The tale of your other adventures is already being told in every corner of the war camp. Both you and Elerian have become quite famous already.”

  “Their fame may be short lived,” said Orianus quietly. “How do you expect to deal with the dragon, Ascilius? It is a beast that has the power to destroy armies.”

  “It may not sound very heroic, but I will not confront the dragon at all if I can help it,” said Ascilius honestly. “Elerian and I will try to reach the city without revealing ourselves at all. If we succeed in finding a way to enter Ennodius, we will stay out of the dragon’s reach in the smaller tunnels of the city until I discover whether any of my people are still alive. If there are survivors, I will try to take them north to Galenus. Then, and only then, will I try to recover my treasure.”

  “A risky plan,” said Orianus shaking his head. “You will have miles to travel in the open before you ever reach Ennodius. I do not see how you can expect to escape the dragon’s notice. My men have seen it from afar, patrolling the sky above the plains south and east of Ennodius.”

  “I must try no matter how hopeless it seems,” sai
d Ascilius stubbornly. “Elerian is a crafty fellow, and he has powers that he has not revealed yet. I think he may surprise even the dragon.”

  Elerian barely heard Ascilius and Orianus, for his thoughts were otherwise occupied, wondering what Anthea thought about his decision to accompany Ascilius to Ennodius. Whenever he stole a look in her direction, her cool, blue eyes gave no clue as to what she thought of his decision.

  “Does she really wish to wed me, or is it just another way for her to make a fool of me?” Elerian wondered to himself.”

  “Let us break our fast then since all is now decided,” said Orianus, interrupting Elerian’s thoughts. “When you have made all your preparations, Ascilius, I shall accompany you at least as far as the Tanicus. Anthea and Dacien may also come with us if they wish.”

  “At least I shall see her for a little longer,” thought Elerian to himself as he listened to Orianus’s announcement.

  During the meal that followed, Orianus, Dacien, and Ascilius discussed various stratagems for dealing with the dragon, but Anthea and Elerian were mostly silent and ate little. Elerian gradually resumed his disguise, without being aware of it. As soon as a decent interval had passed, he left the table with the excuse that he had preparations to make. As he walked out of the tent, Anthea also rose and excused herself from the table. Orianus frowned as Anthea vanished into the recesses of the tent behind him, but he did not stop his conversation with Ascilius.

  Many people were stirring and preparing their morning meals as Elerian returned to his tent. He paid little attention to the encampment around him, however, and was completely unaware that someone, well wrapped in an old cloak with the hood pulled low over their face to conceal their identity, was following behind him like a shadow. Only when he entered his tent did Elerian realize that someone had slipped in behind him.

  Spinning around on his left heel, he searched at his belt for his knife before remembering that he had gone weaponless to the king’s audience.