The Warrior (The Hidden Realm)

by A. Giannetti

  Elerian was more than happy to drop the matter, for Anthea sounded quite serious about the torture.

  “Being in her company rather reminds me of the time I spent with Durio,” mused Elerian to himself. “There is always a certain element of danger in the air when she is nearby.”

  When they arrived at the mess tent, Elerian and Ascilius sat at a table with Anthea between them. They found that they were the only ones sitting at the long tables because of the lateness of the hour. Food was brought to them, but Elerian found it difficult to eat, for whenever Anthea turned to speak to him, Ascilius, behind her back, drew his forefinger across his throat in a cutting motion and made the most horrible faces besides. As the meal progressed, Elerian was not sure if he wanted to laugh or to choke the Dwarf. The harassment ended abruptly when Anthea turned unexpectedly toward Ascilius while he was grimacing at Elerian. Ascilius immediately fell into a sudden fit of coughing while Anthea looked at him with suspicious eyes. Behind her back, Elerian laughed silently, drawing his own forefinger across his throat as Ascilius tried to put on an innocent face for Anthea. Unexpectedly, Anthea turned his way, catching him in the act.

  Her eyes darkened with anger as she realized that she was caught in the middle of some sort of jest. Elerian and Ascilius both cringed, expecting a tongue lashing at the least, but Anthea unexpectedly burst out laughing in a clear, silvery voice.

  “The two of you have missed your calling,” she said in an amused voice. “The pair of you should become fools in my father’s court to keep the people amused with your antics. From now on I shall always be certain to sit where I can keep an eye on each of you.”

  True to her word, she moved to the opposite side of the table and things were quieter after that. She asked many questions as they ate, and Ascilius kept her entertained with some of their more amusing adventures. They stayed late at the table and by the time they rose to go to their tents; Ascilius was humming happily to himself, for he had put a fair dent in the king’s store of wine. Anthea and Elerian walked arm and arm with him back to the tent.

  “It must be wonderful to have such a true friend,” she said enviously to Elerian as they put Ascilius to bed. She arranged Ascilius’s beard over the blankets with her long, slender fingers. “I believe he would do anything for you, even to spending his life.”

  “As I would for him,” said Elerian showing a depth of affection for the sturdy Dwarf that he would never have admitted to if Ascilius was awake.

  “And yet the two of you quarrel constantly,” she said with a smile.

  “It is a flaw in my nature,” said Elerian with a smile, “or so Ascilius tells me. He claims the Elves were ever prone to strange fits of humor.”

  “Will you be as true a friend to me as you are to Ascilius?” asked Anthea wistfully. For the first time, she looked like the lonely maid Elerian had seen in his orb.

  “You have had my love since I first set eyes on your image in my orb, but now that I have met you, you have my friendship as well,” promised Elerian. “From this moment on I will never fail you while I still live,” he said softly.

  Ascilius suddenly stirred in his bed and they started away from each other, but Elerian marked that she seemed pleased with his answer. They stepped outside the tent, hand in hand and stood together just outside the entrance.

  It was full dark now and the black dome of the heavens was covered with brilliant stars. A soft wind stirred over the plains bringing with it the scent of fresh grass. All around them, lanterns were being covered in the tents as the people prepared for sleep.

  “Call Enias and let us go riding,” suggested Anthea to Elerian, her eyes gleaming in the starlight. “I feel no desire for sleep yet.”

  “I would like nothing better,” said Elerian regretfully, “but your father would likely send out a search party to find us. You have already been gone all day.”

  Anthea sighed sadly and turned a dejected face in his direction. “It does not seem fair,” she lamented. “You and Ascilius are able to have the most wonderful adventures, and I am not allowed even a ride in the dark.”

  “It is late for you to be practicing your wiles on me,” said Elerian in an amused voice, for he had seen the mischief in her eyes. “The wise fox will not be caught in the same trap twice. Besides, even now your father’s men approach to escort you back to your tent.”

  Anthea looked resentfully at the approaching men, and her sigh was not feigned this time.

  “Until tomorrow then,” she said sadly, walking away without a word to the two tall guards who fell in behind her. They cast hard looks at Elerian, but he paid them no mind for he had other matters to think about as he entered his tent.

  PARTING GIFTS

  After Anthea departed, Elerian darkened the mage light which illuminated the tent, but he made no move toward his bed. In the darkness, which was no obstacle to his sight, he retrieved from his pack the dagger handles whose blades had been destroyed under Calenus, one when it struck Torquatus, the other when it pierced the lentulus that had attacked him and Ascilius. The argentum and the precious gems set in the handles gleamed in starlight that came through the vent hole.

  Quietly, Elerian drew a deep breath to steady himself before lighting a mage fire in the same brazier he had used earlier during his lessons. The flames squirmed rebelliously against the golden net he cast around them, but, to his relief, Elerian found that he was well able to control them. When he placed both dagger handles in the fire, the red flames played briefly over his fingers, but he kept their heat at bay as Ascilius had shown him. Elerian then allowed the heat of the fire to enter the argentum in the handles, watching fascinated as the silvery metal flowed away from the steel tang in the center of the handles, puddling in the lowest point of the brazier. With nothing left to hold them in place, the bright gems set in the metal also fell away from the steel. The two largest stones were crimson rubies. The remaining gems were a mix of fiery diamonds and sky blue sapphires, all of equal size and shape.

  Gingerly, for his trust in his skill was still imperfect, Elerian reached into the flames and removed the steel and the gems. His confidence increased when he found that they were cool to the touch, for he had not allowed the heat of the flames to reach them.

  Elerian allowed the argentum that remained in the brazier to cool slightly before parting the metal into two unequal pieces with his fingers. After setting the smaller piece aside, he divided the larger lump of argentum into slightly unequal parts before suspending both pieces above the flames in the brazier. As the pieces of argentum began to spin slowly in the air, gleaming brightly as they reflected the ruddy glow of the flames, Elerian formed the hot metal into two perfect circles with his long clever fingers, keeping the heat of the fire at bay with his magical power. Once the bands of silvery argentum were shaped to his liking, Elerian extinguished the mage fire, staring for long moments at the two perfect silver rings lying in the palm of his left hand, one slightly smaller than the other. A great wave of exhaustion suddenly swept over him, muting the pleasure that he felt in his accomplishment. Carrying the newly made rings in his right hand, Elerian quietly left the tent. Outside, the cool night air quickly revived him, relieving some of the weariness that he felt. When he stepped back into the tent, he felt ready to begin again.

  After lighting another mage fire, Elerian suspended the rings above the flames again, allowing the argentum to heat and soften. Taking the two identical red rubies from the gems that had adorned the dagger handles, he affixed one to each ring, flowing the silvery argentum around their sides to form perfect cradles for the red jewels. Then, summoning his spell book, Elerian pored over the pages for an extended time, selecting the spells that he wished to cast over the rings. One at a time, he cast his charms, the heat of the red mage fire burning beneath the rings allowing the spells to permeate the hot argentum. When the last spell was enacted, Elerian set the rings aside.

  Taking out the unfinished crystal bowl that he had begun earlier, Elerian suspended
it over the brazier. After heating the last of the argentum in the mage fire, he inlaid the silvery metal around the sides of the basin, shaping it into intricate silver threads. He then inserted the remaining gems from the dagger handles around the rim of the bowl, spacing them at regular intervals.

  With the last details of the bowl finished, Elerian selected several more spells from his book, casting them one at a time over the hot argentum inlaid in its sides. He had just extinguished his mage fire for the last time when Ascilius’s deep voice suddenly broke the silence inside the tent.

  “I see you have finally finished your creation. I suppose you will want me to show you how to harden it next.”

  “By all means, if you think you can trust me with your secrets,” said Elerian cheerfully as he plucked his basin from out of the air, for it still hung suspended above the brazier.

  Rising from his bed, Ascilius walked over to Elerian. Taking the bowl from Elerian, he turned it over in his powerful fingers, admiring the artistry and skill that had gone into its creation.

  “What is the purpose of this thing?” he asked, for he had immediately noted the argentum inset around the rim of the basin.

  “I will show you later,” said Elerian mysteriously.

  “Keep your secrets then,” said Ascilius with a shrug. “Are you certain that you have done everything to it that you wish?” he asked. “You will not be able to alter it once the hardening spell takes effect.”

  “I could if I knew the counter spell,” said Elerian craftily.

  Ascilius frowned. “The counter spell is difficult and requires a great deal of power. Even among the Dwarves, few know this spell, but I will tell you if you wish. You must promise me, however, that you will not reveal it to anyone else.”

  “You finally trust me then with all your secret knowledge,” said Elerian with a smile.

  “I would trust you with my life,” said Ascilius simply, leaving Elerian both embarrassed and speechless.

  He said nothing as Ascilius laid the bowl at his feet, pretending to occupy himself with opening his spell book. With sure, firm strokes, he wrote down the two spells that Ascilius gave him, one to harden the bowl and a second to return it to its natural state. As Ascilius had promised, the second spell was much more complex and difficult to execute than the first. Elerian memorized the first spell and then sent his book away. He cast the hardening spell, watching with his third eye as a small orb of golden light flew from his right hand to strike the bowl resting on the floor by his feet. The orb spread and thinned, enveloping the bowl in a film of golden light before fading quickly away.

  Elerian picked up the bowl but could discern no visible change in it. Its sides remained clear as water, shot with twisted threads of red and green. The silver threads around the rim gleamed white at his touch, and the gems glittered as their blue and white facets reflected the silvery light.

  “Set it down,” said Ascilius.

  Elerian laid the basin on the floor, and Ascilius struck it a powerful blow with the tongs Elerian had used when he was learning to master the red mage fire. As if they were made of soft clay, the tongs bent deeply on the rim of the bowl. A clear, high-pitched sound filled the tent as if a chime had been rung.

  Elerian picked his creation, examining it for any damage, but it was still smooth and perfect in his hands.

  “Stop admiring that thing,” said Ascilius impatiently. “I wish to have breakfast, for I have much to do today. I have already informed Orianus that we are leaving, for I am growing more anxious by the hour about the fate of my city.”

  Ascilius’s announcement came as a surprise to Elerian. He had not expected to be parted from Anthea so quickly, but he made no complaint as he accompanied Ascilius to the dining tent. They had a corner table to themselves when they reached the mess tent and were able to speak freely.

  “You should forget about going with me,” said Ascilius as he spread a piece of white, crusty bread with butter and preserves. He had loaded his plate with crisp bacon, sausages, and eggs and had a large tankard of beer convenient to his left hand. “I do not feel right taking you away from Anthea. I can hardly bear to look the poor maid in the face.”

  Elerian had eaten only a slice of bread with butter and was now sipping a cup of amber wine. “There are no easy choices for me Ascilius. You know that Orianus would not permit me to stay in Tarsius if I remained behind, and I will not ask Anthea to go into exile with me. She would not think well of me in any case if I broke my word to you. When we have accomplished our task, I will return to the plains.”

  “What then?” asked Ascilius? “Will you be happy so far away from your precious trees?”

  Ascilius’s words took Elerian by surprise, for they awoke in him a sudden, intense longing for the sight of great trees reaching their branches high into the sky.

  “There are trees in this land too,” he said to Ascilius, thinking of the ancient forests he had seen in the Troll’s canyon, but his mind was suddenly filled with doubts. Would Anthea forsake the plains of her birth to dwell there with him? Could he even live in such a small space after experiencing the freedom of the great forests of The Middle Realm?

  “Solve one problem at a time,” Elerian silently advised himself. “The more difficult task will be to return in one piece, I think, with enough treasure to impress Orianus.”

  After breakfast, Elerian and Ascilius separated, Elerian to pack his few belongings and Ascilius to make final, last minute arrangements for their journey. A little after midday, he and Elerian left the war camp, Elerian on Enias and Ascilius on a trim black mare, small enough to ease some of his discomfort at being on horseback. With them went Orianus, his two children, and a goodly number of riders, men and women, all of them tall with bright gray or blue eyes. It cheered to Elerian to see so many fair folk accompanying them at least for a little while. Several wagons with supplies followed the company.

  Since this was an escort and not a war party, there was much conversation and light hearted laughing all around as they rode north. Elerian did not see Merula in the company nor had he seen any sign of him since Anthea had rebuked him the night she and Elerian had escaped from the Goblins. He wondered where the Tarsi had taken himself and what his mood would be once he learned that he and Anthea were suitors.

  Anthea left her father and brother behind to ride next to Elerian. Many in the company thought it odd to see the fair Anthea riding with the rough featured Elerian. Stranger still to many of them was the rumor that Elerian sought her hand in marriage.

  Ascilius dropped back to ride with Orianus and Dacien, leaving Anthea and Elerian to ride alone. Talking quietly, they exchanged words no one else could hear as they led the company over the mountains, stopping at nightfall on the edge of the foothills in sight of the open plains.

  A camp was immediately set up, and a fire was kindled near the wagons. After the evening meal, most of the party gathered around the leaping flames, sitting on folding chairs. Wine skins were passed from hand to hand, and those who had brought harps passed those around also. Many of those gathered around the fire had fair voices and numerous songs were sung, as the stars grew brighter in the sky overhead.

  Suddenly, first one and then another began to call out for Anthea to sing, for she was accounted to have the best voice of all, although she rarely sang in public. She and Elerian were seated near each other, and finally, she stood amidst loud clapping and calls of encouragement from all around.

  Anthea took one of the harps being offered to her and then looked down at Elerian.

  “Will you accompany me?” she asked with a smile.

  “If you wish me too,” he said reluctantly, for the habit of concealing his singing voice in public places was something that had been a habit with him since his youth. Reluctantly, he took the harp she offered him and stood up also. After they moved to the center of the circle, Elerian put his head down for a moment, ignoring the many curious, bright eyes around him as he ran his long fingers over the harp strin
gs to get the feel of the instrument.

  “Do you remember the song we sang by the canyon?” asked Anthea.

  “How could I forget?” replied Elerian, and he began to play the melody on the harp. Anthea raised her clear, silvery voice and Elerian joined her with his own. A silence fell over the camp as they listened to their two clear voices wrap around each other, one higher and one lower, their sweet notes filling all of the camp.

  In the flickering light of the fire, Elerian’s features suddenly seemed to change and he now seemed a fair, young lord, with shining gray eyes and a light that seemed to cling to his features. Anthea, too, seemed changed, brighter and fairer somehow.

  Then, the song ended and they seemed themselves again. The company gathered around them blinked in confusion, wondering if it was a trick of the firelight that had made them seem different. There was thunderous applause, and Anthea smiled, offering the harp up to anyone who would take it.

  “That is enough for me,” she laughed. “Someone else must take a turn.”

  A tall, young man took the harp. As he began singing, Anthea turned to Elerian and said quietly, “Let us go for a walk.”

  Many inquisitive eyes followed them, but Anthea ignored the stares and whispers as she walked through the circle with Elerian following close behind. Next to the fire, Orianus watched them go with a troubled look on his face.

  After walking past the tents which had been set up to provide sleeping quarters for the company, Anthea walked out onto the darkened plains, out of earshot of those gathered around the fire. Overhead, the sky was black, sprinkled with thousands of bright pinpoints of light. A soft wind blew over the plains. Nearby, the horse herd and a few oxen grazed under the watchful eyes of mounted sentries. With their night wise eyes, Elerian and Anthea could clearly see the individual horses, and the guards who were watching the herd.

  “Tomorrow we must part,” said Anthea sadly. “My father will venture only a little farther to the north because of the dragon. The scouts reported only this morning that it has been seen flying as far south as the Tanicus.”