by A. Giannetti
Ennodius
Book Four
of
The Hidden Realm
by
A. Giannetti
Ennodius
Copyright © 2013 A. Giannetti
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or retransmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the author.
Prologue
Ennodius has a great deal to do with Dwarves, their secret cities, and, of course, dragons. Ascilius’s plan to rescue his people and his treasure meets with unexpected problems, putting his life and Elerian’s in the gravest danger as they struggle to outwit the dragon that has made Ennodius its own.
Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Prologue
Map
Chapters
A Contentious Start
A Somber Return
The Goblin King
A New Threat
The Pool
The Kill
A Risky Undertaking
The Portal
The Dolmen
The Catalus
Goblins by Night
The Septilire
The Pursuit
A Prank
The Dragon
A New Spell
The Wayfarer's Inn
Rain and Waiting
The Wraith
Ennodius
A Troubling Conversation
A Mystery
The Ramp
Eboria’s Secret
The Dentire
The Fourth Level
A Close Call
The Spadix
The Forge
Weapons and Spells
The Ring
Anthea
A Dangerous Encounter
Eboria’s Lair
The Castella
The Council
The Orb
The Hidden Road
A CONTENTIOUS START
The early summer sun beat down on Elerian and Ascilius as they rode side by side under a cloudless blue sky across the Tarsian plains. A light north wind blew relentlessly against their faces, tugging at their hair and clothes like invisible fingers. All around them, thick, knee-high turf billowed like a green ocean under the influence of the wind.
On Ascilius’s left, Elerian rode without saddle or bridle, as if he was a part of the graceful gray stallion beneath him. His fair, elven features were disguised by the illusion spell which had become habitual with him, giving him the appearance of a middle-aged man whose thick, shoulder length black hair was tied behind his head with a leather thong. His lean face appeared lined and gaunt, as if he had led a hard life, full of trials and tribulations.
Despite the warmth generated by the strong sunlight, Elerian wore a tunic of stiff brown leather, reinforced with rows of small, round steel plates darkened to a black hue in the forge, to protect his upper body. Soft brown leather pants and leather boots reaching to mid calf covered his lower body. A long knife hung from his belt, and a sword hung down from his right shoulder over the middle of his back, along with a brown leather pack. Tied to the pack was a bow in a stiff leather case and a quiver full of gray-feathered arrows.
Although he and Ascilius were still two days travel from the lands which the dragon had claimed for its hunting grounds, Elerian’s clear gray eyes constantly scanned the surrounding plains and the sky overhead as he rode, searching for any signs of danger.
To Elerian's right, Ascilius rode on a small black mare that was suited to his short stature. He was dressed in the same manner as Elerian, but he wore his thick brown hair, streaked with early gray from the time he had spent in the Goblins’ mines, loose. His long, flowing beard, which reached to his broad leather belt, was also speckled with gray. A round steel cap, also blackened in the forge, was fastened with a leather strap under his chin, protecting his head. The ax he had obtained in the Broken Lands was thrust through his wide belt, its bright head masked by a stiff brown leather cover. Instead of a sword, he carried a round shield, also darkened so as not to reflect the sun, on his back. A bulging brown leather knapsack was strapped behind him, for unlike Elerian’s gray stallion, his mare wore a saddle. Two small leather bags that jingled pleasantly whenever they bounced against the saddle were fastened next to the knapsack. The sacks contained all of the gold and silver coins that Ascilius had won for himself and Elerian in Tarsius through a series of shrewd bets. Every now and then, the Dwarf reached back with a powerful left hand, absently caressing the sacks, an action from which he seemed to derive a great deal of satisfaction.
Ascilius sat his small mare in an awkward, uneasy manner, with a tight grip on the reins and his feet thrust stiffly into the shortened stirrups of his saddle. He felt as out of place as he looked, for like all Dwarves, he hated to ride on horseback. Only necessity had forced him into the saddle, for anyone on foot on the Tarsian plains was in constant danger from the formidable predators that roamed the open grasslands.
After saying farewell to Orianus and his daughter, Ascilius and Elerian had ridden north all through the morning and afternoon. The effortless strides of their horses had already carried them out of sight of the Nordaels and their thick forests of chestnut, ash, and oak. Elerian had watched those forests dwindle into the distance behind them with regret. Already, he missed being surrounded by the thick boles of ancient trees. Without Anthea by his side, the gently rolling Tarsian plains, which reached as far as his eye could see all around him, seemed a featureless, lonely place. He felt dangerously exposed without thick branches and green leaves forming a dense, protective canopy overhead, and the restless, unrelenting wind that tugged persistently at his face and hair, barely noticed when Anthea had ridden beside him, was now a source of constant annoyance.
“I should have borrowed a wagon from Orianus,” grumbled Ascilius. “There was never a Dwarf born yet that was made to ride on horseback. Our legs are too short for such work.”
“A wagon would be too slow and noticeable Ascilius,” said Elerian patiently, for the Dwarf had voiced this same complaint several times already.
Rather than argue, as he normally would have, Ascilius lapsed back into a gloomy silence, his downcast, dark eyes giving no clue to his inner thoughts.
“What has come over him?” wondered Elerian to himself. When Ascilius had discussed this adventure with Orianus, he had seemed both determined and confident to Elerian. With each step the horses had taken north after leaving the Tarsi behind, however, the confidence the Dwarf had displayed in the Orianus’s war camp seemed to have evaporated a bit more. Instead, he had sunk deeper into a melancholy mood from which he refused to be roused.
“Are all Dwarves prone to such changes in humor?” wondered Elerian to himself with a sidelong look at his morose companion.
Someone more familiar with Dwarves than Elerian would have answered his question in the affirmative, for Dwarves have a somber side to their natures which is never far below the surface, even during their happiest moments. At the least provocation, the serious side of their character becomes dominate, causing them to present sober, impassive faces to the world utterly lacking in cheerfulness or good humor. Ascilius was not as subject to these dark moods as others of his race were, but now, as he and Elerian finally approached the city of his birth, his conscience had begun to weigh heavily on him, affecting his mood and giving his rough-hewn features a downcast look.
In Orianus’s war camp, far from the haunts of the dragon, it had not seemed such a bad idea to let Elerian accompany him on this adventure. Now, as the possibility of encountering the dragon grew more real and imminent, Ascilius was having second thoughts. He stole a tro
ubled glance out of the corners of his dark eyes at his companion, who rode effortlessly to his left with his keen glance alertly searching around them for danger.
“It is more than likely that I am leading him to an early, painful death,” he thought uncomfortably to himself. “It was selfish of me to let him accompany me, even though I have no chance of reaching Ennodius without him.”
Spreading like a dark infection through the air between them, Ascilius’s grim mood began to affect Elerian, subverting his normally cheerful nature. He had begun this adventure hoping that after a few weeks he might return to Tarsius laden with treasure which would enable him to wed Anthea, but now, observing Ascilius’s grim face and mood, he began to wonder if his hopes were unrealistic. He had overcome many dangers in his lifetime, but he had never dealt with a full-grown dragon. Growing up, he had listened to many tales about dragons, but he had no idea what actual powers they possessed or even how large they grew.
“Perhaps I have underestimated the danger posed by the creature which has invaded Ennodius,” thought Elerian uneasily to himself. “Ascilius now seems of one mind with Orianus, harboring the same doubts about the success of our adventure.” Wondering if he would ever see Anthea again, he, too, became pensive. Anthea’s reserved mood at their parting now took on an added significance in his mind.
“Perhaps she was already preparing herself for the worst, taking heed of her father’s advice,” thought Elerian glumly to himself. “Orianus certainly made it plain to everyone that he does not expect Ascilius and me to survive this adventure. Surrounded by the distractions of her father’s court and the attention of his brave courtiers, will she forget me, I wonder? Already, the last few days seem like a dream to me. Almost, I wish now that I had allowed her to accompany me.”
“In that case, you would be a fugitive now,” he reminded himself. “Orianus would never have agreed to let Anthea ride off with you and rightly so. It is far safer for her to remain among her own people until you return.”
“If I return,” thought Elerian to himself with uncharacteristic gloom.
His gaze was drawn irresistibly to his left hand. Ending the illusion which disguised the silver ring on his smallest finger, he stared thoughtfully at the warm crimson light that pulsed in a steady rhythm, like a heartbeat, deep within the faceted ruby mounted on the gleaming silver band. A deep sadness that he had never expected to feel stabbed through him, for each smooth stride that Enias took was carrying him farther from Anthea, his first true love.
“How unfair life is,” he thought to himself. “I would have been content to remain by her side for the rest of my life, forgoing any further attempts to discover my past. Instead, I am compelled to ride off and leave her behind. If this adventure fails, all sight of her, no matter how distant, will be denied to me even if I do not lose my life. Unless I return with a substantial treasure, her father will never consent for us to be together, nor will he allow me to set foot in his kingdom again.”
“Take a safer course then,” whispered a persuasive voice in the back of his mind. “Return to the galley that you discovered in the Ancharus. There is more than enough treasure there to meet your needs. You bested the water dragon once. You can do it again.”
Elerian glanced guiltily at Ascilius. The Dwarf still rode with his head down, paying little attention to what went on around him.
“He is a surly, unappreciative companion,” continued the voice. “Leave him to his own devices and go your own way. From his mood, it is obvious that he misled you about the dangers you will face on this mad adventure.”
“The right road is seldom the easy road,” Elerian reminded himself, firmly silencing that troubling voice. “Difficult though he may be at times, I cannot abandon a true friend like Ascilius, even if it means the loss of Anthea or even my own life. It must be this dark mood which has led my mind down paths it would not normally tread.”
Clearing his mind of doubts, Elerian focused instead on the countryside around him. During his moments of inattention, Enias had crested a low, rolling hill. A wide, shallow valley running northwest to southwest now presented itself to Elerian’s eyes. Shaded by willows and alders, a small, clear stream flowed unhurriedly down its center. Scattered herds of wild oxen grazed on either side of the stream, the sun glinting off their curving white horns and sleek brown coats. Mixed in among the cattle were smaller herds of red deer, the stags carrying tall antlers covered in the soft velvet of summer. A large pack of gray wolves shadowed the edges of the herds looking for their next victim. They regarded the two companions with cold yellow eyes, but they did not turn aside from their hunting.
As Elerian and Ascilius rode across the valley, the great herd bulls raised their heads, bellowing and pawing the ground, their great cloven hooves throwing clods of turf into the air as they kept a wary eye on the two strangers passing through their midst. When the two companions rode across the shallow stream, Elerian saw a small pride of enormous tawny lions dozing in the shade of the trees several hundred feet to his left. The huge beasts lifted their great heads in sudden interest, regarding him and Ascilius with hungry green eyes. Ascilius glared right back at the hungry hunters. In the mood he was in, he would have welcomed a fight, but the truth was they were in little danger as long as they were mounted on horses. The lions were too wise to chase such swift prey.
“How did you avoid beasts such as those on your trading expeditions?” asked Elerian curiously.
“They tend to stay in the thickets by the streams during the day, sleeping in the shade,” replied Ascilius, momentarily rousing himself from his dark mood. “At night, when they emerged to hunt, we would circle our wagons and post guards. Everyone slept with their weapons, and we kept torches ready, for lions do not care for fire. We also had our dogs with us to give us warning and to keep the beasts at a distance.”
“What kind of dog would frighten a lion?” asked Elerian in disbelief.
“Have you never heard of our dentire?” asked Ascilius in surprise.
“Never,” said Elerian. “I have not heard mention of the breed before.”
“If fortune favors us, I will show you one someday,” replied Ascilius. “They are found only among the Dwarves, serving as our companions and guardians.”
At that moment, with a thunder of wings, a flock of tan, black barred gallinae burst out of the tall grass in front of the horses. Enias did not flinch at the noise and sudden appearance of the grass hens, but the black mare tossed her head and shied sideways to her right, lifting her trim hooves high into the air. Poor rider that he was, Ascilius had all he could do to keep his seat as he desperately clutched her light saddle with both hands. Beneath the trees, several of the lions sprang lithely to their feet, watching with keen interest to see if Ascilius fell off his mount.
“I believe she did that did that on purpose,” grumbled the Dwarf to Elerian when he had regained his balance
“There may be some truth to that,” thought Elerian to himself, for there did seem to be a glint of amusement in the mare's large brown eyes.
“She knows that you do not approve of her,” he said with a smile, his sunny nature reasserting itself in response to the mare’s antics. “It is her way of reminding you that you would do well to stay in her good graces, but I do not believe that she would actually let you fall.”
“I would as soon not put it to the test,” said Ascilius, whose bellicose mood appeared to have passed. He cast a nervous glance at the lions, all of which were now on their feet. They were staring hungrily at the Dwarf, the intense, focused look in their green eyes signaling their willingness to attack if the least opportunity presented itself.
“They seem quite anxious to try a taste of Dwarf,” observed Elerian cheerfully.
“They will have to wait for some other day then,” said Ascilius crossly as he encouraged his mare to seek safer surroundings with a twitch of his reins. He relapsed into his former silence, riding with his head down, a gloomy expression on his face.
Since Ascilius seemed determined to ignore his surroundings, Elerian resumed his careful observation of open pastures around them. An hour's ride north of the valley, Enias suddenly pricked up his ears, and Ascilius’s mare tossed her head, whickering softly. In the distance, off to his left, Elerian’s farsighted eyes picked out the tiny figures of a small band of running horses, the bright sun shining on their sleek, pale gray coats. They were running easily but with great speed, reminding Elerian of a flock of seabirds as they wheeled toward him and Enias, skimming lightly over a sea of undulating grass.
“It passes understanding how the Tarsi can fail to appreciate the beauty and strength inherent in these Merghi,” observed Elerian to Ascilius.
The Dwarf looked up and saw the approaching herd.
“Each race sees the world through different eyes, valuing different qualities,” he replied tonelessly. “During the reign of the last Ancharian king, Dwarves were exhibited in cages, tormented by mobs which regarded them as misshapen aberrations of nature worthy only of their scorn and ridicule.”
“I had not heard that before,” said Elerian, feeling both sad and repulsed. “In Hesperia, Dwarves are held in high esteem.”
He fell silent then, for the Merghi were now only a few hundred yards away.
“It is unheard of to see Merghi this close,” said Ascilius in a surprised voice.
“No doubt they recognize Enias as one of their own,” replied Elerian as the gray horses slowed and stopped, excitedly tossing their silky manes and stamping their long, slender legs as they examined the two companions and their mounts with curious amethyst eyes.