by A. Giannetti
“Leave the dragon alone for now and bring me the ring,” said Elerian with a smile. He still looked pale, but Ascilius was satisfied that his companion had taken no harm from his ring making.
“I will return in a moment,” he said before walking back down the stairs.
Approaching the forge, Ascilius stared thoughtfully for a long moment at the lustrous silver ring lying on the blackened stone at the bottom of the forge. He made no move to touch it.
“Dare I give it to him?” he asked himself softly. “In time, this thing might make him like the Dark King himself.”
For a long moment, Ascilius stood still as stone. Then, slowly, he took the ring between the thumb and first finger of his right hand. It felt wondrously smooth against his rough fingers, possessed of an unexpected weight. A sudden desire welled up in Ascilius’s breast to keep this beautiful creation for himself.
“What wonderful things might I make with the power of this ring to aid me?” he thought to himself.
With a great effort, Ascilius pushed the thought away. “For good or ill, it is Elerian’s to use as he sees fit,” he thought to himself resolutely. Walking quickly, the ring held gingerly in his fingers as if it was still hot, Ascilius returned to the bedroom upstairs.
Elerian was now sitting up in the bed. Ascilius walked over to the bedside and dropped the ring quickly onto the palm of his lean right hand, as if he could not be rid of it quickly enough. Taking the ring between the thumb and index finger of his right hand, Elerian examined it carefully. It was a perfect circle, rounded and full, without marks or design of any kind, plain but surpassingly beautiful. Except for its weight, it was not that much different from his invisibility ring.
“I hope that I have wrought well,” thought Elerian to himself as he slipped the ring onto the third finger of his right hand. No coward, he knew that he would not dare a second attempt if there was a flaw in this ring, for he and Ascilius had both been brushed by death’s dark shadow down in the forge room. They might not be so fortunate during a second attempt.
Heavy and cool, the ring shrank at once around Elerian’s finger, gripping it snugly. He still had no idea whether it would work as he had planned, so he tried feeding a little of his own power into it. As he watched with his magical eye, the ring, which appeared dead black when seen with his third eye, immediately absorbed the thin thread of golden energy he directed at it from his left hand. A band of swirling golden energy, very like the shade of a living creature, appeared around Elerian’s finger, stored inside the ring and ready to flow back out at his command.
“It seems to work as I planned, but it will be of little use unless I can fill it somehow,” thought Elerian to himself. “Ascilius was right to point that out as a flaw in my design.” Closing his magical eye, he looked up and saw that the Dwarf was watching him with an expression that was at once worried and guilty.
“You felt the pull of the ring when you handled it,” Elerian said shrewdly.
Ascilius flushed red. “I am ashamed that the thought of keeping it even crossed my mind.”
“Do not blame yourself,” said Elerian. “It has a strange allure despite its simplicity.”
“I would not touch it again now that you have awakened it,” said Ascilius firmly.
“It seems almost alive,” said Elerian softly as he regarded the ring on his finger with his clear-eyed gaze. “Out of all the magical objects that I have seen, this ring, alone, seems to possess a shade, like living creature.”
“I would not trust it,” said Ascilius, giving the ring a dark look. He was about to say more but held his tongue when Elerian lay back down and closed his eyes. A moment later, his deep, regular breathing told Ascilius that he had fallen asleep.
When Elerian awoke sometime later, he sat up in his bed and saw that he was alone. Rising lithely to his feet, he walked lightly into the sitting room where Tonare was sleeping by the fireplace. The dentire had avoided the lower apartment since the first day, distancing himself from the smells and noises associated with fires and metalworking.
“Ascilius is downstairs,” said the dentire when he saw Elerian. “He is packing.”
“Then I will pack, too, replied Elerian, picking up his knapsack, and stuffing his cloak into it. Despite careful rationing, all the food it had contained was gone, even the last few biscuits. When he descended the stairs with Tonare at his heels, he found Ascilius in his hidden room, a small mage light suspended above his head to give him light.
“We are done here,” said Ascilius when he became aware of Elerian standing behind him. “It is time to move on, for our food is gone.”
“I am packed and ready to leave this instant,” replied Elerian, showing Ascilius his knapsack.
“I will be ready soon,” said the Dwarf. He had already placed his tools and his scrolls into a leather backpack that he had taken from one of the chests in his hidden room, but there were still a number of bundles wrapped in dark, oiled linen laid out on the floor around his feet.
Taking the wrappings off one package, Ascilius exposed a long sleeved shirt made of small, interlocking steel rings that rippled like water in bright sunlight in the rays of his mage light. From another set of wrappings, he took a supple brown leather shirt, quilted and thick from the padding between the stitches, to go under the mail. The shirt was followed by a round helm with a leather strap. Next, Ascilius unpacked a small steel crossbow and a quiver full of steel darts. Last of all he took out a small round shield. When he pulled off its leather cover, it was mirror bright underneath, the raised figures of a war hammer with a crown above it worked into its center.
“These will do for me,” said Ascilius to Elerian. “Let me see what I can do for you now.”
From a second large chest against the wall, he took another round shield, slightly larger than the first, with a running horse worked on the front. The shield was followed by a short, recurved bow of laminated wood and horn. A leather quiver full of black feathered arrows went with the bow. Finally, Ascilius pulled out another mail shirt and a leather undershirt that appeared to be a good fit for Elerian. Last of all he took out another round steel cap with a nosepiece that was a twin to his own.
“These things were made at the order of a Tarsi knight and never delivered,” said Ascilius to Elerian. “He was more slender than many of his countrymen, so they should fit you well enough.”
After handing Elerian the war gear, Ascilius pulled a scabbard for Acris and two smaller sheaths for the knives Elerian had made from another of his chests. Then, from yet another trunk, he took an odd looking mail shirt with four short sleeves, a thick leather collar studded with sharp spikes the length of Elerian’s long fingers, and a small steel cap.
“You will be armored as well,” said Ascilius to Tonare as he fit the mail shirt on the dentire, leaving only his legs and head exposed. Ascilius then strapped the collar around the dentire’s neck and fastened the steel cap over his broad head.
When Elerian put on his new gear, he found that the soft leather undershirt shirt fit like a glove and that his mail shirt slid on easily over it. His cap was also a good fit. The bow and quiver, he fastened to his pack and slung over his back, along with Acris. His knives he fastened to the leather belt around his waist. His shield went on his left arm.
Ascilius arrayed himself in a similar fashion, except that he held Fulmen in his right hand and had the leather pack holding his precious tools and scrolls draped over his right shoulder along with his empty knapsack.
“We are all properly equipped now,” he said to Elerian in a satisfied voice. “With our new gear, we are now three of the most dangerous creatures to walk the face of The Middle Realm,” he said grimly. “Let our enemies beware.”
After a last look around, Ascilius led the way out of his secret room. The door swung silently shut behind the three companions, its outline vanishing so that there was no clue left behind to give away its existence. For a moment, Ascilius stood lost in thought in front of the closed do
or.
“I wish we dared return to the second level to search for more supplies,” he said finally to Elerian, “but the risk of running into the smaller dragons is too great.”
“I am surprised we have not been attacked already with all the noise we have been making over the last two weeks,” observed Elerian.
“The walls of my shop are thick are thick enough to have muffled most of the noise we made,” replied Ascilius. “Besides, it would take a small army of dragons to patrol every passageway in the city. More than likely, they are watching the main ramp again, expecting us to pass that way eventually. The front gate to the city is also certain to be guarded.”
“How will we reach the castella, then?” asked Elerian.
“There is tunnel leading out of the city by the back gates. We can use it to reach the castella if Eboria has not yet discovered and blocked it up,” replied the Dwarf. Ascilius paused a moment before going on. “Before we attempt to reach this exit, Elerian, let me explain something about the nature of dragon fire which may be of use to you. It is said in our histories that, if one is skilled in magic, there is an instant when the flames emerge from a dragon’s mouth where one can seize control of them and render them harmless. A dragon may then be defeated by strength of arms.”
“Has anyone ever put this method to the test?” asked Elerian, a note of doubt in his voice.
“Once, long ago, King Durus was said to have defeated the dragon fire of Nigrum the black when the dragon attacked the city of Narses,” replied Ascilius.
“I thought that city was still in the possession of the dragon,” said Elerian in a puzzled voice.
“Alas, Durus defeated Nigrum’s flames but fell victim to his claws,” said Ascilius sadly. “Even without its fire, a dragon is still a deadly opponent. We may fare better, however, for there are three of us and we have better weapons.”
“Hopefully, this is one legend we will not have to put to the test,” said Elerian as he followed Ascilius and Tonare to the back door of the forge room.
Ascilius stopped before the door, turning to face Elerian. “If I knew another way out of the city, I would take it now no matter how dangerous it might be, for the path we will take now will lead us through the hall that lies before the back gate. I fear that Eboria may have made her lair in that hall, for no other place in the city would suit her as well. If she is there sleeping on her golden bed, I cannot think how we will get by her without waking her. Once she is roused from her slumber, there will be no escaping her notice even if you use your ring to make us invisible Elerian, for she can see us with her third eye.”
“Perhaps we will find that she is out hunting or that she has chosen some other place for her bedroom,” suggested Elerian. “Let us at least go and have a look. I think the time has come to leave Ennodius even if we must fight our way out.”
“Capricious he may be, but he has the courage of a lion,” thought Ascilius approvingly to himself at Elerian’s words.
“What about you Tonare,” he asked, turning to the dentire. “Are you willing to risk your life by following us through Eboria’s lair?”
“I will follow you,” replied Tonare in his rough voice, his little eyes glittering fiercely. “What better way to die than fighting the creature that brought about the death of my master.”
“Follow me then,” said Ascilius to Tonare and Elerian, filled with gladness that he had two such stalwart companions at his back. After removing the closing spells from the back door of the workshop, Ascilius first lifted and then set aside the heavy crossbar. Calling Tonare to his side, he cautiously opened the door.
“Is there any danger about Tonare?” he asked the dentire softly.
The great, striped dog stepped out into the dark tunnel at once, putting his nose into the still air.
“There is no danger near us,” he replied after a moment in his rough voice.
Satisfied that the way was clear, Ascilius and Elerian also left the workshop. His way illuminated by the faint golden rays of his tiny mage light, Ascilius set off down the tunnel with Elerian and Tonare following close behind him.
“It seems hard to believe that I have spun my hourglass eight times since entering Ascilius’s forge room,” thought Elerian to himself as he walked quiet as a shadow to Ascilius’s right. “I wonder how Anthea has fared over the last week. I expected her to come to me at least once, but perhaps she has finally become immersed in the pleasures of her father’s court. I am sure that by now the young lords of Tarsius have been drawn to her side like bees to a fragrant flower. Still, it might be better so,” he thought glumly to himself as that bleak, alien land revealed to him by his far seeing orb suddenly rose from his memory to trouble his mind. “It does not seem likely that my path will lead me back to Tarsius regardless of how my adventure with Ascilius ends.”
ANTHEA
As Elerian and his two companions cautiously made their way through the dark tunnels of Ennodius, Anthea, dressed all in white, greeted the sunrise from a terrace high in the white tower where she had her spacious, airy chambers in far off Niveaus. Her calm demeanor and cool blue eyes gave no hint of the impatience which burned inside her, an impatience fueled by an inability to return to Elerian’s side since she had distracted the dragons in Ennodius.
“It is becoming plain to me that my use of the beech leaf takes a toll of my strength,” she thought to herself as her eyes took in the valley before her, slowly shedding the dark mantle of night as the rays of the morning sun crept across it from the east. Anthea found that she could easily see as far as the outer wall now, another of the small changes that seemed to occur in her daily.
“After I appeared to Elerian the first time, I was not able to use the talisman for over a week,” she reminded herself, continuing the thought interrupted by the golden sunrise. “Soon, I should be able to use it again according to the pattern that has begun to emerge, for it has been ten days since I reached his side in Ennodius. Already, I have begun leaving my body again.”
Anthea cast her mind back to the restless night she had just passed. Lying sleepless in her bedchamber, the silver beech leaf blazing like a small star around her fair white neck, she had taken the form of a wraith, a fine thread of golden light tethering her shade to her corporeal form, feeding power into her insubstantial form. She had followed the golden thread leading from her ruby ring as far as the miniscule portal through which it disappeared, but she had not been able to summon the power to pass through the portal itself.
“Soon, soon,” she had reassured herself, harkening back to the time she had reached Elerian in Ennodius. On that night too, she had left her body, staring pensively at the slender golden thread that stretched from her ruby ring toward the west, disappearing after a short distance into a tiny circle of golden light. That thread, she knew from her adventure in Dymiter’s ruined dwelling, led to Elerian’s ring, but it had rebuffed every effort she made to pass through it a second time. Then, a feeling had come over her that she was needed, intensifying and gaining strength until she was suddenly able to command the powers of the beech leaf that she wore.
Eagerly, she had entered the slender, glowing thread emerging from her ring, her shade elongating and changing shape as it followed that golden path through the tiny portal, emerging at last behind Elerian and Ascilius. It had been great fun to see those two brave warriors start like young boys caught in mischief at the sound of her voice and even greater fun to lead the dragons away from them. Her annoyance and disappointment had been extreme when she had suddenly found herself back in her bedroom after leading away the second dragon.
“I wish that we could have talked,” she thought to herself forlornly, wondering how Elerian had fared in the meantime. Her ring told her that he was alive, but in her flight from the dragons, Anthea had perceived, even through the limited senses of a wraith, that the city was a dead place, empty of life.
“I think that Elerian will find no treasure there and perhaps no survivors either,” she thou
ght sadly to herself. “If I find that he has not met with success in his quest, then I will embark on my plan to travel to his side through the northern pass near the gates of Iulius, for I will not remain in Tarsius alone if there is no hope that he will return to my side.”
Deeming it prudent to be prepared for any eventuality, she had already made her arrangements, hiding all the things she would need to take with her in a remote hunting lodge that her father maintained in the foothills north of the city. Near the lodge, there was a pass north through the mountains. It was guarded by a small fortress, making the way out difficult but not impossible, for in the heights to the west of the fortress, she had long ago discovered a game trail that could be negotiated by a surefooted horse.
“I can cast an illusion spell to hide myself from the sentries while I travel over the game trail,” she had thought to herself.
Once she reached the open plains, Anthea knew that no one would be able to catch her even if she was pursued, for she planned to take three horses with her, all neat-footed mares with good endurance. Switching from one to the other, free from the human need to sleep, she could ride continuously for days if need be, stopping only to let the horses drink and graze.
Filled with restless energy, Anthea abandoned her high lookout to take a light breakfast. After her brief meal, she changed her clothes before riding out of the city on her mare, Portia, followed by a small company of guards, for Orianus was mindful of the fact that Torquatus’s traitor had yet to be unearthed. At the gates, she was joined by a group of knights ranging from young men her own age to well seasoned warriors with gray in their long black hair. Knowing her habit of riding Portia each morning, these uninvited admirers waited for her each day by the gate, each making some excuse to accompany her.
“They pursue me as closely as a pack of hounds running a stag,” thought Anthea impatiently to herself as her unsolicited entourage fell in beside her. Although she secretly considered them a nuisance, she spoke kindly to her suitors, both to please her father and because her former sharpness had become muted, for she could look to the future with hope now, eagerly awaiting the day when she and Elerian would be together again.