The young Telian managed to keep his head, and his balance, as the horse fell. His feet reached the firm bottom of the ford as his enemy fell upon him, raining attacks on him like a hammer on an anvil. Although it seemed as if the warrior was more than a match for Darian, the young knight's assistance did reduce the number of enemies his master was facing to two. This was a very advantageous change in the odds for the old knight.
Lord Andor blocked several blows from the giant warlord, falling back before his thunderous attacks and waiting for an opportunity. This arrived in the form of the mercenary lord's companion tripping slightly on some unseen obstruction under the water. It was the opening the old man had waited for. In an instant, he had stepped forward, thrust his spear through the chest of his off-balance foe, and renewed his attacks against his last remaining adversary.
Although the warlord had little choice but to fall back before the aged Telian's renewed attacks, his allies rallied to him, hoping to help him drive the old knight back by sheer force of numbers. Darian's own opponent seemed to be both stronger and more skilled than the young knight. He had no choice but to give ground as more of the mercenaries made their way in his direction. The defenders had fought well, but it seemed to Darian that sheer numbers would overcome them before long.
As his gaze turned to the fresh enemies that were just moving their horses into the water, a ball of fire flew above him, headed toward the enemy’s ranks. It exploded with devastating effects. Once again, the battlefield was littered with the smoldering bodies of their fallen foes. The young knight glanced over his shoulder to see Sarena standing at Gwendolyn's side, a force of elvish archers led by Tealor quickly marching past them toward the main battle line. Moments later, the enemy sounded retreat.
The warlord and his mercenaries, as well as the Mikralian soldiers, instantly obeyed this summons. There was little point in losing more men to these reinforcements – and well they knew it. For the moment, the defenders had held the fords. This was a situation they would change shortly, however.
“We need to retreat,” was the first thing Kilren said as soon as the party had regrouped for another council of war.
Both the defenders and attackers had fallen back from the line of battle in order to attend to their wounded, plan their next course of action, and rest.
“What?” the young Telian asked, a stunned look on his face. “We have to hold the fords.”
“No, Sir Darian,” Tealor replied, shaking his head. “You had to try to hold the fords. You did well, but we have to retreat.”
“You just brought us reinforcements,” the knight pointed out. “Which is something we greatly appreciate, by the way.”
“We were happy to, my bold Telian,” Sarena said with a smile. “My love and I have to be careful with our lives, but that doesn't mean leaving our friends to die.”
“Well, you certainly didn't do that,” Kilren chuckled. “I'm sure you just saved our lives.”
“Which is a good reason not to throw them away,” Tealor said. “We brought fewer reinforcements than you lost in the skirmish. I sincerely doubt we'll receive any more relief for the next ten or twelve hours, at least. That's almost certainly not true of our enemies.”
“Not to mention the fact that Valrak himself is here,” Kilren pointed out. “At least, I think I saw him.”
“You did, lad,” Ian nodded. “He was the monster who couldn't quite handle Lord Andor.”
“You flatter me, Master McFaren,” the old man replied with a wide smile.
“No, I don't,” the bard chuckled.
“Valrak being here is another reason for us to retreat, my lord,” Tealor said. “You held the fords for as long as you could. There are more defensible places in Innalas. We need to reach one of them as quickly as we can.”
“I agree,” Lord Andor nodded. “We slowed them down. For the moment, that's all we can do. Organize our forces. I want our withdrawal to be as orderly as possible.”
“At once, my lord,” Tealor nodded. “Lieutenant, come with me.”
Risks had to be taken. That was simply the nature of life. It was also true that the greatest prizes could often only be won by taking the greatest risks. If there was one thing Galrin despised, however, it was taking chances that didn't need to be taken. Had his foster son been present, there was a good chance the ancient wizard would have said more on this subject than was necessarily wise.
With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the image from the surface of the water before making his way slowly to a nearby chair. He rubbed his hand across his chin and took a deep breath as he considered the events he had just witnessed.
She could have been killed. That fact was undeniable. One well cast spell, a single stray arrow, or even some run away horse could have brought her life to an end. Had that happened, all the plans he had spent a lifetime forming might have been dashed forever.
In spite of this fact, his son – the boy he had taken as an infant and raised as his own – had not only allowed the battle to take place, he had actually encouraged it. Galrin had seen it happen with his own eyes, heard it with his own ears. Why? What possible advantage could be gained by forcing her into such a chaotic fray? Had Lord Valrak decided that the plan was too complex and that it would be more expedient simply to throw her over his saddle and ride off with her?
No. No, that certainly was not the case. Had his son believed such to be the best course of action, he wouldn't have hesitated to voice that opinion. Lord Valrak feared no one, not even a man with such incredible power as his foster father. No, this was simply him doing things his way. In truth, anyone with less spirit could never rule Areon. Galrin had chosen the perfect tool for his ambitions. He would have to do his best to be patient as it did its work.
Chapter 7: Retreat
“Thank you for saving my life,” Gwendolyn said suddenly, turning her gaze to Gregor as the party rode along together at the back of the retreating column.
Darian and his companions, along with Jalek, Gregor, Tealor, and Sarena were all mounted, having taken charge of a number of the horses they had captured from their enemies. Lord Andor had asked them to act as the rear guard of the group, although the odds were slim that the forces of Mikral would risk moving beyond the fords until more of their forces had arrived.
The band was slowly heading to the north-east, making their way toward the encampment where Tealor and Sarena had left the refugees from Andor's Fortress. The captain felt that, as King Palnar would almost certainly move his forces directly against the city of Talsier, the safest course of action would be to lead their small caravan away from the main road that connected the fords to the elvish capital. As the journey would take the remainder of the day, they had quite a bit of time for conversation.
“You're more than welcome, Lady Gwendolyn,” the young lord smiled. “Although, I'm not sure that I did.”
“Well, you did,” she smiled.
“Did he?” Darian asked with a surprised tone.
“He did,” the maiden assured the knight. “In fact, he almost got himself killed doing it.”
“How?”
“He dove between me and I don't know how many arrows,” she explained.
“Bolts,” Gregor corrected.
“What difference does that make?” she asked.
“None that I can think of,” the lord admitted, shaking his head.
“Four of them hit him,” Gwendolyn continued. “Two of them right in the chest. It was remarkably brave of you to do that.”
“No, it wasn't,” Gregor replied, his eyes locked on hers. “It was nothing more or less than my duty. Which is why I decided to stand guard over you in the first place. Having given it a few seconds thought, I realized you'd likely be a target for their archers as soon as you started using magic.”
“In that case,” Darian said, gazing at the young lord, “I owe you a sincere apology.”
“For what?”
“For thinking you were afraid,” the Telian explai
ned. “I wasn't sure whether or not you'd ever been in a battle before and I couldn't think of a good reason for you to get so close to Gwendolyn.”
“I've been in many battles,” Gregor replied with a sigh, before shooting the maiden a knowing smile, “and I can think of many good reasons to get close to Lady Gwendolyn.”
Darian's brows involuntarily drew together. He had to admit it, Gregor was a lot better at gallantry than he was. Of course, he himself had often accidentally said gallant things without even knowing it. So, it was entirely possible that Gregor had no idea what he was saying.
“I hope to have many more opportunities of doing so again in the future,” the lord continued.
The knight thought that this statement made it clear that Gregor either knew what he was doing or that he was extremely lucky. The blush that quickly passed over the maiden's features made it seem more likely that the young lord actually understood what he was hinting at. Even if Darian could never tell whether or not he was actually being gallant, Gwendolyn always could. As her reaction wasn't the laughter he was often met with, he had to accept the fact that she knew that he knew exactly what he was saying. That being the case, Darian should probably correct him. And, if he managed to think of anything he was doing that was unquestionably wrong, he certainly would. Until then, he would just have to keep an eye on him.
“Well, I apologize,” the young knight said. “Not only were you extremely courageous, but you managed to save Lady Gwendolyn's life, which leaves me greatly in your debt.”
The smiles with which he was met from both the lord and the maiden made him consider the fact that he had just said something gallant himself. Rolling it over in his mind, however, he couldn't be sure. It would have been better if she had blushed again or something. Either way, all he could do was keep trying. Telian Knights were meant to be more than valiant warriors of righteousness, they were also supposed to be fit company for ladies.
“It leaves us all in his debt,” the bard replied with a smile.
“As I'm in yours, Ian,” Gregor said with a nod. “I don't actually think I was in any danger of dying, not with yourself, two Telian knights, and Lady Gwendolyn on the battlefield, but I was still in a great deal of pain.”
“I wouldn't say that, lad,” the bard replied, shaking his head. “Many of our allies weren't so fortunate as to escape from death.”
“I know,” the lord sighed. “I just meant that my wounds weren't that serious.”
“Yes, they were,” Gwendolyn pointed out, “and I wasn't even able to heal anyone today.”
“You can hardly blame yourself for that,” Erana replied. “You were exhausted.”
“I know,” the maiden nodded, “but it doesn't make me feel much better. If I'd had more strength, more of our allies would have left the field alive.”
“I'm not sure about that,” Kilren replied. “Darian, Lord Andor, and Ian kept everyone who had the slightest spark of life in them from dying. I'm not sure even Lord Andor would have had the strength to pull anyone back from the grave after what he had already done. It will probably be a while before you can wield that level of power.”
“I suppose you're right,” Gwendolyn agreed. “On the other hand, I could have at least healed a few of the animals.”
“I would have liked to have done that myself,” Erana agreed. “I even tried to, but Selvios didn't answer my prayers.”
“He did answer...” Darian began.
“I mean,” she interrupted, “he didn't answer me with a yes.”
“You may not be ready to heal yet,” the Telian replied. “Just be glad Ian was able to heal a few of them with that green stuff he uses.”
“Sallimar,” Ian interjected.
“What?”
“That's what it's called.”
“Well, I'm glad you had it,” Darian replied, patting his mount. “It may have saved this noble creature's life.”
“I'm sure it did,” Erana replied, “but I wish the poor beast hadn't had to go through the agony of being healed by that stuff.”
“He didn't seem to like it much, did he?” Ian mused. “If you hadn't kept him calm, I think he might have trampled me to death.”
“Which brings another point to mind,” Kilren said with a wide smile.
“What's that?” the elvish maiden asked.
“Darian fell off his horse.”
“No, I didn't,” the knight said defensively. “The horse fell from under me.”
“Oh no!” the lieutenant laughed. “When that troll knocked my horse out from under me, you said it counted. That being the case, this clearly counts.”
“He's right, you know,” Gwendolyn replied, shooting a coy smile at the knight.
“It wasn't technically my horse,” the Telian replied.
“Now you're splitting hairs,” Kilren said, laughing again. “Although, I was surprised to find you suddenly mounted in the middle of the battle. Another thing I didn't expect to see was a unicorn flying to our defense. Was it him, do you think?”
“Him?” Gregor asked.
“Darian befriended this unicorn last year,” the lieutenant explained. “He's saved Darian's life since then.”
“It was him,” the knight asserted. “I think he may have saved my life again today.”
“I don't know if I'd go that far,” Gregor replied. “You seemed to be doing pretty well on your own and I was keeping an eye on you. I was about to rush to your aid myself before the unicorn showed up. I only hesitated because I was concerned about Gwendolyn. Still, he was a great help to all of us.”
“He was,” Erana agreed. “He made dealing with Valrak's men in the woods much easier. He was something they certainly hadn't counted on facing.”
“He really needs a better name than him,” Kilren said. “Darian, you need to give him a name.”
“You can't just give him a name,” the elvish maiden pointed out. “He's an intelligent creature and I'm sure he has a name already.”
“Darian,” Kilren said, turning his eyes to his friend, “whinny like a horse.”
The knight did his best which, in truth, wasn't very good.
“Now,” the lieutenant continued, “what are the odds that Darian will be able to pronounce his name?”
“He may not be able to pronounce his real name,” Erana admitted, “but that doesn't mean he should just give him a nickname without asking him.”
“I can see that,” her fiancé ceded. “The next time you see him, Darian, ask him about it.”
“Do you see him often?” Gregor asked.
“Fairly,” the knight replied. “There's a stream near the fortress where I often find him waiting for me or vice versa.”
“Well, next time you see him,” the young lord chuckled, “you can also give him our thanks.”
“I certainly will.”
The conversation continued for several hours as the band passed through the lovely land of Innalas. Each of the party members discussed the battle from their own point of view, Gwendolyn expressing both shock and horror at the idea of having been so near Lord Valrak himself. Ian assured her that, under the circumstances, he would likely to be far too involved in the current conquest to waste much time attempting to pursue her. The fact that the mercenary lord had allowed them to escape without being pursued seemed to attest to this.
“What does Lord Valrak want with you?” Gregor asked, gazing at the fair young maiden.
“He thinks I'm the key to the Gates of Death,” Gwendolyn replied.
“Which is something we don't tell just anyone,” Ian added, glancing up from the pipe he was busy lighting. “The fewer people who know that Valrak seems interested in her, the better.”
“I can understand that,” the young lord nodded. “From what I've heard since I came to Innalas, Lord Valrak is extremely wealthy and politically powerful. I imagine it's not easy to avoid his grasp.”
“Which is why we want as few as possible to know about it,” the dwarf replied.
&n
bsp; “I'll be the soul of discretion,” Gregor assured him. “Although, I don't see how it's our secret to keep. If Valrak wants her, most of the mercenaries in the area must know it already.”
“They don't seem to,” the bard replied. “At least, we haven't heard any rumors about it over the last year.”
“Well, then,” the lord chuckled, “and forgive me if I seem to be making light of this, but isn't it entirely possible that he's not after her at all? He could offer a reward for her that would attract every bounty hunter within a hundred leagues.”
“It appears that he doesn't want anyone to know that he's after her.”
“What? Why not? What could be done to him if everyone knew it?”
“Gwendolyn is officially a citizen of Mikral,” Ian explained. “King Palnar wouldn't just give one of his citizens to Lord Valrak. Even if he secretly knows all about it, that could hardly become public knowledge. If the lords thought that the king might just give their daughters away, they would almost certainly rebel.”
“I suppose I can see that,” Gregor replied. “But even so, the Key to the Gates of Death? Is there even any such thing?”
“Galrin seems to think there is,” Ian replied. “From what I've heard, he's no fool. The Gates of Death themselves are real enough. Or so the legends say.”
“Yes,” the young lord said with a sigh, “I've heard of them myself. Do you think Lady Gwendolyn actually could be the key to them?”
“I have no idea,” Ian replied with a shrug, “but Galrin seems to believe it.”
“You're certain he's after her?”
“Unquestionably.”
“Then, I'm amazed that you've been able to keep her from him,” Gregor said, shaking his head. “They say he's incredibly powerful.”
“So he is,” the bard nodded, “but then, so is Lord Andor.”
“That's certainly true,” Gregor agreed. “This gives me a great deal to think about.”
“It's nothing for you to worry about, lad,” the dwarf smiled. “As long as she's with us, she's safe.”
The Lords of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 3) Page 12