The Lords of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 3)

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  “I thought very much the same thing,” the young lord agreed. “In fact, I had completely given up. That is, until I found out yesterday that Galrin believes Gwendolyn is the key that can open them.”

  “He's wrong.”

  “You can't know that,” Gregor pointed out. “She's the most powerful sorceress of her age that I've ever seen.”

  “Yes, she is,” the knight agreed. “That wouldn't be enough to open the gates, however.”

  “I know,” the lord replied. “They were sealed using divine power as well as arcane. That's easy to overcome, though. You're an extremely powerful Telian Knight.”

  “For my age, I suppose I am,” Darian agreed, “but there have been more powerful Telian than me and more powerful sorceresses than Gwendolyn. If it was as simple as two people working together, someone else would have done it by now.”

  “Why?” Gregor asked. “What would have been the motivation?”

  “Your parents weren't the first people slain with The Blade of Loss,” Darian replied. “I feel certain you're not the first person who's wished they could open the gates. Apparently, Galrin shares the same desire, although I can't imagine why he would.”

  “If he thinks it's possible, you have to accept the idea that it could be,” the young lord insisted. “Isn't Valrak a powerful Telian, as well?”

  “No, he's not,” Darian asserted, “he's a Kalathian, or a Disciple of Kalath.”

  “But he does wield the power of the Eilian?”

  “No,” the knight replied. “He wields the power of Winrall.”

  “Winrall is an Eilian,” Gregor replied with a confused look on his face.

  “Yes, he is,” Darian nodded. “However, unlike the rest of the Eilian, he offers his power to all who can use it, no matter what their motivations are.”

  “What do you mean?” the lord asked, an even more confused look on his face.

  “Winrall is the first and greatest of all the Eilian,” the knight began.

  “That much I know,” Gregor interjected.

  “He, just like the Creator,” Darian continued, “allows us to make our own decisions without direct interference. Even when they're the wrong decisions. Winrall believes that it's the will of the Creator to let us choose our own path, without attempting to force us. Then, when we receive our eternal reward, it will be the reward we truly deserve. Whether its eternal life or complete destruction.”

  “That's... interesting...” the young lord replied slowly.

  “The rest of the Eilian, well, most of them, feel that the power they have been given should only be used in causes they approve of. The Creator also gave them free will, and they will also be judged. Most of them believe that offering us their power only when we're in the right helps guide us, not control us. And I agree with them.”

  “So then,” Gregor said thoughtfully, “Winrall would allow someone to open the doors of Havlas, even if he didn't approve of it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you're sure Valrak wields his power?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could you?”

  At this question, the young knight drew his brows together and almost glared at the young lord.

  “Yes,” he said gruffly, “I could. But I never would. I'm a servant of the Eilian. I wouldn't want them to offer me their power to do something they disapproved of.”

  “Have the Eilian ever been wrong?” Gregor asked. “Have they ever made mistakes?”

  For several seconds, the young knight didn't reply; his features expressing disapproval of the question.

  “Yes,” he said at last. “Far be it from me to judge the gods, but they admit to having made mistakes in the past. That being the case, I can hardly deny it.”

  “Well, then,” the young lord began, “isn't it possible...”

  “Gregor,” Darian interrupted. “I understand... No actually, I don't. I can't. But I'm doing my best to try to understand how you feel. As I said before, however, this task is impossible. If the Eilian wanted the doors of Havlas opened, they would be. Now, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I just remembered that there's something I have to ask Erana about.”

  Having said this, he slowed his mount, allowing the lord and the sorceress to pull ahead of him while the lieutenant and his bride-to-be came up behind him.

  “I hope I didn't make him angry,” Gregor said, glancing back over his shoulder at the knight.

  “I'm sure you didn't,” Gwendolyn replied, shaking her head. “In fact, I think that's almost impossible to do. Unless, of course, you happen to be up to something that the Eilian don't approve of.”

  “Like kidnapping a beautiful young maiden, perhaps?” he asked with a knowing smile.

  “Or anyone at all,” she replied, shooting him a coy glance. “Even then, though, he does his best to be understanding in the hopes of leading the wayward back to righteousness.”

  “I suppose he does,” the young lord chuckled. “After all, it's his duty; he's a Telian. For them, duty has to come before everything else, including their emotions.”

  “That certainly seems to be the case,” she replied with a slight sigh.

  “I can't imagine it myself.”

  “Imagine what?”

  “Suppressing my emotions,” he explained. “When I feel anger, hatred, or a desire for revenge, I can't hold back the flood even if I want to. Most times, I don't. I admit, the Eilian probably don't find that pleasing, and I'm sure Darian wouldn't, but it's the way I am. I can't pretend not to feel what I do simply for the sake of seeming righteous.”

  “It's not a matter of pretense,” Gwendolyn corrected. “It's just very difficult to make Darian angry. He tries to look at everything, not through his own eyes, but through the eyes of the Eilian. It's his goal to save everyone, if at all possible. Even those who are in the wrong. As a result, he rarely feels rage, and he certainly doesn't feel anything like hatred or a desire for revenge.”

  “What about love?” Gregor asked with a mischievous grin. “Have his meditations made him immune to that, as well?”

  “I don't think he's spent much time at all meditating on that yet,” she laughed with the slightest hint of a blush.

  “Well, I certainly have,” the young lord replied. “It's another emotion I can't seem to suppress, no matter how hard I try. Of course, the truth is, I hardly try at all.”

  For almost a minute, the pair rode along in silence before Gregor introduced another subject.

  “Your father, Lord Faelor, is a knight of Solarin?” he asked.

  “He is,” she nodded.

  “But you were raised as a peasant?”

  “Prince Gregor,” the maiden replied, before pausing for a second. “I assume it would be proper to address you as such?”

  “Such is, in fact, the case, my lady,” he smiled.

  “Well, then, Prince Gregor,” she continued, “if I didn't know better, the delicacy of that question would make me assume it had been asked by Sir Darian.”

  “I certainly meant no insult,” he chuckled. “I'll rephrase the question. You were not, I believe, raised amongst the noblesse, my lady?”

  “No, sir, I was not,” she replied, with a slow and regal nod.

  “Well, both your manners and accomplishments would make one assume that you had been.”

  “It's good of you to say so.”

  “How did it feel?” he asked.

  “How did what feel?”

  “Suddenly finding out that your father was a knight,” he explained. “Realizing that you were a lady with a title and lands. Someone of wealth and importance. Rather than just a... an ordinary citizen.”

  “Oh, that,” she laughed. “Well, it didn't really happen that way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I've known my father should have been a knight since I was old enough to talk,” she explained. “So, I always felt that I was meant to be a lady. He was also a very successful merchant up until roughly a year ago. As a result, I enjoyed mo
re wealth and affluence than my father, or even his father, did growing up. Our former lands, and the fortress that stands guard over them, had never given my family the income my father was able to earn on his own.”

  “So then it really wasn't much of a change for you?”

  “I wouldn't say that,” the maiden asserted. “When I was younger, I had very childish notions of what nobility meant. I thought it was nothing more than being addressed as my lady, being even wealthier than I was, and being invited to every dance within a hundred leagues. Now, I realize it's much more about duty. Serving both your liege-lord and your people.”

  “That's certainly true,” Gregor agreed, taking a deep breath. “And that is what I was raised to from my infancy. Doing my duty. The common people believe that the king rules the land, and that's true from a certain point of view. However, he also serves the kingdom. It's his responsibility to ensure that each of his subjects is safe, that each has the opportunity to pursue their own happiness. Even if that means sacrificing his own. At times, I find it hard to see any real advantages in being a noble.”

  “I found one,” Gwendolyn replied with a smile. “Even if it only effects someone in my particular position.”

  “And what is that?”

  “When I was younger,” the maiden said, “I had the girlish idea of marrying a knight or lord in order to regain our family's nobility. Now that I am a lady, I'm completely unfettered. I don't have to try my best to fall in love with a noble. I can marry whomever I want.”

  “Can you?” the young lord asked with a grin.

  “I can,” she replied with a slight blush, “provided, of course, that I can get him to ask me.”

  “I feel certain that you'll find no difficulty in accomplishing that,” Gregor replied, his eyes locked on hers. “However, I really meant to ask if the nobles of Solarin were allowed to marry pea... commoners, without losing their titles.”

  “We are,” she assured him.

  “That's... interesting...” he replied thoughtfully. “Things are very different within the realms of Winkar. Although, occasionally, special permission can be granted for such marriages, it very rarely happens. As a prince of the realm, I would never be allowed to enter into such a union. Which is why, as you can imagine, I was very pleased to discover that you were of noble birth.”

  “So,” Kilren said, turning toward the Telian who had been riding silently at his side for several minutes, “did you just decide you missed my company, or were you wanting to eavesdrop on Erana and me?”

  “What?” Darian asked, his mind returning to the present.

  “I mean,” the lieutenant replied, “are you riding with us for any particular reason? Obviously, you're more than welcome to. It's just that you don't generally ride alongside me in pensive silence.”

  “No, I guess I don't,” the knight said with sigh. “I actually have a question for Erana.”

  “What is it?” the elvish maiden asked with a smile.

  “Can unicorns read and write?”

  “Of course not,” Kilren laughed. “How would they hold a pen?”

  “They could hold it in their mouths,” Darian speculated.

  “Maybe,” the lieutenant ceded, “but I don't see it happening.”

  “Well, I really meant: are they literate?”

  “I believe some of them are,” the ranger replied. “Why do you ask?”

  “I just thought I should ask the unicorn what his name is,” the knight explained. “I thought he might have a regular name as well as a horse name, if you see what I mean. Even if he does, though, he won't be able to tell me what it is. So, I thought I could just go through the alphabet and have him nod when I got to each letter. But then I thought that he might not be able to spell, and that might embarrass him. Obviously, I don't want to do that. That being the case, I figured I’d better ask Erana if unicorns were, in general, literate or not.”

  “You know, Darian, sometimes...” Kilren began, before his thought was interrupted by Ian calling them to join him.

  Moments later, the trio reached the spot where their other companions had brought their mounts to a stop. The band had emerged from a sparsely forested woodland just yards from the edge of a precipice. Nearly thirty feet below them ran the Neres River, enclosed on each side by cliffs of solid stone, flowing wildly over submerged rocks in a torrent of rapids.

  “Even if we could climb down,” Ian began, “which the horses can't, and even if we could all swim, which we can't, I don't think this would be the best place to cross.”

  “Probably not,” Kilren agreed. “That current would beat us to death on the rocks.”

  “Erana, dear,” the dwarf said, turning to her as he spoke, “do you know of any passage to the east?”

  “I don't,” she replied, “but I'm sure we'll be able to find some way across. The headwaters of the Neres are in the mountains. The further east we go, the more likely we'll be to find a place we can ford the river. Although, there's a good chance we'll have to leave the horses behind.”

  “Perhaps I can help us avoid that particular evil,” Jalek said, climbing down from his mount as he spoke. “Although, I admit, I've never attempted anything quite on this scale before.”

  Taking his staff in his hand, the young wizard moved to the edge of the precipice where he began drawing symbols on the grass in glowing green light as he chanted softly and methodically. The river below began to convulse wildly, throwing spray above the cliff walls, as the young man continued weaving his spell. Suddenly, the waters gathered themselves together in the form of a bridge which turned to solid ice the moment it was complete.

  “Let's go,” Jalek said with a smile, climbing back atop his beast.

  “Are you sure it's safe?” Kilren asked, gazing with wonder at the bridge of glistening ice.

  “I believe so,” the wizard nodded, kicking his mount into motion. “But, as I said before, I've never tried it on this scale. Or this high up, come to that.”

  Although the lieutenant didn't find this assertion particularly reassuring, the wizard and his mount making it safety across the chasm gave him the courage to follow their example. There was more than enough room for two to ride side by side but, under the circumstances, they decided to cross one at a time. Even so, in less than two minutes, the entire band had made their way from one side to the other. With a single word, Jalek sent the frozen bridge crashing into the river below.

  “Well,” Kilren said, gazing down at the Neres. “I'm impressed.”

  “Ay, lad,” Ian agreed. “I am, as well.”

  “Step one is complete,” Gregor asserted, “We've made our way into Mikral. Now, all we need to do is reach Rakklin and start a civil war.”

  “Or at least a rebellion,” Jalek replied.

  “Either of which is going to take time,” Kilren added. “So, let's not waste any.”

  “No,” Darian nodded, “let's not.”

  Chapter 9: Rebellion

  “You know,” Kilren began thoughtfully, “I find all of this just a little ironic.”

  “What do you mean?” Darian asked.

  The two companions were riding at the rear of the small column where, for the last few minutes, they had been discussing matters of little to no importance. A short distance ahead of them rode the two fair maidens, while the lord, the wizard, and the bard led the band; each group wrapped in a conversation of its own.

  “I mean,” the lieutenant continued, “the fact that we're trying to stop a war by starting another strikes me as ironic. Somehow inciting civil disobedience doesn't seem like something a Telian Knight would be involved in, much less in charge of.”

  “That's certainly true in most cases,” the knight agreed with a chuckle. “In most cases, though, the civil authorities aren't responsible for decades of death and destruction. King Palnar has to be stopped. His reign has been one of tyranny and oppression, if not to his own people, to countless innocents that didn't happen to be born under his rule.”

 
; “Oh, I couldn't agree more,” Kilren said with a nod. “Still, that doesn't make the situation any less ironic. We're almost certainly going to get more people killed in the short run, in order to get far fewer killed in the long run. It's the right choice to make, obviously, but that fact doesn't make the choice any more pleasant.”

  “You're right,” Darian agreed with a sigh. “I hate it, but I don't see what choice we have.”

  “We don't have any at all. If we don't stop Palnar, he might actually manage to conquer Innalas. And, succeed or fail, as soon as his armies are free again, he'll start yet another conquest. Wanting to avoid bloodshed is what has allowed him to do this for more than twenty years. King Illfas didn't want to declare war on Mikral, even though Mikral conquered Solarin and then started one war after another in the southern realms. I understand his motivations but, in the end, Innalas ended up in a war with Mikral just the same.”

  “That's true, too. I just wish there was some diplomatic solution.”

  “So do I,” Kilren nodded, “but you can rarely reason with a warmonger. Obviously, Palnar doesn't care about the morality of what he's doing. The only thing he cares about is gold and power. The wars he's started have given him plenty of both. So, I don't see how we could convince him to stop.”

  “I wasn't really thinking of him,” the Telian replied. “He's obviously happy with his choices, as wicked as they are. That may not be the case with all the lords that serve him, however.”

  “Who did you have in mind?”

  “No one in particular. I just think we should keep our eyes opened and look for opportunities.”

  “You may have a point there,” Kilren smiled. “After all, like you told me, Lord Andor was just waiting for an opportunity to begin Solarin's restoration. This war is certainly that.”