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

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  “I suppose that's true,” Ian replied.

  “So, even if I missed you for the rest of my life, it wouldn't be all that long before we were together again. Plus, I'm pretty sure I could preserve your dead bodies with divine power. Then, if the Eilian changed their minds, I would be able to bring you back to life at some point later on. I mean; I certainly don't think it's a good idea to go against their will before you even give them a chance to change their minds. That's just common sense, isn't it?”

  “I suppose...” the bard began.

  “Thank you, Ian!” Darian interrupted. “I really appreciate the talk. I feel much better now.”

  “I'm glad, lad,” Ian chuckled. “I'm not sure exactly what I said, but I'm glad to know that it was the right thing.”

  Their group, currently consisting of far fewer riders, was able to make its way toward Willrak's castle in a much straighter line than it had proceeded from it while still managing to carefully avoid all contact with the enemy. After traveling until nearly midnight, the band reached its destination. They were quickly welcomed inside, where they were able to share the good news of the caravan's capture before being offered the comfort of peaceful sleep in soft beds. As soon as they rose the following morning, Lord Belfast, who had been knighted by Lord Jannus just days earlier, convened a council of war.

  “As you all know,” Lord Belfast, began, “I was left in command of this castle until Sir Willrak's safe return. Fortunately, as things stand at the moment, we've heard nothing of the enemy. However, that can't last much longer. We can be sure that we've gotten King Palnar's attention.”

  “We certainly can be,” Gregor agreed. “If I were in his shoes, I'd already be assembling a force to recapture this fortress.”

  “Which is exactly what we're afraid of,” Lord Belfast pointed out. “Obviously, we want to do what we can to relieve Innalas, but we don't want to throw our lives away trying to defend a hopeless position.”

  “Are you suggesting retreat?” Gregor asked, a condescending tone in his voice.

  “Not at all,” Lord Belfast replied. “What I'm suggesting is that we keep forcing King Palnar to spread his forces further out. We need to make sure that his men are too busy to engage in a prolonged siege against either of our strongholds.”

  “We'd be more than happy to do that,” Kilren replied. “Do you have any suggestions on how we could go about it?”

  “I certainly do,” Lord Belfast said with a wide smile. “Yesterday morning, an informant discovered that King Palnar is holding Prince Forlan hostage.”

  “Prince Forlan?” Erana asked.

  “He's the son of King Eardman Dockmar,” Ian replied, “the ruler of Thelsfar. A realm to the south which, until recently, Mikral had been at war with.”

  “That explains the sudden peace between the two kingdoms,” Gwendolyn speculated.

  “It certainly does,” Lord Belfast agreed. “Prince Forlan is being held in The Tower of the Dawn in the very heart of Mikral City. If he were set at liberty, his father would almost certainly declare war on Mikral again, especially considering the fact that King Palnar is involved in another war, as well as having to deal with a rebellion.”

  “So,” Kilren said, his eyes turned to the knight, “you want us to try and break someone out of the most secure prison in Mikral?”

  “That's an excellent plan!” Gregor said excitedly. “Not only would it draw Mikral into a second full scale war, it would restore a prince to his home and his people. I'd say that was a noble goal, wouldn't you, Sir Darian?”

  “Absolutely,” the Telian nodded.

  “Sure!” the lieutenant added. “It's almost up there with rescuing kidnapped maidens...”

  “Almost,” Gwendolyn interjected, smiling at Darian.

  “The problem is,” Kilren continued, “that we'll never be able to do it. However thin the forces of Mikral have been spread, you can be sure that the capital still has a fairly substantial garrison. Not to mention the fact that we'd be a rather conspicuous group wandering around the streets of the city. I was barely able to get us out of there last time, and only a handful of the guards knew exactly what they were looking for. On top of which, the door of the tower is nearly a foot thick and sealed with magic. We'll never get in.”

  “We might be able to find a way,” Ian said, thoughtfully scratching himself under his beard. “The tower has a dungeon beneath it, as well as cells above ground, doesn't it?”

  “It does,” Kilren nodded, “but, I don't see where that makes any difference. There's only one door into the place, no matter where they're keeping the prince. I doubt he's in the dungeon, anyway.”

  “I doubt that, as well,” the bard agreed. “However, I'm thinking that the dungeon is probably a good bit nearer the sewers than the top of the tower is.”

  “Almost certainly,” Kilren replied, rolling his eyes. “It's not going to be as easy as creeping through the sewers though, Ian. If it were that simple, it wouldn't be much of a prison, would it?”

  “Maybe,” the dwarf said with a shrug. “Maybe not. Whichever the case, however, I think it would be a great deal safer for us to try and come up from underneath, lad. If we can't find a way in, we'll be able to leave without them being any the wiser. Either way, there's no harm in trying.”

  “Unless, of course,” the lieutenant replied, his eyes locked on those of the dwarf, “we get ourselves caught.”

  “We won't,” Gregor asserted. “Of all the things King Palnar might be expecting, he won't be expecting something like this.”

  “No, he won't,” Kilren agreed. “That's mainly because it's completely insane.”

  “Do you think you could find your way under the tower through the sewers?” Ian asked.

  “Maybe,” the lieutenant sighed. “Several times during our little explorations, Andrea and I got close enough to see it through some of the sewer grates. This is a really bad idea, though.”

  “I don't think so,” Erana asserted with a smile. “Like Gregor said, they won't be expecting it. If we manage to find a way in, Gwendolyn will be able to make herself and me invisible and...”

  “You and her, eh?” Kilren interrupted, shaking his head. “I'm liking this... I guess we'll call it a plan... less and less. If anything, I should go with her.”

  “No,” Erana replied with a mischievous grin, “I'm sneakier than you are.”

  “No, you're not,” he denied.

  “By far,” she asserted. “It's not even close, really.”

  “Well, either way...”

  “Either way,” she interrupted. “You'll be better at keeping Darian out of trouble than I will.”

  “Well,” he sighed. “That is true, I suppose.”

  “However we decide to go about it,” Gregor interjected, “we have to try. Thelsfar needs it's prince, and Prince Forlan needs his kingdom.”

  “Even if we manage to rescue him...” Kilren began.

  “Which I'm sure we will,” Gwendolyn added optimistically.

  “What do we do with him once we've got him?” the lieutenant continued. “It won't do us much good to bring him back here, and we can't afford to spend weeks escorting him home. Solarin needs us here.”

  “That is a fair point,” Darian agreed.

  “That shouldn't be an issue,” Lord Belfast assured him. “We can certainly spare a few men to see him safely home. Dressed as peasants riding through the countryside, they shouldn't attract much attention. At least, that should be the case once they've managed to get a fair distance from the city. I'm sure if you were to give the prince a choice, he'd take his chances on the road rather than in the tower.”

  “Probably,” Kilren admitted. “But, even so, it may take Thelsfar a month or more to marshal their forces for an attack. We want to put as much pressure on King Palnar as quickly as possible.”

  “Which is why this is such a good plan,” Gregor pointed out. “As soon as he realizes that Prince Forlan has escaped, he'll have to start preparing his defenses
. If we succeed, it could help our cause within hours.”

  “I couldn't agree more,” Lord Belfast replied.

  “Well then,” Kilren said, slowly shaking his head, “as it seems most of us are determined to make this insane attempt, we may as well get started. There's no point in sitting around here talking about what may or may not work. One way or the other, the sooner we get started, the better.”

  The entire party could see the sense of this sentiment. Less than an hour after this discussion, they were riding toward Mikral City; hoping to find some way to free the captured prince and send him safely home. Having given Kilren's advice a couple of days to manifest results without any results having manifested themselves, Gwendolyn decided to use some of their travel time in an attempt to speed the young knight along.

  “Sir Darian,” she said, pulling up beside him, where he rode at the very end of their little column.

  “Yes, Lady Gwendolyn?” he replied, not looking up from the book he was reading.

  “You seem to be nearing the end,” she observed.

  “I am,” he nodded.

  “Have you found any of it interesting?”

  “I have.”

  “Like what?”

  “Lots of things.”

  “Like meaningless flattery?” she asked with a coy smile.

  “Yeah,” he nodded, “like that.”

  “You know, study is all well and good, but nothing beats practice.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, for the first time glancing up from the volume.

  “I mean,” she replied with a slight blush, “that you don't seem to have been putting a great deal of effort into actually being gallant lately.”

  “Haven't I?” he asked.

  “You haven't,” she sighed. “But, I understand. It can't be easy to constantly try to think up nice things to say about me.”

  “Well... actually...” he said, slowly closing the book as he spoke and offering her his complete attention. “It's... It's not that at all...”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” he began, before clearing his throat and glancing around at nothing in particular. “It's not at all difficult to find nice things to say about you.”

  “What do you mean?” she repeated.

  “I mean,” he replied, once again clearing his throat before falling silent.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked after several seconds, offering him an encouraging smile.

  “Not really,” he replied before swallowing. “It's just that you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

  “You shouldn't say that,” she said, playfully scolding him. “Telian Knights should never exaggerate. It's too much like lying.”

  “I'm not exaggerating!” he replied defensively. “That's really how I feel about it. Maybe not everyone would. Obviously, everybody has different standards. I mean; Kilren probably doesn't think you're as pretty as Erana. That doesn't mean he's wrong or that, when he tells her she's the most beautiful girl in the world, he's lying.”

  “I suppose that's true,” she ceded. “But, if that's the case...”

  “If?” he interrupted.

  “I'm sorry,” she smiled. “I meant; since. Since that's the case, what is it you find beautiful about me?”

  For several seconds, the knight sat staring silently ahead of him.

  “Everything,” he replied at last.

  “That's a little vague,” she giggled. “I think you should try to be more specific. Just to help you practice.”

  “Alright,” he said with a sigh. “Let's see. First off, you're generous, gentle, kind, considerate, forgiving, compassionate, and valiant. In fact, I think you're an excellent example of most of the virtues. Not to mention the fact that you have a sincere reverence for the Eilian and the Creator. Needless to say, I find that beautiful.”

  “I'm sure you do,” she replied with a smile. “So, you think I'm a beautiful person?”

  “I know you're a beautiful person,” he said, taking another deep breath. “Of course, I also know that you're a beautiful young woman. Your eyes are like two living emeralds that draw my very soul nearer yours when I gaze into them. Your lips are the color of the richest wine, which makes a man long to taste it. Your hair is like spun gold that fills my heart with a desire to run my hands through such a luxuriant treasure.”

  “That book must be magical,” the maiden almost whispered.

  “What?” the knight asked with a confused look on his face.

  “Nothing, Sir Darian” she replied, her eyes locked on his. “When you consider all that, doesn't it make you want to ask me anything?”

  “I guess it does, actually,” he said, taking yet another deep breath.

  “What is that?” she asked, her heart pounding and her voice almost trembling.

  “How do you keep your hair from being a complete tangled mess?” he replied.

  “What?”

  “I mean; look at mine,” he said, rubbing his hand on the back of his head. “Even though it's short, it's still all messed up first thing in the morning. Of course, I can just straighten it out with my hand. I'm sure I couldn't do that if it went down to the middle of my back, though. So, how do you deal with it?”

  “I have a brush in my saddlebags,” the maiden replied, shaking her head in disbelief. “I brush my hair every morning. Hadn't you ever noticed?”

  “I had, now that you mention it,” he chuckled. “It's funny how you can see something every day and never think anything about it until someone mentions it.”

  “It certainly is,” she agreed, “but, is there anything else you can think of that you might want to ask me while we're alone?”

  “Not at the moment,” he replied, shaking his head. “It's not like you have to do anything with your lips to make them that color. And, your eyes are just your eyes, aren't they? Nobody can really do anything with them, can they?”

  “I suppose not...”

  “Is there anything you want to ask me?” he asked.

  “Like what?”

  “Like, how do I keep my armor so shiny?”

  “You polish it almost every day.”

  “You noticed,” he observed with a smile.

  “Yes,” she sighed. “I noticed... Either way, progress is progress. I'll just have to make the most of that, I guess.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing, Sir Darian,” she replied, shaking her head. “Nothing, at all. Finish your book.”

  “I certainly will,” he said with a wide smile, opening the tome to where he had left off.

  The beautiful young maiden was somewhat distressed the following afternoon to find that the Telian had not yet managed to finish his reading. She stared at him as he rode toward the front of the column, near Ian's side, with the open book in his hands. Gwendolyn couldn't help but think that he was, perhaps, the slowest reader she had ever met.

  Of course, she had to admit that she'd never paid such keen attention to how long it took someone to read something before. If the reader were anyone else, the sluggish pace at which he seemed to be working his way through the volume would have at least offered her the consolation that he was doing his best to commit every word of it to heart. Sadly, she couldn't hold the same opinion with regard to Sir Darian.

  It wasn't likely that he was taking his time, so much as it was that he was constantly distracted or confused. She couldn't help but smile as she considered the fact that his mind probably found itself wrapped in such thoughts as: Where did letters come from? Who wrote the first book? What was the first book about? Why did anyone decide to write a book about gallantry? Why is it called gallantry, anyway? Why is it that men don't wear dresses, but women do wear pants?

  “Alone at last,” Gregor said with a smile, interrupting the maiden's reverie.

  Gwendolyn started in surprise, before turning her eyes to the handsome young lord.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Hadn't you noticed?” he sai
d softly, “Sir Darian seems determined to make sure we're never alone together.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it's true,” he chuckled. “And, keep your voice down. If he hears us talking, he'll be riding between us in less than a minute.”

  “What's wrong with that?” she asked, gazing at him from under a single raised eyebrow. “I'm sure there's nothing you want to say to me that a Telian shouldn't hear.”

  “Normally, no,” he agreed, before giving her a wink, “but, I can think of a few things I'd like to say to you that I wouldn't want that particular Telian to hear.”

  “Be serious,” she replied with a slight blush.

  “I assure you, I am,” he said.

  “Well, if you can't say it in front of Darian, then I don't want to hear it.”

  “Really?” Gregor asked, a tone of mock surprise in his voice. “Alright, if you don't know your own mind enough to give me your opinion on a religious matter, I guess we'll just talk about something else.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “No, no,” the young lord replied. “I understand. After all, you don't need opinions of your own. I can just talk to Darian about it later if I want to know how you feel on the subject.”

  “I have opinions of my own,” Gwendolyn pointed out. “I don't always agree with him on everything. Although, I think you'll agree, he knows more about religion than I do.”

  “He knows more about religion than any of us,” Gregor asserted, “but, that doesn't mean he knows everything.”

  “No, it doesn't,” she agreed. “I've never heard him claim that he did.”

  “I didn't mean it as an accusation,” he assured her. “I'm just saying that Darian may not always be right.”

  “I'm sure he isn't always right.”

  “Which is why I wanted to ask you about your opinion when he wasn't around,” Gregor explained. “Darian can't help but dominate any discussion on religion. I don't mean that as any kind of insult, I'm just saying it's a fact.”

  “I suppose I see what you mean,” she admitted. “Although, I'm not sure I completely agree with you.”