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

by Aaron J. Ethridge

As this point was self-evident, the party set out almost immediately. Before they left, however, Lord Jannus assured them that the surrounding countryside was almost completely free of the forces of the enemy. Every Mikralian soldier that could wield a weapon had marched north the preceding day. So, for several hours at least, they would likely be able to ride in the open in relative safety. He and his men would follow at a slightly slower pace and join them at the fords as soon as it was practical.

  The band pushed their beasts on as quickly as they could without doing the noble animals any harm and, by the time the sun set that evening, they had managed to greatly reduce the distance that separated them from the fords. The speed at which they traveled, coupled with the fact that their thoughts were almost completely occupied with what the current state of the war might be, greatly limited the conversation over the next few days. It was with weary limbs, but relieved hearts that they finally reached the camp their allies had setup at the fords.

  “My lord,” Darian cried, leaping from the saddle and making his way toward the old Telian.

  Lord Andor stepped quickly over to the young knight and embraced him in a bone-cracking hug.

  “It's good to see you, my boy,” he smiled.

  “You, as well, Sir,” Darian replied before taking Daegon by the wrist.

  “What have you been up to, while we've been busy fighting a war?” his former instructor asked with a wide smile.

  Darian quickly gave the pair a very brief overview of exactly what they had managed to accomplish.

  “You did very well,” Lord Andor nodded.

  “You certainly did,” Daegon agreed. “It also explains some of the strategic mistakes King Palnar has made over the last few days.”

  “It does, in part,” the aged lord smiled. “Of course, the council of magic did a fair amount to confuse and terrify our enemies. Not to mention, the small contribution the armies of Innalas made toward driving the Mikralian legions back to their own lands.”

  “True,” Daegon said, turning his eyes to the young Telian and his companions. “But, that doesn't lessen the role they played in it.”

  “Not in the least,” Lord Andor replied.

  “Where are Tealor and Sarena?” Gwendolyn asked.

  “With one of the patrols,” Daegon replied, “They should be back before long, though.”

  “What's the current situation?” Gregor asked.

  “We'll discuss that before long,” the old Telian replied. “For the moment, get some rest. Tomorrow will likely be a very busy day for all of us.”

  All of the party, with the possible exception of Ian, were too exhausted to argue with such a reasonable suggestion. They made their way to a nearby fire where food was currently being cooked and sat themselves down with a sense of joy and relief that, for the next few hours at least, they would be able to rest without constantly having to be on the lookout for their enemies.

  “When this is all over,” Kilren said, pausing long enough to take a drink, “I'm going to sleep for three days straight.”

  “I may sleep for four,” Erana replied with a weary smile.

  “That hardly sounds like a ranger of Innalas,” a familiar voice asserted a short distance behind them.

  “Galinral!” the elvish maiden exclaimed, turning her smiling face toward her brother.

  “The same,” he replied with a slight bow.

  Instantly, Erana and Kilren leapt to their feet, the one wrapping her arms around the newcomer, the other taking him firmly by the wrist.

  “A year is far too long, dear sister,” Galinral asserted, bending down to kiss her cheek. “You need to come home, at least for visit, the moment this current crisis is at an end.”

  “We intend to,” she replied.

  “We were actually planning to just before all of this happened,” Kilren pointed out.

  “I know,” the elvish lord smiled. “I speak with my mother on a fairly regular basis and Erana's latest letter almost always makes its way into her conversation.”

  “I don't suppose your father...” the lieutenant began.

  “He is,” Galinral interjected. “Although, he's not in camp at the moment.”

  “Do you know if he...”

  “I believe he's made up his mind,” Galinral asserted with a nod. “Erana's letters paint you in a very good light, not to mention the fact that I've offered our mother your praise as often as I could. As far as I'm concerned, you two are already engaged. You've spent a year effectively courting, you're still very much in love, and I doubt Erana will ever agree to marry anyone else.”

  “I won't,” she assured him.

  “You always were hardheaded,” he chuckled. “In any event, I feel certain that our father will come to the same conclusion in time. However, I would advise that you not mention it until after the current situation is somewhat more under control. He has more than enough to think about at the moment.”

  “I understand,” Kilren replied with a nod.

  The initial greeting concluded, the brother and sister sat down alongside the lieutenant and began sharing stories of their year apart. While they were so engrossed, an armor-covered dwarf with a long red beard approached the fireside.

  “Ian McFaren,” he said in a very gruff tone, “is that you, you silk wearing, song singing, bagpipe blowing excuse for a dwarf?”

  Instantly, the bard jumped to his feet, his hands balled into fists and his brows drawn together.

  “Aye, it is,” he barked. “And, unless my eyes are lying, which I can only hope they are, you're Angus McCarrlen. The ugliest dwarf, in the ugliest family, that the Eilian ever allowed to draw breath.”

  The armor-covered dwarf rushed at Ian, as the bard's friends all leapt to their feet. The two dwarves slammed together, embracing each other and laughing loudly.

  “Angus, you fool,” Ian said, pulling his friend back and gazing at his face, “what are you doing here?”

  “I heard about some fair dwarvish lass that was in need of a rescue,” he replied quite seriously. “Imagine my disappointment when I found out it was you.”

  “It’s too bad your wit isn't as sharp as your ax,” the bard observed.

  “Who's your friend, Ian?” Gwendolyn asked.

  “He's no friend of mine,” the bard chuckled. “He's my cousin. Allow me to introduce you to Angus Sean Caltric McCarrlen of the clan McFaren, one of the homeliest dwarves to ever lift an ax.”

  “And, one of the boldest,” Angus added.

  “Aye,” Ian agreed, “that's true too.”

  Having made this admission, the bard introduced each of his companions before resuming his previous subject.

  “Honestly, though, man,” he said, offering his cousin his tobacco pouch, “what brings you here?”

  “This war,” Angus replied, filling his pipe before taking a seat on the ground. “And, I'm not alone. There are two hundred of the clan here.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “We got word that Mikral had attacked Innalas more than a week ago,” Angus explained. “We felt it was only a matter of time before King Palnar turned his attention to us, so we thought we might as well offer Innalas a bit of support while we had the chance.”

  “King Palnar's a fool,” Ian said, “but, even he's not stupid enough to attack our people.”

  “Maybe not,” Angus replied, “but, Innalas needed the help just the same. Plus, King Illfas offered the clan the copper mine in the Doncrest Hills.”

  “That old shaft?” the bard chuckled. “You'd have to mine it for half-a-year to fill a single saddlebag with ore rich enough to be worth smelting.”

  “You're probably right,” Angus nodded, “but, it was really just meant as a gesture.”

  “I suppose it was that,” Ian nodded. “And, whatever the reason, I'm glad you're here.”

  “I expect you'll be even more so before all is said and done,” the bard's cousin replied with a knowing wink.

  Just minutes after the dwarvish warrior's introdu
ction, Tealor and Sarena joined the band. They had not only managed to keep themselves safe during the many battles that had transpired over the past few weeks, they had also contacted King Illfas in order to request his help in acquiring a suit of armor for Gwendolyn much like Sarena's own. The king had fulfilled this request, and the couple had brought the maiden's new dress of magical chain mail with them. They presented her with this gift and, just minutes later, she had put it on and Sarena was once again attired in her own armor.

  Roughly two hours after these merry meetings, Lord Andor called together a council of war.

  “As many of you already know,” the aged Telian began, “King Palnar joined his forces personally just days before we managed to drive them back across the fords. Currently, his army has withdrawn and taken up a position inside my own former fortress. Under normal circumstances, he would be able to hold the castle with the army he has for weeks, if not months, against our own troops. Not only does he have his most skilled warriors with him, he is also aided by his most powerful magic-users and a large force of Valrak's mercenaries. In point of fact, Valrak may even be with him.

  “However, I believe it unlikely that King Palnar or his men have discovered the sally tunnel than runs beneath the chapel. Sir Darian and his companions, as well as any who want to volunteer to join them, will make their way through this entrance...”

  “That's a job for dwarves if I've ever heard of one,” Angus interjected. “You have your volunteers, my lord.”

  “Thank you, Master McCarrlen,” the aged lord nodded. “At the first light of dawn tomorrow, our main force will attack the fortress. While that assault is underway, Sir Darian and the warriors with him will enter the chapel and do their best to open the gates and arrest King Palnar before he has a chance to escape. If we can capture him, we should be able to bring this war to a speedy end.”

  “May the Eilian watch over us.”

  With their brief council concluded, the companions prepared to make their way to the catacombs. Although Darian did his best, along with Gregor, to persuade Gwendolyn to remain behind with the main force, she insisted on coming with the party. She argued that, even if Valrak were in the castle, she was safer with them than anywhere else in all of Areon; no matter what the circumstances. The maiden also pointed out that she had saved their lives on countless occasions and that she would rather die with them than survive without them. As these were arguments the knight couldn't refute, he decided it would be best to let her have her way without further argument.

  Although it clearly frustrated Tealor to a certain extent, he and his wife remained with Lord Andor and the forces with him as Darian and his companions set out. Sarena quite rightly pointed out that, until their child was at least old enough to know who their father was, the warrior would have to take the safest of whatever dangerous routes fate forced them to choose between. Being the loving husband that he was, he accepted this truth with good tempered resolution.

  Several hours later, the party found itself at the entrance of the hidden sally tunnel. They spent a majority of the night in a fire-less camp and rose the following morning an hour before dawn. If they timed it right, they would reach the end of the tunnel just as Lord Andor began his assault.

  “How will we know that the attack has started?” Kilren asked, as he marched through the tunnel a short distance behind Ian.

  “We'll look out of the windows of the chapel,” the dwarf replied.

  “What if someone's in the chapel when we come out?”

  “Why would they be?”

  “Might be praying.”

  “Then we'll be quiet, so as not to disturb them.”

  “If we end up found out, are we going to have room to fight in this tunnel?”

  “We dwarves will,” Angus replied. “If you're scared, man, why did you come with us?”

  “I'm not scared,” the lieutenant explained. “I'm careful. The more we think about what could go wrong, the more likely we are to be prepared if something does go wrong.”

  “Aye,” the dwarvish warrior nodded. “I suppose you do have a point, at that.”

  “The king will probably be in the keep,” Kilren said thoughtfully.

  “Probably,” Ian agreed.

  “How do we get the doors opened? I mean; if they're closed. Which they probably will be.”

  “I think I can take care of that,” Jalek assured him.

  “What if we run into Valrak?” the lieutenant asked.

  “We kill him,” was Gregor's simple reply.

  After several miles of underground travel, the party reached the stairway that led to the chapel. The young Telian took the lead, making his way to the top of the stairs before commanding the altar above him to open. Instantly, it obeyed him and the knight rose cautiously into the empty room above.

  The pale light of dawn and the hushed din of battle that made their way into the chamber told the knight that the castle was already under assault. He moved quickly to one of the windows, from which he could see a section of the walls as well as the steps leading up to the keep. Countless arrows flew over the ramparts as the men atop them fired crossbows into the ranks of their enemies.

  As he watched, dark and unnatural clouds formed above the fortress at a remarkable speed. All at once, shards of ice the size and shape of spearheads began to rain down on the defenders. This was answered by jets of flame rising from different points within the courtyard, flying from the hands of the sorcerers of Mikral. These flames came together above the castle, forming a shield of fire protecting its defenders from the rain of deadly ice.

  “Well,” Kilren said, gazing over Darian's shoulder, “I've never seen anything like that before.”

  “I have,” Ian replied. “We don't have the time to waste watching it, though.”

  “Angus,” the knight said, turning his attention to the dwarvish commander, “can you capture the gates without us?”

  “Without a doubt,” he nodded.

  “Good,” the Telian replied. “While you're doing that, we'll capture King Palnar. Are we ready?”

  “One moment, Sir Darian,” Jalek interjected. “If he's in the keep, you can be sure its doors are locked and barred. Not to mention, well defended. We need to make sure the door is open by the time we reach it.”

  “How do we do that?” Erana asked.

  “Give me a moment,” he replied with a smile, “and I'll show you.”

  The wizard asked his companions to step back in order to give him room to work. For close to half-a-minute he stared silently out of the window before beginning to chant, while at the same time drawing a series of glowing green runes on the floor in the shape a large circle. As his spell reached its end, he struck the circle with his staff.

  It vanished from the floor, only to reappear in the courtyard. Instantly, what appeared to be a giant composed of earth and stone pulled itself up from out of the ground under the glowing runes. Leaving behind it a massive hole, the giant strode quickly in the direction of the keep. In mere seconds, the sound of screaming men blended with one resounding boom after another.

  “Let's go,” Jalek said.

  Without another word, the doors of the chapel were thrown open. As Angus and the dwarves with him headed for the castle gates, Darian and his companions flew in the direction of the keep.

  They arrived to find the massive elemental surrounded by attacking soldiers, who it was completely ignoring, as time and again it struck the doors of the structure with its massive fists. Its head was suddenly engulfed in flames causing it to bellow in agony and rage. Kilren and Erana both leveled their weapons at the enemy sorcerer who was the source of this attack and brought him to earth with bolt and arrow.

  This assault distracted the creature, however, causing it to turn its attention to the men who were slowly hacking bits off of its current body.

  “We'll deal with them!” Jalek cried. “Break down the door!”

  To this, the creature made a number of seemingly inarticulate no
ises as it slapped one of the Mikralian soldiers into the air.

  “What difference does that make?!” the wizard replied as his allies rushed toward the warriors attacking the creature. “It's only pain! It's not as if it can actually hurt you!”

  Once again, the monster replied in a language only the wizard seemed to understand as he grabbed another of his attackers by the throat and threw him across the courtyard.

  “Why are you always like this?! Have you forgotten what I've gone through for you?!”

  With a low growl, the creature turned its attention back to the portal; striking it, if possible, with even more force. After several more blows, the doors shattered. Jalek then commanded the monster to make his way to the gates to offer what support he could to their dwarvish allies. This done, the party rushed inside the keep.

  The few soldiers that stood guard over the heart of the fortress – in case, by some miracle, any enemies managed to make their way inside – were no match for the Telian and his allies. They were no sooner encountered than overwhelmed. In mere minutes, the party burst through the doors to the main hall. There, just as they had expected, they found the king and his personal attendants.

  Darian had never seen King Palnar before, or even heard him described. It came as something of a surprise, therefore, when he discovered that the king of Mikral was nearly seven feet tall and in extremely good shape for a man in his late forties to early fifties. On his head was a broad band of gold, covered in runes. The rest of his body was covered in plate-mail. In his right hand, he held a bastard sword; in his left, a dagger just over a foot long.

  His attendants were only slightly less impressive in appearance. Darian felt that the four truly massive men at the king's sides were probably members of his personal guard. Two of them were wielding halberds; the other two, two-handed swords. A man and a woman stood a short distance behind King Palnar. The robes they wore and staffs they bore made it obvious that they were spell-casters of some kind. In addition to these, was an older man with long gray hair and a short beard. Although he wore a sword at his side, it was the rather large crossbow in his hands that first attracted Kilren's attention.