“We could stay off the road and head through the woodlands,” Lucius suggested.
“The woodlands?” Alistair said, then chuckled lightly. “My boy, that will slow your progress further. It’ll be past the Wintermarch before you step foot in Aldron, and who knows what may have occurred by then.”
Siegfried furrowed his brow, visibly annoyed at the druid. “And I suppose you know a different way to Aldron than those already mentioned?”
Alistair gave a thin smile. “I do. But it will require you to have an open mind, my dear elf.”
Siegfried glanced at Lucius, then crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation.
“There is a much quicker way to Aldron than most travelers know about. It’s a bit treacherous, but I think I’ll be able to help you through that.”
“Where is this way you speak of?” Lucius asked, his interest incredibly piqued.
“It lies inside Raven’s Peak…through the mines of King Balfour, sovereign lord of the dwarves.”
CHAPTER 3
A GAME OF PATIENCE
The sunlight beamed through the polished windows of the Windrose Inn, giving warmth to Violet’s face as she stared at the busy street below. Street merchants cluttered the narrow street where crowds bought many of the wares and food necessary to daily living. She watched as two men argued over the price of a lamb shank, pushing and shoving each other. Prices had recently escalated among vendors. Meat and grains were becoming scarce after the dragon attack burned many of the storehouses in the city. Like leeches hungry for blood, the merchant guilds wanted to wrest every last solidus from the pockets of the peasantry. No one was happy about the matter, least of all Violet.
She crossed her quaint bedroom and paced quietly for a few minutes, deep in thought. It had almost been a month since she had made her declaration to speak with the king. At the time, she was confident she’d gain an audience when she revealed a royal heirloom in her possession: the queen’s wedding band. Of course, the royal guards did not believe it was the real thing, but after the town crier looked over the unmistakable family crest of Dermont etched on the inside of the ring, she was welcomed inside the palace immediately.
Unfortunately, there were constant delays to seeing the king, thanks in no part to the savage assault on the city. Nobles and lords flooded the king’s halls day and night with numerous reports on the state of the damage, Draknoir troop movements, and other important matters regarding the state of the kingdom. Eventually, her requests fell on deaf ears, and a week ago the guards refused to let her inside the palace anymore. After all, who wanted to speak with an apothecary who held a trinket that may or may not be the queen’s wedding ring?
Each day she was told by the king’s seneschal to come back the next day for an audience. She had become accustomed to waiting, but it was beginning to wear thin.
Avani could have eased the entire affair by revealing her true identity to the seneschal, a wiry man with a clump of tousled black hair on his head. Roger was his name. Or maybe Francis? She couldn’t remember, nor did she care. She just wanted a shortcut through their current predicament. Avani’s royal credentials provided the best possible option, but the elf princess wasn’t sure if she was willing to risk her secret becoming public. They had argued about it numerous times over the past month.
“I can’t reveal myself to the Aldronians. Our secret concerning the Requiem Sword is much too important. King Alfryd is a good leader, but like all men in power he can be easily corrupted,” Avani said.
“You don’t seem to have much confidence in mankind, Avani. After all, you’ve known me for more than a year, and I’ve never been as two-faced as you describe my people,” Violet said, looking rather perturbed at her.
“In the beginning I wasn’t sure if I could trust you, Violet. But through our common struggles together I have learned just how kind and gracious you are. I have not had that same pleasure with regard to others.”
“Yes, but you know Silas. And can’t he be trusted if no one else?”
Avani didn’t respond to the question. She looked away thoughtfully and changed the conversation to something else. A very annoying habit, Violet thought.
Despite their disagreement over the matter of Avani’s identity, the two got along well through the days of constant waiting. Avani spent most of her time in her room, reading the local paper for any pertinent news. In the evenings, she unpacked her whetstone and sharpened her daggers and glaive. She was a blacksmith at heart despite her royal blood. Violet had learned that Avani’s father was never completely approving of the vocation. Princesses in Numa focused on royal duties rather than the work of lower class elves. But Avani’s passion for metallurgy would not be hindered.
If Violet had brought her vials and unguents along, she would probably be busying herself with her apothecary work. But without any of her supplies, she spent most of her time pacing her bedroom, watching the crowds outside, and talking with Avani. Their conversations were usually short, and focused on matters of the day. They spoke of their plan for talking to the king and how they should proceed with telling him about the sword. Of course, Avani was vehemently against the idea, but Violet tried to be as persuasive as possible. She trusted Silas and knew that secrecy would only take them so far on this errand. In her usual manner, Avani would divert the subject to their other pressing task: finding camel leather for the grip of the Requiem Sword.
Unfortunately, the attack on Aldron had caused a shortage in many textiles, including camel leather. When she wasn’t in her room sharpening her weapons or reading, Avani was out on the street trying to barter some of the rare leather from the less scrupulous merchants below. Of course, Violet thought this was a waste of time. If they gained an audience with the king, Violet was confident that he would have camel leather for them to use. But they were at impasse due to Avani’s stubbornness. As the days went on, the lack of much to do and her friend’s obstinate nature were driving Violent mad.
To take her mind off everything, Violet went outside for a walk in the streets of Aldron. She found herself pitying the state of the Aldronians who lost their lives, homes, and livelihoods to the attack. The peasantry suffered the most while the upper classes were largely unaffected. The wealthier section of the city, built with expensive stone and brick, was relatively unscathed. This seems to be the lot of the poor, she thought. Their burdens were innumerable in contrast to the well-to-do families of Aldron. It was a plight she knew all too well.
Despite the disparities that existed in Aldron, she was still concerned about Prince Silas. No word had come to her about the fight in Ithileo. She tried not to think about what might’ve happened to him. It was possible that he could have fallen in battle, but she’d seen him fight the Draknoir before. He was capable warrior. And yet she worried each night about the man who she had grown to love. It seemed foolish to pine for a prince when she was a lowly apothecary of the peasant class. Yet there was something there: a spark of love she wanted to fan into a flame.
After her walk, Violet returned to her room and lay on her bed. Her thoughts for Silas were interrupted by a knock at the door. Avani stood in the hallway outside, rather distressed.
“What’s the matter?” Violet asked
“I’ve just returned from the wharf—”
“The wharf? What the blazes were you doing down there?”
Avani shot her an angry look, not appreciating the interruption.
“Sorry. Go on,” Violet said.
“I received a tip that a member of the Spindle operated at the wharf, and I wanted to pay him a visit,” Avani continued.
The Spindle was a black market guild which operated from Tarshish. They had local chapters in different cities in Azuleah, and gathered in secret to avoid town constables. It surprised Violet that Avani would even consider going to such a dubious organization.
“Essentially I learned that the camel leather we’re searching for is highly rare in these parts now. The man I spoke to said the merchant
ships which bring the leather to port were destroyed by the dragon. There is no one who can continue the trade before the spring season.”
“And there’s no one else who trades or sells this leather?” Violet asked
“It doesn’t sound like it. The few people who possess the expensive leather are nobles who do not wish to sell, especially now when materials are so scarce. I have a few more leads, but I doubt that they will turn up much for us.”
Violet sighed. She knew there was only one option left to them, but whether Avani would agree to it was another matter. “You know that only leaves my original plan, Avani,” she said, looking expectantly at her friend.
“I do,” Avani acknowledged. “But let me seek out these leads first. I know your patience is growing thin as we wait here. Mine is too. Yet it is imperative that we do everything possible to protect the sword.”
“You mean protect your identity,” Violet said with an edge to her voice.
Avani caught the tone, but kept calm. “Not just my identity, Violet. Lucius is the Ellyllei. The elven prophecy speaks of the significance of his role in wielding the Requiem Sword. If we reveal our hand too early, we put him in jeopardy as well.”
Violet hadn’t thought of that. She didn’t wish to place more danger on Lucius or Siegfried. Despite only knowing them for a short time, she felt beholden to them. Now she wondered how they were faring on their journey to the Grey Swamps. Though she knew little of the place, she was acquainted with the stories of a haunted marsh where folks vanished mysteriously.
“So what do you suggest we do if your leads get us nowhere?” Violet asked.
“We will meet with the King, but we shall follow Silas’ instructions to keep our identities hidden.”
“And you’ll disclose your plans for the Requiem Sword?”
Avani gave her a sidelong glance. “Yes, of course. We’ll have to come up with a convincing story for my intimate knowledge of the blade and its forging to avoid suspicion, but I’m sure with that ring you’ll be able to gain Alfryd’s trust.”
Violet looked down at the queen’s ring hanging from a chain around her neck. She’d become attached to the beautiful jewelry, treasuring it as though it were a real gift. It was a silly notion, but she felt it all the same.
“Well, then I’d better head out to meet with Roger, our lovely seneschal. Perhaps today he’ll finally let me have an audience,” Violet said ruefully. She wrapped her wool shawl around her shoulders tightly.
“I believe his name is Robert,” Avani said.
“Really? I thought it was Roger. He looks like a Roger,” Violet replied, now racking her mind about the man’s actual name.
After a brief goodbye to Avani she stepped out of the room and headed downstairs. The inn was empty in the afternoon save for a few workers scrubbing the floors or wiping tables. An hour ago it was bustling with lunch-goers needing a hot meal and strong drink. As with everything else in Aldron now, the meals served were quite expensive. Thankfully, Violet had saved a good deal of silver Solidi in the months before their excursion. But another month’s worth of lodging and eating at the Windrose Inn might empty her coin purse.
Walking out on the street, Violet began the futile exercise of avoiding the ravenous merchants and their clientele. She was used to the hawkish practices of the streetside marketers, but in these uncertain times they were more aggressive than ever. One man with a very thick mustache and scraggly beard threatened that she would die of starvation if she didn’t buy his grain. She shrugged the pushy man off and continued through the market until the yelling of vendors and eager buyers was far behind her.
The road she traversed on was Bernham Street, and it was rife with travelers and city dwellers. Horses, carriages, wagons, and the walking public were making their way toward the bustling market. She weaved her way through the crowds until she found the intersection with Noble Street, the main road leading to Gilead Palace. As she neared the large castle, she was spellbound by the shimmering spires that pierced the sky above. The elaborate masonry and buttresses of the keep were architectural wonders, both beautiful and intimidating. During the day, the towers seem to shimmer in the sunlight, an effect created by the orichalcum stonework. Many believed the enchanted stones used to build the palace were salvaged from fallen golems that lived in Joppa eons ago. Violet doubted the validity of the story, but it certainly didn’t detract from the magical aura of Gilead Palace. The only blight on the structure was the east wing, which suffered charring from the dragon’s unrelenting fire. A network of scaffolding was in place along the ruined edifice, and workers labored endlessly to restore its supernatural luster.
Violet strolled toward the southeast entrance of the palace where two guards adorned in full ceremonial armor eyed her suspiciously. Flashing a smile, she greeted them and began her usual request. “I wish to have an audience with the king, my lords. Sir Roger told me to check in daily to see if the king would grant my request,” she said.
The two guards glanced at each other with confused expressions. “Sir Roger?” the guard on the left asked. “Do you mean…Sir Robert?”
Violet cursed. “Yes, that’s right,” she said, suddenly exasperated at her poor memory.
“Wait here, madam,” the guard on the right said. He turned on his heel and strode through the gate. Moments later he returned with Sir Robert, who rushed over to her. He gave a sigh once he recognized the familiar woman at the gate.
“Oh, it’s you again. I’m sorry, my dear lass, but the king is immensely busy today. Perhaps tomorrow—”
“Sir Robert, please. You’ve delayed my audience with his Majesty for over a week now. Did you not tell the king that I possess his wife’s ring?” Violet said.
Sir Robert’s face contorted into a deep frown. “I have not, my lady. To be honest, I’m not sure I believe this story of yours. Prince Silas would never stoop so low as to give away his mother’s wedding band to the likes of a poor peasant girl.”
Violet clenched her fists. She was not the kind of person who allowed her temper to flare in public, even at such a flagrant insult. But weeks of dealing with this prissy nobleman had irritated her more than she ever could have imagined. She took a breath and kept her voice calm. “My lord, I assure my story is true and this is indeed Queen Ada’s ring. Now if you would only show it to the king, I’m sure he would confirm its authenticity. Please give me a chance—”
“No,” he said with finality. “You will not come here again, miss. I have wasted enough time debating this subject with you. If you choose to return on the morrow, the guards will throw you out of this city, and I will get a royal order to keep you out!”
Her jaw dropped. She felt the sting of tears forming in her eyes. They had failed, and it was all her fault.
She raised her hands in a stopping gesture. “No, please, my lord. I’m sorry. Do not cast me out. This is truly an important matter!”
“Guards, seize her,” Robert ordered.
The two guards grabbed her arms, and Violet’s eyes were moist with unstoppable tears now. She couldn’t believe this was happening after so much time waiting patiently for a good outcome. Now their mission would be a failure.
She opened her mouth to scream, but the loud blare of a trumpet stopped her. The high-pitched sound was coming from the city gate a few blocks away from the palace.
“Dear Yewa! It’s the royal chords. The Prince has returned to Aldron,” Sir Roger said, a look of excitement and fear on his face. “Unhand her and go inform Lord Weifar and the footmen! Make haste!”
The guards let go of Violet and she nearly fell on the flagstones outside the entrance. She gathered herself and took in the seneschal’s words. Silas had come home. Before she could fully comprehend the matter, a crowd of onlookers developed around the palace, pressing her closer to the castle gate. The thunderous sound of horse hooves clacking on cobblestone grew closer to her position. Excited voices all around her reached a fever pitch as the armor of hundreds of Aldronian warrio
rs could be seen now. Yells of victory and praise rang from the crowd, including Sir Roger, who clapped like a giddy schoolboy at the sight of the king’s standard. Violet wiped her tears to clear her vision, looking desperately for the face she had been dreaming about for so long. And then, in the middle of the cavalcade, she saw him.
Silas rode onto Noble Street with his head held high, taking in the chorus of voices celebrating his return to Aldron. Violet smiled unwittingly, feeling despair leave her body now that she knew Silas would set everything right.
CHAPTER 4
DJOULMIR
The Grey Swamps were brighter than Lucius remembered on their first foray into the sullen marshland. A cloud of gloom had lifted, and now the sounds of wild animals and birds filled the swamp. It was still an unpleasant place to live, but it held more life now with Sêrhalon gone.
Lucius, Siegfied, and Alistair set out from the cottage at noon. The druid insisted that they pack their bags light. Lucius packed three meals and some leftover supplies from their time in Sylvania. Siegfried argued with Alistair over the meager provisions. He believed they needed more for the long journey to Aldron, but Alistair waved away his concerns.
The druid was being rather coy about their trip to Raven’s Peak. He said little about the dwarven civilization that lived beneath the mountain, but Lucius wrested a few details. The dwarf city was called Douljmir, a dwarfish word meaning “haven” or “refuge.” Djoulmir acted as the central seat of power for King Balfour, descendant of Ulfr, the patriarch of all dwarf peoples. The city had also served as an elaborate mine for several centuries.
As was expected, Siegfried hated the idea of holding audience with a dwarf sovereign like Balfour. They knew little about the king of Douljmir, and the few scant details they’d read in the histories kept in Evingrad were not flattering. According to the Traveler of Marsolas, the king of the dwarves was an inhospitable curmudgeon with a nasty temper. He put great stock in a person’s appearance, be they dwarf, human, or otherwise. Unsurprisingly, the king’s hatred of elves was legendary according to history texts. The Traveler mentioned one tale of a group of elves who ventured too closely to the mountain and were slaughtered by the king’s guards simply for their race.
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