Nevin and Corissa sat on the ground to rest, leaning on opposite sides of a burr oak, when Zael brought Anson and Orris to join them. Zael knelt on one knee and spoke in a rare whisper, which Nevin took to mean their situation warranted some care over detection. “It is less than a league to the Grayflood River and we have an hour of daylight left,” the Elf-Lord spoke softly. “I am going ahead to survey the Red Shirts and have asked Orris to accompany me. The rest of you can remain here and recover from your trek. Brune will stay with you.”
As they exchanged nods, Nevin recognized Brune as one who was frequently at Zael’s side.
Nevin, who was not about to disagree with the suggestion that they stay put, gave a weak wave as Zael disappeared into the trees without a sound. Orris followed closely behind, his sword bobbing as he tried to keep pace on cramped legs.
Nevin turned his attention to Corissa and both realized at the same time they were very thirsty. Anson agreed that he could use a drink, too. The elf, Brune, instinctively understood their need. In somewhat stilted use of common speech, he said he would show them where they could get a drink.
Both Nevin and Corissa were practiced at conversing with some of the elves by this time, and they understood that Brune wanted them to follow him.
Brune took a step and waited for the humans to rise, then said something about how unpleasant it must be for humans to have such heavy feet. Nevin and Corissa replaced their footwear and painfully righted themselves with a hand from Anson. Brune took the lead and the three humans followed him until they came to a nearby tiny rivulet that barely flowed. Mosquitoes buzzed annoyingly around them.
“Take water only from top. See?” The elf set down his bow and quiver, knelt on both knees and used his hands to sweep away some flotsam and scoop small amounts of water just at the surface. Nevin understood the point of the demonstration as a technique for avoiding potentially unhealthy sediment or floating debris, but he wondered if Brune thought this advice was necessary because humans were as slow-witted as they were slow-footed.
After drinking their fill, they started to leave when Brune alerted and motioned for them to stand still. Anson was the second to alert, then the others. They all responded to a strong odor carried by the breeze.
“What is that awful sm—” Nevin did not finish his question when they were suddenly confronted with the source of the odor. Stepping from between the trees was a large scaly animal, about the size of a pony. In its mouth was the badly blistered carcass of a deer.
“What the hell is that?” Nevin called.
“Dragon,” said Brune, who had recovered his bow and nocked an arrow. “Do not move. If it attacks, then run different ways. I will stay. You will escape.”
A dragon? Though Nevin was coming to terms with the enigma of spellcasting, the appearance of a mythical beast actually annoyed him, until he took a good look at it.
The “dragon” dropped the deer carcass and nonchalantly stared at the two-legged creatures, occasionally blinking an eye and moving its head as if to examine each of them. It flitted a long forked tongue to taste their presence. The scaly skin, short toe-nailed legs and darting forked tongue marked this animal as a reptile. Nevin thought it looked a lot like a very large monitor lizard, except it had a membranous hood, currently retracted, and a longer neck. The animal picked up the carcass and rapidly shook its head, though it appeared to be more of a yawn than a gesture of aggression. With the yawn came a repeat of the odor, but this time it was so strong it caused them to turn their heads and cover their noses. Nevin was struck with a recollection.
“I know that smell,” Nevin said quietly, not wanting to disturb the animal. “That’s formic acid. This animal secretes formic acid. We don’t want any contact with that stuff.”
Nevin immediately realized the absurdity in his understatement. Any contact at all with this carnivore would be dangerous, but formic compounds were especially corrosive to flesh. Many animals and plants produced formicary substances for defensive purposes, like some ants and bees, but this reptile was more formidable than any swarm of insects. The affect of this animal’s secretions was evident from the deer carcass, which looked like it was burned with cold fire. Nevin would later enjoy this discovery as a basis for the mythical fire of dragon’s breath, but at the time he was more concerned for the safety of his companions.
“What should we do?” whispered Corissa.
“I shoot. You run,” said Brune as he raised his bow. One arrow would do little damage to this sturdy animal, but it was clear that the elf had decided to draw the dragon’s attention and allow the humans to flee. Before Brune could release the shaft, his bowstring snapped.
“It is not necessary to draw the animal’s blood. It would not attack with Anson in your company.” The voice came from a man standing twenty feet to their right. He had appeared with a suddenness that even startled Brune.
“Who are you?” Corissa asked.
“I am Hillister.” He was a normal looking man, light skinned with very short hair, almost to the point of baldness, and very lean features. He wore a tan robe, sashed at the middle with a white belt made of rope, and was barefoot. It was difficult to estimate his age, though he was clearly not a young man. In fact, Nevin thought he appeared almost ageless with no facial wrinkles or other common signs of aging.
“Leave us,” Hillister spoke firmly to the dragon and further bid its departure with a wave of his hand. The dragon took a step and hesitated, then made another wide-mouthed yawn and shook its head.
“All right. Take the carcass. It will do the deer little good to leave it. Then be off with you.”
At Hillister’s command, the dragon picked up the remains of the deer and sauntered off. The stranger walked over and shared a brief stare with Anson, although the man calling himself Hillister showed no emotion and barely blinked.
“Did you sever the elf’s bowstring by magery?” Anson asked.
Hillister nodded.
“Most mages are known to me, but you are not. Are you of this land?”
“I was born in Antrim like you, Anson. We have much in common, including our love for this land and its people. Like you, I also want them to be saved from the horror of this interminable war.” Nevin could detect only the barest hint of emotion in those weighty words.
“If you are a mage and born of Antrim, yet I do not know of your name or face—are you…a High Mage?” Anson reeled at this thought.
“We have been called that, among other things.”
“We? Then there are other High Ones?” Anson asked.
“Yes, but that it unimportant to you at present.”
Corissa stepped forward and said, “We need to get to the city of Taunton and meet with King Meire. Can you help us?”
“I know of your mission, Lady, but I am forbidden to help you. You must help yourselves.”
Nevin deluged himself with questions. How did this man know of their affairs and just what did he mean by acknowledging himself to be a “high” mage? And why would Anson’s presence make any difference to a hungry reptile? Most of all, he was perturbed at this man’s cryptic refusal to help them.
“Anson is an accomplished mage himself,” Corrissa sneered. “If you are one of his kind, why won’t you help us? Couldn’t you do that ‘deliverance’ with us?”
“We know of Anson’s skills. He has powers, great powers. So does your so-called sage here, though in raw form. But we are obligated not to interfere with this struggle between Antrim and Gilsum. Besides, the deliverance spells are not for such casual use. It has brought two men here who are out of their place, and you, Nevin Reasoner, have used this spellwork frivolously on a dog. You are both forbidden to invoke any further deliverance spells, though others remain available to you.”
“How do you know all that?” asked Nevin, visibly annoyed. “And what did you mean about the dragon not harming us because Anson was here? And how could you know about me?”
“You can discover the answers to these q
uestions later, but now you must focus your energies on the obstacle presented by the Gilsum army ahead of you. If you like, I am allowed to describe their actions although Zael will have discovered it all by now.”
With carefully chosen responses, Hillister confirmed that Orris’ guess had been correct. The Gilsum army was preparing to cross the river and march through the Elvenwood to eventually storm Sartell. It was an ill-advised effort, based on their assumption that the Elvenwood would be as manageable as other forests. The army’s main general and his officers underestimated the density of the Wood and made no allowance for Zael and the Elvenkind, whom they regard as a few powerless sprites, if they would even encounter them.
It started to grow dark and Brune became anxious about their rendezvous with Zael. Hillister agreed that their conversation was done for now and they must return to their camp, for they had much planning to do. Following Brune, the group departed. Hillister watched them leave without a wave or a spoken farewell. When Nevin looked back at the spot where the strange man had been standing, he was gone.
* * *
Zael was growing concerned about the absence of Brune and the three humans. The proximity of the intruding Red Shirts and the likelihood of battle made the Elf-Lord even more insistent that his orders be followed to the letter. When the missing group returned, Zale scolded the young elf for allowing the group to wander off. Nevin wanted to intervene on Brune’s behalf, but thought it wiser to stay out of it.
After the rebuke, Brune responded with a few words which Nevin could not understand, but which definitely startled Zael.
Turning sharply to Anson, the Elf-Lord asked, “Who did you meet?” Anson explained it was a man who called himself Hillister and acknowledged he was a High Mage.
Zael did not seem relieved at this news. “There are High Ones, we know. They live in a secluded region and do not interfere with us, being neither friendly nor unfriendly. On only two occasions have I met one. It is most extraordinary that a High One has taken an interest. Tell me all that was said.”
They sat on the ground and formed a small circle where Anson recounted their experience with the dragon and conversation with Hillister. Zael acknowledged the report and ordered that everyone eat and drink their fill from the best of their provisions. The Elf-Lord remained pensive and consulted off to the side with Orris and Brune while the others ate from a hastily prepared meal. Shortly, Zael announced his plans.
“The Red Shirts have only a few small boats to move their large army across the Grayflood, so they have built two rafts from felled trees and strung a heavy rope across the river to guide the rafts. With this arrangement, they could move all their men and provisions across in one day.”
“What do you plan to do?” asked Corissa.
“We have a plan to prevent them from entering the Wood, should they succeed in crossing all their men. I will arrange my elves in a wide half-circle surrounding the point where they have chosen to enter the Wood. We will hide where they will not see or reach us. When the soldiers march forth, my archers will cut them down. Should any get through, we will attack them singly while hidden by groundcover and slash their legs as they march.”
“What do you want us to do?” Anson asked, his face blanched over the certainty of bloodshed. Nevin knew Anson well enough by this time to understand how the mage felt about this talk of planned mayhem. Nevin, himself, was disturbed by Zael’s plan that many men would die, but the Gilsum soldiers were as yet unseen and Nevin’s concern over their fate was stifled by his need to see to their own safety.
Zael answered, “Orris has agreed to stand with me for council. Corissa should not be seen or engaged in the fighting, so Nevin should stand with her to the side. However, I would ask you, Anson, to use your spellwork to upset their rafts as they try to cross the river.”
Their responses varied. Orris showed the grim face of a veteran soldier planning for battle. Anson fretted over the impending fight and the need to complete their journey to the Gilsum capitol. Corissa was piqued that she was singled out to be protected. Nevin was fearful about the safety of all of them, which seemed an incongruously odd reaction by such an imposing man.
Zael responded first to Corissa, “Lady, my suggestion to hide you from view is not for the reason you suspect. It is not your bravery or courage that I question. If you, a Gilsum woman, are seen, you will draw much attention. You will lose your secrecy and your mission will be greatly jeopardized.” Corissa pursed her lips, but a nod acknowledged this point.
Zael turned to Anson and offered an unusual gesture of deference, a concession to a human not seen before. “I know that you have a reverence for the lives of others, Anson, and I would understand if you refuse my request for spellwork.”
Anson quietly replied, subdued by the inevitability of armed conflict. “Corissa says this river is cold, swift and deep. If the rafts are upset, the soldiers will be thrown into the water and many would drown. I am sorry, my friend, but I cannot contribute to such an act. How could I convince Meire and Lucan to stop their murderous actions if I was willing to do the same. Is there no other way to avoid this battle? Could we not talk to them? Appeal to them not to enter your Wood? I would be willing to go to their camp.”
“That is an honorable intention, my human friend, and also what I expected from you. But it would be certain death for you to show yourself, even if they did not discover you to be a mage.”
Orris stepped over and put his hand on Anson’s shoulder. “You are a persuasive man, Anson, but those soldiers will follow orders and not be stopped by reason or pity.”
“Orris is right,” said Zael. “I ask that you stand to the side with Nevin and Corissa. It would sadden me to have such a noble man suffer harm.” Turning to the others, Zael continued. “Anson will not take a weapon, but what of you Nevin? And Corissa? Would you like weapons in the event that you are overrun?”
Corissa said she already had a dagger and that was all she wanted. Nevin was oddly at a loss to answer the question about arming himself, but vaguely reasoned out that he would not do well with a short weapon like a sword. If any soldier got close to him, Nevin knew he did not have the skills to survive hand-to-hand combat. His lack of experience also ruled out a bow, so he asked for some kind of staff. At least he could keep an attacker at bay until help might arrive.
Zael said their requests would be met and added darkly, “The rigor of the day’s journey has wearied me, as it has you. We must all get a full night’s sleep. In the morning, we must be prepared to fight.
Nevin did not expect to hear Zael admit fatigue, but the Elf-Lord’s affirmation of the need for battle was even more disturbing. This clearly meant that men would die and he could see no way to avoid it.
From outside the glade, Gren watched through the trees and listened to their council. He could not understand all the words, but he could tell from the faces that something ominous was going on. In particular, there was something in the mage’s face that made the droll uneasy.
Chapter 6
Anson’s decision
Anson lay wide awake on his bedroll, rethinking the need to strike off on his own. Almost hoping for something to distract him, the night passed quietly except for the faint sleep sounds of his three human companions. Even with a hundred elves retired about the camp, the night was darkly muted. A dozen sentries were as noiseless as their sleeping comrades. Anson worried that if he left now, he would easily be discovered. On the other hand, even a successful departure would be dangerous. Very dangerous.
Every attempt to think through the situation ended with the same conclusion: It fell to him to take the next step before the main body of soldiers crossed the river. Anson had to find a way to prevent the Gilsum army from entering the Elvenwood. A clandestine departure toward the red-shirted army might look like an act of treason. In a way, maybe it was treason because he meant to warn the Gilsum side of the elves’ ambush. Has such a risk become so necessary?
To Anson, neither army was fighti
ng a just cause. They had become so entrenched in age-long battle that their enmity had become the foremost business of each kingdom. For many years, there were only small detachments of soldiers that fought in “civilized” fashion with ritualized skirmishes that caused few deaths, but that had changed. Many soldiers have since died in battle, forcing the armies to enlist ever younger recruits until mere boys were conscripted. Widowhood multiplied while the birthrate declined, leaving too few workers to adequately carry on the business of subsistence. Farms became poorly tended. Banditry appeared. Neighbors turned away from neighbors. When his village of Huxley was attacked, even Anson was put in a life and death struggle with a Gilsum soldier, forcing the mage to use a death spell. Reverent for life, he never deliberately injured another person, nor would he even sacrifice animals for food. He was too ashamed to tell anyone about his despicable act; he could not settle his own mind over how easily events unfolded so that even he would kill another man.
The decision was clear. He had to try to avoid bloodshed.
The young mage fretted, wondering whether his friends would understand that his departure was not a faithless act. One at a time, his friends came to mind as they slept soundly around him. Among them, Orris was the only one who had known Anson long enough to fully understand the mage’s decision. Surely, his old friend would know that Anson could not simply stand aside while hundreds of men were slaughtered.
What of the others who had not known Anson before this sojourn with the elves?
The tall man, Nevin Reasoner, was either sage or mage or possibly both, so shouldn’t he understand? Though he stood over six feet in height, he would not use his size or strength for a physical advantage. Like Anson, he was a man of mental pursuits who also deplored the degradation of war. Formerly a “professor” of what seemed to be obscure sciences in a far off land, Nevin must understand Anson’s decision. After all, this man had put aside his scientific biases and agreed to travel by spell to Antrim and aid Anson in this cause. Had Nevin come to know Anson well enough to understand that a warning to the Gilsum general was not a traitorous act?
The Chronicles of Nevin Reasoner: The Complete Duology Page 22