Chapter 3
Flare stared in amazement at what was in front of him. The city of Telur stretched across the horizon. Although he was still some distance away, he could tell that the city was many times bigger than Solistine. The buildings were block and most of the roofs were wooden, but he also noticed that some were made of an orange tile. The city had been built in an obvious random manner, with little thought for planning. Buildings had been built right beside other buildings with a completely different type of architecture. Built around the city, was an immense wall. He could see guards walking on the wall at different intervals. The wall was twenty feet high, and made out of huge square blocks of stone. He could see another wall further into the city. Leading down the hill and to the gate was a road that had been used heavily.
It was mid-morning, when he approached the city gates. Like most of the other human cities, the poorer residents of the city lived outside the walls. Makeshift communities had sprung up, with tents and small huts spread along the base of the wall. The smell of smoke hung in the air from the many small cook fires. A few sat along the road and begged for money from those entering the city, but he didn't see anyone giving to the poor, and his heart sank as he watched the misery around him. The people's squalor was starting to make him question his plan. Perhaps his human side wasn't worth learning about.
The city gates were enormous and made out of steel and wood. Guards were stationed on both sides of the gate, and were scanning people as they entered. The guards had to be more for appearances than anything else, after all, what would they be able to spot in the huge stream of people entering the city. The sheer size of everything was overwhelming.
Flare moved out of the throng of people and stopped next to the guards. “Excuse me. Can you tell me how to reach the residence of the elven ambassador, Henotairin?” He asked of a guard standing to the left of the massive gate. There were several guards there, but the one that he spoke to was in the front and looked to be in charge.
The guard was wearing chain mail armor under a loose fitting black tunic emblazoned with the yellow sun of Telur. His hair was brown and came down just below his ears. He was dark complected and muscular and wore a sword on his left side. The guard looked Flare over before answering. “I can, but what is your business with the elven ambassador?”
Flare was momentarily taken back by the guard's question. He wanted to be careful about what he told the guard, but he would need someone's help to find the ambassador. “I, I have personal business with Henotairin.”
“With the strained relations that currently exist between us and the elves; I cannot direct every person who has a complaint to the elven representative. If you have a complaint, you can take it to officer Seran. He’s at ...”
Flare realized that he was being mistaken for a human and pulled the hood back on his cloak. The soldier at once recognized him for half-elven.
The soldier's eyes narrowed, “Oh, Uh, my apologies. I didn’t realize that you were elven. Are you on official business?”
Not wanting to divulge his identity, Flare lied hoping that it sounded convincing. “I'm a courier. I have a message for Henotairin, which pertains to official elven business.” He said, smiling and trying not to stumble over the words.
Flare’s answer was good enough, because the guard quickly lost interest. “Wait here.” The guard said, turning and entering the small guardhouse.
The guard returned, leading another soldier. The second soldier was much younger than the first, but he was attired in the same type of armor. He was shorter and leaner as well.
“Jarum will escort you.” The first guard said to Flare. He then turned to the younger guard, “Jarum, after you escort him to the elven ambassador, return here immediately.”
“Yes sergeant,” was the only response from the younger, fidgeting guard.
The first guard walked back toward his post, leaving Flare alone with Jarum. The young soldier visible relaxed. “I'm going to take the long way, but we’ll avoid the marketplace. There are too many people there right now.”
“Fine.” Flare said, climbing down from his horse. He pulled his hood back over his head, and followed Jarum. He had assumed that since they were taking the ‘long way,' there wouldn’t be that many people on the streets, but just the opposite was true. The streets were packed with people going about their business. He was amazed at how humans went about daily life. Elves were calm in public, but the humans showed very little restraint. He heard one human male cursing another, and saw children chasing one another through the streets. Merchants were hawking their wares and his senses could barely take in all the sights and sounds.
Jarum led Flare through the city, and before long they passed through the inner wall that he had seen earlier. They crossed an ornamental bridge that spanned a small river. The river seemed to separate the wealthy section of town from the poorer side of town. There weren't any shops on this side of the bridge, as they were in a residential area. The houses were enormous. Most of them had large walls, so he couldn’t see very much of the courtyards. Many of the houses were two stories, with large balconies that over-looked the courtyards. Most of them flew the flag of Telur, which was a golden yellow sun on a black background.
Jarum stopped at a house that had to be the elven ambassador's residence. The rest of the houses had wide open courtyards, but this house had a courtyard full of trees and shrubs.
He turned to Flare. “This is it. If there is nothing else, I’ll leave you.” His comment was more of a question than a statement.
“No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” Flare said, staring at the mansion. He barely noticed as Jarum turned and trotted away.
Breathing deeply, and beginning to get nervous again, Flare approached the gates. As he did so, guards ran out to bar his path.
“Halt. This is elven property.” The guard on Flare’s left said. He appeared to be in charge. He was slim, with blond hair that hung down below his shoulders.
Once again, he was being mistaken for human. Sighing, Flare reached up and pulled his hood back to expose his face and head. “I am elven, and I request an audience with Henotairin.”
“What is your business with the ambassador?” The guard on the left asked.
Flare's eyes narrowed, he had not expected a problem getting into see Henotairin. In Solistine, he had always tended to be somewhat timid, but after the last two weeks of traveling he was in no mood for questions. He had hoped to keep his identity a secret until he saw the ambassador, but it appeared that he would have no choice. “My name is Flaranthlas Eldanari. I am ninth in line for the elven throne, and I am in no mood to wait. I have had a very long journey, and I am extremely tired.”
Flare’s words had a profound effect on the young guard. His eyes initially registered surprise, followed immediately by recognition. He apparently had seen Flare before, and a little fear crept into eyes. Flare had been around the elven court enough, to know how to give orders. He just wasn’t used to having them followed.
“I am sorry sir. I did not recognize you. I was not aware of your visit.”
“There was a reason for that. Try to keep my arrival quiet.” Flare said, trying to act aloof. “Now, is Henotairin here, or not.”
“Yes sir. I’ll escort you to his office.”
Flare retrieved his saddlebags from the mare. “Have somebody see to my horse.”
The guard barked an order, and then turned back to Flare. “If you will follow me, sir.”
He led Flare up the steps, and into the palace. The elven palace was beautiful decorated, but it was definitely human designed and built. Directly inside the doorway, was a tee shaped hall. There were passages to the left and the right, and also straight forward. The ceilings were a good ten feet high, with painted murals on them. Plants decorated the hallways and the various rooms, but the pictures were not as splendid as those in the elven palace.
They turned right and walked down the hallway, and then they climbed a spiraling staircase t
o the second floor.
At top of the stairs, Flare found himself in a waiting room. This room resembled the rooms downstairs, except there were soft couches instead of hard benches. A young elven male was seated behind a desk. He was slightly shorter than most elves, and he had pale skin and very little muscle tone. He stood up as they approached his desk.
“Sergeant, what is going on here?” The young elf asked.
The elven guard stood at attention, “Sir, uh...”
Flare stood there for a moment, before he realized that the guard was stalling for him. He then spoke up, “What is your name?”
The young elf seemed a bit taken back by the abruptness of Flare’s question. “My name is Narion. Who are you, and what is your business here?”
Once again, Flare did not appreciate being questioned. “Narion, my name is Flaranthlas Eldanari. I am the king’s grandson, and I need to speak to Henotairin, immediately.”
Narion seemed to be appropriately shocked. Some of the color drained from his face, and he glanced back and forth to the sergeant. “I, Uh. I ..”
Flare interrupted him, “Please notify Henotairin of my arrival.”
“Uh, yes sir. Excuse me; I will let him know you're here.” Narion turned and disappeared through the doorway.
A couple of minutes later, he reappeared with an elder elf. Flare recognized Henotairin, whom he had met at the palace. Henotairin would soon be celebrating his seven hundred and fiftieth name day, but he looked remarkably healthy. He had white closely cut hair, and a beard. His skin was pale but wrinkled, and he was wearing a white tunic, with a slender rope type belt.
His eyes went straight to Flare, and shock was evident on his face. “Flaranthlas, you look horrible. What are you doing here?” With a start, he seemed to suddenly realize how he had spoken. “I apologize for the way I spoke, but why are you here?”
Flare moved toward him, “Let’s step into your office. I would like to speak to you in private.”
Henotairin seemed a little taken back, but he simply nodded and led the way.
Flare was exhausted and mentally drained, but he continued the plan that he had started. “It has been a very long journey, so I’ll be brief. I need for you to schedule me a meeting with King Darion, as soon as possible.”
“King Darion!” Henotairin repeated, confused, “I'm sorry my prince, but I must know what this pertains to. And I must also ask why you traveled here with no escort. That seems awful unusual.” Henotairin said, sitting down on a small couch.
Flare sighed, “I started out with an escort, but Lenturin was forced to return after an encounter with a creature at Tranquility Lake. He was my only escort, because we hoped to avoid unnecessary scrutiny.” Flare paused, the anxiety settling in again. “I have traveled here to ask King Darion’s permission to join the guardians.”
Henotairin was speechless for a few moments. He finally managed too ask, “The king approved this?”
“Of course. Grandfather was not pleased, but I convinced him. You see, I have very few options open to me in elven life, so this was an excellent life-choice for me. Besides, it is hoped that I can be a bridge between the two races. After all, I am the primary reason for the terrible relations between our two peoples.” He was getting excited, stumbling over his words at he spoke. He forced himself to slow down, “So, how soon can you arrange for the meeting?”
Henotairin sat quietly for a moment, “Well, king Darion usually plans his meetings in advance, and only emergency meetings are made as they are needed.” He paused, his brow wrinkling in thought. “Seeing how you are an important member of royalty, I might could arrange for a meeting this evening. The king does not do very much late in the day.” He nodded at Flare's clothes, “But before you can meet the king, you are going to have to bathe and change.”
Flare smiled. A hot bath sounded great. “Excellent. A bath and a nap on a soft bed, sounds really good.”
Henotairin stood and ushered Flare toward the door. “Fine. I’ll have Narion take you to a guest room, while I send a message to the palace.”
When they walked through the door, Narion was once again sitting behind the desk. He immediately stood when Henotairin approached.
“Narion, take Flaranthlas to a guest room, and arrange a hot bath for him.”
“Yes sir,” was the only reply.
Flare followed Narion through the hallways, ignoring the surroundings as they walked. The plan seemed to be working and he was dreaming about his future with the guardians, when Narion stopped walking in front a large wooden door. He had led Flare to a luxurious bedroom. A tan, plush carpet covered the floor. There was a grand window overlooking the courtyard, as well as a gigantic four poster bed. There was a door on the opposite side of the room, which Flare assumed was the bath room. Beside the door, there was a desk and a chair.
“Sir, I had anticipated your desire for a bath, so the water is already hot. Do you need some more appropriate clothes?”
Flare sat on the edge of the bed, “Yes. All I brought with me were traveling clothes.”
“Well, I probably will have trouble finding anything in your size, but I’ll try.” He paused, “Do you require anything else?”
Flare answered with a wave of his hand, “Just some peace and quiet.” Narion half-bowed leaving the room.
He walked into the huge bath room, and immediately began undressing. The bath room had a tile floor, and a huge circular, sunken tub. Sliding into the tub, he groaned in pleasure. He took his time in the warm water of the bath. After finishing his bath, he closed the drapes and climbed into the bed and fell fast asleep.
When Narion woke him, he could tell that it had gotten darker outside.
“Sir, you have a meeting with King Darion soon.” Narion said, laying out clothes on the chair. “I couldn’t find any leggings, but I did manage to find a nice pair of trousers. I also found this nice shirt, which should fit you.”
Flare sat up, yawning, “What time is it?” He asked, rubbing his eyes.
“It’s almost sundown, sir. Master Henotairin is waiting for you in the dining room. He assumed that you would want dinner before meeting King Darion.”
Almost as if on cue, Flare’s stomach growled.
Narion led Flare to the dining room, where a modest dinner was set out. Henotairin was already there. They discussed elven matters while Flare ate, since he had not been to Solistine in several years. Flare answered the questions between bites, and actually found himself liking Henotairin. He began to feel a little guilty, knowing that he was lying and using the man.
After dinner, Flare returned to the bedroom and gathered his clothes and equipment. He could have sent Narion, but for some reason he didn't much care for the elf, and so he had decided to go himself. It only took several minutes to get everything, and return to the foyer, where he waited for Henotairin.
“I apologize for making you wait, but I had to perform duties.” Henotairin said, entering the foyer a little breathless. He clapped his hands together and smiled at Flare. “Well, are you ready to meet the king?”
Flare rose to his feet and returned the smile weakly, “Yeah, I'm starting to get a little nervous. What kind of man is he? Do you think that he will be receptive to the idea of me joining the guardians?” He was being honest about getting nervous, his stomach was doing flip-flops and his words were coming out in a rush.
“I do not know, Flare.” Henotairin said, motioning for two elves to take the saddle bags and equipment. He waited for just a moment, as if trying to remember what he had been saying. “Oh yes, the king. King Darion has always been friendly toward the elves, but his advisors do not trust us. Did you know that when King Darion was a prince, he was an ambassador to the elven court? I first met him in King Feilolas’ castle, in Solistine.
King Darion had been at the castle? Flare heart skipped a beat. If King Darion had been to Solistine, perhaps he would be more receptive to Flare’s predicament.
They left the palace and began walking
toward the center of the city. It was already dark, so it was difficult to make out much detail. After they walked a few minutes, Flare could see a wall rising up out of the gloom. At first he thought that the wall was a small one, but it just kept getting bigger. There were no more palaces along the road, but instead there was a wide open area. The wall appeared to be made out of great stone blocks, and easily reached thirty feet high. There was a huge gate that stretched across the entrance to the castle, which he assumed was kept open during the day. There was a smaller entrance to the right of the main gate, which was where Henotairin led Flare.
Henotairin was smiling at Flare’s incredulous look. “That wall is magnificent, isn’t it? I understand that it took a small army of dwarves, as well as some powerful magicians, to build it.”
Flare was quiet as Henotairin led him through the wall and into the courtyard. He was beginning to worry about what would happen if King Darion turned down his request, but it was sort of late to be thinking about that now.
Inside the wall, the palace grounds were beautifully laid out, with trees planted along the walkways and well trimmed lawns. He could see several fountains placed around the courtyard. The courtyard itself was monstrous, being at least five or six hundred yards across. Off to Flare’s left, was a free standing circular tower that rose one hundred feet or so high.
The palace was in the middle of the enclosed area, and was simply breath taking. It was made out of block, which was similar to the wall, except the castle block was whiter. The palace was ancient, with parts of the castle looking like they had just been constructed yesterday and other parts looking like they had been there for a thousand years. There were numerous towers and battlements around the exterior, some of them had banners flapping in the wind. In the dark it was hard to make the pattern out, but he felt confident that the golden sun flew on those banners. Flare could see the lights coming through numerous windows, as well as guards moving along the battlements.
The Guardians: Book One of the Restoration Series Page 5