"I think it is the correct approach," answered Rigal. "The Dielderal have never truly been our enemies, but they have thought that they were, just as they thought the dwarves were their enemies. From what I have learned so far in the Elfwoods, the Empire of Barouk is the true enemy of all elves."
"Turning them to our side would certainly be a great help," interjected Gerant. "I just don't know if it will work."
"We have to try," Rigal said. "We are going to end up having to escape from this land in any event, but I would prefer not to have to do it with a thousand of my brothers chasing me."
A few moments later, Prince Saratoma returned with a weathered old man. His white hair was thin and wispy, and his body was bent over with age.
"This is Legaulle," declared Prince Saratoma. "He is the historian. Tell him what you have told me."
Rigal repeated the statements that he had made to the prince. The old man lifted the medallion hanging from Rigal's neck and examined it closely. Rigal felt a charge in the air as the old man mumbled some words, and he knew that magic was being used.
"Where did you find this?" asked Legaulle.
"I did not find it," answered Rigal. "It is a family heirloom."
"Nonsense," retorted the historian. "Prince Geltim died at the hands of the dwarves."
"Yet his body was never found?" asked Rigal. "Nor were the bodies of his band of elves found? Nor the bodies of the dwarves he was chasing? As I have already said, both Prince Geltim's party and the dwarves they were chasing passed through a Junction to a different Universe. They never returned, and their people live on to this day."
"How does one pass through a Junction?" asked the historian. "How do we prove other Universes exist? You are asking me to change history on the basis of an old medallion."
"So the medallion is real?" asked Prince Saratoma.
"It is genuine," nodded the historian, "but the story is unbelievable. Prove that there are other Universes."
"Junctions no longer exist," stated Rigal. "A little more than twenty years ago, all of the Universes merged into one."
The historian raised an eyebrow, but he did not repeat his assertion of disbelief. "Was this when the Gloom came upon us?" he asked.
"The Gloom?" echoed Rigal before understanding what the historian meant. "Oh, yes. Only we called it the Darkness. It began with the collapsing of the Universes by an evil mage. It ended three years ago with the death of that mage."
"What is the connection?" asked Prince Saratoma. "What does the Gloom have to do with the medallion?"
"What do you know about the Universes as they existed?" the historian asked Rigal, ignoring Prince Saratoma's questions. "Were they the same or different from each other?"
"Mostly they were the same," answered Rigal, "but there were some differences as well. Where there were differences, the collapsing caused havoc and destruction. Where Elderal existed in one Universe, a human city existed in another. The merging of those two civilizations caused many deaths. Although I have not seen it myself, I understand that Sorelderal merged with a land ruled by goblins. The Sorelderal elves had to leave when their city was destroyed."
The historian nodded with satisfaction. "You know a great deal for one so young," he stated. "There were terrible changes in this land as well. I have heard that one of the horse countries completely disappeared, never to be seen again."
"Horse countries?" echoed Rigal. "I am not familiar with that term."
"I am pleased to hear that," smiled the historian, "for if you had heard of it, you would be nothing more than a spy from the empire. How is it that you have the medallion of Prince Geltim? You say it is a family heirloom, but that means that you are from a royal family."
Prince Rigal had not realized that he had divulged more than he had planned to. He swallowed hard and nodded.
"I am Prince Rigal," he declared, "son of King Gondoral of Glendor, descendent of Prince Geltim."
"Well, Prince Rigal of Glendor," smiled the historian, "you have managed to get yourself into quite a fix. I do not think the Baroukans will extend the royal carpet for you and your friends."
"I do not want them to know my bloodline," Prince Rigal promptly replied. "That must not be revealed to them."
"Don't they already know?" asked the historian. "Surely, it was not mere chance that caused them to capture you."
"They did not capture us," replied Prince Rigal. "We came here on our own."
"You what?" gasped Prince Saratoma. "Weren't you escorted here today by soldiers?"
"No," Prince Rigal replied. "We were escorted by a young elven couple from a village far to the west. The empire does not know about us."
"Tomar and Laring?" asked Legaulle.
"Yes," answered Prince Rigal.
"I saw them leaving the Heart," the historian smiled. "They are recent returnees themselves. Do they know how you came here?"
"No," Prince Rigal replied. "I did not lie to them, but I did allow them to believe what they wished. They know where we are from, but not that we came here on purpose."
"You should have them brought back here, Prince Saratoma," said the historian. "I don't think we want any word of their existence to spread."
The Dielderal prince opened his mouth to ask why, but the historian waved him off. He turned and ran out of the hut. The historian did not speak until the prince returned.
"It is just a precaution," explained Legaulle, "but I think the king should make the decision on how to proceed with these three."
"Then you believe them?" asked the prince.
"I do," nodded the historian. "Their words explain a number of mysteries that have plagued me for some time."
"But why did you come?" asked Prince Saratoma. "You haven't answered that yet."
"We share a common enemy," replied Prince Rigal. "Our homeland is threatened by attack from people in this land. I can only assume that it is the Empire of Barouk, as they seem to be the force with ships to sail the ocean. We have come to learn as much as we can about our enemy so that we might survive their attack."
"You have picked a strange place to start your search for information," the prince responded. "The Dielderal have no part in such war plans."
"There you are mistaken," frowned Prince Rigal. "Some Dielderal recently massacred an entire human village."
Both the historian and the prince gasped in surprise.
"You must be mistaken," Prince Saratoma said. "Why would any of our people go back and kill human settlers?"
"The elves of our land now live in harmony with the humans and the dwarves," declared Prince Rigal. "The attack was to drive a wedge between the races. The Zarans hope to divide our people to defeat them easier."
"Elves, dwarves, and humans?" echoed the historian. "That is nothing short of amazing. How did the wars between the dwarves and elves end?"
"With information," answered Prince Rigal. "The warfare between the races was started based upon errors, and mistaken histories compounded the problem. Once everyone understood that their histories were in error, the only reason to continue fighting was false hatred. That false hatred was dispelled when everyone was shamed by the actions of their ancestors. I will not say that the reconciliation was without strife, but it has worked out well enough. I grew up with a desire to eliminate all dwarves, but I have ended up with a dwarf as one of my best friends."
"Unbelievable," commented the Dielderal prince. "I do not mean I doubt your words," he added quickly, "but it is hard for me to picture elves and dwarves in harmony."
"You have never even seen a dwarf," chuckled the historian. "You have only heard the stories, which we now know to be false. So much of our history is torn to shreds with this news," he sighed. "One can only wonder how things would have been different had we known the truth at the time."
"We cannot change the past," stated Prince Rigal, "but we can mend the future. The Dielderal should no longer consider other elves their enemies. We are all brothers now."
"Yet you cla
im that Dielderal are attacking humans in your world," frowned Prince Saratoma. "How can this be?"
"Do not forget those who never returned," the historian said softly. "Some of them have taken up with our human masters."
"But to kill for them?" balked the prince.
"They would kill their own kind if ordered to do so," declared Legaulle. "We must not look upon them any differently than we do the soldiers of the empire."
"As our masters?" balked the prince. "I think not. It is bad enough suffering under the heel of the empire, but I will not stand for renegades ruling over us."
"Careful," the historian warned softly. "You are developing an attitude much too similar to your grandfather's when he was your age. His foolish actions cost him the life of his friends and his father."
"His father was killed by the Baroukans," frowned the prince.
"Indeed he was," the historian said with sadness, "but not for anything he did. He gave his own life to pay for Prince Elengal's rebellion. It was a hard lesson for your grandfather to learn, and one he is ashamed for you to know, but it is the reason for his strictness in ruling over the Elfwoods. He will not stand for any talk of rebellion, not even from his grandson."
"Or his own son?" the prince asked with suspicion.
"Or his own son," the historian nodded sadly. "Your father had much the same spirit that you do. It cost him his life."
"I want to know the true story of my father's death," demanded the prince.
"I am forbidden to discuss it," replied the historian. "Matters of the royal family must be discussed with the king."
"Then I shall demand it from him," stated the prince.
"I suggest you refrain from asking," advised Legaulle. "Some things are best left as they are."
"I must know," the prince stated adamantly.
The historian shrugged and turned to Prince Rigal. "The king will not be back for a few days," he said. "I would like to spend those days with the three of you. I think we can both benefit from the sharing of knowledge. You can advise me of the true path of history, and I can enlighten you about the Baroukans."
* * *
The caravan pulled to the side of the Lombardi Road where the Ramaldi Road split off. Edmond immediately began issuing orders, and the caravan split in two. The three women exited Sidney's wagon and strode over to where Sidney was saying goodbye to the Knights of Alcea.
"This is the moment of our parting," said Sidney. "Are you sure that you wish to continue through the pass? You are most welcome to join the queen and me in Ur. It is lovely this time of year."
"Our futures lie along different paths," smiled Garth Shado. "I have very much enjoyed our time with you, and I shall never forget you, but we must journey to the Sea of Tears."
"But you don't even know if you can get through Ramaldi Pass," interjected Queen Romani.
"We will get through," Garth stated with determination. "One way or another. Will your trip to Ur be troublesome?"
"It should not be," answered Sidney Mercado. "No self-respecting bandit would waste his time up there, but the same is not true for where you are heading. You will find that the inhabitants of the Dark Forest and the Kyber Woods are not very friendly at all. They will not be Federation soldiers in disguise, but true bandits who will not want to leave any survivors behind. Their quest is for gold, not anarchy."
"They will not fare any better than the ones in Karamin," winked Garth.
"I suppose they won't," chuckled the merchant. "Edmond is only going as far as Zinbar. You will be on your own after that. I would advise you to spend all your time with Edmond and learn what you can from him. Travel in the Federation is not easy for strangers, even with the documents I have provided you. You will have no friends there. The bandits will try to kill you, and I suspect the Federation soldiers are already looking for you. The merchants and innkeepers will sell information about you if they see the size of your gold pouch, so be prepared before you open it."
"We will be careful," Garth promised.
"Should you ever decide to return to Vinafor after I have regained my throne," smiled Queen Romani, "I would be most pleased to make you a real general."
"I appreciate the gesture," smiled Garth, "but my plans lie in another direction. I think if you nurture that young colonel, you will find him a capable leader of men. Certainly his loyalty will never be in doubt."
"Colonel Pfaff will make a fine general," the queen agreed, "but General Blackmoor will always be welcome in my court. Travel safely."
Sidney and the queen turned and walked to his private wagon. With a nod from Edmond, the group with Sidney's wagon started rolling northward along the Lombardi Road.
"I have arranged places for Kalina and Natia on other wagons," Edmond declared. "As soon as they are situated, we will start rolling. I would enjoy the company of you and Tedi if that is acceptable to you."
"Most acceptable," replied Garth. "Your father told me to pick your brain as we travel."
"I thought he might have," laughed the head warrior. "I will share what I know about the countries of the Federation."
"There is one question I have about the countries on this side of the Barrier," interjected Kalina. "The map in Sidney's wagon had a large area called the Great Meadow. I am wondering why Sidney did not take the queen across that. It appears as if it would have cut days off of the trip to Ur."
"The Great Meadow is an endless plain of grasslands," explained Edmond. "There are no majors rivers flowing through it, and trees are practically nonexistent. One wouldn't even be able to build a simple cabin without wood. Tyronia has infringed upon the edge a bit for farming where the Kanton River irrigates it, but the rest of it is basically a wasteland. No one lives there, and no one travels there."
Kalina nodded in appreciation and then climbed onto the wagon assigned to her. Natia ran to her wagon, and Edmond gave the signal to start rolling. The caravan turned off the Lombardi Road and started up the Ramaldi Road towards the pass where the Vinafor army faced the Federation.
Chapter 27
Tale of the Fathers
King Elengal was weary upon returning to the Heart. His visit with the Emperor of Barouk had not been pleasing. The filth and despair that was ever-present in the cities of the empire always took its toll on the elf, but this particular meeting had held new threats for his people. In addition to the greater work quotas to be imposed at the mines, there was the issue of saboteurs to be dealt with. The elven king could not imagine strange foreigners trying to infiltrate the Elfwoods, but the emperor had stressed his desire to capture them if they should appear. King Elengal ignored the greetings of his people as he made his way through the Heart to his home, his thoughts drifting to the bed waiting for him. He had no sooner entered the building than Prince Saratoma came rushing to meet him.
"Grandfather!" called Prince Saratoma. "I have exciting news."
"The news must wait until the morrow," the king said waving his hand in dismissal. "You are old enough to administer the daily tasks of leadership."
The prince followed his grandfather into his chambers. The old elf sat down on his bed with a weary sigh.
"This news cannot wait," pressed the prince. "We have three new elves in the Heart."
"Good," the king remarked with exhaustion. "They will be needed for the new work schedule. From now on, elves will work six weeks in the mines with only four weeks off. While I nap, you should rework the schedules to reflect the change."
"Six weeks?" the prince echoed with a frown. "That is too much. Our people will not be able to survive them?"
"They can bear it, and they must," scowled the king as he stared at the floor with weariness. "Now leave me in peace."
"I cannot," the prince persisted. "These three newcomers are not our people. They are not Dielderal. You must hear what they have to say."
The king's head snapped up, and he stared at his grandson. "What do you mean that they are not Dielderal?" he asked. "Are they human?"
; "No," answered Prince Saratoma. "They are descendents of Prince Geltim. They have come from another land."
"Prince Geltim has no descendents," stated the king. "He had not taken a wife before the dwarves slaughtered him and his men."
"The dwarves never slaughtered any of them," the prince pointed out. "You must listen to the words of these men. Our histories have been totally false. They know the truth of what happened ages ago."
"You are speaking nonsense," stated the king. "Where are these strangers being kept?"
"I have assigned them to a hut on the edge of the Heart," replied the prince. "It is the last hut before the trail to the west. Shall I send for them?"
"Are you positive that they are not Dielderal?" asked the king.
"I am sure," declared the prince. "There is not the slightest doubt in my mind."
"How did they arrive in the Elfwoods?" asked the king.
"I am not sure," frowned the prince. "They arrived in this land by ship, but I did not think to ask where they landed. Does it matter?"
"Everything matters," retorted the king. "You still have much to learn about the responsibilities of leading our people. I will speak to these newcomers in the morning. Now leave me in peace."
Prince Saratoma's brow creased heavily as his grandfather reclined on the bed. He could not believe that the king could be so exhausted that he did not have time for the greatest piece of news to ever come into the Elfwoods. With disappointment, he strode from the room and exited the building. He thought momentarily about making up the new schedules that the king had demanded, but his heart was not up to the task. Instead, he lounged in the square outside the building housing the king's quarters as the first stars began to appear in the sky above.
The structure dedicated to the royal family of the Dielderal held more than just the king's quarters. The prince also lived in the same building as well as several other elves. In days long gone by, the other elves sharing the building would have been considered guards of the royal family, but such guards were no longer required. Instead those elves were used as runners to deliver important messages from the king. As King Elengal had supposedly succumbed to sleep, the prince's eyes narrowed when one of the elf runners unexpectedly emerged from the building in a hurry. Filled with curiosity, the elven prince trotted after the runner to see whom the king had summoned. When the runner left the Heart, it became clear that the king was not summoning anyone nearby. Prince Saratoma raced after the runner until he caught up.
Final Voyage of the Remora Page 33