by A. Giannetti
“Join us,” said the woman softly to Elerian. Her eyes, luminous and green, cast an admiring glance over his fair features and slender, supple form. “It would please me to have an Eirian in our ranks.”
The offer took Elerian by surprise, but recognizing the subtle magic behind the invitation that sought to subvert his will to hers, he hardened his resolve and closed his mind as he had learned to do so long ago during his encounters with the evil mage Drusus and again, more recently, against Eboria.
“Save your spells,” he replied, a hard edge in his clear voice, “for they will do you no good. Unless you are stronger than a dragon, I do not think that you can bend my will to yours.”
The woman laughed, a clear, bewitching sound. “Come with me willingly then, stranger. Ride with us as an equal as we complete our arc through the heavens. A shadow grows in the east that will someday cover this entire realm and all its inhabitants. If you remain hear it will devour you too.”
“Before I give you an answer, tell me who you are and why you are here in this wild place?” replied Elerian, stalling for time.
“I am Laralerian, and this is my company,” replied the rider proudly. “We are the Peregrin. Once every fifty years we come here to hunt the fierce pard, for our king desires its skin which possesses magical powers.”
“Time wastes Lara,” said one of the riders suddenly. “The gate will close at the waning of the moon, only a few days hence. If we cannot slay or capture this half blood creature then let us be on our way.”
“We will leave when I am ready, Fiochmar,” replied Laralerian angrily. “Remember that I traveled the arc of the heavens before you were even born.”
“Did you come from outside?” interrupted Elerian, unable to keep the eagerness out of his voice. Dozens of other questions suddenly crowded his mind. “Does she know the secret of the gates?” he wondered to himself.
“Come with me, and all your questions will be answered,” said Laralerian softly, a tantalizing look in her eyes. “Forget the human woman that you hold in your memory.” A sudden image of Anthea appeared in Elerian’s mind, pale and insignificant in the shadow of the Peregrin’s red-gold beauty.
“She can cast her thoughts and read minds as well as I,” thought Elerian to himself, recognizing at once that the unflattering image had come from Laralerian. In spite of her beauty and his own thirst for new knowledge, he felt no inclination to accept her offer, for there was too much about her that reminded him of Eboria.
“They are both as beautiful as the red gold glory of the rising sun,” he thought to himself, “but like Eboria, I do not think that this woman would keep any promise that she made to me.”
“I cannot break the vow I made to return to my betrothed,” replied Elerian, trying to make his voice sound regretful so as not to offend the Peregrin. The blaze of anger in Laralerian’s eyes told him at once that he had failed
“Stay here then until the shadow takes you and your pale paramour,” replied the woman in a voice that was suddenly harsh and dangerous, a green fire burning in her emerald eyes. “Since you will not accept my companionship, I will leave you with a taste of my wrath instead. From now until your last day you will dream of me and experience regret sharp as razors at what you lost by your foolish decision.”
“It seems my fate to be continually cursed, first by Drusus and now by this red haired sorceress,” thought Elerian wryly to himself when he heard her malediction.
“I will trade you the life of your companion for answers to my questions,” offered Elerian, still hoping that he might gain some knowledge from the Peregrin.
“You may do as you wish with the fool,” replied Laralerian coldly. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the anger vanished from her beautiful face, to be replaced by a calculating look. “If you give me your ring and weapons, however, I will give you the knowledge that you desire,” she said softly, her voice warm and persuasive once more.
“After which you will no doubt take me prisoner,” thought Elerian dryly to himself. He kept his suspicions to himself, however, for he felt that there was no point in further antagonizing this fiery creature from another realm.
“I cannot do that,” he replied politely.
“Then I shall waste no more time on you,” said Laralerian angrily. “Take up the hunt again,” she suddenly commanded the Dwarf. “Let us leave this fool to his doom.”
“There are Dwarves living in the country south of here,” said Elerian quietly to the huntsman. “I will trade the rider I overcame for your freedom if you wish.”
“I am no Dwarf,” said the huntsman proudly. “I am a Kobold and I will stay in the service of my lady until death claims me. I would die away from her beauty.”
“He is wiser than you,” said Laralerian arrogantly to Elerian before whirling her steed around with a firm pull on its reins.
“What of Fiochmar?” asked one of the other riders as Laralerian rode off.
“He can stay here with this fool for all that I care,” she replied callously. Followed by the rest of her small company, she rode after the kobold who, with his hounds, had begun to cast about deeper in the forest for the trail of the leopardi, unaware that the creature had taken to the trees.
“Hopefully, their hunt will take them away from the Dwarf road,” thought Elerian to himself as he watched the Peregrin ride off toward the north. “Who knows what mischief they might cause if they discovered Ascilius’s company.”
He looked down then at Fiochmar who still lay at his feet with Acris’s sharp point pressed against his throat. “Answer my questions and I will give you your freedom,” he said quietly.
“I will say nothing though you torture me day and night,” replied the red haired stranger sullenly.
“Join your company then,” said Elerian, disappointed once more in his quest for knowledge. “I have no further use for you.”
When he withdrew his sword, the Peregrin rose lithely to his feet. After gathering up the pieces of his sword and the shining dart that lay on the ground nearby, he mounted his steed, which stood quietly. close at hand. As he rode away, he cast a dark look at Elerian over his left shoulder.
“You are a fool to let an enemy walk away free,” he said mockingly. “Be assured that I will not make the same mistake if our positions are ever reversed.”
Elerian made no response as the Peregrin rode off after his companions who had already disappeared into the forest.
“A strange people,” he said softly to himself. “They are fair to look upon, but underneath they are hard as Goblins, looking upon mercy as a weakness.”
Elerian started when a familiar voice said softly, “An act of kindness is neither weak nor foolish.” Turning swiftly to his right, Elerian’s heart lifted when he saw Anthea standing there.
“You have come at last,” he said gladly, forgetting both his surroundings and his purpose in the forest at the sight of her. His first impulse was to seize her in his arms, but then his third eye opened, and he saw that her golden shade was veiled in an illusion spell. Extending out through the golden cloak of the illusion was a thin tendril of gold that ended at his right shoulder, carrying her thoughts to his mind. Unable to help feeling disappointed that she had come to him as a wraith again, leaving her body behind, Elerian closed his magical eye so that he might see the illusion she had cast over herself, preferring its beautiful form to her featureless shade.
“I would have come sooner, but I seem to be unable to open the portal between our rings unless I am well rested and you are in danger,” explained Anthea, her fair face mirroring the frustration she felt at being unable to use her new powers fully.
“I shall risk my life every day then, without fail, if that will bring you to my side,” said Elerian lightly.
“Your flattery would be more convincing if I had not seen you flirting with that red-haired sorceress just now,” replied Anthea, a frown darkening her fair face.
“I was not flirting,” protested Elerian. “I was m
erely talking to a stranger that I met by chance.”
“A beautiful stranger who offered to take you with her to some unknown realm where I would never have seen you again,” pointed out Anthea frostily. “Would you have talked to her if she was ugly?”
“Of course I would have,” replied Elerian virtuously. “Maybe not as long, but I would certainly have talked to her,” he added with a sudden gleam in his gray eyes.
Anthea’s clear laughter suddenly filled his mind, and her illusory face cleared. “At least you are honest,” she said lightly, sending her thought to him through the golden tendril of her shade that still touched his right shoulder. “Sit with me now, for we have not conversed in too long.”
Elerian eagerly sat down on a large tree root growing by his feet. For safety’s sake, he called his ring of invisibility, vanishing instantly when it appeared on his right hand. With his third eye, he saw Anthea’s golden shade sit down beside him. She had ended her illusion so that she, too, was invisible to normal sight. Thoughts began to pass silently between them, carried by small spheres of golden light insubstantial as sunbeams.
“Have you ever heard of the Peregrin before?” asked Elerian.
“There are tales told among my people about a strange troop led by a red haired sorceress that hunts these northern forests, carrying off any men or Dwarves that they encounter, but I never gave them much credence before,” replied Anthea. “How did you cross paths with them?”
“I interrupted their hunt,” explained Elerian. “Laralerian, their leader, told me that they come here through a series of gates once every half century to hunt the leopardi that live in this wood.” He fell into a pensive silence then, trying to imagine the wonders the Peregrin had seen in their travels.
“I heard her offer you both her beauty and her knowledge,” said Anthea, interrupting his thoughts. “Were you tempted to go with her?”
“No,” said Elerian at once. “I felt from the first that she was not someone that I could ever trust.”
“So it was suspicion and not your heart that directed you to reject her,” said Anthea, her voice suddenly as frigid as a winter morning.
Elerian suddenly felt rather like a fox surrounded by hidden traps. “I must tread warily here,” he thought uneasily to himself. “I had rather face a company of Goblins than her wrath.” After a moment’s thought he began to speak in an earnest voice.
“Anthea, even if Laralerian had proved herself trustworthy and kind, I would still have chosen you, for you are ever on my mind. When I see the rich hyacinthine sky of last light, I think of your eyes. Then, after night falls, the bright stars bring to mind the gleam in your dark locks.”
“I see that your tongue has grown more glib away from me,” said Anthea mockingly.
“I speak only the truth,” insisted Elerian, silently breathing a sigh of relief, for he could tell by Anthea’s voice that she was pleased by his answer.
“It is fortunate for me that she is not here in her physical form, or I would be as tongue tied as ever,” he thought to himself. Just the thought of her slender body sitting next to him was enough to heat his blood and make his head spin.
“How are things at your father’s court?” he asked, seeking a safer subject.
“I am besieged by suitors,” said Anthea slyly. “You presume much leaving me alone for all this time, for my father constantly urges me to choose some brave knight to replace you.”
“Perhaps you should listen to him, Anthea,” replied Elerian gravely “I have come out of Ennodius with no treasure and only the prospect of more fighting ahead of me.”
“You are as much a fool as ever I see,” replied Anthea, her playful mood dissolving into impatience, for she had hoped that, stung by her teasing, Elerian might urge her to finally join him. “Where are you now?” she asked. “I see forest around you instead of the dark stone walls of Ennodius.”
“Ascilius and I have left Ennodius,” replied Elerian. “We are in the hills to the north of the city.”
“How does he fare?” asked Anthea in a concerned voice.
“He has lost his family, his friends, and his city to the dragon,” replied Elerian gravely, “but his courage is unabated. He is determined to take his people to Galenus despite the Goblin army that has besieged it.”
“Poor fellow,” said Anthea sadly. “You must not treat him harshly, Elerian,” she said, her voice suddenly stern.
“I treat him like my own brother,” replied Elerian virtuously.
“That is what I am most afraid of,” replied Anthea severely. “Would that I was here with you to keep an eye on him and share in your adventures,” she said sadly. “Each day it seems you travel farther from my side into worse danger while I grow ever wearier of my suitors’ attentions and my inactivity. If you do not return soon, I have decided that I will travel to Iulius over the northern plains. I will wait for you there until your business with Ascilius is done.”
“That is a dangerous plan, Anthea,” warned Elerian gravely. “It will only serve to place you in needless peril while turning your father against us. You promised to wait for me as long as need be when we parted. Try to be patient for a little longer,” he pleaded.
“I should never have made that promise,” said Anthea ruefully. “If I had listened to my heart and not my head, I would never have agreed to remain behind. Tell me Elerian, would you wait quietly for me in a place of safety if our situation was reversed?” Anthea asked quietly.
A long moment of silence followed her question.
“Your silence tells me better than words that you would not,” said Anthea shrewdly. “Since you counseled me to a course of action that you would never follow yourself, I consider myself absolved of my own promise.”
“I ask you to remain in Tarsius to keep you safe and because of my own uncertain future, Anthea, not because I do not want you by my side,” said Elerian gravely in a last attempt to dissuade her from leaving Niveaus. “I must still pass through many dangers even before I reach Galenus, and there may be even worse perils ahead of me that I cannot foresee.” The image of the dark plain that he had seen in his crystal orb when he had looked into it in Ascilius’s workshop suddenly appeared in Elerian’s mind, a reminder of how perilous his future might become. “I may never return to Tarsius alive, Anthea,” he said somberly. “It was my unspoken thought that if I fell, you could more easily forget me if you remained in your own country surrounded by friends and family.”
“Laralerian had the right of it,” said Anthea in an exasperated voice. “You are a half-wit! You should realize by now that I can never forget you. If you do not return, I will find some way to follow you. You will not leave me to linger alone on this earthly plane.”
“I should have expected no less from her,” thought Elerian resignedly to himself. “She is like Ascilius and myself. We do not give our loyalty lightly, but once given only death can reverse it.”
“I cannot stop you from joining me if that is what you wish, Anthea,” replied Elerian reluctantly giving in. “I ask only that you give me a few more days before you set out from Niveaus. There is always the hope that I may return to Tarsius with your bride price if Ascilius and I succeed in entering Galenus. I would still have you remain on good terms with your father.”
“From time out of mind women have left home and family to follow their men, but I will wait a bit longer even though my heart urges me to leave Tarsius as soon as ever I might,” replied Anthea grudgingly. “Return to me even if you come empty handed, for the treasure no longer matters. With or without my father’s approval, I am minded to travel to the forests of your youth and dwell with you there instead of Tarsius.”
“It would be dangerous for you to leave the protection of your homeland,” objected Elerian. “Even if we survived the dangerous journey through Ancharia and reached the Abercius, there would be no lasting safety for us there.”
“Not even Tarsius will be safe for ever if Torquatus is not defeated,” replied Anthea s
omberly. “I would rather have a few years of peace and happiness in your Abercius rather than become a stranger in my own land. I continue to change, Elerian. Open your eyes and see me as I am now.”
Elerian closed his third eye as an illusion spell cloaked Anthea’s shade once more. Dumbfounded, his eyes took in her face and form. She was the same but there was perfection to her now that both delighted and mesmerized the eye. A light shining deep within her sapphire eyes gave visible evidence of her growing power, lending an edge of danger to her beauty.
“Sooner or later I must leave the world of men behind whether I wish to or not,” said Anthea to Elerian when he remained speechless. “I must go now my love,” she said more softly. “I grow tired, and my body sits unguarded and quiescent in my room, for it is daytime, not night. I would not like to have it discovered in that state. I will come to you again when I may.”
Anthea’s illusory body abruptly vanished as her shade returned to her faraway body. Like one released from a spell, Elerian blinked and looked around him. Suddenly he smiled as he realized that by the simple act of showing him her image, Anthea had shattered his last argument and bent him to her will.
“Her beauty is only exceeded by her cunning,” he thought to himself wryly. “It is clear to me now that even if we were wed, she cannot remain in Tarsius where she would eventually become an object of curiosity, suspicion, and even jealousy and hate, men’s’ hearts being what they are. Only in some remote place removed from the sight of men and the reach of Torquatus can we dwell, at least for a time, in peace.”
Rising to his feet, Elerian turned his light, invisible steps south toward the Dwarf road, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Even if he failed to obtain any treasure in Galenus, he could still return to Tarsius as soon as Ascilius and his people were safe in the city.
“I had rather return with a bride price and part with Orianus on good terms,” he thought to himself, “but if Anthea is determined to leave Tarsius even without being wed then leave we must, hoping that time will heal any rift created by our secret and unsanctioned departure.”