“Well, no, there's actually a very strict moral code we live by. Not that it's a burden at all, you see...”
“That's not what I mean,” his companion interrupted. “Obviously, you live by some strict moral code! Anyone who's passed three words with you can tell that... I mean; the power of the Telian knights, the power of the Eilian.”
Darian considered the question for a moment before answering.
“Well, it's hard to explain,” he said, turning to face his companion. “It's true that the Eilian can do almost anything, and that they can channel their power through me. It can strengthen me in battle or give me the power to heal the sick and wounded, but that certainly doesn't mean I can do anything.”
“I don't follow you,” Kilren said, urging his horse slowly up the hill.
“Well, first and most obviously, the Eilian will only use their power if your actions or contemplated actions meet with their approval,” Darian continued. “Of course, that's not true of Winrall – who offers his power to all who ask – but, that's another and much longer story.”
“I see...” the young rogue said, bringing his horse to a complete standstill near the top of the hill. “So, you can do anything they give you the power to do?” He gazed contemplatively down at the ground.
“Again, that's not quite right,” Darian said, shaking his head. “Think of it like a stream. It can certainly channel water but, if there's too much water, it'll flood out of its banks.”
“If you were to flood?”
“Oh, in that case, I would die.”
At this response, Kilren lifted his eyes from the ground to the young knight. “Seems a little risky to use it, then!”
“Well, it would be if you couldn't feel it flowing through you,” Darian laughed. “As it is, I can tell how much is too much; if you understand what I mean. Of course, the Eilian also protect us and will only offer us as much of the divine power as we can safely use – except in rare cases where we choose to sacrifice our lives willingly.”
“I see. So, you can only use so much and that's it, eh?” Kilren nodded, as he slid down from his horse and began to pace slowly over the area.
“It would be more accurate to say that I can only use so much at a time.” The young knight answered; turning his own gaze toward the patch of earth that seemed to be fascinating his companion. “However, just like any other aspect of ourselves, the more we use it, the more we're able to use it. So, one day I should be able to do a great deal more than I can today.”
“I see...” Kilren replied distractedly, searching carefully over the ground.
“What are you looking at?”
“Tracks,” he answered, kneeling down to examine them more closely. “A number of horses were here recently. It looks as if they walked up the hill, but then galloped away from it.”
“How can you tell?”
“Look at the tracks! It's obvious. Still, it's nothing to do with us, I guess,” he said, climbing once again into the saddle.
“I guess you're right,” Darian replied, staring down at the tracks and trying to see what his companion saw. “I guess we'd better head on to Tagril.”
“I suppose we had... Of course....” the rogue paused, apparently considering the possibilities.
“Of course, what?”
“Oh, nothing,” Kilren answered with a wave of his hand. “I was just wondering what a number of horsemen would be doing galloping away from the town. Who knows what it could have been this far out on the edge of the kingdom. The place is simply crawling with brigands, after all.”
“Is it?” Darian asked, a hint of displeasure in his voice.
“It is! However, it's none of our business,” Kilren said, gently kicking his horse into motion. “We're heading to Tagril. Come on.”
“Hold a moment,” the young knight said, pulling his coin purse from his bag.
At this Kilren pulled the reins, a smile spreading across his face.
“You're not considering following them, are you?” He asked, a hint of concern in his voice. “We don't have time, and it could be quite dangerous.”
“Don't worry about danger. I'm with you and the Eilian are with me,” Darian replied as he drew a coin from the purse.
Once more, he asked for guidance and, once more, he flipped the coin. Tails. They would follow the tracks.
“Trust to luck?” his companion asked, smiling.
“No, I trust the Eilian,” Darian replied. “I ask and they answer.”
“I see...”
Gwendolyn remembered little of the previous evening as she awoke with her head spinning, and her hands and feet bound. Opening her eyes, she found herself lying against the trunk of a tree. A number of men dressed in black lay near her on the ground asleep. A single sentry paced slowly through the camp; keeping watch while the others slept. She twisted her hands in silent desperation, struggling to free herself; but it was of little use. The cords were both strong and well tied; there was no hope of escape. Suddenly, the pacing villain glanced in her direction.
“You're awake, are you?” he asked with a wicked grin.
“Yes, sir,” she answered quietly.
“Well, well, such good manners,” he said, moving towards her and drawing a knife from his belt.
Gwendolyn's eyes widened and her pulse quickened as she beheld the fearsome rogue with the naked blade in his hand. Again, darkness began to creep around her as her head grew light. The villain paused, gazing down at her terrified face.
“Look, I'm just going cut you loose,” he said, pointing at her hands with the knife. “We weren't paid to hurt you, just to fetch you; so you've nothing to fear. Keep in mind, there ain't no reason to run 'cause you've nowhere to go. And there ain't no reason to scream, 'cause there's no one to hear.”
Reaching down, he quickly cut the ropes that bound her. Immediately, her wrists and ankles started to tingle and ache as blood began to flow through them properly once more. She rubbed her tender wrists slowly as she stared silently at her only conscious captor.
“Mort brought some clothes for you, by the way,” he said, stepping over to where the horses were tied. ”Said he didn't think you'd want to be running around the countryside in a nightdress. Always has been a softy, has Mort.”
He untied a bag from one of the saddles before returning and throwing it down at her side.
“You can step behind there to change,” he said, pointing to one of the many bushes that surrounded the campsite. “Sing a snatch of something while you're back there. If I can't hear you, I'll have to come looking for you, and you ain't gonna like that.”
Taking the bag in her hand, Gwendolyn rose. As she did so, she almost collapsed. Her ankles were throbbing, and her head was aching. Steadying herself against the tree, she stood for a moment before stepping behind the bush and opening the bag. It seemed that the brigand who had been thoughtful enough to bring her clothes had simply grabbed things at random. They would have been excellent if she had been going to a party but, for traveling in the wilderness, they were horrible.
“Sing!” a voice demanded from the other side of the bush.
“Sorry!” she replied, quickly obeying her captor's command.
The first tune that sprang to mind was the very one that her Nanna had been singing the night before. As the first few notes filled her throat, tears filled her eyes. Who were these men and why had they taken her? Would she ever see her parents or Nanna again? Was she going to be held for ransom?
At least she didn't seem to be in any immediate danger. If these men had been hired to fetch her, perhaps she could hire them to take her back home. Her family was no longer a noble one, but it was a wealthy one for all that. For the time being, the best thing she could think to do was be cooperative and confident. Having dressed herself, she wiped her eyes before stepping out from behind the bush.
“That's much better,” she said, smoothing out the front of the blue dress with white lace she had selected from the bag.
�
��Very pretty,” the brigand said, smiling at her.
“Thank you. Could I get something to drink?” she asked, supporting herself against the tree where she had been bound.
“You can,” he answered with a nod. “As I said, we're to keep you safe and sound until you get where you're going. In fact, we've been ordered to make the trip as pleasant as possible; all things considered.”
Turning, he approached the horses once more.
“So, I'm to be well treated?”
“As well as is reasonable,” he answered over his shoulder as he drew a bottle and mug from one of the saddlebags.
“In case you haven't noticed, we're trying to get some rest, Valk,” one of the ruffians said, rolling over on his side.
“Well, in case you haven't noticed, Mort, your little princess is awake and already making demands! Besides, it's time to get moving, anyway,” the young man replied.
He dropped the bottle and mug in front of Gwendolyn before making his way through the band, waking them each with a shake or quick kick. The largest of the villains stretched himself, glancing over at the young girl as he did so.
“How are you this morning?” he asked, a giant smile spreading across his bearded face.
“As well as can be expected, sir,” she replied with a slight curtsy.
At this, the rogue laughed.
“Well said, well said,” he replied before addressing his band. “Everyone, eat something and do it quickly! We've got a lot of ground to cover and, by this time, someone is certainly on our trail. We need to travel long and fast – and it's no good trying to do that on an empty stomach.”
“Sir, may I ask you a question?” Gwendolyn said quietly.
“You may, and you may also address me as Sir Barlan,” the giant villain replied, climbing to his feet.
“You're a knight, then?” she asked with some faint hope of appealing to the man's honor.
Her question was met by laughter from the villainous band.
“No, I'm not a knight. I'm the leader of this wild pack of mercenaries and I'm called Sir out of fear, not respect. You'd do well to keep that in mind!”
Once more, the men laughed.
“Yes, sir,” she replied, staring timidly at the ground before her. “Well, as you've been hired to take me from my home, could you be hired to return me?”
“Hired by whom?” Barlan asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Well, sir, by me,” she meekly replied.
Again, the band burst into laughter.
She looked around at her captors and continued. “My father is one of the wealthiest men in Tagril; he'll gladly pay for my return.”
At a wave of their leader's hand, the pack grew silent.
“There are a few things you should know, my dear,” Barlan said, counting off each point on his fingers as he made it. “First, you've been sent for by Galrin – and your father's entire fortune couldn't buy the ring on that man's little finger. Second, by this time there is almost certainly a very angry group of soldiers on our trail that wouldn't be willing to let us live to enjoy any reward your father might offer us. Third, men that cross Galrin end up dead. So, all things considered, you might as well resign yourself to your fate. You belong to Galrin now; all you can do is ask the Eilian to make him a good master.”
Gwendolyn was wise enough to say no more. For the time being, it was obvious that Barlan had said all he intended to. It would do her little good to annoy him and could do her a great deal of harm. However, one piece of the mercenary's advice did seem worth taking. She bowed her head and begged the Eilian to deliver her. For the moment, there was nothing more she could do.
Chapter 2: In Pursuit
Erana took a deep breath of the fragrant morning air. It was filled with the scents of budding leaves and opening flowers. The music of merry birds gently kissed her ears while the pale sunlight that drifted to earth through the leafy branches above her softly caressed her eyes. All these things reminded her of home.
Already, a week had passed and, so far, everything had been serene. If the outlying lands of Mikral had one distinguishing feature, it was the uneventful calm that appeared to lay over everything.
Even the birds of prey seemed to flutter down from the sky, gently lift their listless victims and lazily carry them off to be devoured. This unnatural tranquility was almost disturbing, at least to one used to the rather more rugged wilds of Innalas.
Perhaps this calm was due to the influence of mankind. After all, they preferred subjugating nature to living alongside it as an equal. To them, trees were only uncut timber, rivers merely a source of power, and animals nothing more than food and clothing. Still, she had been sent here to find and help some human in need. Why her father had suggested this as her final trial, she couldn't fathom; but it wasn't her place to question, only to obey. The rangers of Innalas enforced the will of the elvish nobles; they didn't dictate it.
Of course, lying in the grass, watching the sun slowly climb the heavens wasn't going to further her quest. Nor was counting off the human frailties one-by-one likely to make it easier to help them. At last, Erana sat up with a sigh. The placid nature of the countryside seemed to affect even her. In her own homeland, she would have slept lightly and woken at the first hint of dawn. This morning, the sun was up for almost an hour before she even cracked her eyelids. It was time to get moving. She rose, taking up her bow and quiver. Throwing the one over her shoulder and hanging the other from her belt, once again she set out on her journey.
Today, she would reach Tagril and, for the first time in her life, enter a town almost completely peopled by humans. It wasn't an experience she was looking forward to; but, the sooner she got there, the sooner she could leave. At least in a hamlet packed with men, she was bound to find someone in need of superior elvish skill. Once she succeeded in aiding one of the poor hapless creatures, she could be on her way. That thought helped quicken her pace as she made her way down the road.
As she traveled along, Erana couldn't help but notice that a group of horsemen had recently passed through the area. The tracks, which were several hours old, made it clear that the horses had been galloping at full speed. This made her wonder just what a group of riders was doing tearing through the night. As soon as she reached Tagril, she would find out what she could. Perhaps she had already stumbled across signs of humans in need.
Between her and the town lay the Neres Bridge. Her father had suggested this route, warning her at the time that the guards would question her before they let her pass. However, on reaching it, she found things were not quite as she had expected. There stood the bridge, just as her father had described it; but, no guards were present. She hesitated for a moment to consider the situation when her attention was attracted by hoof-beats in the distance. A rider, no, two riders were heading quickly toward the bridge from the opposite side. Looking in the direction of the sound, she could just make out a pair of horsemen coming up over a distant hill.
The wisest course of action would be to conceal herself until she knew more about them and their intentions. Some dense vegetation near the bridge offered the perfect place from which to watch without being watched. Stepping silently within the foliage, she waited.
“You have to pursue them now!” Faelor said, furiously slamming his hand down on the captain's desk. “If you won't send men with me, I'll go alone!”
“It's not that I don't want to, Faelor, honestly! I just can't! Half the garrison was wounded last night. The men that I have left must remain in town. In fact, it's an order,” Captain Irral said, brandishing the paper that held the command.
“What fool would issue an order like that, knowing my daughter's been kidnapped?!”
“Baron Kilmer gave the order,” the captain replied, throwing the paper back on his desk. “At the time, we only knew horses had been stolen. We believed the brigands were heading south into territory guarded by the Baron's own men. I'm sure he felt his soldiers could handle the pursuit at the time. I've already
sent word to him about the kidnapping. He'll send men to help us get your daughter back. You can be sure of that.”
“They're already hours away! Something has to be done now!” the girl's father yelled, sinking down in a nearby chair and burying his face in his hands.
One of the captain's attendants opened the door and stepped briskly into the room. “Captain, a man is asking to see you at once. It seems he knows about the kidnapping.”
“Show him in,” Irral replied.
A moment later, two people were led into the captain's office. The first was a tall and muscular man in his mid-thirties. His eyes, short hair, and neatly trimmed beard were all dark brown. His gaze, at that moment directed toward the seated gentlemen, was filled with grim determination. Only a step behind him stood a woman slightly younger than he, whose head was no higher than her companion's shoulder. Her long red tresses fell down to her waist and her emerald green eyes seemed to burn and dance with life. Her dress perfectly complemented her slender, well-proportioned figure and a bright smile graced her soft red lips.
The captain couldn't help but wonder just what had brought such a unique pair into his chambers so early in the morning. However, his curiosity was quickly satiated. As soon as they entered, the man spoke.
“We understand a young girl has been stolen from you.”
“How do know that, stranger?” Irral asked with one eyebrow slightly raised.
In response to this question, the young woman laughed. It was a merry, gentle, warm laugh.
“Do you hear that, love?” she said. “They think we had something to do with it.”
“I mean no offense, but you must admit the question is valid.” Irral leaned forward, his elbows on his desk.
“It is,” the large man nodded. “We were staying in the village Bermoth; word of what happened reached its inn by five this morning.”
“News certainly travels quickly,” the captain replied.
The Stars of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 1) Page 3