The Stars of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 1)

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  “The rangers of Innalas rarely have tender hands!” she said defensively.

  “I meant no offense, Erana,” Ian replied, smiling at the fair elf. “I was merely trying to watch out for you.”

  “Thank you, but I know a bit about watching out for myself,” she said, returning his smile, “Besides, aren't you worried about your delicate musician's hands?”

  “So I am!” the dwarf said, snapping his fingers.

  He drew a pair of soft white gloves from a pocket in his coat and quickly slipped them on his hands.

  “I wish I had a pair that would fit you as well, but I don't.”

  “Thank you, but I don't need them.”

  “He's ready,” Tealor cried, gazing up to where the two stood on the cliff's edge.

  Immediately, the pair reached down and tugged. Slowly, the unconscious body of the young knight rose into the air. As soon as he reached the top, Ian let go of the rope and dragged the Telian's limp body to safety. Next, Gwendolyn was raised in the same fashion. Then, Sarena followed. Tealor and Kilren argued about who would be last until the young rogue pointed out that the warrior had already been killed before his wife's eyes once that day. After the mighty mercenary reached the top, Kilren tied the rope around his waist and did his best to aid their efforts to lift him.

  Within ten minutes, the entire party was at the top. Erana immediately stepped into the woods that covered the area, the little band following quickly behind. The dwarf carried his pack and the young knight without the slightest hint of effort while Gwendolyn walked along beside him. Tealor leaned heavily on Kilren's uninjured shoulder and kept his other arm wrapped around his beautiful wife.

  As they moved through the still sparse trees, Ian noticed Erana looking down at her hands now and again. He quickened his pace until he was walking at her side.

  “What's wrong, lass?” he asked, smiling.

  For an instant, a look of anger flashed in her eyes, but then she took a deep breath, sighed and held out her palms. Both were raw. Not only had the rope blistered her hands as she pulled, it had also ripped the thin skin that covered those blisters.

  “Would I offend you if I offered to help?” the bard asked.

  Erana looked at the dwarf's face as they strolled along side by side. There was no hint of mockery or condescension. Ian was sincere and obviously hoped to be of service.

  “Actually, I would really appreciate it,” she replied, smiling.

  The party stopped briefly while the dwarf gently laid his noble baggage on the ground and removed two strips of white cloth and a small jar from one of his pockets.

  “Hold out your hands,” the bard said as he opened the jar and covered his fingers with the creamy green substance inside.

  Erana obeyed and waited silently.

  “Alright, lass, I'm going to be honest with you,” he nodded. “This is going to hurt... a lot. However, it will heal you in a matter of hours. Your hands will be a little rougher than they were for a few weeks, but it's a small price to pay. If we get in another scrape, we're going to need your hands to help us get out of it.”

  “I can stand pain,” she replied with confidence.

  “Good lass,” he said, grabbing her hand firmly in his and rubbing the green substance into her raw flesh.

  Years afterword, Erana would tell people that she had never felt pain until that moment and that she hoped never to do so again. Her nerves burned with unimaginable fire and she ground her teeth until she feared they would shatter in order to keep from crying out. The intensity of the sensation almost made her swoon, and she felt as if she were about to be sick. Then, in a flash, it was over. The dwarf stood, wrapping the cloth around her hand. The former pain was completely gone. She could hardly believe it. It had been terrible, but it was over.

  “That's one,” the dwarf said, rubbing his fingers again into the jar.

  “Hold on,” Erana replied, raising her bandaged hand.

  It was one thing to face an unknown pain, it was another to face that same agony again. She quickly wadded up the corner of her own cloak and jammed it in her mouth. Having given herself something to bite down on, she gave the dwarf her other hand. Again, the pain was almost unimaginable but, somehow, preparation seemed to make it less terrible. With every passing moment, she knew that the sensation was closer to an end. Soon her second hand was wrapped in white cloth, and the party was again on its way.

  “Why can't we use a bit of that on my shoulder?” Kilren asked as they began to march along once more.

  “We could, but it wouldn't be wise,” was the dwarf's simple reply.

  “Why not?” the rogue asked.

  “Well, it seals the flesh, but it won't cure a deep injury like yours,” the bard answered. “If we used it on your wound, it would probably make your shoulder look whole; but, it wouldn't heal the injury beneath. Of course, we could cover something in it and push it to the bottom of the wound.” Ian said, thinking aloud. “That might actually work. Hand me one of your bolts.”

  “No, on second thought, it'll wait,” Kilren said, holding up his hand.

  “Suit yourself,” the dwarf replied, shrugging his knight covered shoulders.

  Fortune smiled on the little band. They crossed a shallow stream before nightfall and found, not a great distance on the other side, a giant oak tree that had been pushed down by some mighty storm. Its upturned roots formed a natural canopy. The earth beneath was soft and bare; a perfect floor. In a few minutes, the party lay stretched out within this massive natural cavern of earth and wood with a small fire burning in its very center. The young knight had awakened shortly before the party found this haven and had asked to be allowed to walk, but this humble request had been denied as he didn't have the strength to resist the determined dwarf.

  As soon as the fire was blazing, the bard pulled a small pot from his bag. He asked Erana to go collect a number of herbs that grew in the area while he got water from the stream. Soon, a pleasant aroma filled the cavern as dried meat, fresh herbs, water, and a few potatoes – drawn from various pockets from Ian's coat – quickly formed a delicious stew. The little band was short on tableware, but were more than happy to share their dishes and utensils – as well as their meal.

  “What you did today was a miracle,” Gwendolyn said, stepping over to the young knight and offering him a tin cup filled with stew.

  “What the Eilian did today was a miracle,” he replied with a weak grin.

  “Well, yes. Still, it was very brave of you,” she observed, returning his smile.

  “Not really,” he replied, shaking his head. “I was born to do it. I should have realized immediately that the Eilian would give me success. I'm ashamed to admit that I doubted it for a moment.”

  “Well, you tried even though you weren't sure you'd survive,” she observed. “That was very brave.”

  “Have it your own way,” he laughed softly. “But, you can't fight destiny.”

  Seeing the two in talk, Sarena left her husband's side and approached the pair. She knelt silently down beside the valiant Telian, taking his hand up in her own and kissing it gently. Tears filled her eyes as she gazed into the young man's face.

  “I will never be able to repay you,” she whispered. “You saved my very heart today.”

  “There's nothing to repay,” he said, gently squeezing her hand. “The Eilian saved his life; I was merely the vessel through which their power poured. Still, I appreciate your thanks and I'm glad to have been of service.”

  The beautiful sorceress hugged the gallant knight around the neck before she rose and returned to her husband, wiping the tears from her eyes as she went. The warrior and the bard sat together discussing the events of the day, attempting to set some of the deeds to verse before they drifted off to sleep. The dwarf leaned back, rubbing his hands across his contented chest when, with a look of surprise, he jammed his hand down into yet another pocket. He pulled forth a napkin which held nothing more than a biscuit, but it was the only one the par
ty had. The bard leapt to his feet and immediately offered it to Darian as a just reward for the hero of the day. This gesture was met with cheers from the rest of the party and, with a deep blush, the young knight accepted the gracious offer.

  “This has been a strange journey,” Kilren said to Erana as she sat down beside him and leaned back against the cavern's earth wall.

  “It's not been what I expected,” she replied, turning to look at him. “How's your arm?”

  “It's been better,” he laughed. “How are your hands?”

  “Let's have a look,” the fair ranger replied, pulling the bandages away.

  The skin on her palms was completely healed; although, as Ian had predicted, it was a bit rougher than it had formerly been.

  “Looks like I'm going to be alright,” she said, holding her hands out to the rogue.

  He gently grasped them in his own and smiled.

  “You know, Erana, you really are very...” he began, but was interrupted by Ian.

  “You two want to help me tomorrow?” the dwarf asked, glancing over at the pair.

  “Of course!” Erana immediately replied, pulling her hands from the grasp of her companion.

  “Help you do what?” was Kilren's suspicious answer.

  “Well, I think it'll be best if we stay here for a day or so,” the bard replied. “It would also be a good idea to lay our hands on some extra supplies. We weren't carrying enough food to spend a week in the wilderness and we may be out longer than that. We need to stock up on a few things before we head out.”

  “That's an excellent idea,” Tealor said with a nod, “I'm all for resting tomorrow.”

  “Well, I think we three should get up early,” Ian said. “But, I can still take one of the watches.”

  “I'll take the first,” Darian said, stretching himself as he rose slowly to his feet.

  “No, you need to rest,” Gwendolyn replied with a look of concern in her eyes.

  “I've been resting for a while,” he said. “I'll be fine for a few hours.”

  “Well, I'll watch with you, then,” she said, following him to the edge of their hidden haven.

  Kilren looked at the Telian with a smile before turning his attention back to Erana. She had already wrapped herself in her cloak and lain down beside him.

  “Good night, Kilren,” she said sleepily, tucking her arm under her head.

  “Good night, Erana,” he replied, laying down quietly at her side.

  Chapter 8: A Time for Flight

  The sun slowly rose from behind the trees, flooding the world with the pale light of dawn; revealing a well-dressed dwarf sitting at the edge of a small earthen cavern in the middle of a wild wood. The watches of the night had passed uneventfully; he could risk a little music. Ian drew a small metal flute from his coat and began playing softly as he surveyed the beautiful scene that met his eyes. He had thought of nothing more than shelter and rest when he first arrived at this unusual haven. Now, however, as he sat alone in the early morning light, he had time to more fully appreciate his surroundings.

  Most of the nearby trees were ancient oaks whose massive limbs climbed toward the heavens; sheltering the earth below with their deep green canopy. Around the fallen trunk that formed their temporary burrow, a number of small saplings grew; reaching toward an open patch of sky above. A gentle breeze rustled through the countless leaves as if nature were gently singing to herself. The murmur of the nearby stream added to this melodious sound and blended seamlessly with the tune played by the dwarvish bard. Ian had carefully selected his air. It was one said to have been written by the fairy folk when the world was new. It seemed to fit the place somehow.

  “So, with the pipes ruined, you resort to the flute, eh?” Kilren asked, sitting up and stretching himself.

  Ian brought the tune to an end before turning his attention to the young rogue.

  “Actually, the dear lady mended them for me last night,” he said with a nod. “But, the pipes can give one a rather rude awakening.”

  “Well I, for one, thank you for the consideration,” the rogue chuckled.

  “You had better wake her,” Ian said, pointing down at the fair Erana. “We have a bit to do today and I'd just as soon get an early start.”

  “Of course,” Kilren replied, reaching down and gently shaking the elvish maiden.

  Erana slowly opened her dark green eyes, her sleepy gaze shifting slowly from the bard to the handsome young rogue. A smile spread across her face as her eyes rested on Kilren. Suddenly, she sat up with a start.

  “Are you alright?” the rouge asked, a note of concern in his voice and a grin on his face.

  “I'm fine!” She exclaimed, wrapping herself in her cloak. “It's just that I usually don't sleep so heavily. And… I had some strange dreams.”

  “What kind of dreams?” he asked.

  “Well...” she began, but paused glancing over at him. “Just some strange dreams. I don't even remember what they were about.”

  “You know,” he replied with a nod. “I had a few strange dreams myself last night.”

  “How nice,” she said, leaping to her feet. “I'll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To the stream,” she replied. “I'm going to wash up a bit.”

  “I'll come along, if it's all right,” Gwendolyn said, sitting up from where she lay.

  “Please do,” Erana nodded.

  The two young maidens strolled quickly from the cavern together, chattering about their past adventures and future expectations.

  “We'll give them a few minutes and then head that way ourselves,” Ian said, staring after them.

  “What?” Kilren asked, his voice touched with mock surprise. “I thought you were more of a gentledwarf.”

  The bard glared at him silently for a moment.

  “I mean; we'll give them enough to time to finish, and then head to the stream ourselves,” he replied, shaking his head. “I doubt they plan to do more than wash their pretty faces anyway.”

  “So, after they're done, we need to wash our pretty faces?” the rogue asked.

  “Well, your face may not be pretty,” the dwarf chuckled, “but, it could use a wash. In truth, mine could, as well. But, that's not why we're going.”

  “Then, why are we going?” Kilren asked.

  “To catch fish, you fool!” the bard replied, throwing his hands in the air. “Didn't you hear what I said last night? We need more food if we're going to be days in the wilderness.”

  “How are we going to catch them?” the rogue asked. “Like a simpleton, I left my net at home.”

  “I'll show you when we get there,” Ian said, ignoring the rogue's sarcasm. “By the way, how's your shoulder?”

  “Bad,” Kilren replied, glancing down at his arm.

  “I thought as much,” the bard nodded. “Take a seat beside me, lad.”

  Kilren obeyed the summons and Ian began to sing gently of the wind and rain, home and hearth, and many things dear to the heart of man. As his song came to an end, a look of peace spread across the face of the young rogue.

  “How's that?” the bard asked.

  “Better,” Kilren replied, moving his shoulder one way and then another. “Much better! Just like new, in fact! Thanks!”

  “You're welcome,” Ian smiled. “But, it was nothing, really. I know you'd do the same for me if you could.”

  “I just wish you could have done it last night” Kilren chuckled.

  “So do I, lad,” the bard replied. “But, I was far too weary. After helping all those soldiers in the morning, I didn't have the strength to help you. Still, a good night's rest was all I needed and so, all you needed, as well.”

  For a few minutes, Ian played merrily on his flute while Kilren sat in silence, continually moving his newly healed shoulder. Finally, the bard rose and, changing his tune to a louder and livelier air, headed toward the stream. On reaching its banks, he and the rogue found the maidens dangling their feet i
n the cold, clear water. Ian brought his song to an end and stored his flute safely in his coat. He then removed the garment and lay it beside a nearby tree. Next, he removed his shoes and the short white stockings he wore before rolling up his sleeves and trousers. He advised Kilren to do the same and the rogue quickly followed suit.

  “What are you doing?” Gwendolyn asked, as the pair made their preparations.

  “We're going fishing, lass,” was Ian's direct reply.

  “Can I help?” she asked excitedly.

  “I'm thinking it would be a rather wet job in that dress,” he said, glancing up at her.

  “I've got other clothes she could wear,” Erana suggested. “We're almost the same size.”

  “Alright, then,” the dwarf replied, smiling at the elvish maiden. “I wanted your help anyway, dear.”

  While their female companions made their way back to camp, the bard and the rogue moved into the center of the shallow stream.

  “This water is freezing!” Kilren observed as he stepped carefully along the stone covered stream bed.

  “Aye, that it is,” Ian agreed. “Most of it comes from snow melting up in the mountains. This close to the source, it is a bit on the cool side.”

  Having said this, Ian reached down, splashing his face and rubbing the back of his neck.

  “If I wasn't fully awake before, I am now,” he chuckled.

  The rogue dunked his head into the ice-cold water before shaking himself with a yell.

  “Now, how do we fish?” he asked, running his hand through his dripping hair.

  “Watch me carefully, lad,” the bard grinned.

  Ian bent over until his face was within inches of the water and crept slowly back and forth, carefully examining every shadow.

  “Trout,” the dwarf whispered, pointing at the surface of the water.

  With step after careful step, he herded the fish closer to the bank. When they were within a few feet of the shore, his hands shot into the water and, in an instant, cast his unsuspecting quarry onto dry land.

  “Well done!” Erana exclaimed as the two maidens reappeared from the woods.

  Gwendolyn was now dressed in more suitable attire than the rich blue dress she had been wearing before. Her new garments consisted simply of leather trousers and a light linen tunic. Soon, both she and Erana were in the water with their companions and fish after fish flew toward the bank. Of the four, only Gwendolyn had any trouble with the sport. It seemed her previous education had done little to prepare her for anything requiring the speed and dexterity of the current task. One fish after another evaded her grasp until she finally managed to throw one on the bank while, at the same time, throwing herself back into the ice-cold water. As she rose, a look of pain spread across her face as she raised her hand to her temple.