“Are you alright, lass?” Ian asked, stepping to her side.
“I am. I'm just getting a headache,” she replied. “I've been getting them a lot lately.”
“Well then, sit down for a few minutes and rest,” he said, escorting her to the bank. “We'll catch enough fish for us all and you can keep us company.”
The maiden did as she was told and leaned against a large tree while the fishing continued and her clothes dried out.
The frustrated wizard glared into the calm black pool. His chanting grew louder as he threw his strength into calling up the image he sought. Still the pool was dark; still his view was hidden. He grasped the stone basin by its edges and exerted all his power. How could she resist him? How could she hide from him? This struggle seemed to prove beyond a doubt that her power was beginning to manifest itself. However, she was no match for him, it was only a matter of time.
All at once, a scene was painted on the surface of the dark water. There was the girl and her companions. Where were they? Galrin certainly didn't recognize the area. They seemed to be playing in some stream in a wood somewhere, but that was very little to go on. He should never have trusted Faerdor to stop them. Now Faerdor was dead, and his prey on the run.
Even had the venerable wizard been watching these would-be rescuers during their entire journey, he wasn't familiar with every tree or stone to be found in the countryside. It would have only been a matter of time before their meandering trek through the forest had confused his sense of direction. For the moment, he had lost them and, until they passed some familiar landmark, he couldn't know exactly where they were.
Still, he couldn't blame himself. For hours on end, he had watched the water as the party rode along mile after mile. However, even his considerable power could not be exerted forever. He had taken only minutes to rest both his eyes and his mind. During that brief period, they had killed Faerdor and disappeared into the woods. It was obvious to Galrin that they had climbed the cliffs to escape. There was no other path that would have led them so quickly to the woodlands. But, in which direction had they headed?
As the ancient wizard pondered this question, he heard a familiar sound. It was the powerful step of his adopted son drawing ever nearer. Galrin could easily recognize the quick, confident, and heavy stride of his master. Even if he hadn't, only Lord Valrak would dare enter this dark sanctuary. The last underling who had intruded upon Galrin here had burst into flames as he crossed the threshold. Since that time, he had never again been disturbed.
After all these considerations, the sharp, powerful knock of his lord at the door came as no surprise.
“Yes, my son,” the old man said, turning his attention back to the waters.
“Has the girl been captured?” Lord Valrak asked, stepping quickly into the dark, vaulted chamber.
“Very nearly, my lord,” Galrin nodded. “Look.”
“I don't recognize the area. Where is it?” the warlord asked.
With a wave of his hand, the wizard opened a nearby chest and called forth a large parchment which floated in the air just before the two men. Lines began to cover its blank surface and a map of the surrounding lands quickly took shape.
“You doubtless recognize the Neres river?” the old man asked, pointing it out with his long bony finger.
“Of course,” Valrak replied.
“Well, they were riding along its banks when they encountered Faerdor yesterday,” the wizard continued.
“Then, where is he? How did they escape him?” Valrak asked, his voice filled with impatience.
“He is dead, my lord,” Galrin answered, lowering his eyes to the floor.
“What?!” the giant mercenary lord bellowed. “Why didn't you inform me of this at once?”
“Very simply, because there wasn't anything of importance to tell you, my son,” Galrin replied, lifting his gaze. “You knew very well the girl was not yet captured. Until that changed, I saw no reason to disturb you with more reports of failure.”
Valrak took a deep breath and released it slowly.
“I see your point, father,” he conceded. “Still, from now on, I want to know of all developments – no matter how trivial.”
“As you will, my lord,” the old man replied with a bow. “Shortly after Faerdor's failure, a group of Mikralian soldiers passed through the area where the battle had taken place. Our quarry used a very simple method of throwing their pursuers off the scent. However, despite its simplicity, it worked. With my own eyes, I saw them set off following a false trail.”
“Why didn't you tell them they had been deceived?” Valrak asked through clenched teeth.
“Sadly, my lord, I knew none of the soldiers,” Galrin sighed. “Without that knowledge – or one of the stones – I could not speak to them.”
“I see,” was Valrak's simple reply.
“However, I was able to contact a number of our own men who have, by now at least, put them back on the right scent,” the ancient wizard nodded.
“So, at the moment, you have no idea where the girl is?” the warlord asked, crossing his arms and staring into his foster father's eyes.
The large mercenary's tone of voice urged Galrin to be as diplomatic as possible in his answer.
“I would not say that, my lord!” the old man exclaimed. “They could not have traveled for more than eight hours before the sun set after their battle with Faerdor. They were wounded – seriously wounded – and must have been traveling very slowly. We also know they are near a stream that winds its way down to join the Neres. There are only five such streams they could have possibly reached.”
“Five!” Lord Valrak barked. “Only five, my dear father? Then, no doubt, she is practically in our hands!”
“Yes, my son, she is,” the wizard replied calmly.
“Yes, of course,” the son began sarcastically, “all we need do is search the entire lengths of these streams – from their source to the sea – and we'll certainly find them; provided, of course, they don't choose some other hiding place before that.”
“My lord, as I mentioned before, they were traveling very slowly,” Galrin said, shaking his head. “We only need search from the furthermost point they could have reached down to the Neres. We will find them before we reach it.”
“If they haven't moved on.”
“Even if they have, our men will be able to pick up their trail from there,” Galrin assured his master. “They very foolishly abandoned their horses. Once we're on the scent again, we will very easily overtake them.”
Lord Valrak stood in silent consideration. Galrin knew that, although his son was quick to anger, he was almost impossible to truly discourage.
“Very well, father,” the mercenary lord nodded. “Send our men as quickly as possible. I don't want her to slip through our grasp again.”
“As you wish, my lord,” the ancient wizard bowed.
In a very few minutes’ time, the little band had collected a large pile of fish. Ian stood, gazing down on their success with a wide smile on his face.
“Now, we just need to carry them back to camp,” he said, stepping briskly over to his coat.
After searching through several pockets, he produced a pair of silk bags.
“They pack up very small, but they'll hold a great deal once you unroll them,” he said with a wink.
He handed one bag to Kilren and began to fill the other himself. Once all the fish were collected, the four companions headed back to the cavern to prepare breakfast. In just a few minutes, Ian and Kilren had cleaned their catch and put them on sticks around the fire. Very shortly, the smell of fresh fish filled the air, awaking the other sleepers from their repose.
“I could use some breakfast,” Tealor said with a yawn.
“Allow me, my champion,” his wife replied, reaching out with her slender hands and taking a fish for each of them.
“How many did you catch?” the warrior asked.
“Enough for this morning and a few more for late
r in the day,” Ian replied, taking a fish for himself. “It's enough to keep us on our feet for a few hours without digging into our supplies.”
“Good,” Tealor nodded. “We need to leave here as soon as possible.”
“I think it would be wiser to rest,” Ian said, glancing from the warrior to the Telian.
“I agree with him, dear heart,” Sarena replied, staring into her husband's eyes with concern. “You and our gallant knight aren't yet fully recovered.”
“Well, I've been considering it,” the warrior said. “It seems obvious that Galrin is, in fact, after Gwendolyn. He's not going to give up until he finds her. I'm sure men are crawling over the area, even now, looking for us. I'm also not sure how long our little ruse will fool them. The longer we wait, the more likely they are to stumble upon us. We need to stay on the move as much as we can.”
“I agree,” the young knight added. “I've had more than enough rest and a battle would be much worse than a bit of a march.”
“Aye, that's true,” Ian nodded. “I think that we can quickly put both of you back in good order again.”
Having said this, Ian lay down the fish he was eating, took a long drink and began to sing a song of peace and rest. To Tealor, the song spoke of stretching fields and flowing streams, a little farmhouse on a hill, and things from his childhood long forgotten. To Darian, the song called up images of battles won, of peace restored, and the glory of the Eilian themselves. Each was enchanted by the song and, when it came to an end, both felt ready to walk a hundred leagues.
“The sooner we start, the better,” the knight said, rising to his feet and taking a fish from the fire.
“Sit down, lad,” Ian replied, waving his hand, “We'll head out in an hour. I have to cook the rest of these fish before we leave, in any event.”
The young knight obeyed and Gwendolyn sat down at his side to enjoy her breakfast. For his own part, Kilren grabbed a morsel before stepping out beyond their little cavern to take a seat in the bright sunshine. As cozy as their burrow was, he preferred the open air. Erana quickly followed, taking up a seat on the grass nearby. For him, the company would be as pleasant as the scenery.
“So, where did you come from?” the elvish maid asked suddenly, turning her gaze in his direction.
“From under that tree over there,” he replied, pointing toward the cavern. “I thought you might have seen me.”
“You know that's not what I mean,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I mean; how does someone like you end up traveling with someone like Darian?”
“Someone like me?” the rogue asked, putting his hand on his chest.
“Well, yes...” the elvish maid replied.
Kilren looked over at the fair ranger and laughed.
“You have a gift for subtlety,” he said, taking a bite of his breakfast. “Anyway, you've already heard the story.”
“No,” She replied, shaking her head. “You only said that you tried to rob him and now you're traveling with him. Why in Areon would a highwayman want to travel with a Telian? That's what I can't figure out. Of course, honestly, you don't really strike me as a highwayman.”
“I'm not,” Kilren asserted. “I just needed a little coin and, in the dark, Darian seemed like an easy mark.”
“So, you're a thief?” she asked, an accusing tone edging her voice.
“That's what some would say, yes,” he answered, gazing directly into her eyes. “Of course, most people are. I've seen my own father charge twice what he paid for a bottle of wine and go on the entire time about how he was taking a loss on the deal. Compared to most merchants in Mikral, he's a saint. I don't do any worse than my neighbors.”
“Well, at least a merchant who's a cheat doesn't kill his customers,” Erana observed.
“Neither do I!” the rogue exclaimed. “I've never so much as let a single drop of blood fall from any of my customers. In fact, most of them never know we've done any business.”
The rogue began to laugh at his own wit, but his mirth was cut short by the disapproving look on his beautiful companion's face.
“Still, to take what a man's earned is almost as bad,” Erana scowled. “You take his sweat instead of his blood!”
“Well, unlike so many worthy merchants, I've never robbed the poor! I've never taken a coin from those who couldn't afford it! I've never thrown a widow and her children out into the street just to fill my own filthy pockets!” Kilren's voice filled with anger as he spoke but, as he gazed at the elvish maiden once again, a smile spread across his face and his tone returned to one of pleasant conversation. “I admit I've lightened the burden of many an overworked merchant and tax collector, but they have more than enough to spare for the likes of me. Besides, where does what I take end up but back in their own greedy hands?”
Erana finished her meal in silence; apparently finished with their conversation. It was obvious his answers hadn't been overly pleasing to her. He would have to try again.
“Look, Erana,” Kilren began, “I'm not a blackguard or a cutthroat. I have taken a bit here or there from men that didn't deserve as much as they had, but that's as far as my crimes have ever gone. I tried to rob Darian because I thought he was a merchant or some wealthy noble. Believe it or not, I wouldn't have taken anything from him once I found out I was wrong. Why am I traveling with him? He's a good, noble, brave, and honest companion – and that's a rare thing. I've been very lucky to fall into a group where these virtues surround me. We're even on a noble quest. Now, that's not normally my line of work, but I'm all for helping those in need when it's not too difficult.”
“So, you haven't found our quest difficult so far?” she asked, her look of displeasure beginning to fade.
“Well, a little here and there, but those are the exciting bits!” he replied, his eyes flashing. “Erana, my parents run an inn right in the heart of Mikral city. From the time I was six until I was twelve, I helped wait tables, wash dishes, and clean up the floor where people had gotten sick. As soon as I was old enough, I was sent off to become a clerk. A clerk,” the rogue repeated, putting emphasis on the title. “My parents felt I could help them keep better track of the books and, when I inherited that glorious business, I'd be well established and on my way to becoming a gentleman.”
“I think many people would have been pleased to have such an opportunity,” Erana observed.
“Would you have been?” Kilren asked, gazing into the elf's fair eyes.
She refused to reply, but a knowing grin spread slowly across her face.
“Exactly!” Kilren nodded. “It's all well and good for someone else, but when you're the one who's going to be buried under piles of books and figures and coins, it's another matter. Well, after just a few weeks, I gave up on becoming a clerk and ran off. Since then, I've lived life as it's come and done whatever I needed to do to earn my bread. I'm not just a thief, you know.”
“Well, then, what are you?”
“Oh, I've been a groom, a guide, and a fisherman,” he began, counting on his fingers as he went. “I've pumped the bellows for a blacksmith in exchange for room and board. I was a tailor's apprentice for a few months once, and I've ridden with the escort of a small caravan. I've reaped fields and milled the grain that was gathered, and done a thousand other jobs.”
“Then, why steal?” she asked, the unpleasant tone creeping back into her voice.
“Well, it's a bit of excitement, isn't it,” he chuckled. “It also pays the best. Besides, there's something noble about taking gold from the undeserving.”
“Noble?” She asked, shaking her head. “I don't think Darian would agree.”
“No,” the rogue replied with a grin, “I'm sure he wouldn't. His view of the world is too narrow.”
“Perhaps your view is too broad,” Erana replied.
“Perhaps it is,” he said, laughing once again. “Either way, he makes an interesting traveling companion and I'm glad to be here to keep him out of trouble. How about you? Where do you come from?”<
br />
“The forests of Innalas,” was the elf's very direct answer.
“So much, I gathered,” Kilren said, raising his hand to his chin thoughtfully. “What with you being a ranger of Innalas sent on a quest by your father. However, I'm sure there's more to tell.”
“Not a great deal, actually,” she replied, shaking her head. “I've lived my entire life in the shades of that forest. Since I was a child, I've studied the ways of the plants and the animals. I was taught to use the bow and the blade to defend my homeland from great beasts and other threats. It's the life I was born to.”
“Surely, there's more to it than that,” Kilren said. “I mean; you weren't just born a ranger.”
“Actually, I was,” Erana laughed, “My father is a minor noble; I think he would be considered a baron in human lands. His oldest son is, of course, his heir. The rest of his children serve the kingdom in one capacity or another as per our law. I chose to serve as a ranger rather than as a courtier, a druid, or any of the other roles I could have accepted. I prefer to be in the wilds. So, it really is a matter of what I was born to.”
“I see. So, you're a lady?” the rogue asked.
“Yes, I am,” she answered with a noble nod. “However, it’s different for elves. It's a matter of responsibility, not luxury.”
“So, would it be beneath you to be romantically involved with a commoner?” Kilren inquired.
“I could marry a commoner,” she answered. “If that's what you mean.”
The Stars of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 1) Page 17