The Heir Of Westfall [The Alurian Chronicles Book 1]

by Christopher W. Wilcox, Sr.

  "Now I know you are teasing me."

  "Hah!” Elona winked at him. “If you ever want to try wood, I'm your nymph. And that is an offer I have never made to anyone else."

  * * * *

  Arianna was waiting for him at the entrance to the Heart. “Today we shall take a different tack in your training. I spoke with your father this morning and we discussed your return to the outside. You will face many challenges there and I must prepare you for some of them.” She led him away from the entrance and back to another of the smaller eating areas. “Sit and we shall begin."

  As he sat at the small table, she placed two mugs before them. “Examine these two mugs and tell me what you see."

  On the surface, the two mugs were nearly identical. Each had a single handle and would hold about ten ounces of liquid. They were suitable for hot drinks as well as cold. They each held a steaming liquid he suspected was a tea of some kind. He extended his senses further and felt something wrong about the one on the right. The tea had been contaminated with something else. It had been poisoned.

  "The one on my right has been poisoned."

  "Exactly. You must learn to gauge whether the foods and drinks offered to you are free of subtle poisons. Can you determine how the poison can be changed into something harmless so you may drink from the cup?” Arianna asked.

  He looked deeper into the cup. He began to see how a minor change here and there would convert the poisons into a harmless mix. He reached out to the force around them and drew it into the cup, changing the liquid. Before she could react, he swept the cup up in his hand and drained it to the last drop.

  Arianna gasped and extended her senses deep into his body, searching for the poison she had placed into the tea. When she found none, she looked at his smiling face and said, “That was foolish. You should have let me check to make sure it was safe."

  "Will you be at my side outside to check my food and drink? I must take my own risks. Not that I truly believe there was a risk. I suspected you would have been able to change the poisons even as they acted within me. That, too, I must learn to do, for there is always a chance that somehow a poison may slip past my guard. I must be able to fight them, even when they are inside me trying to kill me."

  "You are correct. That is yet another task we must complete. This will be dangerous because there is, as you say, the opportunity for mischance for a poison to get inside you and you be disabled enough to prevent you from successfully altering it into something harmless. I will monitor you and be ready to intervene if needed. At random times, we will attempt to slip poison into your food or drink, so you must be vigilant."

  "That makes sense."

  "I should also warn you that Winterstar has told the young warriors to start stalking you and to attack without warning. The prince says you are to carry your sword at all times, except when you enter the Heart. If you look behind you, you will find your sword and dagger."

  Rory looked back and saw Wolf Fang, along with a second sword that looked like a twin of the first. He buckled the special crossed scabbard harness across his chest and then checked the draw of the weapons. They felt ... right, sitting back there.

  Rory drew the new sword from its scabbard and admired the craftsmanship that had gone into creating the gleaming weapon. “Does this sword bear a name?"

  Arianna shook her head. “Naming this sword will be up to you, but you'll know what it is called when the time is right."

  Rory returned the blade to its sheath. “So I can expect to be randomly attacked by the young warriors at any time outside of the Heart. I can also expect to be poisoned at any time.” Rory laughed. “Was it something I said?"

  * * * *

  Rory quickly learned to keep his senses extended to detect anything unusual in his surroundings. While a warrior walking along a path was not usual, one hiding off of it was odd enough to attract his attention. Whenever that would happen, he would motion Arianna to hold back while he went forward to just short of the trap. He would then call out the warrior, identifying where he was hiding. The warriors grew frustrated at being unable to surprise him and started working together to develop more elaborate traps. They enjoyed a limited success when they used natural elements as passive traps, such as snares. Unfortunately for the warriors, his speed with the sword usually meant the snare was slashed to pieces before it could completely close over his foot.

  One enterprising warrior positioned himself in a tree at some distance, along with a vine he could use to swing down on Rory, hoping to penetrate his defenses before Rory could react. To assist as a distraction, several snares were arranged along the trail at the point where the rope would swing across. As Rory stopped to deal with one of the snares, the warrior launched himself silently into space. Unfortunately for the warrior, Rory's sword spun through the air and cut the rope just as he reached the trail but before the warrior could employ his own weapon to block the slash. His momentum carried him across the trail and into the thorny rosebushes beyond. It was truly an ignominious moment as he crashed face first into the dirt and thorns.

  One side effect of his constant vigilance was being able to immediately detect which dishes and drinks had been altered with a poison or even an emetic. He soon learned to adjust the adulterant as he approached the table so he could pick up the glass that had been poisoned a moment before and toss its contents down his throat. The first few times, Arianna reacted with momentary panic until she realized the game he was playing with them. It was obvious the lessons had been learned.

  Even amid this constant vigilance, he and Arianna found moments to explore their growing relationship. They spent time in the heated pool within the Heart, knowing they would be safe from the weapons of the warriors. Their nights were spent in Rory's chambers as Arianna furthered his education in physical intimacy. Swiftstalker and Prince Brightblade often teased the two lovers, but it was a good-natured harassment. Even Elona accepted Arianna's presence in the tree and started bringing food and drink to them each evening when they returned to the hiakehla and again in the mornings.

  Within the Heart, Rory began using the ley lines to study the realm outside the Veil. Westfell Keep had been built on the junction of two lines and was easy to reach. He drifted like a ghost through the halls of the keep, seeing his grandfather sitting quietly in his study reading one of his many books and the general, now married to Rachel, working with a new batch of trainees. Another line took him to Aluria itself where he studied the king as he sat in Council, trying to understand the man to whom he would soon be swearing fealty to as the Heir to Westfell, and later, as the Duke of Westfell. He also cast about for a glimpse of Bethany but could not locate her within the court; perhaps she had returned to her family's estate now that an engagement had been arranged. Remembering the kindness he had felt from Duke Armand of Kendrahl, he explored in that direction. Following the ley line that led toward Kendrahl, he started to feel something wrong, a sick feeling coming from that direction.

  "Arianna, as I recall, you have spent time in Kendrahl. Please join with me now. I sense something is wrong there.” Taking her hand to establish a physical connection to their mental link, he led her along the ley line toward the wrongness he had felt but could not put a name to. As they explored deeper into Kendrahl, they came across isolated villages that had been destroyed. Here the feeling of evil was even stronger. 'What could have done this? It does not feel natural!'

  Arianna replied, 'I have felt this before, Rory. This is the work of ogres. We must inform King Alaric.'

  They withdrew from the melding and left the Heart. Stopping at the first marker they encountered, Arianna said, “Assistance, please."

  A small pixie appeared. “How may I assist you, Lady Arianna?"

  "Where is King Alaric? We must speak to him immediately."

  The pixie vanished momentarily and then returned to say, “The king is in council with Prince Brightblade and Winterstar. He says you are to join him there."

  Rory thanked the
pixie and then followed Arianna as she raced through the maze of pathways. Even in the heat of their discovery, Rory never relaxed his vigilance. The poor warrior who tried to ambush him never realized Rory was close until he found himself staring at the point of the sword pressed against his throat. “I do not have time to play right now as peoples’ lives are at stake. Pass the word that the next person who ambushes me between here and the king will bleed."

  Whether it was coincidence or the warning, they encountered no further ambushes as they raced to the Council Garden. As the name implied, the Council Garden was a large garden that had been adopted as the meeting place for the King's Council. When Arianna and Rory entered, they found the king, the prince, and Winterstar waiting for them. Winterstar started to leave but Rory held up his hand. “Please stay. Your council will be valuable."

  King Alaric stood. “Can this really be Rorrick? He has grown to be a giant among us. Arianna, my child, how are you?"

  Arianna said, “I am fine, Your Majesty. We bring ill tidings. Ogres are loose in the Kendrahl Mountains."

  Chapter 13

  Despite the urgency of the situation, it still took several days before the war party was ready to leave the Veil. While they assembled, the mages in the Heart worked to ameliorate the worst of the weather between the Great Forest and the Kendrahl Mountains to permit a faster journey. Riders had been sent to the Duke of Westfell and the Duke of Kendrahl to inform them of the situation so they did not misunderstand the large group of warriors and battle mages who would soon be crossing their territory.

  Prince Brightblade entered Rory's chamber in the hiakehla. “I have a gift for you. I had intended to give you this before you departed for the outside in the spring, but you will need it now."

  Rory took the extended package and opened it. His breath caught in his throat as the mithrail silver mail shirt came into view. Incredibly light yet stronger than plate steel, mithrail mail could stop a direct thrust with a lance as it drew upon the power of the life force around it to protect its wearer. “I cannot find the words to thank you for such an extravagant gift, Father."

  Prince Brightblade smiled. “You'll find the package also contains matching gloves and coif. The gloves are not the clumsy things worn outside but are supple and limber enough to pick up a small coin. They will not hinder your hands in any way. I have also had the pixies make a small alteration in the magnificent wolf cloak of yours. You will find two small slits have been added to permit the hilts of your swords to extend outside the cloak. This will permit you to draw your swords even while wearing the cloak should the need arise.” Prince Brightblade sighed. “Fighting in winter is bad enough, but it will be even worse in the Kendrahls. At least we can draw on the force to help keep us warm while we push our way into the mountains hunting for the ogres."

  "When will we be ready to leave?” Rory's impatience stemmed from the knowledge that every second wasted meant more innocent people dying at the hands and teeth of the ogres.

  "That's another reason I am here, son. Get your mail on and gather your gear. It is time to go."

  * * * *

  Rory was mounted on Storm once more; his heavy cloak settled about his shoulders. The pixies had done their work well for the hilts of his swords slipped quite naturally through the slits they had made, yet the snow and cold did not penetrate. The mithrail gloves and coif drew a small level of energy from the life force to keep his hands and head warm as well. He rode on the right side of Prince Brightblade, who was commanding this war party, while Winterstar rode on the other side of the prince. It was Winterstar who insisted Rory stay close to his father.

  "It is not because he is your son, my Prince. It is because he is the best fighter any of us have ever seen and I want him between you and whatever crosses our path. Your son is now your bodyguard, just as your brother Swiftstalker is his,” Winterstar said. “If it has the added benefit of him learning how to lead a group like this, so much the better. Don't think the warriors believe this is any show of favoritism; most of them have tried unsuccessfully to ambush your son and they have a healthy respect for his abilities. They know why he's in front."

  Embarrassed, Rory just shrugged his shoulders with a what-can-you-do expression. Finally, the party moved out. They rode in a column of three with the leaders at the head. The warriors behind them carried the pennants for Brightblade and for Westfell to identify themselves to all who chanced to see them. Behind the pennants rode one hundred twenty warriors and thirty battle mages, the most formidable force the elves had fielded in nearly a thousand years.

  "Why so many?” Rory had asked his father, but it was Winterstar who answered.

  "Two reasons, really. Our warriors are young and few have ever fought fell creatures. Ogres are nasty brutes and are very hard to kill, so we will lose more than a few of these warriors in the process. The second reason is we must have a decisive victory over them, and wipe out each and every one of them we find. Ogres cannot be permitted to roam above, killing and eating everything they encounter."

  "And the battle mages?” Rory asked.

  "Ogres are really very stupid creatures and not given to much ambition. We think someone is behind this incursion. That means we may run into more than just ogres, so we have come prepared to deal with whatever we find."

  * * * *

  It took two days to reach the border into Kendrahl, and they found a messenger from the duke waiting there patiently.

  "I bring you greetings and welcome from Armand, Duke of Kendrahl. He extends his appreciation for the timely warning and invites the Prince of the Forest and the Heir of Westfell to Kendrahl Keep."

  Prince Brightblade shook his head. “Please tell Duke Armand that I deeply regret being unable to accept his invitation at this time, but we must hasten to find and destroy the fell creatures that even now slaughter the citizens of Kendrahl. I ask his pardon and promise we will stop by the keep on our way home after dealing with them."

  The courier smiled. “His Grace expected that response. He bid me to say, and I quote, ‘So why are you sitting there on your horse chatting with my messenger when you could be riding after the ogres?'” The messenger saluted the prince. “I bid you well, Prince of the Forest, and good hunting to you all.” He moved his horse to permit the war party to ride past. As they did, the messenger watched in awe. All his life, he had been told stories about elves but seeing the tall and beautiful beings made him realize the tales had fallen short.

  * * * *

  The morning of their second day in Kendrahl, a feeling of uneasiness came over Rory. He gestured to Winterstar to hold the advance, and Winterstar held up one hand. The war party stopped, and Rory slowly eased his horse forward, questing about with his expanded senses. He detected no life ahead but the feeling of danger remained. He scanned the rising walls of rock that defined this pass deeper into the mountains for anything that could be causing this feeling of impending disaster. There didn't seem to be anything here except rock and snow. Snow. Rory returned his gaze to the heavy banks of snow along the edges of the pass. That was the source of the danger.

  Before he had trained with the sword, Rory was quite proficient with a bow. His innate ability to use the life force to guide his arrows meant that Rory never missed. If he could see it, he could hit it. When Swiftstalker gave Rory an elven longbow, the range at which Rory was devastatingly accurate increased far beyond what any human could have reached. This shot would be a true test of his abilities.

  He nocked an arrow with a blunt head to the string and drew far back, the great longbow bent almost double until only the tip of the arrow rested on the bow. He sighted very carefully, fixing the exact spot he wanted the arrow to strike. His focus was so great the spot seemed to be only a few yards away. He released the arrow.

  Guided by his skill and the application of the energy of the life force, the arrow slashed upward at a blazing speed, slamming into the single boulder he had spotted above the snow with enough energy to shatter the rock in a s
mall explosion. The concussion was of sufficient force to cause the massive bank of snow to begin to slip. Once in motion, it gained momentum and transformed from a still snowbank into a tumbling, raging avalanche that crushed and buried everything before it.

  "Nice shot!” Winterstar said. “That looked like a bit more than half a mile. I would never have believed anyone could shot an arrow that distance with any accuracy."

  Rory shrugged. “It's no real problem to hit what I aim at when I can use the life force to guide the arrow."

  Winterstar looked over the snow-choked pass as the rumbles of the avalanche died away. “Now that you buried the pass, which way do we go?"

  Rory gestured. “Up there, above the snow. We may have to walk the horses for a while to get past the deeper stuff."

  Winterstar groaned. “I hate snow."

  Rory tugged on Storm's reins and led the way up the side of the pass above the fallen snow shelf. The avalanche had pulled away the snow from above, so the area to which he led them was relatively clear and the war party began to move even faster through the pass. Rory kept his senses questing around them.

  * * * *

  At the other end of the pass, Rory once again felt danger ahead. This time it was accompanied by a sense of evil. The war party halted and several of them moved forward to see what lay ahead.

  There was a group of ogres gathered around in what remained of a village square. This was the first time Rory had seen an ogre and he decided the children's cautionary tales had not done enough to describe the hideous monsters. The average ogre in the group was about twelve feet tall with a misshapen body. Short legs, long arms, with a barrel chest. Their heads had short, rearward-sloped foreheads from which stubby horns protruded. Their lower jaws extended farther forward to permit the massive tusks to thrust upward at the corners of their mouths. Between the tusks were other teeth, yellow and twisted. Their noses resembled the snouts of a wild boar, as did their feral beady eyes, which were red in color. Overall, their skin was dirty gray in color and covered with long coarse hair. They wore garments made from poorly cured animal skins, with more of of the same wrapped around their feet. Their long arms ended in massive hands tipped with talons that measured six inches in length. They were all squatting in a rough circle around the terrified and screaming villagers. Each ogre held a villager in one hand and they were slowly ripping the legs off and eating them. When one ogre bit down on the head of the villager he was holding, the crunch of the shattering skull could be heard where the elven scouts lay observing the scene.