The Heir Of Westfall [The Alurian Chronicles Book 1]

by Christopher W. Wilcox, Sr.

  * * * *

  Rory sat on the bench below the stone sphere that was the Heart of the Veil. He opened his mind to the sphere and rode down the ley lines toward the border between Westfell and Eastfell. General Gustav had mustered the Wolves of Westfell and they now manned every tower and fort along that border. Scouts regularly patrolled there, watching for any incursion from the east. Rory probed deep into the earth, searching and then finding exactly what he was looking for, a thick vein of mithrail silver that ran east. He shifted his senses along that mithrail, deep in its core, masked from the dark forces guarding the borders above.

  Every so often, he would send up a tiny tendril of thought to examine what lay above. What he found sickened him. The lands of Eastfell were ruined, fields lay fallow and empty. What livestock there was appeared to be starving and abandoned. What he couldn't find were any people. He moved deeper along the mithrail, coming ever closer to the keep itself. It was here he found what had become of the people of the farms and other holdings closer to the border. The old and infirm were herded into pens like cattle. Guarding those pens were orcs and goblins. The very young were all grouped in a crèche, tended by young girls. The older girls were also penned up; they were inside and were being used as pleasure slaves for the duke and the Outsiders who lived within the keep. Those who were used thus were actually the lucky ones; others were being given to the dark sorcerers for their blood rites. The central tower of the keep gleamed red in the sunlight from the fresh blood that coated the sides of the building. The young boys were being raised in regimented barracks as future soldiers for the vast army into which all the older youths and able-bodied men had been conscripted. The older women, those middle-aged or worn out through the labors of their lives, were also penned, and were being fed rich foods. It wasn't until one woman was taken away that Rory realized why. She was food for the demon that lived under the keep.

  Rory slipped away before the Dark could detect him, traveling quickly through the mithrail back to the Heart of the Veil. As he reopened his eyes, he drew a deep shuddering breath. It was far worse than they had believed.

  "Did you succeed?” asked Arianna.

  "Yes, it worked. We face our worst nightmares in Eastfell. Not only do they have dark sorcerers practicing blood rites, but they have also released goblins and at least one demon from their dimensional hell. The people of Eastfell are being forced into slavery or worse. Some are sacrificed by the sorcerers while others are being eaten alive by the demon and the goblins. We shall be forced to fight on this plane of existence, as well as several others. Their army is far larger than before, more massive than the combined forces of Westfell and Aluria, even with our elven warriors added to the mix. And while our warriors fight the physical battles, our mages must combat their dark sorcerers in a metaphysical struggle which could easily determine the fate of our very world."

  Chapter 31

  "I agree the news is dire, Rory, but all we can do with the information is to plan our strategy for Eastfell,” King Brightblade said. “Obviously, we must account for the superior numbers of their forces while dealing with their dark sorcerers as well. You have had experience dealing with orcs before; you know how formidable they can be when they can mass in large numbers. Goblins are far worse."

  Arianna said, “The physical attack is not what worries me. Rory has seen that the dark sorcerers call upon their blood magic even now, and have done so enough that they have painted the outside of the tower with the blood of their sacrifices. What are they doing with all the dark magic they are calling up? I grant that some of it must be used to summon their dark allies from the netherworld, but what else are they doing?"

  "We have no way of knowing. Rory was lucky to have penetrated as deeply as he did without being detected. You know the risks. Had the dark sorcerers detected him and captured his essence, even now his soul would be in torment in the darkest regions of the netherworld,” Windwalker said. “I must forbid any further attempts to probe Eastfell in this manner. Those of you strong enough to make such an attempt are too important to risk."

  "Rory, I need you to travel to Westfell and Aluria and explain your findings to the king and his councilors. They must know what we face,” Brightblade said.

  "Of course, Father, and I ask your leave to take my wife along while she can still travel. She does not know it yet but once we return from this trip, she will not be leaving the Veil again until after the baby is born and the war against Eastfell is settled."

  Arianna said, “I don't think she will like that, Rory. Perhaps you should refrain from telling her just now. One war at a time, if you don't mind."

  The king's council laughed, acknowledging the truth of the queen's words. Princess Bethany had a temper few cared to cross, a fact which no one knew until she became pregnant and felt out of sorts.

  "I think you're right.” Rory laughed ruefully. “Did you know she actually threatened to burn the tree around Elona the other day when Elona refused to let my wife have some pickles? Elona had merely pointed out that eating pickles would just make Bethany vomit again. Are all women so unreasonable when they are pregnant?"

  "Normally, pregnant women have other concerns to occupy their time. Taking her back outside will give her something else to do, and that should improve her state of mind and her temper,” Arianna said. “At least, I hope it will. I'll admit to having no personal experience with pregnancy."

  * * * *

  Rory reached the hiakehla in time to hear yet another shouting match going on between his wife and the wood nymph. He threw open the door and shouted, “That's enough!” He walked over to his crying wife and said, “Get hold of yourself, Beth, and stop acting like such a spoiled child!"

  This, of course, made her cry that much harder. Dealing with the shifting hormones of her first trimester, combined with her absolute boredom, was shredding her dignity and her emotions.

  "Elona, would you please join us?” Rory asked quietly.

  When the angry wood nymph appeared, Rory said, “I am sorry about all this, but it will stop right now. Bethany, we are leaving the Veil. Change your clothes into something suitable for a trip to Westfell right now. Elona, please make sure enough clothes are packed into our saddlebags for the journey, which should take four days as I do not intend to push very hard in light of Beth's condition. We will also need some journey rations."

  "Oh, Rory, we don't have to leave. I'll behave, I promise!” Bethany sobbed.

  "This trip is not about you, Beth. I must confer with my grandfather and the king. I thought you might enjoy coming with me and seeing Ilara and the queen. We will be back before winter truly sets in."

  As she started up the stairs toward their bedroom, Bethany said, “What can I wear? I came here in men's trousers and they will hardly fit me now."

  "Beth, I think you will find they will fit just fine. I keep telling you that you hardly show at all yet.” Rory shook his head. “Believe me, if you were that far along, you would not be making the journey on a horse!"

  * * * *

  Queen Arianna had her own surprise for Rory and Beth waiting at the stables. Neither one would be making the journey to Westfell on a horse. Instead, a wagon had been prepared for their use. Inside the back of the wagon were some kegs of ale and bottles of wine for both Duke Richard and King William, along with trunks of clothes and food. “I thought this would make your journey more comfortable and safer for Bethany. The wagon will force you to travel more slowly than you otherwise would."

  "Arianna, thank you for being so thoughtful. I have been behaving poorly and I know it. Please forgive me."

  "Child, there is nothing to forgive. No one, not even Elona, is mad at you,” Arianna said gently. “We all just want you to be happy, and to have a healthy baby. Now, give me a hug and get up on the wagon. You have a long journey ahead of you."

  After Bethany was seated, Rory hugged the Queen of the Forest. “Take good care of my father."

  "I shall,” Arianna said, a tear
forming in her eye. “And you both be careful. Aluria is not a safe place anymore."

  They had not traveled far from the Great Forest when Rory heard the pounding of horse's hooves coming from behind them. He drew the team of horses to a stop and waited. Moments later, the horse and rider reached them.

  "Mind some company on the road, lad?” Swiftstalker said.

  "I was wondering when you'd show up!” Rory laughed. “Of course we will enjoy your company, Uncle, but you must promise me one thing."

  "What's that?"

  "That you will leave the ale and wine alone! These are for King William and my grandfather, but if you're lucky, maybe they will share."

  * * * *

  No one appeared to notice the wagon and its occupants as they drove through the village outside the keep. It was a cool evening and the wind was developing a bit of winter's bite, so most people were indoors near their fires. The lone horseman and the couple in the wagon were shrouded in nondescript heavy wool cloaks, with the hoods pulled up over their heads. As they reached the gate to the keep, one of the Wolves stepped out into the wind and waved them to a stop.

  "What brings you folks out on a night like this?"

  Rory pulled back his hood. “Coming home for a visit."

  "Lord Rorrick! Lady Bethany, too!” The guard glanced at the horseman and added, “Lord Swiftstalker! Please, go on through and get out of this wind and cold."

  Maneuvering the wagon through the twisted entry of the sally port took every bit of skill Rory could muster but he finally drew it to a halt in front of the steps just as the main doors opened and Duke Richard strode out. “Rory! Bethany! I could not believe it when one of the guards ran in saying you had arrived. And in a wagon, no less."

  "How else could we bring you half of this wine and ale, Grandfather?” Rory laughed.

  "Only half?” asked the duke.

  "The rest belongs to King William, sir!” Swiftstalker said. “And I shall protect it from anyone who dares think otherwise."

  "And who shall protect it from you, Lord Swiftstalker?” Bethany asked as Rory assisted her from the wagon.

  * * * *

  "Rory, you are a sight for sore eyes. I hadn't expected you home until spring,” Duke Richard said while they enjoyed their dinner. Mistress Margaret and Ilara had shared the duties in the dining room, with Ilara hovering protectively over Bethany.

  "I have news of Eastfell for you and the king, and thought I would bring Bethany along to give her a break from the Veil.” Rory sipped his ale. “Once my business with the king is done, we shall return to the Veil, and I think we will take Ilara with us to keep Bethany company."

  "On days such as this one, I sit by the fire and think about how nice and warm it must be in the Veil. I have found your spa, and use it regularly to ease my aching joints. Thank you for having it made."

  "I did it as much for myself as I did for you, Grandfather. I am getting too tall for your copper tubs.” Rory looked over at Bethany and lifted one eyebrow.

  "Grandfather, we have something else to tell you. You are going to be a great-grandfather in the summer. Arianna says it will be a boy,” Bethany said, a proud smile on her face.

  Richard, Duke of Westfell, abandoned dignity and let out a loud whoop of delight. He rushed over and embraced Bethany, then pounded Rory on the back. “Wait until General Gustav hears about this. He will have much advice for you, lad. Bethany, you may wish to talk with Rachel. She recently gave birth to a strapping boy, you know."

  Mistress Margaret offered her congratulations while Ilara just beamed with tears of joy running down her cheek. “With your permission, Your Grace, I would like to spread this happy news,” Mistress Margaret said.

  "By all means,” replied the overjoyed duke. “Invite them all to a celebration in honor of the happy parents to be held tomorrow night."

  * * * *

  By mutual and unspoken agreement, the discussion regarding Eastfell was not held until the following morning. General Gustav and his top staff joined Duke Richard, Swiftstalker, and Rory in the duke's library. Rory had explained how he finally penetrated the magical screens guarding Eastfell and the terrible price being paid by the people there for their duke's treason.

  "This will make the war to unite Aluria seem like a picnic on a summer's afternoon in comparison. Are you sure of the numbers, Lord Rorrick?” asked General Gustav.

  "It appears that every able-bodied lad and man within the borders of Eastfell has been conscripted into the duke's army. There were hosts of orcs surrounding the camp, probably to prevent any mutiny or escapes. I do not know what roles the goblins or the demon will play in the actual fighting."

  Duke Richard shook his head. “I cannot understand how anyone could welcome the Dark as Eastfell has done. Rory, how do we fight a demon?"

  "To be honest, Grandfather, I don't know. It is the worst of the dark creatures that dwell in the netherworld and it will require magic to stop it. Queen Arianna is studying the ancient ballads of the last war between Life and Dark to see if she can find any clue how the demons were defeated and banished then.” Rory sighed. “Putting aside the magical elements, we are physically outnumbered and we will be fighting on their ground. I pray the Great Caliph honors his pledge."

  "What do we do now, Rory?” his grandfather asked.

  "Continue what we have been doing. Spend the winter training the new soldiers in the Wolves while making sure Eastfell does not attack us first. Vigilance along the border is a must. If there is time, build more fortifications at key points where they might attempt to invade.” Rory looked at the map lying across the table. “I shall advise the king the same. We must keep their forces within Eastfell until we are ready to face him. Otherwise, he will swallow Aluria piece by piece."

  * * * *

  The feast the night before had been smaller than those Rory recalled from the past and it took him a while to reason out why. There were fewer men. Once the harvest had been brought in, those who could had gone off to be trained to fight. The people had been called upon to give what they could in the defense of Westfell, and they had answered. Those who were left behind were too old to fight or whose occupation too vital to the villagers and the keep.

  While the celebration may have been smaller, it was no less joyous. The people of Westfell had grown to love their heir, and the news that the line would continue with the birth of his son had cheered them. Some happy news to mix with the threat of war, and thus it was given even more weight. The birth would imply a future beyond the war and this gave them even more reason to celebrate.

  Duke Richard had even broached one of the kegs of elven ale and between himself, Rory, General Gustav, and Swiftstalker, they had finished it. Lady Bethany had long departed the festivities, amused at her husband and his grandfather as they stood atop a table singing bawdy songs with Swiftstalker and the general, yet tired from the trip and her pregnancy. So she had retired for the night.

  Duke Richard's head was pounding. He had but one thought, and that was to soak in the spa beneath the keep. Since he knew the way quite well, he didn't bother any of the pixies and just went down the winding staircase that led deep under the keep and over to the heavy door that sealed the spa, trapping the heat and steam inside.

  As usual, he couldn't see anything as he made his way inside. The heavy steam always did that to him but it didn't matter as he knew his way around the chamber. He dropped his clothes on a bench and eased into the pool. Ah, the blessed heat felt good as it eased his muscles and joints. The steam would clear his head soon enough. He dunked his head under the water, keeping it there as long as he could and then surfaced, brushing his sodden white hair back from his face. That was when he realized he was eye to eye with Rory.

  "Good morning, Grandfather."

  "Rory! I didn't know you were in here!"

  "Obviously. Don't worry about it, Grandfather. I have spent the past several months living in the Veil, remember? And if your head feels like mine, then this is the plac
e you need to be. Of course, in the Veil, we would have first plunged into an icy pool before soaking in one like this.” Rory chuckled. “I had thought it was Bethany coming to join me as she was still asleep when I slipped from our chamber. It wasn't until you were already in the pool that I realized it was you, instead."

  "I am quite sure you would find her more pleasant company.” Duke Richard chuckled. “At least she had the wisdom not to drink as much as we did."

  "Since she found out she is with child, she has stopped drinking alcohol altogether except for the rare sip to acknowledge a toast. It also gives her great joy to tease me whenever I drink a little too much."

  "Ah, this heat feels good on my old bones,” said the duke as he lay back in the hot spa along one of the stone rests that had been built for this exact purpose. Both men were dozing slightly as the door to the spa eased open.

  Bethany started to slip off her robe when Rory said, “Before you go much farther, darling, you might want to know Grandfather is in the pool with me at the moment."

  Bethany gave a small shriek as she pulled her robe up quickly. “I will leave you two to your baths. Would you please let me know when the spa is available?"

  As the door closed, she could swear she heard laughter from her husband and the Duke. Men!

  * * * *

  When Duke Richard and Rory returned upstairs to face the day, they found a courier waiting for them outside the library. “It's from the king,” Duke Richard said as he examined the seals. He scanned the message and the color drained from his face. “The queen is gravely ill, and none of the court physicians can determine why. They fear for her life and that of the unborn heir."

  "We must go to Aluria at once.” Looking toward the fireplace, Rory said, “Assistance, please,” to summon one of the house pixies.

  "Prince Rorrick! How may I be of assistance?” said the diminutive sprite.

  "Get a message to Queen Arianna that she is needed immediately in Aluria. Queen Beatrice is dying. Tell her that we are on our way there today."