"...Rules the man. So I have heard, Great Caliph."
"You are both young. Perhaps, time will bring wisdom and she will see the logic of the situation.” The caliph clapped his hands twice and the grand vizier responded to the summons. After kneeling before the caliph and bowing his head to the floor, the grand vizier waited for his master to speak.
"Contact the astrologers, oracles, and learned historians. I wish to know all that is known about combating demons and other fell creatures. Send word to the Oasis of the Moon to search the archives. I will expect an answer in six days."
"It shall be done."
"Send word to the naibs of the ten tribes to prepare for war in the north in the spring. We shall be helping our new ally, the King of Aluria, deal with a rebellious duke and some dark sorcerers worse than the one in Solange so ably dispatched by Prince Rorrick."
"It shall be done.” The grand vizier bowed his head once more and rose.
"One final thing,” added the caliph. “Prince Rorrick shall be our guest for the next several days. I want quarters arranged for him with his own bath and garden. He will join me for all meals and councils. His voice is to be considered mine."
"It shall be done, Great Caliph. Welcome to Solange, Prince Rorrick. It is good to see you once more.” The grand vizier bowed a final time and left the room.
"More wine?"
* * * *
Rory awoke to the sweet scent of orange blossoms from the many fruit trees that filled the garden outside his room. He stretched and a soft voice asked, “Would you like your bath now, Prince Rorrick?"
It was Jasmine, one of the many slave girls assigned to this apartment to see to his comfort while he was the caliph's guest. “Yes, that would be nice."
Jasmine bowed and walked to the doorway to tell the others to prepare Rory's bath. She could not be much more than fourteen or fifteen, Rory decided. Amused he suddenly thought that such a young age when he himself was only eighteen, Rory slid from his bed and walked to the bath. His time in the Veil had eliminated any thoughts about personal modesty so being nude in front of the bathing girls did not trouble him, and neither did their nudity bother him, outside of an appreciative eye for their beauty. The caliph only had beautiful slaves, and these were perhaps some of the best in terms of physical perfection and intelligence.
Once he had bathed and been dried by the attentive girls, he followed what had become their morning ritual done as much to amuse the girls as it was to be practical. He summoned a desert sprite. “Assistance, please."
The desert sprite appeared. “Good morning, Prince Rorrick. How may I assist you?"
"The Great Caliph has informed me that we shall be meeting with the astrologers, oracles and historians today in what promises to be a long session. I would like to be comfortable as I sit through that meeting, so I would like my elven silks and other accoutrements as Crown Prince of the Forest."
"It shall be done,” intoned the desert sprite in a fair imitation of the grand vizier.
After dressing in the silver silks with the dark green trim, Rory let Jasmine comb and style his long raven hair. Once she had combed it free of all tangles and smoothed it, she drew it to a spot behind his head and enclosed it in a silver clasp. The long tail of hair was then plaited into a braid that reached to his waist where it was tied off using a fine silver wire. The circlet and emerald of his position as crown prince was then placed on his brow. When he stood, Jasmine slipped his dagger into the dark green sash that completed his outfit while another slave fastened his slippers to his feet.
Far taller than most of the desert people and dressed in his elven robes, Rory made an exotic sight as he walked to the chamber where he was to join the caliph and his advisors. The grand vizier was waiting for him as he approached.
After bowing respectfully, the grand vizier said, “Prince Rorrick, I was just coming to get you."
Rory smiled. “Sorry I'm late. The girls were playful this morning.” Rory knew the vizier would make his own interpretation of those words; Rory had been encouraged to take one or more of his slave girls to share his bed but he had not done so. Let the vizier think what he wished, Rory decided as they entered the chamber.
Rory greeted the caliph respectfully but without the kneeling and bows practiced by the Desert People. He sat on the indicated pillows on the caliph's right and focused his attention on what the historian was saying.
"Great Caliph,” continued the historian, “we did an exhaustive study of the archives as you requested but found only one document that dealt with a battle against great demons in the far past. This document was long believed to be an allegorical fable, and dismissed as just a fanciful tale. Your request made us reexamine it. Long ago, when we were first settling the Great Desert over a thousand years ago, our forbearers sent scouts to explore the lands around us. One group of scouts was sent to explore the vast forest of incredibly large trees that stretched from the edge of the Great Desert to the wall of mountains that lay far to the north. This tale was the report of the only member of that expedition to return.
"First, they encountered magical spirits of the trees and waters. Appearing as females, they enticed the scouts with earthly pleasures that defied description. Some of the scouts were lost in this manner, choosing to remain with these spirits rather than continue on."
Rory explained, “I know these spirits the tale describes. These would be the hamadryads and naiads, tree nymphs and water nymphs, who dwell within the trees and springs of the land. They are indeed female and quite attractive, and are given to luring the unsuspecting into relations both incredibly passionate and usually fatal as men cannot live inside the wood of a tree or beneath the surface of water."
The historian made some notes as Rory spoke. “Next they encountered small magical beings, no bigger than the length of an arm, which seemed to delight in playing mischievous tricks on the scouts."
Rory smiled. “That would be the pixies and sprites. While you have sprites that dwell here in the desert, I have not seen any pixies. I can see by your faces you find this hard to credit. Observe.” Rory cleared his mind and said, “Assistance, please."
The same small desert sprite appeared. “How may I be of assistance, Prince Rorrick?"
"I thirst for some ale from the Veil, and I would like to share it with the caliph. Would you bring me two tankards of it, please?"
Seconds later, the sprite appeared with two large mithrail tankards and a message. “Princess Bethany said to tell you they've reached the Veil safely and for you to stay away from the harem girls.” With a high-pitched laugh, the sprite vanished.
Handing the second tankard to the caliph, Rory said, “Seems your sprites like to play games, too. To your health, Great Caliph.” He raised his tankard and took a generous swallow of the sweet ale. The caliph tried a small sip and then followed that with a much deeper one. With a nod to the historian to continue, Rory sat back on his pillow.
"The scouts then encountered terrible beings just slightly smaller than themselves that hunted in groups. They seemed to hunt only at night and could see in the dark. If they caught a scout, they would fall on him and begin to eat him while he was still alive. As the scouts grew fewer, they were suddenly rescued by tall djinn wearing the colors of the forest, who wielded long swords and used great bows with which they shot arrows long distances and with incredible accuracy. Though their intervention, some of the scouts were saved. As the night crawlers fled, another foe appeared. Larger than any two scouts, with great tusks that jutted up from their lower jaws, these creatures would snatch a scout or even a djinn, rip them to pieces and then eat each piece one at a time. It took many of the djinn working together to slay the big creature.” The historian looked to Rory for confirmation.
"Sounds like orcs and ogres. Orcs are nasty pack fighters while ogres usually travel alone. I have fought them both and know they are hard to kill, although a sword or an arrow can usually do the job.” Rory took a sip of his ale. “The djinn were the Forest Lords, my
people."
"Now the scouts traveled with the djinn, the Forest Lords, and they came to the area of a great battle. Hundreds of the Forest Lords were fighting against many hundreds of these orcs and ogres, yet they were prevailing for a long time when a great beast appeared. Standing as tall as four men with red skin and flames where its eyes should be, this fell beast began slaughtering the Forest Lords. Nothing seemed to work against it, neither sword nor arrow, nor spear, not even the workings of the Forest Lord mages. It would rip trees from the ground and use them to batter scores of the Forest Lords down so it could scoop them up to eat. It would reach into the trees and pull out the screaming spirits and eat them as well. It laughed a bitter, haunting laugh as it consumed the Forces of Life that came against it."
Rory nodded his head. “That's a demon, a Lord of the Netherworld that thrives on terror and despair and feeds on the spirits of the living."
The historian blanched and then, swallowing hard, continued, “All appeared lost as the battle raged on for days and weeks. Vast areas of the forest were destroyed. Even the small rivers and brooks were wiped away in the devastation of the land by this demon. The Forest Lords and the sole remaining scout decided to make a final stand. As the Lord of the Netherworld approached, something wondrous appeared in the sky. A great blue flying beast with a long neck and tail, plus great wings that swept the air, and breath of fire. Upon the beast's back was a Forest Lord, shining silver in the sun from head to foot. He bore a huge lance that also shone in the light, all silver except for its tip which bore a point made of diamond. The Lord of the Netherworld roared its challenge. The flying beast dove upon the creature, breathing its fire at the demon's head. The fire did not bother the Lord of the Netherworld but it was momentarily blinded and in that moment, the Forest Lord drove the lance into its open mouth and through the length of it, exiting through its back and pinning it to the ground. The flying beast landed on the demon and began to rip it to pieces with its great fangs and claws, roasting the chunks until they burned away to nothing. The Dark Forces, seeing the great demon destroyed, turned and fled. The Forest Lords no longer had the strength to pursue them."
The historian concluded his tale by saying, “The scout reported they held a great feast in celebration of their deliverance from the Dark and invited the scout to remain with them. The scout demurred and was escorted back to the edge of the Great Desert. He returned to make his report, yet none believed him and he was banished into the desert."
Rory was stunned. Since every other creature described in this tale existed, it must be true then that the only way to defeat the demon was to find a dragon and convince it to help them. He would also need to fabricate a lance tipped with a huge diamond point to penetrate the demon's body, anchoring it to the earth so the dragon could destroy it. He shook his head. Where does one look for a dragon?
Chapter 34
Queen Arianna listened intently as Rory reported what he had learned during his recent visit to the Great Caliph of the Desert People and ruler of Solange. The news the caliph intended to honor his commitment to provide warriors in the war to come in spring was greeted with great cheers. As he discussed the tale told by the historian about the scouts sent north and their version of the battle that reduced the Great Forest to its present size, Arianna mentally compared it to the records she had studied in the archives of the Forest Lords. There had been tantalizing references that had been unclear before and yet now stood revealed in amazing clarity. The Forest Lords had indeed used a blue dragon, an ice dragon, to fight the demon raised against them but how that came to be was still a mystery, as well as what became of the diamond-tipped lance.
When he concluded his report, Arianna cleared her throat to attract the attention of her husband. “I believe this tale explains many of the ambiguities in our own records. There are references there to the mithrail rider with his spear born of fire and ice, while other passages speak of the steed he rode only as The Blue Death, which historians have decided was merely a horse's name. It could very easily have been a blue dragon."
King Brightblade said, “This explanation for how the demon was defeated in the past unfortunately does not help us now. Not only have we no idea what became of this lance, but we also have no knowledge whether dragons even still exist. None have been sighted in centuries and they have become creatures of myth and legend."
"So were elves until we began to interact with men outside the Veil,” Arianna reminded him. “Dragons may still exist somewhere. The challenge before us is to find one and convince it to help us once again. We must also find the lance."
"And where would you suggest we begin?"
"With the dwarves, of course. They must have made the lance in the first place. I have many contacts with them since my days of negotiating with them. We will go to them and see whether they can help us."
"Exactly who is the ‘we’ in your plan?” King Brightblade demanded.
"Rory and I, of course. Rory is the deadliest warrior we have and he's also a master mage. I'm a battle mage. I have experience with the dwarves no one else does. It should be self-evident."
"Why just the two of you? In case you haven't noticed, the enemy has been targeting queens lately."
"I'm hardly going to succumb to one of their attacks, if only because I'm not pregnant. Plus, who is going to look for us in the mountains of Kendrahl in winter? And once we go underground to the dwarves, they would have an even harder time reaching us. You may as well stop arguing about this with me because all you're going to do is embarrass yourself even more when you lose."
King Brightblade locked stares with Queen Arianna for a very long minute and knew she was right. Not only was she right about losing the argument, he also knew she was correct about taking Rory to see the dwarves. No matter how much he hated to admit it, Rory was a much better warrior and mage than he was. He was aware his own pride was all that prompted this argument and worse, he knew she knew it, too.
* * * *
"You're going where?” Bethany yelled. “You just got here!"
"The queen and I will be leaving in the morning for the Kendrahl Mountains to meet with the dwarves,” Rory explained again. “We have to get there before the heavier winter snows block the passes that lead to the kingdom of the dwarves."
"Why does it always have to be you, Rory?” whined Bethany.
"Because it just does, Beth. The mission to the dwarves must be small to avoid the appearance of being a threat and to limit detection. Arianna must go since she's the one with the contacts and she needs protection. Since I am both a master mage and one of the better warriors, she has commanded that I accompany her. She's the queen and I cannot tell her no."
Bethany admitted, “I know that, Rory. I really do. I just need you, too. I need to have you hold me in your arms and kiss me and make love to me and laugh with me. I need you for all the things a husband is supposed to do for his wife when she is pregnant. I know I am being selfish and stupid."
Rory took her in his arms, whispering, “We do have tonight, Beth. Let's not spoil it by fighting when we could be in one of the pools under the open sky filled with stars."
Part Six
KENDRAHL
Chapter 35
It was still dark when Arianna and Rory rode out of the Veil. Rory had left Bethany sleeping in their bed with a satisfied expression on her face. Elona had wished him luck and promised to keep an eye on Bethany. His father had come to see them off and he, too, promised to watch over his daughter-in-law. Gone were the silks and circlets; they each wore the mithrail mail and leathers of the warriors, along with their swords, daggers, and other weapons of choice. His extra weapon was his longbow and a quiver of arrows; hers was much more surprising. Strapped to her horse was a battle axe.
As they traveled through the Great Forest on the path that would eventually lead to the Kendrahl Mountains, Rory asked her about the axe. “This axe was a gift to me from one of the dwarves. He said that whenever I needed their assistance
, I was to send the axe back with a messenger."
"I would say that you will make an unexpected messenger, Your Majesty."
"Rory, we will be on the road for a long time; both alone and in the company of the dwarves. Why don't we leave the titles in our saddlebags for the duration? I know you can recall the time before I married your father, when we were just Rory and Arianna. Can't we go back to that while we are on this trip?"
"I think we can do that, Arianna, although we cannot go back to the way things were. You are married to my father and I am wed to Bethany."
"Bless you for that!” Arianna laughed. “I will admit that I enjoyed our time together and those memories sometimes cross my mind, but that was not what I was thinking about when I made my request."
"Arianna, I know but I couldn't resist teasing you just a bit. It is going to be a long road after all.” Rory laughed.
* * * *
They ran into the first snows as they climbed the pass into the duchy of Kendrahl. The sentry just waved them on, two anonymous figures on horseback. When Arianna asked aloud, Rory replied, “It's the dire wolf cloaks. These are the most well-known cloaks in the Kendrahl Mountains, especially this one with its two slits for the swords I wear. That sentry knew one of the figures who passed tonight was Rorrick of Westfell and the Great Forest. Sadly for you, I suspect he thought the other figure was Lord Swiftstalker."
Arianna laughed. “I can live with that, for it aids our cause of confusing the enemy. As long as I don't have to live up to Swiftstalker's reputation!"
They turned off the main road after two days, following an obscure path that wound up one of mountains. They passed a few isolated settlements, but were soon far away from anyone. Snow fell once again and before long, it was too dark to push on so they had to stop. After building a small fire to cook their meal, they settled in for the night, wrapped in their great wolf cloaks. The qualities of their mithrail mail provided a small level of warmth that kept them snug and warm throughout the cold night.
The Heir Of Westfall [The Alurian Chronicles Book 1] Page 31