Elvangar

by Richard S. Tuttle

“No,” the queen shook her head. “I never had the chance. They were dragged out of the room before I could recover from the pain. Why?”

  The color drained out of Malid’s face. He stepped forward and bowed to the queen.

  “The Council of Elders was advised that you demanded a speedy trial and execution of the two known as Mistake and MistyTrail,” declared Malid. “We have been in discussion all day over this matter,” he added as he glanced at Volox.

  “Who authorized this?” asked the queen. “And why didn’t the Head Elder come to me to confirm such a weighty matter?”

  “Karaza brought word to me,” answered Malid. “As for checking with you, the palace was closed immediately after the attack. Even I was not allowed admission.”

  “None of this makes sense,” frowned Queen Alycia. “The girls did attack me, and indeed if they had not stopped, they might have killed me, but I do not believe that was their intent. We were all angry. I overreacted by hitting one, and the other magically struck back. They are insolent young women and deserve a severe punishment, but I will not stand for someone else putting words into my mouth. Karaza will get an earful from me on this matter.”

  “Do you remember what they said as the guards entered the room?” asked Volox.

  “The one called Mistake shouted for the other to stop,” shrugged the queen. “That is how I know they did not intend me harm. They are still barbaric. If you think that will make me excuse their conduct, Volox, you are mistaken.”

  “Actually,” Volox said softly, “from the reports of the guards, Mistake pleaded for MistyTrail to release the spell because she was hurting their mother.”

  “How dare you?” snapped the queen. “I will not have you people constantly dragging up my past family whenever it suits your needs. I forbid you to mention this subject any more. Do you understand me?”

  Volox stepped closer to the queen and handed her the scroll. He immediately stepped back in case her anger took a more physical route. The queen huffed as she unrolled the scroll and read it. Her facial features grew taut as she read it until finally she threw the scroll on the floor.

  “What rubbish is this you have given me?” she snarled. “If there is one more attempt to get me to believe those girls are related to me, I will have you all hung.”

  “That scroll is one of the later Prophecies of Kieran,” declared Garl. “Why should reading the prophecies of your ancient ancestor get you so upset?”

  “Because it's such an obvious attempt to trick me,” scowled the queen. “I will not stand for it.”

  “Have you stopped to listen to yourself?” sighed Garl. “Everyone appears to be tricking you into making you believe that your lost daughters have returned. Even your ancient ancestor Kieran is in on the joke. Now tell me, what is the purpose of this charade? Even if the girls were falsely accepted as your daughters, they would not endanger your rule. So what does everyone hope to gain from this farce? Think clearly for a moment, Alycia. What if beyond all hope, your daughters actually did survive that tragic day somehow? You have convinced yourself through your grief that it is impossible, but what if it were true? Think about how you are treating these girls. They were almost executed today. Could you ever forgive yourself if you later found out that they miraculously survived the sinking of the ship?”

  “It can’t be,” Queen Alycia shook her head vigorously. “It is not possible. Don’t make me go through this again, Garl. For Kaltara’s sake, have mercy on me.”

  “Kaltara has blessed you in more ways than you know,” Garl said softly. “I taught those girls the Kieran compulsion spell. The Kieran magic is strong with both of them. I am glad that the guards intervened to save your life, because it could have killed you, and if that happened, those girls would be motherless once again.”

  “Stop it!” cried Queen Alycia. “Just stop it!”

  The queen fell to her knees and began crying. Her hands gripped her hair and pulled savagely. Garl knelt next to the queen and put his arm around her shoulders. He gently pried her fingers away from her hair.

  “Why, Garl?” sobbed the queen. “Why are you doing this? Is this my punishment for banishing you? Is that it?”

  “No, Alycia,” soothed the old man. “I have never sought to harm you, and I never will, but I will not let you harm Alahara or Alastasia either. They turned into beautiful women, Alycia. I can see Avalar’s features in their faces.”

  The queen looked into Garl’s eyes for a long moment as if she could detect the truth of his statements. A vision of Mistake and MistyTrail as they appeared that morning flashed before her eyes. Slowly she nodded.

  “There was a resemblance to Avalar,” she said softly. “Garl, please don’t do this to me. Don’t raise a false hope where none exists. Can’t you let them stay dead?”

  “Isn’t that what I did when I moved to Etta?” asked Garl. “All these years I still believed that they lived, but I did not bother you with my feelings. Even when the foreign girls showed up in my village, I did not assume to know whom they were. Even when I discovered accidentally that they were of the Kieran line, I did not bring this information to you. But when the carozit pointed to a relative in Morada, I had to come and search the archives for the Prophecies of Kieran. I would not be here today if I was not absolutely sure that those girls are your daughters. I pledge my life on it.”

  Queen Alycia stared at the old man as if she just recognized him for the first time.

  “You once said that everything in life is uncertain,” stated the queen. “I remember that day very well. It was the day that I banished you from Morada. I asked you to pledge your life that my husband still lived when Karaza returned and said that he found Avalar’s remains. You said that there was no certainty in life and that you could never make such a pledge.”

  “That is what I said,” agreed the old man. “I always felt that Avalar was alive, but there is always uncertainty.”

  “But you make the pledge today for the identity of my daughters?” asked the queen.

  “I do,” nodded Garl. “I can find no purchase for uncertainty in this matter. Alahara and Alastasia are alive and well.”

  “Or were a while ago,” frowned Malid.

  The queen’s head snapped to glare at the Head Elder. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded. “Speak.”

  “The girls escaped prison,” Malid said haltingly. “The army is out searching for them now.”

  Suddenly, the vine covered doors shook wildly. Malid and Volox looked at the doors and immediately moved to the furthest wall to be clear of any fighting. Garl rose and helped the queen to her feet. He led her to the throne and seated her.

  “What is going on?” asked Queen Alycia.

  “That will be the Great Deceiver,” frowned Garl. “Karaza has come to reclaim you as his prize.”

  “Prize?” questioned the queen as the door rattled violently.

  “He has been using you, Alycia,” sighed Garl. “He was always scrambling for more power. His control over you is his greatest accomplishment.”

  “Surely, you are just reliving old conflicts,” the queen shook her head. “Karaza is not a violent man.”

  “You are sadly mistaken, Alycia,” Garl said softly as the doors exploded in a shower of wood. “In a few moments, either I or Karaza will be dead. If it is me that dies, remember that I love you as a daughter. I always have.”

  Garl moved swiftly away from the queen. Karaza stormed into the room with a dozen mages in tow. His dark eyes glowed as he glared at Garl.

  “You have interfered one too many times,” spat Karaza.

  “Do you really need an army to support you?” goaded the old man as he nodded at the additional mages who had entered the room.

  “I will use what is available to me,” retorted Karaza. “You can use what is available to you.”

  “Stop this,” shouted the queen. “I will not have violence in this palace.”

  “He has brashly violated the law,” retorted Karaza. “Even
now he has probably filled your mind with nonsense. Death is the only punishment fit for him.”

  “I forbid it,” countered the queen. “Desist immediately.”

  “You have already authorized it,” snapped Karaza. “Do not forget your own words. You told me to do whatever I needed to do to silence him.”

  “I said that I forbid it,” the queen said adamantly. “Depart from my presence immediately. All of you get out!”

  The mages that had accompanied Karaza were obviously confused. Their brows knitted as they stared at the queen and then Karaza. Garl saw the confusion and pressed on it.

  “The Head of the Society of Mages should be the strongest in the land,” Garl said loudly. “Those who would help him defeat an old man would be guilty of a heinous crime unless it was sanctioned by the queen. Well it is not sanctioned. Obey your queen and depart.”

  The mages fidgeted. One of them backed quietly out the door. When it was noticed that he was missing, the other mages fled.

  “Now what is available to you is slightly less than what is available to me,” grinned Garl.

  Karaza glanced at the two elders. Garl saw his glance and shook his head.

  “I was not referring to them or anyone else,” Garl declared. “I was referring to the power within you. It always was inferior to mine.”

  Karaza’s hand shot up and sent a force bolt streaming at the old man. The shields surrounding Garl dissipated its force, but the power of it still shook the old man. Garl glanced up at the tree limbs above the throne room. He stared at them as Karaza unleashed another force bolt.

  Sweat began forming on Garl’s forehead. While his shields were holding, he had underestimated the power of his rival. Another blast rocked the old man, and Garl knew his time was limited. He concentrated on the Royal Tree and smiled as he saw it start to change.

  Karaza saw Garl’s smile. He threw another force bolt and then looked up to see what the old man was looking at. He screamed when he saw the tendrils coming towards him. He tried to move, but it was too late. Long, thick vines wrapped around Karaza’s arms. Others descended and began to wrap around the mage’s body. In mere moments, Karaza’s body was completely encased in vines. At Garl’s command, the vines retreated upward, carrying the body with it. When it was all over, one could see the outline of the mage’s body where it had become a permanent bulge in the bark of the tree.

  Queen Alycia swooned in her throne. Garl hurried over to her, his power exhausted. He knelt by the queen’s side and held her hand. The queen smiled down at the old man’s head.

  “He was doing something to me, wasn’t he?” asked Queen Alycia.

  “I suspect that he was, but I do not know what hold he had over you,” replied Garl. “How do you feel?”

  “Like a great weight has been lifted from me,” smiled the queen. “I no longer feel despair or hatred. How could this have happened?” she asked. “How could I have not known that I was changed?”

  “I believe that he struck in the moment of your greatest despair,” guessed Garl. “You certainly would have been vulnerable at that time. He was clever in taking things slowly. If you had changed too dramatically or suddenly, people would have suspected something. As it was, even I was fooled. Even when you banished me, I figured it was my fault. That is why I did not protest it. In a sense, he defeated both of us. No wonder he chose to openly confront me now. He must have thought me an old fool who would run and hide. That is what I did the last time.”

  “Well you will not run this time, Garl,” smiled the queen. “I need you by my side. I want your help in finding my daughters.”

  “They are gone,” frowned Garl.

  “What do you mean gone?” the queen asked with alarm. “No. I want to see them. Why would they leave?”

  “They have gone to bring Avalar home,” answered Garl as he held the queen’s hand between both of his.

  “They know where his remains are?” asked the queen. “I asked Karaza for the location when he found them, and he said he could not remember the name of the place.”

  “No, Alycia,” smiled Garl. “They have gone to bring your husband home, not his remains. Avalar is alive.”

  “How do you know?” the queen asked skeptically. “Are you placing all of your faith in the scroll?”

  “Do you remember the carozit that the girls held when they visited you?” asked Garl.

  “Yes,” nodded the queen. “They seemed quite fond of it.”

  “It is magical,” explained Garl. “When members of a family hold it together, it tells how far away the next relative is. At Etta, both girls held it and it showed that their relative was in Morada. That was you. When you touched it, the balls flew apart. Do you remember that?”

  “I do,” nodded the queen. “We were all so startled that we dropped it.”

  “The balls flew apart because Avalar is far away,” continued Garl.

  “But how can we be sure that it is really Avalar?” asked Queen Alycia.

  “MistyTrail actually met him when she was on the Island of Darkness,” answered Garl. “At that time she had no idea who the man was, but he said one word to her. That word was Avalar.”

  “Praise Kaltara,” cried the queen as tears ran down her cheeks. “I will send our armies to this Island of Darkness. I will not let my daughters risk so much. I want them with me here in Elvangar.”

  “No,” advised Garl. “Your daughters can succeed where armies would fail. You must put your trust in Kaltara. I am positive that he has been watching over the princesses for a long time now. The best thing any of us can do is to pray for their safe return.”

  Chapter 29

  King of the Dragons

  The eastern bank of the Meliban River was mostly forested while the western bank of the river began a great expanse of arid wasteland stretching to Lake Jabul, Vandegar, and beyond. At the great bulge of the north fork of the river, a lone tribesman sat quietly before a campfire. His campsite was in a wide clearing on the eastern shore near a ford used by most of the travelers in the area. A large sack of food rested by his side.

  Gorgi sat on a log carving a figure out of a block of wood. Occasionally he looked up to watch the distant plume of dust on the western horizon. As the plume grew larger, the Extala tribesman tried to calculate the number of riders that must be approaching. He extracted several spare knives from the smaller pack that he was wearing. Putting down his carving, Gorgi rose and tried to visualize the coming encounter.

  He walked back to where the line of trees at the edge of the clearing began. Selecting the place where he would flee into the forest, he shoved one of the knives into the far of a tree. Nodding thoughtfully, he measured off half the distance to the log he had been sitting on. He stooped down and dug a small trench in the soil. He buried a knife and moved a thin layer of soil over the top of it. He memorized the spot so that he would be able to quickly grab the knife if he had to flee in a hurry. Returning to the log, he placed the third knife behind the log and then walked around it and sat back down. He picked up his carving and continued to whittle.

  When next he looked towards the west, he whistled to himself. The dust plume had become a multitude of smaller plumes. Gorgi estimated between one and two dozen riders were heading for the ford. He swallowed hard as he realized his vulnerability. Most of the groups in the past week had been no more than a handful of riders at a time, although one group had consisted of ten riders.

  Gorgi rose and turned the spit over the fire, rotating the roasting clova. He took a stick and stirred the embers before returning to his log. He looked to the west again and was finally able to count the riders. He could count twenty riders. He could also recognize their colors, although he had been fairly sure they that they were Jiadin since he had seen the first dust plume. All of the riders over the past week had been Jiadin.

  Gorgi picked up his carving and continued his work as he waited for the riders to arrive. He did not have long to wait. The Jiadin came streaming across the ford holdin
g their swords high and shouting old war chants. Gorgi looked up as if he was barely interested in the new arrivals. The Jiadin encircled the Extala tribesmen. Only then did Gorgi put down his carving and stand up.

  “Welcome fellow Fakarans,” Gorgi said loudly. “I am Gorgi. Would you join me for a meal? I have more clova than I know what to do with.”

  “We are not Fakarans,” spat one of the riders. “We are Jiadin, and if we want your clova, it is ours for the taking. What are you going to do about it?”

  “I would prefer to invite you to join me in eating,” retorted Gorgi. “You gain little by fighting with me when I am offering you everything anyway. Besides, if we eat as friends, I can save your lives.”

  “What do you mean?” scowled another rider. “How can a tribesman save our lives? Are there others hiding in the trees?”

  “I am alone,” Gorgi shook his head. “What I meant is that I can share knowledge about the dangerous path you are on. The way ahead is not safe. Will you help me eat the clova?”

  “Any path is safe for the Jiadin,” boasted one of the riders. “We go where we want to.”

  “Be quiet, Jaker,” scowled the leader as he stared suspiciously at Gorgi.

  The leader’s eyes rose and scanned the forest for any signs of other tribesmen. He saw nothing to disturb him.

  “Dismount,” the leader said loudly. “We are going to accept Gorgi’s invitation. Stay alert.”

  The Jiadin dismounted and tied their horses to the trees. The leader approached Gorgi and extended his sword hand in promise of a truce. Gorgi readily grasped the leader’s hand.

  “I am Niger,” stated the leader. “Although we have never met, I have heard of you, Gorgi. You are known as an excellent tracker and swordsman. The Extala should be proud to have you.”

  “The Extala were always proud to have me among their fold,” smiled Gorgi, “but the tribes are not what they used to be. Today everyone is considered a Fakaran. There is no more rivalry.”

  “Tell that to the tens of thousands of Jiadin who still roam the wilds,” retorted Niger.