The Neuyokkasinian Arc of Empire Series: Books 1-3 Box Set High, Epic Fantasy on a Grand Dragon Scale! Kindle Edition

by C. Craig Coleman

  Unconcerned, Twit snatched a moth drawn to the fire, then joined the others in sleep.

  5: Botahar and the Pundar River

  King Ahkenspec of the Memtahhamin Elves

  After packing up in the morning chill, the group headed back east to the hills above Lake Pundar that separated the lake from the desert. They chose a different route in case someone followed.

  “We’re heading back toward the lake,” Saxthor said.

  “Know where you’re going, Saxthor?” Hendrel grinned. He pointed to a cactus where a grasshopper drank dew before sunrays evaporated it. Mist rose in ghostly wisps as the sun vaporized the condensation. Before the insect could finish its drink, a lizard, sunning on a rock beside it, snapped it up. “The desert is beautiful, but life here is brutal. We wouldn’t want to get lost out here.”

  “Well, we went west-northwest from the lake to get to the mesas. East-northeast should take us just north of the Pundar Hills to Botahar,” Saxthor replied in the lead. He studied a common travelers’ peninsula map. The adventurers traveled on until they could see the outline of hills off in the distance through the desert’s blue haze.

  Bodrin was the first to look up from watching around his feet. “There’re the hills.”

  “Are we going through or around them?” Hendrel asked.

  “First, we need to go look for a stream there,” Tournak said. “We don’t have enough water to make Botahar.”

  “To the hills, it is then,” Saxthor said, leading off.

  As the men passed along, low bushes started to appear, and then short, spindly shrubs replaced the dry sand and cacti. They reached the first hillocks in the late afternoon the next day and decided to camp for the night.

  “We’ll look for a stream tomorrow when we’ve rested and fresh,” Saxthor said.

  The lush, green landscape was rejuvenating after seeing only the desert’s earth tones for so long. Thick stands of fir trees overspread the hills soft middle reaches. Time eroded the jagged mountains’ old softer peaks. Near the tops were stark spots of balding rock protruding from the lower vegetation. Close to the desert floor, the rich green of conifers mingled with the autumn colors of deciduous scrubs. It made a nice transition from the desert floor to the deep-green hills.

  Before the others the rose next morning, Saxthor drew Sorblade from its sheath to observe the runes as he did now on a regular basis. There was the faintest glimmer.

  It must be predawn light reflection, he thought. The smallest smoky trace on the horizon barely caught his attention.

  Bodrin and Tournak rose shortly after sunrise and checked to see if anyone had started breakfast. Delia stayed close to Saxthor so as not to miss her food. Twit yawned on his branch as he scanned the area for a juicy meal and anything else moving.

  They packed and started up the closest hill through the thick scrub, looking for a stream.

  “These briars and thorny bushes get thicker and thicker,” Bodrin said. “Near the top, we’ll be crawling on hands and knees rooting out an opening.”

  Hendrel struggled to get his larger frame through the tight squeezes left by those before him. “Saxthor, I think we should go back. We lost the path. This is getting us nowhere.”

  “Looks like Delia’s found an animal path. We’ll follow that over the hilltop,” Saxthor said.

  On the other side, they looked down on a small but lush valley. Water from the hills cascaded down a small stream to the valley floor, collecting in a crystal-clear pond.

  “There’s no sign of a stream flowing out of the pool,” Bodrin said. “It would seem the water from the hills flows to the lake, then goes into some underground system. In any case, it’s a relief to find fresh, clean water.”

  They hiked down the hill’s backside across the valley to the water’s edge.

  “Something troubles me,” Saxthor said. “There’re no briars or thorny bushes of any kind on the hill’s backside we just came through. The closer we move toward the water, the more peaceful the area seems. The temperature is just right, the trees bear fruits and nuts, and even the birds and animals seem charmed. Flowers adorn bushes and hanging vines, yet it’s autumn. Here, just one line of hills removed from the desert is a clear stream complete with trout.”

  Tournak seemed alert, but not worried. The others reveled in the delicious experience, while the ever-suspicious Twit watched everywhere. Tournak took the water jugs to the stream as the others rushed straight for the pond to bathe and play. After the desert, a bath was a dream. Saxthor and Bodrin splashed each other, then Hendrel jumped in, and a water-fight erupted.

  Delia tested the water with her paw several times and whined for Saxthor. Eventually, all the fun in the lake was too much, and she dove in and swam out to her rescuer to chase whatever Saxthor and Bodrin were tossing back and forth. Even Twit had a quick splash and dried himself in the sun. Saxthor came out of the lake to dry off first. After a short rest in the sun, he went to relieve Tournak, standing guard.

  “What’s that over there?” Saxthor asked, coming up beside Tournak. He startled something watching his mentor.

  “I don’t see anything but a shaking bush,” Tournak said. “A startled bird maybe could be something more. Hendrel, you and Bodrin come out of the water.” Tournak grabbed his sword and poked the bushes. “There’s nothing here.”

  Hendrel and Bodrin checked, but they found nothing either. Puzzled, Delia stared at the bushes; head cocked sideways and whined.

  “You’re just a fussy old nursemaid,” Bodrin chided Tournak. He put his knife back in its sheath and went back to his laundry.

  “No, Bodrin, there was something there,” Saxthor said from back at the lake.

  Bodrin laid out his wet clothes to dry and joined the others again. They broke into two pairs. One went north along the pond, the other south. Still, they found no sign of anyone around the perimeter. Since it was late in the afternoon, they camped for the night by the waterfall. Delia and Twit were more alert that night. There were sounds and rustling in the bushes, but no one saw anything. Delia remained restless.

  “We should leave this valley, edging the hills until we reach Botahar,” Hendrel said the next morning.

  “Something’s still drawing me here,” Saxthor said. “For some reason, I feel I have to see more of this area.” After the discussions, Saxthor started up the second hillside, trailed by Bodrin.

  “We should leave and get back to your mission,” Hendrel said.

  “You’re wasting your effort trying to change their minds once those two have decided to do something,” Tournak said. Grinning, the wizards picked up their gear and followed the younger men.

  The west-facing hillside on the lake’s east side was even more beautiful. Fir trees blanketed the slope, carpeting the forest floor with their delicate needles.

  “We really should get back on course, Saxthor,” Tournak said.

  “Let’s go a bit further.”

  When they were about three-quarters the way up the slope, there was a ledge, hidden from below by the tree branches. They climbed up on the ledge turning back to look out over the valley, then over the far hills to the desert and horizon.

  “Sunsets from this vantage point must be incredible,” Bodrin said.

  Saxthor investigated the stone wall behind them. Hidden by a large rock was a cave opening. “Come here, look at this.”

  “What is it?” Hendrel asked, still more interested in the view.

  “It’s the entrance to a cave,” Saxthor said. “Who’ll go in with me?”

  “There may be a bear in there, Saxthor,” Tournak said. Saxthor shrugged his shoulders.

  Hendrel went to the opening. “Looks dangerous.”

  “They encourage each other to get into mischief. Together, they aren’t afraid of anything,” Tournak said. “Good luck to the bear.” He looked at puzzled Hendrel and laughed.

  Bodrin grinned and followed Saxthor. Delia now led. The entrance was a tall opening the size and shape of a doorway.
<
br />   “Feel the air blowing through here,” Saxthor looked bright-eyed at Bodrin. “It’s not a cave; it’s a tunnel.”

  “Let’s go back,” Hendrel said. “This sidetrack has delayed your mission.”

  “I’ll come with you,” the ever-accommodating Tournak said. He turned to Hendrel. “Better to go with them to satisfy their curiosity; they’ll argue all day.”

  The troupe entered the tunnel with swords drawn, Saxthor first, with Bodrin following. The light faded to darkness as they crept in further. Then Saxthor noted the fragrance of spring jasmine, a fragrance out of place and time.

  “Look at this, an unlit torch.” As Bodrin spoke, the torch flashed to light on its own, revealing an “S” curvature in the tunnel.

  “OK, that’s enough. Torches don’t light themselves,” Hendrel said.

  “Nothing has bothered us so far,” Saxthor said.

  “Memlatec will have my hide after cannibals eat you,” Hendrel grumbled.

  The adventurers continued through to the hill’s far side, where it opened onto another hidden valley. As they entered the new vale, Saxthor stepped back, bumping into Bodrin as the others came forward into the light.

  “We’re not alone.”

  “Welcome, Prince Saxthor and Lord Bodrin. Welcome to you all. We’ve been expecting you,” a tall, incredibly handsome man said. He wore shades of green and brown. Pointed ears framed the fine features of his face. Though he was outwardly calm, a faint jitteriness in his eyes raised Saxthor’s cautiousness.

  No one in the traveling party said a word. They stared at the speaker, and then the valley behind him. In a place well hidden from the world, a village appeared in front of them, built among the glen’s ancient tree branches. The people were all tall and unbelievably beautiful, and all had pointed ears. The reality dawned on Saxthor, and apparently his companions as well, as they looked to each other. These were elves; there really were still living elves.

  “Thank you,” Saxthor said. “It’s kind of you to welcome us to your community. These are our traveling companions, wizards Tournak and Hendrel.”

  “Are you elves?” Bodrin asked.

  “Yes, we’re elves,” his host said with a gentle smile. He glanced at the tunnel. His smile disappeared. “One moment, please.” He dashed off through the tunnel and reappeared a moment later, his eyes twitching.

  “Please join us.” The elf turned and descended the hillside with the trekkers close behind, enjoying the fragrance of countless blossoms. Delia pranced, tail wagging, between elf and Saxthor. She approved of these new people.

  When they reached the valley floor, other elves gathered around them. There were the greetings of hosts and guests, but the attention focused on Saxthor. He felt they knew something about him; he didn’t.

  “Please join us in our meeting hall,” the greeter said. “Our elders welcome our rare guests there. We shall feast you soon. The moon is just rising.”

  Built across the outstretched limbs of several mighty oaks, the hall was enormous to be in the trees. Lights began to speckle the forest everywhere.

  Elves brought food and drink of every description. There were haunches of venison, baked fishes on platters surrounded by steaming crayfish, apples, and squashes baked in deep pies. Still more dishes arrived, strange foods for such remote hills. As the troupe feasted and chatted with the elves, the greeter approached Saxthor, his hands repeatedly rubbing.

  “Our king wishes to welcome you in the audience hall, higher in the trees.”

  “No one could refuse such gracious people,” Saxthor said. “Excuse me, my friends. I’ll return soon.”

  *

  Saxthor bowed to his hosts and left with the elf, climbing the intricately carved stairs to the chamber highest in the ancient oak. His escort ushered him in and closed the door behind him.

  The room was huge. The richly polished paneled walls showed the detailed walnut grain. Above the chair rail moldings, delicate latticework overlaid a motif of fluid vines. Here and there, the vines grew out branching structures that supported orbs glowing with a silvery light. The carved vines spread out across the ceiling from the walls. More silver-lighted orbs hung from tendrils.

  Behind the vines, the background morphed from bright blue to dark with silver stars. A few beautifully carved chairs, interspersed with half-tables, lined the walls where their placement didn’t encourage sitting for long audiences. A plush carpet of intricate detail covered the center of the polished, parquet floor.

  Across the room, seated on a throne in front of Saxthor, was a tall, handsome elf crowned by long, blond hair. As Saxthor was surveying the elegant room, the elf had remained silent, perhaps studying him.

  “Welcome to our kingdom,” the regal elf said. “We are King Ahkenspec, ruler of this kingdom of forest elves.”

  “Thank you for receiving us, Your Majesty,” Saxthor said, before bowing deeply as remembered from the Neuyokkasinian court. He silently thanked Memlatec for his early training in royal protocol.

  “You must be wondering who we are and what we are doing here,” the king said.

  “Well, all this is quite a surprise coming out of a barren desert. I wasn’t aware there were elves still on Powteros or living in these hills.”

  The king inclined his head.

  “We were a powerful nation on this continent before the Wizard Wars. We had a mutually beneficial relationship with the forest that covered half the peninsular. Being forest elves, we tend the balance of nature here. After the wars, people began encroaching on the forests, chopping them down, and clearing them for fields. We retreated more and more. Most of our people decided to leave Powteros. Those of us who remain live in isolated pockets of enchanted forests away from humankind. We keep our forests hidden behind invisibility veils.” His eyes sparkled. “Please do not reveal our home to others. Tournak and Hendrel know better than to mention our presence. We ask that you and Lord Bodrin do the same.”

  “We will respect your wishes, of course, Your Majesty. How is it you know of our names and us? We’re but a few friends traveling around the continent.”

  If this king knows about us, others might also, thought Saxthor.

  The king smiled. “The great Wizard Memlatec sent your highness on a mission that will affect the outcome of all Powteros. While we don’t know the details of your journey, we know that your success or failure will substantially influence the outcome of the impending war with Dreaddrac. At Memlatec’s request, our cousins provided a boat for you when you began your journey. Recently, the wizard sent a message requesting we assist you in any way we can. Should you fail, we can do little to restrain the Dark Lord’s tide of destruction. You must not fail.”

  Saxthor was stunned. This declaration from the king increased the mission’s pressure and revealed more people dependent on the quest’s outcome.

  Why do you reveal yourselves to us?”

  “We have long lived here in peace. Recently, there has been a ripple in the energy force running through these hills. We have detected a wraith scouring the desert at night. Not since the Wizard Wars have we seen wraiths this far south. We think this one is seeking you, Prince Saxthor. We revealed ourselves to forewarn you of this threat.”

  “I thank you for the warning. We’ll heed it.”

  The greeter elf knocked and rushed in, not waiting for the king to bid him enter. His tense face revealed raw fear.

  “Majesty, the wraith no longer scours the desert. It is now moving in a direct line here.”

  Ahkenspec stood up. “We must destroy it now that the wraith knows where you are.”

  “Tournak is a wizard. He can destroy it with wizard fire.”

  “No,” The king said. “The energy surge from wizard fire might neutralize it, but the flash of energy would instantly alert its controller and draw them here to destroy us. We must stall it until dawn and kill it with sunlight.

  ”How do we stall a wraith?” Saxthor asked.

  “Saxthor, one of your band has s
omething unknown to him, something that is drawing the wraith to you. Search yourselves and your belongings and destroy the beacon, lest the wraith catch up to you here.”

  Saxthor stood shocked. “I thank Your Majesty for your kind hospitality and your assistance. We’ll search for the betraying item and be on our way before we draw the evil to you.”

  “Find the beacon at once,” Ahkenspec sat back on his throne.

  “I apologize for bringing this danger to your secluded retreat.” Saxthor bowed again and withdrew from the king’s presence as the greeter and king conferred. He descended the stairs in hast, deep in thought.

  What could we have that could betray our location to searchers?

  “Where’ve you been, Saxthor?” Bodrin asked back at the hall. “You’re missing all this rich food. Look at all these beautiful elfin damsels, too.” He lay back, and one dropped grapes in his mouth. “You’ve missed all the fun.”

  “Come, we must return to our quarters and search our belongings at once.” Saxthor turned to leave. The others looked to each other, rose, and followed.

  Reluctant to depart, Bodrin looked back, surveying each delicacy, the graceful elves dancing in the moonlight, the maidens, and the banquet laid out before them. He grabbed two plump, roasted bird legs in one hand, and two apples in the other as he turned to follow his companions.

  “We should’ve stayed a little longer, Saxthor. You’ve hardly eaten anything. The elves will think us rude.”

  “I expect you’ve eaten enough for both of us.”

  Grinning, Bodrin took a big bite of a bird's leg and finished both before they reached their quarters.

  They met in Saxthor’s room, where he looked at each companion. “We must never disclose the existence of this place or its inhabitants. Exposure would destroy what’s left of this precious elfin world.” Everyone nodded agreement. Saxthor looked at his companions, hoping his stern face would convey the seriousness of the situation.