by F. P. Spirit
Elladan and Lamorn, surrounded by their silent companions, continued their colorful march a short distance further, until the canopy of trees opened, signifying a break in the forest. At that point, Elladan raised his hand, signaling a halt. Unlike the glade surrounding the monolith, this meadow was not clear, with trees and brush strewn across their path.
Elladan bobbed and weaved his head around, trying to get a better view of what lay ahead through the tangled mass of vegetation. Something gleamed white in the late morning sun, just above the brambles in front of them. Elladan squinted his eyes for a better look—it appeared to be the top of a large white canopy. Elladan laughed silently to himself. This princess obviously didn’t do things halfway.
“What’s so funny?” Lamorn asked.
The bard shifted his gaze to the young squire, the lad staring at him curiously. Elladan waved Lamorn over next to him, and pointed toward the top of the white canopy. “It looks like they’ve got a fancy little welcome set up for us already.”
Lamorn sidled up next to him, and followed his gaze, the lad visibly relaxing at the sight. “That looks like a friendly sign.”
Elladan pursed his lips together. “Maybe… then again, looks can be deceiving.”
The bard had dealt with diplomats before, and he wasn’t about to let his guard down just yet. The squire gazed at him questioningly, but before Elladan could respond, he felt a sudden presence at his side. Elladan nearly jumped out of his skin. He swiftly spun around, but there was no one there.
A soft whisper reached his ears. “Wait for a bit while Martan and I go ahead.”
Elladan responded with the barest of nods, acting as if he had never heard Donnie’s voice. Instead, he turned to Lamorn and gave the lad a quick wink. “Either way, let’s stop here a few moments, and make sure we’re presentable. After all, this is a princess.”
Lamorn broke out into a genuine smile as the two of them straightened their attire.
Donnie moved on silent feet as he stole around the thick mass of brush ahead. The slight elf cast a quick glance toward the woods, but there was no sign of Martan. The rustle of a leaf or two was the only indication of the tracker’s passage through the nearby trees. Donnie skirted the edge of the brambles, the thick mass ending just a few dozen yards beyond. The path abruptly opened into a wide, sunny meadow. Donnie halted in his tracks, astonished by what stood before him.
In the very center of the clearing sat a large white canopy, underneath which stood a long table covered in a cloth of pure white silk. Heavy chairs of gleaming mahogany surrounded the table, upholstered similarly to the silk tablecloth. The table itself was decorated with candelabras, several fancy place settings, and a wide variety of food.
Each plate was accompanied by an ornate silver goblet. A few crystal decanters were scattered between the settings, glittering vividly in the bright sunlight. Beneath the fancy table and chairs lay a fine woven carpet, with intricate red and black designs, creating a strange oval island of luxury in an otherwise rough and unfinished setting. It was an incongruous sight that made Donnie raise an eyebrow.
Yet that was not the most striking sight in the otherwise plain meadow. Donnie’s gaze was drawn to three shapely figures at the far end of the table. The woman in the center of the trio was a statuesque figure with alabaster skin, and long, flaxen blonde hair that draped over her creamy white shoulders, reaching down nearly to her waist. Yet it was her outfit that immediately drew Donnie’s attention. It was rather revealing, composed of a short black bodice, separate black sleeves that ran from above the elbow down to the wrist, and a long black skirt, slit all the way up the front, revealing a good portion of her shapely legs.
The entire ensemble was trimmed in gold, including an ornate choker and a V-shaped belt that was tightly fitted to her slim waist. White ruffles hung from end of her sleeves, the center of her bodice, the ornate belt, and peaked around the edges of her skirt.
Donnie stood there, his mouth agape for a few moments, till he finally caught himself. Reddening with embarrassment, he thanked the gods that he was invisible at that moment. The chagrinned elf returned his gaze to the woman’s face and noted the thin tiara atop her light blonde head of hair. This was quite obviously the Princess Anya of Lanfor.
At the left and just behind the Princess stood a figure with long, wavy, light brown hair, adorned in formfitting white robes, laced with gold symbols and trim. A golden belt hung at her waist, the hilt of a long sword protruding from the scabbard attached to it. Donnie narrowed his eyes—he had seen those golden symbols before. It struck him just moments later—that was the mark of the goddess, Lenara, the Lady of Battle.
This woman was none other than a battle priestess. Donnie arched an eyebrow. Such an adversary could be deadly, wielding the blade as effectively as divine magic. Donnie’s eyes lingered on the priestess a moment or two longer, noting how eagerly she fingered the sword hilt at her waist. I’ll have to keep an eye on that one.
The slim elf then shifted his gaze to the woman at the Princess’ right. A sultry figure with bronzed skin and a wild mane of curly red hair dangling down her shoulders lounged casually in one of the ornate mahogany chairs. The woman was garbed exclusively in scarlet, a tight-laced leather bodice over a long-sleeved dress with a full skirt. She wore no visible weapons, but spoke softly with the Princess, the two of them breaking out into a grin as if sharing some private joke.
At first Donnie thought her a lady in waiting, but there was something odd about the way she sprawled across that chair, like some great jungle cat waiting for her prey.
Donnie was still trying to figure her out when a movement behind the Princess caught his eye. At the other end of the meadow, a solitary figure leaned against a tree, a long bow held casually in its hand. Donnie squinted and saw that the figure was a slim woman with straight, shoulder-length chestnut hair, wearing the brown and green leathers of a forest tracker.
Not far from the archer, another figure stalked the meadow like some caged animal anxious for a fight. The figure was quite obviously female, her trim physique accentuated by a sleek black leather outfit. His interest piqued, Donnie silently circled around the canopied table for a better view. This woman was most definitely a warrior, her outfit adorned with an intricately tooled black leather epaulet, corset, bracers, and belt, all decorated with silver buckles and studs that glistened in the bright morning sun. Hanging from that belt on either side were two long scabbards, each capped with an ornate silver hilt. The warrior’s long golden-blonde hair was braided into a single ponytail that reached down between her shoulder blades.
The slim elf stole softly closer, his eyes riveted to the intricate silver designs on her outfit. His eyes went suddenly wide. Those are mithril!
Donnie had never seen such intricate craftwork before. It put even the elves to shame. His musings were interrupted by a regal voice. “Make sure the wine is properly chilled.”
Donnie shifted his attention back to the table in the center of the meadow. The Princess had spoken her directive to no one in particular, but as Donnie watched, the decanter of wine in front of her suddenly frosted over. A moment later, the crystal decanter lifted into the air of its own accord, and poured its contents into a silver goblet in front of the Princess.
Donnie narrowed his eyes—none of the three women at the table had lifted a finger, let alone cast a spell. That could only mean one thing—there was another party present in that glade, an invisible person with the ability to cast spells. A wizard most likely.
Donnie wanted to seek out this mystery figure, but time had run out. The Princess peered up and past him, her eyes coming alight with keen interest. Donnie spun around and saw that Elladan had entered the meadow with the young squire, Lamorn, by his side.
Elladan marched purposely past the thick mass of brush and into the wide meadow with Lamorn at his side. His gaze immediately fell
on the lavish spread laid out before them—it was a Heroes’ Feast. Elladan was quite familiar with the spell. The Duke of Dunwynn had used it to salvage the Lady Andrella’s birthday party.
His eyes swept across the table, falling on the figures at the far end. They were three lovely women, the one in the center possibly one of the most beautiful he had ever seen. Her appearance rivaled that of Shalla, the attractive bardess Elladan had left back in Ravenford. Yet in contrast to Shalla, this woman was fair, with hair so blonde that it bordered on white, a complexion like porcelain, and striking eyes the color of burnt gold. She also dressed far more provocatively than the lady bard. Garbed in fine black and gold, her elegant outfit bespoke of nobility, at the same time exposing as much skin as possible.
Still, Elladan was not thrown by her beauty. He had met many attractive women in his time—it kind of came with the territory in his line of work. He quickly assessed the young lady, noting the tiara atop her brow, and the regal way in which she carried herself. This was most definitely the Princess Anya of Lanfor.
Elladan flashed the Princess one of his best smiles as her amber eyes turned toward him. He nudged Lamorn and shifted his approach toward her, noting the way she blatantly stared him up and down. Elladan immediately revised his assessment of this young lady. She was quite obviously used to getting what she wanted. I’ll have to be careful with this one.
As he approached the Princess, her two attendants casually, yet protectively flanked her. Elladan smiled to himself. Not exactly a trusting lot, are they?
He halted a few feet from the Princess, then executed a deep bow. “Elladan Narmolanya, of the House of Narmolanya, at your service, your majesty.”
The Princess continued to look him up and down, her voice breathy and her cheeks somewhat flushed. “My my, Elladan, we are very pleased to meet you. I hope that I can count you among my friends.”
She had placed particular emphasis on that last word. Elladan maintained his composure, smoothly replying, “I was hoping the same thing, your majesty.”
The young princess motioned for her two attendants to step aside, then strode over to Elladan, her slit dress exposing far more of her fair legs than would be considered appropriate in an elven court. Elladan cast a quick glance at Lamorn, and noted the squire’s face had turned a bright shade of scarlet. Attempting to spare the lad any further embarrassment, Elladan spoke softly to him. “Wait here, lad.”
Lamorn responded with a slow nod, the young squire unable to tear his eyes away from the visage of the sultry Princess. Elladan stepped forward and met the young princess halfway.
Princess Anya extended a porcelain arm, her eyes dancing playfully as she stared at him. “Attend me?”
“Certainly, your majesty.” Elladan grasped her slim hand in his, noting how cool her fingers felt to the touch. He silently hoped that signified a warm heart, though that remained to be seen.
The Princess spun around and led him back to the table, her tone regal, yet with playful undertones. “Please join us for lunch. After all, we wouldn’t want this feast to go to waste, would we?”
Elladan responded politely, while noting how closely her one attendant, the red-head dressed in scarlet, stuck to her side. “That would be a shame, your majesty.”
She stopped and stared at him, a sensual smile gracing her lips. “Anya. Please call me Anya.”
Elladan smiled back. “Anya, then.”
Anya let go of his hand and leisurely sat down at the head of the table, her eyes firmly fixed on Elladan’s as she slowly crossed one long leg over the other. The Princess’ eyes continued to dance as she motioned an arm toward the chair at her right. “Please sit down.”
“Thank you… Anya,” Elladan responded as he smoothly slid into the proffered seat. As expected, it was quite comfortable, despite its high back and ornate design.
Anya reached over and pulled a grape from a nearby bowl, delicately chewing on it as she regarded her guest. “Tell me, Elladan, how did you manage to take control of the monolith?”
Elladan knew he had to be careful here. He could not risk telling this young, pampered noble too much about his friends and their mission. The elven bard reached for a grape as well, buying himself a few moments to carefully word his reply. “That is quite a tale, milady—one I’ve yet to put into song, but it is filled with cunning and bravery.”
Anya eyed him carefully, her expression taking on a shrewd cast. “Oh, of that I am sure… but weren’t there safeguards and traps and such?”
Elladan sat back and fixed the Princess with a half-smile. “There were a few… but nothing that we couldn’t handle.”
Anya raised a blonde eyebrow as she lounged leisurely in her chair. “We? Is it a large group that you are traveling with?”
Elladan kept his tone casual as he reached for another grape. “Not really… but enough to get the job done.”
Anya narrowed her eyes, her slim arms folding across her chest as she assessed the weight of his words. “Obviously, if you were able to secure the Golem Master’s monolith.”
Ah, so she does know about Larketh. Somehow, the discovery of the Golem Master’s stronghold had reached all the way to Lanfor.
Elladan maintained a neutral expression as Anya continued to eye him shrewdly. The Princess unfolded her arms and placed a hand on the table, gently rapping it with her fingertips. “That is no trivial feat for a small group of travelers… tell me about them.”
Elladan shrugged, that same half-smile twisting his mouth as he continued to verbally fence with the Princess. “Oh, there’s not all that much to tell. A few warriors, some magic users, a couple of folks that are handy with a lock pick… your typical crew for a job like this.”
Anya’s amber eyes bore into him, as she remained silent for a few moments. Finally, she responded with a slow nod. “Typical, and yet not so typical… I think it would take more than the ‘usual’ crew to break into one of the Golem Master’s strongholds.”
Elladan cast a brief glance at the red-haired woman who stood just behind the Princess. Her dark eyes were fixed on him, a brooding malevolence behind them that sent a cold shiver up his spine. Elladan quickly shrugged it off, and responded warmly to the Princess. “Thank you, Anya, but I can assure you that we are just a simple band of travelers.”
“Hmm,” Anya murmured, as she reached for another grape. This one she brought up to her lips and sucked on for a few moments before popping it into her mouth.
Elladan suddenly felt very warm. He nodded toward the crystal decanter that sat on the table between them. “May I?”
Anya, an amused smile on her lips, responded with a brief nod. “Be my guest.”
Elladan poured the clear liquid into the silver goblet in front of him and took a brief sip. It was ice cold. He placed it down on the table, and returned his attention to the Princess. “Thank you, Anya.”
Anya sat there watching him with clear amusement. “My pleasure.”
The Princess eyed him for a moment longer, then moved forward in her seat. She leaned over the table toward him, exposing more of her bosom than most folks would have been comfortable with. “So, tell me, Elladan… have you found the Colossus?”
To his credit, Elladan kept his eyes firmly fixed on Anya’s, not flinching at the mention of the Colossus. Yet how could she possibly know of the existence of the huge stone golem? Not even Telvar, the mage the Serpent Cult had tortured to obtain the location of the monolith, had mentioned the colossal construct. All this flashed through Elladan’s mind in a moment. He responded to Anya without missing a beat. “Of course we did, Anya.”
The Princess reached out and placed her hand on top of Elladan’s, gently caressing it as she spoke. “Would you be a doll then, and do me a tiny little favor?”
Elladan kept his eyes focused on Anya’s. “If it is in my power.”
Anya flipped Elladan’s hand over and held it there, while drawing circles in his palm with her finger. She was doing her darnedest to rattle him, but Elladan was no novice when it came to flirtation. The elven bard took a deep breath and continued to smile at the Princess.
Her voice took on a sickly-sweet tone as she continued to draw on his palm. “Would you destroy it for me?”
Elladan’s eyes widened momentarily at her request. He had to admit, it was not what he had expected. Elladan had thought it more likely that she would want the Colossus for herself. He pulled his hand away from hers and gazed at her curiously. “Destroy it? Why would you want to do that?”
The Princess sat back in her chair, and waved a nonchalant hand at him, her tone sounding almost bored. “Because it’s dangerous… and… my advisors have warned me that it must be demolished.”
Her voice grew sweet again, a sparkle returning to her eyes. “Now won’t you do this little thing for me? I’ll make it worth your while.”
Elladan sat back in his chair, his mind racing. Her advisors warned her? There is no way they could have known about the Colossus. The creature had an antimagic field around it that hid it even from magical eyes. It suddenly dawned on him, Elistra was right! There was a tie between the Princess and the green dragon—it had to be the Dragon Master. Only another Thrall Master could have known of the existence of the Colossus. Thankfully, the Dragon Master himself had not returned, instead sending Anya to do his dirty work.
Elladan gazed at the Princess with a mournful smile. “I’m sorry, Anya, but even if we could, I’m not sure how to destroy something that large.”
Anya let out a short sigh, the young lady nonchalantly twirling a lock of her long blonde hair. “Ah well, that’s too bad.”
A blonde eyebrow suddenly arched across her forehead. Anya sat up and gazed at him curiously. “Tell me, Elladan, are you and your companions good friends?”