by Brad Clark
He would bring Ilasha along with them as well. His heart warmed at the thought of his new love. He had never thought about falling in love, but certainly, once he laid eyes on her, his heart was stolen. For some time, it felt odd that she was once the lover of his good friend Sir Brace Hawkden. Although he had died over a year ago, he couldn’t help but think that it was still too soon. While they had been in love when they were young, Brace had chosen knighthood over marriage. The love had remained, but he knew that Ilasha was still hurt that Brace had not chosen her instead of his life as a Karmon Knight. He felt sad for Brace, as Ilasha was an exceptionally strong woman. Brace had chosen his path, though, in more ways than one.
He kept his horse at a brisk walk, even though he wanted to push her faster. He knew it would be dangerous to ride too fast without a saddle on a horse that he was not familiar with and more importantly, was not familiar with him. If he were to die of some silly accident, it could mean the end of Karmon. However, he knew his real reason to be safe wasn’t to protect the kingdom, but because he wanted to return to Ilasha. For that very reason, he knew Brace had made the right choice so many years ago. Karmon Knights could not fight with fearless ferociousness if they had wives and children to return to. They must be willing to give their lives at a moment’s notice and not let themselves be taken in by the pressure of family responsibility. He knew it should be the same now, but the world was a different place with different rules. There were no more Karmon Knights. Maybe they still existed in function, but there was no leadership to pass judgment or punishment for broken rules. He loved Ilasha, even though he had only known her for a short time. He also knew that he couldn’t let himself fall victim to being afraid to do what is right just because of his love for her. He couldn’t ask for anything more if he died doing what he was supposed to be doing.
Leaning forward, he tapped his heels against the horse’s flank, and it went from a walk to a fast jog. Fear could not drive him, even fear of failure. He needed to do what was right, regardless of the consequences. As he sped up, the cold wind bit deeper into his soul, even though he had several layers of clothes including a thick wool cloak. He knew he wasn’t far from the city and finding the horse would make his travels much quicker. If the city was abandoned, he was sure he would be able to find a saddle and a bridle somewhere. That would make his trip back to Neffenmark Castle much more comfortable.
The sun was still high above the western horizon, but it wouldn’t take very long for it to disappear. In the summer, it seemed as if the sun would hang above the horizon for hours before it finally dipped below. In the winter, once the sun closed in on the horizon, it didn’t take very long for darkness to come. He looked across the open meadows looking for a safe place to camp. If he were in the midst of the forest of Darkenwood, he would have plenty of places to camp and to safely make a fire. Out in the open, though, a fire could be seen for miles and attract all sorts of problems. Even a small grove of trees would provide him enough safety to light a warm fire.
In the distance, a thick outcropping of trees caught his attention. It was at the base of a small hill and would provide the perfect place for him to spend the night. Even though he had a couple thick blankets to keep him warm, without a fire, the blankets would not be enough. Once his eyes spotted it, he gave a sharp yank on the horse’s mane to direct her in that direction. He tapped his heels to her sides, and she lurched forward at a steady trot.
He slowed the horse as he neared the trees. They were mostly evergreen trees, which would give him the cover that he would need. He slid off the horse’s back and continued forward on foot. Without direction or command, the highly trained warhorse followed him.
As he began to think about how he might tie the mare up for the night, she let out a low snort, and her ears perked up. Hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His soldier instincts took over, and he drew his sword, backing away from the horse. If a fight started, he certainly didn’t want her to be close enough to get accidentally slashed.
He did not move. He cocked his head slightly to try and hear what the horse heard. It then occurred to him that the outcropping of trees was so inviting, anyone who wished a safe place to camp would choose this spot. Goblins would not need a safe place to camp, so he took a leap of faith and sheathed his sword. Even if they were Taran Centurians camped in the trees, they would not fight him. No longer the enemy, the soldiers of their western neighbor would certainly welcome his help, and he would welcome there’s.
“Hello!” He called out. “I am Sir Marik of Karmon. It is safe to come out.”
He waited for several heartbeats, but no one came out of the trees. He looked at the horse’s ears, and they continued to twitch as if she heard something. Someone or something was in those trees. Goblins or creatures of the Deceiver would have already attacked him. Whoever it was, he needed to let them know he was friendly.
“I do not smell a fire, so you must be cold,” Marik called out. “I have flint and steel to start a fire. We can share in its warmth. I have a little food if you need some.”
The horse had snorted a moment before movement in the trees caught his eye. He had not heard anything, but there was shifting within the shadows that he saw at the edge of his peripheral vision. It took all his discipline to not draw his sword. If they were civilian survivors, they would be afraid of a man with a sword. If they were Taran Centurions, him drawing his weapon might be construed as threatening.
“You are Karmon?”
The voice surprised Marik, and his hand twitched once again, but he did not draw his weapon. It came from a different location than the movement that had caught his eye. There were at least two of them, and very likely more. But not many more, or they probably would have shown themselves already.
“I am Sir Marik,” he called out again. “Who are you?”
A figure in a hooded cloak stepped from the trees. As the figure continued to walk forward, the hood was pushed back, and the first thing that Marik saw was tall, pointed ears.
“Glaerion?” Marik said loudly, with excitement in his voice. In the darkness, he could not see the face clearly, but the ears were obvious.
The Elf had started to speak, but at hearing Glaerion’s name, he closed his mouth and contemplated what he would say next.
“Is that you Glaerion?” Marik asked again.
“You know of Glaerion?” the Elf asked with a deep, powerful voice.
Marik walked closer so he could see better. He stopped about twenty feet away, a safe distance for both himself and the Elf. “You are not Glaerion,” Marik said.
“No, I am not. My name is Kaelak. Glaerion is a friend of mine, though.”
Excitement suddenly filled Marik’s soul, and he rushed forward. “You have come! You are the Elves that Glaerion brought to help us? Where are the rest of your kind?”
Five others stepped out from the trees. Three had bows with arrows nocked and ready to be fired. Kaelak lifted a hand, and the arrows were quickly returned to quivers. He was clearly more muscular than Glaerion, filling out his clothes much more than the lean-bodied Glaerion. Other than the ears, Marik realized there was nothing about Kaelak that reminded him of Conner’s Elven friend.
“Our army is camped a half-days journey towards the sea.”
“You are ready to fight?” Marik asked.
“We are. It is why we have come.”
Marik became more and more excited. With the Elven army, they would surely be able to defeat the Deceiver. “How many have come with you?”
“We number many hundred.”
“Hundred? How many hundreds? ”
“You expected more?”
“The Deceiver’s army is very large and very strong,” Marik replied, his heart beating hard now not from excitement, but from shock and surprise. “I think we were hoping for tens of thousands.”
Kaelak’s expression did not waver, although his voice changed slightly. There seemed to be the hint of disappointment in it as well. “Many of
us decided not to come. There are some that believe Humanity is not worth saving and that it would be best if they were cleaned off this earth. However, there are also many of us that believe the fate of the world should not rest on our anger and fears. King Illichian leads those who have come to help. I know there are not many, but there may be enough.” He paused to look over Marik carefully. “The Elven hatred of Humans goes back thousands of years. It took one moment, though, to change many of our minds. The Humans Conner and Elissa could not have made a better pair to represent your race. And when they got married with the Elven Ceremony of Marriage, it secured our alliance.”
“What?” Marik exclaimed. “They got married?”
“Indeed. It was a touching moment. Your Queen Elissa spoke passionately about the need for our people to band together and fight the enemy. Glaerion had already convinced me. If he can find friendship in Humans, anyone of us can.”
Marik shook his head in disbelief. “Married? They are really married? King Conner?”
“They were in love. Does it surprise you?”
“She was a princess. Royalty. He was…”
“He was not.”
“Right.”
“Elven culture does not see those who are and those who are not. We are all the same. It surprised no one. It should not surprise you, either.”
Marik took in a deep breath. It would take him some time to get used to Conner and Elissa as husband and wife, especially if Conner was to be king. He was not sure how the laws of Karmon worked when a queen married a commoner. It was likely no one knew, as it had probably never happened before. For now, though, it did not matter, for unless the war was won, there would be no Karmon to rule.
After a moment of reflection, Marik said, “No, it should not surprise me. They were indeed in love. Where are they? Much has happened that they should know about.” The thought of seeing his friends overpowered whatever disappointment he felt, and his tone perked up. “You must take me there right away! I am anxious to see the newlyweds!”
Kaelak turned to the west, towards where his people were camped. “Your queen is with our King Illichian and the rest of our army, but her husband, Conner, he is not. We got separated from his ship in a storm a few days before we arrived. It is likely they simply got blown farther to the west and will arrive in short order. Do not fear, as Glaerion and twelve of the best Elven warriors are with him as well. Their swords will not likely make or break the outcome of the war.”
Marik raised an eyebrow. “I have seen Conner fight, and I think you are wrong. One man such as him can make a difference. I am anxious to see my queen. I have news for her that will have an impact on our fight against the Deceiver. You must take me to your camp right away.”
Kaelak looked at his companions and said some words to them in their native language. They disappeared into the trees. To Marik, he said, “Fetch your horse, and we’ll get going right away.”
***
Marik saw the ships before he saw the camp. Thirty Elven ships were moored in the Gulf of Taran, just a short distance from shore. Illuminated by the soft white light of the moon, they floated peacefully in calm waters, single masts pointing up into the air. In his dreams, he had seen a sea full of ships and thousands upon thousands of Elves coming to their rescue. He tried not to be disappointed at what he saw, for he knew he should be content with those that choose to help them.
The camp had been set up a short distance inland. Tents had been erected in neat, precise rows. In the center of the camp was a large tent, tall enough for even the tallest Elf to stand up straight. He knew that’s where the Elven king would be and he hoped Queen Elissa would be there as well.
Kaelak slowed to a walk as they neared the camp’s perimeter. They had been running for several hours at a fast pace, but none of the Elves seemed winded. Marik was glad he had come across the horse as there was no way that he would have been able to keep up with the Elves on foot.
“There are sentries,” Kaelak said. “As long as you are with me, you will not be harmed. Do not do anything rash, for our warriors will be on edge.”
Marik looked around. “I don’t see anyone. Well, there are some down at the tents around their fires.”
“They are closer than you think, and their bows are trained on you. If you saw them, then it would be too late.”
Kaelak turned to one of his Elf companions and spoke to him briefly. After a quick nod, the Elf ran off towards the camp.
“I have sent Filak on ahead to wake the king. He will want to speak to you right away.”
Marik stifled a yawn. “We could wait until morning.”
Kaelak gave a slight shake of his head. “There will be plenty of time to sleep when the war is over. The king will have been awakened and will be waiting for us when we arrive.”
“Lead on, then.”
Kaelak and Marik strode purposefully towards the camp with the rest of Kaelak’s Elven companions in tow. The camp started to come alive at the sight of another Human walking among them. By the time they reached the central command tent, they had a following of curious onlookers.
Two Elven guards stood outside the tent. As Kaelak and Marik approached, they pulled open the tent flaps to let them inside.
A fire was raging in a central pit that kept the tent warm. Most of the smoke went straight up and out a hole in the tent’s ceiling. A haze of smoke remained inside the tent and hung just above their heads. It was a small price to pay for warm living quarters. A group of Elves were standing around the fire chatting but turned as Marik stepped into the tent.
A high-pitched squeal put a smile on Marik’s face. He had noticed her blonde, curly locks before he saw the rest of her. Elissa pushed her way through the crowd of Elves and ran towards him. Unsure what to do with the queen of his kingdom running at him, he just let himself be taken into a big hug. When it lasted more than a heartbeat, he put his arms around her and returned her embrace.
After an uncomfortably long time for Marik, she stepped back. Her eyes were filled with tears, but they sparkled with joy. “It is so good to see you! I thought for sure you would be dead!”
“No, we are alive. Many of us are still alive.”
“Many?” she asked with hope in her voice.
A long sigh came out of him. “Well, many might be overstating.”
The group of Elves moved towards him. One of them asked, “How many?”
Marik looked at the speaker. He was tall. Much taller than him, but not quite as tall as some of the other Elves. He stood with a stern and powerful look just like King Thorndale, the deceased former king of Karmon.
“You must be King Illichian.”
The king smiled. “And you must be Sir Marik. Queen Elissa has spoken quite a bit about you.”
“Yes, I am Sir Marik.” He couldn’t take his eyes off Elissa. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and joy, despite their predicament. He envied her youthful naivety. Over the past few months, he had seen too much death and destruction to share in her joy. Yet, seeing her as he did, he saw something that he hadn’t seen in a long time. Hope. Their leaving to find the Elves had been a desperate act, but they had returned with an army. It wasn’t a large army, but it was an army none the less.
“How many survivors?” King Illichian asked. “How many fighters?”
Kaelak stepped forward. “King Illichian, if I may interrupt. We have been riding all night. Some food for Marik might be in order.”
“Of course! How could I be so rude?”
“No,” Marik insisted. “I am fine.”
Despite Marik’s protests, King Illichian called out to have a plate of food prepared.
Elissa put a hand on his arm, and her eyes changed, showing fear. “How many survivors?” she asked.
“We never did a full count, but Neffenmark Castle is full. There are a few thousand, though. I would hope that many made it farther to the south or east. I don’t think the goblin horde went south of Darkenwood as they chased us north from Tyre. So, i
f any survivors fled in those directions, they should be safe.”
“A few thousand?” Elissa repeated.
Marik nodded. “At most. Of those, many more women and children than men. Too many died trying to defend our cities.” A small table was set next to them. Marik quickly shoved some cheese and bread in his mouth. The moment he started to chew, he realized how hungry he really was.
“The survivors, they are at Neffenmark Castle?”
“We have some Thellian soldiers, too. They had taken it over, but Sir Gossmire and a handful of knights were able to capture it. Fortunately for us, the Thellians were not in any mood to put up a fight. That and Hargon using his magic saved all of us.”
Silence suddenly filled the room.
“Magic?” King Illichian asked.
Marik glanced around. Everyone was staring at him. “Fireballs and lightning. Killed hundreds of them at a time.”
“Who is this Hargon?”
“He was once an emperor of Taran. Now, he is fighting with us.”
“A Human who uses magic? I have not sensed his power since we arrived here.”
“Once he wiped out the goblins, we have not been attacked. He’s been spending his time reading a book while we built up our defenses. We thought they would attack us again, but it seems that their army has moved on and out of the kingdom.”
“A Human with such powers is dangerous,” King Illichian said.
“It is unnatural,” Kaelak added.
“Even so,” Marik said. “Once he got the necklace, he was able to single-handedly defeat the goblin army.”
Gasps erupted from the room of Elves, and the king’s face went white.
Elissa moved closed to Marik and said, “The Ark of Life is really two pieces. The black gem that the Deceiver has and the necklace. Each on their own is powerful, but together, they are probably invincible.”