Valam put the long blade into the training master’s hand, saying, “Then you shall be the walking dead but I will know your name and that blade shall not be stained with your blood. It is my wish.”
“Redwalker Tae,” whispered the training master, “Redcliff to those who knew me.”
“If a dead man, my personal ghost on the training field, the executor of my will. Train these men. Train them to be loyal and true. Train them to be soldier’s soldiers, to defend the House of Alder against our enemies, to die in service if need be.”
Redcliff raised his blade high and said, “To the High Prince!” Others on the field repeated his action, raising their weapons in salute. Redcliff and the men repeated the salute over and over as Valam, Timmer, and Seth walked away.
Valam grabbed Seth’s shoulder as he walked and while the fingers of his right hand squeezed their way toward bone, he pointed to those about him with his left hand, those whose eyes regarded their prince and honored his deed. “Have you thought about what I said earlier?”
Seth nodded, admitted that he had.
The two left the training field, followed closely by Swordmaster Timmer who seemed to still be coming to terms with what he had just seen. The men on the field quietly chanted Valam’s name as if his name alone now gave them strength and focus.
Seth knew in that moment when he turned to look back at the chanting soldiers that something miraculous had happened, and not because he had snatched an arrow from the air that might have ended the prince’s life. But because the prince had shown compassion, mercy, and proven himself a man of honor. The so-called King’s Knights, and not just Redwalker Tae, had just become the prince’s men. They would do whatever the prince asked of them to the end of their days.
Chapter Six:
Guiding Fools
“Out with it!” hissed a feminine voice in a low, unsettling tone.
“Tomorrow, they leave tomorrow.”
Adrina stifled a gasp and pressed up against the wall.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what? Never mind… Where are you going? Stand fast you fool!”
Adrina held her breath. Her heart raced. She watched the reflection offered by the torches that sparsely lined the near wall. The outline of the figure approached. A long glittering blade was drawn. Just when she was about to run, the figure turned and retreated.
“Are you sure?” hissed the feminine voice.
“Yes, I am sure. The plans are being finalized as we speak.”
“Good, good. Will the prince be with them?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Don’t think, you fool!”
“Did you hear that?” asked the other in a whisper, “Footsteps, someone approaches.”
“Go, go!” the woman shouted.
Adrina ran from the rapidly approaching shadow. She was so shaken by the voices that she didn’t stop running until she came to the council chambers where she knew her father and the others would be gathered. She nearly knocked down the outer guards as she bounded through the door.
King Andrew continued mid-sentence without even a pause to show his surprise at Adrina’s hurried entrance, the skill of a practiced orator. “Brother Seth, about these mental powers that Prince Valam spoke of. All of the Brotherhood can read each others thoughts, intentions?”
“It is much as you have said, King Andrew. Only a few cannot.”
“Can this really be learned as you suggest?” Father Jacob asked, earnestly intrigued.
Adrina sank into an empty chair beneath the towering glare of her father’s stern eye.
“I think it can be learned, Father Jacob. More importantly, I think, we will need to mask open thoughts. What I discovered with Valam was quite by accident because his mind was so open. His thoughts radiated to my mind, more specifically his intentions. At first I think we should concentrate on masking open thought. It is like cluttering one’s thoughts. You put your thoughts in disarray. Timmer’s men seem to be adapting quickly. They are an intelligent group.”
I can’t continue, directed Seth to Valam.
“Won’t the enemy discover this ploy, then force us to open our minds?” Valam asked despite Seth’s statement.
“I don’t think it will ever occur to them. It is so natural a talent. To force one’s mind open takes very great concentration, so I don’t believe they would bother trying. It is also a skill used mostly by the Brotherhood. I am afraid even my peoples’ mind blocks would fall to the members of the Brotherhood.”
Valam, you must speed this up, directed Seth.
“I believe you are right, Brother Seth.” Valam feigned a smile while thinking, It is the belief and not the deed that will give confidence on the field.
A long pause followed. The council session had been underway since early morning and it was now late afternoon. Valam cast his eyes out to the mostly empty pews, then to the few clustered around the central table. Let the whisperers feed on that, he thought to himself.
“Father—” began Adrina, stopping under stern scrutiny.
“All our plans are set in motion. I move to adjourn,” said Chancellor Yi after a doleful nod from the king.
Valam stood. “King Andrew, father, I have decided. I want to lead the first group. My skills will be greatly needed. It will improve the morale of the men to see their prince fighting beside them. I will also need to return immediately to South Province with Seth. I think together we can put speed to the—”
“Save your words, I know you too well, my son. I was afraid you would ask yet I knew eventually you would. Great Kingdom shall be empty without you, but you do have my blessing.”
The king stopped and turned to the chancellor. “Is the team ready?” he asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty, it is set for tomorrow as you requested.”
“Already?” Valam asked with what could have been surprise in his voice.
“You are my son. I knew you would ask. The time for action is at hand. Chancellor Van’te has sent me word that Isador eagerly awaits your return.”
Valam swallowed a lump in his throat. The king smiled and turned his gaze to the others in the room.
Gripping his ancient staff Keeper Martin stood. “King Andrew, as head of the Council of Keepers I would also like to make this journey. I have selected a few others of the council who will go with me and will appoint Keeper Q’yer as Chief Lore Keeper in my absence. He is a good and able-bodied soul who will serve well.”
King Andrew spoke for the benefit of those watching. “Agreed, Keeper Martin. It is a worthy notion. There will be much information to gather. So much lore that has not been passed down.”
The king maintained his ardent gaze about the chamber. Soon afterward, Father Jacob took the floor, saying, “King Andrew, Chancellor Yi and I would also undertake the journey.”
King Andrew’s scowl grew long. “Father Jacob, will I lose all my trusted council this day?”
“I am sorry, Your Majesty,” Father Jacob said. “It is a thing we must do.”
“Yes of course, Father Jacob. Two of our most cunning minds are needed. I have great faith in all of you who are gathered in this room today, for if I did not you would not be here while we make this most conscious decision. Tomorrow will be a sad day, a sad day indeed, though perhaps a well intentioned start. I only wish that I were fit enough to make the sojourn southward. I long to have the wind in my hair and a saddle beneath me. Alas, it can not be so—”
“King Andrew, father,” interrupted Adrina.
“You have my blessing as you go forth. The palace will hang in silence without you.”
A wave of the king’s hand brought the chancellor to a hurried dismissal.
“I move to close the meeting,” the chancellor said.
“Father?” pleaded Adrina.
The timing of the chamber door bursting open couldn’t have been better. A royal page entered and while mumbling apologies, raced to the monarch.
“What is the meaning of th
is interruption?” demanded Yi, “Interruptions, interruptions, be damned! I would hope you have an excellent reason!”
Captain Brodst stepped into the room and made a gesture to King Andrew. The king motioned the page to proceed. The page eyed the chancellor closely and started toward the king once more. The page leaned close to Andrew’s ear and whispered words which were meant for him alone to hear.
“What? When?” Andrew said, shock in his voice. The page continued in a low tone so that only the king heard his words. King Andrew looked to Captain Brodst. “Is this true, captain?”
“I am afraid so, sire.”
“Poor Father Tenuus. He was a good and faithful servant.”
“Yes, he was, sire.”
“The council is adjourned,” King Andrew commanded as he hastily departed.
“Father Jacob? Chancellor Yi?” King Andrew called back as he entered the outer hall.
Father Jacob and Chancellor Yi rushed out of the room ahead of the others. Captain Brodst hesitantly approached the prince.
“I think you should go with him, Prince Valam,” said Captain Brodst.
Valam seemed lost in his thoughts. “What has happened?”
“Father Tenuus has passed. He was found just a short time ago. It appears he has been dead for some time.”
“Natural causes?”
“Nothing sinister, it would appear. Old age I would assume.”
Seth probed the minds of the council. An ashen-faced Adrina rushed from the chamber. Seth knew she hadn’t particularly cared for Father Tenuus and it was why she felt extraordinarily poor concerning his demise. She had wished a similar fate on him many times and most often during evening repast. A guilty conscious urged her to chase after her father.
“Captain, may I have a word as we walk?”
“Certainly, Prince Valam, anything you request.”
“Dispense with the pleasantries…”
Captain Brodst started, looked around. He saw those milling about in the hall and understood.
“Settle down. What I meant to say was,” began Valam, as he gestured for Seth to follow. “What I meant to say was that you needn’t be so proper. I don’t care for it. There is a time and a place for such formalities. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your… Ah, yes, I do.”
“No, do you understand?”
“Yes, yes, I do.”
“Good.” Prince Valam slapped Captain Brodst on the back to relax him. “Settle down, this is not an inquisition by any means—at least not yet.”
Valam whispered to Seth, “Well?”
All seems to have gone well. I didn’t sense anything out of the ordinary and Father Tenuus’s passing was truly a surprise to everyone.
Occasionally, as the wagon hit potholes along the path Vilmos would be thrown up into the top of the box, allowing air in, which often gave temporary consciousness. He was too weak to struggle with the box cover anymore though. It seemed that he spun in and out of consciousness and unconsciousness so rapidly that time was racing by. He just wanted to close his eyes—they felt so heavy—and sleep without disturbance.
Lost to a world of dreams filled with images mixed with the real and the unreal, Vilmos became utterly confused and out of sync with reality. A voice in his mind told him to be strong. Another told him to let go, drift away.
He saw faces in his dreams. Some were pale with cheek bones and brows lined with tiny horns like the demon that had taken him to the dark priests. Others were kind, inviting, and very human.
Then from somewhere within the darkness of his mind he heard screams of pain. Voices begged him to run and all the while blood ran bright and red around him.
“Find the strength of Uver,” said a voice filtering into his dream. “In Zadridos you will find the key to the City of the Sky and there you can right the wrongs of the past.”
Points of light entered into his eyes, spinning around in his consciousness, playing subtly in his subconscious. He saw bodies all around him, heard screams, then he saw black robes swaying back and forth, people running and the glimmer of a blade striking again and again.
Clearly now Vilmos saw swamp trolls and hill giants in the midst of it all. They were the ones attacking the human priests and their demon masters. For a moment he thought of Edward, Edward the troant who had died so that he could escape the hunter beasts, then something cold and heavy was thrust into his hands.
“Take this,” said the warrior with the brankened collar and iron bit in his mouth. “You must go now. You are home, free.”
Vilmos stared wild-eyed at the bloody scene. Was it real? Was this really happening? Or was he trapped in a horrible dream?
He closed his eyes, opened them. Nothing changed.
He bit down hard on his tongue. Blood and pain told him he was beyond dreams.
He started to run. The voice within told him strange things, gave him outlandish ideas. He could feel the wildness of the land play upon his mind.
Off in the distance he thought he saw movement. It was merely the wind rustling the leaves of a small stand of trees. Vilmos scrambled toward the trees. He felt safe as he lay down in their midst, as if he had reached an impenetrable sanctuary. The trees smelled fresh, not distinctive as pine or subdued as oak, thought Vilmos, perhaps hickory.
He propped his back up against a stout, stunted tree and gazed out into the darkness. His body was weary, so very tired. His struggle was almost at an end, or perhaps only at the beginning with the victor yet to be decided. As he closed his eyes a flood of visions came to him in the form of a dream. A dream that held a catching twist of realism.
Vilmos had not dreamed so fervently since Xith had been with him, but now there was no one to protect him or his soul. He was alone. The same dream had plagued his many sleepless nights in Tabborrath Village. Only now the dream seemed less strange, less frightening.
The dream carried him well into the night in what seemed an instant or an eternity depending on the moment. A shadow in his mind called out, Wake… Move… move… hurry! The bands of reality separated. The dream raced on. The wildness overtook him.
The voice cried out again. Move, wake, hurry! He lurched up. Just as he moved an arrow struck the tree where moments before his head had been.
He wasn’t nervous or frightened. He had known that was going to happen. He had witnessed the attack in his dream as clearly as if he had lived through it once already. He knew what he must do and so he acted. With a casual thought he enacted his magical shield.
With another flicker of thought he lit the area around the knoll until everything around him glowed with a dim, yellow hue. He saw the creatures in the trees preparing to pounce. He knew what they were. They were called wood trolls, nothing but nuisances. He loathed such lowly creatures.
These were the same beasts that had attacked him and Xith what seemed ages ago. Only this time the trolls were in greater numbers and armored, perhaps they had remembered him or perhaps they were coming to kill the boy while he slept. They were going to get a lot more than they had bargained for.
He tossed a simple thought into their minds, saying, “Come unto me, O’ my children!”
The voice was not his own, but that of one with great power. It was this same strange power that gnawed away at Vilmos’ consciousness. The same power the shaman wished to awaken. The same power that the shaman feared.
The wood trolls watched and waited. He struggled against the power growing within him. They made their attack, descending out of the trees in a pack.
In that instant Vilmos pitied them. In the next they were dead. Wiped out as one would swat bothersome bugs.
The power ate at his mind. It drove him to new heights of consciousness.
“I HAVE ARRIVED!” he cried out into the night, “GATHER UNTO ME, O’ MY CHILDREN. I AM THE FUTURE. I AM THE PAST. I AM THE PRESENT. I AM CREATED OUT OF THAT WHICH YOU FEAR MOST. I AM CREATED FROM YOURSELVES AND NOTHING SHALL STAND IN MY WAY!”
“No!” a voice cried out in
his thoughts. “N-o-o!” the voice continued, filled with dread. “Control, you must find control!”
Control was a meaningless word. He did not care. The voice like the word was a meaningless echo in the corner of his mind. The strength of life eternal was within him. He bathed in it. It was magnificent.
“Stop!” the voice said.
A surge of pain ran through his head. His world went dark. The voices remained. They hovered all around him. They spoke words Vilmos couldn’t understand in a sing-song ancient tongue.
Complete Kingdoms and the Elves of the Reaches Page 61