“Yes, as a matter of fact I am,” Addyean replied, sheathing the dagger that he had hastily drawn. “Your silence has much improved since I saw you last. Then, you could not sneak up on old Master Werd, and he was near deaf.”
The companions laughed at the day when they were both pupils of the gruff, but kindly Master Werd. What Addyean wouldn’t give to have those carefree days back.
“If you don’t mind me asking, you know Baron Ercrilla is a good friend of mine, and I was hoping…” Sir Terin haltingly broke the silence.
“You don’t need to worry,” the farmer-spy assured him. “Baron Ercrilla has been cleared of all wrongdoing. If the truth be known, King Garkin sent me just as much because I was tired of court life and wanted to get back to the soil.”
Sir Terin was certainly glad to hear this, and left Addyean to his thoughts for the rest of the journey. It was funny, Addyean thought to himself, that Baron Ercrilla didn’t recognize him when he went back, since they had in fact met many times over the years. But Addyean was careful to spend his time in the shadows, and when he did meet people he always seemed so ordinary that they soon forgot him. Baron Ercrilla would never look a poor farmer in the eye and see who he really was.
Addyean and Sir Terin soon arrived at the king’s private council chamber. It was time to talk of war.
Upon entering, Addyean noted with dissatisfaction that Warren had indeed been invited. Apparently the king trusted him enough; Addyean would have to talk to the king in private later. Also present was General Cilio, a master strategist, a man Addyean both admired greatly and feared. His pure intelligence made most people, Addyean included, very uneasy. Yet, whenever a battle was to be fought, his schemes so beguiled the enemy that his battles were legendary. There were songs sung about him in taverns that said he could defeat thousands with an army of three. Addyean was sure there was a measure of hyperbole, but not very much. They would certainly need him to counter the master strategies of the Dark One and his sister. Those beings had a completely different way of thinking, and they didn’t mind sacrificing their own armies to gain an advantage. That made them very difficult to fight against.
There was another that Addyean did not know standing in the corner, his face hidden by a cloak drawn tightly over his head.
King Garkin was enthusiastic as he surveyed those assembled in the council chamber. “Welcome, friends! Since everyone is here, we can begin.”
The servants, who had been pouring wine and waiting on the dignitaries, didn’t need to be told twice to leave and join the festivities in another part of the city. When they had left, six solemn people remained in the room.
“Since we have much to accomplish here today,” began the king. “I trust we can dispense with the formalities. Does everyone know everyone else here?”
“All but one, my lord.” Sir Terin would always be formal.
“There is no need for formalities, Ironfist. I had forgotten that many of you don’t have the pleasure of knowing this most distinguished warrior. May I present to you, Hano of the elves. He has come to us from Breshen. It seems the Elder One is having quite a problem with isolated border infringements from the east.”
With this the cowled figure removed his hood and stepped from his corner to join the rest of the council. General Cilio, always one to be thinking of military matters, was the first to speak. “We are indeed very fortunate to have allies so close to the Dark One.”
“Too bad all humans don’t feel that way.” Hano’s statement was colder than he meant it. “I apologize.” Hano’s deeply ingrained elven manners surged to the front immediately. “Please forgive me for my rudeness. I have had a lot on my mind lately.”
“As have we all,” King Garkin commented gravely. “Except me, actually. I have had nothing on my mind, and I would be in the eternal sleep of death if it had not been for Addyean here. Tell us one more time about your trip to Treshin. I saw in your eyes, the first things that I saw when I was revived, that something wonderful happened to you there. You changed more than a few years of hard farm work could have done.”
Addyean, it is fair to say, felt a little intimidated. He was among the most powerful men in the world, and they were all staring at him, ready to listen to his fabulous story. Everyone here, with the exception of Warren and himself were great military leaders. Addyean, not for the first time, wished Zelin were present to help them. How Addyean wished for Zelin’s wisdom, to help him explain the events of the last few weeks, but Addyean knew that he was not there, and that Addyean himself must give the narrative. Still, there were three that Addyean did not fully trust, his years spying having made him perhaps a little too cautious. So he decided to lie.
“When I saw that you were ill, I hurried to Treshin, the holiest place that I could think of. When I got there, I explained the situation to a priest, who immediately got a vial and drew water out of the spring. I came back as fast as I could and gave it to you.”
Everyone present except Hano burst into applause. When Addyean turned to look at him, the elf muttered under his breath, so only Addyean heard him. “Perhaps we’ll get to hear the truth someday.”
Addyean focused his startled gaze on Hano, unsure if he had heard him right. Addyean could adopt a new identity easily, and he was never caught lying. One look in Hano’s eyes told him that he had indeed heard right, but also that Hano was going to leave it at that. Hano knew that Addyean had his own motives for lying, and he would not pry.
With his statement finished, the king abruptly drew his sword. He commanded Addyean to kneel, and promptly bestowed upon him nearly every honor possible in the kingdom. King Garkin explained that he would much rather have given the honors at the festival in public, but the less the public knew about his spies, the better. Someday, when King Garkin no longer needed him, Addyean would receive a rich retirement indeed.
All of the formalities out of the way, the council turned to the task at hand. General Cilio brought a huge map of all of the known Lands of Daranor, and spread it out on a table that had been constructed for just such a purpose. “Let’s begin with all that we know,” he began matter-of-factly, as he stuck colored pins over areas of concentration of certain forces. “Darhyn, shown by red, presumably has an army positioned here, at Castle Rathskellar.”
“Do not say that name,” Terin reprimanded.
“He lives on your fear,” Cilio replied, unmoving. “If you do not fear him, he cannot touch you.” General Cilio, at that moment did indeed look like he did not fear anything. It was not the kind of courage Addyean knew of, however. To Addyean, courage was when you did your job on a battlefield even though you were afraid. To Cilio, on the other hand, fear was unnecessary, and indeed debilitating. This absolute unshaken confidence was what made Cilio a very good general, and what made a good many others fear him considerably, and at the same time be glad to be on his side.
“Put red dots around Breshen,” Hano added sadly. “He has been sending small parties of goblins and black dwarves into our outer villages, raping and pillaging.” Cilio placed the red dots accordingly.
“Will you be joining us in this struggle?” Cilio asked Hano. “Can we count on your army?”
“Certainly,” Hano replied, a little taken aback. “We are the ones asking for your help in the first place. You can always assume that the elves will defend our beloved forest to our last breath.”
“I expected as much,” Cilio replied icily, putting green pins in the area around Breshen. “But in war you never assume anything. Assumption leads to all mistakes. If you remember in the last great war, nearly three hundred years ago, Darhyn assumed that Marhyn was there to help him. He could have won the battle so easily, such was his advantage in strength. But when he left his flank open for her to join, she had her troops slaughter his army. That is really the only reason we “won” that war.”
“Speaking of Marhyn,” the king cut in hastily. “Will she be in this conflict? If so, what will be her plan?”
“If this
turns into a full war, the Dark Lady will certainly be involved.” Cilio’s answer left no doubt. “As to how, your majesty can bet it will be a crafty plan. We should send spies to ascertain more specific details.” Sir Terin put a black pin on Marhyn’s fortress, and King Garkin made a note on a piece of paper.
“What about the mermen?” Sir Terin asked his question as he looked about the room. “They would be valuable aid indeed if we need to engage in any water battles.”
“My friend Prince Dalin went to ask them for aid,” Hano replied. “He has fairly powerful friends there.” Hano said it, condescendingly, almost as if having friends of other races wasn’t the best thing to do. “He had not yet returned when I left. Perhaps he has returned since I have been here.”
“As I see things now,” the king began slowly, “there is not sufficient reason for war. I will not order the troops to attack if there has not been any provocation. The Death Lord may be the embodiment of evil, but I can’t put the entire world on hold to go attack a fortress just out of the blue. This place has remained there abandoned for the last three hundred years. Half of my kingdom probably doesn’t even believe it exists.” King Garkin held up a hand as Hano tried to reply. “We can aid your people in their border clashes. But there is a big difference between some border clashes and mobilizing the whole country to attack an abandoned fortress. I just don’t see what we can really stand to gain from it.”
“Very good plan, my lord,” Warren added, speaking for the first time. “The people of Daranor are enjoying peace. There is no reason to start this slaughter. You have been in battles before, all of you. You know in war everybody loses.”
“There is just one other thing,” Addyean broke the silence. “There is a boy named Tarthur who lives in Krendon, the village I was working in. The reason that I came here, other than completing my assignment, is that a few weeks ago he had a dream. It is said that the Death Lord can communicate to some by his thoughts. In this dream, he killed the Dark One and found a spell hidden in his castle. Tarthur copied the words down while he was still asleep, on a scroll his friend gave him. When he showed this scroll to Zelin and I neither of us could read it. Zelin believes that Tarthur may have found the spell that controls the Water Orb. Zelin also believes that the Death Lord was sufficiently weakened by this defeat. If we muster all of our forces and attack now, we may be able to capture the Water Orb. With both it and the Power of Earth that you possess, we could have almost unchallenged dominion.”
“Where is this Zelin now?” questioned Hano.
“He went to seek assistance from the Council of Gurus,” Addyean replied. “I hope he will return soon. If the council will help us, he will obtain their aid.”
“The Water Orb is the key to success.” King Garkin mused silently. “This changes everything. If we could regain the Water Orb, the kingdom would increase in prosperity and we would be secure from virtually all enemies. So I will order the troops to begin training and I will make sure all of my fortresses are stockpiled with weapons and armor. Hano, return to your people and continue to try to defeat these bandits. I hope dearly that they are nothing more. Cilio, I want you to go and help the elves. With your guidance, I am sure their enemies will be promptly routed. Addyean, wait for Zelin, and when he comes, we will have another meeting, where we can hopefully achieve more than we have achieved here. At that time, we will finalize a plan of attack. I must say that we will need some time, though. We haven’t fought a war in many years, and our army is out of training. So we better get started right away.”
The counselors all agreed that this was the best course of action, at least for the time being, and all set about their tasks. Hano agreed to return with Cilio in a month, for by then they might have crushed the goblins. After all, as Warren pointed out, goblin uprisings were fairly common, happening every generation or so when a relatively pugnacious goblin chieftain would take control of the tribes and attempt to wreak havoc throughout the kingdom. They were usually repelled without much trouble, and there was no real reason to believe that these goblins were linked with Darhyn.
There were a few pats on the back, and the companions emerged from the council chamber of King Garkin, ready to join in the festivities, at least for the time being.
* * *
A priest gave him the water! Warren could not believe that was all that prevented him from becoming king. He made a mental note to kill this Addyean. No! Not just kill him! He would torture him and make him pay for ruining their scheming. As he would learn in a dream later that night, Darhyn had anticipated the turn of events, and had already modified his plan.
* * *
When Tarthur awoke the next morning, he was almost unbearably stiff and cold. As he got up and tried to move around to combat these two forces, he was suddenly struck by a third—thirst. He looked around, and soon he heard Derlin calling him from a short distance away.
Tarthur went over to his friend, who was also accompanied by Yan, the old man looking more fit than ever. Derlin had discovered a small mountain stream, which danced and glistened in the early morning light as it wound its way through the rocks and shrubs. As Tarthur bent over to drink the cool, pure water, he was abruptly reminded, more than by the cold in his joints, of the time of year. The water tasted good, almost sweet to someone who has drunk the untainted water of mountain streams from his youth, but who has been recently deprived of it for some time. Tarthur took a large gulp of the water, and immediately realized his folly, for the water was so cold, it took his breath away.
Once they had all drunk their fill, they decided to start moving. Derlin reminded them that they should move rather quickly, if any of Marhyn’s forces were still in pursuit. They hadn’t seen any monsters. In fact, the only animal they saw was an eagle circling around them. They also knew that without food and warm clothes in this strange land with winter approaching, the cold would finish the job for the Queen of Darkness. They didn’t have much of a plan, Derlin only recalling—he thought—that the castle of King Garkin was somewhere to the north. Not that they had much choice in the matter, they weren’t about to go back south toward Marhyn’s fortress. They then agreed to travel north until they came to some small village, where they could get some supplies and ask for directions.
So they followed the stream, which fortunately for them happened to be going north, having its origin somewhere in the tops of the Rune Mountains. By noon, they had arrived at the base of the Rune Mountains, and here they paused for a midday rest. In normal times it would be called a lunch, but having no food, the companions didn’t feel it was fair to call it that.
It was in the late afternoon that more eagles appeared. Yan glanced up at them. Tarthur had always believed eagles to be solitary creatures, so he was surprised to see so many of them together. It was only when the birds landed right in front of them that Tarthur saw that one of them was carrying something.
The bird clutched a package wrapped tightly in its claws. The eagle struggled with its cargo, gripping it tightly in its talons and flapping its wings repeatedly in order to stay aloft. He dropped it at the companions’ feet and then perched on a nearby rock. The parcel was wrapped tightly in supple leather but Tarthur thought he could make out a muffled clanging sound when it hit the ground. The birds waited, watching the companions.
“I feel like we should open it,” Yan started, a confused look in his eyes. “This stirs a memory within a dream for me.”
Tarthur was never one to question a gift, so he walked slowly forward, keeping his eyes on the birds. They watched him intently, but made no move to stop him. The knots that held the leather in place were well tied, but he used the sword Derlin had taken from the goblin before the wall fell to cut them open. What Tarthur saw inside made him gasp in shock and made his heart leap up into his chest.
It was a sword.
It was clear that this was no ordinary sword. The blade wasn’t too long, but as Tarthur found when he pulled it from its scabbard, there were strange runes trace
d along the length of the blade. Tarthur could tell it was powerful and old, sacred even. Yet, the sword was also simple and elegant.
Yan and Derlin came up behind him.
“This… this is the Rune Sword.” Tarthur could tell that Yan was struggling to remember, but only small bits and pieces were coming through to him. “We must take it with us. It is an object of great power. I feel like it has something to do with compelling truth… Perhaps when we reach the king there will be a magician there who can fill us in on the details.”
It was the most that Tarthur had ever heard Yan say at one time. Tarthur was planning to take the sword with them, but something didn’t make sense. When he and Derlin played as heroes, all sorts of objects of power would happen to appear right in their path, and they never questioned it. He had learned reality was sharply different. This was the first thing on their journey that had seemed too easy. Why had the eagles chosen them for the sword? Or was this just a trap of Marhyn, a way for her to track them? In any case, they still weren’t far enough away from her, and Tarthur knew that they must continue on their journey with all speed. The three of them bowed to the eagles and turned to go northward. The birds seemed satisfied, as each launched himself into the air and sailed away.
After a few more hours of hard hiking, Tarthur stopped and glanced back at Marhyn’s citadel. All three turned and stared at it, although it was pretty far away. It seemed that they had made good time. None of the companions wanted to sleep with that monstrosity looming over them, invading their sleep with nightmares, so they traveled a little further and made camp, if it could be called that with no tents or fire ring, in a grove of aspen trees where the shadow was not so ominous.
When Tarthur and Derlin awoke the next morning, Yan was gone.
There was no note, no sign, no footprints that announced his absconding. Tarthur’s stiffness and chill were quickly forgotten as this new problem arose. They looked for Yan the better part of the morning, then gave up when it became apparent that the search was futile. Tarthur was genuinely worried about Yan. Yan was so alone, so frightened in this new world. Tarthur and Derlin were his only friends. Where could he have gone? It was supposed to be the grownups worrying about the kids, not the other way around. With a sigh, Tarthur started the day’s journey, feeling alone once more. This was not the first companion that they had lost, Tarthur reflected sadly, and he knew it would not be the last.
Lands of Daranor: Book 01 - DreamQuest Page 10