A black clad soldier of Queen Marhyn sliced his sword through the chest of a man of Freeton, and Yonathan cut the man down from behind. Yonathan glanced up to the plain north of the city. Through tears of joy, he saw what he was waiting for. It was as if his eyes had been made for no other purpose in life than to witness this moment. Coming from the north with the speed of air was a sprawling mass of the king’s troops. Yonathan saw thousands of bright weapons and pieces of armor glinting in the light. They were galloping as fast as they could with Yan as a red dragon flying at the head. Yonathan began to cry, he was so happy. Freeton would be saved! His city would be saved! Yonathan had never been prouder in his life to raise his voice and yell the battle cry of his victorious town. “Freeton Forever!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, thrusting his blood-stained sword high into the air.
No one answered him. Yonathan turned and surveyed the remains of the town with horror. Everywhere Marhyn’s servants were setting fire to buildings, and the conflagration was quickly spreading from rooftop to rooftop. Yonathan did not see a single man from Freeton up to stop them. Even Kandan had disappeared somewhere in the inferno. In that moment, that moment where elation had turned so quickly to despair, Yonathan ran. Freeton was lost—it was useless to stay any longer. To do so would only be to lose his life in some hopeless cause. Yonathan thought about staying. He wanted to fight to his death and stay with his town. Every man that he could kill would help ease him into death; he would even embrace it with open arms. No, that was the easy way out. To die here and now would not benefit his town any. The ones in charge must pay. And Yonathan swore on his soul that it would be he that made them pay, with their lives.
As evening approached, Yonathan watched the smoldering town from the edge of General Cilio’s camp. The army had come and routed the rest of Marhyn’s force, but the damage was done. Yonathan was the only survivor. A young knight came up to offer the big man a blanket to ward off the evening chill. Yonathan pushed it away. The people of Freeton had no blankets on the cold nights that the wizard abused them! The town had been through so much together, and now it all ended like this.
The emptiness that Yonathan felt to the bottom of his soul consumed him. It felt as though he would never conquer it, as though the void was swallowing him and eating him up. The loss of his town would never be replaced. Yonathan thought of the bright future that the town had had. It would have grown and prospered. It could have become a great city even. He also thought of his friends, the people of Freeton with whom he had shared so much and who were now dead. They could have been anything in life. They were such good people, so undeserving of their end. Only a few months ago they had been freed from the wizard’s spell, and now they were all dead. Their whole lives had been wasted and they had only a few months’ time to show for it. Lapsing into melancholy, Yonathan stared at the ashes for the rest of the night and early into the morning.
* * *
On the other side of the world, or at least very far away, Derlin was sitting that night and talking with Valena. Tarthur had gone off with Yvonne (they were uh, talking, he claimed in some abandoned corner of the elven forest) and Derlin had stayed in Dalin’s house with nothing much to do. All of a sudden, she had walked into the room. Derlin gave a start at seeing so beautiful a creature so close to him, but then he had remembered that as she was Dalin’s sister, she probably lived there. Derlin had blushed furiously at first, and then started talking.
Derlin was terribly embarrassed and nervous when he began the conversation, stumbling over his own words, which only increased his anxiety all the more, further causing him to blurt out something wholly unintelligible. He thought that they would never understand each other, but Valena had an easy way about her, and while he couldn’t exactly put his finger on what it was, it was something that made Derlin feel relaxed and comfortable. While at first he had been totally at a loss for any subject that he could talk about that could possibly have any interest for her, soon he found out that she was indeed mortal and ate food and drank water and did just about all of the other normal things that other mortals did.
Words seemed to flow from Valena like honey, her golden sweet voice made Derlin wish that he could capture the sound in a jar and listen to it for hours when he was by himself. They talked of his boyhood, his travels, and his friends. They talked about her also, but she seemed more closely guarded when it came to revealing things about herself.
Derlin was just telling Valena about the time that Morty had started a fight with Tarthur in the town center back in Krendon. Tarthur had of course been up since well before daybreak attending to all of his chores or he would have been more attentive when Morty jumped on him from behind and knocking him to the ground, started to attack with all of his meager strength. This totally unprovoked attack (Tarthur had done something inconsequential to Morty the day before, but it really had nothing to do with the attack) was quickly repelled by Tarthur and Derlin’s supreme battle tactics and ended in Morty receiving several bloody noses and three fat lips. Not a hair on Tarthur nor Derlin was put out of place, of course. The head of Krendon, Baron Ercrilla, witnessed the fight and the unlawful attack on Tarthur and Derlin and sentenced all parties involved to a day without food. Tarthur and Derlin felt that their pure innocence was violated, so assuming a philosophy of civil disobedience, decided to eat anyway.
Now, although others advocated nonviolently breaking an unjust law and taking the blame rather than submitting to evil, the boys decided it would be better if they broke the law but Morty got the blame. If they stole food, it would be inevitable that someone would be blamed and beaten, and by a unanimous vote the two boys decided it would be better it were Mortimer than them. The boys weren’t that hungry at dinnertime, as their frequent escapades often left them without at least one meal, but by morning they were ravenous. Derlin couldn’t remember exactly, he thought that they were already up and started on their chores, but he was sure he saw two figures sneak in to Judith’s kitchen and steal the magnificent eggs that were to be served for breakfast. These two shadowy figures actually had the audacity to cook the meal there, and then devour it as if they had been sent to bed the night before without dinner.
Well, the boys made sure to stay away from such unsavory characters, but one of them ran by and deposited a small piece of the omelet in Tarthur’s pocket. Now that morning Tarthur had gone over to Morty to apologize for the previous day’s beating and see if any of Morty’s five black eyes had healed yet. Tarthur genuinely meant to reconcile the situation right then and there, but Morty was so crabby that Tarthur was forced to leave without making the amends that he wanted so badly to make. Now at that very moment the piece of omelet miraculously jumped out of Tarthur’s pocket where it had been deposited by the shadowy creature who had really committed the crime. The omelet leaped from containment and actually landed on Morty’s table! Tarthur and Derlin hurriedly left as they didn’t want to lose one precious second that they could be working.
When they left the room who should appear at that time but none other than Baron Ercrilla and Judith, who were jointly investigating the disappearance of such a succulent morsel which was to have formed breakfast for the baron himself. Now the passing by of these two stern angels of justice was purely coincidental, and Tarthur and Derlin’s visit had had absolutely no reason for occurring at the time it did save by pure chance.
Tarthur and Derlin often meditated on the real culprits, for Morty was forced to take the blame by his father on account of such overwhelming circumstantial evidence, but they had absolutely no idea who could have committed the heinous and dastardly crime. And all that was the truth, and nothing but the truth, exactly as they had told it to the town authority figures. Derlin remembered the story with some slight variations, but they really weren’t worth telling especially since it could implicate him and Tarthur. He was pretty sure none of this would get back to Judith, but he couldn’t be too sure. Besides, Baron Ercrilla was in Breshen with the army.
When Derlin was telling her about Morty’s injuries, Valena laughed. When she laughed it made Derlin’s heart stop. The sound was so pure, so clean, so full of life. Her laughter not only radiated joy, it filled the room with it. It filled up Derlin, until he thought his heart was going to burst. When Derlin stole a glance at her face, he saw the joy reflected in eyes also. Her laughter made Derlin feel alive, more alive than he had ever felt before. It made her perfect.
As Derlin continued his story, he wanted to make her laugh again and again. The more he heard her laughter, the more he wanted to hear it, the more he yearned for it. He tried to embellish parts, not that their stories needed embellishing. Valena helped him out. She laughed. And it made Derlin’s world brighter.
Derlin regretted when he finished. Precisely three minutes had passed since Valena had entered the room, yet he glanced outside, and by the same phenomenon that Tarthur had observed in Akin’s classroom, or the reverse of it rather, it was already dark! Derlin assumed it was solely a trick of the tree branches, but then he saw Valena stretch and yawn. It appeared someone had cast a spell that transported them four or five hours into the future, for it was indeed late.
“I really have enjoyed talking to you today, Derlin.” Valena’s soft words made Derlin’s heart beat so quickly that he almost fainted. “Good night.” With her gentle goodbye, she gracefully floated along the floor and into the darkness. Derlin was left in the room in silent wonder. She had enjoyed talking to him. The fact that it was just formality never even occurred to him. Derlin sat in his chair for a few more hours contemplating Valena, her hair, her face, her eyes, her words, her personality, too stunned to move. It was past midnight when he got up, left the room, and went to find Tarthur.
“But how will I know, Tarthur? When did you first find out that Yvonne was the one for you?”
Tarthur considered the question for a while and then responded. “I think it was right after I gave her the bloody nose. Yes, that was definitely it.”
Derlin shook his head in disgust. “Tarthur, that’s not very helpful to me. I certainly don’t plan to sock her in the nose. Can you imagine, to mar such beauty? To destroy such perfection? The world would be a sadder place for the loss of one of her eyelashes.”
“Although, a happier place for the loss of one of her ear-hairs,” Tarthur joked. Derlin looked at him angrily and was about to leave. It appeared that his friend would rather make jokes than give advice.
Tarthur saw that it was now time to be serious. “Wait. I know it is a big deal to you. Who is she?”
“The elven girl. Dalin’s sister.”
Tarthur nodded. “Yeah, she’s pretty.” Tarthur looked around quickly, hoping Yvonne had not sneaked into the room. The last time she had heard him call another girl pretty, she had decked him in the ear, and it still smarted. The funny part about the incident was that the girl was Yvonne’s identical twin sister Yvette, and Tarthur was only trying to give an indirect complement.
“Look, Derlin, you’ll know. When she walks by, do you feel it? Do you get the awe, do you say, ‘Wow?’”
“No,” Derlin said. “It’s more than that. I don’t get a ‘wow’, I get a ‘BOOM!!!!!!’ My body turns to lukewarm water and I feel it in my heart like a direct shot from Old Betsy’s hooves. It knocks me over. I wish I could tell you how it feels, but words, they seem so dry, so uncolorful compared to the real feeling! It just…” Realizing the futility of explaining such a thing, Derlin trailed off helplessly.
Tarthur nodded. “I know how it is. Now, all we need is a way to impress her so that she’ll like you too. I can use some magic, and we’ll get Yvonne to help also…”
And with that the boys began to plan…
The next day brought a few ideas, and a note that Valena was to be in charge of teaching elven customs and manners to Tarthur and Derlin. It seemed very important to the elves that everyone learn their culture and follow it. In any event, the invitation couldn’t have pleased Derlin more, and soon they were off on horseback through the woods. Valena led and Tarthur and Derlin followed behind. Valena had blushed when Derlin had helped her onto her horse. It appeared these men weren’t as uncivilized as others.
As they rode along, Valena would identify a flower or herb, and the boys would vainly try to remember each one. In the interludes between flowers that the boys were required to learn, she lectured them on elven history. As the forest was thick with life, however, these interludes were few and far between. Valena was showing them one flower, a beautiful blue one that gave off a cool and delicious aroma. “This one is called in the ancient tongue Poeloe. Our people use it for love. It is my favorite flower and I just adore the way it smells.” Derlin remembered that.
The night before they hadn’t been able to come up with too many ideas. Actually, ideas were not the problem, but rather the fact that Derlin didn’t know enough about Valena and what she would like. The boys agreed to halt further planning until they could find out enough to make something successful.
After their ride, Derlin and Tarthur went back to where the bulk of the army was encamped. There they trained and ate some heavy food for the first time since coming to Breshen. It tasted good, but Derlin missed Valena already.
In the days that followed, the boys stayed in Breshen, training, eating, resting, learning, and of course, planning.
* * *
It had been three days since General Cilio and his forces had turned away Queen Marhyn’s soldiers at the Goblin caves in the Tabletop Plateau. After the fall of Freeton, the rest of Queen Marhyn’s army caught up with the remnants of the expeditionary force and then they had veered sharply east. This was an apparent attempt to out-maneuver General Cilio’s army and attack King Garkin’s castle while there were no troops in it. They were attempting to pass along the Tabletop Plateau so they could use the goblins there as a help and with the rough terrain slip by Cilio and attack the soft underbelly of the capital.
General Cilio, however, had by some unknown means become aware of their plan, and had moved his army to the Tabletop Plateau to prevent Marhyn from passing through. For three days her dark armies had come, and for three days General Cilio’s impressive battle tactics had stopped them. Then Marhyn had withdrawn south, seemingly content to attack the lowland villages of Synthy, Ruf, and Shen. Those cities were valuable producers of grain and meat for King Garkin, and Cilio rushed after Marhyn’s armies to defend them.
Two more things: Cilio was becoming concerned with the conduct of Marhyn’s army. So far, he had not seen the Dark Lady herself, and while destroying their grain would definitely harm and weaken the king’s army, it would never defeat them. So far, except for the aborted attempt on the capital, Marhyn seemed content to burn and pillage. Beings like Marhyn were almost immortal. He knew that she would never attack if she didn’t think that she could win. Cilio began to fear that she was lulling them into a false sense of security, only to explode later. It was either that, or alliance between Marhyn and her hated brother. The latter was beginning to seem more and more likely. If Marhyn could tie up a sizable part of the king’s forces in the south, Darhyn would probably be able to take Breshen. Cilio was worried that Marhyn’s army was just acting as a diversion, but reports from Breshen indicated that no forces had been sighted outside of the Dark One’s fortress, and he was likely still asleep. So Cilio knew he had at least a little time to defeat Marhyn. Also: Yonathan was wrong. There had been one other survivor at Freeton. Early the next morning they had found Kandan Ironsmith, burned and injured, yet still barely alive, in the charred ruins of his town. Two knights had made a stretcher and carried him immediately to Treshin.
Marhyn’s army had a good two-day lead on Cilio, and they veered for the village of Ruf first. General Cilio had expected as much, for while the village at Synthy was closer, it was smaller by a good five hundred inhabitants and was barely worth destroying. If Marhyn could only destroy one, it would be Ruf. The only problem was that Ruf’s cornfields were to the north of the town.
They grew a special type of corn that could be harvested all year round, and produced much of the food for the king’s army.
General Cilio and his army caught sight of Marhyn’s forces on the third day near sunset, when they were only a day or so out of Ruf. That night, they lost them in the darkness. The next morning, they awakened to smoke. It was billowing out southward, huge black clouds that rolled up from the ground and rose to obscure the sky. It appeared they were already too late.
* * *
Garseon crouched motionless in the branches of the pine tree, the heat of the fires from the burning grain fields hot on his face. The Guard raised his reed to his lips, took careful aim, and fired. The goblin that was at the base of the tree slumped over dead and Garseon moved forward.
Floating effortlessly through the tall grasslands out of sight of Marhyn’s army, Garseon soon caught sight of what he was looking for. It was good, he thought, that Cilio had sent a member of the Guard rather than an ordinary scout for this mission. It ensured success. The Guard was the best in the realm, even if only twelve people even knew of its existence, and ten of them were members. General Cilio and King Garkin, however, were the two people who made the difference in the world.
Lands of Daranor: Book 01 - DreamQuest Page 25