Ephemeral Boundary (T'Quel Magic 1)

by Candy Rae

  “Tathar.”

  “Panel.”

  “Evil.”

  The remainder of his words were incoherent. He rambled on for a few more moments then lapsed into unconsciousness again. Aranel sat back on her heels and turned to Rohir.

  “So what was all that about?” she asked.

  The old hunts-elf looked worried.

  “I am not sure,” he began, scratching his head. “Lord Arovan wants you to go, that is clear, but where?”

  “He talked about the panel and a message but what panel? Is it at Tanquelameir? It is burned to the ground.”

  “Not Tanquelameir. It must be somewhere else. Think Aranel. Think.”

  The light of understanding dawned on Aranel.

  “The night before we left for our hunt. Father and I were talking, up in the tower. He mentioned a lodge he and my mother used to go to. I think he was happy there. He said last night but he has a fever, perhaps he thinks our talk happened last night.”

  “That could be it,” agreed Rohir.

  “Do you know where it is?” asked Aranel eagerly.

  “Yes, it is to the north and east, amongst the high red trees. You know where I’m talking about?”

  Aranel nodded. “Father took me there once, when I was a little girl. I didn’t know there was a lodge there. We rode through the trees.”

  “The lodge, it is very small. I was much younger than I am now when I used to go there. Lord Arovan never took with him more than a few retainers when he went. It sits on a knoll right in the middle of the high trees, in a clearing, beside a stream. You cannot be sure that your father was definitely meaning that building but I think it’s your best chance. He used to go off sometimes, after your mother died, I often wondered if that was where he went. Yes, that is where you must start.”

  Aranel looked as if she was going to argue the point.

  “You must do as your father asked,” insisted Rohir.

  “I cannot leave him. I won’t leave him, not like this.”

  “Can’t, or won’t?” he queried with a glint of challenge on his face. “You must go. I think this is your task Aranel. We will look after your father and keep him safe.”

  “You will take him to King Huor?”

  “I promise Aranel. Do you wish to go alone? I can go with you. The other two can take your father to the king.”

  Aranel shook her head.

  “I have more chance of getting through on my own and you know it. Also, Urieline is black. She will be one of those that will return. The other unicorns, except for Urien, that are coming back might not be black-haired and if not, they will be white and too easily seen. No Rohir. I must go alone. I will ask Urieline if she will take me. She will agree, I am sure of it.”

  The old hunter sighed.

  “They said that they would be returning and because they said so, they will. Unicorns always keep their promises,” was all he said, accepting that Aranel must set out on her quest alone.

  * * * * *

  The unicorns arrived at the cave as promised. It was during the early evening when one of the karl-elves on watch reported that they were coming.

  “There are five,” he told the others, ducking his head inside the cave mouth.

  Aranel glanced at her father. After that short time when Lord Arovan had spoken, instructing her to take over his task, he hadn’t said anything that could be understood. The fever still held him within its grip although Rohir promised that it was definitely beginning to break and he would be well on his way to recovery soon.

  She and Rohir went out to meet the unicorns.

  Neither was surprised when the one leading them was Urien, nor that Urieline had returned too.

  The large black, sleek-coated unicorn stallion inclined his head.

  “Lady Aranel,” he said.

  Aranel bowed low.

  “You had no trouble on your journey?” she inquired.

  “None,” he replied. “The gryphwens are gone, back to whence they came. We have seen neither sight nor sound of them these two days past.”

  “Are the elves that are obviously allied to them gone also?” asked Aranel.

  “We think so. I sent some out to look and they have reported none.”

  “What’s he saying?” asked Rohir, who did not possess a torc. Aranel had offered him the temporary use of her father’s but he had refused. To him, Urien’s side of the conversation was just so many neighs and whinnies.

  “Urien says that the unicorns haven’t seen or heard either the gryphwens or the Morityaro, if it was them, for two days.”

  Rohir whistled in relief.

  “Good,” he said.

  “It’s not to say that there aren’t any out there,” she reminded him. “Just that they have not been seen. They might be gone from the skies but there is no way to tell for certain.”

  “How is Lord Arovan?” Urien asked.

  “Better than he was,” Aranel said, “but he is still very sick.”

  “Will he be able to ride?”

  “Rohir can tie him on if necessary but you cannot wait too long,” Aranel answered. “He needs proper care. We do not have the medicines to ensure that he recovers fully.”

  “When will he be able to ride?”

  “In a few days,” she answered. “He needs to go to King Huor, to Taured.”

  “That we can do,” said Urien, glancing over at his compatriots, who were nodding vigorously, their nostrils flaring.

  “Ask him if Prince Amras knows of this?” Rohir urged.

  Aranel did.

  Urien answered in the positive.

  “Tanquelameir? Is it completely destroyed?”

  Urien shook his head, his long mane flowing. “Prince Amras sent the Third Nosse to check. The main tower has gone and also most of the outbuildings, they were made of wood but he told us that it can be rebuilt.”

  Aranel nodded.

  “Survivors? What of my stepmother and stepsisters?”

  “Prince Amras reported that there was no trace of them to be found,” Urien answered.

  “No bodies? Nothing at all?” Aranel’s voice was anguished.

  “No, but there were a few who managed to survive,” Urien said. “The warriors of the Nosse found them in one of the lower wine cellars, hiding behind some barrels. A wall and partition fell in. Those who attacked Tanquelameir did not find them.”

  “But the Nosse did? How did they manage that?”

  “I believe they had a Whisperer with them, one of little strength but talent enough,” Urien told her. “The Whisperer sensed their presence and so they were rescued. Although in a bad way, they will survive.”

  “Did they know anything else about the attackers?” asked Aranel.

  “Not much I believe, although one of them did say that she saw a gryphwen, with what she thought was an elf in his talons, flying away. However, the report is unconfirmed. No elf-else saw anything of note.”

  He looked around.

  “We shall go feed,” he announced. “We shall return soon.”

  Aranel and Rohir watched as the unicorns melted into the trees.

  Aranel sighed with exasperation.

  “I thought they would have known more,” she said.

  Rohir placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

  “Come inside Aranel,” he said. “It is time for you to make ready to depart.”

  * * * * *

  Aranel met again with Urien before she left.

  She stepped out of the cave to find the lead stallion and Urieline standing waiting for her.

  “Urien, Urieline. Good morning. Is there any more news?”

  “No,” Urien replied, “But that is not why I wished to talk to you before your leave-taking. You realise that we unicorns can understand much of elf-speech?”

  Aranel smiled. “My father told me a long time ago. We cannot understand you without a torc though.”

  “Yes. It is a failing of the elves is it not that we, dragons and gryphons can understan
d you but you cannot understand us without magical help?”

  “I suppose you could call it that,” agreed Aranel, wondering where this was going.

  All elves knew of the legend whereby creatures that had been touched by the Lady and her descendants had been given the gift of understanding. Aranel, like the majority of elves, believed this was a story developed to explain why this was so. Who the lady of the legend was, was long lost in the mists of time and belief.

  “We understand much but not all,” said Urien. He shuffled his hooves, as if embarrassed about something.

  “We, I,” interrupted Urieline, “heard the elf you call Rohir and you talking last night. We were not trying to listen, but could not help but hear.”

  “The ears of the unicorns are renowned for their ability,” said Aranel politely. “If you overheard our conversation, then do not be ashamed. We weren’t discussing any secrets.”

  “No, but, can you trust the two karl-elves, Quisil and Fideln?”

  “Can any elf trust any elf in these troubled times?” asked Aranel. “But, yes, these two elves can be trusted above all others in my father’s Karl. They swore a blood-oath when they were young.”

  “Ahh,” neighed Urien, looking very relieved to hear this. In the Five Kingdoms a blood-oath was sacrosanct; to break it by deed or thought would be to endanger your soul and would bring great dishonour to yourself and to your family.

  “You are leaving your father and the others and going away,” stated Urieline. “I must be the one who will go with you.”

  “It will be dangerous,” Aranel warned.

  “I still wish to take you,” insisted Urieline, pawing at the ground. “Do not refuse me.”

  “And here I was, wondering how I would be able to persuade you to come,” Aranel smiled, half-teasing.

  “The failure of the T’Quel concerns us all,” said Urien. “If we unicorns can help in any way, then we will, even if it costs us our lives. There is the not so little matter of finding those who attacked Tanquelameir as well. Your father and his fathers before him have always been friends of the unicorns. His grief is our grief. We wish to find who was responsible, and, to mete out due punishment.”

  “When do we leave?” asked Urieline.

  “Perhaps this evening?” ventured Aranel. “It would be best if we travel by night if that is all right with you?”

  “That will be fine,” Urieline answered in her serene ‘voice’. “I will be ready.”

  “And thank you,” said Aranel. “I could never even have thought about getting there safely without you.”

  “I know,” Urieline said. “That is the reason why I go.”

  * * * * *

  Lord Arovan’s fever was a little less that last evening. He roused enough to say a few words. He wished Aranel good luck as she bent over to kiss him goodbye. The only other word she could decipher was a name that sounded like her little sister Khirstvain’s name.

  “Be careful,” ordered Rohir, tears in his eyes, hugging her with a fierce protectiveness as if with it, he would still be able to protect her once she was gone. They had known each other a long time, since Rohir had watched her toddling after her nursemaid at Tanquelameir.

  He was fumbling with something in his hand.

  “Take this,’ he whispered into her ear and placed the object into her hand.

  Aranel looked then shook her head.

  “I can’t take this,” she whispered back. “It’s your energy stone! You said it belonged to your mother, the only thing you had of hers to remember her by.”

  “She would want you to have it,” he insisted, stepping back.

  Aranel bowed to the two Karl-elves who gravely bowed in return. The smaller one’s eyes, like Rohir’s own, looked suspiciously bright. Like Rohir, he had known Aranel for a long time.

  She picked up her pack. Her bow and arrows were already slung over her shoulder, along with her father’s sword and, after a last gaze at him, she walked out of the cave to where Urieline was waiting.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 10

  ‘Something wicked this way comes.’

  (Macbeth – The Scottish Play)

  (William Shakespeare (1564-1616))

  CHIMERAN KING

  Remember, not even a hint of what I am planning must pass from your lips to his ears.

  “Sire,” the Morityaro leader bowed low.

  The hooded figure acknowledged the bow.

  “Your report if you please.”

  The Morityaro leader hesitated but only for a moment. His royal employer was not renowned for his patience.

  “We have the prisoners,” he began his answer but was interrupted.

  “All of them?”

  The question was derisory, as if the royal chimeran knew fine well that the plan to take Tanquelameir Castle had not gone exactly as he had desired.

  “We have Lord Arovan’s wife and his two younger daughters,” the Morityaro leader said.

  “And the Lady Aranel?”

  “The elder one is, we believe, dead. There was a fire.”

  “I know all about the fire,” the words snapped out of the chimeran’s mouth, full of menacing anger. “I wished you to take the castle intact. What good is a blackened ruin to me?”

  “It was an accident,” the dark-robed Morityaro admitted, hot faced. “An oven fire started the blaze in the kitchens. The fight was bloody. It was difficult.”

  “You are paid well for your services. Next time I wish my orders to be obeyed to the letter.”

  “Yes Sire. They will be.”

  “There were none that escaped? You are absolutely certain?”

  “None escaped alive. We searched the surrounding countryside for a considerable distance. The few who fled the initial attack were dealt with.”

  “Did you find Lord Arovan’s body?”

  “It is under the fallen stones and roof of the main tower. It collapsed. Lord Arovan was seen entering it a short while before. He didn’t come out.”

  “Good.” The king pursed his lips in satisfaction. “I am prepared to be magnanimous. I will pay you the full sum of your fee.”

  “Thank you Sire.”

  “The prisoners?”

  “They have been taken to the place of confinement exactly as you ordered. We will guard them day and night.”

  “See that they are well cared for. No accidents. I don’t want any deaths, at least not yet, not until I am in possession of the information I need.”

  “I will sire.”

  The king looked out of the slit of a window.

  “The sea is restless tonight,” he said.

  “Indeed sire,” said the Morityaro leader, wondering where this was leading. “You have a further commission for me?”

  “Yes, a little errand, to look for someone. It should not be a difficult task for an elf of your abilities. You still have in your possession the two rings I lent you to aid your search, so …”

  “Yes Sire?”

  “You have done moderately well so far to track Lord Arovan and to bring back the human woman. There was a daughter you said?”

  “Yes, she has a daughter.”

  “A human daughter?”

  “As far as we could ascertain, yes. The images of her that we have certainly indicate a pure human ancestry.”

  “And what is this human woman’s link to Lord Arovan?”

  “She was, is, his friend, no more.”

  “You found nothing linking her or this daughter more directly to Lord Arovan?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  “But you failed to bring her to me as well did you not?”

  “We could not find her Sire, it was if she had disappeared into thin air. She must have had help.”

  “Elf help?”

  “Possibly,” answered Ruac with a sneer of contempt, “it would be like Arovan Cuthalion. He is soft-hearted.”

  “You have been to the castle of Wielder Crucius?”

  “Once,” lied Ruac.r />
  “I wish you to go there and apprise Wielder Crucius of recent events.”

  “I will Sire,” answered Ruac, “immediately.”

  “And after that, I wish you to start hunting for someone, an elf. I do not believe Lord Arovan’s daughter died at Tanquelameir.”

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 11

  ‘Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!’

  (King Lear)

  (William Shakespeare (1564-1616))

  ARANEL’S QUEST

  The weather had broken. It was terrible, with lashing rain and wind. It did however match Aranel’s mood. It was also, as Aranel knew, good for discouraging pursuit and those who were probably looking for her, both on the ground and in the air. The rain was washing their hoof and foot tracks away. The heavy rain and cloud cover were also helping because gryphwens didn’t like to fly in these conditions. Soaking wet feathers were death to a gryphwen in flight, theirs being less fulsome and water resistant than those sported by their age-old foes and distant cousins the gryphons. Both creatures had approximately the same body mass but the gryphons were by far the better flyers.

  They were following the path of a full-flowing stream; one that Aranel knew led to the area of the high trees. It hadn’t been hard to find and they were now approaching the knoll on which the lodge was supposed to sit.

  Trepidation filled Aranel. What if the elves that had attacked her father’s castle were already there? Worse, what if they had been there and had found the panel and the note hidden behind it.

  “Almost there,” she said to Urieline.

  Urieline harrumphed. She had hated the journey. Her black coat was soaked through and all she wanted was food, a rub down and a dry place to sleep, not necessarily in that order. She quickened her step.

  As she spied the first little pieces of a moss-covered log roof peeking out from between the trees, Aranel swung her leg over Urieline’s back and jumped to the ground.

  “Wait here,” she commanded. “I’ll go see if it is safe.”

  “Are you trying to be funny?” exclaimed Urieline. “As if I would let you go in alone. My teeth are sharp and my legs and hooves strong. We will go in together.” She didn’t say that she didn’t want to stay out in the rain a moment longer than was necessary. Hooves or not, Urieline fully intended to ignore any stable buildings in the area and go into the lodge with Aranel. The prospect of danger didn’t come into her decision. Urieline hated the wind and the wet.