by Candy Rae
“So what are you, here?” she asked Aranel who bit back the questions she had been going to ask when she realised Kirsty was getting upset.
“What am I?”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a warrior, as you’ve probably guessed, a fighter. I serve in the Fourth Nosse.”
Kirsty hadn’t guessed but didn’t quite like to admit her ignorance.
“I’m a member of the Nosse, King Huor’s army.”
So that was what the Nosse was. Kirsty stored this additional information in her memory. Her sister was a soldier.
“We patrol the T’Quel and generally keep the kingdom safe from enemies. We also do ceremonial duties at the king’s castle. His personal guard is recruited from the best warriors in the Nosse.”
“Is that what you want to be? A king’s warrior?”
“I’m already a warrior,” Aranel didn’t confide how new she actually was in her profession. “What do you do?”
“I’m, er, I’m a student, just finished my degree.”
Aranel’s face was one giant question mark.
“I’m a scholar,” Kirsty explained further, privately thinking that Warrior Aranel wouldn’t think much of that. Contrary to her thought though, Aranel appeared to be impressed.
“A scholar!” she exclaimed. “You must be really clever. And I’ve never heard of a scholar who is also a Magic Wielder before.”
Kirsty felt embarrassed. I know I’ve got brains but next she’ll be calling me a genius and that I most certainly am not!
“I’m no more clever than the next person,” she insisted. “I bet you were no dud at lessons.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Aranel grinned. “I could never be much bothered with them. I’m sure I was the despair of Scholar Lenwas. All I wanted was to be outdoors and learning weapons craft.”
“Think how dull it would be if we were all alike,” said Kirsty. “I’ve always heard that sisters should be as different as they could be. It leads to less competition in the family.”
“Competition? Are we in competition? I think not. We may have been flung together at a moment’s notice but we are blood kin. That is what is important and we should remember it when life gets difficult. And, during the next few days, I promise that I’ll start teaching you more about how to live here in Alfheimr. I may not be the clever one academically but I can beat you hollow when living in a forest, how to hunt and how not to be seen by those who want to see you. You’re like a gigantic, blundering ghrandhir the way you move about!”
Kirsty considered herself well chastised but at the same time didn’t feel that it was a rebuke.
“I’ll look forward to it,” she said, and meant it.
Then she instantly regretted saying the words. Aranel immediately decided to start the process of educating Kirsty at once rather than wait until they had rested.
* * * * *
Urieline’s voice came from the trees.
“Ursulaine comes.”
Urieline went to greet her sister and the two girls rose to their feet. They watched as the two unicorns began picking their way towards them.
Ursulaine was, like Urieline, black from the tip of her nose to the last hair on the end of her tail, and Kirsty felt sure she would be exceedingly hard pressed to tell them apart. They were about the same height and build, their faces looked identical and both their horns were shiny, ebony black.
Not knowing how one greeted a unicorn, she hadn’t thought to ask Aranel about manners and protocol, Kirsty held back and let Aranel perform the necessary, copying her movements a split-second after.
Aranel bowed and Ursulaine inclined her head.
“Welcome,” said Aranel, “and thank you.”
“No thanks are needed, daughter of Arovan. Your need is my need.” She bent a frankly inquiring look to Kirsty.
“This is my sister,” said Aranel, indicating her kinship with her right hand over her breast. “Her name is Kirsty.”
“Kirsty?” exclaimed Ursulaine, stepping back. “That is not an elf name, and,” her nostrils flared, “there is something different about her. Is she an elf?”
And it’s not just my clothes, thought Kirsty wryly. She rather thought she might get rather tired of people calling her ‘different’ in the days to come.
“Her father is my father,” explained Aranel. “Her mother is from out-world.”
“She came through the T’Quel,” stated Ursulaine, nodding her head. “I have heard of such folk. The mists grow restless. No matter, I will carry her where she needs to go. Unicorns are ever the friends of the House of Cuthalion.”
“Have you heard anything from Lord Arovan?” asked Aranel.
“He goes to Taured in the company of Urien and others,” she answered, “but I know not more.”
Aranel relaxed. Her father was alive! She smiled at Kirsty who returned it.
“He’s gone to see King Huor,” explained Aranel, for the benefit of the less well-informed Kirsty. King of us, the Wood Elves. Our king.”
“Good,” said Kirsty, for want of anything better to say.
“King Huor will know what to do,” Aranel explained further. “He’s probably mobilised all the warriors in the Nosse to look for the perpetrators in the destruction of Tanquelameir. Father will be safe there. King Huor will protect him. Prince Amras?”
“He is returning to the T’Quel, to take command there. King Huor has doubled the warrior numbers guarding the T’Quel. He does not want any more out-worlders coming through.”
“And these gryphwens Aranel was talking about?” asked Kirsty nervously. She didn’t like what she had heard about the gryphwens and didn’t want to meet any of these creatures on their journey to this Ndorenisgiathatch.
“They have gone. No unicorn has seen them in the sky these three days past,” Ursulaine answered in her whinnying voice. She appeared surprised that this oddly clothed out-worlder knew of such creatures.
Kirsty expelled a breath filled to the brim with relief and Aranel shot her an amused glance.
“Then we’d better get started,” she said, turning and walking over to where her rucksack was lying on the ground and beginning to pile her meagre possessions back into it.”
“The sooner we leave, the sooner we shall get there,” agreed Aranel, as she began to gather together her own.
“Wait!” commanded Urieline. “My sister and I. We need to eat. Just a little.” She regarded the flowers with longing.
Ursulaine neighed and swished her tail. There were still some blossoms carpeting the forest floor and they were a particular favourite of hers as well.
Aranel shrugged and sat down on a fallen log. Kirsty sat down beside her, reflecting as she looked round, that they wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.
* * * * *
The Tathar woke with a start. There was another breach in the T’Quel, and so soon after the last one.
He paused, every sense alert. Not a breach, a punch! Someone had deliberately punched a hole in the fabric of the T’Quel ... or several someones … it would take more than one old man to seal it completely …
* * * * *
Far away, on his island stronghold, Wielder Crucius was smiling a smile of grim satisfaction as he listened to the news Ruac, leader of the Morityaro, had brought him from the king.
* * * * *
“Aranel? May I ask you something while we wait?”
“I hope its something I can answer. What is it?”
“I do hope you don’t mind,” Kirsty’s voice was diffident and anxious. “But I wondered if you would tell me something about Father.”
Aranel had been expecting the question. In fact, she was wondering why it had taken her so long to ask, there had been plenty of opportunity as they waited.
“I don’t know him at all,” Kirsty explained. “I thought he was dead and Mum never talked about him.”
“And now he’s very much alive,”
“Me too,” said Kirsty fervently. Sh
e placed a hand on Aranel’s shoulder.
“So what do you want to know?” She was biting her lip, a trait Kirsty was starting to recognise as an indication of nervousness behind her composed exterior. It was odd, she thought, to see one of her own mannerisms mirrored by Aranel.
“I’m sure Father is fine. I’m sure he got to Prince Huor’s place safely. About Father, anything, everything?”
Aranel laughed although the laugh was rather forced. “Everything would take too long, but I’ll try.”
Kirsty glanced over to the unicorns. They were busily eating what remained of the flowers in the immediate vicinity so she settled down to listen; they would be here a while.
“Some elves think of him as hard and unfeeling, my shield partner Enelya for instance.”
Kirsty nodded. Aranel had told her about Enelya. “He is a lord, with a position to maintain. I never met any people of the nobility in my world. Mum and I are ordinary people and we don’t move in such exalted circles but I’m sure the face they show in public isn’t at all like what they are underneath.”
“You understand.”
“Plain common sense. So what’s he like inside? Who is the real Lord Arovan?”
“He is kind,” answered Aranel, “but sort of distant and sad on occasion. I’ve often wondered why. I don’t think he really got over the death of my mother.”
“He met my Mum,” countered Kirsty. “She never mentioned any sadness, at least not to me. Actually she didn’t talk about him much at all but I did get the impression that they were happy.”
“Did they get married?”
“I don’t know. I never asked. Does it matter?”
“Not to me, blood ties are what’s important here.”
“Do children born out of wedlock have the same rights?”
“What does ‘out of wedlock’ mean?’
“Never mind. If you don’t know then it’s obviously not important. But you said he’s married again? I’ve heard you mention your little sisters.”
“He got married the summer before last. My stepmother’s first husband died. The sisters I’m talking about are really my stepsisters.”
“Do Father and your stepmother love each other?”
“I don’t think so, not deep down. Actually,” Aranel continued in a rush, “I believe they were both lonely and that was the main reason they decided to marry. They must at least be fond of each other. I know they knew each other as younglings. Perhaps that’s why they got married.”
Kirsty felt much better. She had always believed her parents had loved each other. The few times Marian Douglas had talked about her father, her face had lit up and her voice had come alive. It would have been a kind of betrayal somehow if her father had married later for love, knowing her mother was alive, as if he hadn’t cared.
It was because he was lonely, she reasoned, and thought he would never see Mum again. She understood and could cope with the knowledge.
“As well as being kind,” Aranel interrupted Kirsty’s thoughts, “I’ve always felt secrecy from him, of a dark sombre kind being kept from me.”
“He was,” Kirsty pointed out.
“I know that now. He used to play with me when I was little, when he was around – he was often away. When he came back he would look tired and strained. He used to say that only I could cheer him up.” She laughed. “He would tell me stories of imaginary worlds and imaginary creatures. I remember one creature he described very well, he called it a stag and it had the most wonderful horns on his head, horns like branches.”
“Not imaginary. Fact.”
“Father said they were beautiful, noble creatures. I’d like to see one.”
“You might just get the chance you know. We’ve got these two rings, we can travel to my world any time to see one; from here to there and back.”
“That’s what Father’s message said,” said Aranel, frowning.
“Our using them to do just that will be part of all this,” said Kirsty.
“You sound very positive.”
“I am.”
* * * * *
Aranel, Kirsty and the two unicorns had decided to take the little-travelled route that hugged the base of the mountains. Ursulaine had told them there was a trackway that went almost the whole length. It was seldom used because it was liable to flooding and King Huor’s father had built a more substantial one to the south, away from the uneven mountainous ground. They shouldn’t, the unicorn had said, meet anyone at all especially as winter was fast approaching with the rain that would come with it.
The path remained on the northern bank of the River Tarquel until it reached the point where the river egressed from the mountains en route to the sea. There was a bridge there, she told them, that crossed a gorge. The path then went due south, through the eastern part of the lands of the Wood Elves and on into the lands of the Land Elves. Once they had crossed the bridge the plan was to travel through the forest in a south-easterly direction, towards the town of Sillulion. They would stop there or in one of the villages that dotted the country around the town. Once they had filled their bags with provisions for the rest of their journey they would continue, veering more to the east, until they reached the forests that bordered the area just to the west of the Land of the Dragons, Ndorenisgiathatch.
They were hopeful that they would remain unseen.
Aranel had almost forgotten Urieline’s warning in the lodge about her suspicion that some elf had been there before them and the sense of menace she had felt at Nosta before the magic in her ring had swept her down the mountainside and into the mists of the T’Quel.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 15
‘Stars, hide your fires;
Let not light see my black and deep desires.’
(Macbeth – The Scottish Play)
(William Shakespeare (1564-1616))
KING OF EVIL
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. “What news?”
“My agents went to Lord Arovan’s lodge,” the Morityaro leader said. “They found a note left by him for his daughter, Lady Aranel.” He handed it over.
“This is the original?”
“No Sire. My agent copied it and returned it to its hiding place.”
“He hid all traces of him being there?”
“No. Acting under my instructions he made it look as if some elf had been there and had tried to cover the fact.”
The chimeran king’s eyebrow rose.
The Morityaro leader smiled. “He left a clue for them to find.”
“I see,” observed the king, who did see. “I hope it was suitably obscure?”
“Oh yes,” was the Morityaro leader’s fervent answer with a feral grin. “From there, my agent was going to the Fortress at Nosta. I am waiting for his report.”
“Good,” said the king. “Very good indeed. Now wait outside if you please. I wish to read this in private. I’ll call when I require your presence again.”
The Morityaro leader backed out of the antechamber, well pleased with himself. His royal employer appeared pleased too, and that was good for business. Perhaps he would offer a bonus, but this elf king was not noted for his open-handedness. He would go and visit Wielder Crucius first thing in the morning and ask him how much longer he would be required to spend in the company of his royal majesty. Surely it couldn’t be for much longer. He was growing weary of the subterfuge.
* * * * *
The king waited until the door had closed behind his employee then sauntered over to the window where he stood for a moment, pondering the import of what the Morityaro leader had told him.
The waves were pounding against the rocks; he could feel the thrumming through the very stones of the castle.
He opened up the folded copy of the note from the lodge. As he read it, he became filled with frustration. This did
n’t tell him nearly enough about what he needed to do next. Angrily, he crushed the note in his fist and flung it to the floor.
It all now depended on finding the other message Lord Arovan had left at Nosta, or did it? How far had Lord Arovan’s research taken him? Where had he hidden the book?
Had the daughter of Lord Arovan really died in the attack on Tanquelameir or had the Morityaro failed in their duty to kill both of them? What if one had survived, or both?
The king, fretting, paced up and down, occasionally looking out to gaze at the rolling seas. He had much to worry about.
He sighed. He would summon Wielder Crucius in the morning. He needed more help and advice.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 16
‘I know how the birds fly, how the fishes swim, how animals run. But there is the Dragon. I cannot tell how it mounts on the winds through the clouds and flies through heaven. Today I have seen the Dragon.’
(Confucius (BC 551- 479))
AMBUSH
Kirsty discovered that riding Ursulaine was more than a moderately difficult skill to learn. She hadn’t quite liked to admit to Aranel that she was not a horsewoman. The elf girl had presumed that Kirsty knew how to ride. How to explain to someone who had never been to her world that horse riding was no longer the preferred mode of travel, that riding had become a sport and a hobby, and a hobby only available to those who could afford it?
Kirsty had ridden a horse once when she had been a little girl. Her mother had taken her to the local stables for a lesson to find out if Kirsty liked it. Kirsty hadn’t. She had fallen off and refused to get on again. The following weekend Marion Douglas had taken Kirsty swimming and she had found that much more to her liking. She had gone to the local swimming pool once or twice a week for the next six years and still went occasionally.
There were no buses, trains or motorcars here in Alfheimr. One rode a unicorn or one walked. If one was a Sky Elf or a Mountain Elf, Aranel had told her, one could fly from one place to another, but Kirsty and Aranel were neither of mountain nor sky.