by Timothy Bond
"You say you forged a new throwing axe?" Bandefin asked his youngest son.
"Not just one, Father, but a dozen!"
"A dozen? How is that possible?"
"Jadon is very talented at the forge, Father," Volin explained. "He's been working there every time he gets a spare moment. Gorin Forgemaster says he can apprentice in a few years if you allow it."
Jadon looked hopefully at his father.
"We will see," Bandefin said. "You heard your mother earlier. She is adamant you boys will be working with gems."
"But we are horrible, Father," Volin protested. "And Jadon is the worst of all!"
"I know, and I said we will see," Bandefin said again. "It is several years before you will be expected to become apprentices. None of you are even sixty yet."
"Beorn is nearly sixty," Volin replied.
"Nearly, but not yet. Don't try to grow up too soon." Bandefin loved his sons, and as with most Dwarf parents, he was very protective. "Come. Let's go outside and see how well you boys have learned to throw the small axe."
The boys ran off and gathered their weapons as Bandefin sat at the low table and thought about all he heard and saw on his trip to the outside world. If what he heard was correct, there may not be many years of peace left in the world. The Gaerwitch was certain the time was nearing when The Prophecy would be in play. The races would again need to come together to defeat the Darkness. The Wizard Rendil agreed with her, and had sworn Bandefin into service in a secret group charged with the protection of the as-yet to be born, Children of the Prophecy. No one knew exactly who these children would be, or when they would come into the world, but the survival of all depended on their safety.
The Guardians had their first few members, and Bandefin found himself right in the middle of it all. This was happening at a time when his people believed they were successful in their isolation and would never again become involved in the world of Elves and men.
How would Bandefin persuade his people to come out of isolation to aid the Elves and humans in the coming battle? The Dwarves felt that both races betrayed them, and since the disbanding of The Watcher's and the abandonment of the Keep where the races once observed the Dark Wizard Khollaran, there had been little or no contact with the outside world.
Seven
"When you did this, Darius, was there much pain?" Rozlynn questioned the Elven Hunter, her features showing her concern.
"Princess," he replied quietly, "what the Sorceress did to me does not even approach what she plans for you."
The two were sitting in the Bower House, a collection of rooms at the very top of one of the enormous trees that grew in the Elven city of Kalystra. The Princess loved to study her journals here, since very few people would bother her. The gentle swaying of the rooms, from the breezes coming off the lake, made this place very relaxing.
Rozlynn was preparing to undergo a procedure where her Elven features would be changed so that she appeared to be human. Darius went through a similar process decades ago when King Theinial decided to regularly send him out into the world of men to gather information—a spy for the Elves among men.
The magic the sorceress used on Darius was an ancient form of Wiccan magic that only slightly altered his appearance. He lost most of the points on his ears, his high cheekbones were eased a little, and he was able to bulk up more like a human instead of having the slender, lithe body typical of the Elves.
What the Princess would do now, however, was significantly more of a change than what the Elven Hunter went through. Although Darius' appearance would fool the casual observer, he was still obviously an Elf to anyone really paying attention. Since most humans did not believe that Elves even existed—thanks in large part to the Church—this made hiding among humans not really all that difficult. Rozlynn was to undergo changes that would need to pass the closest of scrutiny by her future human husband.
"Will you stay here with me through it all?" she asked the Elven Hunter. Her eyes were slightly misting, and though she would not admit that Darius was in love with her, she did know he was loyal and would do anything she asked.
"There is nowhere else I would be, Princess," he replied, slightly bowing his head.
The Bower House rocked with a motion counter to its swaying from the wind, and this announced the arrival of Drianna.
"I will never understand why you choose to stay up here in the top of this blasted tree!" she proclaimed as she entered the sitting room. "I almost did not come all the way up!"
The sorceress complained every time she made the trip into the treetops, and both Darius and Rozlynn knew this time her complaint was as much to make things seem normal, as it was to express her displeasure.
"Thank you for humoring me and coming up here, Drianna," Rozlynn replied. "Are you ready to proceed with the change?"
"I am ready, Princess," the sorceress said, while taking a seat next to her. "Are you ready?"
Rozlynn looked at Darius standing only a step away and held out her hand for him to hold. She looked over at Drianna. "I will never be ready, but it is time."
Drianna nodded her head and removed a small pouch from her robe. She knelt on the floor and poured out a white powder, spreading it into a circle in front of her. Inside the dusting of powder, she began to draw sigils of power, which she had learned from the Wizard Posh. These were to amplify the Wiccan magic and bind it to the Princess. She drew the runes carefully, having practiced them for weeks. Each one must be perfect. In some places, they overlapped one another to form more complex structures.
At one point, she wiped her hand through the powder, cursed in a language that Darius did not recognize, and dusted the surface again. She started over, drawing one rune after another until finally she was satisfied.
"You must stand in the center of the runes, Princess," she announced. "Step in carefully, and do not disturb the drawings."
"How am I supposed to do that?" she demanded.
"It is a critical part of the process, Roz," she said, using her familiar name for the Princess. "You must step into the center of the drawing and not break any of the runes."
Princess Rozlynn removed her slippers and stood before the circle. She lightly stepped into the center of the drawings on the floor.
"Okay, I'm here."
Drianna turned to the Elven Hunter. "It is time for you to leave us."
"No!" Rozlynn insisted. "Darius will stay." She held out her hand again for him to hold, and he stepped right up to the edge of the circle to take her hand in his.
"I'm not sure this will work, Princess," the sorceress stated her concern. "The Wizard said nothing about having someone hold your hand."
"It must work, Sorceress," she replied, "as I will have Darius by my side through this."
"Very well. It will be as you say."
The breeze seemed to stop blowing as the sorceress began singing softly. The room darkened around the three occupants, as Darius recognized the beginning of the Wiccan spell that Drianna used on him years before. He squeezed the Princess' hand, and she returned the gesture, though she did not take her eyes off the sorceress.
"Keep your feet perfectly still now," Drianna warned. Her song increased in volume and tempo. The words were coming fast and in a language foreign to the Elves. The familiar Wiccan spell forms were now gone, and in their place was a harsh sounding, more powerful form of magic. Waves of energy seemed to pulse upward from the runes in the floor. They started to glow, first light blue, then with tinges of red. They turned orange and yellow, and finally the intensity of the runes was too much to discern any color.
Rozlynn shuddered and squeezed Darius' hand with enough force to cause the Hunter to wince. He held steady. She started to twist in place though her feet were affixed firmly to the floor.
"Don't move your feet!" Drianna warned.
"Arghhhhh!" the Princess finally screamed. She bent over double and released Darius' hand, grasping both sides of her head in pain.
"Stay back!" Dr
ianna warned Darius. "Do NOT touch her now."
The Elven Hunter froze in place, ready to assist his Princess at the first sign of need.
"Arghhhhh!" she screamed again, holding her hands to her face. Tears poured from her eyes and wet her fingers, and still she held her face tightly and did not move her feet.
"It's almost over!" Drianna yelled. "Hang on!"
"Arghhhhh!" she screamed once more, this time falling backward out of the circle. Darius caught her and eased her onto the bed, where she sobbed into the coverlet as she curled into a ball in obvious pain.
"Princess?" he asked, bending down to try to look into her face.
"Please, Darius," Drianna said, taking his arm, "don't push her. It's over now, and she must rest."
Drianna stepped between Darius and Rozlynn, forcing him back. She laid her hands on the Princess' and started to sing softly. Soon, Rozlynn's breathing came more easily and her body relaxed. Drianna covered her up with the silk bedding and pulled away from the bed.
"She will sleep now," Drianna said, showing significant signs of exhaustion herself. As she stumbled a little, she asked, "How am I supposed to climb down from here?"
"Come, Drianna”—Darius took her by the arm—“Rest in the next room until you are strong enough to descend."
"I think I will just sit on the edge of the bed in the next room for a bit," the sorceress said quietly. "I am a little tired."
Drianna collapsed onto the bed and immediately fell into a deep sleep. Darius returned to the Princess and pulled up a chair as close to her bed as he was able. He would sit here until she woke.
The love of his life was now on a path that would take her away from him, forever.
Eight
"Enough already!" King Leondis nearly pushed his butler back into the wardrobe, as the man was showing the King yet another set of clothes for him to approve. Leondis needed something stunning to wear at the Royal Ball being held tonight in the castle.
"Your Majesty," the patient servant quietly insisted. "You must look your best for the ball."
"And why is that, exactly?" the King barked. "I am the one choosing a bride; the bride is not choosing me!"
"Leondis, my King.” Lord Randolf stood in the doorway to the King's private chambers, hardly able to contain himself at his friend's discomfort. "There will be many ladies from the Kingdom here tonight, and all will be thrilled to see you in whatever you wear."
"You see, man!" Leondis nearly shouted at his butler. "I do not need these fancy trappings at all!"
"But, Your Majesty should look the part," Randolf continued, "and since these ladies will be dressed in their finest, you would not want to look the pauper next to them, I am sure."
Randolf smiled but Leondis did not see any humor in the situation.
"Oh, get out of here, Randolf, before I exile you to the Broken Isles!"
"At once, Your Majesty.” Lord Randolf bowed deeply and backed his way out of the doorway.
"Wait a minute!" the King ordered. "Stay and help me choose something to wear!"
"As you wish, Majesty.” Randolf smiled even broader, as he stepped all the way into the room. "I think that blue outfit on the bed is splendid."
"The blue it is then!" Leondis agreed. "Now that wasn't so hard." Looking at his butler, he added, “Why couldn't you have just said that?"
Randolf burst into laughter. "I will leave you two to figure out how to get dressed, and then get down to the ball within the hour. The guests have actually all arrived and are anxiously awaiting your entrance, Your Majesty."
* * *
When King Leondis burst into the Royal Ballroom, the sheer number of people shocked him. Though he had attended hundreds of events in this grand hall when his father was King, none of them compared to the magnitude of this one.
"Is everyone in the Kingdom now jammed into my ballroom?" he demanded of Minister Nolan, who was standing stoically by the entrance.
"No, Your Majesty," the minister replied, nonplussed, his features showing nothing out of the ordinary. "These would be only the ladies on Lord Randolf's list, along with their parents or guardians. There are a few servants here as well from the more affluent households. I could not expect them to be here without—"
"Oh, never mind, Nolan. Where is Randolf?"
"He is standing by the doors to the garden, Your Majesty, with one of his guests."
The King nearly stormed across the ballroom on a direct heading to Randolf. He was standing with a man that Leondis should know, but one he could not quite name. Several fathers in the room attempted to intercept him and present their daughters, but the King was set on his target.
"Randolf!" Leondis yelled when he was halfway there. The room quieted as those assembled realized the King had entered, though the musicians continued to play on the small stage opposite the elevated throne in the center of the room.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Lord Randolf replied, looking only slightly amused.
"You call this blue outfit suitable for a King?" He spun around, and the short tail on his surcoat flapped like the wings of some great shorebird.
"I assure you, Majesty," he replied. "That style is all the rage in the Southern Free Cities. The ladies will adore your fashion sense."
"Ugh!" Leondis grunted. He grabbed a mug of ale from the tray being balanced by a nearby servant and nearly drained it in one pass. "Well, let's get on with this then."
"My King," Lord Randolf said formally. "I have a program all arranged, and it starts with a receiving line where you will greet your guests, then with dinner, and afterward, some light dancing so you may get to know some of the ladies a little better before the evening ends. This way, Sire."
Leondis allowed Randi to lead him to the head of the receiving line. The man with Randolf did not follow but stayed by the garden entrance, seemingly uninterested in the proceedings.
The ladies and their patrons passed by the King one by one, making introductions. By the time the line was pared down by half, Leondis was clearly bored and no longer wanted anything to do with this event.
"Must we continue, Randolf?" He nearly begged his matchmaker to end the evening early.
"Yes, we must, Your Highness. These are the most eligible ladies in the Kingdom, and you must spend some time getting to know them so you may choose a future Queen."
"Can't you just pick one for me and get it over with?" the exasperated King asked, as he accepted the dainty hand of a sweet maiden who appeared to be ready to swoon right in front of the King.
"We agreed that you would choose your own Queen, Sire. My task was to assemble the eligible maidens who best fit the role, and you would take it from there."
"Yes, but I expected a small handful of women, not an entire room full of them! I need to step out for some air."
He dropped the hand of the maiden before him, without so much as looking at her, and strode to the doors to the garden. The man who was standing with Randolf earlier was nowhere to be seen, but a servant at the door was holding a tray of ale. Leondis scooped a mug off the tray on his way past.
"Duke Haren," the King said to a man standing just outside the doors. "Are you here to press your daughter on me as well?"
"Good evening, Your Highness," the Duke greeted the King, with a twinkle in his eye. "As much as I think my daughter would make a wonderful Queen, alas, she is only six weeks of age, and that rascal Lord Randolf did not feel she qualified to be part of your ball this evening."
It took Leondis a moment before he realized that the Duke was joking, but when he did, his response was quite genuine. "I believe, Duke, you may be the only noble in the Kingdom that is not actively trying to get me to marry his daughter, at six weeks of age or not!"
The two men laughed and turned their backs on the doors, gazing out across the grand gardens. They were still in full bloom, though the season was late, thanks in large part to the underground hot springs that were piped beneath the flowering beds and fruiting trees.
"I do enjoy y
our garden, Your Majesty," Duke Haren said quietly. "Your Father's architect was quite brilliant to situate the castle here and use the natural heat from the earth not just to warm the castle and create the magnificent city baths, but to also create this enchanting garden. I only wish my wife were here with me to enjoy it."
"Where is that lovely bride of yours, Duke?" Leondis asked in earnest.
"She is not fully recovered after the birth of our daughter, I am afraid. My physician has yet to pronounce her fit to travel. She insisted that I attend the selection of your Queen, however, and when she insists, well, you will learn someday who runs the castle between man and wife."
"I am afraid you are right there," Leondis laughed, taking a deep pull on his ale. "My good friend Randolf says that I need a woman to keep me in line and to run my Kingdom when I'm too busy to pay attention!"
"A Queen is what the Kingdom needs, Your Majesty, if you will excuse my boldness. A Queen and an Heir or two will ease the minds of the people. Should any King die without an Heir, his Kingdom would be thrown into chaos and possibly be open for attack from outside."
"You mean from the Free Cities?" Leondis asked.
"I understand from my agents that Al-Ashal has grown significantly in the last decade, and that they are beginning to build quite an army. They say it is simply for defense against the savages from the deep south across the Great Desert. With a sizable army, they may set their sights north, given the right circumstances."
"How would you like to move to Solenta and be my military advisor, Duke Haren?"
"Ha, now that would be quite difficult, I am afraid, Your Majesty. You see, my wife has made it very clear to me that my role in the Kingdom is as Steward of Northcastle. There I will stay until I draw my last breath. You remember what I said about who is really in charge!"
"Indeed, Duke, indeed."