A Story Of River (5 page)

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Dawn broke, and a breakfast of nuts and
berries already awaited the men who had slept on the ground. Mel and Thinal
were ready to head out, but they waited as the others had their breakfast and
packed up their gear.

“We'll be at Enald by this afternoon,” Mel
said. “That is if we ever get moving again.” Finally, the group was ready to
set out again, and they walked noisily through the woods.

“Why don't we walk a little bit louder!”
Mel shouted, obviously annoyed.

“Who cares about the noise,” Loren said.
“We aren't hunting.”

“No,” Mel replied, “but something may be
hunting us.”

The men began to tread more lightly after
that. They had all seen firsthand the work of these dark creatures, and they
did not enjoy the thought they may be nearby. They traveled all morning and
straight through mid-day to reach Enald as quickly as possible.

Finally, the village came into view, and
the Na'zorans were relieved to see it. It was a small market village at the
border of their country, and the bustle observed from a distance suggested
business as usual. There were no signs of an attack by the monsters.

Upon arrival, Mi'tal was immediately
recognized by a courier. The courier had been drinking at an outdoor tavern and
slammed his mug down on the table. He ran to Mi'tal, wiping his mouth with his
sleeve.

“My lord, Mi'tal,” he hiccupped. “I've
been waiting for you, sir, to bring you a message from the king. He requests
that you and the elves you've employed meet him up north at Duana. You'll be
traveling to the Westerling Vale.”

“The Vale?!” Mel exclaimed angrily.

“The Vale!” Thinal echoed excitedly. “Can
you believe it? I've heard so many stories of the Vale!”

“Bedtime stories,” Mel said sharply. “The
place is a myth. It's the make believe home of Mistonwey, God of the Rivers.” Mel
shook his head and sighed. Convincing Thinal not to go to a land of myth would
be harder than chopping down a tree with his teeth.

“Why the Vale?” Mi'tal asked the courier.

“No idea, sir. I'm just supposed to make
sure you head that way immediately. Horses are available for you at the
livery.”

“Thank you, young man. Please get a
message to the king that we are on our way.” Mi'tal flipped him a coin and
turned to face Mel and Thinal. “I hope this isn't too much of an inconvenience
for you. I know this wasn't what you expected, but there must be some pressing
matter regarding the Vale. Perhaps that's where the creatures are coming from.”

Mel sighed, and the group followed Mi'tal
towards the stables. “We'll be needing horses for six,” he told the stable hand.

“And a pony for my little friend here,”
Byord added and patted Mel on the head. Mel, who had had enough of Byord's
stupidity, quickly turned and punched him in the crotch. Byord doubled over and
moaned.

“That was hardly worth it, was it?” Mi'tal
said. “Six horses, please. We're going to have some lunch, and I will expect
them to be ready when we've finished.”

“Yes sir, my lord,” the stable hand said
and went off to tend the horses.

The six of them headed along the dirt road
to the inn for a quick bite to eat. The food was hot, and the ale was dark.
Thinal asked for a glass of tea and was delighted when it arrived. Mel downed
two mugs of ale and belched at Byord.

Once they had finished eating and
drinking, they headed back to the stables. Six brown horses were saddled and
ready to go.

“To Duana, then,” Loren said as he mounted
one of the horses.

“It's only about a day's ride along the
road from here,” Mi'tal told the elves.

“Let's get going,” Mel said, offering Thinal
a hand as she mounted her horse. He hopped up on the horse next to hers, and
the group set out riding north.

“Twit!” Ulda shouted as he slapped the
young elf across his face. “I asked for skilled sorcerers to join me, not inept
morons!” The young elf cowered in fear. “If you can't learn these skills, then
I'll use you for a test subject.”

“Please, master,” the young elf pleaded.
“I will try harder.”

Ulda took a deep breath and let it out
slowly. Apparently training his special force of Soulbinders would be more
difficult than he had anticipated. Still, he was going to need their help, so
he would have to learn some patience.

“Look, all of you,” he turned to face his
group of twenty-five sorcerers. “You are some of the finest sorcerers of
Ral'nassa. You have joined me for a very special purpose, and you must pay
close attention to these lessons. The slightest lapse in concentration will
cause the binding to fail and destroy the gem. We have very few of them to
waste, so I expect you to work hard.”

He motioned to the skinny young boy
standing at the door. “Slave, sit here on the floor.” He pointed to the center
of the room in front of the sorcerers. “You there,” he said, pointing to a
dark-haired sorcerer in a red robe. “Bind this one. Use his fear.”

The sorcerer stepped forward, his palms
raised facing the boy. With his thumb and forefinger, he held a small purple
gem. A deep purple glow began to materialize on his hands as he adjusted the
angle of the gem. Suddenly, a beam of purple light shot from the sorcerer,
through the gem, and into the boy's chest. The boy screamed with fright and was
slowly lifted off his feet. He threw back his head, and his entire body jerked
wildly. As quickly as it had begun, it was over. The magic faded and the boy
dropped lifelessly to the floor.

The sorcerer held the gem high and
inspected the pale light swirling within it. He turned and held the gem out for
his colleagues to observe.

Ulda applauded the student. “Well done!
That is exactly the process I am trying to teach you. The next step is using
this essence to power other enchantments.”

He walked to the door, opened it, and
called to someone outside. A few moments later, a cage containing a large
spotted wildcat was wheeled in. Its yellow eyes scanned the elves present in
the room.

“I'm sure you all recognize one of
Ral'nassa's beautiful wildcats. I've had enough brought over for each of you.
Using a human consciousness to power the enchantment, you can turn this savage
beast into a most impressive mount. They are sturdy, swift, and will fight
fiercely on your behalf. I will demonstrate.”

Ulda went behind the caged animal and
plucked a few hairs from its tail. The cat swatted and hissed at the sorcerer.
A smile spread across Ulda's face as he inspected the hairs closely.

“Shed hairs do not work as well since they
rarely contain a living cell. Plucked hairs work quite nicely for this next
step. Follow me.” He led his students to the large metal table with the orb at
the center. As he touched his hand to the orb, it began to spin. Gently, he
placed the hairs inside.

“Your gem, master Soulbinder,” Ulda said
as he extended his hand. The sorcerer in red quickly handed over the filled
gem. Ulda placed the gem inside the orb and placed both hands just above it as
a purple glow filled the sphere. In a blinding flash of light, the gem burst,
and the light shot out into Ulda's fingertips. He turned towards the cat and
fired the magic towards it, hitting it full in the face.

“This cat is now yours, Soulbinder,” Ulda
said, smiling proudly at his student.

The students stood in awe of this new
magic. It was unlike anything they had seen before. Such power was unheard of
using the magic they were taught at the college.

The red-robed sorcerer walked boldly up to
the caged wildcat and released the latch on its door. The cat walked out calmly
and licked his hand. Purring softly, it proceeded to rub its face all over the
laughing elf.

“Marvelous,” he said. “Simply, marvelous.”
He stroked the cat's head and neck as it stretched and purred.

“The rest of you must practice until you
have mastered the binding. Later, I will show you how to combine the essence of
a beast with the essence of a man, creating a new creature in the process. For
now, practice on the slaves I've provided, and try not to waste them. I don't
have many disposable citizens yet. Not until we've taken Na'zora.”

Ulda strode out of the room leaving his
pupils behind to master this new art. He was certain they would pick it up
quickly. They were eager to learn and to succeed.

The stone corridor echoed with his
footsteps as he headed towards his throne room. Tapestries had been hung by his
command along all the walls. They featured colors from all the schools of magic
except for white. Ulda did not care for the healing arts. They were a waste of
his valuable time. Mystical bindings had always been his strong suit, and he
was pleased to be bringing them to a whole new level.

The servants within bowed low as he
entered the throne room. Ignoring them, he perched himself upon the dark blue
cushion which had been crafted to mold to his body. He
propped
his feet upon a low stool and let his arms dangle over the sides of his throne.

Tu'vad entered, stood before the throne,
and bowed.

“How are the mines coming along?” Ulda
asked.

“Nicely, your majesty,” Tu'vad replied.
“Miners are working around the clock in two shifts. They are finding some
larger gems than before, but no very large stones have been found just yet. We
will continue working.”

“Very well,” Ulda said, bored with the news.
If he wanted to create stronger enchantments, he would need larger gems.
Waiting drove him mad, but there wasn't much else he could do. He trusted that
Tu'vad was pushing the miners as hard as possible without killing them.
Disgusting creatures that they were, Ulda needed their labor. At least he
didn't have to look at them often.

“You may go, Tu'vad,” Ulda said, waving
his hand. “Send General Fru in. We need to discuss future plans.”

“Right away, highness,” Tu'vad bowed and
took three steps backwards before leaving the room.

Ulda sat idly staring up at the ceiling,
his fingers interlaced across his chest. Training his students this morning had
been exhausting work. They were all masters of arcane knowledge, but they
lacked discipline. They were arrogant and set in their ways despite being
rather young. Still, they were eager to learn what he could teach them.
Unlimited power was quite a tantalizing lure for a young sorcerer. Naturally,
he would not teach them everything. Should one of them try to overpower him, he
would need the few tricks he was holding back. He would not be overthrown.

Finally, General Fru arrived in the throne
room and bowed.

“Ah, General,” Ulda said, sitting up in
his seat. “We need to discuss plans for our future invasion of Na'zora. My
students are learning quickly and will soon be able to create more of our
wolf-man hybrids. We're going to need Na'zora's supply of souls if we are ever
to take over Ral'nassa. We should also consider attacking those pesky Wild
Elves. I can't imagine their essences being much more difficult to bind than a
human. Enlightened Elves, however, are going to prove a much greater
challenge.”

“The weaponsmiths are working overtime to
create the finest swords and armor possible for our troops. Will your Soulbinders
be able to place enchantments on the blades, or will we need a rune carver?”

“Enchanting a weapon is a mere trifle,”
Ulda said. “Minor ones can be done with only the essence of an animal. Rune
carving is well and good, but the enchantments created using a soul are much
stronger and more efficient. Have you appointed anyone to work with the
spiderlings yet?”

“Yes, sir,” Fru replied. “They will be
grown in a few days and ready for your use.”

“Excellent. I'm most excited to see this
new hybrid,” Ulda said. “My Soulbinders should be up to the task by then.”

“Is there anything else you need from me,
sire?” Fru asked.

“Not at this time. You may go.”

General Fru bowed and left the room. Ulda
relaxed back into his chair and sighed. Things were coming along nicely. Within
a year or two, he could be the king of all Nōl'Deron. The thought brought
a smile to his face as he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

“Your highness, I beg you,” Magister Utric
pleaded. “I know I am old and will only be in the way, but I must accompany
you. If indeed these elves still live in the Vale, I must document them. There
are so many things we might learn from them.”

“This is not a scholarly mission,
Magister,” Aelryk replied. “We will be traveling through some dangerous areas,
and I cannot guarantee anyone's safety. We do not yet know what we are dealing
with.”

The pain in the old magister's eyes was
obvious. His entire life had been dedicated to studying the histories of
Nōl'Deron, and before him was a chance to seek out the land's original
occupants. He could learn so much and write it down for future generations. No,
it was too important a task to let this chance slip away.

“Your majesty, I must insist. If I die,
then I die. At least let me try.”

King Aelryk considered the matter
sincerely. He did not like the idea of an elderly man coming along. He would
not be useful if they were attacked, and he would lose a valued member of his
court should tragedy befall him. The look in the old man's gray eyes spoke
clearly. This would be a dream come true for him.

“Very well, Magister. I will allow you to
accompany us.”

“Oh, thank you, your majesty. Thank you.”

“You must be ready to leave in two hours
time. Do not bring any more than you need. We must travel light and with haste.”

Magister Utric bowed and hurried out the
door with his apprentice.

Aelryk drew his sword from its scabbard
and observed it. The broad blade was etched with intricate elven runes that sparkled
in the light like diamonds. Yori Half-Elven, his court blacksmith and friend,
had done exquisite work on this sword. Aelryk had learned much from Yori,
including tolerance. Growing up in a time when elves were an enemy had not made
their friendship easy. Nonetheless, they had become very close friends in their
youth.

He re-sheathed his sword and motioned for
the page to help him on with his armor. Though he would be riding through his own
kingdom for a few days, he did not want to give the appearance that all was
well. His subjects would see him dressed for war, and they would know he was
fighting on their behalf.

With him would travel Magister Utric,
Court Mage Willdor, General Morek and a company of guards. He hoped that
Mi'tal's group had received his message and would be waiting for him at Duana.
With any luck, he had at least one Wild Elf scout with him who could be
invaluable on this journey. Perhaps Wild Elves knew more about the Westerling
Elves and would be willing to share the information. If not, the scout would
still be a valuable asset in avoiding the monsters of the woods.

Aelryk stepped outside in the sun and
sniffed the air. Orzi was right about the day's weather. He had picked a
perfect day to set out. Hopefully, his other prophecies would turn out to be
correct as well.

The king headed towards the armory where
Yori was busy carving runes into chamfrons for the horses. He stood with his
shoulders stooped over his workbench and meticulously chiseled at the steel.
Hearing footsteps approach, he looked up and saw the king. He sat down the
chisel and wiped his hands on the cloth hanging from his belt.

Aelryk smiled at the sight of his friend.
He was average height with green eyes and light hair. As always, he wore a
headband to hide the tips of his pointed ears.

“Good morning, Yori,” Aelryk said,
extending his hand.

“My lord,” Yori replied, nodding and
grasping the king's hand. “I'm nearly finished here. These runes will help the
horses stay calm and give them courage. Without them, I can't imagine how the
horses might react to the sight of those monsters.”

“Thank you, my friend. I know you and your
apprentices have been working very hard to complete this armor in time.” Aelryk
went silent for a moment. “Perhaps you could check over my sword and make sure
everything is in order.” He drew the sword and handed it to Yori. “Perhaps the
rune etchings have worn a bit.”

Yori took the sword, his brow wrinkling.
Aelryk was well aware that elven runes did not wear over time. He was troubled
but trying not to show it. Yori inspected the sword before taking it to the
grindstone to sharpen its edge. Once he was satisfied with its sharpness, he
began polishing the sword, occasionally glancing back at his friend. Silently,
Aelryk watched Yori work.

“It's perfect, my king,” Yori said as he
handed the sword back to him.

Taking the sword, Aelryk said, “I thank
you again, my friend. I also have a question for you.”

Yori waited for the king to speak.

“You spent time learning from the Wild
Elves and also from Enlightened Elves. Tell me, do you know anything of the
Westerling Elves or of the Vale where they live? Do they even exist?”

“I wish I could help you,” Yori said
sincerely. “I know nothing of them. All I have heard are old fairy tales. No
one has ever mentioned to me that they might actually exist.”

Aelryk took a deep breath and said, “I was
afraid you would say that. I wonder if I'm riding on a fool's errand.” He shook
his head.

“I do believe they once existed,” Yori
offered. “The stories say they are the First Ones. They came before all other
elves, men, and dwarves. I can't see such a people going off into oblivion. I
think they still exist somewhere in this world. That's truly what I believe if that
helps you at all, my friend.”

“It does help. I'll leave you to finish
your work.” Aelryk shook his friend's hand once again.

As he left the armory, his mind was still
uneasy. Perhaps Yori was justified in his beliefs and perhaps not. He only
wished he had more solid evidence before he set out. If this was indeed an
error, he would be leaving his people unattended for nothing.

A few blocks down the stone path were the
king's stables. The troops who would accompany him were already gathered and
preparing their horses. His wife Lisalla and son Rykon were making their way
towards him. They would want to see him off on his journey.

He walked past the stables to meet his
wife. Her tall, slender form was accentuated by the dark blue gown she wore.
Her blonde ringlets rested lazily on her breast. Taking both of her hands in
his, he kissed her softly on each cheek.

“My queen,” he said.

“My lord,” she replied. “Rykon and I were
just coming to wish you good journey.”

“We're still waiting for Mage Willdor and
Magister Utric to arrive. I have a little time if you would like to join me for
a drink.”

“I'd be delighted,” she said, and they
headed for the market area together.

Rykon, who had been distracted by a smile
from a pretty young maid, followed a short distance behind. He was a handsome
youth and often caught the eye of the young ladies in town. At only sixteen, he
was already as tall as his father and had the same dark hair and eyes.

The three of them took a seat near the inn
and called for the serving girl to bring them each some wine. The young girl
hurried away and reappeared almost instantly bearing three goblets. She placed
the drinks in front of the royal family and then curtsied, her ample bosom
leaning in towards Rykon. The view was not lost on him, and he gave an
approving smile.

“How long will you be away, father,” he
asked.

“A few weeks at the least,” Aelryk
answered. “The maps are quite old, but if they are correct, the journey to the
Vale will take at least a week on horseback. Then there is the matter of
crossing a river of unknown depth and width.”

“But the prophecy isn't specific,” Lisalla
said. “You may find whatever it is you need without crossing the river.”

“It's possible,” Aelryk said, “but the
near bank is not likely a land of spring.”

“Do you think you'll find elves there?”
Rykon asked, sipping at his wine.

“I don't know what we'll find there,” he
replied. “Perhaps if they are still around they can tell me how to bring a
river back with me.”

“Orzi has said that the prophecy will find
a way,” Lisalla said, laying her hand on top of his. “An answer will be
revealed to you at the right time. I'm sure of it.” She leaned in and kissed
his forehead.

“Shall we head back to the stables? The
others are most likely waiting for me by now.” Aelryk rose and laid a few coins
on the table.

The trio headed back to the stable where
the rest of the party was indeed waiting for the king. The men bowed their
heads as he approached.

“Is everything in order?” he asked General
Morek.

“Yes, my lord,” Morek replied. “Everything
is prepared.”

“Let's get to it then,” Aelryk commanded.

He turned to his wife and kissed her lips.
Then, he turned to his son and hugged him.

“Safe journey, father,” Rykon said.

“Be well, husband,” Lisalla said with
tears in her eyes. She had seen him off on journeys before, but she was always
sad to see him go.

Without a word, Aelryk mounted his horse.
He raised his hand in a gesture of farewell to his family and then headed to
the road with his companions following closely behind.