Armies of the Silver Mage (20 page)

In the company of kings and warriors, Fennic found himself thinking, if only my parents might see me now. Who would ever believe it?

Their nerves were on edge, butterflies knotting their stomachs, by the time the royal page arrived to escort them to the grand dining hall. Jin, Blaron and Hallis were all dressed in their formal uniforms, complete with ornamental sabers at the right hip. Impressive as they were, Norgen and the boys held their own. The Dwarf wore a jeweled vest with black breeks and newly made boots tipped in silver. He had a gemstone band around the middle of his beard. Dark blue was Delin’s color, from his silk shirt to his pants with yellow stripes running down the out seam. Fennic was in similar garb, though his was of forest green and lacking the stripes.

Hallis made the comment of them looking like little princes and both blushed. Murmurs spread through the crowds. Some swore they were a stately delegation come to aid in the war. Minor lords and ladies lined the gilded halls of the castle in all forms of finery and pretty. Noble born knights flanked the main doors, swords drawn and raised in tribute to the passing heroes. They boys walked wide eyed in amazement.

Applause greeted them. Hallis waved back at the throngs of onlookers and followed the page to the head table. He hadn’t expected to sit so close to the king. All of the tables were draped in gold trimmed white clothes. Baskets of fresh bread were placed every two seats. There were crystal glasses filled with fine wines and carefully crafted ceramic plates and Elf made silverware. A roaring fire behind the head table warmed the hall. Huge candlelit chandeliers hung from the ceiling in a great star pattern.

“All this is for us?” Fennic asked the page.

The boy nodded. “In your names, yes. It has been a long time since the king had the cause to celebrate this way. He should be in splendid spirits.”

Delin asked, “What do you say to a king?”

“Same as any other man just say sire a lot,” Norgen said.

The arriving crowds cut the conversation short as the hall quickly filled. Men and women took their seats without missing a word. Fennic found most of them rude and obnoxious, unlike folk back home. He guessed they were too accustomed to not having to do anything for themselves. Either way, Fennic decided he wanted nothing to do with any of them.

The truth was he hadn’t been comfortable since their stay in Alloenis. He was no judge of civilization or the intricate trappings of society, but he knew what he didn’t care for. Men were too willing to cheat and steal from each other. Thieves and con artists were as common as cows and sheep back home. He hoped the king was a better man than the representation of his court. Even the knights were purely for display. They were the remnants of the old ducal system not used in hundreds of years. Not since the Mage War. Fennic didn’t know it, but knights had fought or held a position of military power since the rise of Maelor. They were allowed to hold their titles out of respect and a family history of service to the land.

“My lords and ladies, please take your seats. His highness will be arriving shortly,” an old man in royal livery announced.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Fennic asked Norgen.

The Dwarf, already pulling his chair closer to the table, said, “I find it drawn out and unnecessary. Give me the quiet fire in a broken down inn and I’ll not complain.”

“He has a point,” Jin said. “It’s been a long time since I had to wear this uniform. The collar is chaffing me!”

Hallis said, “Settle down. Every nobleman in Paedwyn is watching.”

“Can we just go back to the barracks and be soldiers again?”

All too soon, Hallis thought.

Every chair and table in the hall was filled. The people were a rainbow of colors and jewels. Chatter was quiet to a low roar, much to Norgen’s relief. Platters of vegetables and greens were brought out before the main course. Roast elk and boar, pheasants and duck came next, filling the hall with a hearty aroma.

“Sure makes all those cold meals in the rain and snow worth it, doesn’t it?” Jin asked.

“Actually it makes me wonder why I wanted to leave home,” Delin answered.

Fennic kept his mouth shut.

Again rang the horn and the hall fell silent.

“The sovereign ruler of the lands and peoples of Averon. King Maelor the First.”

The audience rose as one, facing the center of the hall to watch Maelor enter. Royal guardsmen pushed the stained wooden doors open and marched to the head table. Maelor wasted no time in following. He was as hungry as the rest and anxious to meet the band of heroes. The crown of Averon sat atop his head for one of those few times he needed it. He wore dark green trousers and a frost white shirt. His demeanor and presence suggested royalty and natural leadership. His boots echoed across the marble floor as he made his way to his place.

A young boy pulled his chair back and Maelor offered him a warm smile.

“Honored guests, nobles, and dear friends. I thank you for gracing this hall tonight.

Dark times have fallen upon us and the sun still shines. Sitting with me tonight are the ones responsible for destroying two companies of Goblins and a Gnaal ravaging our lands. Their selfless service and loyalty to the throne have ensured to me that we will not fall under evil’s spell. Their duty reflects great credit upon themselves and the name of all we stand for. At this time I wish to award them all with the Order of Turnin.”

Those gathered let out a collective gasp. Years had passed since the last time the highest military award in the land was passed out. Named for the first king of Averon, the Order of Turnin signified the ultimate heroism. Hallis felt his mouth drop open.

Decorated all, the feast began. Conversations started and stopped between mouthfuls of food. Maelor left an hour later and again all rose until the doors closed behind him. It didn’t take long before Hallis and company decided to follow his lead.

The same page returned and told them, “Gentlemen, King Maelor wishes you join him in his private study once you’ve finished. I shall await you outside the door.” He bowed and stepped away.

“Will wonders never cease,” Jin exclaimed.

Blaron rubbed his bloated stomach. “I’d rather join the men if it’s all the same to you, Sergeant.”

“Go ahead. I think the five of us will be more than enough to keep his majesty occupied,” Hallis consented. “Looks like you have to wear your uniform a while longer, Jin.”

True to his word, the page bowed again and led them through an impossible maze of hallways and corridors. Getting lost proved a simple task. Statues on marble pedestals lined the walls between doors and paintings. Hallis explained some of the work to them, though history was never his strong suit. He was a simple man from a small farming community, much like Fennic and Delin. Hard times led him to the army and there he remained. Come to think of it, farming was never the life for him.

“His majesty will see you now,” the king’s chamberlain said once they arrived to a pair of massive marble doors. He quickly guided them in to the study where Maelor patiently read from a high back chair close to the fire.

Those pale blue eyes settled on his heroes with a measure of warmth.

“My father built this kingdom off of lies and deceit. He stole it from his brother who was a wicked man with a fell heart. It took time to turn Averon into a respected land and now I am her steward. Am I to be the last of my line? Sometimes I wonder if all I’ve managed to do was get a lot of people killed,” he told them.

“Sire, our friends are not dying for no reason,” Hallis said in a low voice.

“I wish that were true. I fear the Silver Mage is too powerful to be stopped.”

“Tonight you praised us for killing one of the demons of legend,” Norgen said in a stern voice. “If this was possible, so is defeating the dark mage. I am Norgen of Breilnor. My lord wishes to send aid based on my recommendations. I have seen the best and worst of Man in the past and wanted no part of your wars. These two boys showed me the error of my thinking. They put their lives on the line without any thought of themselves. They are the reason you will prevail.”

Maelor eyed the Dwarf carefully, soaking up every word. Finally he said, “there is a tale here for the telling and I would hear all of it. Leave no detail out.”

The story lasted well over two hours and Maelor learned much. He felt hope rising with the telling and even dared to chance a peek at victory. When the last man fell silent, Maelor went to a well crafted wooden cabinet and brought out two large bottles of dark red wine. Pouring them each a hearty glass, he toasted them all.

“To the future.”

“The future,” they echoed.

“I sometimes wish I weren’t king,” he admitted after a moment of silence. “I know I was born to be king, but I was never asked what I wanted from life. Life is unfair that way. My father was a great man, yet I never knew him as a father.” He turned to look at the boys. “I envy you. You’ve lived a real childhood and spent years with friends and family, played in the forests of your youth. All this is but a dream to me. Perhaps one day I will find a wife and have children to live my life through.

“When this war is done and Gren lies in defeat, I will journey to this little village of yours. I wish to see how life is meant to be lived. But until then, we must focus on the war. Fennic Attleford, this sword of yours bears great interest. If it’s what I’m thinking, you may well be the salvation of the land. Is it truly the star silver sword of legend?”

Fennic swallowed hard. “So I’ve been told, sire. I was chosen by Phaelor and warned by Old Man Wiffe. It appears Fate has decided my life, much as it has done for you.”

“I cannot ask this of you, but I dearly wish that golden sword to march with army and lend hope. I fancy even the dark mage may turn away from its power,” Maelor quietly admitted. “The sight alone would do much for morale.”

“As I said earlier, sire, Phaelor decides when and where it must be. I will join the fight if it wants me too,” Fennic said.

Maelor rose, feeling unexplainably rejuvenated. He stood tall and proud. The mid of night was already past and he had much to think on before the sun rose. Bidding them all a good night, Maelor closed the door to his study and stared out the window overlooking his sleeping kingdom. He only wished he knew what was happening at Gren Mot and if Fynten was still fighting.

TWENTY-SEVEN

League after league of rolling hills and endless plains stretched on day and night until Tarren hadn’t a clue to where she was. They might have been traveling in circles for all she knew. The pony kept a steady pace through the journey, confident in direction and purpose. Sunrise followed sunset. There hadn’t been a storm in over a week but the skies darkened on several occasions. By luck or fate, the ill wind passed them by.

Always there was the pony. He never missed a step or stopped swishing his long tail. He’d stop so she could relieve herself and snatch a bite to eat. She found him considerate to her needs and always willing to listen. Odd as it seemed, Tarren took comfort in the pony. The simple things started to relax her. The way his ears flipped every time she laughed. How he made a light gallop across an open field.

Tarren prided herself on her ability to take care of herself and her family. For what it was worth, few of those skills mattered out here in the wild. None of her independence or social skills was of use this deep in the countryside. She knew in her heart that she’d already have given up and gone home if not for the pony. More often than not she cried herself to sleep.

“I wish I had an idea where we are,” she confided after a light snack of berries and cheese. “Everything looks the same to me. Oh, this would be so much easier if you talked.”

Loneliness was setting in despite her best efforts to keep occupied. There was only so much one could do alone before the nerves frazzled. The more she thought about it, the worse her plan to sweep in and rescue her love sounded.

Tarren reached up and scratched behind the pony’s ear. “Just once I’d like to hear a voice other than my own.”

Those deep brown eyes stared back at her, stirring forgotten emotions. He snorted as if to say that all was going to turn out fine. Trust in me and I’ll make sure no harm befalls you, the pony stared back. For reasons she didn’t understand, and would spend many long nights pondering over the course of her life, Tarren felt her fears dissipate. The sun was high and shining, warming the world. The pony snorted again and nuzzled against her palm. Tarren smiled and packed the meager camp.

She found she wasn’t as sore as she had been. The first week had been so horrible she often had trouble falling asleep and the next morning even worse. Her muscles felt tight and abused every time she opened her eyes. She was sure Gnomes came upon her in her sleep and pounded her with their tiny hammers while she slept. She was finally getting past that and used to the road.

The day went fast, much faster than she liked. Shadows crept back across the world soon enough, turning parts of the landscape into an eerie winter land unsafe for human wanderings. A sharp cracking noise from the nearby tree line made her turn in fright. Moving shadows played with her vision. They taunted her into believing an army of Goblins were closing. The pony kept on without so much as slowing. Once she thought she saw a bear in the forest. It was huge and a dark shimmering black.

The pony eventually came to a stop just past sundown. Again Tarren felt calmed. If there was anything out there capable of doing them harm, she couldn’t tell. The pony stood guard over her until she fell asleep.

Her eyes flew open sometime after midnight. A tiny sliver of light was shining down, adding to the haunting quality she’d grown accustomed to. A quick look around the camp confirmed her fears. She was alone. The pony was nowhere to be seen. That’s when she heard soft voices coming from a clearing not far away. Chill winds danced across the plains and sent shivers down her spine. Tarren gathered her cloak about her and crept closer to the noise. She knew she needed to be careful yet something in the back of her mind reminded her she was safe. Still, Tarren was cautious and careful not to reveal herself lest the voices belong to the enemy. She settled behind the bole of a large beech tree and listened.