Forever Knight (The Champion Chronicles Book 3) (7 page)

“And what if I am here and you are not?” Janari asked.

“Anchor for one full day.  If I have not arrived, then you must assume the worst.  You will then return home and report to the king that I have failed my mission.”

“And then what?”

“And then the king will decide whether or not we go to war with mankind.”

The crew untied one of the two small boats that were lashed to the aft hull just above the water line.  Using a roughly tied rope ladder, Glaerion climbed down to the boat.  With a friendly wave to the captain and crew, Glaerion took the oars and started pulling himself away from the ship and towards shore.

His shoulders and arms quickly became sore.  He was a strong elf, probably stronger than most, but he was not used to the hard exercise of rowing.  Several times on his way to shore, he paused to rest.  Each time, he turned to make sure that he was heading in the right direction.  Rowing with his back to his destination seemed odd, but he quickly realized that the rowing action was more powerful from that direction.

Although there was a long pier that stretched out into the water, there was still a small beach along the shore where he could land his skiff.  He was able to pull his skiff up to the sand and leap out and onto the beach without getting his feet wet.  Then he pulled the skiff off the beach and into a flatter area that was matted with dead weeds.  Taking a minute to catch his breath, he looked back at the ship as it began sailing away to search for fresh water for their return trip.

An odd feeling swept over him.  He was alone in a strange land and that made him feel both dread and excitement at the same time.  Having no idea what was going to happen to him next gave him a euphoric wave of excitement.  But he was alone.  If something happened to Captain Janari and his ship, then he would be stuck here for the rest of his life.  Even if he could convince a human to take him back home, he would have no idea where to go, other than south.  Being alone was not the worst feeling he’d ever felt.  In fact, he completed his journeys back home alone.  But back then he had always known where he was and could always find his way back.

He turned away from the water.  Just past the beach there was about a hundred feet of tamped weeds and past that was the city.  He had no idea what the name of the city was or even if there was a king here, but he trusted the star in the sky to guide him to the right place, so he knew he was where he was supposed to be.

Some of the buildings were stone, which he found surprisingly well made for being constructed by men.  But most of the other buildings were simply wood structures stacked close together.  It was clearly a busy city as many people were on the streets.  Conscious of his unique appearance, especially his ears, he had pulled his cloak’s hood over his head.  He was still taller and thinner than the men and women that he saw, but he was sure he didn’t look too out of place.

The moment he stepped from the rough weeded area to a street, three men stopped directly in front of him.  They were clearly soldiers of some sort as they wore chainmail armor that covered bodies and head.  Like everyone else, they wore thick wool cloaks to keep the cold out, but all three had their cloaks open and their hands on the pommels of their short swords.  One of them said something, clearly in their own language, but Glaerion did not recognize what they said.  His first instinct was to defend himself, but killing three soldiers the moment he stepped onto their land was not going to be helpful.

Glaerion took a moment to recall the language of man that he remembered.  It had been so long since he had spoken it, the words took some time coming out.  “Do you not speak the language of men?” he finally asked.

The three soldiers looked at each other. 

One of soldiers drew his sword and stepped forward.  He kept his sword low, pointed at the ground. “Who are you?  Where are you from?”

“My name is Glaerion,” he said.  “I have come from afar.”

“What do you want here?”

Glaerion did his best to hide his anger.  Being questioned by these three soldiers could only make his efforts to find the user of magic more difficult.  He needed to be secret and invisible, but his luck had run out even before he began his search.  Even if these three soldiers were to let him go, his appearance would surely be remembered.  He did not look, or talk, like anyone else.  If he only had time to make his appearance more like everyone else, he might have been able to blend in. 

“I am but a traveler, visiting your lands,” Glaerion replied.  He gave the soldiers the friendliest smile he could.

“Your ship, where did it go?”

Glaerion turned to look to the gulf.  His ship had set sail and was no longer visible.  “It has sailed up the coast to find fresh water,” Glaerion said, hoping that the truth would satisfy these soldiers.

But based on the reaction of the soldiers, he story was not going to be believed.  Glaerion got the feeling that any story he told would not be believed.  The other two soldiers had drawn their weapons as well.

“You do not believe me?” Glaerion asked.  “It is the truth?”

“You will come with us,” the first soldier said.  “Our commander will wish to see you.”

Glaerion did not move.  He did not have time for this little encounter, much less getting hauled off in front of some dimwit soldier who thought he was smarter than his subordinates just because he had some sort of title.

The three soldiers lifted their swords.  Again, the first soldier said, “You will come with us.  It is not a request.”

He knew his skills were rusty, but he had spent many hours practicing on the boat.  Even though it had been just practice and not real life combat, he felt confident and comfortable in his abilities against these soldiers.  He took a step back and tossed his cloak behind him, freeing his arms from the constraints of the thick wool cloth.  In the same motion, he drew his long dagger from its sheath.  It had a curve to the blade, making it more of a slashing weapon than a stabbing weapon.  He was a master with its use and he would quickly dispatch these three soldiers.  They would be no match for his skill, even if their swords were longer than his dagger.  He was too quick for them to take advantage of their short swords.  In fact, as they were primarily stabbing weapons, they would not help them at all.

The twang caught his superior ears and his mind reacted quickly.  It was an unusual sound, but it was close enough to the sound of an arrow being released that he could only assume that he was being fired upon.  He had also practiced the spell many times on the boat so that it rolled off his tongue instinctively.  The air around him shimmered, making everything he could see slightly out of focus.  Likewise, the soldiers who saw him suddenly no longer saw him clearly, but saw him as a fuzzy version of himself.

An instant after the shield spell was cast, four bolts struck the shimmering shield and exploded in thousands of shards.  The force of the arrows was much more than what Glaerion expected, which caused him to lose concentration just for a moment.  That lapse caused the shield to drop, and Glaerion’s heart, which had been racing with the excitement of the moment, suddenly pounded harder.  He would not be able to cast the spell again for a few moments as the web of magic needed to recharge within himself.  If the bowmen launched their arrows again, he would not be able to defend himself.

But he had nothing to worry about as the three soldiers who stood in front of him were frozen in fear.  They had seen the crossbow bolts just simply explode in midair.  It was as if they had hit a brick wall, but there was no wall there.  Likewise, the crossbowmen who were hidden in the shadows of a nearby building were stunned into an unmoving trance.  They had seen their perfectly aimed bolts head straight for this stranger, but instead of bringing him down, the bolts had exploded in midair.

Glaerion did not hesitate.  His battle instincts might have been rusty, but the moment his heart started pumping with the release of the spell, that rust was knocked away.  He turned away from the three soldiers and sprang his body into a full run within two strides.  But with his eyes still locked on the three soldiers, he only saw a brief flash of something coming towards his head before blackness enveloped him.

***

Sergeant Farrus, still clutching the thick chunk of wood, stood over the strange man.  A large bump was already visible on the man’s temple, right next to his oddly shaped ears.  The man’s ears were long and thin and came to a sharp point.  He looked up at three of his men who stood unmoving, their eyes wide and their mouths open.  For the moment, the sergeant excused them as they were young and inexperienced.  But they had been training for years and should have enough battle instincts to not be rattled by strange events.  That was one of the downfalls of having all his experienced men pulled out of the city.  All he had left to command was a group of boyS pretending to be men.  He would have to shape them up quickly, or they would not last long.

“Tie him up,” Sergeant Farrus said.  “And be quick about it.  He might wake up any time.”

“You hit him hard!” one of the centurions exclaimed with a laugh.

Sergeant Farrus stalked forward, ignoring the comment and pushing the centurion aside.  “Bowmen!” the sergeant screamed.  “Who fired?  We were to take him alive!”

The four crossbowmen who had hid in the shadows of a nearby building came out of hiding, their crossbows still strung with a bolt ready to be fired.  They walked slowly, fearful of the tongue lashing that they were going to get.  It took several minutes for the sergeant to vent his rage.  By the time he returned to the still form of the strange man, the other centurions had properly tied him up.

“What did he do?” one of them asked.  “The bolts just exploded!”

Sergeant Farrus had some idea what happened, but he knew it could not be possible.  Tales of magic were children’s stories told to entertain the young.  Those who had lived as long as he did certainly did not believe in such nonsense.  He had seen many strange things in his time serving the empire, but the idea of a mystical force that could do magical things was not one of them.  He believed in blood and steel, but his own eyes had told him a different story.  He was close enough to hear the words and then the foreigner turned fuzzy, as if there was something between himself and the man.  And then when the bolts struck and exploded even before hitting the man, Sergeant Farrus knew something was amiss.

It certainly did make sense, based on the messenger who had arrived just hours ago.  The emperor was dead, having been burned to death in a fire.  There was no indication in the message about any sort of strange occurrences, but then again, it was unlikely that such information would be passed along.  The message simply ordered him to be on the lookout for a ship that was carrying a foreigner as a passenger.  The foreigner was to be apprehended and held for questioning for the murder of the emperor.  He was to be considered guilty, unless he was able to show incontrovertible proof that he was not the killer.

The sergeant, upon reading the message, had thought it implausible that the emperor could be killed.  He was too well guarded, as he had experienced in the first years of his service as a guard in Tara City.  Although he had never directly guarded the emperor, he knew that the number and quality of centurions who surrounded the emperor would have made it impossible for anyone to get close enough to assassinate him.  Unless, of course, they had some special and remarkable abilities.

“Gag him,” Sergeant Farrus said, ignoring the wide eyes of his young centurions.  “And tightly.  Do not let him speak.  Take him to the barracks.  We will chain him up in there.”

The three centurions worked together to haul the foreigner away.  The four crossbowmen continued to suffer the rage of their sergeant for the entire march from the edge of the city to the centurion barracks.

Chapter Six

The entire city of Thellia was buzzing with excitement.  An overnight snowfall had covered the Jorgan River with a layer of light and fluffy snow.  Teams of people used flat pieces of wood tied to sticks to clear large areas of the ice that capped the river.  Once clear, hundreds of children and adults rushed out onto the river to race around or just play on the ice.  Some wore just their boots, but others had thin, sharp steel blades tied tightly to special boots and skated on the ice.  There were races and games of skill, but most of the people on the river simply walked or skated, laughing and enjoying one another.

Toknon escorted Elissa from the castle, walking side-by-side across the drawbridge and down to the edge of the river.  Hollin and Kern insisted on being near the queen, but stayed just far enough away so that the queen and the prince could have their privacy.  The prince insisted that they would not need to be armed.  But the queen, sensing some displeasure from her escorts, insisted that they keep their swords.  In the end, Kern was allowed to keep his sword, but Hollin was not allowed to wear his.  But no one checked his loose cloak for any hidden weapons, so he kept a sheathed dagger tucked into the small of his back.

Standing at the river’s edge, the queen looked out at the many hundreds of Thellians that were out on the ice.

“How do they stand up?” Elissa asked.  But just then, a couple that were on skates suddenly lost their balance and fell hard on their bottoms.  Elissa could not help but laugh, especially after the couple also broke out into laughter.

“As you can see,” the prince said.  “They do not always.”

“So, they are called skates?”

“Our blacksmiths are very skilled at creating blades for the army as well as for shoes,” Toknon explained.  “They are strapped tightly to boots, and can be used to travel very fast across the ice.  In the winter, skaters go up and down the river, passing messages to the outlying villages.

A race was in progress with the leaders buzzing past much faster than she had ever seen anyone run.  They were easily moving as fast as a horse.

Toknon motioned out onto the ice.  “Would you like to try?”

Elissa thought about it for a moment, but then she witnessed another group of young ladies that were skating hand-in-hand, all fall to the ice together.  Although they got up laughing, Elissa could see that they were in pain.  Their skating after that was slow and stiff. 

With a friendly smile, she shook her head.  “Oh, I think I will pass.”

“Then shall we walk into the city and see the ice sculptures?”

Queen Elissa nodded her head and replied, “Lead on.”

They walked away from the river towards the center of the city.  The overnight snow had given a fresh look to even the most dilapidated building.  Everything looked new and shiny in the brightness of the white snow.  Everyone had a smile on their face and as the prince and queen passed by, everyone gave a friendly bow and greeting.

“Everyone is so friendly,” Elissa remarked.

“The Ice Festival will do that.  This is a week where Thellians of all ages just have fun and play together.  We celebrate winter by enjoying what the cold brings.  Up here, the winter can be oppressive.  There can be endless days of bitter cold and endless snow.  But this one week, we embrace it.  And love it.”

“No,” the queen said sheepishly.  “To me, I mean.  Everyone is pleasant and friendly to me.  When you visited South Karmon, it was not that way.  They do not treat me as an enemy, like we treated you.”

“We are a simple people, Elissa.  We do not have lords who rule over their own properties and have peasants that work the land for them.  There are no layers of government.  It is my father who rules all, and I help him when I can.”

“But how do you manage all of that?  When there are disputes that must be settled, or laws that must be upheld?  Is it only your father who sits in judgment?”

“We have many small villages and each village has an elder or a group of elders that serves as leaders of the community.  They settle disputes.  And if they cannot, then my father gets involved, but that rarely happens.  Our villages do a fine job of ruling over themselves.”

Elissa shook her head.  “It seems so simple.”

“We are a simple people, so it works.  For us.”

“It wouldn’t work for us, though,” Elissa said defensively.

Toknon let out a rare laugh.  “Of course not, you are not Thellian, as we are not Karmon.  Your lords and their rules work for your people, and that is okay.  Ours works for us.  It is just different.”

Elissa fell silent as they continued their walk. She had grown up knowing only one way and had always assumed that it was the right way and that any other way would be wrong.  She still did not see how Thell could manage to govern herself without lords to rule over their peasants, but she came to accept that she did not have to understand.  Maybe in time she would and she might even come to appreciate how Thell ruled herself.  But more importantly, she came to the realization that there was not just one way to do something and that there really could be many right ways to do it.  The people of Thell were not the evil and angry mob that she had always envisioned.  They were different in many ways, but they were also the same in many ways.  The laughter that she heard was done not in the language of Thell, or the language of Commoner, but in the universal language of the people of the world. 

Elissa looked to the south and saw the fully snow-covered White Mountains.  On the other side of that mountain range was her kingdom.  Some imaginary line separated their two kingdoms, probably drawn on some map somewhere.  But they didn’t need to be two people.  They could be one people, living together as friends, sharing in the best that each kingdom offered.  Her father had seen that, at least before Neffenmark was able to convince him otherwise.  He had seen the good in the people of Thell and had started down the path of peace.  She had finished it with a peace treaty that forced them to be friends.  But she did not want to force Thell and Karmon to be friends.  She wanted them to be friends because they were so much alike and could really be better kingdoms joined as one.  South Karmon could use a little of the fun and excitement that an event such as the Ice Festival brought to the people.  And Thellia could use better and stronger buildings to help keep the cold out during the coldest months of the year.

“You have not said a word in some time,” Toknon said softly.

Elissa looked up at him and smiled.  “Just thinking,” she said.

“About?”

Elissa did not want to go where her thoughts were going.  If she said the words aloud, it would only take a moment for the prince to agree to what she was thinking.  Her father had been right from the beginning.  Their kingdoms did need to be joined, and the only way to ensure that both kingdoms would exist was if they became one though marriage.  Her head knew it was the right thing to do, so why did she dread those thoughts so much?  Because, of course, her heart was thinking thoughts of another.

She had not thought of Conner all day and the moment his face popped into her head, her heart skipped a beat.  An odd feeling started deep in her stomach that she could not explain.  She had felt it so many times, most often when he had walked into a room with her.  But now, just the thought of him sent her into a tizzy.  And she did not know why.  He was handsome and strong, the kind of man that any woman would crave.  But he was not a noble, or even a merchant.  He was a peasant boy who would have amounted to nothing if he hadn’t been at the right place at the right time.  He had saved her life and they had spent the most harrowing time of her life together.  He had protected her and kept her alive, just what she wanted out of a man.

But there was more than that, too.  They had spent much time together where they had talked about everything from the trivial to deep discussions on why certain men could be knights and others could not.  More than anything else it was his articulate and genuine arguments against knighthood that had caused her to disband the Karmon Knights.  He really had convinced her, not only through his words, but also his actions, that any man could be a knight, not just those with certain blood running through them.  And unlike many others, he had never treated her less because she was a girl, or a woman.  So many times, even male servants had clearly treated her like a lesser person because she was not a man.  But Conner had never done that.  And he had always been a perfect gentleman, never going farther than an honorable man would.

There were so many reasons why she loved him.  But she was the ruler of a kingdom that not only needed heirs, it needed peace.  She glanced over at Toknon and realized that he was one way to get both.

A central plaza had been cleared where large blocks of ice had been set.  While many artisans were busy at work carving their masterpieces, just as many had already been finished.  Most of the sculptures were animals carved in exquisite detail.  A wolf, sitting proudly marked the entrance to the plaza.  It was carved to be nearly twice the size of a live wolf, which made its appearance even grander.

“The wolf is on my family’s crest,” Toknon said, admiring the cold statue.

“Where is the king?” Elissa asked.  “Shall I not see him?”

“Oh, he is not well,” the prince responded.  “I do not wish to burden you with his ill health, but if he is feeling better when we feast for dinner, I would gladly introduce you to him.”

Elissa accepted his words, but still felt it strange that that the king had not yet greeted her.  But if he was ill, then that would explain his absence.  They continued walking through the garden of ice sculptures in silence, each in their own thoughts.

They passed by a large bear standing upon its hind legs, its claws sharpened to points.  Even though it was carved from a large block of ice, it was very realistic.  She had never seen a bear up close, but could easily imagine the ferociousness of the beast based on the carving that stood before her.

But then her eyes fell upon the next sculpture and she exclaimed, “What is that!”

As incredible as the sculpture of the bear was, the creature behind it was even more so.  It had a long and thin body, almost snakelike.  It stood upon three legs, with its left front leg lifted high.  Attached to its side were wings, folded onto its back.  Its neck stretched high into the sky, capped by an elongated head that had four sharp horns atop.  Its mouth was wide, exposing rows of teeth.

Elissa stood, awestruck.  If the sculpture had not been of ice, she would have been sure that it was alive, ready to pounce on her.

“It is a called a dragon,” Toknon said.

“I have heard of such creatures, but only in stories that my old chambermaid had told me.  Her dragons did not look like that.”

“They say that many thousands upon thousands of years ago, they filled the skies.  It was before there were people, when they ruled the earth.”

“Children’s stories,” Elissa said with a smile, but her eyes could not break away from the incredible, highly detailed sculpture.  “Why the squares on the body?”

Toknon stepped up to the sculpture and gently caressed the body, letting his hand touch the slight cuts that covered the body.  “Scales,” he said.  “Dragons are covered in scales that protect it.  These scales are so hard, that no metal, no matter how sharp, can penetrate it.”

“I guess the dragons of Thell are different than the dragons of Karmon,” Elissa said.  “Ollenia, my old chambermaid, described them as tricksters that stole little girls from their mommies when they didn’t listen.  They were fat and slow, but they could change shape into that of a man or a woman.  They certainly didn’t have wings.”

Toknon chuckled.  “This sculpture is small compared to the size of a real dragon.  In reality, dragons were ten times that size.  Some as long as a hundred feet.”

Elissa giggled.  “You talk as if they are real!”

“They may be children’s stories in Karmon but in Thell, they are more than just a myth.  They are legend and we believe they were real.”

“Have you ever seen one?” Elissa asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Of course not.  If they were still around, they would rule the earth.  A great war killed them out thousands upon thousands of years ago.  Before man came to rule the earth.”

“More stories,” Elissa said.

The prince allowed himself to smile.  “They are our legends.  The stories are passed down from one generation to the next.  But they are not just children’s stories.  They are stories of our people.”

“What is that,” Elissa said, pointing at what appeared to be a large cat.

“It is called a tiger.”

“It looks like a cat, but with very long teeth.  And much bigger.”

“That I have seen.”

Elissa snapped her head around.  “A cat, that big?”

“Not alive, but its pelt.  A trader from the far west came through some years ago selling furs from animals such as this.  My father purchased it and he is now, in fact, sleeping underneath it.  And it’s really not a cat.  It looks like one, but the trader described it as a ferocious beast.”

“Like your dragon?”

“No, of course not.  A dragon is much more dangerous!”

They continued walking through the plaza, chatting about the rest of the sculptures and not much else.  Elissa actually found the prince’s company enjoyable, which continued to surprise her.  He had always been portrayed as a stoic soldier who killed Karmons indiscriminately.  She did find him a bit stiff, but he smiled just enough and was just pleasant enough to be likable.  And that scared her.  She knew that at some point, she would have to really consider whether or not their kingdoms should be joined by marriage and if she actually liked him, it might make the decision that much easier.  Or harder.