The Elf King (13 page)

They made their way into
the cooking room and packed some provisions into deep pockets
hidden within their robes; dried meats and cheese mostly, a few
chunks of bread, other food would be foraged when needed. They left
the main rooms and ventured through the corridors leading them out
to Illken Dor’s entrance. Stepping outside, the cool air sweeping
across the lake met them.

Shadox placed one hand on
Ankar’s shoulder and smiled. Ankar could sense the sadness within
him. Shadox spoke softly. “Ankar Rie, I have taught you all that I
can. You have been my greatest pupil and I am proud to have you
with me.”

Shadox increased his grip,
squeezing Ankar’s muscle. “You are ready. But our paths will turn
here, my friend. You must go to Cillitran and speak with the Queen.
Sienna will not want to hear anything you must tell her. Be ready.
She is stubborn, and now with the King gone, she will not be easily
persuaded. But you must delay the attack on the Forest Elves for as
long as you can. Inform their army of the threat advancing from the
north. Their commanders will listen to you. Prepare them as best
you can, and I will join you in the fight.”

“
Where will you
go?”

“
I have to go into the
southland. I will return to the house of Andelline as soon as I
can. And I will bring a weapon of great destruction to aid us in
the war. Things will be dark, Ankar. Stand firm.”

Ankar felt the grip on his
shoulder tighten, then release. “You too.”

“
Till we meet again, my
friend.” Shadox turned and walked away. He moved over a wood and
rope bridge leading over Night Well. In seconds he was lost from
view.

“
These walls will await
your return.” Ankar Rie whispered.

He stood overlooking Night
Well alone. After taking one last look at his home, he reached into
his cloak and produced a small clear pill. He tossed it into Night
Well and began walking across the bridge. Seconds later, a thick
sheet of mist began to rise from its dark waters consuming
everything.

Across the black water,
standing in the midst of the rocks, Ankar Rie looked back and saw
nothing of Illken Dor.

Chapter 8

A
nkar Rie walked all through the night without pausing, using
the lighted pinpricks overhead for navigation, strolling out of the
rocky maze of the Stone Flats with great efficiency, moving swiftly
across the rolling Mallen Hills until he reached the northern edge
of the Shyl Plains. Far to the east, he could barely make out the
black silhouette of the Caltar Mountains, which channeled down to
his destination.

He paused to wipe the beads
of sweat forming against his eyebrows. The air was cool, the sky
clear. He reached into his cloak and produced a small pouch and
took a few small drinks from it, then placed it back where he wore
it. His thoughts remained on the task given to him. He was to
prevent a Race war. He was wondering how easy the task would prove
to be. He knew little of King Andelline, and even less of Queen
Sienna. He had never been into the city of Cillitran. But being of
the race of Man himself, he thought it would at least be more
fruitful than going into the Ailia Court to try and reason with the
Elves.

Ankar Rie took a deep
breath, staring out into the blanket of stars overhead, then began
moving once again. He found it odd enough that in all his years
spent in Illken Dor, never once had he ventured this far south. He
was from a small village far to the north, beyond the Fang Line.
His mother had died giving birth to him, and his father shortly
after. He spent his youth in the care of his mother’s friend and
her husband. They had no children. They had cared for Ankar as
though he was their own, giving him the best life they could offer.
But Ankar felt like he was a burden to them, and that he needed to
be someplace else. He was close to adulthood when he had left the
village, packing little, saying even less to those who looked after
him. He knew they would try to make him stay, and he knew he had to
go. He walked south, making stops at all the towns, always having
the same feeling that he should keep moving, never staying in one
place for very long.

A few years removed from
his home, he reached the small town of Wichta. He was not there
very long when a group of Trolls invaded. He fought alongside of
the townspeople, pushing the Trolls out, but withstanding great
loss. The town was destroyed. Several people were dead, many more
were seriously wounded. Ankar had sustained life-ending injuries
and the townspeople could not treat his wounds sufficiently. They
left him for dead. Ankar slipped into a coma. No one thought he
would survive.

When Ankar awoke, there was
a man re-dressing his wounds. His eyes were dark and very intense;
it was a look Ankar would never forget. The man had been taking
care of him for weeks, he said. When he was able, Ankar told his
savior who he was and what had befallen him. When Ankar asked where
he was, the other simply replied, “Safe.” They talked more during
the course of his recovery, the man staying close to his side,
seemingly eager to see him healthy again. It was nearly a month
before Ankar was up and walking on his own.

Ankar asked again where he
was. The other smiled and replied, “You’re in Illken Dor, Ankar
Rie. I am Shadox.”

Ankar had remained at
Illken Dor with Shadox since.

He kicked a loose stone
across the soft grass and smiled at the memory. It had been the
first time in his life where he felt at home. And now as he was
walking further from his sanctuary, he realized how much he had
enjoyed his life there.

Keeping his pace, he tried
not to think about what it would mean if he did not
return.

It was in the early hours
of the morning when the land around Ankar began to change. Small
groups of thin trees and bushy shrubs formed blotches against the
rather smooth appearance of the grassy plains. He was closer to the
mountains now and the landscape was hilly with patches of woods
lining the edge of the plains. As he looked skyward to his left he
saw dawn’s red glow approaching, chasing the darkness back into
hiding.

As he moved along a sparse
stretch of thin trees, he began to have a nagging suspicion that
someone was following him. Watching him, rather, he thought after
some time. He could sense a definite presence, powerful and
unpleasant. Several times he stopped walking, crouched low to the
grass, and waited. Nothing showed. But the feeling would not leave.
In fact, the longer he walked, the stronger it became.

The sun was just showing at
the horizon when Ankar Rie reached a small rise and stopped. He
could see a good distance around him. With dawn’s early light,
anyone or anything searching for him would have been spotted. He
scanned the area for nearly an hour before deciding to use his
magic.

Ankar Rie knelt on the soft
grass and loosened his cloak, finding a comfortable position for
his arms to rest in before him. His fingers began to twitch and
move as if he was weaving cloth that only he could see. His eyes
were closed tight; the lines on his face were deep with
concentration. Slowly his lips moved; his voice was merely a
whisper if anything. He began casting out his magic, as Shadox had
taught him, searching for whatever form of life was waiting. He
slowly circled the hill he knelt on, working his way out in wide
sweeps, covering a large portion of the land quickly and
effortlessly.

He found the source almost
instantly; it was like watching a flame in pitch darkness. As he
honed in on the source, he strengthened his efforts. He could
almost feel the others’ eyes moving with each of his steps.
Somewhere close was a small pond. Within the pond the creature
waited.

Almost immediately he began
to ponder another approach to Cillitran, but there was none that
would be as quick and direct, and time was of the essence. Taking
time to reroute would be out of the question. He had to continue as
planned. He could skirt the area around the creature and not lose
much time. Ankar forced himself to put the creature’s presence to
the back of his thoughts and pushed onward.

He walked through the Shyl
Plains for the remainder of the morning and on into late afternoon
without pause. He was anxious to be out of the wild and into the
Andelline castle walls. At least there, he thought, his magic could
stand against anyone attempting to claim his life.

Moving with the massive
stretch of Caltar Mountains at his left side, he took a measure of
his life. He was alone. Outside of Shadox and Illken Dor, he had no
one to even communicate with. No one else even knew he existed. He
couldn’t help but to wonder where his life would’ve been if the
tragedies of his youth had befallen someone else instead. He would
be married, he thought. He would have traveled and seen more of the
country, discovered more through being with someone than by simply
taking his own opinion in matters. But just as soon as the thoughts
began, he set them back where they belonged. It was folly to dream
of such things, he knew. Such things that were not meant for him.
He was a sorcerer, and now a servant of higher meaning. And if this
is not where he was supposed to have been, then something would
have changed matters by now.

Pulling his hood over his
blonde hair, Ankar Rie sighed deeply and regained his focus for the
coming events. Hardening his ache for companionship, he pressed
on.

Dusk came and went. He
walked into the early portion of the night, when he first smelled
the campfire. It was still a good distance ahead, and he had not
made out the fire yet, but he decided to head in that direction. He
was tired and in need of some conversation, along with hot food and
cold drink. A bath would be ideal, however that would have to wait
until he reached the comforts of Cillitran. As he moved past a
string of half-grown pine trees, he could see the yellow flames
flickering just beyond. As he came closer, he saw three bodies
sitting around it, two horses resting behind them, and a tent
perhaps in the background.

Ankar Rie made his approach
known, not wishing to startle the trio, hoping to be welcomed. He
walked straight for them, slowing as they stopped talking and took
notice of his presence. As each of them stood and waited, he smiled
warmly.

“
Good evening. I am Ankar
Rie, traveling south to Cillitran. Can I join you?” His voice was
relaxed, friendly. He removed his hood.

A young brown-haired woman
stood between the two men and answered enthusiastically, “Come on.
We were just speaking of the south.”

The two men concurred
easily, making room around the fire for Ankar, smiles abroad. Ankar
walked over and greeted them each with a firm handshake.

“
Ankar, my name is Mortan,”
the short-haired man greeted. The sleeves were cut off his shirt
and loose around his neck. He wore dark green pants and nothing on
his feet. His smile was genuine.

“
I’m Trolan, and this is my
sister Jendi,” the tall, lanky man with thick dark hair said, with
a gesture to the petite woman standing next to him, who smiled
bashfully. Trolan offered Ankar a plate of stew and a chunk of
bread. “Care to join us?”

Ankar’s first impressions
of these people were that they were drifters. Their appearance was
dirty, save for the girl’s sparkling red scarf, but they didn’t
seem to mind. And though Morton might seem physically fit, Trolan,
with his slouching stance and gangly arms, seemed as though a gust
of wind would sweep him across the plains. The woman though, he
thought, with small speckles of dirt across her cheeks, was easy on
the eyes no matter how poor her etiquette was, and no matter how
hard the fire tried to hide her beauty in shadow.

Ankar nodded to Trolan.
“Please, and thank you.” He took the plate and sat across the fire
from Jendi with the two men on either side. “You’re from the south,
you said?”

Jendi smiled. “We’re from
various parts of the south, you might say.”

Trolan laughed whimsically.
“My sister is too kind. What she wants to say without saying is
that we are—”

“
Leaving the south, going
north.” Mortan finished with a wink.

“
What about you, Ankar?”
asked Jendi. Her long brown hair appeared as soft as her lips. Her
green eyes sparkled something that Ankar had never seen.