The Quest (The Hidden Realm Book 5) (26 page)

“Are you real or do I dream your presence?” Anthea asked then in a faint voice that Elerian could barely hear.

“I am truly here,” replied Elerian joyfully as he reached for the silver flask of aqua vitae that he carried at his belt. With great care, he allowed Anthea a single swallow before setting the container aside. Her eyes closed then, but Elerian saw that she was breathing lightly but steadily now and that her ruby ring, though fainter than normal, pulsed with a steady rhythm beneath the illusion which concealed it. Elerian now took a sip of aqua vitae himself, for Anthea’s sudden revival and the loss of the power he had given her had left him both shaken and spent. Turning to Ascilius, he favored the Dwarf with a look of mingled exasperation and joy.

“How did you know what to do?” he asked. Before Ascilius could reply, Elerian heard Anthea laugh softly. Turning his head he saw that she had opened her eyes again.

“A kiss from one’s true love is old magic,” she said with an echo of her old mischief in her voice. “I wonder that Ascilius was romantic enough to remember and you were not.”

“It is beyond amazing,” replied Elerian dryly. “I would have sworn that he did not possess a single ounce of sentiment in his entire body.”

“As usual, you are entirely wrong in your assumptions about me,” replied Ascilius smugly. “I am no stranger to the art of love.”

“Wait until I tell you about his last romantic episode,” said Elerian in an aside to Anthea, his gray eyes suddenly alight with mischief. Ascilius frowned then and was about to reply, but Dacien spoke up first.

“Your presence has restored them to their normal state,” he said dryly to Anthea before sitting down on her left side, His gray eyes alight with happiness, he took her left hand gently in his own larger right hand, as if to reassure himself that she was truly there before him, alive and unharmed.

“I would worry if they were not tweaking each other,” replied Anthea with a smile. “It is good to see you again brother. I would hear the tale of how you and Elerian rescued me.”

“You may listen and talk till you heart’s content later,” interrupted Elerian, offering Anthea another greater swallow of aqua vitae. “For now, you should rest.”

“I will do as I please,” protested Anthea, but there was only the ghost of her old spirit in her voice. Despite her efforts to keep them open, her eyes soon closed and she drifted off into sleep.

“Rest now and food later will restore her,” Elerian assured Dacien, who still held Anthea’s hand. “She suffered no physical injury from her ordeal thanks to the shield spell which protected her. The potion which rendered her unconscious may also have unintentionally saved her life, slowing the rhythms of her body so that she was able to survive in her airless prison until we rescued her.”

“What about this fellow?” Dacien asked Elerian, at the same time pointing to the prisoner whom they had rescued. The poor fellow lay without moving on a cloak nearby, where Dacien had set him down. “From the feel of him, he has more broken bones than whole ones and appears to have been both starved and tortured. I doubt that even your powers of healing will preserve his life for much longer.”

Overwhelmed by his concern for Anthea, Elerian had forgotten the prisoner whom he had forced Dacien to rescue. Guiltily tearing himself away from Anthea, he stood up and walked over to the still form of the freed captive, observing that his breathing was shallow and uneven with sudden gaps in between the breaths. Through the rags which covered him, Elerian saw burns, cuts, and bones lying at odd angles, their misalignment indicating that they had been broken and never set properly.

“An Ancharian,” thought Elerian to himself as he took in the prisoner’s dark, gray shot hair and tall lean body. I fear Dacien is right in that he will not live for long, but at least he will not die alone in the dark.” Gently Elerian lifted the rescued captive’s head before giving him a swallow of the aqua vitae from his flask. As the restorative liquid coursed through the Ancharian, he opened his dark eyes and from their blank stare, Elerian knew that he was blind. Feebly, he lifted his emaciated right arm and ran the bony, filthy fingers of his right hand across Elerian’s face. Elerian suffered the examination, feeling only pity for the broken and abused Ancharian.

“Who are you?” asked the former prisoner in a harsh croaking voice that sounded as if it had not been used in a long time. “This is no Goblin face beneath my fingers.”

“I am a friend,” replied Elerian. “Rest now while I tend to your injuries.”

“Alas, I fear I am beyond help were you the greatest healer in the Middle Realm,” replied the Ancharian weakly.

Elerian did not dispute the prisoner’s hopeless assessment of his condition, but was still determined to do what he could to ease the fellow’s plight no matter how much of his store of power the effort might consume. Laying his right hand on the Ancharian’s chest, he watched with his third eye as a flow of golden light issued from his fingers and enveloped the broken body of the rescued prisoner. He and the Ancharian remained joined together for a long time, Ascilius watching over them while the rest of the company kept their distance. In truth, there was little for them to see, for the golden light which flowed from Elerian's fingers to envelop and heal the body of the Ancharian was invisible to their eyes.

When, at last, Elerian took his hands wearily away and came back to himself, he saw that the broken bones, cuts, and bruises inflicted by the Goblins on the Ancharian were all healed, and that his dark eyes were filled with wonder, for their power of sight was restored. The remarkable transformation in the former prisoner surprised even Elerian, for he had not thought that his powers of healing had grown so much.

“This fellow may survive after all,” Elerian thought wonderingly to himself.

“Who are you, and why were you imprisoned?” asked Ascilius then, his voice cold. Like all Dwarves, he did not look kindly on Ancharians.

“Forian is my name,” replied the Ancharian. “I will gladly tell you my story, but I warn you, it is a long tale overflowing with sadness.”

“We will have time to listen when you are stronger,” said Elerian, surprised at the Ancharian’s courtesy, for it was not typical of his race. “We cannot stir from this place until we are certain that we have eluded any pursuers who may come looking for us.”

Feeling at ease now, for the rain falling heavily outside the cave would continue to keep them safe and hidden, Elerian took a long swallow from his silver flask before beginning the task of healing his own wounds, drawing heavily on the small store of power left in his master ring, for his own strength was almost gone. Afterwards, he carried Forian outside into the pouring rain and helped him wash away the filth of the dungeon in the nearby creek. Back inside the cave again, he gave Forian some of his spare clothes to wear for they were of a similar size. After giving him more aqua vitae, Elerian then bade Forian to sleep and regain his strength. Waking Anthea, Elerian administered another draught of the restorative liquid from his flask, and then waited by her side until she slept peacefully once more, Dacien still holding her hand. Rising wearily, Elerian saw that all his other companions had lain down to rest except Ascilius who sat in front of the red flames of the small mage fire that burned in the center of the cave.

“The rain will end tonight, I think,” said Ascilius when Elerian sat down on his left side.

“It does not matter now,” replied Elerian comfortably. “There is no longer any scent or sign left to lead an enemy here. We can remain concealed in this cave until Anthea and Forian have regained their strength, and then we can be on our way again.” When Elerian fell silent, he and Ascilius sat in companionable silence for a moment, the flames and heat of the fire transforming the small cave into a warm and homey place. Staring languorously into the shifting flames before him, Elerian felt content as he had not been in a long time despite the precariousness of their situation.

“For the first time since I left Anthea behind in Tarsius, I feel complete again, as if some missing part of me has been restored,” he thought to himself. He turned then and looked at Ascilius, a pained expression appearing on his face, as if he had some onerous task to perform.

“You were right Ascilius,” Elerian said reluctantly and quietly, as if he did not wish his other companions to hear his words.

“What about?” asked the Dwarf, a puzzled look on his face.

“Everything,” replied Elerian wryly. “Had I rushed off alone to Nefandus as I first intended, I would not be sitting here now with Anthea safe and sound nearby. Your plan to take the land route, which I so strongly resisted, is what brought the means to rescue Anthea into my hands. Can you forgive the harsh words and treatment that I directed your way after we rescued Dacien?”

As Elerian had feared, a smug expression now spread across Ascilius’s craggy face. With an inward sigh, he prepared himself for the abuse which he was certain was about to come his way.

“Think nothing of it,” replied Ascilius. His voice was magnanimous, but there was a sly look in his dark eyes.

“Here it comes,” thought Elerian resignedly to himself.

“Admit that I was right before the whole company, and I will put the past behind us,” continued Ascilius solemnly.

“You would be insufferable then,” replied Elerian with a shake of his head. “Perhaps all the beer you can drink will suffice instead.”

“You are insulting my noble character by offering a bribe,” replied Ascilius in an offended voice.

“What would satisfy you then besides a public apology?” asked Elerian dryly.

“All the beer I can drink in a year,” replied Ascilius blandly.

“You would cause a drought in this part of the world if I agreed to that,” suggested Elerian sardonically.

“A month then,” bargained Ascilius.

“All the beer you can drink tonight is the most that I will agree to,” replied Elerian firmly.

“You are as stingy with your spirits as a Dwarf is with his gold,” observed Ascilius in an aggrieved voice, “but I suppose I must take what is offered.” He looked expectantly at Elerian, but his companion remained both silent and motionless. An impatient look now took hold of Ascilius’s features, as if he was both surprised and disappointed that Elerian had not sprung up at once to commence his beer making activities.

“The night is wasting away,” hinted the Dwarf to Elerian. “You ought to begin your beer making now if you are to keep your end of our bargain.”

“Was all that occurred since we left Iulius part of some plan beyond the scope of our understanding, Ascilius?” asked Elerian pensively, as if he had not heard any part of the Dwarf’s words. “When we began our quest to save Anthea, I was distraught, for it seemed a hopeless task had been set before me, one with no hope of success. Then, one by one, all the elements that I needed to accomplish her rescue came to my hands during our journey.”

“You mistake coincidence for purpose,” replied Ascilius skeptically. “I think your own skill combined with a good bit of luck is what saved Anthea. You simply made the most of the opportunities that came your way.”

“But some of my decisions had entirely unexpected and beneficial consequences that I never planned,” mused Elerian. “I made the rings that we wear solely as a means to sway you into releasing me from the promise that I made to you in the eastern passageway, for the locations of Anthea’s cell and this cave were already fixed in my mind. And yet, these two devices, which I never intended to use, brought Anthea, Dacien, and me safely out of Tyranus.”

“You left me behind on purpose then, for I would have cheerfully given my permission if you had allowed me to accompany you to Tyranus!” exclaimed Ascilius indignantly.

“You would have been in the way, charging randomly about to indulge in your thirst for blood,” replied Elerian lightly, but his attempt to provoke the Dwarf and change the direction of the conversation failed.

“You looked into that cursed orb again!” stated Ascilius angrily. “You saw something that led you to believe that you would never return from Tyranus, so you plotted to leave me behind!”

“I did,” admitted Elerian, wondering at Ascilius’s perceptiveness. “‘It seemed pointless for you to die with me, so I tried to save your life by keeping you here. The results were opposite to what I intended, however, for Torquatus set a trap for me in Anthea’s cell. Without you and your ring, I would never have found my way back. You saved my life instead of me saving yours.”

“We are even then,” said Ascilius, becoming smug once more. “I am no longer in your debt for saving me from the Gargol.”

“The ledger between us is blank once more,” replied Elerian solemnly.

 “Let us talk of more important things, then, over a water bottle full of beer, for this surfeit of philosophy has begun to make my head hurt,” replied Ascilius impatiently. “Tell me what happened after you passed through the gate. Was there a great deal of fighting?”

FORIAN

“Ascilius was so clearly disappointed at missing out on the combat that he suspected had taken place in Tyranus that Elerian was unable to restrain a soft laugh, the clear, glad sound piercing the dark cave where they sat like a ray of bright sunshine.

“You are hopeless Ascilius,” he replied, still laughing softly. “In truth, you missed little except for the battle with the guardian,” he added slyly. His suspicions confirmed, Ascilius at once began to press Elerian for every detail of his adventure, but his companion would have none of it.

 “First we must eat and then we will talk,” insisted Elerian.

“In that case, we must have something to drink with our meal,” hinted Ascilius at once.

“Prepare the food then while I satisfy my debt,” replied Elerian cheerfully. “I think that a stew would be best for Anthea and Forian in their weakened state.”

“A fine stew we will have then,” replied Ascilius as he busied himself with pots and pans and ingredients. Leaving the Dwarf to his task, Elerian went out into the rain a second time, but only after casting a shield spell over himself, watching with his third eye as a flow of golden light spilled from the fingers of his right hand to cover his entire body.

“The light is fading, but I will take the risk, for I have no more dry clothes,” Elerian thought to himself as he left the cave. It was still raining heavily, but the silvery drops sheeting down on him cascaded off the invisible barrier covering his body, leaving him warm and dry as he began to forage in the forest outside the cave. Despite the rain and the gloom Elerian’s night-wise eyes clearly revealed the gray and black world around him. He soon gathered several handfuls of edible, meaty mushrooms that he found growing at the base of a huge oak tree. As he carried his contribution to their evening meal back to the cave, Elerian spied the feathery leaves of majum growing thickly at the edge of a small forest glade and took the time to dig up several handfuls of their tasty, rounded roots, each one several inches across.
Once peeled, they could be boiled or sliced and fried.

After washing off the forest bounty that he carried in the stream that ran near the cave, Elerian brought all the edibles back to Ascilius who added them to his stew. Elerian then carried all of the company’s’ water bottles to the nearby brook, filling them to the brim with clear, cold water. Casting a transformation spell, he watched with his third eye as a small, golden orb flew from his right hand. When the sphere struck one of the water bottles, it expanded, briefly covering all of the containers with a cloak of golden light before fading away. After carrying all of the containers, which were now filled with a strong, dark beer, back to the cave, Elerian ended his shield spell before rousing all of his companions, excepting only Anthea and Forian. When they all assembled around the fire and delved into the contents of their water bottles, everyone’s mood immediately became more cheerful.

“Drink and warm food,” said Dacien to Elerian. “I never thought to enjoy either ever again when you destroyed the door to Anthea’s cell. My ears are still ringing from the noise.”

“You must expect to be blown up occasionally if you are long in Elerian’s company,” observed Ascilius sagely as he stirred his bubbling stew with a long spoon. “Calamity follows him as surely as lightning accompanies a thunderstorm.”

“I have brought you all to this happy state we now enjoy and yet your abuse is my only reward,” objected Elerian. His voice was aggrieved but there was laughter in his eyes in his gray eyes, for all the melancholy that had afflicted him since learning of Anthea’s capture had faded away at the moment she first opened her eyes.

“There is a mystery connected to that door,” Elerian admitted to Dacien and Ascilius. “I had no thought of destroying it until I heard a voice in my head advising me to do so. I thought at once of Anthea and Ascilius, for it addressed me as half-wit.”

 At that moment a light touch on Elerian’s right shoulder attracted his attention. Glancing up, he beheld Anthea standing next to him wrapped in his cloak and leaning lightly on him with her left hand. The reddish firelight which played across her fair face was not kind to her, for it starkly revealed how pale and thin she had grown during her captivity. Elerian noted with concern that while her eyes were the same deep blue that he remembered, the fire that had burned in them of old was still muted, as if a shadow lay over her.

“It was not me who spoke to you, so it must have been Ascilius,” she said to Elerian. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a gleam of laughter in her dark eyes.

“It was me,” admitted the Dwarf. “I saw you before the door in my mind, because of the ring you gave me, I think. My Dwarf commonsense instantly suggested the proper course of action for you to follow,” concluded Ascilius smugly. “Since I saved your life twice, I should get another night of beer in return,” he suggested hopefully.

“A fair exchange,” observed Anthea with a smile.

“You should be resting, not encouraging this old scoundrel to extort more spirits from me!” replied Elerian sternly, but in his heart he was secretly glad Anthea had already regained so much of her strength as to be able to stand on her own.

“Laughter is a better physic for me now than repose,” replied Anthea gravely, the shadow that lay upon her also evident in her voice.

“Sit then,” replied Elerian lightly, but inwardly he pondered over the change that had come over, wondering at its source.

“There is more at work here than the privations she suffered,” he thought worriedly to himself as he moved aside. After sitting down on his right side, Anthea leaned her head and left shoulder heavily against his chest, for she was still weak no matter how she might pretend otherwise. Taking his flask from his belt, Elerian gave her a drink from his rapidly diminishing supply of aqua vitae, resolving to make more at the first opportunity. Anthea had barely settled herself when Forian, wrapped in Dacien's cloak, also appeared at the fireside.

“Here now,” said Elerian frowning again. “Will no one heed my advice to rest on this night?”

“Laughter is a potent medicine of itself,” replied Forian gravely, his sentiments echoing those of Anthea. “I have heard none for many a year and am greedy to listen to more. I would also join your merry group if you will have me.”

“Seat yourself where you will then,” said Elerian resignedly. Forian’s dark eyes gleamed in the firelight as he settled himself across from Elerian, sitting between Triarus and Cyricus, neither of whom looked pleased to be so near to an Ancharian. All was silent at first as they ate and drank, Elerian allowing Anthea and Forian only the rich broth from the stew because of the starvation they had suffered. When they had all satisfied their appetite, Anthea began the conversation again, requesting Ascilius and Dacien to tell of all their doings since they had left Iulius, for she knew they would give a more complete account than Elerian would. All of the company listened quietly while they took turns recounting what had happened in the passageway, the valley that lay beyond its exit, and the lands of the Trolls. Dacien ended the tale by relating what had occurred during Anthea’s rescue from Tyranus. When he fell silent, all eyes turned to Anthea, for there was great curiosity among the company regarding her captivity. Wishing to spare her questions she might not wish to answer, Elerian spoke first, directing his attention to Forian.

“There is time now to tell your story if you will,” he said quietly to the Ancharian.

“The events which led to my imprisonment took place in the Abercius many years ago,” replied Forian readily enough, but his voice was filled with melancholy. “At the time I was the teacher and close companion of Eliphas, only son of Liviana, who ruled our people.”

Elerian was careful to school his features into impassivity as he pondered Forian’s first words, for he had never heard of any large group of Ancharians who lived permanently in the Abercius. His self-control was tested further when Forian continued his story.

“One day a visitor came to us from out of the north,” continued the Ancharian. “Indrawyn was her name and well I remember the day the border guards brought her before Liviana.” Elerian started slightly at the name Indrawyn and had the sudden sense of events in unexpected motion.

“Can this be the Indrawyn who was my mother?” he wondered to himself, astonishment coursing through him, for his parents had lived in the Panteras over a century ago.
“No Ancharian ever lived so long by natural means,” he thought to himself suspiciously as he opened his magical third eye and trained it on Forian. His mage sight, however, revealed no sign of any illusion spell masking the golden shade of the Ancharian. “Either he is what he says he is or there is some deeper magic here,” thought Elerian to himself as Forian resumed his tale.

“Ragged she was and worn and hungry,” continued Forian, his voice distant and wistful, as if his mind’s eye looked on the past, not the present. Even so, we knew at once that she was a Grey Elf, for she possessed a beauty beyond mortal kind as well as the dark hair and keen gray eyes of the elder race.”

“I have not heard of Gray Elves before,” interrupted Elerian.

“It is the name which my people gave to the Eirians, born of the color of their eyes,” answered Forian before continuing his tale.

“Liviana refused Indrawyn sanctuary, for she was fearful that this beautiful, ragged stranger would bring down the wrath of Torquatus on our people. Even in our remote forests, we had heard that Torquatus had sworn to slay every Eirian in the Middle Realm. Indrawyn was turned away without aid of any kind, not so much as a crust of bread or drink of water. A small company skilled in both war and woodcraft was ordered to take her east to the borders of our land and to slay her if she returned.

“She accepted the sentence proudly without tears or complaint. When the guards led her away, unbeknownst to them, Eliphas and I followed, for Indrawyn had captured the heart of my companion as she stood there so brave and fair before his mother. When the guards released her, we made ourselves known to her as soon as they were out of sight and a friendship that blossomed into love soon sprang up between her and Eliphas. Eventually, I helped the two of them build a home on the slopes of the Panteras, outside the eastern border of the lands claimed by my people.

“When Eliphas eventually sent word to his mother explaining what he had done, she ordered him to abandon Indrawyn and return home, but he refused. Liviana’s anger was so great that she exiled both Eliphas and me. Eventually, he took Indrawyn as his bride and lived with her in the fair home we had built for many years. A son whom they name Elerian was finally born to them, but the happiness that followed his birth was short lived, for in his fifth year a company of Goblins found us. 

“When they forced their way past the doorway to our home, we waged a fierce battle beneath the roots of the home oak, slaying many of them. In the end, however, we were forced to retreat, for they were too many for us to resist. Calling for Eliphas and Indrawyn to flee, I remained in the doorway to the garden, holding the Goblins at bay, but they would not leave me. When Eliphas fell wounded to the death beside me, I begged Indrawyn once more to escape into the forest with Elerian. Out of the corners of my eyes, I saw her run with her son at her side to the back wall of the garden, but instead of crossing the fence, she pushed Elerian over the wall and bade him to run. I think she intended to return to my side, but in that moment, a black creature leapt towards her from the top of the hill which formed the back wall of the garden. She must have seen it, for before it seized her, I saw her raise her sword. I looked away then, for I was being pressed hard by the Goblins who were still attempting to break through the doorway. When I looked again, Indrawyn lay on the ground with the creature crouched over her, and her life’s blood running bright red from her wounds. I fell, too, then and my sight faded after I took a blow to the head. I think that in their haste to pursue Elerian, the Goblins left me for dead, for when I awoke, I was alone.

“When I had recovered somewhat, I buried Eliphas and Indrawyn deep in the forest lest the Goblins return and despoil their bodies. Afterwards, hoping to rescue Elerian, I followed the trail of the Goblins south but slowly, for I had suffered many wounds and had lost a great deal of blood. I was also hampered by a storm which washed out all signs of their passage. The sound of hunting horns finally brought me to the northern shores of the Avius, where I saw a large company of Urucs and Mordi gathered on the southern bank of the river. Standing among them were some of the same Urucs I had fought in the home of Eliphas and Indrawyn. When they went east along the bank of the river, I swam across and followed them through the canopy. Listening unseen to their foul conversations, I heard that Elerian was dead, slain by lupins.

“Filled with thoughts of revenge now instead of rescue, I continued to follow the Goblins east, hoping for an opportunity to at least slay their leader. Before I could accomplish my purpose, however, I was discovered near Esdras by one of their leopardi and taken prisoner. Instead of slaying me, they questioned me, for they wished to know who I was and why I was following them. When my answers did not satisfy them, they imprisoned me in Tyranus, subjecting me to endless tortures in an attempt to make me talk. I think that, after a time, they forgot me, for there were many prisoners in that place. Blinded and broken, I remained there until Elerian and Dacien rescued me.”

“The account I have heard rings true in all aspects except the matter of his race,” thought Elerian to himself when Forian fell silent. “There is a mystery there or some deception which I will seek to penetrate when he and I are able to talk privately.”