Silevethiel (20 page)

“For all we know, killing Erondelthen was simply used as a diversion. The heavily forested terrain would have given the enemy a perfect opportunity to position an archer in such a way that he would remain virtually invisible to the preoccupied Dame. As Silevethiel bounded towards the hapless elf, the marksman would have had ample time to shoot. Depending on the potency of the substance in the arrowhead, combined with the amount administered, the lioness would have been unconscious before her head hit the ground. There would have been no time for her to send a warning even if she had wanted to.”

“Father,” Laegon said cautiously, “suppose we were to give Elthad his prize? Suppose we gave him Irewen?”

The elf lord’s light olive skin turned as pale as the winter snow. “You would sacrifice Irewen’s life to bring Silevethiel back to Silverden?”

“Of course not!” Laegon could barely control the anger in his voice. “I simply mean to let him think his plan worked. Let him believe she has become so distraught by the Guardian’s disappearance that she snuck away from our protection and recklessly pursued Silevethiel on her own.”

Brandir raised an eyebrow, his thin lips spreading in to a mischievous grin. “Tell me more.”

THE POUNDING OF THE STALLION’S HOOVES reverberated through Irewen’s head like thunder. The powerful warhorse galloped through the dense woods, and she instinctively leaned forward, lightening herself in the saddle. The horse’s movements quickened. She matched his rhythm, allowing her body to become one with the mighty animal.

She’d been riding for nearly three hours. The soft morning light was finally beginning to peek through the forest canopy, warming her cheeks as it pushed away the bitter night air. Impatience growing in her heart, Irewen urged the stallion forward, knowing her destination was only a short distance away.

After Laegon’s insistence that she focus her attention on regaining her strength and preparing for her journey to Lündvelle, the prince’s later change of heart caught her completely off guard. Four days had passed since she’d readily agreed to join in the Wood Elves’ efforts to rescue Silevethiel. It had been all she could do to keep her sanity. Unable to think of anything but leaving for the western country of Grelden, Irewen hardly took notice during the intense planning sessions. Realizing her mind was elsewhere, Laegon and his father decided to keep her role in the Dame’s rescue as straightforward as possible.

Her instructions were simple. Leave for Grelden in the small hours of the morning, seemingly alone, and draw out the enemy. The rest of Silevethiel’s fate was in the hands of others.

Almost thirty Protectors and their Guardians, accompanied by forty elven warriors, had set out with Irewen from Silverden. Her companions had changed course almost an hour earlier; she’d been vaguely aware of their departure when they gradually disappeared into the bowels of Mistwood. Only now, after realizing she was alone, did she begin to feel the first tendrils of fear.

She shuddered at the speculation of what dangers she was willingly running towards and suddenly wished she’d mustered a greater amount of concentration during the meetings. It would have been at least somewhat reassuring to know the general outline of the plan the elves devised. She had no idea where Laegon and the others had gone or what she was to do when the enemy showed themselves.

Would she be injured? Captured? Surely the elves would intervene before she was killed. All she could do was continue on to Grelden and trust that the others would not allow her to come to harm.

The distant hooting of an owl making its final flight before daybreak pulled Irewen from her thoughts. She peered ahead, ignoring the stinging as strands of her raven hair whipped mercilessly against her frozen cheeks. The towering evergreens of Mistwood were beginning to thin, replaced with stout trees barren of all vegetation save for a few shriveled leaves desperately clinging to the thin branches. She breathed nervously, not daring to look anywhere but straight ahead. She was nearing the eastern border of Grelden.

Entering the neighboring country had been the extent of her instruction. She hadn’t been given a specific location to reach or a direction in which to aim. All Laegon had told her to do was make her way to Grelden as fast as her horse would take her. When she’d questioned what to do once she reached her destination, his answer had been short and chilling.
“
Keep running.
”

Vaguely recalling Lord Brandir mention something about keeping her patterns sporadic, she figured that was the best action to take. After all, her part in the exercise was to convince Elthad that she was frantically searching for her lost Guardian.

Pulling on the reins, she guided the stallion to the left, pleased with the fluidity of his response. Of course, she shouldn’t have expected anything less than perfection from the steed. He was Lord Brandir’s. The fastest and most skilled war horse in all of Mistwood. Given to her, she now suspected, to allow her to remain safely out of the enemy’s reach. It would take an exceptional animal to outrun Melldren.

«Ire...wen.»

Irewen abruptly brought the stallion to a halt.
«Silevethiel!»
She looked over her shoulder, wildly searching for the Dame.
«Silevethiel! Where are you? What happened? Were you harmed?»

«Keep...running, Irewen. Do not look back.»

«Silevethiel! What is going on? Are you all right?»

«I will be...fine.»

«Where are you? I can help! Tell me...»

«RUN!»

Irewen started, agitated by the ferocity in the lioness’s voice. Sensing her alarm, Melldren snorted, his body tensing in anticipation of danger. When she made no effort to continue their flight, the great horse snorted again, encouraging her to make for the south as he anxiously tugged his head to the left.

For the first time, Irewen heard the distant pounding of horses’ hooves. Considering Melldren’s agitated demeanor, she knew it was not Lord Brandir and the others. It was the enemy. And the gap separating them was rapidly closing.

Silevethiel’s desperate warning echoed through her mind. She dug her legs into the warhorse’s sides. He immediately broke into a gallop. Heading due south, he swiftly carried her through the barren forests of Grelden. She ignored her mounting fear as, like before, she moved her body in sync with the steed. Despite Melldren’s unparalleled speed, Elthad’s men were gaining ground.

She lifted herself in the saddle. “Naralé!” she screamed, though the animal needed no further encouragement. Somehow he managed to quicken his pace, but Irewen knew it wouldn’t be enough. The sound of the enemy’s approach continued to grow louder. She shook her head in disbelief. She supposed it was probable that one or even two horses would be able to outrun Melldren. But an entire group? How was it possible?

It wasn’t. That was the problem. It wasn’t possible, at least by normal standards. Irewen shivered. What other devilry was her cousin utilizing? Would even the combined efforts of all four elven races be enough to stand against him?

«Silevethiel...»

«Run, Irewen. Do not concern yourself with anything else.»

«I am running! Melldren is the fastest steed in all of Mistwood. He is far superior to any horse in Dargon. He cannot go any faster. I dare not attempt to push him harder!»

«I agree. You could not be riding a better horse. Do not push him past his capabilities. He will guide you safely.»

«But you do not understand! Despite Melldren’s remarkable skill, the enemy is steadily gaining ground. They will be upon me in less than an hour.»

«Are you certain?»
The Dame’s voice was chillingly quiet.

«Aye. Melldren would not have displayed such agitation if it was Lord Brandir and the others who were our pursuers. The sound of the enemy’s advance has continued to grow in intensity. It is not the sound of two or three. There are many. Although my skill with the short sword has greatly improved, I do not yet have the advanced strength or ability to defend myself against even one Drulaack. I have no idea what Laegon and his father planned, and I cannot begin to speculate how close they are to me or the enemy. If help does not arrive soon, I will not live to see another sunset!»

«Keep calm, Irewen,»
Silevethiel replied soothingly, transferring some of her energy to the young Protector.
«Continue to head in your current southerly direction, but guide Melldren slightly to your left. Return to Mistwood.»

Irewen quickly did as she was told, relieved to notice a slight increase in the warhorse’s gait. It seemed as though returning to his homeland was providing him with renewed amounts of energy. Honestly, she didn’t care what caused him to gallop faster as long as he continued to discover hidden reserves of energy.

«I have done as you asked,»
she replied once Melldren was firmly set on his new course.

«Good. There is a western watchtower about an hour’s ride from your present location. I will notify the Guardians stationed there and will have them and their Protectors come to your aid. Brégen and Raina will also be notified of the situation and will pass the information to the rest of their party. I have been following you since I regained consciousness and am gaining ground. Hopefully the superior speed of us Guardians will outmatch that of the enemy.

«All you must do is focus on reaching the watchtower. I will make sure you stay on course. When you see the forces from the tower, do not stop or alter your pace. Allow them to pass you and continue towards the enemy. I do not want you to get caught in the fighting. Do not stop running until you are safely inside the tower walls. Do you understand?»

«Yes.»

«Good. Do not worry, Irewen. I am here.»

Irewen smiled despite the near crippling terror building in her chest.
«Thank you.»

«And Irewen...»

«Yes?»

«Ride hard. Do not look back.»

It hadn’t taken long for Laegon to realize that their carefully laid out plans had gone seriously awry. Two hours after their departure from Silverden, the group of fighters chosen to rescue Silevethiel had split into four smaller parties. Laegon, along with three others blessed with a strong Sight, had taken leadership of their previously assigned groups, guiding them in separate directions.

The intention was for each group to move methodically, yet swiftly, through their respective areas while the leaders used their Sight to search for a hostile presence. Dividing the responsibility between four of them would not only make for a quicker search, but it would also prevent a single elf from being too heavily drained when the time came to fight. Once Elthad’s men were found, the other three parties would be alerted and would converge upon the enemy, pinning them between the elven parties as they advanced upon them from all sides.

When the strategy was decided upon, Brandir had suggested for Irewen to stay behind, remaining safely within the protective borders of Silverden. But Laegon had been quick to remind him that it would be much less taxing on the four leaders if they were searching for a moving target. It was extremely apparent that the enemy had no intention of moving. Irewen was the motivation they needed. The others had voiced their agreement; eying his son skeptically, the elf lord had simply nodded.

In truth, Laegon had wanted nothing more than to leave Irewen in the safety of the city. The reasoning he’d presented in response to his father’s suggestion was not all that had swayed his mind. His heart told him that Irewen had a critical role to play before the end. Without her, they would not emerge victorious.

Shaking his head, Laegon once again pondered over the events that’d transpired since the party split into their respective groups, abandoning Irewen to enter Grelden with nothing but Melldren’s unparalleled speed to see her to safety.

As planned, Laegon’s band turned to the west in order to enter Grelden near where Erondelthen’s body was discovered. He’d called upon his Sight as he and he fellow warriors neared the border. It didn’t take long for him to sense the menacing presence of the Drulaack. Quickly closing his mind against the evil, he’d raised his wards to protect himself from the demonic probing of the enemy and told the Guardians and other members of his party blessed with Sight to do the same. Despite the shields’ protection, he was still able to sense the enemy’s movements and immediately directed his company to the south while Brégen notified the other three parties.

As soon as they’d taken up the chase, Laegon knew their horses would never be able to outrun the incredible pace of the Drulaack. Brégen suggested taking advantage of the Guardians’ speed by sending them ahead of the elven warriors. Laegon rejected the idea immediately, not wanting to divide his group even further. But Brégen reminded him that their party was in the best position to catch Irewen’s hunters. If they weren’t able to reach the enemy in time, none of the others would be able to do so either. Irewen would die. By separating, there was a better chance that the princess’s life would be saved.

That had been all Laegon needed to hear to change his mind. With a sickening fear that he’d never before experienced, he sent the seven Guardians ahead of their elven companions.

That, of course, didn’t mean he and the other elves had ended their chase. Determined not to let the Guardians fight alone for too long, they barreled through the sparse land, pushing their horses as hard as they dared. At first, things miraculously seemed to be moving in their favor. Despite the unbelievable swiftness of the enemy, the Guardians were slowly gaining ground. Even the horses were able to find some extra speed.

Doubting that the Drulaack’s devilry could allow them to outrun Melldren, Laegon maintained every confidence that the war horse would keep Irewen safely ahead of her pursuers. For a brief amount of time, Laegon had pushed some of his concerns aside, replacing them with the cautious expectation that they would succeed.

Then came news from Brégen that caused Laegon’s world to cave in around him, suffocating him with oppressive hopelessness. Melldren had finally met his match. The warhorse was slowly losing his lead.

Now they were not simply in a race of speed. They were in a race against time—Irewen’s life the prize.

Laegon gritted his teeth, urging Silwen to move even faster. Already at her limit, the mare snorted her disapproval, but somehow found the strength to obey. Feeling her muscles shake from the effort, Laegon swore under his breath. He was furious with himself for being so inconsiderate of the valiant animal’s health. She’d already exceeded his expectations. If he forced her to continue at such a dangerous pace, he would lead her to her death. Though the thought of Irewen dying at the hands of the Drulaack made him want to push Silwen even harder, he could ask nothing more from the noble animal

With a defeated sigh, he slowed her to a more comfortable gallop and motioned for the others in his party to do the same. He could feel the collective sense of relief from both horse and rider as everyone gratefully matched Silwen’s more reasonable pace. Irewen’s fate rested in the hands of the Guardians. For what seemed to be the hundredth time, Laegon regretted that he hadn’t followed his father’s suggestion.