The Elven (58 page)

Letter to the High Priest:

Report on the Campaign in Angnos and in the Aegilien Sea

V
enerable Father Therdavan, keeper of the faith on Earth, appointed at Tjured’s hand, in his wisdom.

In accordance with your wishes, I send you news concerning the activities in Angnos and the Aegilien Sea. As we have found everywhere our mission takes us, we face two difficulties.

The first is that the places sacred to us have been defiled by the Albenfolk. Many among them are willing to fight to the death, as would anyone who fights for their house and home. But with our superior strategy and the spirit of self-sacrifice of our knights, we have never yet lost a battle. There are no more than a handful of places that we have to lay siege to for a long time, until we break through to the other side and free the soil destined for our god alone from the demonic Albenfolk. May Tjured curse the Alben!

The second hazard to our plans are the unbelievers, all those who pray to other gods. Tjured be praised, the terrible cult of Balbar has been exterminated. Your visions were in accord with the truth. In the catacombs of Iskendria, we found the stone heart of the cult. Balbar was no more than a stone spirit brought to life by the Albenfolk.

The cult of Arkassa fell once the people saw the miracles of Tjured. Your decision to pull the high priests back from the siege of the Albenstars and instead to show the population of Angnos the power of Tjured wiped out the Arkassa cult once and for all.

There is only one thing that causes me concern. At this moment, it must be said, one does not perceive it as a great danger, but it may well grow to present a real problem. From many points around the Aegilien Sea, news has reached me that elven warriors on horseback have been desecrating our fanes. Just yesterday, a message reached me that the temple in Zeilidos had been burned. We have also lost a number of the ships that were to make the voyage to Iskendria. The survivors reported that they were attacked by elves. So far, these events have been mere pinpricks. But from this resistance, which for now can be said to be inflicting only minimal damage, a large-scale rebellion could grow.

It is not my intention to claim that the armies of Albenmark are slowly beginning to move, but I fear that the Albenfolk who dwell in the holy places have found out that sooner or later, we plan to move against them. It may also be that the elves plundering on horseback are refugees from liberated shrines.

Finally, I would like to draw your attention to a piece of intelligence obtained by our spies. They have discovered that the Drusnians are, in fact, preparing for war again. They seem to assume that you could turn your attention to them next. Their attempt to foment a rebellion in Angnos failed. It is true that there have been reports of elves journeying from Angnos to Drusna, but these have not been sufficiently verified. You asked for my counsel, and I would give it thus: let the Drusnians prepare for war. In the meantime, we will reinforce our fortifications in the mountains of Angnos. Until now, we have always been the ones to attack, and we have never been defeated. But in Drusna, the tide almost turned against us. It was a very wise decision not to risk a confrontation in the forests there and to order the retreat in time. If that had not happened, our army would have suffered the same fate as once befell Saint Romuald. We can only defeat the Drusnians if we break their power on our own soil. Then we have everything open to us. Let them be the aggressor and we the defender. They will run their feet raw on the flinty hillsides. As for the Northmen from the Fjordlands, I see no danger from that quarter. They are mindless barbarians and have no allies. When the time comes, the Fjordlands will fall to us like ripe fruit from a tree
.

E
XTRACT FROM A
L
ETTER FROM
G
ILOM OF
S
ELESCAR,
P
RINCE OF THE
B
ROTHERHOOD, TO
T
HERDAVAN,
S
UPREME
R
ULER OF THE
B
ROTHERHOOD,
H
IGH
P
RIEST OF THE
T
JURED

The Forests of Drusna

F
rom Iskendria, Nuramon and his companions followed an Albenpath they had traveled before to the western parts of Angnos, intending to go overland from there to Drusna. In this way, they avoided the humans and their settlements and stayed far away from villages and towns and the roads that crossed the mountains. Finally, they made their way deep into the woods of Drusna.

The forest seemed to go on forever. Rarely did they come across a clearing. The region reminded Nuramon of the forests of Galvelun, through which he had once traveled, for now, as then, they had to be on their guard against wolves. Fortunately, they had seen here no sign of the brown dragons that existed in Galvelun. Mandred claimed that there were dragons in the human world, but Nuramon doubted it was true, particularly because the stories the jarl told of them sounded more than a little dubious.

They had been traveling through a section of forest for some days already. The place had once been the scene of a major battle. They had found rusted helmets and shield mountings, swords and spears. In places, shattered armor and human bones were piled on boulders, forming grim altars.

While Farodin, as usual, took the lead, Yulivee was the only one on horseback. She liked Felbion, and the horse seemed to have taken a liking to the girl in return. For Yulivee, the journey was one long adventure. She observed every animal and every plant with a curiosity that amazed even Nuramon.

“Are we there yet?” she asked for what must have been the fiftieth time that day.

Mandred grinned. He had probably just been asking himself the same question. After all, at midday the day before, Farodin had said that they would reach the place his magic was drawing them to by sundown the next day. But then the new day had dawned and they had found themselves in a damp patch of forest flanked by large marshes.

Farodin ignored the child’s question.

So Nuramon turned to Yulivee. “Every time you ask, it’s going to take an extra day.”

The girl fell silent.

“This place is starting to feel very strange,” Mandred muttered. “Wolves? Fine. We’ll tan their hides for them. But these stinking swamps . . . We’re all going to get sucked into some bottomless mudhole.”

Farodin sighed. He was obviously losing his patience. He started to walk faster, wanting to put a little distance between himself and the others.

“If you’re worried, you should ride your mare,” said Nuramon quietly to Mandred. “She won’t put a foot wrong.”

The jarl didn’t need to be told twice and mounted up.

Nuramon, meanwhile, strode ahead to Farodin. He wanted to ask him what the matter was, because the elf had never led him on a false trail, but in the past few days, something seemed to have been confusing him. Perhaps he sensed another grain of sand not far away. Or something was interfering with the seeking spell he was using to track down the crown.

“What’s going on?” Nuramon asked when he caught up with him.

“I hadn’t counted on these swamps. But there’s—” Farodin jerked his head around and looked back.

“What is it?”

The elf calmed himself and shook his head. Then he rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “Something flashed just now. It obstructed my spell.” He pointed into the marshlands on their right. “I can see the trail over there. It’s like a track left by an animal. But something about it isn’t right. It isn’t clear enough. And I’m constantly getting the sensation that there’s a grain of sand somewhere around here.”

“Maybe in a hollow in the swamp?”

“No, it’s been happening for days, almost as if the wind has been blowing it along through the forest. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we were being followed.”

“I’ll sort it out,” said Nuramon, and he returned to Mandred and Yulivee.

Mandred nodded, but Yulivee took hardly any notice of him at all. She was busy holding her little fist up to her eye.

Nuramon already had a suspicion. He moved around to Felbion’s side. “What have you got there?” he asked Yulivee.

The girl lowered her arm, but held her hand closed. “Nothing,” she answered.

“You’ve got something in your hand.”

“Just a little glowworm.”

Nuramon could only laugh. “I think I know that kind of glowworm. Farodin!”

The little elf pursed her lips and seemed to be considering what she ought to do. Then Farodin was with them again.

“Open your hand,” said Nuramon to Yulivee.

The girl did as he asked.

“Nothing,” said Mandred breezily.

But Nuramon saw the tiny grain of sand lying on her palm. “A very little glowworm indeed,” he said.

Farodin seemed more perplexed than angry. “You? You did that?” he asked and shook his head. “Did you take a grain of sand from the bottle?”

“No, no,” Yulivee quickly said. “I didn’t steal anything.”

“Well, where else could you have gotten it?” Farodin pressed.

“Remember the night when you left the camp because you could feel a grain of sand? Well, I snuck out, too. And I was faster than you,” the girl responded.

“She’s a crafty one,” said Farodin. “She serves up a little fib, something she only has to say she’s sorry for, just to hide something worse.”

“I never stole anything,” Yulivee repeated. “Count your grains of sand again if you want to.”

“Am I supposed to believe you found that grain? How did you do it?” Farodin asked.

Yulivee grinned cheekily. “I can do magic. Or did you already forget?”

Then Nuramon said, “But who taught you the seeking spell?”

“Farodin did,” Yulivee answered.

“I did not,” Farodin replied testily.

Nuramon tipped his head to one side. “Tell the truth, Yulivee.”

Mandred patted the girl lightly on the shoulder. “I believe our little sorceress.”

Tears welled in Yulivee’s eyes. “I’m sorry. Here.” She held out the grain of sand to Farodin. It floated into his hand. Then he took out the little bottle and let the grain drop into it.

The tears flowed over Yulivee’s cheeks. “I just wanted to find something, too, so I watched how you did the spell.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes, and then I made it so Farodin couldn’t see the sand anymore. I only wanted to look at it. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop crying, Yulivee,” Farodin said gently. “I’m the one who should say sorry to you. I accused you unfairly of being a thief.”

“The little one’s left you with egg on your face, my friends. And for that, Yulivee, you can come hunting with me a bit later.”

Yulivee was smiling again. “Really?”

“Of course. Only if it’s all right with Nuramon,” Mandred replied.

“Can I?” she begged. “Oh, please let me go hunting!”

“If you stay close to Mandred, I guess it’s all right,” Nuramon answered.

Yulivee squealed with glee.

Farodin and Nuramon, bemused, went ahead again. When they were out of earshot of the others, Farodin said, “The girl has a gift. By the Alben. How can she simply mimic a spell like that?”

“She’s the daughter of a sorceress. Her mother’s name was Hildachi, and she came from the Diliskar clan, which makes her a direct descendant of the first Yulivee. Magic is strong in her line. And the djinn taught her, too. He warned me not to underestimate her,” Nuramon said.

“She would be an excellent pupil for Noroelle,” said Farodin, with a little melancholy in his voice. “Once we have the crown and return to Noroelle’s gate, her little hands may be a great help to us.”

“Have you forgotten the pain? I don’t want her to suffer anything like that. Once we’ve got the Albenstone, I will be happy to wait and let Yulivee decide for herself if she wants to help us with the magic we need.”

Farodin did not reply. He looked straight ahead. “We’re here. Just up ahead. It has to be beside that beech tree.”

As they approached the tree, Nuramon thought about how quickly this could all be over once they found the crown and the fire opal. They would learn to master the stone and then they would finally be able to free Noroelle.

They reached the tree, which stood surrounded by pale grass at the edge of a swampy hollow.

“Here it is,” Farodin announced as he gazed down into the muddy water. “But something isn’t right.”

“Is it in there?” Mandred asked, pointing into the hollow. “We can use my rope. We just have to draw straws to see who gets dirty.”

“Me!” Yulivee yelped.

“Not on your life,” Nuramon shot back.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, because you won’t find the fire opal down there,” said the little elf.

Nuramon smiled. “And how does our precocious youngster know that?”

Farodin touched Nuramon’s arm. “She’s right. The crown isn’t here.”

“What?” said Nuramon. “Then what trail have we been following?”

Farodin ran one hand over his face. “I’m a fool.”

Mandred spoke up. “Would someone let me in on whatever crap you’re cooking up here?”

“I don’t think I can answer your question with the same elegance with which you asked it, Mandred,” said Farodin. “But the crown is not here. Here . . .” He lifted his hands despairingly. “Imagine you press your axe into mud and take it out again. It will leave an imprint of itself behind. It’s like that here. The crown lay in this hollow for a very long time. It left behind an indelible impression in the magical fabric of the world. This impression is so strong that I, with my seeking spell, thought I was following the crown itself.” Farodin closed his eyes briefly. “There are two magical trails leading away from here. We followed one of them to come here, and it has nearly faded away, but the other is still fresh.” He pointed ahead. “We have to follow the new trail. Then we’ll find the crown.”

“Why haven’t the djinns found the crown already if it leaves a trail?” asked Yulivee.

Farodin smiled. “It might be that elven eyes can see some things that are hidden even from the djinns. They should have asked for help in their search.” He was already moving off along the new path, and he waved to the others to follow him.

Nuramon set off next. Though Farodin made little fuss about his talents as a seeker, Nuramon was certain no other could have led them to this place. He would have given a great deal to have Farodin’s level of skill. Nuramon had spent a long time working on the seeking spell himself but had not even mastered the basics, so it surprised him even more that Yulivee had managed it so easily.

Farodin stopped in his tracks and pointed to a large, ivy-covered boulder ahead of them in a clearing. It took a moment before Nuramon realized what Farodin was pointing out. He had been so lost in thought that he had become blind to the change in the magic of the forest. In the clearing, six Albenpaths crossed. Nuramon began the gate spell, but he did it without wanting to create a gate. He wanted to take a closer look at the paths that formed the Albenstar. In moments, he was completely attuned to the magic. And what he saw horrified him. All of the paths glowed with a pale light: all of them had been recently created.

“The crown’s trail . . . it ends here,” said Farodin, his voice faltering.

“No,” Nuramon cried, letting the Albenstar fade again. It was not possible. They were so close to finding the opal, and now it was gone? “Someone must have got their hands on the crown, brought it here, and then used the stone to create an Albenstar.”

“There’s something else,” Farodin added, his voice low and dejected. “The crown, or rather the fire opal, left behind a magical pattern. That was the trail we’ve been following this far. I can’t find that pattern in any of the paths here. They’re different.”

“What do you mean?” Nuramon asked.

“These Albenpaths have nothing to do with the opal in the crown. I can recognize with which Albenstone a path has been drawn. These are different than the magical pattern of the crown in the same way that fire differs from water.”

“So this Albenstar was not created using the crown? You’re certain?” Nuramon asked.

“Yes.”

“Then someone came this far using an Albenstone, took the crown, and vanished again.” Someone was apparently collecting Albenstones. What power would be concentrated in the hands of whoever it was? “If they possess the fire opal, and with it the library of the djinns, then they have the knowledge of the past, the present, and the future. Is that it? Is that how the Tjured priests from Fargon learned to use magic?”

Mandred and Yulivee said nothing. Farodin answered, “That would explain how they know anything at all about the Albenstars. I think we have no other choice . . . We have to follow one of the paths.”

“Can I choose?” Yulivee asked quietly.

“Which one would you take?” Farodin replied.

The girl thought it over then pointed to the east. “Fargon’s that way, isn’t it?”