The Revenge of the Elves (30 page)

Chapter Forty-one

A dwarf, an elf and a human boy together on the road. An uncommon sight. The fabric weaves…

“Tomas, you’re still so sad,” Preston sensed his mood. His horse nickered and blew out air as he pulled on the girth. Since they bid farewell to Queen Esta and Stephanie outside the walls of Avalain, and Tomas met with Ormachon, they had hardly talked. Tomas was quiet. Too quiet.

“Is it that obvious?” He kept his eyes on his horse’s bobbing head and waited for the others to mount.

“Yes, it is,” Preston replied. “Did you learn what you needed to from Ormachon?” He finally asked. He’d been wanting to since they started on the road again. Tomas was silent. “Was it as hard as you anticipated?” Preston questioned. “You know, to speak with him after so long?”

“We’ve reached an understanding.” Tomas’ arms slackened, the reins flopped against his horse’s mane. “Ormachon did what he had to do. He told me that and I believed him. Revealing my location was a risk he felt he had to take.”

“And you forgive him?” Preston asked. He felt a sting in his throat.

“His decision was hard for him to make, hard for me to reconcile. I’m just one. He thinks differently than we do.”

Preston stiffened and swung his leg over the saddle.

“What of the bond Tomas? Is it still strong between the two of you?” Elion’s voice was gentle.

The loneliness in Tomas’ face was clear, almost like a smile. He hesitated for a moment, words waiting to be said. “I understand it differently now.” He wasn’t talking to them. He was talking to himself.

“What do you think Gwendolen will be like?” Preston asked, changing the subject. “Has anyone been there since Cinmarra fell?” He clicked the animal on.

“I suspect some scavengers and vagabonds have,” Elion said. “There’ll be little left any of us will recognize.” He kept his eyes on Tomas. The mention of Gwendolen sparked his interest.

“I was a newborn when they sent me away,” Tomas said. “If I had any memories of the place they wouldn’t be pleasant ones, I imagine.”

“How was it you and your brother were separated, Tomas? No one ever told me.” Preston managed to make even the hardest questions seem natural, easy, though Elion flushed.

“I have no problem talking about it,” he sensed Elion’s discomfort. “I don’t blame the King and Queen for doing what they did.” He called them the King and Queen, not mother and father. “I was raised by my Aunt and Uncle. They had no children of their own, and I was a son to them. I loved them and they loved me.” His face softened. “Though they told me who I was, of my heritage, it was like listening to a story about someone else. I never wished for a different life.”

“So why did your real parents send you away?” Preston asked again.

The road thinned and the row of trees that was beyond the fences now lined them. The drainage ditches disappeared and the road itself was worn and broken the further from Avalain they traveled.

“I wasn’t expected to live very long. They left me in the Spiritwood to die.” The way he said it made it sound mysterious, not frightening. “I was born with a disease no one believed I could survive. They were worried that if I stayed in the castle, or even the city itself, that my brother might also become infected with it.” Tomas’ voice wavered.
My brother. The heir.

“But of course you didn’t die,” Elion said, his eyes on Tomas’ face. He’d heard the story many times from his mother, but knowing Tomas, changed its meaning.

“No. I didn’t.” His thoughts clung tight to his head like steam above a simmering pot. “The trees succored me and, eventually, Trevor and Safira found me and took me in.”

“Did they know who you were?” Preston asked.

“Yes. Though only a few knew of my birth at the time.”
So few know the truth. Elion? You do.
“ Mira advised them at some point. She was my brother’s guardian. She cast him from Gwendolen in the final hours.” He spoke as if he was there, dreamy-eyed.

“In fact, Preston, Davmiran is named after her. Baladar saw to that!” Elion added.

“What was his name before?” Preston asked.

“Marcus,” Elion answered. “But he doesn’t remember. Mira cleared his mind of all he knew before the casting. He’s Davmiran dar Gwendolen now.”

“It’s better that way,” Tomas said, pensive still. Minutes. Just minutes between us. It’s better.

“You were the lucky one then,” Preston said.

Tomas looked at him with a delayed smiled. “I guess so,” he paused. “As a child, it all seemed unimportant. My aunt and uncle were careful about what they revealed and when. Pardeau was a small town. The heir to the kingdom of Gwendolen wouldn’t have fit in too well there.”
The heir. Elion knows, why doesn’t he mention it? My brother… he’ll find the Gem.

Preston leaned back, thinking. He’d never fit in too well anywhere, either. “Who killed them, Tomas?”

“I don’t know,” his eyes sharpened. “Cairn of Thermaye had just arrived, and I was with Ormachon and him when it happened. We didn’t have time… we didn’t know.” He cocked his head to the side. “Calyx sensed the trouble first and Cairn followed him back to the house, but he was too late. They were already dead. Cairn buried them, and then I found the ring. It was there all along and I must have known that somehow.” He sounded surprised, like he was thinking about this for the first time. “I never even had the chance to say goodbye.”

“If you never saw the sunshine, then you wouldn’t mind the rain quite so much.” Preston couldn’t help himself.

“But it would be rain nonetheless,” Tomas spoke softly, as if to himself.

“When they realized you weren’t sick anymore, why didn’t they send you back home?” Preston asked.

Distracted, Tomas flapped the reins against his horse’s neck. He didn’t reply.

“When your brother was born, the entire world knew about it,” Elion stepped in. “The birth of the heir to the Gwendolen throne was not something to be taken lightly. Had someone come along later making claims about another heir…” Elion stopped himself short. “It was better nothing was known about you at all.”

“Were you ever really sick, Tomas?” Preston had something on his mind. “If your aunt and uncle knew about you and were prepared to find and raise you, perhaps this was all planned. Maybe your being sick was just a way to keep you safe all these years. If no one knew of your existence, then no one could hurt you.” He looked off into the distance, anxious. “And Ormachon just happened to reside near your aunt and uncle’s home. A coincidence?” He smirked. “What if…” Preston’s mind was flying. “What if your brother had died with the rest of your family, no one would have known you existed, that an heir was still alive.”

Tomas didn’t flinch. He sat and listened, but he didn’t respond.

“Davmiran’s alive Preston,” Elion cut in. “They’re both alive.”

“But…” Preston wouldn’t give up the thought.

“What are we hoping to find in Gwendolen?” Elion glared at Preston.

“A clue. An answer maybe,” Tomas responded, his face blank, unreadable. “There’s a page that was torn from the Tomes. Ormachon believes I’ll be able to read it with the help of the ring. He told me to go home. To find it.”

“Has it been a secret until now?” Preston asked. “Ormachon never mentioned it before?”

“No,” he replied, his voice hardly audible. “I didn’t have the ring. I needed the ring…”
The Tomes. The prophesies. If I had died then. If Colton had found me when Ormachon…

Elion saw Tomas sway in his saddle. He reached over and steadied him and Tomas jumped at the touch. “You have a lot to think about,” he said, trying to keep him calm. He hoped not too much. He was only a boy after all. “Gwendolen’s a long way from here. It’s going to take us more than a week to get there no matter what we do. We’re going to have to stop somewhere on the way and there aren’t too many options.” But there was one. “There’s a town called Tallon we should reach in two days ride. I think we should head for it.”

Tomas stared right through him. His eyes dilated. He began to move his lips, then stopped.

“We used to go there in the summers ages ago,” Elion continued, worried. “My mother visited the wells for their healing waters. It’s the town where the Lalas sing.”

At the mention of Elsinestra, Tomas’ face relaxed. “Tallon,” he repeated the name aloud. “It’s where Ormachon goes for nourishment and to share with the others. The waters there do more than heal.”
Give to the child what he has come here to borrow….

“It’s a place of power. The Chamber of the Roots is a sacred site.” His mother revered the wells. They welcomed her.

“We should stop there,” Tomas said but his voice wasn’t his own. “Ormachon didn’t say anything. He didn’t tell me.” He dropped the reins and his horse veered off the path. He saw the roots reaching out, the darkness.

“Tomas?” Preston called to him but he couldn’t hear. The music in his mind drowned out everything around him.

Chapter Forty-two

The crosses were everywhere, slathered on doorways, wicked symbols bleeding down the faces of the homes. The guards kept their eyes forward as they led their captives down a winding street. A forbidding circular structure loomed before them, three stories of gray stone in the middle of the square, ringed by pillories and shackles hammered into the roughly carved blocks. They stopped before the studded wooden door.

The leader of the group dismounted. One of his men scrambled toward him to take the loose reins of his horse. He reached under his cape and withdrew a heavy brass circle, hung with keys. Shoving one into the keyhole, he pushed the door open.

“Bring them inside,” he spat and disappeared into the darkness beyond. A musty hall led to a stone stairway winding into the shadows above. “Take them to my office,” the leader’s disembodied voice echoed. Torchlight flickered in the windowless corridor.

At sword-point they were shoved into a stuffy, high-ceilinged room and lined up against the wall facing a broad desk. “Leave us,” the leader barked from the chair behind it. He placed a sword on the surface before him, his hand clasping the hilt. The room trembled as the door slammed shut, followed by the clank of chains securing it from the outside.

“Sit,” he said, releasing his hold on the weapon. It lay in the middle of the table. Premoran stepped forward and sat in one of the chairs facing him, motioning for the others to follow. The captain stood up and walked to Alemar. Giles stiffened. He lifted her chin with his fingers and pushed the hood off of her head. She looked at him, defiant. Giles eyes followed his movements and his nostrils flared. “You haven’t lost your touch,” he said to Premoran.

“I see you have not lost yours either, Clifford d’Armusan!” the wizard replied and rose to embrace him.

“My apologies for the ruse,” he said to Alemar and Giles. “I thought you might leap from your chair and strangle me for a moment,” Clifford said to Giles. He and Teetoo clasped hands as he spoke.

“It’s good to see you again,” the Weloh said.

“Likewise, my friend. I only wish the circumstances were better.” He returned to his chair. “That was quite an accomplishment, releasing him from his brother’s chains,” he said, the admiration obvious. “I had heard there were four of you, though, who went to the rescue. I expected five at the gates.”

Alemar stared at the stone floor and Giles leaned toward her, his hand upon hers.

“We lost one in the dungeons of Sedahar,” Teetoo explained.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Clifford replied. He gave them a terse shake of the head. “I’ve lost many good men and women these past weeks.”

“The wolves are gathering everywhere. We’ve been unable to shake them. Tell us what you know, Clifford,” Premoran said, without waiting another minute. “What has been happening on the borders of Lormarion?”

“Nothing good,” he related. “Colton dispatched one of his Forsaken here three weeks ago. She’s created only hardship for the people. Now, Marion, as she calls herself, has demanded from the townsfolk three hundred soldiers within the next five days. Not only does the Dark Lord want healthy ones, but he wants them young, under the age of fifteen. He wants the children.”

“We saw the crooked signs on the doorways,” Teetoo said.

“Yes. Those are the ones who have already been taken. Marion sent most of them off right away except for the few she keeps for her own pleasure,” he glowered and looked to the small window. “I’ve been unable to do much to help them.” His eyes met Premoran’s. “You must be very careful when you leave here to stay out of her sight. She’s unstable,” he breathed heavily. “Her anger is uncontrollable. She cares not about innocence and guilt. Keep away from her!” he warned again. “Fate can have a cruel heart. I wouldn’t have any of you dead on the streets of a town such as this! We have enough of our own to bury.” Two fingers massaged his forehead.

“You’ve developed sympathies for the people here?” Premoran questioned, pinching his chin.

“They’re human,” he replied, looking away. “Mothers weep, fathers mourn.”

“They proclaimed their allegiance many moons ago,” Premoran reminded him. “They made their choice.”

“Choice?” Clifford asked, his voice bitter. “Was it a choice?” He paused. “I haven’t forgotten why I’m here. Don’t worry. I won’t risk my cover.” He understood the importance of maintaining it. He’d be of no use to Premoran otherwise and more would suffer in the end.

“What else have you seen?” the wizard asked.

“A week ago, a few of the townsmen brought back the bodies of two trackers killed in the woods a half-day’s ride to the south. They found them tangled up in the brambles, left for the birds. Their bodies were a mess and it was hard to gain much information from the corpses, but when Marion saw them she went into a rage. No doubt she knew who they were and was expecting them to bring her something or someone,” he explained. “Then two days ago, the rotting carcasses of seven of Colton’s hunters were carried back to town.”

“There were no survivors among them?” Premoran asked.

“None that we could find. Why do you ask?”

“We’ve been informed there are others traveling a similar path to ours,” Premoran replied. “Others that might have been their killers.”

“The ones we found were neatly dispatched, no maiming, no unnecessary disfigurement. If there were others with them, they may have fled, but by the way the Forsaken carried on when she examined them, I wager they were all accounted for.”

“Were there any unusual marks upon them?” Alemar asked. She had something in mind.

“Arrow wounds, sword slashes. What we would have expected on most of them. One had a deep cut in the middle of his forehead with a puncture wound above it and below it. Marion was particularly interested in that one.” Clifford wondered what Alemar knew.

“Could it have been made by a five pointed star?” she asked.

“Ah, of course!” Clifford’s face lit with recognition. “We don’t see weapons like that here often. It didn’t occur to me.”

“It’s a weapon that’s popular on the Islands of the Sea Elves,” Premoran affirmed.

“Your brethren are taking care of themselves,” Teetoo said, turning to Alemar.

She looked relieved.

“Remember Princess, you are not responsible for their welfare,” Premoran leaned over and spoke in her ear.

“One of the guards gave me this,” Clifford said, as he walked behind the desk and reached into the drawer. “He’s a friend, so he kept it from Marion’s prying eyes at great risk to himself. He found it amongst the dead. It caught his attention and he picked it up. I can see nothing special about it, but I kept it away from her nonetheless,” Clifford said. He held it up before them. It looked like no more than a common piece of burnished stone except for its rich magenta color.

Premoran’s eyes glinted. “May I see it?” he asked. He turned it over and examined it, his lips pressed together. Laying it on the surface of the desk, he rubbed his thumb in a circle across it. He beckoned the others to gather around. “Watch,” he instructed them. “This is no ordinary stone.” Premoran’s hand hovered above it and he closed his eyes. The stone began to glow and an image formed on its surface. Within seconds, a perfect likeness of Alemar’s face appeared before them all! The Princess fell back in her seat, her hand at her mouth.

“Now we know for certain whom they were tracking,” Teetoo said, unsurprised.

“It’s frightening to think the Dark One’s passing out likenesses of me to his hunters,” Alemar confessed.

“I wonder how many others are on our trail,” Giles said, his thoughts on Alemar’s safety above all else.

“I think it’s obvious the elves who had been taken prisoner have eluded their captors. They’ve slain the hunters ably as well. If any of the enemy survived that battle, they wouldn’t have left this stone behind, so it’s unlikely there are others from that group following us,” Teetoo concluded.

“Some good news at least,” Premoran said through half-closed eyes. “We must leave here as soon as we can. Calista’s spirit thrives in Pardatha still,” his voice resounded. “The crystal in the lake radiates her energy and the River of Tears runs with her essence. Despite her demise, she provides the youngling with sustenance even as the Gem’s light wanes. We’ll be safe there for a time,” Premoran said. “What else can you tell us, Clifford?” his request was now more urgent.

“Colton’s armies have begun their march,” he said. “They’re heading for Tamarand and another of the Possessed leads them. Their numbers are massive.” His voice was rife with disgust.

“As we feared,” Premoran said. “But there’s nothing we can do to assist the Baron. Others will go to his aid.”

“Robyn dar Tamarand, his son?” Teetoo questioned.

“His destiny lies with Davmiran,” Premoran replied. “As does ours.” He leaned back in the chair. “While we are here, our disguises will be sufficient to keep us safe from the soldiers and townspeople. The Forsaken one may not be so easily fooled, however,” he warned. He looked at Clifford. “It will be prudent for you to leave soon as well. The time is approaching when you’ll be unable to escape.”

“I’ve been trying to help those I can in addition to gathering information for you,” he replied, his voice restless. “I know the risks, but without me, there would be no one here to assist the innocents. I’m watching. I’ll leave when I must.”

“There are still some who haven’t given themselves to him completely,” Teetoo understood.

“Yes,” he acknowledged. “And I can’t abandon them. I’m their last hope.”

“You’ll help no one if you’re captured or dead,” Giles reminded him.

“I’ll leave soon,” he forced a smile from behind steepled fingers.

“You’re a good man, Clifford,” Premoran said. “You’ve served the earth well at great risk to yourself. But mark the rest of your days here with care. As Giles said, you will be of no help to anyone if you’re not able to act on their behalf.”

“Yes, I know,” he looked directly at the Wizard. “But right now it’s more important that I get all of you safely out of here and on your way. I’ll have two of my men escort you to the gates. You can trust them.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “You’ll need to bypass the wolves.” He knew this was one of their reasons for seeking shelter here. “There’s a path that leads into the woods, out of sight of the hills. The wind is still tonight. Your scent may not travel.”

“The premise of our visit was to re-provision ourselves. The guards at the gates allowed us one night to do so. Will they be suspicious if we leave earlier?” Teetoo asked.

“You can’t stay. Marion’s unpredictable. Should she stumble upon you, who knows what sport she might make of a scraggly group of strangers, even if she didn’t see through the guise.” Clifford was definite.

“Yes. It would be unwise, though it would give me great pleasure to confront her.” Premoran’s voice chilled them all.

“What excuse will you give for our departure?” Alemar asked.

Clifford thought for a moment. “Our provisions here are limited enough to begin with. We can’t afford to sell foodstuffs to strangers with war on the horizon. Bread alleviates hunger better than gold. Most will find the explanation satisfactory.”

“Some may find our gold more appealing,” Giles worried.

“Few know of your presence here. Besides, you won’t see many on the streets. Those who aren’t mourning their losses are too frightened to expose themselves. Admittedly, we get very few visitors these days, which is why I needed to question you. It was my duty,” he mocked. “But now that I have, and I’ve concluded that you’re harmless, it’s best you be on your way without taxing our resources further.”

“Wise leadership,” Premoran concurred.

“You’ll never find the path at night. You’ll have to risk the daylight,” Clifford explained. “I’ll send a group out the main gate as a diversion.”

“We’ve about an hour of it left,” Teetoo said.

Premoran rose and locked eyes with his friend. “Thank you.”

Clifford nodded once, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll see you in Pardatha, the First willing.” Turning abruptly away, he walked to the door and banged on it. “Open this,” he shouted.

The chains clanged through the loops and the door swung open.

“Take them to the gates and see them out of the town,” he said loud enough for those below to hear. “Don’t give them a chance to barter or sell anything. We need all the supplies we have.” He glared menacingly at Premoran.

With their heads down, his friends filed out the door behind the guards without looking back. Clifford walked over to his aide and leaned in. He whispered, “Take them to the Executioner’s Gate by way of the prisoner’s path. Keep to the shadows and get them out of here as soon as you can. Stand guard until you can’t see them any longer. If anyone’s lurking about, disperse them and report back to me immediately. Send someone down ahead with their weapons and lay them on the trail out of sight.” He motioned to one of his loyal soldiers to join him as the others walked down the steps. “Send a party of four out the front gates as far as Watcher’s Hill in sight of the wolves. Rub the horse’s hocks and flanks with fresh dung. Make sure they stink.”

The soldier saluted and scurried down behind them.

Clifford lingered a minute alone in the darkened stairwell. He descended the steps and walked to the door. Pushing it open, he stepped half-way out, leaned against the cold stone frame and lit his pipe. Drawing in the thick smoke, he watched as they disappeared into the shadows.