Defenders of The Sacred Land: Book One of The Sacred Land Saga (21 page)

“We will talk again later. I have told you what I have in the hope that you do not plan any more escapes. Once we get to Adracoria, Ianthill will instruct you further. It is likely he will be angry with me for telling you this much.”

“Rennon will say this is all some kind of wielder trick, and I am inclined to agree.”

“You must not tell him or Tatrice. You must keep this to yourself until we reach Ianthill. Your friend, Vesperin, will join us in Symbor. Kerad has instructed him to be your council of Loracia and to look after your well-being, much as Kerad is council to Morgoran. You may confide in him if need be, but only to him.”

Dorenn felt fear and shock overwhelm him. “But how—”

“I will answer no more questions. Do not dwell on it, Dorenn,” she said as she spurred her horse onward away from him.

Tatrice sat up on her horse and then moved next to Dorenn. “Where are we?” she asked.

Dorenn did not answer right away. It took him a moment to realize she was awake and talking to him.

“What is wrong, Dorenn? Why have they taken us against our will?”

Dorenn glanced at Tatrice. “We are going to Symbor to meet with Vesperin.”

Tatrice eyed him suspiciously. “Dorenn Adair, I have known you too long for you lie to me. You are not telling me something.”

“Tatrice, don’t be so sure. I am not lying to you. We are going to meet with Vesperin.”

“And then…?”

“And then we will travel to Adracoria and meet Ianthill,” he said, trying to sound commanding.

“Why would we do that? What does Rennon say about this?” She glanced back at Rennon. “Why is Rennon bound to his horse?”

Dorenn could feel her panic. “Enough, Tat,” he said, unsheathing
Dranmalin
. He reined his horse beside Rennon and cut the ropes, freeing his still sleeping friend. Rennon’s arms fell down to his sides.

“Dorenn?” Tatrice pleaded.

Dorenn could not think of what to say to her without telling her the truth. Finally, he thought of something. “War is coming to Symboria; you know this. That is why the soldiers are going to Brookhaven. We are going to help Symboria.”

“How can we help?”

“I am not sure. Vesperin says he has been given a quest, and Enowene has persuaded me that we should help him as he asked us to in the Vale.”

“Now was that so difficult?” she asked.

Dorenn smiled uneasily. “No, I suppose not.”

“Rennon will not like it,” Tatrice said.

“Then he is free to go on back home. I am sure they will need his help defending the village.”

“Dorenn,” Tatrice scolded. “Rennon is your best friend.”

Dorenn nodded. “True, but you know how he is. He’s so distrusting.”

“He trusts you.”

Dorenn bowed his head. “I see your point. If he will come along, I would be glad to have him.”

“We will arrive in Symbor just before nightfall,” Gondrial announced. “We will be riding straight through to the docks. No side trips.”

Dorenn noticed Rennon was waking, so he rode alongside him to tell him what he could.

Chapter 11: Adracoria

Upon reaching Symbor, Gondrial insisted on taking the short roads to the docks and procuring passage there. Dorenn found Gondrial’s manner puzzling. He hid his face from the guards and slinked about as if someone might recognize him. At last, Lady Shey booked passage aboard the
Sea Hag
, bound for the port of Adrontear, Adracoria.

The day of departure was dismal. Autumn was giving way to winter, and the ocean brought cold rain from the west. Dorenn imagined the Jagged Mountains to the east had snowcaps, and Brookhaven probably had snow on the ground by now. He missed the snow and wondered if he would ever see it again. As time drew near to board the ship, Dorenn once again lamented on the reasons for becoming part of all this nonsense. He was just a simple innkeeper’s son, but Sylvalora had seen him as something more, much more.

Lady Shey watched the captain of the
Sea Hag
pace on his deck from the dock. She looked off into the city, shaking her head. “Gondrial is late again, and Captain Esterly grows impatient.” She put her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun.

“What business did he have in town?” Dorenn asked.

“He would not say. He said he had to face it alone. I have my suspicions, but I don’t know really.”

The captain shouted down from the deck of the ship. “I can wait no longer, my lady. I must leave port. The easterlies will not wait.”

“One more moment, my good captain,” Lady Shey called back to him.

Soon Dorenn saw a horse speeding in from the distance. As the steed and rider neared, he saw it was Gondrial. Dorenn pointed. “There he is.”

“Well it’s about time.” Lady Shey turned to shout to the captain. “Our friend approaches. Cast off the lines.”

The captain raised his hand in a circular motion, and the men began to cast off the lines, securing the ship to the dock. Dorenn squinted. “Something is not right here. Gondrial is not slowing. I think he means to jump aboard ship.”

One of the men securing the gangplank nodded at Dorenn. “Methinks you are right, young one,” he said.

“Shove off, shove off!” Gondrial yelled. He spurred his horse, and with a whinnied roar, it leaped through the air and landed with hooves skating to a stop at the center of the deck.

Gondrial dismounted and led his horse into the hold. Dorenn turned his attention back to the dock where he saw several guardsmen searching to no avail. After a moment, Gondrial appeared on deck, hiding behind a mast not far from where Dorenn stood watching the guard’s frantic search. “Did they see me board?” he asked.

“I don’t think so; they seem to be checking the narrow alleyways and docks.”

“Good,” he said, dusting his breeches off. “I was hoping to ride fast enough and far enough ahead to get past them.”

“What is it, Gondrial? Why do you need to avoid the guard here?” Dorenn asked.

“It’s a long story, lad. One day I may tell it, but today is not that day.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Rennon asked.

“Well, you could say that, but I prefer to think of it as…” he paused, “a disagreement.” He smiled a sarcastic grin. “I may let you two know someday, but today is not that day, and I grow tired of repeating myself.” He turned aft. “Suffice it to say I have a loose end to tie up.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and meandered away.

Rain began to fall as the ship lumbered out to sea, forcing Dorenn, Vesperin, and Rennon to pull their cloaks tight around themselves. As the ship reached rougher waters, the three decided to go inside from the weather. Dorenn fought the urge to question Gondrial further.

Dorenn woke to shouts and a ringing bell. Two days had passed since the
Sea Hag
had left the port of Symbor, and from the commotion on deck, they were nearing the port of Adrontear in southern Adracoria. The storm from two nights ago had blown them to their destination sooner than anticipated. Dorenn quickly dressed himself and met Vesperin, Rennon, and Tatrice on the deck. None of them had ever been out of Symboria, and the chance to see a new port made the four tingle with excitement and anticipation.

At first, Dorenn could not make out the lighthouse of Adrontear, but as the ship drew nearer, he saw the immensity of it. On a rocky cliff, the lighthouse stood to let ships navigate the rocky enclosure to the port. It stood as a pure stone spire, stretching upward and outward. Its grey appearance gleamed in the morning sun, and its white cap reflected out to sea. The port itself was much different from the one in Symbor. Twice the number of ships lined its docks. Dorenn counted more than two dozen different designs. The wharf was painted a brilliant white instead of the dingy brown of Symbor, and the merchant houses were cleaner and painted with bright blues and greens.

The
Sea Hag
docked near a merchant ship twice the size of the Tiger’s Head Inn and as tall. “I never dreamed a port could be so…” Dorenn began.

“Beautiful,” Tatrice finished.

“And elegant. Look at the woodwork on the railing of the wharf,” Vesperin said.

“This is where we depart,” Lady Shey said. “Gondrial is taking care of our baggage, so we can go ahead and meet Ianthill.”

“Where is Ianthill?” Tatrice asked.

Lady Shey looked around the docks for a moment and then pointed. “That’s him, right over there.”

All four turned and squinted to see the ancient wielder.

“You mean the man in the ragged hat?” Rennon asked.

“Well, the correct term would be elf in the ragged hat, but yes. That is Ianthill.”

Dorenn could not make out the features of the elf at first, but as the dock master pointed Ianthill toward the
Sea Hag
and he approached, his features began to become clearer. He wore crimson red robes and smoked a long pipe. His ragged brown, wide-brimmed hat sat on top of his blond-haired head. He walked with a dark red wooden staff with a large crimson crystal affixed to the top. He wore no facial hair, but as he came nearer, Dorenn could see his hair was of some length.

“Greetings, Lady Shey.” He took her hand and kissed it. “It has been far too long.”

Lady Shey curtsied. “Well met, Keeper of the Isle. I trust you are well.”

“Aye, I am as well as a young stag on a spring day, and what of you?”

“I am well, thank you.”

Ianthill looked at the ship, his blue eyes sparkling in the morning sun. “Where is that rebellious apprentice of mine?” he asked.

“I am here, my master,” Gondrial said as he left the gangplank. “I see you still have poor eyesight even for an elf. I thought we were done with this ‘apprentice master’ nonsense.”

“I could see a flea on a mutt too leagues past you, and you know it. As far as you being my equal that is yet to be seen.” He laughed. “Oh, Gondrial, my boy, it does me good to look upon you.” Ianthill embraced Gondrial.

“And you, Master, don’t look a day over two thousand.”

Ianthill patted Gondrial on the shoulder and then noticed the four companions staring at him. “Well, well, who do we have here? You are obviously a cleric of Loracia,” he said to Vesperin.

“Aye, my lord,” Vesperin said bowing.

“I am old, but I am not a lord, young cleric. Ianthill will suit me just fine.”

“As you wish, Ianthill,” Vesperin said, bowing again.

Ianthill held Tatrice’s hand and kissed it. “And you, my lass?”

“I am Tatrice of Brookhaven.”

“Splendid.” Ianthill moved to Rennon.

“I am Rennon of Brookhaven, sir.”

“Excellent,” Ianthill remarked. “A polite bunch,” he said to Gondrial.

“And what is your name, lad?” he said to Dorenn.

“I am Dorenn of Brookhaven.”

“I see. Pleased to meet you Dorenn of Brookhaven. I have heard much about you.”

Dorenn bowed.

“Well, gather your things and follow me to my dwelling. We have work to do.” The elf clicked his crimson staff on the wooden dock and moved ahead without waiting for anyone else to follow.

Gondrial had loaded the horse he brought as a beast of burden, and Dorenn fell in beside Gondrial.

“He wears robes, carries a staff, and looks the part of a wielder,” Dorenn whispered.

“Aye, what did you expect?” Gondrial answered.

“Isn’t magic outlawed in Adracoria?’

“Hmm,” Gondrial nodded. “I follow where you are leading. Ianthill is Keeper of the Isle. The same isle where the most powerful and feared wielders were exiled to after the War of the Oracle. He can come and go as he pleases; no Enforcer would dare try to stop him. After the first couple of centuries or so after the war, they no longer bothered to keep an eye on him.”

“Centuries? I know elves live for long periods of time, but how old is he?”

“Old.”

“How old?”

Gondrial rubbed his chin. “The last time Enowene and I tried to figure it out, he was about nine thousand seasons old, but recently we found an account of him helping King Fet A’ador arrange the marriage of his daughter to the King of Lux Amarou, which would put him closer to twelve thousand.”

“Seasons,” Dorenn said stunned.

Gondrial laughed. “Aye, Ianthill was one of the original disciples to the gods, as were Morgoran and Toborne. Do you not have an account of history in Brookhaven?”

“We do, but I never studied it.”

“Why not?”

Dorenn shrugged. “I can’t say. I suppose I found it uninteresting.”

Gondrial eyed Dorenn with a shocked expression. “I suggest you read the histories. It will help you on your journeys.”

Dorenn nodded, and the two quickened their pace to catch up with the others.

Ianthill led them through the city streets to a row of buildings overlooking the docks and ocean. The street was one of wealth and influence judging by its splendor and architecture. The building Ianthill stopped in front of had marble steps leading to an arched porch with stone spires. The whole of the building was painted a light brown with white trim at the windows and doors. A man dressed in a blue overcoat came and took the horse.

“Find out what belongings belong with whom and have everything cleaned and polished and brought to their rooms, Kerick.”

“At once, Master Ianthill,” the man in blue said, looking to Enowene for the information.