Emerald of the Elves (15 page)

“They will be delivered to you shortly,” Garong promised.

Arik nodded and led the Rangers to the spot that Garong had pointed to. Half a dozen elves arrived with Arik’s tunic, breastplate, and mounts. The Rangers’ mounts were let free to roam.

“The welcome is less than cordial,” remarked Jenneva. “Was that feeling of hostility felt by everyone? Or was it just me?”

“It was not hostility,” remarked Tanya. “It was fear. As impassive as an elf’s face is, fear was clearly evident in the queen’s demeanor.”

“Why would she fear us?” asked Prince Darok. “We did nothing that could be considered threatening.”

“It is nothing that we did,” explained Tanya. “It is what the elves must do if Arik finds the Book of Things.”

“You mean that they will swear allegiance to Arik?” asked Alex. “Why should they fear that?”

“Look around you,” suggested Tanya. “Have you seen a more perfect paradise anywhere since the Collapse?”

“No,” replied Alex. “It is clearly a beautiful glade, but can it last when Sarac’s minions come tromping through here?”

“Remember the vision?” prompted Tanya. “Sarac’s people cannot find this glade. We would have never found it either if Garong was not convinced that the queen needed to decide what to do with us.”

“So you think this glade is magical, too?” inquired Jenneva.

“Without a doubt,” nodded Tanya. “We could have searched forever and never found it.”

“That is why Queen Lyander wants to know in advance before we leave,” nodded Alex. “If the entrance is magical, the elves must take precautions to ensure their security.”

“That is why you made me remove my clothes,” Arik finally understood. “You felt they were going to kill us.”

“I think they would have,” interjected Prince Darok. “Only the thought of murdering their promised Valon caused them to reconsider. The dwarves of Dorgun would have reacted that way to a group that threatened to take the Dwarven Ruby.”

“That was quick thinking, Tanya,” smiled Jenneva. “I think you are also correct about Valon. The cost to the elves of obtaining the Book of Things is fealty to Valon.”

“And that fealty threatens everything they know and love,” frowned Alex. “Even if there were clues here about the location of the Book of Things, I doubt that they would share it with us.”

“Perhaps I should talk to the queen,” mused Arik. “I can explain that we are not a threat to the elves.”

“You miss the point, Arik,” responded Prince Darok. “It is not that you are a threat to them. It is their own prophecy that threatens their idyllic lifestyle here. They have closed off the outside world and have no desire to be a part of it. Valon will change all of that. That is what they fear.”

“I could refuse their offer of fealty,” suggested Arik. “My goal is to restore the Sword of Heavens, not drag these people into a world that they would rather avoid.”

“That is not an option for them,” Jenneva shook her head. “Their fealty will be to you, but it is demanded by their prophecy. It is not yours to refuse. Even if you refuse their allegiance, they must ensure your safety. They cannot do that here in this magical glade. I do understand the predicament that they find themselves in.”

“This is all a moot point if we cannot find the Book of Things,” sighed Alex. “I think we should rest for the night and be on our way in the morning. We will accomplish nothing while we are here, and time draws short for us.”

In the gazebo on the other side of the pond, two elves sat quietly.

“You did well, Garong,” declared Queen Lyander. “Hearing the humans talk amongst themselves provides much knowledge.”

“I am pleased to discover that their intentions towards us are not evil,” replied Garong. “I would have been surprised if they were. We ran across this group some time ago. They behaved honorably then, and I see no reason why they would do less today. Do you remember the older couple being present in Elderal before the Collapse? I am afraid that I was young and more interested in the unicorns at the time.”

“I do remember them,” nodded the queen. “They appeared honorable then as well. Still, I have a duty and an obligation to my people now, that I was not burdened with then.”

“You fear that they will succeed then?” questioned Garong.

“Only Valon can succeed in the quest,” nodded the queen, “and I have no doubt that this Arik is the one prophesized. Yes, my son, they will succeed. Life as we know it will forever be changed.”

“Could we not just give them the emerald?” posed Garong.

“You know the answer to that as well as I,” Queen Lyander smiled sadly. “Let us hope that it takes them a long, long time to find the Book of Things.”

“That is not hard to imagine,” replied Garong. “We certainly searched everywhere for it. I am quite surprised that Valon turned out to be a human. I always assumed he would be an elf.”

“As we all did,” nodded the queen. “I must have a meeting of the council after the humans leave in the morning. Will you arrange it?”

“I shall do so after the humans go to sleep,” nodded Garong. “I wish to hear more of what they say.”

* * *

“What is it?” asked Baron Timor of Southland as the soldier ran towards him.

“I think you should come look for yourself,” grinned the soldier.

Baron Timor nodded and hurried towards the southern gate. The soldier led him up the stairs, and he gazed out over the plain before the city. Dust clouds roiled on the horizon, and it took a moment for the baron’s eyes to adjust.

“Horses!” exclaimed the baron.

“Lots of horses,” grinned the soldier.

“Whose are they?” questioned Baron Timor. “Where are they coming from?”

“From the south,” shrugged the soldier. “They must be the horses that Prince Arik promised.”

“I know he promised us horses,” nodded the baron, “but he was in and out of here so quickly that I never did get an idea of how many. There are hundreds of them.”

“I would say thousands,” countered the soldier. “Look how far back the dust clouds spread. We are only seeing the vanguard.”

“Well don’t just stand there,” laughed the baron. “Get down and open those gates. Let’s not keep our herders waiting.”

The soldier nodded joyously and scampered down the stairs. Baron Timor stood silently and grinned broadly as he watched the herd approach the city. His eyes ran over the herd and the men driving the animals. A puzzled frown appeared on his face as the riders got closer. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He looked again and shook his head.

“Gypsies?” he murmured under his breath. “I wonder how much this is going to cost me.”

Then he noticed Wylan and Bin-lu near the front of the herd. He smiled again and hurried down the stairs to greet them. His men had formed a human corridor to direct the horses to a fenced in area of the city. Baron Timor eased his way to the front of the men. He watched as the gypsy riders peeled off at the gate and herded the horses into the city. The baron stood laughing joyously as the steady stream of horses poured into the city. He waited until the horses had passed before stepping through the line to welcome the riders.

“Set up tables for our guests,” ordered the baron. “Bring them food and ale so that they may refresh themselves.”

Wylan and Bin-lu led the riders through the gates. They immediately dismounted along with two gypsies. One of the gypsies waved the rest of his men onward to where the tables were being set up.

“Baron Timor,” greeted Wylan, “I would like you to meet Mandal and Hortice. They are responsible for your horses.”

“Welcome to Southland,” greeted the baron. “Those are fine looking animals you brought here.”

“They are the best that Lanoir has to offer,” chuckled Mandal. “Courtesy of Prince Arik and Adan, king of the gypsies.”

“Courtesy?” echoed the baron. “I’ve never known a gypsy to give a horse away.”

“Two thousand horses,” grinned Mandal. “We don’t make a habit of giving anything away, but then again, I don’t ever recall a gypsy following a prince of bastas either. I guess the world is changing.”

“So it is, lad,” laughed Baron Timor, “so it is. Come let me get you some refreshments. We can talk while you drown the dust in your throat.”

“Our tribes will be arriving in a few days,” Mandal said as they walked. “They are hauling dwarven armor and weapons for the Army of the West. Will Southland be able to accommodate them when they arrive?”

“I will make sure that your people are welcomed and taken care of,” nodded Baron Timor. “Now that we have horses, a good number of these lads will be heading off for Cleb to join with the Army of the West. Those still needing armor and weapons will remain here until your tribes arrive. Then we are off to Klandon. We should join up with the Army of the West there. Will the gypsies be fighting alongside us?”

“That has not been mentioned to me,” admitted Mandal. “While the gypsies are good fighters, our tactics are seldom useful in regular engagements. We shall have to wait for Adan to have that question answered.”

“Sit,” the baron said as he pointed to one of the tables. “You said these horses were Lanoirian? That is a long distance to bring a herd. I wonder how long it will take for them to be battle ready.”

“They are from the Lanoirian army,” grinned Hortice. “I think you will find them ready when you need them.”

“The Lanoirian army?” laughed the baron. “That takes great courage and cunning. I am glad the gypsies are on our side. We could not stand losses that great.”

“Two thousand horses is not much to the Lanoirians,” frowned Mandal. “Emperor Hanchi is reported to have an army of a hundred thousand men.”

“And they are heading north,” added Hortice. “I fear Sordoa will fall quickly.”

“I cannot imagine an army that large,” grimaced the baron. “Let us hope they settle for conquering Sordoa.”

A green fairy fluttered over the table and gently swept down and landed on Wylan’s shoulder. Wylan flinched at first, but calmed himself when he saw what it was.

“What have we here?” asked Baron Timor. “I thought you were Midge at first, but I can see that you are not.”

“I am Twerp,” the fairy responded. “I have been sent to be your personal communications liaison with the rest of the Bringer’s people.”

“He means Prince Arik,” interpreted Wylan. “The fairy people call him the Bringer.”

“Yes,” nodded the fairy. “Prince Arik is the Bringer. I am sorry that I am late, but I was searching for Prince Arik before coming here.”

“Where were you searching?” inquired the baron.

“Down to the Southern Mountains,” answered Twerp. “There was no sign of him in my sector.”

“Nor should there be,” replied the baron. “Prince Arik is north of here. He stopped here briefly a few days ago.”

“North?” questioned Twerp. “Oh my! I must alert my people. I will return shortly.”

“I would look north of Klandon,” the baron called after the rising fairy. “They sounded like they had a ways to go before they found what they were after.”

Twerp soared down and landed on the baron’s shoulder. “North of Klandon? That is important information. Do you know where they were headed?”

“I am afraid not,” shrugged Baron Timor. “Why are you searching for him?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” frowned Twerp. “Queen Marta has died. Arik must return to Tagaret right away.”

Baron Timor slumped in his chair, and a mask of concern etched into his face.

“How?” asked Wylan as his forehead knotted and the corners of his mouth turned downward.

“She was killed by a revenant,” reported Twerp. “I thought everyone knew already. I am sorry for my lack of manners. I am not used to dealing with humans.”

“Blessed sword!” yelled Baron Timor as his fist slammed down on the table. “Is there no end to the treachery in Tagaret?”

Twerp bounced off of the baron's shouler when he slammed his fist down. The fairy hovered for a moment, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, he streaked skyward and vanished.

“They will try to kill Arik next,” Wylan said softly. “I do not care to think about the consequences of them succeeding.”

“They cannot be allowed to succeed,” snarled Baron Timor. “I have half a mind to drive these men straight to Tagaret and purge that foul city of Sarac’s men.”

“There are plenty of warriors in Tagaret,” Wylan declared. “We would have no better chance of finding Sarac’s men than they would. Your army must take care of Azmet. I want to ride with you.”

“We would be proud to have you with us, lad,” the baron tried to smile.

“You will have to take me as well,” declared Bin-lu.

The baron nodded and excused himself from the table.

Prince Darok awoke and stretched his powerful arms. He sniffed the air and was rewarded with the sweet scent of strawberries. He found the distant thunder of the waterfall surprisingly pleasant. Darok gazed about. It took him a moment to recall where he was. He spied the Rangers sitting in a circle not far off. He rose and strolled over to the group.

“Good morning, Prince Darok,” greeted Arik. “I trust you slept well?”

“It feels strange to admit it,” nodded the dwarf, “but that was the best sleep I have ever had, outside of the mines, of course. Is there any chance of getting some strawberries for breakfast?”

“A very good chance,” smiled Jenneva as she passed a basket to the dwarf prince. “Strawberries, honey, and freshly-made crackers.”

Prince Darok grinned as he took the basket. “The elves of Elderal appear peaceful enough,” he stated as he gazed at the elves going about their daily chores

“Do not let their peaceful demeanor cause you to underestimate them,” interjected Alex. “Those arrows aimed at us yesterday were meant to kill. The Elderal were not the elves who moved near Dorgun to forsake war.”

“A point well taken,” nodded Prince Darok. “What are our plans?”

“We leave as soon as you are through with your morning meal,” announced Tanya.

“Do not let me hold up the plans,” Prince Darok mumbled as he stuffed his large mouth with a handful of strawberries. “I am ready to go.”

Alex stood as Garong approached. “Greetings, Garong,” Alex said. “Our party is ready to leave.”