First Comes The One Who Wanders (45 page)

"Yes, it won't be hard for anyone looking for us to find us," said Leilas. "I'm sure that Rengailai is watching to see if I succeed and perhaps waiting for the best time to try and stop me."

Erion refrained from asking her to elaborate. Leilas knew she was asking a great deal from him to accompany her with no idea what was to come. She wondered how much it would be safe to tell him. If she told him too much, would Rengailai try to twist it from his mind? What would Rengailai do if he did know the whole plan? Only Jovan knew the answer to that question. All she knew was that she needed to complete her mission before they met again.

"Perhaps we should go back to the ship and I’ll show you what I’ve discovered," she suggested.

Erion agreed and started back toward the Silver Seal. The men were still hard at work, loading cargo into the hold. Leilas and Erion avoided the bustle and went down to the room they'd been sharing.

Spreading the map she’d acquired on the bottom bunk, Leilas let Erion peruse it in silence for some minutes. Eventually, he looked up and shook his head. "It looks like an outdated map to me. What are you seeing that makes this so intriguing to you?"

Leilas placed her finger on one spot and then on another. "These two spots."

"The Temple of Crog and the Temple of Sylph," read Erion aloud. "I hate to tell you this. They no longer exist, if they ever did."

"They do exist, in some form or other and that is where we're headed. Now I have some idea where to look."

Erion shook his head in amazement. "It's a good thing you didn’t tell me where we were going. I might have considered going home."

"If that is what you choose," said Leilas, rolling up the map, disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm.

"Yes I know. It's for me to choose. Crafters." Erion snorted at the crafter philosophy. "I'm an elf, son of purebred elves. We chose our way thousands of years ago. We don't change. As long as you haven't succumbed to the darkness, I'll go with you. No matter how crazy it seems. If you do give into the darkness, I'll do everything in my power to stop you."

Leilas thought of her dream with the laughter and the rage. "I hope you do and that you succeed, Erion."

"Crafter, the Captain wants you on deck," Bilkins yelled down the stairwell.

Tucking the map into her tunic, Leilas made her way to the main deck, followed by Erion, as the anchor was being hoisted. "Keep an eye out for that dragon," said the Captain when she appeared. "I haven’t seen him all day, maybe he’s finally gone." Leilas took her place at the railing while the Captain and Erion took their places by the helmsman. She hadn’t seen the dragon today, either. But she knew it was still out there waiting, just far enough away. The dragon’s magic was neutral, so she couldn’t tell who it was serving. She didn’t know if it was there as a protector or destroyer.

She tested her skills at communicating with the animals by asking if they'd seen the dragon, but they were too interested in playing alongside the ship to give her a coherent answer to her question. She was a little disappointed when the sea dragon didn’t return. But she kept busy repairing the ship and holding the weather at bay. They passed a few ships loaded with soldiers heading to Far Reef as they neared Crogmanland.

The sands along the shores of Crogmanland were dark, not white as they'd been at Far Reef. They were banked by jagged cliffs topped with trees that appeared to be attached only by their willpower. They reached Darkling Haven on the morning tide. Mount Pyrion towered in the background, dark from many years of eruptions.

After thanking the Captain for taking them, Leilas and Erion stepped off the gangplank into the busy city. To look at it, this city was no different from any on Solea. But to Leilas, the undercurrents were disturbing. The magic here felt chaotic, mercurial. It grated on her nerves. She could tell that Erion was ill at ease in this city, too. The sooner they gathered their supplies and left this place, the better.

Erion found horses for them while she bought supplies. Leilas met the elf in front of the stables. So far, other than suspicious looks, no one had confronted them. Leilas had to wonder how often Darkling Haven had such unusual visitors. They'd been discussing their course of travel since they left the Isle of Mer. Erion was convinced the temples shown on the map she’d acquired in the market were fantasy and that someone added them based on legend. Leilas wasn’t as certain. So far, someone had been watching out for her and making sure she had what she needed to complete her tasks. First, there had been Solein, then Cephom, then the crafters at Kyris. She was almost convinced the sea dragon had been sent to watch over her as well. Or it was meant to show her some sign she would recognize at the proper time.

She had given Erion the choice to leave when he began to express doubt over her choice. He chose to go with her, even though they both knew this leg of the journey would be filled with more danger than they'd encountered so far. Word had come via traders and sailors that the Dredracians had attacked along the coast. So far, the Jovanulum had held their ground, but they were outnumbered a hundred to one. Andresia and Dirth were already dark strongholds in Solea. Reyoro Dell was falling. Leilas knew it would only get worse, unless Dredrac and Rengailai were defeated. It was a war that Brenth, Adrian, Joshuas, nor any of the Jovanulum leaders could win as long as Rengailai was fighting against them.

It was midday by the time they left Darkling Haven, leading their pack horses behind them. According to the map, they needed to head northwest to the base of Mount Pyrion. There at the base of the mountain, somewhere, probably in another cave, Leilas thought, was a temple dedicated to the crafter Crog. As she rode, she thought about what she’d learned of Jovan’s Fire crafter.

According to the legends, he stood head and shoulders above most crafters. His chest was as wide as a door and his thighs as thick as young trees. His temper was as fiery as his red hair. His gift to Preterlandis was the volcano of Crogmanland. The exact spot to where they were heading. His had been the magic of darkness, also practiced by Anhj. But the magic he embraced hadn’t been corrupted. It had been the balance to the magic of light.

Crog had taken Rengailai as his son, to raise him and teach him. But Rengailai had been impatient with the crafter and turned more and more to Dredrac. Dredrac taught him how to twist and corrupt the dark magic to force his will, until he'd fallen so far away from the pure magic it was almost impossible for him to return. Once Rengailai had introduced this twisted, dark magic into the world, many crafters and people were corrupted by it, until the purity of the dark magic was all but lost.

That was all the Book of Sylph had taught her about Crog. The school had taught her very little of Crog, or Gidron had taught her little of the Fire crafter. He’d never mentioned the relationship between Crog and Rengailai. He’d never mentioned the falling away, the introduction of evil, or a book of very powerful, evil magic.

Had Master Frey already been corrupted when she began to study with him? Had he purposely left out the training that would have better prepared her for this journey?

Leilas tried to put her thoughts aside and concentrate on the beauty around her, but something inside her rebelled. Although to the eye the forest was lush, cool and inviting, she could feel its twisted corruption. Everything in Crogmanland felt that way to her. Even the horses seemed to rebel against their riders. Leilas and Erion spent a great deal of time trying to keep them on the path they were traversing.

Leilas sighed in relief when Erion halted by a stream and dismounted. "This will do for lunch. I’m ready for a break."

This was the first time she could remember the elf needing to rest. "That sounds good to me. I’m about ready to turn this horse loose and travel on by foot."

Erion smiled wearily. "They don’t seem to want to listen to reason." He unwrapped bread, meat and wine. It was a sweet dark bread, one Leilas hadn’t tasted before and a strong cheese that was less than pleasing to her palette. The wine was dark and bitter, and its effects were almost immediate. Leilas could feel the heat in her veins. But rather than a warm, fuzzy feeling, Leilas could feel the anger rising in her. Putting her cup of wine down, she decided not to have anymore.

Erion had also refrained from the wine. Leilas wondered why he hadn’t mentioned the effects of Crogmanland and its food before she’d eaten. This wasn’t like the food Garabaldi had given her. She could feel the dark powers coursing through her, clashing with the light power. Rising from her seat, she barely made it out of the clearing before she was violently ill. Once she'd purged the food from her system, she felt a little better, although her thoughts were a blur and her body was shaking.

"Leilas," Erion shook her hard. "What is the matter with you?"

She tried to answer, but she couldn’t find the words in her head. "Poison," she mumbled at last then all she saw was darkness.

Erion was sitting next to her, his sword over his knees when she awoke. "It’s good to see you back among the living," he said, as she struggled to a sitting position. The afternoon had passed, as had the early evening. "How long was I out?"

"Not as long as I expected. It was good you got rid of most of the poison. I thought we made it out of Darkling Haven a bit too easily."

"You could have warned me you thought something was amiss."

"And said what? That it was dangerous to venture into the stronghold of the Dredracians, that we wouldn’t be safe among our enemies? I've told you all this and yet here we are on a fool’s quest to a temple that doesn’t exist."

Leilas wanted to be angry, too, but did her best to control her temper. It was much harder here. "Right. You’ve told me all that before. I'll say again, what would you have me, –the Chidra– do? Abandon the Creator and the people because it's a fool’s quest or too hard or too dangerous? What am I to tell my brother, Joshuas, or Duke Cheran? That I don’t care that they are risking their lives and the lives of thousands because it's foolish, what I've been sent to do? You don’t have to come. You don’t have to endure this. You can leave now and no one will think the worst of you."

"Where would you be now, if I'd left you alone, Chidra? Dead in some dark forest," replied Erion.

"Maybe. But I wouldn’t be fighting my friends, along with my enemies."

Leilas leaned against a tree, spent from the effort her speech took. Erion had the grace to look ashamed and he made no reply to her accusations. "I ate some of the bread and cheese and seemed to have suffered no ill effects. I have discarded the wine. Much of what grows here is poisonous, so we need to be careful what we pick up along the way. Don’t drink the water unless it has been purified or unless I say it's safe. I’ll get you to where you think Crog’s temple is supposed to be standing, if I have to drag you. But I'm an elf, not a crafter. Don’t expect me to understand why crafters do what they do. I have spent eons ignoring what they do, as long as it doesn’t affect me. We elves care little if you fight among yourselves and kill each other. I count myself as your friend, but within the limits of our kind."

Leilas recoiled as if he’d hit her. Who was this talking to her? Not the Erion she’d come to know. She watched conflicting emotions cross his face. Something was not right, but she had no idea what. Again, she felt anger steal over her, inflaming her to speak rashly, to lash out. She clenched her jaw and fought against the wave of emotion. This was an insidious magic. If everything didn’t feel twisted and corrupt, she might have recognized it sooner and been able to protect them from it. Still, knowing didn’t help resist it. Neither did the poison in her system. Clearly, Erion was under the control of the spell. Had he not been a light elf, he might have gone crazy and left her to die. Rising to her feet unsteadily, she started for the horses. "We have to get out of this place, now."

"You're in no condition to go anywhere," replied Erion, not moving.

"That’s my bad luck, isn’t it," replied Leilas through clenched teeth. ""We're leaving, now."

"Because you say so? You can’t even realize you’re drinking poison," snapped Erion. "Why should you be the one giving orders?"

Leilas pulled her long knife from her belt and held it to his chest. "Because I’m the one making sense right now. Move." She pointed to the horses. It was a dangerous bluff. He could explode and attack before she had a chance to react, especially in her weakened state. She had to hope he was fighting against the magic, too. Again, conflicting emotions crossed his face before he shrugged and stood. Grabbing his pack, he moved to where the horses were tethered. "It doesn’t really matter to me. I can travel for days with no food or rest, unlike you." He slipped lithely onto his mount, gathered the reins of his pack horse, and rode off, not waiting for Leilas.

The pain in her stomach was searing, but she managed to gain the saddle and the reins of her pack horse and move off in the direction Erion had gone. She could feel the anger overtake her again as she fumed about being left behind. By the time she'd moved down the road a mile, Leilas could feel the effects of the spell wearing off. A quarter of a mile later, she found a chagrined Erion waiting for her.

"Are you all right, my lady? I don’t know what came over me. It was very unusual."

"I’m better now, if this horse would stop spinning."

"You shouldn’t be riding. I’ll find some place to stop."

"Not in the forest," interjected Leilas. "It’s too dangerous. Just pick me up if I fall off. Don’t stop until we reach the mountain."