First Comes The One Who Wanders (46 page)

"What is it, my lady? It must be some kind of magic but different than I have encountered before. Magic that affects even me." He smiled faintly.

"Yes, that is interesting, isn’t it? The power was familiar, yet not, at the same time. I'll have to think on it. I fear it's been placed on the trees. Any place you would think safe would be the most dangerous."

"Still, you shouldn’t be riding." Erion pulled her from her saddle into his, gathered all the animals and started for the mountain.

"I do seem to be more trouble than help, don’t I?" remarked Leilas, closing her eyes. I often wonder why I was the one chosen."

"Perhaps because you see what needs to be done and do it, rather than try to force yourself or point of view on the situation," offered Erion. "Not everyone is willing to give themselves up like that."

"Is that what I do? I thought I was just surviving."

"You told me you might not survive, yet you still chose to do what needed to be done."

"I suppose there is that," said Leilas resting against Erion’s chest.

"The effects of the poison should be gone in the morning. Sleep. I won’t stop."

"So familiar," murmured Leilas, drifting off. "Where have I felt that power before?"

Erion rode through the night while Leilas slept. He avoided the depths of the forest, keeping to the open road. Leilas woke a few times during the night, but didn’t fully wake until the morning. Her head hurt, but that seemed to be the only ill effect left of the poison. Erion gave her a piece of bread and a piece of fruit she had splurged a few pennies on to buy. She stuffed the food into her mouth greedily, her stomach growling its need. By midday, she was fit enough to climb back onto her own horse. They rode in silence for several hours. "Tell me about your people Erion. I've known you all this time and know next to nothing about you."

"Edan was the first son of Edom, the father of our people," began Erion in his musical voice. Leilas smiled, settling back in her saddle, knowing she was in for a rare treat. "Adan was the second son. It's said all of Preterlandis must maintain the balance and that was true for our people as well. Edan chose to follow the light. Adan began to seek the darkness. Yet, they both sought the pure power. Even as the dark power began to be corrupted, Adan didn’t bend his will to evil.

"Still, the two brothers couldn’t live together. They didn’t seek after the same goals and they seemed to fight constantly. Finally, Edom separated the lands given to his people, giving half to Edan and half to Adan. The half given to Edan was called Atana. The half given to Adan was called Ehanya. Adan instantly wanted the land Edan was given. He was never satisfied with what he'd been given," said Erion bitterly, "he always wanted more. It's still true of his people. They are never content to tend their land. They're always trying to take what isn’t theirs. When they are successful in winning the battles for the land, they leave it to waste away."

"Are there many battles for the land?" asked Leilas. She hadn’t heard of any battles between the elves.

"We haven't had a battle in many years. But we're always vigilant to keep what is ours. Occasionally, a small group of dark elves will try to claim land that belongs to Edan."

"It must be difficult to fight against your own people," murmured Leilas.

"They are not my people. They are my sworn enemies."

"They are still elves," said Leilas.

"The dark crafters are still crafters. Do you find it difficult to fight them?"

"I do. I would find it even more difficult to fight them if they held to the pure dark magic."

Erion frowned at her answer. "There are no dark crafters who hold to the pure magic."

"I believe there are some," replied Leilas, thinking of Garabaldi and the masters she'd seen at the council meeting.

"You're mistaken," said Erion.

"Perhaps," said Leilas, not wanting to argue with him. They'd fought enough on this leg of the journey. "You were telling me of Adan and Edan. Please continue your story."

Erion hesitated, and Leilas knew he wanted to convince her that all dark crafters were her enemies, for her own safety. Instead, he picked up his story where he’d left off. She knew that he was bound to keep her from choosing the dark magic. Her assertion that she believed some of the dark crafters were pure was more fuel added to the fire of disbelief in her fitness to be the Chosen One. Erion had told her he believed in her and she didn’t doubt his word. The fact that he hadn't argued with her was proof of his loyalty. But that didn’t negate his oath to protect his people from a crafter who'd chosen the darkness. She wished that he could believe in her with no need for reservation, but it was his destiny to judge the purity of the Chosen One.

"Edan told Adan," Erion picked up the thread of the story, "his father had chosen the land for each of them and that he wouldn’t defy his father’s wishes. Adan went away angry. Still, he would have been content to let it be, had Edan not fallen in love with Tana. She wasn’t the fairest daughter of the elves, but she was the most loved. Adan had always desired Tana, though he didn’t love her. Tana knew that Adan didn’t love her. Also, she'd chosen to follow the light magic, not the dark. It was no secret that Edan loved her and in time she grew to love him. Adan was furious. Not only had Edan received the better half of the land, now he had taken the beloved maiden. There was no placating Adan. He declared himself an enemy forever to Edan. All his descendants would be taught that light elves were their enemies.

"Even though we are enemies, dark elves will not kill us without just cause, nor will we kill them without just cause. But we know them for what they are, servants of the dark magic." Leilas knew he added that last bit for her benefit.

Erion frowned as he continued. "The dark elves were not as concerned as the light elves to avoid mixing with other races. They let their desires guide them. As a result, darklings began to appear, half dark-elf, half some other race. Darklings didn’t keep their magic pure. Their minds were easily twisted by the corrupt magic introduced by Rengailai. In some instances, the races the dark elves mixed with had already embraced the twisted dark magic. Darklings have no compunction in killing, elves or anyone else.

"For the most part, we've lived peacefully for thousands of years, despite our differences. We respect each other’s borders and people," concluded Erion. "Light elves don’t wander into Ehanya and dark elves don’t wander into Atana."

"How much danger are you in coming here?" asked Leilas, concerned for her companion.

"Does it just now occur to you that coming with you might put me in grave danger, as well?"

Leilas was ashamed to say this was the first time she’d thought about it. "Are we near Ehanya?"

"Not close enough for it to be a concern, yet," replied Erion. "But we'd be wise to avoid it. Getting caught by the dark elves, here in this forest, would be almost certain death."

To her, Erion was almost invincible. The idea that he could be killed hadn’t crossed her mind. She was ashamed she’d been centering her thoughts on her danger. Falling silent, she brooded on all he'd told her.

Evening began to fall. According to the map, they should reach the area they were hunting, by morning, if they rode through the night. She was still feeling weak from the poison and not much rest, but she didn’t suggest they stop. Although the feeling of twisted and chaotic magic was weaker on the open road, it was still there and would be stronger once they left the road.

She didn’t know how long she'd dozed. The sounds of many feet moving through the trees awakened her. Erion had already nocked his bow. He turned to check that she was awake and urged his horse into a gallop. Leilas was close behind, busy trying to ready her weapons as she rode. "Who are they?" she yelled to Erion’s back.

"Darklings. A lot of them," he yelled back.

Leilas turned and looked behind her. The darklings were hot on their trail, having abandoned the forest and running along the road. The horses weren’t much faster than the creatures following them and Leilas was fairly certain they wouldn’t hold out as long. She didn’t know what would happen if she used her magic here, or even if she should. Perhaps she should just keep running. While she struggled to keep up with Erion’s expert horsemanship, she tried probing the minds of those chasing them, so she could understand what their intentions were and who'd sent them. She pulled her thoughts back at what she found in their minds.

Erion pulled his horse to a stop in front of a rocky outcropping and scrambled to an advantageous position to fire. Leilas followed more slowly. Until Erion ran out of arrows and they needed to rush into battle, she simply needed to not get in the way of any arrows and not wear herself out helping with spells. In this instance, her fighting skills would be more helpful than her magic.

The darklings slowed when five of the leaders fell in succession. They split into two groups and scurried into the trees, making Erion’s bow less lethal. Still, as they neared the rocks, he picked them off, until his quiver was empty. Throwing his bow aside, he loosed his sword. It didn’t take the darklings long to realize he'd released his last arrow. They reassembled and then began to circle around their stronghold. Leilas counted twenty darklings still standing and twenty lying dead. The odds weren’t in their favor. Erion’s grim expression told her he’d come to the same conclusion. Though these people weren’t purebred, they still had elven blood. They would be worthy opponents and her magic would be less effective, if it affected them at all, if she were forced to use it.

Waiting for their enemies to reach them, they stood back to back. Leilas had her sword and long knife in hand. She would have preferred the axe, but it would be too cumbersome in this fight. All twenty attacked at once. Leilas countered the strokes that came close, worrying only about the rhythm of the battle. The darkness was hovering just on the fringes of her consciousness. She felt a satisfying connection with one of her opponents and saw him fall, but she didn’t do more than notice before another darkling took his place. Her arm was already burning. Her breath was coming in gasps. The poison had sapped a great deal of her strength, putting her at even more of a disadvantage. Her next opponent drew first blood, catching her arm with a glancing blow. She caught him with a knife thrust through his ribs. She pulled the blade loose as he fell. Sweeping her sword in an arc, she caught the neck of the next to step too close. She was tiring quickly and knew she had little chance against the attackers when she heard a shrill whistle. The darklings backed away then disappeared into the forest. Leilas looked around in puzzlement as she bent to catch her breath. "Where did they go?" she asked the obvious question.

Erion shook his head, his sword still at the ready. "Someone or something called them away."

"Never let it be said I’m not grateful for little blessings. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go on fighting."

Erion cast a worried eye over her. "We need to find some place to rest, evil magic or not. You need to sit down and eat." He put his sword away and rummaged in his pack, coming up with a bottle of beer. "This will help for now." He passed the bottle to Leilas and began to collect his arrows from the slain darklings. This time, they left the bodies for their companions to collect. Mounting their skittish horses, they continued down the road at a gallop. Erion spied a darker spot among the rocks and investigated. There was a small opening in the rocks that was large enough to house them.

"Who do you think called the darklings away?" asked Leilas, as she took care of her animals.

"Someone who didn’t want us dead quite yet," answered Erion grimly. "I don’t understand this cat and mouse game, and I’m tired of being batted around."

"There was no laughing this time," mused Leilas absently. "Just that twisted power." She leaned against her saddle, the fatigue beginning to overtake her. "What is it they know, that I haven’t discovered yet?" She didn’t hear Erion’s answer. She gave in to the need to sleep instead.

She was standing at the Chasm of Ceryk again. A young woman was with her. Rengailai stood on the opposite side of the gorge with someone hidden in a cloak. That twisted feeling of power was there, but it didn’t come from Rengailai, but from the man next to him.

"It's in her hands," said Rengailai, to the person next to him. "The treasure you've been seeking. Go take your prize."

Leilas looked in her hand. There was the Crafter’s Staff assembled, the crystal orb adorning the apex. The person next to Rengailai took the form of a griffin and began to cross the chasm. The young woman next to Leilas began to chant. The staff began to glow. The griffin screeched and began its attack.

Leilas woke with a start, her hand on her axe. They were still in the shallow opening in the rocks. Erion opened one eye to see if she was all right then went back to his rest. Dropping her hand from her weapon, she brushed back her hair and tried to calm herself. It was nearly dawn, so she rummaged in her pack and found some breakfast. Munching on the bread and cheese, she tried to make sense of what she’d dreamed. She was certain she’d never met the girl before. But she knew that she would meet her before her journey was done. The woman in her vision was petite, with jet-black hair, and maybe Brenth’s age. She was wearing the garb of a healer.

Who was the crafter? He'd felt very powerful, yet it was a dark, twisted power. He was the same person who was in these woods. It was this crafter who wanted the Crafter’s Staff. The same staff she was seeking. So why send his minions to try to kill them? Why try to poison her? Or were those mistakes? Were his people not totally under his control?