Sons of Evil: Book 1 Book of Dread (31 page)

Calta touched the side of
Barlow’s head, near the temple, and said a few words in elvish.

Barlow’s jaw dropped open.

Calta repeated the process on
the others, and the Hidden Road was now plain to see. It was a simple lane,
really, twenty feet wide at most, cutting a fairly straight path through the
woods north-to-south.

“What spell have you put on us
that we can see it?” Barlow asked with an edge to his voice, one Calta might
have missed but that his companions did not.

“None, actually. The road
itself has an enchantment upon any non-elf who nears it. For the four of you, I
have simply broken that spell.”

“Then I owe you my thanks.”

“As do we all,” Silas added,
his tone far more appreciative. But Silas understood his friend’s feelings. They
had had far too many bad experiences with illusions and having their own
thoughts and memories used against them of late. It was not easy to shrug off
any magic affecting their minds as a simple parlor trick over which they could
be amused.

“Is the enchantment broken for
us for good?” Adrianna asked, her knowledge of magic making her think that such
would be the case.

“For the remainder of your
journey, certainly,” Calta replied. “A year from now…” He shrugged, indicating
he wasn’t sure. “The road’s magic is old and strong, and is not limited to just
illusions.”

“What do you mean?” Barlow
asked.

“I will leave certain things
unspoken. Let’s just agree that it is good you are not enemies of my people.”

Even though Barlow knew he was
no enemy of the elves, his first steps onto the road still had a slight
hesitation to them. Once he and his friends had covered a dozen paces without event,
he noticed that he had been holding his breath. He let the air out of his
lungs, and shook his head at his own doubts and fears.

*

It didn’t take long for the
companions to appreciate the Hidden Road. Their path was laid out for them,
even without their elven guides, and many miles could be covered in a day. It
only took a very short while to forget the road was secret at all, once the
enchantment was gone, although it did occasionally come up in conversation.

“What happens when something
or someone stumbles upon the Hidden Road by accident?” Darius asked one
afternoon. “If they can’t see it…”

“They rarely know anything is
amiss,” Calta said, confirming Darius’ suspicion. “It is sometimes good for a
laugh if some creature tries to rest against a tree that’s not there, but even
that won’t break the spell.”

“You’d think something with
enough intelligence could then figure out there’s magic at work,” Barlow said.

“No doubt,” Calta agreed. “But
knowing a spell’s at work and breaking it are two different things. And while
the enchantment holds, the best one could do is to stumble along, probing to
see which trees are real and which are not. Hardly an efficient way to move,
especially if one is an enemy of my people.”

They spent twelve days upon
the secret path, and as they continued north, two things progressively changed:
the trees grew thicker and taller, and the weather colder. The weather, they
were told, was still reasonably warm for this part of the world in early
autumn, and the trees, while common here, were of a type Barlow, Darius, and
Adrianna had not seen before.

“Dalatus, they are called,”
Calta had told them several days ago, when those new to the wood first took
note of them.

“I did not know trees could
grow so large,” Adrianna said while craning her neck to see how close to the
sky they reached.

“They are not large, for
Dalatus,” Calta said with a grin. “The largest are closer to home.”

While the words sounded as if
they might be more prideful boast than fact, the newcomers soon admitted the first
Dalatus they had seen
were
small in comparison to those they now passed.
Most were large enough that the road could have been tripled in size and still
would have passed easily through the trunks of the trees, had the elves desired
to create such a spectacle.

No sooner had they started to
get used to the gigantic trees when Calta surprised them by announcing, “We
have arrived. Welcome to Lon Antar, my home.”

At first they did not
understand, looking past his sweeping hand to the trees that still made up the
bulk of their surroundings. “Another illusion?” Darius asked. “I don’t see—” His
breath caught in his throat as he finally recognized what he was looking at.

The enormous trees were
close-packed, so close that they were easily joined by cut timber near the
ground so that no gap was left between them, and by bridges and walkways higher
up. The road reached its end at the center of a tree which had a gate built
into its hollowed-out trunk, providing egress through what amounted to a
massive outer wall. As they peered more intently, finer detail became apparent,
ornate decorative carvings and spiraling stairs.

“How large a place is Lon
Antar?” Darius asked,

“And how high do those bridges
go?” Adrianna wanted to know, able to make out the dim shapes even up in the
canopy.

“I’ll let you see for
yourselves, once we are inside. The city rarely disappoints. It is only a shame
we did not arrive at night…I think then our city is at her fairest.”

Brega had gone ahead while
they gawked, and was now having a brief conversation with several elves who
stood guard at the gate. They welcomed him home with smiles and open arms, then
ordered the gate open and stood aside.

Calta led
them into Lon Antar, moving casually to allow his guests time to sate their
curiosity. As they passed under the tree leading into the city proper, they
could see it had many floors and rooms above—far more of the tree had been
hollowed out than just the entrance archway. Lanterns of some sort gave the
interior a soft, yellow glow, but there was no flicker common to the light cast
by a flame. These were imbued with some art or magic to shed such flameless
light, a wise choice considering the dangers of the combination of fire and
wood. Spiral stairs and linking bridges formed a latticework overhead, upon
which many elves went about their daily business.

Once they passed through the
hollowed-out passage, Lon Antar was before them in all its glory. The Dalatus
trees, although they were present at almost regular intervals, were less
densely packed inside, leaving open spaces for travel. Even so, from the
entrance one could not see the ends of the city right, left, or forward. Here,
too, it was obvious the elven craftsmen knew how to handle materials other than
wood, as stone, metal, and glass were used freely, adding complexity and beauty
to their homes, as well as to places of leisure and commerce. The blue-skinned
inhabitants were clearly intrigued by the newcomers, but their looks were
neither hard nor cold.

After Calta sent Jarax ahead
to announce the arrival of the guests from the south, along with their request
to see the queen and news of the disturbing object they carried, he saw them to
their quarters, a group of rooms on the third floor of one of the larger trees.
The fact that this tree was under guard was not specifically called out, but
the guards made their presence obvious, and Calta made no effort to shield his
guests from the fact that they would be watched. After they were settled in
their rooms, he told them he would see to it that refreshment was provided, and
that he’d be back with news of when they might expect to see Queen Aerlos.

He was back a little over
three hours later, and found the companions sharing a small meal in Silas’
room. “The queen wishes me to bid you welcome, and apologizes that she is
pressed for time. She will see you tomorrow. Until then, it is my good fortune
to be allowed to show you our beloved home, and to act as your host for
dinner.”

“The queen certainly owes us
no apology,” Silas replied. “As to the rest, you have been more than a gracious
host and guide already, but we would gladly partake of your hospitality once
more.”

“Excellent,” replied Calta. “Shall
I return in an hour? You can finish your food and freshen up a bit.”

“We’ll look forward to it,”
Adrianna said.

That evening was the most
pleasant any of them could recall stretching back over many years. If only for
a short time, they left their fears and worries behind, and lost themselves in
the beauty of the elven city and the bonds of friendship that had been forged
between them. Calta’s table was not over-abundant, but everyone ate their fill,
and fresh meat and vegetables were a treat. Barlow even got the fresh-baked
bread he had longed for only a few weeks earlier. When they said goodnight it
was with more than a little regret. Anxious as they had been to see the queen,
it now signaled a return of their focus to the burden they carried with them.

Dawn broke clear, crisp and
cool, and they were waiting with some apprehension when the guards came for
them. They were led through the streets and toward the Queen’s Court, housed in
one of the larger trees toward the center of the city. Calta had pointed it out
to them the previous evening, but today they would go inside to see if their
long trek north would bear fruit. None wanted to consider the journey’s cost. Luke’s
life was a high price to pay regardless of what resulted from their meeting
with Queen Aerlos.

The Queen’s Court was, of
course, finely decorated, being the centerpiece of the city, but its most
unique feature was that it consisted of three concentric areas, rather than
open space in the center with the rooms around the perimeter, as was common
inside the other trees of the city. The innermost part was the queen’s private
residence, while around that was her throne room. The largest ring was the
Court itself, where much of the business of running the elven kingdom took
place. The Court was a crowded, bustling place, but the companions were ushered
swiftly through and into the throne room. As the door closed behind them, the
noise and turmoil of the outer chamber was shut off, replaced by a calm quiet
that made this inner chamber seem all the more regal, almost holy.

Queen Aerlos rose to greet
them. If age had stolen any of her beauty, the visitors would have been
hard-pressed to picture her even fairer, but her face, especially her eyes,
radiated a confidence that only long years and experience can bestow. “Welcome,”
she said. “I am Aerlos, Queen of the Ice Elves. I greet you as friends.” Her
voice was soothing, but if she gave a command one doubted she could be denied. She
looked at each of them in turn, her smile growing as her gaze fell upon Silas. “It
is a pleasure to see you again, Silas, after all these years. I take it by your
attire that your training was completed successfully.”

“It was,” Silas replied with a
bow. “I am honored to have not been forgotten.”

After the others had
introduced themselves, Aerlos sat on her throne, a high-backed wooden chair
with intricately-carved arms and legs, and said, “You have traveled far, and
through much peril and loss to see me.” Here her gaze lingered for just a
second on Darius, who eventually looked to the ground. “I only hope that any
help I may provide proves worthy of such a journey. Tell me how I might aid
you. Speak freely, for we are alone.”

They had noticed that the
guards had merely escorted them to the door, not followed them in, and that no
attempt had been made to take their weapons. They knew it was no oversight, and
it spoke less to any trust the elves might be showing them than to the power
Aerlos had. Rumors of her skill with magic were well-known even in the south.

“We know your time is
precious, and you have many things to oversee,” Silas said. “But there is much
that has happened on our journey you may wish to know.”

“You are correct on both
counts. But I have some understanding of what it is you carry, and would hear
your tale in full, if you are willing to tell it. It is likely to be far more
important than my daily duties.”

Silas deferred to Darius, who
started the tale from the beginning, the others joining in and adding detail or
clarification as needed. Aerlos listened intently throughout, but asked many
questions concerning the otherworldly creatures they had encountered.

Darius had started to pull the
book from his pack at his first mention of it, but Aerlos had quickly asked him
to leave it where it was. Other offers to present it while they told their
story were likewise denied. When they had finished, Aerlos asked for a few
moments, which she spent in silence pondering all that she had heard. She took
in a deep breath, let it out, and said, “I am ready to see the book now.”

Darius took the book from his
pack and stepped toward her.

She held up her hands, a
warding gesture. “I do not wish to touch it. Please just lay it on the ground.”

Darius did as he was asked,
then backed away with his head bowed. When he finally lifted his chin, he found
that Aerlos was looking at him rather than the book.

“I mean no insult,” she told
him. “But I fear to even touch such an object.”

“No insult taken,” Darius
replied. “I felt…odd the first time I took it. Like bugs were crawling on my
skin, and in my mind. I wanted to drop it and flee, but I couldn’t do that, not
if I wanted to help my sister. I’ve held it enough now…” He shrugged and then
said, “I guess I’ve gotten used to it.”