The Elf King (34 page)

L
ord Estrial wandered the garden pathway at his house, pacing
back and forth between the giant mass of flowers and bushes as the
sun began to rise at the horizon. He did not sleep the previous
night. As he lay in bed next to Oskalins, his thoughts remained
solely on Breedoria. He second-guessed their decision for hours,
until he began to cry. He then left his wife and spent the rest of
the morning in the gardens.

He was still pacing when a
voice called out to him. He turned to see Dornawee walking up the
stone path towards him. His face was nearly as stricken as his
own.

“
Good morning, old friend.”
Terill greeted.

Dornawee handed him the
staff. His hands were red with blood still. “Give them
this.”

“
You’ve done it, then?”
Terill accepted the staff and looked it over with a smile. “Very
good, Dorn.”

“
I wish I could take the
credit, my Lord.” Dornawee’s eyes were still in sorrow, his posture
was slumped and he looked so tired.

“
Are you okay,
Dorn?”

Dornawee looked away to the
sunrise. His voice was distant, his thoughts someplace else
entirely. “By the time you figure out what life is about, you are
faced with its replacement.”

“
Dorn?” Terill was
concerned.

Dornawee sighed. “I’m going
home to my wife, my Lord. I do not expect to be bothered any time
soon.”

Dornawee looked briefly at
Terill, then walked away. Terill stood where he was until the old
elf was out of sight, watching him go, thinking of what he had
said. He held the staff in his hands and swore he felt a
pulse.

“
I wish the same for
myself, old friend.” Terill walked back inside with the hope of
finding Oskalins still asleep.

Chapter 19

Q
enn sat huddled next to Prevost under the tarp listening to
the steady tapping of the rain, his knees pressed against his chest
with his arms wrapped around them as he stared out into the gloomy
mist, feeling the boat rock in the waves. They were traveling north
up the Spira in a long, flat, wood-planked fishing boat, moving
slowly with woods and plains to the east and the Shard Peaks to the
west. Rain began to fall shortly after they had departed Skadar
Port and had not lessened in two days. Visibility was less than
twenty yards in any direction, with the mist and the low hanging
clouds blending with the rain to form a grey shroud around them.
Prevost found a tarp and Qenn helped him string it up to posts
belonging to a room long since removed, creating a make-shift roof
to keep them somewhat dry. Kamen Ode remained apart from the group,
both mentally and physically, holding his own at the front of the
boat, saying nothing at all. Through the pattering of the rain,
though, Qenn thought he could make out the big man weeping. He
dared not ask; no one bothered him.

They had departed the
sinful city with nightmares still fresh in their minds. Kamen Ode
had carried his mother aboard and laid her at the front of the
boat. A burial would be set once they were ashore someplace safe.
The demons would not feast on her, he cried. They had done all to
her that they would. Qenn and Prevost had carried Kandish’s limp
form and laid her next to them where they had tented the tarp. She
was in a comatose state from the strain of her power, they thought.
But they could only speculate on that, and the fact that she was
still breathing allowed them hope that she would survive whatever
process her body was struggling with. And out of all of Kamen’s
men, only three remained alive. They stood watch at the corners of
the boat, one of them stood looking ahead, more of a watch to their
sunken leader than anything. None of them spoke.

The only conversations that
took place were between Prevost and Qenn, and the topics were
mostly of Kandish. They spoke softly about what she had done for
them, about the possibility of her death, and what they thought her
body was going through. They skirted the issue about her power,
though neither saw it as a downfall. She was special, they
agreed.

Qenn saw her uniqueness in
a different way. Prevost noticed.

“
I think she likes you,
too,” Prevost said with a slight smile, watching Qenn’s head turn
quickly from her face to his. “I am simply observing.”

Qenn shook his head
incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

Prevost smiled. “Tell her
how you feel about her.”

Qenn was stunned and
slightly embarrassed. He was quiet for a moment. He was not sure
how he felt about Prevost reading him as he had done. “I think you
are a bit mistaken, Prevost. She’s sick. I just want her to get
better.”

Prevost laughed hard. He
patted Qenn on the shoulder. “Is that so?”

“
Doesn’t matter anyway.”
Qenn turned his attention back to her. “I don’t think she likes me
at all.”

“
I wouldn’t be so quick to
jump to conclusions.” Prevost stared out across the Spira. “Women
don’t always want a man to know how they feel.”

“
Why do you think that is?
I mean with Kandish.”

“
She keeps herself well
protected.”

“
What do you mean?” Qenn
brushed a few strands of her red hair away from her
ears.

“
I mean, she’s a tough
girl. She probably didn’t start out that way. And now she keeps
everyone at a distance so she doesn’t get hurt.”

Qenn didn’t respond again.
He began thinking of what Prevost had said about her. He remembered
the first time he saw her, shackled in the wagon. Prevost was
right. She was tough. She had to be.

“
You’re going to be okay,”
he whispered into her ear when he thought no one was
looking.

Qenn spent the first day
and night doing nothing but stroking her red hair and using his
body as a shield against the wind. He wanted to be there when she
awoke, he wanted her to know how important what she did was. He
remembered the last words she gave him, and only now understood why
she did so. The pain and worry he saw in her eyes then was still
fresh in his memory. She was so beautiful, he thought. She
shouldn’t have to carry such a burden. Prevost was right again when
he thought she must have been through a lot because of what she
could do. That would explain why she was so distant, Prevost had
told him. But she was wrong about him. When she awoke, he wanted to
make her see that she had nothing to be ashamed about.

As nightfall crept in and
the temperature dropped, the rain became that much more cumbersome.
Qenn brought up the idea to Prevost of landing the boat and finding
some shelter for the night, but Prevost shot down the idea almost
instantly. He told Qenn that they would put as much distance
between them and the nightmare they had escaped from. Turning
inland would leave them open to the demons lurking, maybe even
following.

Qenn offered no retort,
finding the other’s last statement discomforting. They had been
followed it seemed from the moment they left Meadow. Why would he
think it should be otherwise now? Prevost offered Qenn to sleep,
assuring him that he would be woken if Kandish’s condition changed
at all. Qenn sighed, then laid back, struggling to get comfortable.
He tossed for several hours, so he thought, and it must have been
well into the night by the time his eyes remained closed and his
mind shut down long enough for sleep to enter.

The morning of the second
day brought no hope to anything, as Qenn woke up to find everyone
in their places and the rain pouring steadily. Sometime during the
night however, Kamen had brought his mother’s body over to rest
with them. Qenn was unsure why it had mattered now, and his
questioning look to Prevost went unanswered. Prevost looked as if
he had not slept at all, and none of them had anything to eat, he
knew. He quietly asked Prevost what the odds were that they would
stop long enough to forage for some food. Prevost thought about it
for a moment, then rose and met with Kamen at the front of the
boat. Their talk was very brief, and when Prevost returned, all he
told Qenn was, “Soon.”

It was then that Qenn
brought up the subject of their whereabouts. As he began talking,
he noticed Kamen Ode listening. “Where are we heading?”

Prevost was calm and quiet.
“North.”

Qenn was hoping for a
better response. “Thank you, Prevost. But north to where? Where is
this river taking us?”

“
Do you know where it is
that you need to go, elf?” Kamen responded, his voice was laced
with bitterness. “You do, don’t you? Did she show it to you as
well? Did you see it?”

Qenn was uncertain what the
other was referring to, but he knew Kamen was serious. He thought
about his wording carefully. “I know that Kandish and I are on a
mission of great importance. I know that the war is coming and that
we have to act to stop it. Exactly where we are going, no, I don’t
know.”

“
Did she tell you that?”
Kamen was turning angry. “Did the Seer show you a vision
too?”

“
No. A sorcerer showed me.
Before we left Skadar Port, he found us and told us what was
happening. He showed us a vision of what would happen if the demons
were not stopped. Tane went with him to fight with the army. When
he took my brother, he told me what I must do. He also said that I
would have help. I believe that help was you.” Qenn stared into the
angry eyes of Kamen Ode for a brief second, then looked away as if
he had done something wrong.

Kamen walked over to them,
stopping at the edge of the tarp, still standing in the rain. His
face was a tangle of angry lines. His eyes held dangerous thoughts.
“And what if I don’t help you? What if I have my own
plans?”

Qenn shrugged. He had not
given that thought. “Then help will be found elsewhere.”

Kamen Ode was furious. “Do
you have any idea what help you will find? None! No one would be
foolish enough to go where it is you need to be! No
one!”

Kamen stormed away to the
bow, then wheeled back sharply. “You are going to Creatia! A
swampland infested with disease and horrors that you have never
seen before. The home of the demons that attack us! You will never
make it out of there alive! We will all die there!”

Kamen stopped screaming,
though his face and eyes were still washed in anger. “We will
search for a Faerie creature and take something from it, something
powerful. We will carry that weapon down into the earth where
the
Takers
are
born, the very origin of the monster that hates us! And no one can
help you after that! No one can save you!”

Qenn stood to his feet,
angered. “That is where I must go! I don’t care if you come or not!
Port the boat and I’ll get off now if you’d like!”

Qenn calmed, realizing that
he was screaming. His tone eased, his voice turning into more of a
plea than a demand. “My brother went off to fight this war and is
counting on me to help. I will go alone if I must.”

Kamen Ode screamed in
response and returned to his position at the bow, mumbling
viciously to himself. Qenn took his seat next to Prevost. “What was
that about?”

Prevost shrugged. “He knows
something. Whatever it is, he doesn’t like it.”

“
He doesn’t have to help
me.” He regretted his attitude right away, knowing well and full
that he would hate leaving his current company. He turned then to
Prevost, his anger gone now. “I didn’t mean what I said. I mean,
it’s true. None of you have to go with me. But I don’t think I
would make it without you all.”

Prevost smiled. “I doubt
you’ll be by yourself, Qenn.” He pointed to his left, far across
the wide span of water. The mist was thinned and the Shard Peaks
were visible for a few moments. “Shard Peaks. Impassible to any
man.”

Qenn saw the mountains and
thought they resembled broken glass. All angles and slopes, jagged
tops split like scissors for as far as the eye could see. The base
of the mountains ended on the western bank of the Spira, making
Qenn feel small. He was in awe at the sight, momentarily forgetting
everything he was concerned with.

Still staring off in the
distance, he said to Prevost, “You’re right. I do like her. Since
the first time I saw her.”