The Hidden Realm: Book 04 - Ennodius (31 page)

After a last look around, Ascilius led the way out of his secret room. The door swung silently shut behind the three companions, its outline vanishing so that there was no clue left behind to give away its existence. For a moment, Ascilius stood lost in thought in front of the closed door.

“I wish we dared return to the second level to search for more supplies,” he said finally to Elerian, “but the risk of running into the smaller dragons is too great.”

“I am surprised we have not been attacked already with all the noise we have been making over the last two weeks,” observed Elerian.

“The walls of my shop are thick are thick enough to have muffled most of the noise we made,” replied Ascilius. “Besides, it would take a small army of dragons to patrol every passageway in the city. More than likely, they are watching the main ramp again, expecting us to pass that way eventually. The front gate to the city is also certain to be guarded.”

“How will we reach the castella, then?” asked Elerian.

“There is tunnel leading out of the city by the back gates. We can use it to reach the castella if Eboria has not yet discovered and blocked it up,” replied the Dwarf. Ascilius paused a moment before going on. “Before we attempt to reach this exit, Elerian, let me explain something about the nature of dragon fire which may be of use to you. It is said in our histories that, if one is skilled in magic, there is an instant when the flames emerge from a dragon’s mouth where one can seize control of them and render them harmless. A dragon may then be defeated by strength of arms.”

“Has anyone ever put this method to the test?” asked Elerian, a note of doubt in his voice.

“Once, long ago, King Durus was said to have defeated the dragon fire of Nigrum the black when the dragon attacked the city of Narses,” replied Ascilius.

“I thought that city was still in the possession of the dragon,” said Elerian in a puzzled voice.

“Alas, Durus defeated Nigrum’s flames but fell victim to his claws,” said Ascilius sadly. “Even without its fire, a dragon is still a deadly opponent. We may fare better, however, for there are three of us and we have better weapons.”

“Hopefully, this is one legend we will not have to put to the test,” said Elerian as he followed Ascilius and Tonare to the back door of the forge room.

Ascilius stopped before the door, turning to face Elerian. “If I knew another way out of the city, I would take it now no matter how dangerous it might be, for the path we will take now will lead us through the hall that lies before the back gate. I fear that Eboria may have made her lair in that hall, for no other place in the city would suit her as well. If she is there sleeping on her golden bed, I cannot think how we will get by her without waking her. Once she is roused from her slumber, there will be no escaping her notice even if you use your ring to make us invisible Elerian, for she can see us with her third eye.”

“Perhaps we will find that she is out hunting or that she has chosen some other place for her bedroom,” suggested Elerian. “Let us at least go and have a look. I think the time has come to leave Ennodius even if we must fight our way out.”

“Capricious he may be, but he has the courage of a lion,” thought Ascilius approvingly to himself at Elerian’s words.

“What about you Tonare,” he asked, turning to the dentire. “Are you willing to risk your life by following us through Eboria’s lair?”

“I will follow you,” replied Tonare in his rough voice, his little eyes glittering fiercely. “What better way to die than fighting the creature that brought about the death of my master.”

“Follow me then,” said Ascilius to Tonare and Elerian, filled with gladness that he had two such stalwart companions at his back. After removing the closing spells from the back door of the workshop, Ascilius first lifted and then set aside the heavy crossbar. Calling Tonare to his side, he cautiously opened the door.

“Is there any danger about Tonare?” he asked the dentire softly.

The great, striped dog stepped out into the dark tunnel at once, putting his nose into the still air.

“There is no danger near us,” he replied after a moment in his rough voice.

 Satisfied that the way was clear, Ascilius and Elerian also left the workshop. His way illuminated by the faint golden rays of his tiny mage light, Ascilius set off down the tunnel with Elerian and Tonare following close behind him.

“It seems hard to believe that I have spun my hourglass eight times since entering Ascilius’s forge room,” thought Elerian to himself as he walked quiet as a shadow to Ascilius’s right. “I wonder how Anthea has fared over the last week. I expected her to come to me at least once, but perhaps she has finally become immersed in the pleasures of her father’s court. I am sure that by now the young lords of Tarsius have been drawn to her side like bees to a fragrant flower. Still, it might be better so,” he thought glumly to himself as that bleak, alien land revealed to him by his far seeing orb suddenly rose from his memory to trouble his mind. “It does not seem likely that my path will lead me back to Tarsius regardless of how my adventure with Ascilius ends.”

ANTHEA

As Elerian and his two companions cautiously made their way through the dark tunnels of Ennodius, Anthea, dressed all in white, greeted the sunrise from a terrace high in the white tower where she had her spacious, airy chambers in far off Niveaus. Her calm demeanor and cool blue eyes gave no hint of the impatience which burned inside her, an impatience fueled by an inability to return to Elerian’s side since she had distracted the dragons in Ennodius.

“It is becoming plain to me that my use of the beech leaf takes a toll of my strength,” she thought to herself as her eyes took in the valley before her, slowly shedding the dark mantle of night as the rays of the morning sun crept across it from the east. Anthea found that she could easily see as far as the outer wall now, another of the small changes that seemed to occur in her daily.

“After I appeared to Elerian the first time, I was not able to use the talisman for over a week,” she reminded herself, continuing the thought interrupted by the golden sunrise. “Soon, I should be able to use it again according to the pattern that has begun to emerge, for it has been ten days since I reached his side in Ennodius. Already, I have begun leaving my body again.”

Anthea cast her mind back to the restless night she had just passed. Lying sleepless in her bedchamber, the silver beech leaf blazing like a small star around her fair white neck, she had taken the form of a wraith, a fine thread of golden light tethering her shade to her corporeal form, feeding power into her insubstantial form. She had followed the golden thread leading from her ruby ring as far as the miniscule portal through which it disappeared, but she had not been able to summon the power to pass through the portal itself.

“Soon, soon,” she had reassured herself, harkening back to the time she had reached Elerian in Ennodius. On that night too, she had left her body, staring pensively at the slender golden thread that stretched from her ruby ring toward the west, disappearing after a short distance into a tiny circle of golden light. That thread, she knew from her adventure in Dymiter’s ruined dwelling, led to Elerian’s ring, but it had rebuffed every effort she made to pass through it a second time. Then, a feeling had come over her that she was needed, intensifying and gaining strength until she was suddenly able to command the powers of the beech leaf that she wore.

Eagerly, she had entered the slender, glowing thread emerging from her ring, her shade elongating and changing shape as it followed that golden path through the tiny portal, emerging at last behind Elerian and Ascilius. It had been great fun to see those two brave warriors start like young boys caught in mischief at the sound of her voice and even greater fun to lead the dragons away from them. Her annoyance and disappointment had been extreme when she had suddenly found herself back in her bedroom after leading away the second dragon.

“I wish that we could have talked,” she thought to herself forlornly, wondering how Elerian had fared in the meantime. Her ring told her that he was alive, but in her flight from the dragons, Anthea had perceived, even through the limited senses of a wraith, that the city was a dead place, empty of life.

 “I think that Elerian will find no treasure there and perhaps no survivors either,” she thought sadly to herself. “If I find that he has not met with success in his quest, then I will embark on my plan to travel to his side through the northern pass near the gates of Iulius, for I will not remain in Tarsius alone if there is no hope that he will return to my side.”

Deeming it prudent to be prepared for any eventuality, she had already made her arrangements, hiding all the things she would need to take with her in a remote hunting lodge that her father maintained in the foothills north of the city. Near the lodge, there was a pass north through the mountains. It was guarded by a small fortress, making the way out difficult but not impossible, for in the heights to the west of the fortress, she had long ago discovered a game trail that could be negotiated by a surefooted horse.

“I can cast an illusion spell to hide myself from the sentries while I travel over the game trail,” she had thought to herself.

Once she reached the open plains, Anthea knew that no one would be able to catch her even if she was pursued, for she planned to take three horses with her, all neat-footed mares with good endurance. Switching from one to the other, free from the human need to sleep, she could ride continuously for days if need be, stopping only to let the horses drink and graze.

Filled with restless energy, Anthea abandoned her high lookout to take a light breakfast. After her brief meal, she changed her clothes before riding out of the city on her mare, Portia, followed by a small company of guards, for Orianus was mindful of the fact that Torquatus’s traitor had yet to be unearthed. At the gates, she was joined by a group of knights ranging from young men her own age to well seasoned warriors with gray in their long black hair. Knowing her habit of riding Portia each morning, these uninvited admirers waited for her each day by the gate, each making some excuse to accompany her.

“They pursue me as closely as a pack of hounds running a stag,” thought Anthea impatiently to herself as her unsolicited entourage fell in beside her. Although she secretly considered them a nuisance, she spoke kindly to her suitors, both to please her father and because her former sharpness had become muted, for she could look to the future with hope now, eagerly awaiting the day when she and Elerian would be together again.

Hoping to discourage some of those who sought her hand, she had challenged the boldest among them to sporting duels with blunt swords as the price of her company. Supple, skillful, and gifted now with an unlooked for strength, she had pummeled her suitors unmercifully, but with bruised bodies and humbled pride, the knights still returned to her side at every opportunity. Orianus secretly encouraged them to vie for her favor, but it was hardly necessary, for they were caught fast in the spell of her face and slim figure as if some hint of her true beauty shone through the illusion spell that was meant to mask it.

After a long gallop through the wild lands north of the city, Anthea returned to the royal palace, leaving her disappointed suitors behind. Seeking out her brother, she pressed Dacien into service, so that she might practice the art of battle, for he was now recovered from his wound. Although Dacien was accounted one of the finest warriors in the kingdom, he was no more a match for her than the knights she had defeated.

“You but play with me now,” he said to her after a contest with blunt swords in which she beat him easily, his light banter at odds with the worried look in his clear gray eyes. Dacien remained apprehensive about the changes occurring in his sister, changes which he alone was aware of, for Anthea still had not told her father that she was becoming more Elf than human.

“I must practice, no matter how poor the swordsman who opposes me,” replied Anthea, blue eyes shining with laughter as she whirled and thrust at an imaginary enemy, her wooden blade making an ominous thrum through the air.

“You have become the most deadly swordsman in the realm, Anthea,” asked Dacien. “Why this constant need to practice? There is no war in Tarsius at present.”

 “One must be prepared for any eventuality,” replied Anthea cryptically, for she did not wish to reveal even to Dacien that she might leave Tarsius if Elerian failed in his quest for treasure.

“Keep your secrets then,” said Dacien with a wry smile. “Will you at least come to the feast tonight? It would please father if you graced us with your presence.”

“I have other plans,” said Anthea shortly, for she had no patience for the galas organized by her father to put her within reach of her suitors. Instead, she met secretly each evening with her father’s mages. What had suddenly swayed the old men to teach her the ways of magic, they would not say, but they were now willing to teach her the basics of magic, continuing the lessons which Elerian had begun before he left.

Returning to her apartment, Anthea changed and bathed before eating a simple dinner in her quarters. She was served by an older second cousin named Alypia, her only companion and retainer. Alypia had come to live in the royal palace years ago when her husband was killed in the wars against the Goblins. Once she and Anthea had been close, but now they had little to say to each other, for Alypia, who known Anthea since she was a child, now felt strangely shy and uneasy around her cousin. A hidden power cloaked her, and the silver beech leaf which she wore at her throat often burned with a soft white light, like a star come to earth.     

“How would she treat me if I were to drop the illusion which cloaks me?” Anthea often wondered to herself.

“Will you not go to your father’s banquet tonight instead of stealing off on your own,” inquired Alypia softly when Anthea finished her meal. “It is not good for you to be so much alone, Anthea,” she said worriedly.

“I have other business tonight Alypia,” replied Anthea kindly as she threw a gray cloak over her simple gown. After slipping out of her apartment, she unexpectedly came face to face with Merula after turning a corner. A frown wrinkled her fair brow, for she wondered at once what business brought him to this part of the palace.

“Good evening Anthea,” said Merula pleasantly, the first time he had spoken to her since their falling out at the Troll Wood. If he had seen her brief frown, he chose to ignore it, for his handsome face bore no trace of the anger it had exhibited during their last turbulent argument. There was, however, an odd fevered brightness in his blue eyes that Anthea thought strange.

“A good evening to you also, Merula,” she responded, equally pleasantly, but not slowing her pace as she stepped to her left to walk around him. She no longer felt any animosity toward Merula, but neither did she feel any desire to talk to him.

Unexpectedly, his right hand reached out, seizing her right wrist in a strong grip and stopping her in midstride. Instinctively, Anthea’s left hand dropped to the handle of the slender dagger hanging from her belt, the blade whispering against the leather scabbard as it slipped free. Its gleaming point, razor edged and deadly, came to rest against Merula’s throat in a motion too quick for the eye to follow.

Feeling cold steel against his flesh, Merula stiffened, hardly daring to breathe, for there was a gleam in Anthea’s eyes that warned him not to move.

“Stay a moment, and hear my words,” he pleaded, his eyes now fever bright.

“Is he ill?” Anthea wondered as she effortlessly broke his grip on her wrist. The silver beech leaf out of sight beneath her gown was suddenly warm against her skin. A sense of her growing power, both exhilarating and frightening flowed through her. “I could destroy his strong body in an instant,” she thought to herself as she sheathed her dagger. As if some of her thought had reached his mind, Merula stepped back a pace. The pleading look had not left his face, and his eyes were still disturbingly bright.

“This is not the way to gain my attention, Merula,” she said coldly. “If you would talk to me then request an audience. In truth, though, I think it best if we keep our distance,” she said in as kind a voice as she could manage.

“Can we not at least be friends then, Anthea?” asked Merula, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“I think not, Merula,” said Anthea firmly, “for I think friendship alone will never satisfy you. Turn your gaze elsewhere, for there are many fair maidens in the court who would be honored to be your life companion.”

Merula’s eyes suddenly went cold, although his features remained pleasant. “I will do as you wish my lady. I will not offend your eyes again with the sight of my face,” he said in a voice that was now edged with bitterness. Spinning on his right heel, he stalked stiffly away.

“I have offended him again,” Anthea thought regretfully to herself, but she did not call Merula back. “Better a clean break than to give him false hope,” she thought to herself. “Were I allow him near me, the jealousy he feels toward Elerian would only grow and fester, for Merula is too proud a man to accept crumbs from the table when the banquet is at hand. Perhaps he will now turn to some other maid,” she thought hopefully to herself as she continued on to the chamber where the mages awaited her.

By the time Anthea had completed her nightly lesson in magic, she had forgotten the incident the incident with Merula. After retiring to her apartment, she threw aside her cloak and lay down on her bed. Immediately, she took the form of a wraith, trying fruitlessly again and again to follow the golden thread that led from her ring.

“Soon, but not tonight,” was her disappointed thought when she finally tired and returned to her body.

Rising from her bed, Anthea walked lightly out to the wide, dark terrace outside of her bedroom. Standing by the stone railing bordering its edge, her long black hair blowing in the soft night breeze, her thoughts and night wise eyes both turned to the north, the ache in her heart almost a physical pain.