The Hidden Realm: Book 04 - Ennodius (4 page)

A strange glitter now lit the Tarsi’s eyes.

“The Dwarf and the outlander ride alone,” he replied tersely. “Anthea is with Orianus.”

“The gleam of madness shines in his eyes, already,” thought Torquatus exultantly to himself. “Desire and jealousy have almost overthrown his mind. He is near the precipice, and soon, the least push will suffice send him over the edge, making him ripe to do my bidding.”

“I will send my servants at once to dispose of the two of them,” said Torquatus in a languid voice, as if the matter held little importance for him. “I trust you will remember in the future that I have served your interests.”

“I will look more kindly on your efforts to help me if they achieve greater success,” said the Tarsi contemptuously. “I hope these servants of yours will have better luck than the others you sent against the outlander.”

Again, Torquatus felt the red heat of anger flare up inside of him, fueled by the Tarsi’s insolent tone. It was only with great effort on his part that his handsome features remained composed and friendly.

“I seek only to help you and yet you mock me,” he said in a wounded voice.

“Rid me of this outlander and perhaps I will believe that you are truly my friend,” said the Tarsi coldly. His image faded away, and the portal winked out of existence, ending the ethereal meeting.

As soon as the arrogant face of the Tarsi vanished, a mighty oath suddenly twisted the thin lips of the Goblin King. His eyes flamed, suddenly red as coals, and around him, his throne room trembled, as if the earth had moved beneath it.

“There will be a reckoning for you arrogance, someday, my friend,” Torquatus hissed softly to himself, “but first I will deal with the half blood and his misshapen Dwarf companion.”

Impetuously rising from his cold black throne, Torquatus turned his face to the east. Raising his right hand, he stared for a moment with pleasure at the heavy silver ring that circled his second finger. Seen with his mage sight, it was a swirling band of mingled red and gold energies, huge and bloated with the life forces of the countless mages that it had drained and consumed.

Opening his magical third eye and drawing on the power of his ring, Torquatus sketched the outline of a circle roughly three feet across in the air in front of him with the index finger of his right hand. A gleaming ring of shimmering red light now hung in the air before him, tethered to his silver ring by a slender red thread, which fed the portal the power it needed to maintain itself. When the space within the fiery circle cleared, Torquatus closed his third eye. As if through a clear pane of glass, his dark eyes beheld a green, rolling plain lit by warm, golden sunlight.

The Goblin king narrowed his dark eyes, for the sun’s rays pained them and made him feel lightheaded. Rather than wait for the soothing darkness that was still hours away, Torquatus impatiently began his search. Under his direction, the scene in the confines of the portal changed rapidly as it skimmed across the empty plain. He was familiar with the road that his enemies must follow through Tarsius if they were bound for Ennodius, and after a long search, his persistence was rewarded by the sight of two tiny figures on horseback riding north across the plains.

Torquatus’s dark, cruel eyes filled with a hungry light. Impatience, fueled by a desire to be rid of his chief enemy, swept away his normal caution.

“This time, I will not fail,” he thought to himself triumphantly as he deftly guided the portal closer and closer until it hovered only a few feet above the heads of the two unsuspecting travelers. “I will destroy both of them while I have them within my grasp.”

Torquatus centered his attention on Elerian, for the Dwarf could be dealt with later. He had only to enlarge the portal now before reaching out to grasp his unsuspecting enemy. With one pull of his powerful right arm, he could draw the half Elf through the portal and into his throne room. Once he and Eirian occupied the same space, his enemy would be vulnerable to the magic of his ring, which would drain him of his life force until he was too weak to resist. There would be time then for the most exquisite tortures. Filled with cruel anticipation, Torquatus raised his slender but immensely strong right hand to seize his enemy.

A NEW THREAT

Right at the brink of the portal, Torquatus’s hand suddenly hesitated, rendered immobile by a sudden misgiving. His long fingers trembled with the desire to seize his enemy, but still, he did not thrust his hand through the portal.

“I have the advantage of surprise, but if the half blood resists, it will become a contest of strength in which we will be evenly matched,” thought Torquatus to himself, for he knew that the strength in the lean hands and sinewy arms of his enemy was equal to his own. “If Ascilius comes to his aid, who knows what may happen. Their combined strength might suffice to draw me through the portal into the sunlight where they will have the advantage.” 

As Torquatus hesitated, debating with himself, Elerian felt a sudden chill, as if a shadow had fallen over him, cutting off the warm rays of the sun. Looking up, he was startled to see what appeared to be a window into a dim, red-lit room floating barely an arm's length away in the air above him. Looking down at him through the opening was a pale, cruel face with dark, pitiless eyes. An intricate crown of black iron set with blood red rubies crowned the Goblin’s pale brow and dark locks. His right hand was raised almost to the level of his face as if arrested in the act of reaching out to grasp something. The curved, black painted nails on the ends of the Uruc’s long, strong fingers gleamed, reflecting the red mage lights that illuminated the room behind the Goblin.

Had Elerian displayed the slightest sign of fear or confusion, Torquatus might still have attempted to draw him through the portal, but he saw only anger in Elerian’s clear gray eyes. Even without the crown the Goblin wore, Elerian would have recognized Torquatus at once, for the Goblin king’s malevolent features were indelibly imprinted into his memory. The sight of the creature who had hounded him for most of his life and who was ultimately responsible for the deaths of Balbus and Tullius drove every emotion except the desire for revenge from Elerian’s mind. Without hesitation, he reached over his right shoulder with his right hand for the sword resting in the sheath draped across his back.

An amused smile played about the thin lips of the Goblin king, revealing white, cruelly pointed teeth.

“Another time then,” he said softly as Elerian’s sword cleared its sheath, the polished blade gleaming in the bright sunlight.

Even as Elerian brought his sword down in a glittering arc to cleave his enemy’s skull, the image of Torquatus abruptly vanished. The rasp of Elerian's sword being drawn from its sheath had instantly drawn Ascilius’s attention. The Dwarf tightened his grip on the handle of his ax with his right hand when he looked up and saw the sneering visage of Torquatus an instant before it disappeared ahead of the downward stroke of Elerian’s sword. Ascilius reined in his mare as Enias stopped at Elerian’s silent command.

“Was that Torquatus or an illusion?” the Dwarf asked in a bewildered tone.

“It was the Goblin King,” said Elerian grimly as he first examined the air above him and then the edge of his sword. He was disappointed to note that there was no trace of blood on the bright blade.

“How do you suppose he found us, Ascilius?” asked Elerian in a puzzled voice. “We are no more than two insignificant specks traveling across these wide plains.”

“It was not common knowledge among the Tarsi that I planned to return to Ennodius,” replied Ascilius, “but neither was it any close secret. Word of my intention to return to Ennodius may have reached the wrong ears. If the traitor among the Tarsi somehow informed Torquatus that we had left the War Camp, he had only to explore the paths that lead to Ennodius until he found us. I should have been more cautious about revealing my plans for the future.”

At the mention of the word traitor, Elerian thought at once of Merula. Was the Tarsi so far gone down the path of treachery that he would treat with Torquatus?

“Let this serve as a lesson to both of us to be more close mouthed,” said Elerian as he silently urged Enias to move on. Ascilius’s mare followed the stallion without any prompting from the Dwarf.

“How did he appear in the air above us,” asked Ascilius after a moment.

“A powerful mage such as Torquatus can open large portals or gates to other places,” replied Elerian.

“If that is true, why did he not blast us with a spell before you were aware of him?” asked Ascilius in a baffled voice.

“A spell will not travel through a portal,” explained Elerian. “If Torquatus is to harm us magically, he must first pull us into his space. Before I drew my sword, his hand was raised as if he meant to seize me. Something made him hesitate, however.”

“It is likely that caution made him falter,” replied Ascilius. “He knows your strength and mine. Had he laid hold of you, he would have had no easy time pulling you through his portal if you resisted him. Together, we might even have drawn him out into the sunlight where he would have been severely weakened.” Ascilius’s dark eyes flashed at the thought of having Torquatus within reach of his ax.

“His action smacks of impatience,” continued Ascilius. “Hatred for the both of us no doubt clouded his mind. Had he exercised some restraint, he might have come upon us when we were asleep and dragged one or both of us through his portal before we were even aware of him.”

“We must be wary of further attacks, then,” said Elerian grimly, “as if we did not already face enough danger from the dragon.”

“I doubt that Torquatus will confront us again directly if he can help it,” said Ascilius thoughtfully. “There is no need for him to risk his own life when he has so many servants who will do his bidding without question.”

“Since we cannot alter our route to escape him, I will keep an eye out for him just the same, especially at night when he is at the height of his power,” replied Elerian

Ascilius lapsed back into his former silence, and Elerian, too, was quiet, for he had much to think about. He was in need of a spell that would shield Ascilius and himself from the eyes of Torquatus, but none came to mind because of the Goblin King’s magical third eye. Any sort of concealment spell he cast would be visible to the eyes of the Goblin king, especially at night. Now, more than ever, Elerian longed to be under a forest canopy where he and Ascilius would be shielded from unfriendly eyes without the need of magic.

“Well then, I must do the best that I can,” thought Elerian to himself. He turned to Ascilius and said, “I am going to use my ring to make us invisible. We will be hard to detect as long as the sun is high in the sky, but we will not be able to travel at night, for Torquatus will see the golden light of the ring’s invisibility spell from a long way off with his mage sight.”

“Do what you think is best,” replied Ascilius with an uncharacteristic lack of interest. He sounded rather discouraged to Elerian, as if the thought that they might have to deal with the dragon and the Goblin King at the same time had convinced him that they no longer had any real hope of reaching Ennodius.

Ignoring his companion’s dark mood, Elerian called the silver ring which he had found in Nefandus to his right hand. His mastery of the ring had grown since he first found it, to the extent that he no longer needed to touch something to make it invisible. Effortlessly, he extended the cloak of invisibility which flowed from the ring until it covered himself, Ascilius, and the two horses.

Hidden from mortal sight, the two companions continued to ride into the north, leaving no more sign of their passage than the east wind blowing invisibly across the plains. Hence, when Anthea looked in her portal later that day, she saw no sign of them.

 In far away Ossarium, Torquatus retired to his throne directly after his encounter with Elerian, sinuously sinking his lean frame into the black satin pillows that padded its stony contours. A slight smile still twisted his thin lips, but his eyes were dark and cold as the polished basalt walls of his throne room.

“Perhaps it was all for the best,” he thought to himself. “Patience will serve me best. Rather than risk my own life, I will dispatch my servants to slay or capture the half-blood and his misshapen companion at no hazard to myself. They cannot evade me now that I know the route they follow. In the unlikely event that they manage to escape my minions, they will still have to face the dragon that has made Ennodius its lair. There is no way they can approach the city without coming under the scrutiny of her eagle-eyed gaze.”

Torquatus could not imagine any scenario in which the Eirian and his Dwarf companion could survive an encounter Eboria. If all else failed, she would remove the last obstacle to his plans of conquest.

“Still, I must do what I can to hasten their demise rather than rely entirely on the dragon,” thought Torquatus to himself. He called out in a soft voice that, nonetheless, seemed to fill the whole room. Almost immediately, a tall Uruc named Valgus entered the throne room through a set of iron doors.

Valgus, the captain of Torquatus’s personal guard, had served the Goblin King for centuries, but there was no trace of age on his face or in his supple figure. Only his dark eyes gave a hint of his years, for they were filled with an ancient evil. Pale and handsome, dressed in black mail and soft black leather pants and boots, he advanced toward the throne with a silent, graceful stride until he stood before Torquatus. At his belt, he wore a black sword and a long knife, something only the Dark King's personal guards were allowed to do in his presence. As a sign of his position, Valgus wore a thin iron collar around his neck, and the inside of his left wrist was marked with the outline of a grinning Goblin's skull.

Like all the Urucs in Torquatus’s personal guard, Valgus had only weak mage powers, which made him more susceptible to the control of the collar around his neck, rendering him less of a threat to his king. Torquatus did not trust any of his underlings, for it was in the nature of Goblins to resent and hate those who had authority over them. Jealous, cruel, and spiteful, any one of them would overthrow a weak leader and seek to take his place.

“Even those like Valgus, who remember the old days when the Goblins were few in number and left their hidden caves in the wild places of the world at their own peril, still hate me,” thought Torquatus to himself, regarding his captain with cold, dark eyes. “I have crushed the Elves, driving them from the Middle Realm, but they do not love me for it. If I faltered for a moment, they would tear me apart like a pack of canigrae.”

With his head bent respectfully, hiding his hatred, Valgus waited silently for Torquatus to speak.

“Summon Malevolus to appear before me, Valgus,” said Torquatus in his soft but powerful voice. “Tell him that I have a task for him.”

“At once my lord,” replied Valgus, bowing deeply.

With a supple, silent step he left the throne room, eventually returning with another Uruc, tall and slender like himself but dressed in soft velvet, black as midnight. Malevolus was one of five great mages who had served Torquatus for centuries, leading his armies and governing in his name. There had been a sixth at one time named Lurco, but he had mysteriously disappeared shortly after the Dwarf Ascilius and his chain companion had escaped from their captivity in the iron mines. Cunning and full of ambition, any one of them would gladly have slain their Dark King and taken his throne, for they all had a lust for power which equaled Torquatus’s. Only the presence of the silver ring Torquatus wore on his right hand kept them in check, for it gave him the power to destroy all five of his mages at once if that was his desire.

Mindful of this fact, Malevolus wore a subservient look on his face as he entered the throne room. He was careful not to meet the Goblin king's penetrating gaze, but Torquatus already knew his servant's mind and delighted in his futile hatred.

“I have a task for you Malevolus,” he said softly. “I wish you to make a septilire. Bring it here when I next summon you.”

Malevolus did not raise his head, but a barely perceptible shiver passed over his body as a thrill of fear lanced through him like a lightning bolt. Torquatus saw him quiver and laughed quietly, enjoying his discomfiture. Red sparks burned in the depths of his dark eyes as he drank in his underling’s fear. He let Malevolus squirm for a moment before he spoke again.

“There is no cause for fear, Malevolus; the septilire is not for you.”

“Who is to receive it, my lord?” asked Malevolus, unable to hide the relief in his voice.

“It is for the Hesperian who escaped from the mines with Ascilius,” said Torquatus, powerless to keep the hatred out of his voice. “Soon, I will set you on his track. You will place the septilire in his body. Failing in that, you will make every effort to slay him and his companion,” he said softly.

“My lord,” said Malevolus hesitantly, “two mages failed to kill him during the last attempt on his life in Tarsius, and yet, you are sending only one now.”

“Orianus’s daughter will not be there to save him this time,” said Torquatus impatiently. “If you are afraid to deal with him alone, take four of my personal guard and a pack of lupins with you. During the confusion of a battle, it should not be too difficult to strike the Hesperian with the septilire.”

“My lord, it is caution not fear that guides me,” said Malevolus. A fine sweat broke out on his pale brow, for it was dangerous to dispute with Torquatus. “A larger force is more certain to overwhelm the Hesperian and his companion, leaving them no chance to escape.”

Torquatus studied Malevolus for a moment with narrowed eyes. It was his habit to hide the limitations of his power, but he saw no harm in giving Malevolus an explanation this time.