The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) (12 page)

Sulgor spun from the throne and exited the tent.

Woil remained not far from the pavilion’s opening. When his king appeared, the Lamentation again bowed low and backed from Sulgor’s presence.

“Walk with me,” barked Sulgor the Magnificent.

The Lamentation complied. They moved through the camp of Ulrog toward another pavilion that Sulgor’s personal guard busily erected.

“I admire your guile, Woil,” stated the Malveel king without looking to the Lamentation. “However, be careful whom you ingratiate and whom you deny.”

Sulgor halted and turned with burning eyes.

“If you choose poorly, you may make a stronger enemy than an ally.”

The Malveel king turned away and moved toward the tent leaving Woil frozen in place.

Kael staggered and fell face forward onto a hard, stone floor. He gasped for air, as if he held his breath while inside the obelisk. After a moment his racing heart slowed and his breathing calmed. He found a moment to smile. Joy surrounded him. His conversation within the obelisk lightened his load. He chuckled.

“Do you need a hand up?” asked a voice above him.

Kael raised his eyes from the floor and they focused on a pair of soft leather shoes two yards in front of him. He looked higher and saw Ader dressed in blue robes, sitting in an old armchair within a small circular library, sipping from a tea cup. The old man stood and moved toward Kael with his arm extended.

“Let me help you up, my boy. You’ve had quite a journey,” he smiled.

“Ader!  You’re ... alive!” grinned Kael as he rose.

The smile fell and the old man knit his brow. He struggled with his next words.

“I ... am not Ader,” he said softly.

The pair faced one another in a moment of awkward confusion. Kael immediately recognized the truth in the statement. This man appeared nearly identical to Ader but both subtle and distinct differences became apparent.

First, his physical appearance was altered. This man looked to be softer than Ader. His features carried none of the worn and weathered aspect of the tinker Kael knew. A shock of white hair, drawn back and entwined in a long braid, replaced the short cropped stubble that peppered the crown of Ader’s head.

Second, the softness of this man’s physical appearance carried over to his speech and demeanor. An evident refinement which Ader never possessed or discarded centuries ago came across in his speech. An innate kindness replaced Ader’s harsh tone. Delicate gestures substituted for Ader’s deliberate movement. Whoever this man was, although he looked remarkably like Kael’s mentor, he most certainly was not Ader DeHartstron. The man kindly extended his hand once more, this time in greeting.

“I am pleased to meet you, Kael Brelgson,” smiled the man. “I am Alel of Forend ... your grandfather.”

“The Mnim army drives the Eru far south. New Ulrog packs pour over the passes of the Mirozert. Some will attack your forest camps and others will attempt to flank you and cutoff escape. Amird’s Chosen lead them. You stand outnumbered and your people at risk. To remain in the Derol is madness.”

“You speak sense, Elf,” replied Lijon. “But what are we to do? Run? Where? We are men of the forest. We live, hunt and fight here. To abandon the Derol is to abandon our advantage.”

“There is no advantage, Master Lijon,” replied Lilywynn. “The Ulrog’s numbers are too great. The power of their leaders too strong. You will surely be overrun.”

Portlo stood and paced the clearing. The knights under his command and their woodsmen allies followed him with their eyes. Finally, he spoke.

“Lijon is correct,” stated Portlo.

“Huh, finally,” laughed the woodsman to his comrades. “I began to think I’d gone addlebrained.”

His comrades laughed with him and Portlo advanced to put a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“You are correct. The Derol is where we fight most ably,” smiled Portlo. “To abandon it is folly. If we retreat to the plains we lose our element of surprise. Also, to search for allies at this late hour is foolish. By uniting with the Eru, we allow the Ulrog time to unite the Mnim, the Scythtar and the Mirozert. We must stand and fight here, in our homeland.”

A roar of approval erupted from the woodsmen. They beat their chests and raised their fists on high. The knights of Astel gave solid nods of approval and talked quietly amongst themselves.

“However ...” continued Portlo silencing the crowd. “Prince Eidyn makes good sense concerning the safety of our people. There is no logic in keeping them here in harms way. They offer no support and only serve as an anchor to our movements.”

“But I would not hide them somewhere within the Southern Derol while we fight,” said Lijon. “By our side is where they are best protected.”

Many of the woodsmen agreed.

“No, not byourside, my friend, but by the side of allies. We will send them south toward the lake of the horsemen. If we do not overcome the enemy then possibly the horsemen will.”

Protests erupted in the clearing.

“We will fend for our own ...”

“Derolians will stand or die for Derolians ...”

“Gentlemen!” barked Portlo. “Honor. Duty. Loyalty. You abandon none of these, for most assuredly you will lay your lives down for your people. However, let us not allow foolish notions of honor to make your sacrifice a vain effort. If we slow the Ulrog, if we hurt them, weaken them, give our allies time to devise a plan to halt them, then we accomplish much. Why add the bodies of our women and children to the funeral pyres of sacrifice?”

The clearing silenced. Lijon stared into the flames of the bonfire crackling amidst the group.

“It is as Lord Portlo says,” murmured the large woodsman. “We will fight. Our lives will purchase the time required for our people to escape.”

Portlo moved toward his friend and extended his hand. Lijon grasped it tightly and their eyes locked.

“Prince Eidyn?” called Portlo, his gaze unwavering. “Your father leads the Elves north as we speak?”

“That is what I pray, my lord.”

“Then I will give you the precious task of guiding our people to the safety of King Leinor’s forces. Are you up for the task?”

“It will be my honor, Portlo of Astel,” replied Eidyn bowing low.

CHAPTER 9: THE SHADOWS OF OTHERS

THE ESCORT PROVIDED by the Counselor impressed Rada. The Elf expertly led the Borz Chieftain through the Nagur avoiding discovery by the Elven soldiers patrolling the wood. Late afternoon on the second day since they departed Borz arrived. Rada and the escort stood in sight of the Almar Ring and rested a moment.

“I hope Viday and my people are finding their journey through the Nagur as uneventful,” whispered Rada.

“The patrols seem to be concentrated to the north,” replied the Elf. “As I said, I am not privy toall of the Counselor’s plans, but he must be influencing the placement of the security troops in order to open a pathway for the Borz.”

“He is a man of amazing talents,” smiled Rada.

The Elf nodded in reply then waved Rada forward toward the Ring. They halted beside the massive roots of one of the giants. The alabaster claws of the titan stood nearly as high as the men. The roots plunged into the moss covered earth of the Nagur. The Elf slipped behind the roots and into the shadows they created at the foot of the tree. Rada followed and to his amazement a small tunnel lie beneath the root, obscured from view by a heavy growth of ferns and a scattering of lichen covered boulders. The Elf again waved the Windrider forward and Rada complied.

The passageway was tight. Rada stooped in order to move through its darkness. The Elf moved quickly and assuredly. He displayed confidence of no discovery. Rada eyed the tunnels walls and noted steel. Someone planned the tunnel when this Almar sprouted as a sapling.

“... amazing talents,” reiterated Rada, marveling at the Counselor’s foresight.

The Elf halted and turned back to the Windrider.

“Those of faith prepared themselves,”  he smiled.

The pair stepped from a small, vine covered gazebo into the midst of a garden east of the palace. The Elf confidently strode through the garden directly to an alcove in the palace’s white walls. A small entryway lay within the alcove. The escort held a hand up to halt Rada. He opened the doorway and checked the halls for signs of movement.

“Follow me closely,” said the Elf.

They rapidly moved through the hallways. Rada understood the import of their task, but could not help but wonder at the beauty of the White Palace. Statues of carved Almar stood within fountains twinkling with sparkling water. Paintings, tapestries and intricate silver armor adorned the walls. These people were truly accomplished. Rada felt a pang of regret. Now that he unified the Borz, he would have liked to align his people with the great nations as an equal. It was a shame that people of such accomplishment fell to the Deceiver.

The escort halted and motioned Rada to follow his example. Thirty yards ahead a young Elf lay snoozing upon a blue couch embroidered with gold thread. The escort smiled and turned to Rada.

“Do not worry,” said the Elf. “He works for me. I will be but a moment.”

The escort turned and approached the young man. Immediately, the young Elf rose and bowed low. The escort returned the bow and a brief discussion took place. Within moments the young man stretched then dashed from the hallway. The escort waved Rada over and together they entered a doorway opposite the hallway from the embroidered divan.

Rada found himself in a large chamber, lowly lit by candlelight. It looked like the office of a busy member of the royal house. A large Almar desk lie covered in meticulously stacked bundles of documents. An ink well, feather quill and wax seal lie amidst the papers. Several large maps adorned the office walls behind the desk. A number of crossbows and bolts decoratively hung beside the maps and a shield embossed with an unfamiliar crest lay propped in the corner. Certainly this office belonged to a high ranking member of the Elven royal house.

Rada’s escort waved him to a deep recess in the far corner of the room. The candlelight fought to penetrate this area and shadows hid more stacks of paperwork. The escort positioned Rada behind the stacks.

“Please remain here and out of sight, Rada Shan,” requested the escort. “I must attend to a few matters.”

The Elf turned to go then hesitated.

“I am a lowly servant and our journey here remained secret, but the Counselor is a man of great import,” confided the escort. “ No matter who enters the room,  do not show yourself. Even if it is the Counselor himself. He is under close scrutiny and we cannot be certain who watches or follows him. I will alert him to your presence when I am convinced of his safety.”

Rada nodded his compliance then moved deeper into the shadows. Most of the room, save the desk, slid from his view. The escort smiled then backed away. On his way toward the door the escort halted and stepped behind the large desk. The Elf furrowed his brow and perused several parchments lying on the desk’s surface. The confidence and demeanor of the man struck Rada. The Counselor chose his people well.

Rada heard the door to the room open. The escort looked to the door then smiled and hesitated before he dropped the parchment within his hands.

“My Lord Teeg, do your duties as Master of Spies include surveillance of members of the royal house and their personal documents? I am sure those items upon my desk are of no consequence,” stated a firm voice.

Rada’s eyes widened at the mention of the escort’s name. The Borz had heard of Teeg Cin Fair. The smile on the old Elf’s face grew. He shrugged his shoulders and extended his out turned hands in supplication.

“It seems that in my old age, my abilities grow dull. I was under the impression you reviewed the defenses stationed around the palace,” replied Teeg to the unseen newcomer.

“I returned. A young runner passed information that you awaited me within my office.”

Soft footsteps crossed the room. Teeg lightly bowed and stepped from behind the desk. A figure passed the darkened recess where the Windrider remained hidden. It rounded the desk on the opposite side of Teeg and settled into the candlelight. Rada Shan held a gasp as the Counselor glanced over the possessions on the desk. Rada’s mentor could not hide his agitation.

“Ah, the impetuousness of youth,” laughed Teeg as he settled on the opposite side of the desk.  “The young runner must have seen me enter your office and thought himself providing a service by announcing my presence.”

Paerrow Admir, the voice of the Elven people,  straightened the articles Teeg had disturbed.

“Perhaps I might help you discover what you are looking for,” offered Paerrow coldly. “You have been gone long from the Almar Ring and much transpired. If my assistance speeds your task and quickly returns you to duties which willtruly protect the realm, so be it.”

Teeg arched a brow and leaned over the desk.

“I seek a traitor within the House of Valpreux, cousin,” stated the old Elf flatly.

Paerrow’s coolness vanished. He spluttered objections and his face registered utter shock.

“Impossible.” 

Teeg’s face remained implacable.

“The facts are evident,” stated Teeg. “There is a traitor in the House of Valpreux and it is my task to uncover its identity. Although you are of impeccable character, all must be investigated. General Chani and his army departed. Luxlor is vulnerable.”

  “Nonsense,” replied Paerrow. “Traitor or no, the Almar Ring is impenetrable. Those of us who remain are safe within the trees.”

“So it would seem,” returned Teeg. “The Almar Ring has always been seen as a major obstacle to any ground assault. However, our people never contemplated an assault from the skies.”

“The skies?” questioned a perplexed Paerrow.

“Yes cousin , the skies,” affirmed Teeg. “The threat comes from the skies. TheCounselor poises a knife at the throat of the Grey Elves and we must alert our remaining forces to look to the skies. The Borz Windriders will be upon us soon.”

Paerrow’s body went rigid. Teeg’s eyes narrowed.