The Quest (The Hidden Realm Book 5) (28 page)

“As soon as we can manage it,” replied the Dwarf wholeheartedly. Releasing Elerian’s arm, he gingerly felt a lump on his head with the fingers of his left hand. “Who would have thought that household implements were so dangerous,” he whispered to Elerian. “I will never again look lightly at another frying pan or broom.”

“Nor will I,” replied Elerian ruefully, for he sported his own lumps.

With peace and order restored, the members of the company spent the rest of the day making their preparations to leave in the morning. Some members of the company helped Elerian to gather more majum while others helped Ascilius prepare the rest of the boar meat, cutting it up fine so that Ascilius could transform it into dried sausages that would keep for many days. Outside the cave, the air grew cool as the sun dropped behind the western mountains and clouds rolled in again from the west. Soon, it began to rain again, but inside the cave all remained snug and warm as the company gathered for their last meal in that place.

Elerian sat by Anthea's right side, frustrated and unhappy, for she now met each of his attempts at conversation with a frosty silence, favoring Ascilius, who sat on her left and the rest of the company with all of her attention. Now that she had cast off the shadow of her ordeal, she seemed restored to her former self. A light shone in her blue eyes, illuminating her fair features and around her neck the silver beech leaf hanging from her chain reflected each color of the mage lights hung from the walls according to her movements.

Observing his sister for the first time without the veil of her illusion spell masking her features, Dacien felt a thread of sadness running through his joy at their reunion, for he saw now that there was a divide between them that could never be bridged. For all that he had known her since she was a small child, Ascilius felt strangely reluctant to meet Anthea’s gaze now that he saw her in her true form. Triarus and the two Dwarf brothers were also too embarrassed to look at Anthea directly, for her eyes, for all their kindness, seemed to look right through them, but they stole glances at her often, entranced, like all of their companions, by her beauty. Forian, too, watched Anthea with slanting glances of his dark eyes, but most often he cast pensive, measuring looks at Elerian but in a sidelong manner, as if he did not wish to be observed.

As the hour grew late, Ascilius extinguished his fire and the mage lights before rolling himself in his blankets along with the rest of the company, leaving only Elerian and Anthea awake.

“Are still angry with me?” asked Elerian softly of Anthea when the soft breathing of his companions told him that they had fallen asleep.

“I am not angry,” replied Anthea in a cool whisper. “I only wonder if I have mistaken your character and whether you truly love me.”

“I went into the depths of Tyranus to rescue you,” Elerian reminded her quietly.

“Even Merula would have done as much,” replied Anthea coldly. “I need to see a true test of your devotion.” Sitting in stunned silence, Elerian wondered what Anthea would consider a true test of his loyalty.

“If you were to declare your love and accept me as your sovereign in the central plaza of Niveaus, I might take that as proof,” suggested Anthea when he remained silent.

Instantly, Elerian shot a suspicious glance at Ascilius’s sleeping form. Were the Dwarf’s blankets shaking ever so slightly? Looking back at Anthea, he detected no glint of laughter in her deadly serious gaze.

“Your hesitation confirms my suspicions then,” said Anthea coolly. Before Elerian could make any protest, she rose gracefully and sought out her blankets, leaving Elerian confused and baffled.

“What a perilous business love is,” he thought to himself. “All in the space of a few hours I have gone from a state of joy and contentment to one of despair and bewilderment.”

Early the next day, Elerian, who had sat alone with his thoughts by the cave entrance all night long, roused his companions. As they ate a hot meal of bacon and majum sliced and fried crisp in bacon fat, Elerian spoke to Ascilius.

“We cannot depend on rain to save us again if we are pursued. Short of traveling through the canopy can you think of any other away in which we can disguise our scent trail?”

“There are potions which will mask scent,” replied the Dwarf, “but their efficacy diminishes with time and distance. We will have to depend on your woodcraft and spells to keep us safe on the long journey we must make to the sea.”

“A bit of luck will not hurt either,” thought Elerian to himself as he and his companions shouldered their gear and left the cave. After Ascilius sealed the door so as to leave no sign of their presence, they set out with Dwarf leading the way. Elerian followed last, concealing everyone beneath an illusion spell.

As the company descended towards the flat lands below, the firs, which rose up like furrowed brown pillars all around them, gradually gave way to hardwoods and the brown needles covering the ground were replaced by drifts of leaves, still wet and soft from the last night’s rain. When Ascilius reached the edge of the lowlands, he turned to his right, leading his companions west. Skirting the fringes of the foothills on their right, the members of the company walked under enormous, ancient trees of mighty girth spaced well apart from each other. Overhead the close knit leaves of the canopy concealed all below it from anything that flew the skies, providing them with a measure of safety. Walking remained difficult, for the shorter members of the company because of the thick roots that humped and twisted over the uneven ground, but they gained some relief whenever Ascilius led them across the flat slabs of gray rock that thrust through the ground all across the Broken Lands.

When they suddenly came to one of the clearings that were prevalent in this country, the sun appeared briefly between the leaden clouds which, driven by a west wind, still scudded across the sky, its bright rays illuminating the forest glade before them. On the far side of the stony meadow, barely a hundred yards away, a large brown bear suddenly appeared between the trees. At once, everyone in the company stopped, everyone warily watching the great beast to see what it would do next.

 As large as a horse and weighing twice as much, the monarch of the forest also stopped. Despite the invisibility spell that hid them, it seemed to sense the members of the company, for it turned its great head their way. An annoyed huff escaped the bear’s flared, black nostrils as it raised its head, questing unsuccessfully for scent, for the wind blew from the west at its back. Elerian noticed at once how tightly Cordus and Cyricus gripped their weapons and that Triarus had turned deadly pale. A gleam entered his gray eyes as he spoke softly to his companions.

“If yonder beast decides to attack, we had best run. Once he makes a meal of the slowest of our company the rest can escape.” Ascilius and Dacien, sensing mischief, immediately assumed a long-suffering look, but Cordus, Cyricus, Triarus, and Forian, too, started, for Elerian seemed deadly serious.

“I think that I liked him better in his former melancholy mood,” Ascilius whispered to Anthea who was torn between disapproval and laughter at the uneasy looks on the faces of the younger Dwarves and Triarus. In the race to escape Elerian disguised as the Gargol, the three of them had proved the slowest.

“Do not be afraid,” said Anthea softly to the brothers and to Triarus, who was now white and trembling with fear. “He is having a bit of misguided fun at your expense. Chase the creature away, Elerian, or I will do it myself,” she threatened. Behind Anthea, Ascilius held up his ring to his nose again, assuming an exaggerated, meek look on his face.

Ignoring the Dwarf with difficulty, Elerian changed the illusion spell that covered him and his companions, giving them all the forms of huge Trolls armed with knotty clubs. Roaring loudly, club upraised, Elerian rushed suddenly at the great bear. Seeing a whole troop of its deadliest enemies suddenly appear before it, the monster abruptly seemed to recall that it had urgent business elsewhere. Looking to neither the right nor the left, it fled into the forest, traveling south in great bounds that soon took it out of sight.

“It is pleasant to see you so meek when Anthea orders you about,” whispered Ascilius smugly when Elerian rejoined his companions.

“You were no pillar of courage yourself when that serving maid was chasing you with her frying pan,” replied Elerian in an irritated voice. Seeing Anthea turn his way, Ascilius immediately assumed a bland expression and held back his own tart reply.

“What are you two whispering about,” asked Anthea suspiciously as she approached with a light step. “Are you two arguing again?”

“Not at all,” replied Ascilius offhandedly. “I was merely observing to Elerian that the bear reminded me of the skin changer that he and I met on our first journey through the Broken Lands.”

“We were wondering if he is still alive,” added Elerian, likewise assuming an innocent expression. Skeptical of the glib reply she had received, Anthea fixed a stern look on Elerian, who grew increasingly uneasy under the unblinking gaze of her dark blue eyes.

“I think it might be best if I scouted ahead,” he said casually. Before Anthea could make any reply, he fled into the forest, a gleam of laughter appearing in his eyes at the look of consternation that appeared suddenly on Ascilius’s face as he was left alone to deal with Anthea’s questions.

A MYSTERY IS SOLVED

Elerian’s laughter was short lived, for when he looked back over his left shoulder, he saw Anthea and Forian, both stepping lightly as shadows, not far behind him.

“It would seem that I am not to escape so easily,” he thought wryly to himself. “This might be the ideal time to test Forian as well as question him. The results will both satisfy my curiosity about him and deflect any further inquiries Anthea might wish to direct at me.”

“Let us take a different path,” Elerian suggested to his two companions when they drew close to him. Leaping high up onto the rough barked trunk of a great chestnut, he ascended as quickly and easily as any squirrel to the canopy, drawing himself lightly onto a great lateral branch fifty feet above the forest floor which was so thick that there was room for three large men to stand on it together. Anthea followed Elerian effortlessly, her slim frame exhibiting a sinewy strength as she climbed. Behind her, Forian followed with equal ease, his skill further increasing Elerian’s suspicions about his true nature.

“Let me test him further,” thought Elerian to himself before running off through the canopy in a westerly direction. Unconcerned with the long drop on either side of her, Anthea followed him with light, perfectly balanced steps. Glancing back over his left shoulder, Elerian noted that Forian was as at home in the heights as he was, following the twisting, bark-covered path before him with a quick, sure stride. He evidently felt no joy at traveling through the canopy, however, for his face had assumed a melancholy look. Deciding that the time was right to ask questions, Elerian stopped abruptly where a great limb joined the trunk of a huge oak tree, providing him with a platform large enough for him and his two companions to stand together.

“What troubles you, Forian?” he asked as Anthea and the Ancharian stopped beside him.

“Being in the heights brings back many memories of the Abercius,” replied Forian quietly.

“I had not heard that Ancharians had any love for the upper pathways of the forest,” observed Elerian in a curious voice. When Forian remained silent, Elerian decided to press him further. “I have also never heard that Ancharians were gifted with long life. Eliphas and Indrawyn lived in their dwelling in the Panteras for well over a century, yet you do not seem to have attained more than half that span of years.”

“How did you come by that information, Elerian?” Forian asked quietly. “I made no mention of it when I related my history.”

“My knowledge of Eliphas and Indrawyn was gathered from various sources over many years,” replied Elerian soberly. “I have always had a keen interest in them, for I am the child who fled into the forest after they fell to the Goblins and Drusus.”

“So I suspected the first time that I heard your name mentioned,” replied Forian, neither his face nor his voice demonstrating any surprise. “When I finally saw you in your true form, my eyes confirmed what my mind had already guessed. Now that you have revealed yourself to me, Elerian I think it only fair that I expose my true nature also, for as you already suspect, I am no Ancharian.” Even as he ceased to speak, Forian’s form suddenly began to change, flowing like water into a new shape.

“He is a shape changer,” thought Anthea and Elerian to themselves, the same thought occurring to both of them in the same moment.

When his transformation was complete, Forian was as tall as Elerian with the same slender, sinewy form, but his eyes were the color of new leaves in the springtime and his hair had become silvery white, lending him an ageless look, neither young nor old. His features did not achieve the perfection of the Elder race but were still fair beyond the measure of human kind.

“This is my true form,” said Forian quietly, his bright eyes trained on those of his two companions. “I am a Niadd as was Eliphas, Elerian’s father. Long ago, my people lived in a great forest in a different realm until, one day, after passing between two trees, one of our hunters found himself in a strange wood filled with unfamiliar trees. Retracing his steps, he found that he had passed through an opening which hung in the air like a clear window that constantly changed its shape and size. After he reported his discovery, many Niadds passed through the doorway he had discovered, lured by the great trees that grew on the far side of the portal.

In the years that followed, the Niadds roamed far and wide across the new world they had discovered, delighting in the strange forests which covered them, but then men appeared in the lands to the south and east. Fearing the newcomers, for they were many and the Niadds were few, my people used their ability to shape change to awe the men they encountered and to hide their true nature.”

Forian’s outline now began to transform again. When he had achieved his new shape, he was shorter than before. Pointed ears rose from his dark curly locks and his narrow face sported dark, sly eyes. His chest was bare, but his legs were covered with long, soft, dark hair. For feet, the shape changer now had hooves that resembled goat's feet.

“A faun!” said Anthea wonderingly. “You used the legends of men to frighten them away.”

“For a time our deception was quite successful,” replied Forian when he had assumed his native form once more. “When men began clearing the forests to make their farms and towns, however, the Niadds were forced to retreat before them, for we cannot live without our trees. My people finally took refuge in the depths of the forest that men named the Abercius, for in its heart was concealed the gate to our home world. Niadds continued to pass back and forth between our old home and the Abercius until, one day, to our dismay the gate suddenly disappeared. The Niadds who were trapped here in this realm have waited ever since for the day when the gate will open again and our exile will be over.”

As Forian concluded his tale, Elerian suddenly felt at peace as all of the questions and doubts that had troubled him over the years were finally laid to rest. Much of what Forian had told him he had already known, but it was reassuring to hear a firsthand account of his history by someone who had actually known Eliphas and Indrawyn.

“What can you tell me of my parents?” Elerian asked Forian eagerly. “I have no memory of either one of them.”

“Your father was steady and grave, a master of the forest,” replied Forian. “Indrawyn was beautiful beyond measure, dangerous to her enemies and mischievous to a fault. She played many a prank on Eliphas and me.”

“So my capriciousness, as Ascilius calls it, comes from my mother,” thought Elerian to himself in surprise. “My ability to change shape, on the other hand, comes from my father.” He would have questioned Forian further then, but the Niadd spoke first.

“I thought that all of the Elves had left the Middle Realm,” he said, addressing Anthea. “And yet your face and form are those of an Eirian.”

“I am only part Elf,” replied Anthea. Her reply appeared to trouble Forian, but before she could ask why, the arrival of the rest of the company ended their conversation. When the three companions descended quickly to the forest floor, Forian made no attempt to disguise his identity as Ascilius and the others approached. Emulating Elerian and Anthea, he had decided to dispense with his disguise. Ascilius and the rest of the company, for their part, cast a few curious looks at the Niadd, but, having become used to illusions and changed appearances, they all readily guessed his identity and made no comments about his changed appearance.

Throughout the rest of the day, hidden by Elerian’s illusion spell, the company traveled together in single file behind Ascilius. Applying the woodcraft that he had learned in Elerian’s company, the Dwarf did what he could to hide their trail. Avoiding the extensive beds of ferns that grew beneath the trees, Ascilius led his companions across deep drifts of packed leaves, along fallen logs, and over the great slabs of lichen encrusted stone that randomly broke through the surface of the earth.

“Not as good as walking through the canopy,” thought Elerian to himself when he examined their faint back trail, “but good enough to fool all but the most expert eye. I would commend Ascilius on his woodcraft, but it would only swell his head unnecessarily.”

When Elerian turned his gaze to the forefront of the company, a baffled look entered his clear gray eyes. Anthea continued to act cool and distant toward him, walking instead next to Ascilius. She and the Dwarf were engaged in a quiet conversation, too low even for Elerian’s keen ears to hear, but from the smirks that Ascilius cast over his right shoulder when Anthea’s attention was elsewhere, Elerian guessed that he was the subject of their discussion.

“He is up to no good,” thought Elerian gloomily to himself. When Ascilius turned his head again, Elerian glared at him and drew his right forefinger across his throat, but the Dwarf merely thumbed his nose in return, unimpressed by any threat Elerian might make as long as he was in Anthea’s company. 

To distract himself, Elerian sought out the company of Forian all through the day’s march, learning all that he could of his parents from the Niadd while relating his own history in return. When evening began to turn into night, Ascilius selected a small depression surrounded by a circle of huge oaks for a cold camp. Elerian remained awake to keep watch while his weary companions slept, but his enjoyment of the night and the ancient trees that surrounded him was tempered by disappointment, for Anthea had sought out her blankets with the rest of the company.

“The complexities of the female mind eclipse the most complex spell that I have ever conjured,” thought Elerian ruefully to himself as he listened to a lonely wolf howl far to the south and the faint rumble of Troll drums to the northeast. To a man the surrounding forest, shrouded in impenetrable darkness, would have seemed a frightening, mysterious place, but Elerian felt entirely at ease as he sat on a great tree root at the perimeter of their camp, for his eyes saw clearly into the night, revealing in sharp focus a gray and black world around him where nothing could move without him seeing it. The mysterious rustles, cracks, and creaks common to the forest at night were likewise rendered ordinary by his keen hearing which identified and located the source of each of them. When he suddenly heard the soft pad of a pard approaching over the branches overhead, Elerian quickly and silently climbed the tree against which his back rested, meeting the spotted cat on a great limb overhead before it could approach his companions.

Stealthy, powerful, and fearless, with a distance of only twenty feet between them, the startled pard snarled softly, its luminous eyes drawn by Elerian’s fearless gray eyes, which gleamed as brightly as its own in the darkness. His right hand raised to cast a sleep spell, his left holding Rasor in case his spell failed to find its mark, Elerian waited to see what the spotted killer would do.

“Seek your dinner elsewhere, brother,” he softly warned the pard, which flattened its ears uneasily at the sound of his voice. With a single fluid movement, it suddenly turned away and slunk off into the canopy. As Elerian watched it disappear, he was unaware that a pair of blue eyes, black as night in the absence of the sun, watched him from the ground below, admiring and approving of both his courage and his tempered response to the threat he had just faced.

The next day was another cautious trek east for the company. In single file, they walked through ancient forests, traveling without pause until they reached the eastern bank of the Gavius at nightfall. The watercourse was only a swift mountain stream at this point, barely thirty feet across, but after a quiet discussion Elerian and Ascilius decided to wait until morning to cross to the far bank. While they conversed, still captivated by her newfound ability to see in the dark, Anthea explored the wood around her. Near the bank of the river, to the north of the company, she discovered that one of the immense old oaks growing there was hollow inside. Her companions praised her woodcraft when she brought her discovery to their attention, earning each of them, excepting only Elerian, a warm smile. Him, she continued to ignore, turning instead to Ascilius, who positively beamed at the attention Anthea was bestowing on him. 

“We could have a fire and a warm meal in here,” she suggested to the Dwarf.

“Trout from the river would do nicely for supper,” replied Ascilius. “Dried sausages have begun to lose their appeal for me.”

“I will see what I can do,” replied Anthea. “Perhaps Forian will help me,” she added, before bestowing a winsome smile on the Niadd.

“Of course, my lady,” replied Forian quietly. Together he and Anthea set of for the river. Morosely, Elerian followed them through the gathering darkness, annoyed that Anthea had not turned to him instead of the Niadd but unable to stay away nonetheless. Walking silently a few feet behind them, he followed the pair to the bank of a deep, calm pool.

“I will fish the natural way,” said Forian to Anthea when they stopped by the water’s edge. At once, his form shifted, flowing into the shape of a large, sleek furred brown otter.

“Can you change me, also?” Anthea asked Forian wistfully.

“Alas, my powers extend only to my own form,” replied the Niadd regretfully in a throaty voice.

“Change me,” said Anthea turning to Elerian, her voice now cold and imperious. Stung by her tone, his pride urged him to refuse her or to at least play a prank on her, but Elerian found that he could do neither. The intensity of his attraction to the slim, Elf fair woman before him left him no choice.

“I have begun to think that the torments of love far exceed the benefits,” thought Elerian gloomily to himself, but he knew in his heart that if he was offered an opportunity to return to a point in time where Anthea still played no part in his life, he would refuse it. “The worst part is that she knows the hold that she has on my heart,” thought Elerian to himself, seeing the knowledge deep in her cool blue eyes. With a sigh, he changed her into a sleek furred otter, but he made no effort to join Anthea when she followed Forian into the river without a backward look.