Wielder's Fate (34 page)

“That sounds great,” Traven replied.

Giselle stepped up next to Darian.

“Welcome, Master,” she said.  “You have made us both proud.”

Traven accepted the compliment with a smile.

“Of course, we would have been prouder if you had stopped to bathe in the stream before returning,” Darian said, wrinkling his nose.

“Are you joking?” Traven asked with wide eyes.  “That water is freezing!”

Darian and Giselle joined him in laughing.  The two elves then quickly gathered up their tents and bedrolls.

“Did you sleep here?”

“Of course,” Darian replied.  “We are your devoted.  Where you go, we go.  If you go where we cannot follow, we follow as far as we can and wait for you there.”

Traven was reminded of the special bond that existed between the devoted and their master.  While he had worried that no one would be waiting for him, both Darian and Giselle had remained faithfully at the edge of the proving field over the last couple of days.  He had to make a conscious effort to keep the tears from his eyes.  Their loyalty was amazing.

When they had gathered all of their equipment, Darian took the lead and began crossing the field.  Traven and Giselle followed at his heels.  The gathering crowd of elves continued to cheer as he passed.  He nodded graciously and continued forward.  He was thankful for the praise but more interested in cleaning up and eating than he was about anything else at the moment.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at their destination.  Traven passed through the large tree with a sigh of relief.  The home Darian had grown up in felt like his own safe haven in the midst of the elves.  Darian and Giselle waited in the gallery while he slowly made his way up the stairs to wash and change before eating.

Traven entered his room and closed the door securely behind him.  He was thankful to find a large washbasin of water.  He quickly warmed it up with the ambience before removing the tattered remains of his shirt and pants and scrubbing himself clean.  He then dunked his head in the water and washed his hair, being careful not to scrub the tender bump on his head.  The clear water of the wash basin soon became murky with dirt and grime.  After drying off, Traven donned a fresh set of clothes.

It felt great to be clean.  He looked at himself in the mirror.  The washing had erased the grime away but couldn’t remove the dark bags under his eyes, his sunburned skin, or the scratches covering his cheek.  Only food and sleep would complete the transformation.  He exited the room and carefully made his way down the stairs.  Darian and Giselle were waiting for him just outside the dining room.

“Much better,” Darian observed.  “One would think you could have cleaned up earlier before meeting the elf king.”

“Let him be,” Giselle said as she took his arm.  “He is hungry and tired.  The King’s Trial is not something to joke about.”

Traven accepted the support of his beautiful devoted servant and let her lead him into the dining room.  Darian’s parents and Celeste were already seated.  Darielle rose as Traven came in.

“Welcome back to our home,” he said with open arms.  “We are happy to honor your victory with a small feast.”

Traven thanked him and sat down.  The food was immediately called for.  He had already smelled the delicious aromas of the varied dishes when he had first passed up to the guest room and was eager to eat.  Unfortunately, he found that his stomach was not as ready to receive as much of the food as his eyes were.  He was soon completely full and satisfied.  He waited contentedly while the rest in attendance finished eating.  When everyone was full, Celeste was the first to speak.

“Congratulations,” she said with a large smile.  “It is hard to believe you completed the trial and made it back so quickly.”

“Celeste speaks truly,” Darielle agreed.  “It is rare for a candidate to complete the trial in two and a half days.  There would have been a much larger crowd gathered to see you if you had not arrived so soon.”

“I think-”

“I think it best we let Traven get some rest,” Celian cut in, interrupting her daughter.

“I agree,” Darian added.  “Can’t you see his eyes drooping?”

Traven covered a yawn.  They were both correct.  He was exhausted, and now that his stomach was full, he could barely stay awake.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he muttered.  “Thank you for the delicious meal.”

Darian helped him to his feet and up the stairs to the guest room.  Traven pulled himself carefully into the hammock while Darian walked over to his pile of dirty clothes and picked up his torn shirt.

“What happened to your clothes?  Did you get in a fight with a porcupine?” the elf asked with a grin.

“A mountain cat actually,” Traven said as he shut his eyes.

“Really?” Darian asked with surprise.

“Yes, but that’s not really how I tore my clothes.  The rocks in the cave are really sharp,” he mumbled.

“Go to sleep,” Darian said with a chuckle.  “I will wake you up in time to eat some more before we go to the arena.”

“Thanks,” Traven slurred as he dropped off to sleep.

He woke back up at a knock.  Darian had already entered the room by the time Traven’s eyes were fully opened.  He carefully got out of the hammock, managing not to fall.

“How do you feel?”

“Better,” Traven responded as he stretched.  He still ached all over.  “What time is it?”

“Time to get ready,” Darian said.  “You need to eat quickly if you want to arrive at the arena on time.”

Traven walked stiffly over to the mirror and straightened his hair and clothes with a grimace.  It would be a few days before his muscles fully recovered.  When he turned, Darian was holding out his belt and sword.  He quickly buckled his belt and sheathed his sword.

“That should do it,” Darian stated approvingly.

Traven followed the elf out the door and carefully down the stairs once again.  Giselle was waiting just outside the dining room.  She grabbed his arm and led him to the closest chair.  A plate had been prepared with fresh bread, fruit, nuts, and a large cup of water.  He drank the water and quickly ate all of the food.  By the time he finished chewing, Giselle had refilled his cup.  He emptied the cup again and sat back, satisfied.

“No time to relax now,” Darian said as he pulled Traven to his feet.  “We need to head to the arena.  We do not want to be late.  I would guess that most of the elves in the haven have already arrived.”

Traven followed Darian out of the house and across the courtyard.  Giselle followed directly behind him.

“This is an incredibly significant event,” Darian stated.  “Never since the armband of endurance was first given to the elves has it left the arm of the king except to be transferred to the new king.  We are all incredibly privileged to be part of such a momentous occasion.”

27

It wasn’t long before the small group arrived near the outside of the arena.  The sun was low on the horizon and long shadows stretched through the forest.  There were still a few elves streaming into the arena, but it appeared that most had already arrived.  Traven wondered where Darielle was.  He had been the one to present him to the elf king before.

“He will arrive with the king,” Darian explained when Traven asked.  “You no longer need anyone to present you.  You have completed the King’s Trial and are therefore worthy to be a king.  All elves will now be compelled to show you the proper respect for a future king.  Let us descend to the stage.  We want to be in place when the sun touches the horizon.  You know the way.  We will follow.”

Traven gave Darian a questioning look and took the lead.  His two devoted servants followed next to one another several paces behind him with their heads lowered.  He found it amusing but continued forward with his own head held high.  He walked as quickly as his burning leg muscles would allow.

Upon entering the arena, the talking in the crowd immediately ceased.  All eyes turned towards him as he carefully made his way down the steps.  His legs had regained most of their strength, but they were still sore and slightly unsteady from the trial.  The feeling in the arena was very different than it had been the first time he had entered.  A respectful silence permeated the entire crowd as he continued down the steps.  He was thankful when he reached the clearing in the center of the amphitheater and could rest his tired legs.

He waited near the center of the stage as Darian and Giselle took up positions just behind him.  As soon as they settled into place, he heard movement at the end of the tunnel.  He bowed and waited anxiously as the elf king strode out onto the stage with his entourage of advisors and ambassadors.  Thankfully, the king told him to rise almost immediately.  Traven suppressed a grimace as he pushed himself up and stood to face the monarch.  There was an incredibly ancient elf dressed in bright, elaborate robes at the king’s side.  The king advanced towards the center of the clearing and stopped directly opposite Traven.

The silence of the crowd somehow deepened.  It was as if sound no longer existed.  Traven stood completely still and waited patiently for the words of the elf king.  He couldn’t help but glance at the object of his suffering, the glistening armband of endurance.  The elf king raised his arms into the air and opened his mouth.

“The time has arrived for a rare agreement and pact to take place,” the king began in a regal and clear voice that carried to all present.  “Not since the days of the great elf king Galandier and the Wielder Faldor has such an agreement taken place between elf and human.  As you are aware, the Wielder Traven traveled to our haven seeking the assistance of the elves in saving his people from the galdak horde that has poured out of the mountains and threatened to destroy all in its path.

“We are a benevolent race and have often in the past assisted the human wielders.  However, it has been a very long time.  The Wielder Traven remembered our past generosity and requested of us one of our most sacred and cherished objects, the armband of endurance.  Despite the urgent need and noble cause of the plea, I was not eager to hand over a symbol of such great meaning and singular power without proof as to the worthiness of the one making the request.

“An agreement was made that if the Wielder Traven completed the King’s Trial and proved his worthiness, the armband of endurance would be entrusted to him for the space of one hundred days.  During that time, he would wear it and receive the strength necessary to defend his people and rid the land of the threat of the galdaks.  At the end of the one hundred days, he would journey back to Morian Haven and return the sacred object to its rightful place upon the arm of the elf king.”

The elf king paused and looked directly into Traven’s eyes, assuring himself that the terms of the agreement were understood.  Traven nodded his acceptance.

“The Wielder Traven has completed the King’s Trial and proven his worthiness.  I will now fulfill my part of the agreement.”

An almost imperceptible intake of breath swept through the audience as the king of the elves stretched forth his left arm.  The king then looked directly at Traven and indicated with a slight movement of his head that he was to do likewise.  Traven obediently stretched forth his own left arm.  The ancient elf in the elaborate robes shuffled forward and carefully unclasped the intricate armband of endurance.  He then stepped over to Traven and clasped it snuggly around his left bicep.

The bright green stone seemed to glow momentarily, and Traven felt a flood of energy and strength wash through his entire body.  It had scarcely been on his arm a moment when all of the soreness in his muscles began to fade away.  His eyes widened and a smile tugged at his lips.  He felt wonderful.

The light in the eyes of the elf king faded slightly as he lowered his arm.  The regal elf took a step back and bowed to him.  With the stone of endurance enlivening him with energy, Traven now understood more than ever the sacrifice the king of the elves was making.  He bowed deeply in return with a heart full of gratitude.

“I offer my thanks to the noble king of the elves and the thanks of all the humans who will benefit from such a powerful and benevolent gift.  The humans are indebted to you for your kindness.  I will strictly adhere to my side of the bargain and return the sacred armband of endurance one hundred days from now.”

As Traven finished, all of the king’s advisors and ambassadors dropped to their knees and bowed.  A cheer suddenly erupted from somewhere in the crowd.  The sound was taken up by others and soon the entire arena exploded with thunderous applause.  The excitement and approval of the elves added to the energy already coursing through his body, and Traven felt as if he might burst.

He raised his hands skyward and shot a pillar of flame high into the air, seeking an outlet for his sudden abundance of energy.  He noticed with surprise and delight that as he continued to send the flames higher into the sky, he felt absolutely no drain on his energy.  The column of fire began to spin as it reached far above the top row of the amphitheater and ever higher into the sky.  The darkening sky was lit with the bright flame, making it appear as if the sun which had so recently set was already rising once again.

Traven smiled and let the flames disappear.  The arena was instantly bathed in the shadows of evening, and the cool night air rushed in to cool the elves’ heated faces.  All seemed unnaturally silent compared to the tumultuous noise that had so recently enveloped the arena.  The ambassadors were all still on their knees, and the looks on their upturned faces reminded Traven of the murals he had seen in the Cave of the Eternal Flame.

An idea suddenly crossed his mind.  With the armband of endurance, he already knew he could legitimately challenge the powerful galdak wielder in a duel.  However, there were still hundreds of thousands of galdak warriors that would have to be defeated.  He could help the Royal Army but could only do so much against the horde.  He had hope that the Kalian Army would ultimately be victorious, but how many soldiers would be killed over the space of a long and drawn out battle?