The Quest (The Hidden Realm Book 5) (17 page)

“I would bet a great deal that he is involved somehow with these creatures being here,” he thought to himself as they continued on, all of them trying to make as little noise as possible except for Elerian, who was naturally as silent as a shadow. Despite Ascilius’s concerns, nothing leaped out of the shadows to attack them, and they arrived without incident at end of the tunnel they were following.

The exit to the passageway proved to be a large, irregular opening high and wide enough to allow the passage of a Dwarf wagon. Outside the tunnel, night had fallen. The sky was clear, and stars shone like bright sparks across the heavens, providing ample light for those of the company who could see in the dark.

Ascilius, who still led the company, extinguished his mage light before cautiously stepping through the exit, hugging the outside wall to his left with his back to avoid revealing his silhouette to any unfriendly eyes which might be about. Once he was away from the exit, he saw from his vantage point that he stood on the side of a steep, rock-strewn slope with patches of dense turf growing between the stones. The splashing of water on his left drew his attention next. When Ascilius turned that way, he saw a swift, noisy mountain stream leaping down the side of the mountain in a series of small waterfalls, pools, and gleaming rapids. Its banks were covered by stretches of stone and gravel interspersed with thick clumps of herbs that filled the air with a sharp clean scent. At the base of the slope before him, the stream ran down the center of a long, narrow valley covered with thick grass that was gray colored under the starlight. Slate colored boulders and stone outcroppings, varying in size from small ones the size of a man’s head to enormous ones as large as a house, rose randomly out of the turf, scattered about as if some giant had thrown handfuls of them down the length of the valley. A dark forest of hardwoods covered the lower slopes of the rugged mountains that rose up on both sides of the narrow vale. Higher up, evergreens dominated and higher yet were alpine meadows and the bare slopes of rugged peaks. Ascilius looked carefully in all directions but saw no sign of life anywhere. He started violently and almost dropped Fulmen when Elerian suddenly spoke almost in his right ear.

“The valley is just as Dardanus described it,” said Elerian quietly. In his usual noiseless fashion, he had come out of the passageway to stand next to Ascilius right shoulder.

“Why must you skulk about like that!” hissed Ascilius as he attempted to slow his pounding heart.

“Elves are naturally silent,” whispered Elerian in a superior voice. “We do not go clumping about like other races that I could name.”

“This is what you wanted,” Ascilius reminded himself as he glared silently at his smug companion. He was glad that things had returned to normal between him and Elerian, but that normalcy meant that he was once more subject to the vagaries of Elerian’s capricious humor. “One must take the good with the bad,” Ascilius reminded himself philosophically.

“The place does not appear to have changed at all over the long years since my uncles last passed this way,” replied Ascilius at last. “I see nothing moving about, and there are no signs of any Trolls.”

“I doubt that anything comes near this passageway for fear of the creature that haunted these tunnels,” observed Elerian.

“We can use that fear to our advantage,” replied Ascilius. “I think we should rest here inside the tunnel entrance until dawn. A few hours’ sleep will be good for all of us, and the morning sun will force away any Trolls that might be lurking about into hiding.”

“I will keep watch then while you and the others rest,” replied Elerian. “I am not sleepy, and I would like to sit beneath the stars again.” 

Ascilius’s decision pleased the rest of his companions, for they were all exceedingly tired after their ordeal under the mountains. They had a cold meal of biscuits, cheese, and dried sausages before wrapping themselves in their cloaks and blankets and lying down to sleep. After sharing his companions’ meal, Elerian sat on a small, gray boulder conveniently positioned in the deep shadow that filled the tunnel entrance, keeping watch over the silent valley before him. Nothing stirred except for the grass waving gently in the night wind, and the only sounds that came to his keen ears were the water sounds of the nearby stream and the deep breathing of his companions. As he kept his vigil, Elerian’s gaze often went to the ruby mounted on the silver ring he wore on his left hand, but the stone remained dead and lifeless.

“I wish I knew whether she was still alive,” he thought somberly to himself. The brief glimpse his orb had given him of Anthea in his arms had not afforded him the opportunity to determine whether she still drew breath. “Almost, I wish that her shade has already passed from this realm,” he thought sadly to himself. “At least she would be beyond the reach of Torquatus and his torments.” Finally, against his better judgment, Elerian called his crystal sphere to his right hand.

“Show me Anthea,” he silently commanded the orb. The silvery glow that shrouded the sphere faded away, leaving it clear as glass, a small window into the grim, red-lit dungeon where Anthea was held captive by the Goblin King. Fearing what he might see, Elerian gazed through the portal, but his view of the chamber was obscured by a vast, hulking shape that crouched over a slim, still form, its long dark hair tumbling onto the bloody stone floor of the cell. Elerian felt his heart lurch when he realized that the creature was tearing away pieces of flesh from the figure with its teeth and noisily devouring them. As it grew aware of Elerian, the licantrope’s monstrous head lifted from its grisly meal and looked back at him over its right shoulder. Blood dripped from its yellow fangs onto its coarse black fur, and its eyes glowed with a pale green light as it glared at Elerian through the portal.

Overcome with horror, Elerian groaned softly and lost control of the sphere. Holding it in his right hand, he took several deep breaths to still his racing heart. At first glance, he had been certain that it was Anthea the guardian was devouring, but he was not so certain now, for upon further reflection, he realized that the massive form of the creature had prevented him from seeing if the bier was still occupied.

“I will drive myself mad if I continue to use the sphere to try and discover more about Anthea’s present condition,” Elerian thought grimly to himself. “From this moment on, I will keep to the path leading to Tyranus without worrying about what I may find at the end of it.” He started on his stony seat then as a large, swift moving shadow suddenly passed over the ground in front of the tunnel entrance. Looking up, Elerian saw the bat like shape of a lentulus hovering in the dark sky high above the entrance to the passageway.

THE VALLEY

Elerian had no doubt that the Goblin shape changer overhead was searching for Ascilius and himself, but the deep shadow cloaking him defeated its night sight, for after circling twice, it flew away to the west, following the valley west until it was out of sight. With the disturbing scene revealed to him by his orb constantly intruding on his mind’s eye, Elerian kept a sleepless watch for the rest of the night, but the creature did not return.

“Hopefully, it saw nothing to rouse its suspicions,” he thought to himself as he went into the passageway to wake Ascilius at first light.

“Why did you not rouse one of us to relieve you?” asked the Dwarf after he had rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He knew that Elerian habitually slept very little, but it seemed to him that his companion’s face had a haggard look, as if his gray eyes had observed some melancholy sight during the night.

“I felt no need of sleep, and it was a fine night to sit beneath the stars,” replied Elerian, trying and failing to inject a note of cheerfulness into his somber voice, for he had no wish to reveal to Ascilius that he had looked into his sphere again. “I think the hunt is on for us,” he added somberly. “I saw a lentulus in the sky last night. I do not believe that it was here by chance.”

“It may be that some traitor has betrayed us to Torquatus,” suggested Ascilius, still without mentioning Herias. “We should take every precaution until we reach the Broken Lands. We will be safer there under the cover of its trees.”

“Reaching those forests will be no easy task,” warned Elerian. “If Torquatus knows our plans then it is likely that he has roused the Trolls Dardanus spoke of against us. They will certainly bar our way west if they can.” A spirited debate now began between the two companions as to whether they should travel on by night or by day.

“Trolls are less likely to be about during the day,” argued Elerian, remembering his other experiences with the creatures in the past.

“The Goblin King’s spies are more likely to see us by day,” argued Ascilius. “We will be visible for miles from the air, for the valley is bare of any cover.”

“I cannot hide all of us with my ring, but if we keep close together, I can hide everyone under an illusion spell,” suggested Elerian. “No one will see us, then.”

“I suppose that will work,” replied Ascilius, grudgingly giving in, for he had seen the efficacy of Elerian’s concealment spells before the battle which had taken place before the back gate of Galenus. They both fell silent then, watching the first golden rays of the sun flow over the valley before them as it rose over the mountains at their backs. The bright beams turned the short turf covering the vale a vivid green while the rushing brook that clove the valley in two became a silver ribbon that tumbled merrily over the smooth stones in its bed. The dark, house sized boulders and rocky outcroppings that were scattered about the length of the valley turned pale gray and threw long shadows behind them into the west as the sun's rays reached them. Elerian breathed deeply of the fresh morning air, crisp with the first faint promise of autumn, for summer was waning.

“Where has the time gone?” he thought sadly to himself, for when he reckoned up the days, he realized that it was the nineteenth of August. “Soon the old year will wither away like all my hopes,” he thought darkly to himself.

Wordlessly, he and Ascilius entered the passageway and laid out a cold breakfast of biscuits, cheese, and dried fruit near the entrance to the tunnel. After rousing Dacien, Triarus, and Ascilius's nephews, they sat down to eat with their companions. Dacien, like Elerian, was in a somber mood and said little, but Triarus, Cyricus, and Cordus talked cheerfully amongst themselves, relieved to be quitting the dark passageway behind them. After everyone had finished eating and had packed their gear, Ascilius arranged them into a single line, putting himself first. Dacien and Triarus were next, followed by Cordus and Cyricus. Elerian was last in line.

“Keep close together,” Ascilius warned everyone. “Elerian will hide us under an illusion spell, but if you step outside its bounds, you will become visible to any enemies that might be about.” Triarus, Cordus, and Cyricus immediately turned toward Elerian, watching curiously as he raised his right hand. Unlike Dacien and Ascilius, they had never seen him cast an illusion spell. Since all three lacked mage sight, they did not see the small golden orb that shot from the fingers of his right hand, expanding suddenly to form a golden cloak that covered all of the company. A gossamer thin thread of gold tethered the illusion spell to Elerian’s right hand, feeding it the power that it needed to maintain itself. Beneath the cover provided by the charm, the six companions could still see each other and the land around them, but anyone standing outside the bounds of the illusion would see only an empty landscape where they stood, for the spell exactly tailored its appearance to match its surroundings.

“Stay close together,” Elerian warned everyone again. “If you step beyond the boundaries of the illusion, you will lose sight of the rest of us.”

“So he says,” thought Cyricus doubtfully to himself. “I would like to test this illusion with my own eyes before I trust it completely.” When his companions started walking, Cyricus began edging unobtrusively off to his right. When he stepped outside the boundaries of the charm, he suddenly saw his companions vanish before his eyes as Ascilius and Elerian had promised. Startled by their sudden disappearance, Cyricus forgot to watch his footing and stumbled over one of the many small outcrops of stone that dotted the valley floor. Eyes alight with mischief, grateful for the distraction from his own somber thoughts, Elerian walked silently past him, saying nothing to the rest of the company until they were well past the fallen Dwarf.

“Hold up!” Elerian said softly before turning to see what Cyricus would do next. By now the Dwarf had gotten to his feet, but when he looked quickly around him, he saw nothing to mark their presence of his companions, not even a footprint in the thick turf covering the valley floor. Short and dense, the grass had sprung back even under the heavy footsteps of the Dwarves. His curiosity more than satisfied, Cyricus hastily began to run in the direction he thought the company had taken, but his companions still did not appear. Panic now drove out reason, and he dashed madly back the way he had come before abruptly reversing direction again, his arms waving violently in front of him the whole time as he sought to make contact with one of his companions. The sound of nearby laughter finally stopped him in his tracks.

“I would say your spell is a success, Elerian,” said the voice of Ascilius from off to Cyricus’s right.

“Your cousin does seem to have lost track of us,” dryly observed the voice of Elerian, but the sound seemed to Cyricus to come from his left, further confusing him. “Shall we tell him where we are?” Elerian asked Ascilius. Wanting only to rejoin his companions, Cyricus now spoke up in a contrite voice.

“I am sorry I stepped outside the boundaries of the spell, Elerian. Please show me where you are.” He started violently when a broad, sinewy hand suddenly appeared out of thin air and grasped his right ear. None too gently, it dragged him to his right, and Cyricus found himself once more in sight of his companions.

“Do not stray again,” said Ascilius to his chastened young cousin. “You might not get off so lightly next time.” Ascilius’s face looked stern, but there was also a glint of laughter in his eyes. Cordus, who was standing next to Ascilius, was making no attempt to hold back his laughter.

“You should have seen the look on your face when you ran by us,” he said gleefully to his brother. Cyricus cast an irritated look at his Cordus but said nothing as he took his place in line behind him. Ascilius at once set out at a measured trot, a pace that all of the company could maintain for hours. As he ran, Cordus kept turning and making horrified faces at his brother over his left shoulder, mimicking his earlier panic. His patience exhausted, Cyricus finally shoved him hard on his left shoulder which immediately precipitated a vigorous scuffle between him and his brother that forced Ascilius to call a halt.

“I should have left the two of you in Iulius,” he said in an irritated voice as he grasped each of his cousins by the scruff of the neck. In an impressive display of strength, he raised both of them clear of the ground at the same time and held them apart at arm’s length until they quieted down. After that, not wishing to incur Ascilius’s wrath a second time, the two brothers went on quietly enough.

The day proved to be a fine one, warm with a cloudless blue sky overhead and a light, crisp breeze blowing in the faces of the six companions from out of the west. The thick turf covering the ground both cushioned and muffled their steps so that they were both silent and invisible as they progressed down the valley, keeping close to the stream that ran to their left down the center of the vale. The fast running water splashing merrily along beside them in its stony bed brought cheer to the hearts of Triarus, Cordus, and Cyricus, but Ascilius, Dacien, and Elerian remained somber of mien, each of them thinking about Anthea in the cruel clutches of the Dark King of the Goblins.

At noon Ascilius called a halt, leading the company into the shade cast by a large, house sized boulder. As they sat in a circle, eating biscuits and dried sausage from their packs, Cordus and Cyricus began discussing the best way to fight a Troll if one should happen to appear before them, for the two brothers had regained their sense of adventure now that they had left the dark passageway under the mountains. Triarus and Dacien also talked quietly between themselves, discussing Triarus’s homeland in the West. Ascilius paid little heed to his companions, distracted by the outcroppings of rock that thrust up from the ground all around him. His Dwarf senses positively tingled with the nearness of the rich ores which they contained, and at it was only with great difficulty that he restrained himself from exploring their roots. Elerian looked to the woodlands of the uplands, for despite the melancholy set of his mind, they still called to him. He wished Anthea was by his side so that they might have explored those enticing groves to their delight.

“You indulge in useless imaginings, for you know Anthea will never leave Tyranus alive,” whispered the sensible portion of his mind. “If you wish to see her again, your thoughts are better spent crafting a portal spell that will make use of the power you gained from closing the Gargol’s gate.” For once, Elerian had no argument with that voice. He resolved to begin constructing a spell at the first opportunity. “The charm will not be enough, however,” he reminded himself. “I must also think of some argument to convince Ascilius to release me from my promise to travel to Nefandus on foot.”

The sight of several large hares, which had suddenly appeared nearby, returned Elerian’s thoughts to his surroundings. He noticed at once that the sleek brown creatures were keeping close to the larger boulders that were scattered about and often interrupted their grazing to look up at the sky. When Elerian raised his own eyes, he saw the reason for their caution, for the dark shapes of several large hawks wheeled lazily in the sky overhead, looking for prey. Elerian studied the raptors carefully with his long sight. Although there was nothing about them to indicate that they were not real hawks, he was still glad that his illusion hid the company from their sight.

“We should be on our way,” said Ascilius just then as he rose abruptly to his feet. After packing their things, the company set off once more. Running easily in single file, they continued on until the sun began to drop into the west, and the evening shadows cast by the rocks around them began to lengthen behind them into the east. As they passed a stretch of bare, soft soil by the side of the stream they were following, Ascilius suddenly stopped and pointed to a single, large cloven footprint that was clearly visible in the soft ground.

“Look at this track,” he said to his companions as they gathered around him. “I have seen no cattle about and this is far too large to be the track of a goat.”

“It is the track of the Gargol,” said Elerian positively. “The creature must have come this way on one of its hunts.”

“How can you be sure it is the same creature, Elerian?” asked Dacien worriedly, for he was still not convinced that the creature that had abducted Ascilius was the only one of its kind to have passed through the gate Elerian had closed.

“This track is at least three days old,” pointed out Elerian as he studied the dried, crumbled edges of the print. “The Gargol would have had ample time to pass this way and then return to the passageway before we ever entered it through the Black Gate.”

“You are probably right, Elerian, but I think it best to err on the side of caution,” replied Ascilius. “It will be dark soon, and I think it best if we begin searching for a place where we might safely spend the night just in case you are mistaken in your belief that there is only one of the creatures.”

“Let us hurry then,” urged Elerian. “I must end my illusion soon, otherwise the spell will become a beacon to any who have mage sight once the sun sets.”

They ran on then, all of the company except Elerian casting nervous glances all around them. In spite of his reassurances, his companions were still more than half convinced that the creature that had made the track still lurked in the valley. They had covered no more than a quarter mile before two close set, large boulders that appeared on their right attracted Ascilius’s attention because of a narrow gap between them. Hoping to find a protected place to spend the night, the Dwarf ran up to the cleft, followed by the rest of the company.

“Let me go first,” said Ascilius quietly to his companions before warily slipping through a narrow fissure whose roof was open to the darkening sky. Five paces brought Ascilius out into the open. Looking around him, he found himself on the edge of a roughly circular, grass covered opening about thirty feet wide. It was ringed by gray boulders which formed a wall around it that varied from fifteen to twenty feet high. On the far side of the hollow, forming an immovable anchor for the ring of stone, was an outcrop of gray rock, its roots extending deep beneath the surface of the valley. Near the base of the outcrop, a small trickle of clear water seeped out of a crack, running down the side of the stone to a small, clear pool ringed by thick turf. The overflow from the pool formed a small stream barely the width of Ascilius’s palm that that wandered across the clearing and disappeared under the boulders to his left. To the right of the spring, a great, flat slab of rock leaned against the outcrop, forming a shallow cave wide and deep enough to shelter the whole company.