Ashar'an Rising (Nexus Wars Saga) (14 page)

He was stripped of his clothing down to his underclothes and covered by a thick woolen blanket that itched slightly when he moved, though it was warm and snug. He lay on a pile of furs, from what animal he could not tell, though they were expertly prepared and cured.

Rolling to a sitting position, he felt his body protest. Throwing off the heavy blanket, he studied himself in the vague light. His knees, hands, elbows and thighs were all worn with scrapes and bruises, a reminder of his desperate flight, while a wound to his thigh was covered with a press and retaining bandage. He remembered the grazing wound from the crossbow bolt that had not seemed too bad when he was pumped up, but it must have been serious enough to warrant a bandage.

His left leg was also bandaged from lower thigh to calf, ridged with several straight sticks protruding from the bandage. There was a faint ebbing of pain from the wrenched knee as he moved, and although he was no healer, it felt bad, which probably meant it was.

A soft shuffling at the cave's entry alerted him then, and he reached for his sword which was nowhere nearby, leaning against a wall well out of reach, but as the wall of foliage parted, it was no Goth that entered but the lanky figure of the Elf, or at least he thought it was the same Elf who had helped him the previous night.

Dressed in brown shirt and trousers that were striped in a pattern of jagged greens, light and dark, the Elf pushed back a hood of the same hue, revealing his face. Andrak had glimpsed it momentarily the night before, but could remember nothing about it. It was striking, as Elvin features were, but this one appeared even more handsome than those Andrak had seen before, with the possible exclusion of Llewellyn.

This Elf had pale golden hair, like a sandy beach during a pristine sunrise, long and straight down past his shoulders. His face was narrow, with dominant cheekbones, high forehead and narrow chin. His mouth was thin, and its width did not seem out of place, while his nose was slender and slightly pointed. That which made him without a doubt Elvin, his pointed, lobeless ears, were pierced with several silver and gold rings, some bearing small gems or bars of gleaming silver. Piercing green eyes alighted on Andrak instantly, though they softened as he stepped towards him carrying in his right hand a small bag, while the other carried his strung bow.

“
I did not expect you up so early,” he spoke almost apologetically, shifting to the side of the cave and resting his bow against the wall after unstringing it carefully. His quiver he also removed, though his sword remained at his waist opposite a long knife, and in his left boot protruded the hilt of a small dagger. “I have enough food cooking for two, however.”

It was spoken in Elvin. Although Andrak was well versed in the language, he had hardly been required to use it in times past, other than some small conversations with Llewellyn, by whom he had been taught, and he had trouble following it.

“
I trust you slept well?”

Andrak nodded eventually. He was still trying to sort through the jumbled images he was recalling, along with the surprise at having been saved by one of the Treeborn. “Sal. Natara hal.”

“
There is no need for thanks,” smiled the Elf, reverting to the common Language of the North, sensing Andrak's struggle with his language. “How are your wounds?”

“
Well, though I think my leg will be a while in healing.”

The Elf nodded. “It was not bad, but unless you keep off it, it will take even longer to heal. Two or three days rest and you should be able to walk on it again.”

“
Two or three days?” asked Andrak incredulously. “I would have thought two or three weeks at the least. I do not heal as fast as you, my friend.” He knew Elvenkind were practically immortal, with life spans dwarfing those of the other races, and that for an Elf to die of unnatural causes was unheard of. Battle and old age were the most common causes of Elvin deaths, and their bodies were naturally regenerative.

“
With these, you will,” assured the Elf, holding up the bag he was carrying. He tossed it off to the side with the other equipment.

“
What is in it?” asked the Prince curiously. Whatever it was would have to be highly medicinal if it was to help him recover in a few short days.

“
Herbs and vegetables. I can mix some salves and potions to aid your healing, and although they will taste foul, you will improve rapidly.

“
That is usually the case with anything good for you,” muttered Andrak dryly. “Always the bad with the good.” He thought he noticed the Elf grin slightly as he bent to sift through the circle of embers with a stick.

“
Will we be safe for that long?” he asked, louder this time, though he was sure the Elf would hear him if he whispered.

“
I think so. The Goth are not usually vengeful, and they probably think we are well clear of the area by now. If we lie low, they shouldn't bother us.” The Elf didn't say what would happen if they did, though he did cast a wary glance at the entry, which did nothing to appease Andrak's apprehension. “Besides, they usually go into hiding to lick their wounds after such losses.”

“
Losses? How many did you kill last night?”

“
Seven by my bow, two with my blade, while another broke his neck in a fall. Combine that with the three you killed, and that makes for one unsuccessful Goth raid.”

“
I did not think the Goth were so prevalent at this time of the year,” mused Andrak; though he admitted to himself the extent of his knowledge about such matters was not great.

“
They are usually not, but this year seems to be different for them, somehow. More and more are venturing from their holes, which is why I am here. I am what you would call a scout. I have been assigned to determine the extent of these wanderings and expeditions and report my findings.” He finished with a sigh as he shifted away from the fire and leant back against the wall, facing Andrak. He looked as if that which he had already discovered was not weighing well with him.

“
Well, I must thank you for your intervention last night. My luck seemed to be running out fast on me. I hope showing yourself hasn't compromised your assignment.”

“
I am overdue in returning home, anyhow, but your thanks are not necessary. You are just lucky that I had not left for home yesterday like I had planned.”

“
Maybe it was more than luck,” stated Andrak, thinking of the book his Sister had been reading about the prophecies, but he shook it off, though he did look to see if his pack was present and it was, piled beneath his leaning sword.

“
The food is almost ready, but it should give us enough time to tell me what you are doing passing through these hills alone.”

Andrak watched him silently, trying to match the unblinking gaze of the Elf. What could he tell this stranger, and what could he leave out that wouldn't offend him?

“
It might help if we were introduced first.” At this, the Elf brought out a fine silver chain from around his neck, on which hung the outline of a golden tree. Its leaves were aureate with silver specks, while the slender bole was interlaced with the same silvery material. “Do you know what this is?”

Andrak nodded, and a wave of what he could only call foreboding washed over him. What the Elf had brought out was something only a handful of Elves on Kil'Tar could possess lawfully. It was made of pure gold, and the silvery material was Platinum, making it worth a great deal. It also signaled that this was no ordinary Elf to have 'chanced' upon him and saved his life.

“
I am Janantar, Son of Clovinius and Nephew of Solantholas, King of Lloreander.”

Andrak could only gape with awe for many moments, causing Janantar to chuckle softly. “Come now. You have obviously seen Elves before. Do not worry, there is no need to bow before me or anything like that.”

Andrak was brought from his shocked silence by this quip, and felt one of his own in the making. “Maybe it is I who should be excusing you from such formalities, Janantar, Son of Clovinius. Recognize you this signet?”

So saying, Andrak dragged himself the two paces to where his sword rested against the wall. The weapon had been crafted for him after his own design, and where the hilt looked plain with a wooden grip and flared pommel, a careful twist allowed the balled pommel to screw loose, revealing a secret apartment. Inside, a layer of wool was rolled around a small object.

Carefully unrolling the sheet, he revealed a gleaming silver and gold ring which he usually wore on his left hand. On it was the Lavender rose and silver diadem insignia of the Royal House of Thorhus.

Janantar's cool expression made it appear that he did not know the significance of the ring, but he rose slowly. Then, with a flourish, he dropped one knee beneath him in a formal bow, one arm sweeping across him as his head lowered. It was done with such poise that Andrak could not help but break into laughter, somehow sensing the Elf's mocking manner. Janantar finished his bow and dropped back to his seat, a smile played across his youthful face.

“
It seems we are both a long way from home, Prince of Ariakus.”

“
Indeed we are. Truth be told, my tale is long in the telling, and has certain elements which require a certain amount of caution.” It was his way of telling the Elf that some things he knew he could not speak of, at least not yet, but Janantar merely nodded acceptance of this.

“
We all have secrets, do we not, Kal'blis.”

Andrak could only laugh at this, but found the hand of fate pushing him again, and he sensed it was no coincidence the nephew of the King of Lloreander had saved his life. He told the Elf all that he knew, from when Ka'Varel had arrived at Thorhus, up until the attack and kidnap of Kitara. After all, that was why they had been going to Lloreander in the first place, and if he were to continue his search for Kitara, he would need somebody to carry the news there.

It was not a tale of great magnitude, but Janantar made him go over every detail, questioning him about Ka'Varel and his knowledge of these Demons, as well as the Ashar'an Assassin who had entered Thorhus and almost killed Kitara. He seemed curious about the young man, Valdieron, whose Dragonsword intrigued him, which led to the telling of the events of the tournament.

All in all, Andrak felt like he had spoken for hours when he finished, though they had eaten during the telling. Not surprisingly, after he was done Janantar remained pensively quiet. Suddenly tired, with a full stomach and peace of mind, he rolled back over and went to sleep, safe in the knowledge that he was safe.

Janantar
returned to the small clearing where he and Andrak had set up camp, as quietly as the soft breeze that tousled his long hair. Bow in hand; he seemed to have had no trouble while away.

“
Is it done?” asked Andrak fervently, standing carefully to view the tall Elf. They were only into their second day out of the Arkanth Ranges, and his leg was slow on the mend, though he had walked for almost all of the previous day without too much pain or discomfort.

“
The message is sent. The hawk should reach Lloreander some time tomorrow, and from there another message will be sent to your father.”

Andrak smiled slightly, feeling somewhat better knowing something would soon be done to track down Kitara, but he was concerned what reaction his father would have concerning the news. He had not been overly willing to send them on this trip to Lloreander, after all.

“
Do not worry, Andrak. After we have returned to Lloreander, we will find your sister, if she is not already found. All will be well.”

“
But how will we find them?” pleaded Andrak, feeling slightly angered by the fact he had to give up Kitara's chase. “They could be anywhere by now.”

“
Maybe, but if there is a trail, I will find it. There are few things that can leave no trail for a skilled Elvin tracker, and simply put, my friend, I am the best.”

The arrogant boast of the Elf made Andrak smile thinly, though he had witnessed over the last two days that the Elf was indeed more than comfortable leading them through the rugged terrain of the mountains.

“
But that will not happen if we don't make it to Lloreander,” continued the Elf sternly as he glanced up at the rising morning sun. Taking his cue, Andrak stiffly began to gather up his belongings, willing himself on, knowing there was much riding on their speed.

“
Lead on, Great One,” he ordered as Janantar took the first steps out of their campsite. At this, the Elf let out a laugh and straightened mockingly, his head held high and straight.

'If only I had your playful spirit, my friend', Andrak mused as he dropped in behind the Elf, but he knew that while Kitara was beyond his grasp, there would be few reasons for him to smile.