Ashar'an Rising (Nexus Wars Saga) (42 page)

“
Such tenuous allegiances I cannot allow among my ranks, I fear.” Zhak Lomar shrugged, turning from Hagar to Kitara, whose horror  filled eyes regarded the Sorcerer like a monstrosity. Witnessing such an act was both stunning and confronting, especially as it gave her an indication as to what sort of predicament Hagar had led her into.

“
Come, Princess. It seems things have not started off well between us. Let us talk and dine together.” When Kitara did not answer or flinch, he gave a mocking bow. “But of course, you would like to clean up first, am I right? My men will escort you to my apartments where you will be staying for but a short period, I fear, so do not get comfortable.” With another bow, this one flourishing, he spun as his Kiroba moved to Kitara. “I am not as bad as you think I am, Princess, as you may find out in time. Until this evening!”

Whatever magic held Hagar remained as the Kiroba escorted Kitara from the room, but the last glimpse Kitara got of the assassin, she recognized the look of a trapped animal, knowing it was only a matter of time before the hunter came to end its existence. Wondering what this ‘Gladius’ was that the Sorcerer mentioned. If somebody like Hagar could expect death there, she imagined whatever macabre images she conjured probably paled in comparison.

Thoughts of death turned her to her own predicament, however, as the Sorcerer words, ‘sacrifice to the Lord of the Dread’, filled her heart with icy terror.

Andrak
found it hard to fight back tears as he stood at the edge of the great Glade of Lloreander. Around him, the Elf city was a hive of activity as everybody carried out his or her orders to prepare for evacuation of the city.

But it was the mass at the center of the glade that brought the tears to Andrak’s eyes. There, seven hundred and fifty Elvin warriors and fifty Sylvan Druids were gathered on the command of Solantholas himself, who stood at the center of the gathering. These would carry out the attack on the Demons, seeking to destroy them and then obliterate the Portal the Demons used to pass from the Voids to Kil’Tar.

It was some consolation that both Janantar and Ashaella were not numbered within the gathered force. About a tenth of the Elvin populace had been spared, numbering warriors and Druids also, so they could find refuge elsewhere and spread word of the Demons if it was not already known.

“
I would understand it if you did not wish to aid me any more, Janantar.” The recently healed Bladesinger stood at his side, clutching his red eyed sister to him, his own eyes rimmed with moisture. The pain on his face was evident, though he did not show it as much as Ashaella. Both of their parents were among those who would meet the Demons, and Andrak knew both Janantar and his sister would readily have been with them or taken their places.

“
The time has come for change, Andrak. For the first time since our creation, we of the Sylvaen are driven from our home. I cannot change that, and though I would like to join my kindred as they battle with the Shadowspawn, I think what we do is in some way linked to a greater purpose.”

“
Where will your people go?”

“
South. The Zarn have always been more accommodating to us. Hopefully they will understand the circumstances.”

“
Some word should have reached Zarn by now concerning the threat, but it is unlikely many outside the court of Zarn will know of it. Perhaps the Lord of Kalidor will know.”

“
We will make them listen if we have to.”

“
If things take a further turn for the worse, there will always be refuge at Thorhus.”

The weak smile of thanks almost made him decide to change his plans and remain with the Elvin refugees, but the grim reality of the greater picture drew him back. There was a reason for him having to find Kitara; he knew it in his heart, and not only because she was his sister. Likewise, it was necessary he did not participate in the coming battle between Demon and Elf.

“
Come, Andrak. We must visit Perthanis before we depart.”

It was a uniquely sad moment where words spoke less than the briefest of fierce hugs as Janantar embraced his sister, while Andrak looked on. He could empathize with the position Janantar was in, with the possibility of not seeing his sister for some time, if ever again, with the Demon uprising an ever  increasing threat. He was not surprised to see unashamed tears streaking the Elf’s slender face as he broke from the tender embrace. He did not glance at Ashaella, fearing his own emotions might overflow at the sight of the beautiful Elvin woman weeping.

And then they were gone, torn away by fate or chance, both of them sharing similar thoughts of hope, shadowed by more fearsome doubts that were, for the time being, held at a distance.

Perthanis, whom Janantar described as being a once great Druid but was now as much a hermit as one could get among the Sylvaen, lived to the North at the outer limits of the tree city. The two moved quickly, not only because of their need to be gone, but realizing the sooner they were away from the ambient beauty of the city, the sooner they could shift the weight of guilt that clung to them.

“
Perthanis is not like any Elf you have met thus far, Andrak.” Janantar’s wry smile shifted to a frown as he surveyed the now desolate outer city. Where only hours before many Elves wandered as if uncaring about life and what it entailed, now there was but a dry husk. “He was leader of the Druids before my father, and his ways might seem a little eccentric for the unwary, though he is still considered wise amongst our elders.”

“
You have mentioned he can help us find Kitara. What is he, some kind of Seer?”

A soft chuckle preceded Janantar’s reply. “Sort of. His powers have always seemed irregular. Such has his peculiarity grown. When Ka’Varel visits us, he and Perthanis often meet and discussed a great many things.”

At the mention of Ka’Varel, Andrak wondered if Tyrun had managed to reach safety with the dying old scholar. He had said they would one day meet again if he had, but as yet the two were nowhere to be found, and already the Demon host was invading. Tyrun had also said that without Ka’Varel’s guidance there would be little hope, and at the moment, he felt as if they had reached that point.

Perthanis’ dwelling proved to be the hollowed stump of what must have been an enormous tree, fully fifteen paces across, but broken away as if from an explosion, forty feet above the leafy ground. Slender windows bore shutters, stained from weather and age, very unlike any other dwelling Andrak had seen, while the door was an arched entry covered with the colorful hide of some creature Andrak could not identify. Of golden hue with patches of white, it was the only thing that appeared clean, as if it had been freshly washed and cured the day before.

Slatted vents purged the interior of a dark smoke, giving Andrak cause to fear the dwelling was aflame from within, but Janantar assured him with a chuckle, such was not the case. An acrid scent permeated the air, probably carried within the smoke, making Andrak wonder, not for the first time, if this was a necessary stop off.

They were barely four paces from the ‘hut’ when the hide flap parted wildly and a figure appeared amidst a swirling of smoke. Startled, Andrak’s hand shifted to the hilt of his sword even as he wondered if Janantar had been wrong about a conflagration, but the figure appeared non  concerned. Indeed, he stood unmoving, arm raised to hold the hide, head cocked awry as if curious.

Janantar’s mentioning of eccentric seemed an understatement as Andrak took in the Elf. He appeared small and frail at first glance, but a closer inspection revealed a crookedness of frame that belied his shortness, though he would not have been taller than either he or Janantar if straightened. His clothes were tattered and unclean as if he had been wearing them for weeks on end without wash, which was a possibility judging by his blotched skin. Like the hide on the hut, only his stark white hair appeared clean, though unkempt, appearing much like a ‘spike tree’, a plant Andrak had seen growing in the castle grounds as a child.

Neither Elf spoke, with Janantar remaining as impassive as the stranger, whose dark eyes bore into Andrak from beneath his bushy brow. As if to mark the moment, no breeze stirred the trees, nor did any of the usual animal sounds drift through the silence.

“
We are after…” began Andrak, when it seemed as if no other would speak, though the Elf’s unblinking stare caused him to falter. “Ah, that is to say, we are looking for-”

“
And you have found him, Lion son. Fear not, I have been expecting your arrival. Come! Enter!” He shifted with a mocking bow to the side, still holding back the hide flap, motioning into the dim interior of the hut. Andrak paused momentarily, but knew the time for indecision was past.

“
Welcome, Oathbreaker!” This was aimed at Janantar, who ducked in behind Andrak, the words sounding mocking and accusatory, yet when Andrak looked back, Janantar wore a scowl of impatience rather than anger and Perthanis wore a teasing smile, like a young boy taunting a friend.

“
You know of why we come, Perthanis.”

If the old Elf was offended by Janantar’s growled words, he did not show it as he swept around the two and into the murkier interior of the room. Andrak gave a start at the haphazardly arrayed paraphernalia, which seemed both messy yet uncluttered. Books and scrolls lay in disarray, while jars and bottles sat amidst tools and other equipment. A central forge  like fire heated the room, and provided the thick cloud of smoke as well as dim light.

From somewhere, the distracted old Elf produced a dented silver flask and three equally dented mugs, seemingly of tarnished copper but without the grime or dust Andrak would have expected from anything buried amid the cluttered contents for any amount of time. Whatever the flask held, there was no smell over the acrid aroma already permeating the room, but the dark contents was not reassuring as the Elf meticulously poured three equal portions, making sure the stopper was replaced firmly before setting the flask aside.

“
A toast! To the end of the world as we know it!” Cackling laughter could only indicate the words were meant in jest, or at least Andrak hoped as he tentatively took the tankard from Perthanis. As he did, he caught his first real glimpse of the old Elf’s eyes, and realized there was little by way of madness in him. Like dark wells, they unblinkingly studied Andrak, weighing and searching.

Janantar accepted his own mug with a grudging acknowledgment of thanks, taking a leaning position against the wall near the exit. He caught Andrak looking at him and indicated he should drink, doing so himself without discomfort. Slightly reassured, Andrak sipped the dark liquid as he watched Perthanis busying himself, searching for something else within the room, his own tankard emptied with a mighty gulp and a satiated sigh before wiping his mouth with his shirtsleeve.

Whatever it was, it felt cool as Andrak took a sip, tasting slightly of sweetened apple or some other fruit. It was not until he swallowed that a fiery heat began to grow in his throat, building to a crescendo as he tried to simultaneously draw breath and cough. The result was a wheeze that thankfully passed quickly, and on retrospect, was not entirely unpleasant. He did not look at Janantar, but guessed the light  hearted Bladesinger would be enjoying a smile at his expense.

“
A’car’us! Roughly translates to mean ‘Dragon’s Fire’. Warms the blood, eh?” Perthanis rounded a cluttered table to stand before Andrak, who was surprised to find had found a seat atop a wooden stool. “Seen worse, the first time, haven’t we Oathbreaker, or are you the Seeker, now?”

“
I seek only rest from your nonsensical drivel, Perthanis. Was it not bad enough you filled Llewellyn’s mind with false prophecy, now you continue with me? We are a people at war, as you may see if you walk in the real world once in a while.”

Almost choking on his second swallow, and not only for the first reason, Andrak expected some harsh reaction from Perthanis, but instead the old Elf bowed his head as if chastised. He was whispering some barely audible words, however, of which Andrak heard only
‘the Harbinger’
.

Whatever was spoken, he raised his head after a time, and a trail of tears crept down his pale face, open pain visible in his carriage.

“
I know of my son, Janantar, and however much you think what I speak as nonsense, he believed as much as I, and knew there was little he could do to escape his destiny. He did not try and flee it as you think, but walked to accept it. And yes, I know we are at war, as I have forewarned many times, but it seems even we of the Sylvaen can be as mistrusting and naive as humans. ‘Not seeing the forest for the trees’ has somewhat of an ironic twist here, don’t you think?”

“
Ah, why is it you are not leaving with the others?” asked Andrak testily, still at a loss to decipher the sudden turn of the conversation. Was Llewellyn this man’s son? If so, was he some sort of scholar, as Ka’Varel appeared to be? If the two had met before, perhaps Perthanis really did know a little about what was happening. He guessed the bad blood between the two Elves here was something he should not get involved in, thus his intervention. They had too little time to be wasting it, especially after he finally agreed to meet Perthanis.

“
Why?” The old Elf became detached again, his eyes searching the room as if there were things he needed, but he made no other move save to turn slightly towards Andrak. “Why not? I am too old to run, Lion son. If Solantholas is successful, I will be safe. If not, then what need is there for me to survive?” The wistful expression that suddenly crossed the old Elf’s face passed quickly, but it left his eyes softened and his mouth twisted into a mocking smile. “There is nothing I could offer the rebuilding of our people. I am old even for our kind. It is too long since I returned to the Pacific Realm.”