Ashar'an Rising (Nexus Wars Saga) (62 page)

“
Here.” Once again willing his sword to flame, Valdieron lit the area enough for Andrak to see. Walking over to the Prince, Valdieron clasped him by the shoulder in greeting.

“
By the voids, what are you doing here in Sha'kar, Val?”

“
The same as you, no doubt, but I don't think we should stay around here much longer to discuss it. Come, I have a room at an inn nearby, we can talk there in safety.”

Suddenly reminded of where they stood, and what had just taken place, Andrak nodded and fell in beside Valdieron, while Janantar the silent Elf followed behind.

“
I would offer you food, but I can't even afford that,” laughed Valdieron as he closed the door behind them and moved to sit on the bed. He sat with a heavy sigh and began to remove his cloak, careful where it had stuck to his new wounds as the blood had dried.

“
That's all right. I have some money. I was forced to sell one of my father's rings, but it got us enough money to survive for a time, even though the merchant did cheat me badly.”

“
I know how you feel. It is never like this in any of the stories you read, is it? Money never seems to be a problem for any of the heroes I ever read about.”

“
No, that is for sure. I will be back in a moment with some food and drink.”

Valdieron nodded as the Prince slipped from the room, while at the far end of the room, the Elf was standing at the window, looking out over the dark city.

The wounds he had were not bad, though the one on his forearm was fairly deep, and would need a lot of rest. He moved to the bathroom and wet a cloth before returning to the main bedroom and stripping off his shirt to clean all of his wounds.

“
I am sorry I had to wound you, Valdieron.”

The words from the silent Elf surprised Valdieron, and he looked up to see the Elf regarding him again, as if he was trying to figure out who he really was.

“
That's all right,” replied Valdieron with a smile. “I didn't really leave you much of a choice, did I?”

“
No, you didn't,” laughed Janantar, and for a moment Valdieron was struck with the resemblance between this Elf and Llewellyn, but he passed it off as a natural trait. “And I have to admit that for a round-ear you fight very well.”

“
Not well enough, obviously,” mused Valdieron softly, for it hinted closely at the self doubts he had been feeling for some time now.

“
Now don't be too chagrined, Valdieron. Not too many people could have matched me as you did tonight. I know of only one, the Elf king Solantholas, and maybe his son, Kalandar.”

“
Then I am in grand company at least,” smiled Valdieron, liking the noble Elf already.

“
Yes you are, and I would be honored to hear your tale. There is about you a sense of fate, even on one so young, and I feel there was a reason we were joined tonight.”

“
It is a long story, and I will wait until Andrak returns and we have eaten.”

The Prince did not take long, and returned with drinks and enough food for the three. They ate slowly, talking softly and telling their stories, and while Valdieron was stunned at what had happened to the Prince since they had parted company in Thorhus, Andrak was incredulous when told of all that had happened to Valdieron in the same time.

“
And your friend, Javin, he is held in this arena, and will fight in the big event in two days?”

Valdieron nodded. “Yes. You obviously knew of the event, and it is common knowledge on the street some grand prize is on offer, so you came to the same conclusion as we did? Surely your sister is the prize for this combat called Gladius.”

Andrak nodded glumly at this. “Yes. We have seen and heard enough to have come to that likely conclusion. Part of me hopes it is not the case, but I know at least if she is held there, I can do something about it. If she is elsewhere, then I would not know how to find her.”

“
So what are we going to do, now? We have a copy of an invitation, but that will not get us all into the stadium.”

Andrak shook his head, indicating he had no answer, while Janantar said nothing.

After a long silence, Valdieron could think of little that might help them. “How much gold did you say you had, Andrak?”

“
About forty gold, plus some silver. Why?”

“
Maybe we can find somebody who could copy the invitation for us?”

Andrak was dubious, for he knew Sha'kar did not have as shady an underworld as there was in Thorhus, and any attempt at doing such might lead to more problems with the law if the person they approached turned them over to the city guard.

“
I don't know if we would have enough money, still. Such an act would be very costly, I think, just to compensate for the chance of being found out.”

“
Well, we can find out how much it will cost and if we have to, I will sell Javin's horse. We had planned to if we were stuck for cash, and I can see no other chance. For us to have any chance of finding Kitara and rescuing her, we need to all be inside that stadium. The guard is pretty tight with only two days to go, plus I don't know what magical wards this Zhak Lomar has set up in the grounds, so it is probably better we do it this way, I think.”

Andrak nodded agreement. “Yes, I think so, too. Now all we have to do is find somebody who will copy the invitation for us.”

“
Leave that to me, Andrak. I will find somebody who might help us.” Janantar rose and strode to the door before Andrak could respond, though by the look on the grim Elf's face, there was nothing either could do to stop him.

“
Just be careful, Janantar. We can't afford to have to rescue you from the city dungeon, that is if they don't just hang you first.”

At this, Janantar turned and smiled. “Never seen a rope yet that can hold an Elf's neck.” Laughing at his own joke that neither Andrak or Valdieron found particularly amusing, the Elf was gone.

“
He seems like a handy person to have around,” mused Valdieron, eyes still on the door. He was thinking of another Elf as he spoke, and could not help but feel a moment's sadness as the vision of Llewellyn came to him.

“
He is invaluable. Many times he has saved my life, and he is a good tracker and hunter. It is unfortunate many view the Elves as outcasts, for they are truly a spectacular people with much history and honor.”

“
I can’t believe you have seen the Elf city!”

“
It was amazing!” breathed Andrak with a smile as he remembered the soaring glamour of the Sylvan city. “I had never thought something so beautiful could exist, but Lloreander is everything I have ever heard and read about, and then some. Words cannot describe it, because there is more to it than just its aesthetic beauty.”

Valdieron's mind wandered as he listened to the Prince talk about the Elvin city, and he wondered if he would ever see the fair city of Lloreander. He knew a part of him was Elvin, and would like to one day know who his grandmother had been, but that seemed more like a dream now than a reality with what still faced them here in Sha'kar.

“
If the gods are kind, then one day I will see it with my own eyes,” he whispered, rolling back onto the bed and closing his eyes.

“
I am sure you will see it one day, Valdieron, and you will be similarly impressed.”

But Valdieron did not answer. He was already lost in thought, and he needed to sleep, not just for the rest but for the answers he needed which were only available in Kel'Valor. He heard Andrak rise and move to Javin’s bed and drop onto it, though Valdieron knew the Prince would not sleep soon. He had seen the anguish in the young Prince's face, and knew he worried constantly for his sister.

Valdieron had the same worries, and more, but he couldn't afford to wallow in his self doubts and reservations, else there would be no hope for Kitara. He had made his own vow, and nothing would stop him from giving his everything to see it fulfilled.

“
Valdieron, you are wounded.”

“
Yes, master. It is not a bad wound.”

“
Then why have you not tended to it?”

“
I have. It will heal over time, and there is no infection.”

There had to be a reason behind the Master's strange introduction, for seldom did the master offer anything that wasn't important. “I have not the power to heal myself, as I have seen others do.”

“
There you are wrong, Valdieron. You have the power, but not the knowledge. Would you like to learn?”

“
Of course, master, but there is little time. I need to continue my other magical studies.”

“
This will not take long. Just do as I say, and I will show you.”

Valdieron nodded. “All right, show me.”

The master floated forward until he was right in front of Valdieron, and his presence was once again imposing from so close, though Valdieron knew he had no physical form here on Kel'Valor.

“
Close your hand around the injury, and concentrate your mind on the wound. You need to be in contact with the wound, whether it is on your own body or somebody else, so you can focus the magic. Now, build in your mind the image of the wound in every detail, and then picture the wound slowly closing, slowly healing, slowly coming together. Picture the blood returning to flow through you, picture a scar as it slowly fades away to clear skin. Picture the pain fading and your arm returning to normal.”

Valdieron did as he was told, concentrating his mind on the job at hand. He closed his eyes to form the picture clearer in his mind, working slowly and meticulously through what the master told him. He felt nothing as he did, apart from a twinge of the skin beneath his hand as he concentrated, but when he finished after what seemed an hour of concentration, he opened his eyes and pulled his hand from his arm to find there was no trace of the wound, save for a smear of blood on the palm of his hand. He gave a start and looked up, but where the master had been only moments before, there was nothing.

“
Remember Valdieron, magic is both the most ancient and most basic element in the universe. There is nothing that can not be accomplished with it, should you have the desire and the power.”

Feeling like he had just overcome a major hurdle in his learning, Valdieron turned and walked to the Hall of Magic, the faintest of smiles on his face showing for the first time in many days, as he felt like he was truly getting somewhere.

Walking
beside Andrak, Valdieron watched the gathered crowd around him and looked for any signs of trouble, as the three made their way slowly towards the entrance to the great Stadium of Gladius. Overhead, the afternoon sky was overcast and threatening, and once again he offered a silent prayer to Phaeron to keep the rain away, at least until they were safely inside the stadium.

Looking over at Andrak, he was reminded how a simple change of weather could threaten their entire plan. Dressed in a fine set of clothing, as both Valdieron and Janantar were, Andrak was also wearing a dark sheen of powder over his exposed portions of skin, so he appeared more like a Dak'marian to all but the most skilled observer. His hair, naturally sandy, was dyed also, for there were few sandy  haired Dak'marians. He had the tall litheness of the southerners, plus his dark brown eyes were not uncommon.

Valdieron had to admit he did look the part of a Dak'marian lord or nobleman; he just hoped the rain did not come early and ruin their plan.

“
Are you sure this is going to work?”

Andrak threw him a reassuring smile, though there was tightness around his eyes that showed even he was not as sure as he appeared. “Don't worry. With Janantar wearing the mask of Kitara's, and us both with invitations, there will be no trouble getting inside. Just worry about getting out.”

“
Well, I wish you had remembered that mask earlier, so we could have planned things a little better.”

Somehow the Prince managed an abashed look, though he had already apologized many times for forgetting that the magical mask Kitara had owned had been secreted in the bottom of his pack.

Janantar, looking like a Dak'marian nobleman they had seen that morning, turned sharply to give them a silencing stare, but the youths knew the Elf was simply angry at having to wear the mask rather than from any threat of them being overheard. Around them, the milling crowd winding slowly towards the entrance was buzzing with anticipation and excitement, so there was little chance of being heard from more than a few feet away.

Clutching the invitation the Elf had only that morning returned with, Valdieron nervously kept his eyes downcast as they drew closer to the guards who flanked the entry. Several officials were collecting invitations and ushering the noblemen forward, and although there were many murmurs of anger at having to wait, few spoke loud enough to be heard, at least none who were near the Kiroba guards.

Luckily for Andrak, the officials were more concerned with keeping the line of people moving, so there was only a cursory glance at the invitations to see if they were authentic, before they were ushered through into the sloping passage that led into the stadium.

The passageway leading to the stadium proper was how Valdieron remembered it, though it was more decorated this day, with many tapestries and ornamental carvings and statues situated every few paces, as were the dark and silent Kiroba whose presence forced the steady line of people down the center of the passage. It was also well lit with lanterns set in ornate niches ten feet off the floor, while suspended lanterns of gold hung from the twenty  foot ceiling every ten paces. All doors or gates they passed seemed locked, and the armed Kiroba who stood at each made sure they remained so.