Exiles From The Sacred Land (Book 2) (22 page)

Morgoran, Dorenn, Vesperin, and Melias walked for about twenty minutes before they were greeted by Brynna, Ianthill’s niece
.
A light blue dress with a white-laced collar perfectly fit her slender elvish figure.
Her facial features were soft and pleasing. Dorenn, thankfully, could see no resemblance to Ianthill. Tatrice lagged behind.

“Welcome to Rugania, Master Morgoran. My mother will be pleased to see you so well.”

“Aye, I am sure I looked a fright with clear eyes and a babbling mouth. That is all well behind me now; there are other, more pressing concerns to tend to now.”

Brynna looked intently at Dorenn. “Yes, I can see the malady within him, but it is not too late.”

Vesperin was curious. “You are a healer?”

“Aye, cleric of Loracia, not much different from your sect. My mother and I have healed wielders for generations, although time and ignorance has slowed business of late.” She smiled. “It is of little matter now. Let me take you to the citadel. Mother has prepared a meal for you.”

“Great, I am starved,” Dorenn said.

Brynna guided the party up a winding path to a set of stairs that led high up onto a hill where the citadel was built solidly into and on top of a heavy rock outcropping. Spiraling towers and bold walls blended in with the rocks, making the citadel appear a bit ominous.

A woman met them at the door. She looked like an older version of Brynna. She wore white rather than the light blue Brynna wore.

“Welcome, friend Morgoran.” She held her arms out, and Morgoran embraced her.

“It is pleasing to see you, Erinthill,” Morgoran said.

“And you, as well.” She clasped her hands together. “I insist you and your wary band of travelers have a meal. I had it prepared especially for you. Your cleric, Kerad already awaits you in the dining hall.”

“I’m certain we would be delighted to accept.”

She moved with grace to Dorenn and examined him briefly. “He is not lost to us yet. You are right to be concerned; he is far along with the malady, but not so much we cannot help him.”

“That is good news, my lady,” Morgoran said. Dorenn was surprised to see him smiling at her. He tried to remember if he had ever seen Morgoran smile before. He quickly concluded that he had not.

“Everyone, this is Ianthill’s twin sister, Erinthill. She has invited us all to dine with her,” Morgoran said. He leaned in close to Dorenn. “You are in for a rare treat!” He patted Dorenn on the back. “Let’s go while it’s still hot!”

The feast Lady Erinthill had prepared rivaled any Dorenn had ever seen, and he wondered briefly where all the food had come from. Surely this island is somewhat isolated and desolate. He decided he didn’t care and shoveled some roast chicken onto his plate.

Gondrial felt sick to his stomach. The process of bending, which the Kylerie elves were so adept at doing, made everyone but the Kylerie nauseated. As promised, Kyrie had managed to put them on the exact floor of the Sea and Fog Inn where Gondrial’s room was located. Kyrie helped Gondrial through the doorway as best he could for a person of his small stature.

“Gondrial! For the love of Fawlsbane, what happened?” Shey exclaimed, taking over from Kyrie and helping Gondrial to the bed. Ianthill sat in a nearby arm chair, awake and shaking his head. Enowene moved to help Shey. They put Gondrial on the bed while he groaned in pain.

“I was attacked by a cutthroat. Seabrey lives up to its nefarious reputation. We could have just as easily gone south from Basillain, Sanmir.”

“Sanmir went out for food and provisions,” Ianthill said. He had his eyes intently on Kyrie.

Shey fluffed the pillows and made sure Gondrial was comfortable before acknowledging what everyone else in the room was wondering.

“Kyrie, where in the world did you come from?” she asked with a somewhat suspicious tone.

“I came from Signal Hill, of course. Morgoran sent for me. I have a message for Ianthill.”

“Likely story,” Ianthill said. “Why would he send for you to tell me anything?”

“Morgoran knew I could get to you quickly; at least, that is what he told me.”

“Sorry, little one, but this time I will not be fooled. You and I have too colorful of a past. What proof do you have?”

“Morgoran told me to say this if you didn’t believe me: ‘Listen to him, you wool-headed elf. I don’t have time to put up with foolishness. The password is Brynna’s backside and—’”

Ianthill coughed. “That’s enough. What is the message?”

“You believe me now?” Kyrie asked.

“Yes, yes, aye, get on with the message.”

“Morgoran has traveled with Dorenn to the Great Sythian Forest. Queen Sildariel has stabilized Dorenn’s essence sickness, but Rugania is required for the cure. Travel to Ormond’s Arch at once to rendezvous with Morgoran.”

“If he is in Endil, how in the seven rings are we supposed to meet him in Ormond’s Arch? He will be there months before us. Dorenn would never make it that long. He must think we have a bigger Lora Daine or something.”

“Actually, his message says that he thought you were in Trigothia. He told me to look for you there in one of the Trigothian Kingdoms.”

“How did you find us here then?” Ianthill asked.

Shey spoke up. “Me. He bonded with me as a young girl and has been able to find and annoy me ever since. That is, until he was trapped at Signal Hill.”

“I still knew where you were. I just couldn’t leave.”

“I am sure you did,” she said, “and I am glad.” She smirked to let him know she was only kidding with him.

“It was a lucky thing he did come, or I might not have made it,” Gondrial said.

“Which reminds me, I need to start the healing magic on you and Ianthill,” Kyrie said. “The Enforcers are sparse in these parts, but I am sure the ones still around are starting their search.” He hovered over Gondrial, speaking a strange tongue and waving his hands. White light poured out of his palms.

Gondrial noticed the curious looks on the others’ faces. “I had to let Kyrie bend us here. It was the only way.”

“Quickly, Shey and Enowene, we need to ward this inn,” Ianthill commanded.

There came a short knock on the door, followed by Sanmir entering the room carrying newly procured provisions.

“Something has a handful of Enforcers stirred up out in the street,” Sanmir said. “Do any of you know why?”

“It’s us, as usual,” Gondrial quipped.

Sanmir noticed Kyrie. “A new member to our party?”

“An unavoidable one,” Gondrial said.

“Stop fidgeting and stop talking,” Kyrie scolded.

Ianthill sat forward in his chair. “Kyrie brings a message to us from Morgoran.”

“Ah, I see,” said Sanmir. “What is the message?”

“Morgoran sent me the message via the wood elves in Endil. He says for you to travel to Ormond’s Arch. Dorenn’s essence sickness will require the trials at Rugania.”

“Ormond’s Arch is months away. Do you have a plan?”

Ianthill sat back in his chair. “We cannot travel by Lora Daine. The short bursts you conjure up would not get us across the Strait of Adracoria.”

“Sanmir, could you duplicate the spell you used to enhance the stone’s power?” Gondrial asked. Kyrie growled with irritation. “Stop it, Kyrie, I’m not moving that much.”

“I fear that feat was accomplished in a spur of the moment. I am not sure I could duplicate it,” Sanmir warned. “It would be too dangerous. I am surprised I got us this far.”

Ianthill nodded. “We can go by ship across the strait, and when we reach Trigothia, we’ll go the rest of the way by foot.” He thought for a moment. “There is one other way. I have not seen it done in a thousand seasons, but we are strong, having four master wielders, and with the magic you possess, Sanmir, we just might be able to pull it off.”

“Pull what off?” Sanmir asked.

Ianthill winked at Sanmir as if to say,
you’ll see
. “Gondrial, do you remember the incident at Rhysen’s Bay during the War of the Oracle?”

“Aye, we were outnumbered and retreating by ship. Dramyds were flying around dropping fire on us and . . . Oh, I see what you are up to. Can you still accomplish such a feat? I haven’t seen it done since the war, and even then it was a difficult trick.”

“Aye, with a little help from all of you, it should be fine.”

Lady Shey and Enowene finished packing the new provisions.

Kyrie jumped down from the bed and found a small stool nearby to sit on. “There, all done. You are not completely healed yet, Gondrial, so don’t try to lift heavy objects, but you are healed enough to get around. Now you, Ianthill.” Kyrie started pulling at Ianthill’s robes.

“I am fine, Kyrie. I heal fast. I am an elf, remember? Get down.”

“Fine,” Kyrie said. He found a spot next to Gondrial and sat on the bed.

“Were any of the ships in dry dock, Gondrial?” Ianthill asked.

“I am not sure. I wasn’t looking for one. I did see a nice clipper. I am not sure it is still docked.”

“Why don’t you and Sanmir go down to the docks and find us a ship. Are you up to the task?”

“Kyrie healed me up pretty well. I feel fine.”

“Good, you know about what size she should be,” Ianthill said.

“Wait a moment,” Sanmir interjected. “I thought a ship would be too slow. We are going by ship now?”

Shey lit up as she caught on. “Aye, we
are
going by ship, but it won’t be slow.”

“Now you have it!” Ianthill exclaimed, pointing a finger at Shey.

Gondrial got down off the bed and patted Sanmir on the back. “Let me get out of these bloody clothes and we will go find us a ship to steal.”

Sanmir abruptly caught on. “Oh, no, you are going to do what I think you are, surely.”

“Aye, my old friend, this should be quite an adventure,” Gondrial said with excitement.

After the meal, Brynna showed each of the party to their rooms before they all met in the common room. Erinthill, Kerad, and Brynna took Dorenn aside to an adjoining antechamber for a more thorough exam. When they returned to the common room, Erinthill’s concern was apparent on her face. “The Isle of Doom is affecting him, Morgoran. We will have to forego some of the ritual and let him take the trial early.”

“I agree with Erinthill,” Kerad said.

“Affecting him how, exactly?”

“He grows worse by the hour. He is already showing signs far more advanced than when you arrived,” Brynna lamented.

“I can’t figure this out. Surely the state of affairs pertaining to wielding hasn’t been allowed to deteriorate this much. Look at him, for Fawl’s sake. I have never seen essence sickness like this before. In the old days, it was almost laughable.”

“In the old days, his training here on the isle would have cured it. I have seen this kind of sickness before, long ago. It resembles the sickness mindwielders go through,” Erinthill said.

“Mindwielders?” Morgoran perked up at the word. “No mindwielder I ever knew had any kind of essence sickness.”

“It’s not the essence that makes them sick. All of their power comes from the mind; it’s the mind that breaks.”

“Dorenn is no mindwielder. Nothing he has done has given me that indication.” His demeanor intensified. “What about tradition? No wielder has ever skipped the rituals.”