The Dwarf Kingdoms (Book 5) (3 page)

“You are a fool to let an enemy walk away free,” he said mockingly. “Be assured that I will not make the same mistake if our positions are ever reversed.”

Elerian made no response as the Peregrin rode off after his companions who had already disappeared into the forest.

“A strange people,” he said softly to himself. “They are fair to look upon, but underneath they are hard as Goblins, looking upon mercy as a weakness.”

Elerian started when a familiar voice said softly, “An act of kindness is neither weak nor foolish.” Turning swiftly to his right, Elerian’s heart lifted when he saw Anthea standing there.

“You have come at last,” he said gladly, forgetting both his surroundings and his purpose in the forest at the sight of her. His first impulse was to seize her in his arms, but then his third eye opened, and he saw that her golden shade was veiled in an illusion spell. Extending out through the golden cloak of the illusion was a thin tendril of gold that ended at his right shoulder, carrying her thoughts to his mind. Unable to help feeling disappointed that she had come to him as a wraith again, leaving her body behind, Elerian closed his magical eye so that he might see the illusion she had cast over herself, preferring its beautiful form to her featureless shade.

“I would have come sooner, but I seem to be unable to open the portal between our rings unless I am well rested and you are in danger,” explained Anthea, her fair face mirroring the frustration she felt at being unable to use her new powers fully.

“I shall risk my life every day then, without fail, if that will bring you to my side,” said Elerian lightly.

“Your flattery would be more convincing if I had not seen you flirting with that red-haired sorceress just now,” replied Anthea, a frown darkening her fair face.

“I was not flirting,” protested Elerian. “I was merely talking to a stranger that I met by chance.”

“A beautiful stranger who offered to take you with her to some unknown realm where I would never have seen you again,” pointed out Anthea frostily. “Would you have talked to her if she was ugly?”

“Of course I would have,” replied Elerian virtuously. “Maybe not as long, but I would certainly have talked to her,” he added with a sudden gleam in his gray eyes.

Anthea’s clear laughter suddenly filled his mind, and her illusory face cleared. “At least you are honest,” she said lightly, sending her thought to him through the golden tendril of her shade that still touched his right shoulder. “Sit with me now, for we have not conversed in too long.”

Elerian eagerly sat down on a large tree root growing by his feet. For safety’s sake, he called his ring of invisibility, vanishing instantly when it appeared on his right hand. With his third eye, he saw Anthea’s golden shade sit down beside him. She had ended her illusion so that she, too, was invisible to normal sight. Thoughts began to pass silently between them, carried by small spheres of golden light insubstantial as sunbeams.

“Have you ever heard of the Peregrin before?” asked Elerian.

“There are tales told among my people about a strange troop led by a red haired sorceress that hunts these northern forests, carrying off any men or Dwarves that they encounter, but I never gave them much credence before,” replied Anthea. “How did you cross paths with them?”

“I interrupted their hunt,” explained Elerian. “Laralerian, their leader, told me that they come here through a series of gates once every half century to hunt the leopardi that live in this wood.” He fell into a pensive silence then, trying to imagine the wonders the Peregrin had seen in their travels.

 “I heard her offer you both her beauty and her knowledge,” said Anthea, interrupting his thoughts. “Were you tempted to go with her?”

“No,” said Elerian at once. “I felt from the first that she was not someone that I could ever trust.”

“So it was suspicion and not your heart that directed you to reject her,” said Anthea, her voice suddenly as frigid as a winter morning.

Elerian suddenly felt rather like a fox surrounded by hidden traps. “I must tread warily here,” he thought uneasily to himself. “I had rather face a company of Goblins than her wrath.” After a moment’s thought he began to speak in an earnest voice.

“Anthea, even if Laralerian had proved herself trustworthy and kind, I would still have chosen you, for you are ever on my mind. When I see the rich hyacinthine sky of last light, I think of your eyes. Then, after night falls, the bright stars bring to mind the gleam in your dark locks.”

“I see that your tongue has grown more glib away from me,” said Anthea mockingly.

“I speak only the truth,” insisted Elerian, silently breathing a sigh of relief, for he could tell by Anthea’s voice that she was pleased by his answer.

“It is fortunate for me that she is not here in her physical form, or I would be as tongue tied as ever,” he thought to himself. Just the thought of her slender body sitting next to him was enough to heat his blood and make his head spin.

“How are things at your father’s court?” he asked, seeking a safer subject.

“I am besieged by suitors,” said Anthea slyly. “You presume much leaving me alone for all this time, for my father constantly urges me to choose some brave knight to replace you.”

“Perhaps you should listen to him, Anthea,” replied Elerian gravely “I have come out of Ennodius with no treasure and only the prospect of more fighting ahead of me.”

“You are as much a fool as ever I see,” replied Anthea, her playful mood dissolving into impatience, for she had hoped that, stung by her teasing, Elerian might urge her to finally join him. “Where are you now?” she asked. “I see forest around you instead of the dark stone walls of Ennodius.”

“Ascilius and I have left Ennodius,” replied Elerian. “We are in the hills to the north of the city.”

“How does he fare?” asked Anthea in a concerned voice.

“He has lost his family, his friends, and his city to the dragon,” replied Elerian gravely, “but his courage is unabated. He is determined to take his people to Galenus despite the Goblin army that has besieged it.”

“Poor fellow,” said Anthea sadly. “You must not treat him harshly, Elerian,” she said, her voice suddenly stern.

“I treat him like my own brother,” replied Elerian virtuously.

“That is what I am most afraid of,” replied Anthea severely. “Would that I was here with you to keep an eye on him and share in your adventures,” she said sadly. “Each day it seems you travel farther from my side into worse danger while I grow ever wearier of my suitors’ attentions and my inactivity. If you do not return soon, I have decided that I will travel to Iulius over the northern plains. I will wait for you there until your business with Ascilius is done.”

“That is a dangerous plan, Anthea,” warned Elerian gravely. “It will only serve to place you in needless peril while turning your father against us. You promised to wait for me as long as need be when we parted. Try to be patient for a little longer,” he pleaded.

“I should never have made that promise,” said Anthea ruefully. “If I had listened to my heart and not my head, I would never have agreed to remain behind. Tell me Elerian, would you wait quietly for me in a place of safety if our situation was reversed?” Anthea asked quietly.

A long moment of silence followed her question.

“Your silence tells me better than words that you would not,” said Anthea shrewdly. “Since you counseled me to a course of action that you would never follow yourself, I consider myself absolved of my own promise.”

“I ask you to remain in Tarsius to keep you safe and because of my own uncertain future, Anthea, not because I do not want you by my side,” said Elerian gravely in a last attempt to dissuade her from leaving Niveaus. “I must still pass through many dangers even before I reach Galenus, and there may be even worse perils ahead of me that I cannot foresee.” The image of the dark plain that he had seen in his crystal orb when he had looked into it in Ascilius’s workshop suddenly appeared in Elerian’s mind, a reminder of how perilous his future might become. “I may never return to Tarsius alive, Anthea,” he said somberly. “It was my unspoken thought that if I fell, you could more easily forget me if you remained in your own country surrounded by friends and family.”

“Laralerian had the right of it,” said Anthea in an exasperated voice. “You are a half-wit! You should realize by now that I can never forget you. If you do not return, I will find some way to follow you. You will not leave me to linger alone on this earthly plane.”

“I should have expected no less from her,” thought Elerian resignedly to himself. “She is like Ascilius and myself. We do not give our loyalty lightly, but once given only death can reverse it.”

“I cannot stop you from joining me if that is what you wish, Anthea,” replied Elerian reluctantly giving in. “I ask only that you give me a few more days before you set out from Niveaus. There is always the hope that I may return to Tarsius with your bride price if Ascilius and I succeed in entering Galenus. I would still have you remain on good terms with your father.”

“From time out of mind women have left home and family to follow their men, but I will wait a bit longer even though my heart urges me to leave Tarsius as soon as ever I might,” replied Anthea grudgingly. “Return to me even if you come empty handed, for the treasure no longer matters. With or without my father’s approval, I am minded to travel to the forests of your youth and dwell with you there instead of Tarsius.”

“It would be dangerous for you to leave the protection of your homeland,” objected Elerian. “Even if we survived the dangerous journey through Ancharia and reached the Abercius, there would be no lasting safety for us there.”

“Not even Tarsius will be safe for ever if Torquatus is not defeated,” replied Anthea somberly. “I would rather have a few years of peace and happiness in your Abercius rather than become a stranger in my own land. I continue to change, Elerian. Open your eyes and see me as I am now.”

Elerian closed his third eye as an illusion spell cloaked Anthea’s shade once more. Dumbfounded, his eyes took in her face and form. She was the same but there was perfection to her now that both delighted and mesmerized the eye. A light shining deep within her sapphire eyes gave visible evidence of her growing power, lending an edge of danger to her beauty.

“Sooner or later I must leave the world of men behind whether I wish to or not,” said Anthea to Elerian when he remained speechless. “I must go now my love,” she said more softly. “I grow tired, and my body sits unguarded and quiescent in my room, for it is daytime, not night. I would not like to have it discovered in that state. I will come to you again when I may.”

Anthea’s illusory body abruptly vanished as her shade returned to her faraway body. Like one released from a spell, Elerian blinked and looked around him. Suddenly he smiled as he realized that by the simple act of showing him her image, Anthea had shattered his last argument and bent him to her will.

“Her beauty is only exceeded by her cunning,” he thought to himself wryly. “It is clear to me now that even if we were wed, she cannot remain in Tarsius where she would eventually become an object of curiosity, suspicion, and even jealousy and hate, men’s’ hearts being what they are. Only in some remote place removed from the sight of men and the reach of Torquatus can we dwell, at least for a time, in peace.”

Rising to his feet, Elerian turned his light, invisible steps south toward the Dwarf road, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Even if he failed to obtain any treasure in Galenus, he could still return to Tarsius as soon as Ascilius and his people were safe in the city.

“I had rather return with a bride price and part with Orianus on good terms,” he thought to himself, “but if Anthea is determined to leave Tarsius even without being wed then leave we must, hoping that time will heal any rift created by our secret and unsanctioned departure.”

 The miles passed quickly and without further incident beneath his light, tireless stride. Only once before reaching the Dwarf road did he catch a flicker of motion in front of him when some wary forest creature fled after detecting his invisible, silent presence. Elerian had only a glimpse of a sleek, reddish brown hide and a long, dark twisted horn before the creature vanished. He found only a single, large cloven footprint on the forest floor to mark the creature’s passage.

“That was no red deer,” he thought to himself, intrigued by the solitary, gleaming horn that he had seen. Regretfully, he continued on his way, for he had no more time to waste. Soon after that, he struck the Dwarf road again and followed it west, guessing that by now Ascilius and his company of Dwarves were ahead of him. As he ran alongside the road, it appeared empty to his normal sight, but when he overtook the Dwarf column, his third eye revealed the flickering, pale shades of the Dwarves behind the golden veil of the illusion spell which covered them.

When he reached the head of the column where Ascilius ran alone with head bowed under the weight of his responsibilities and anxieties, Elerian stepped back onto the road, sending away his ring in the same moment. Ascilius and the Dwarves behind him, their nerves already stretched thin, started as Elerian became visible, running easily next to Ascilius’s right shoulder.

“You could at least cough or give some other warning before appearing so suddenly,” growled Ascilius, his heart pounding.

“It is much more exciting for both of us this way,” said Elerian cheerfully.