The Elf King (46 page)

“
We have no time for
threats, commander. You’ve been lied to about a great many
tragedies. But time is now to put that past you.” Terill quickly
reached out and placed his palm of his right hand against Ern’s
forehead and whispered. The magic laced within his words raced
through Ern’s mind and destroyed the lies and anger trapped within,
allowing Ern to think clearly and without bitterness. And just that
quick, Terill’s arm withdrew and Ern stared at him in newfound
admiration.

“
I hope in time, we can
become allies once again. Turyn Andelline would have wanted
that.”

Ern nodded. “Our people
deserve the truth.”

“
The truth is at hand,
Ern.” Ankar Rie replied grimly. “They will get more than they
bargained for.”

“
We need a strategy. We
need to know their numbers. We need to know how long before they
reach us, and from what direction.” Ern spoke, staring out into the
Shyl Plains. “I have maps—”

“
They come from the north.
They do not hide their approach. They have no cause to. They do not
fear you. Nor should they.” Terill continued his stare at Ern,
noticing the other grimace and hold back his response. “Their
numbers exceed us by tenfold. And they will be here before
nightfall.”

Ern tried to hide his
emotions, but failed. He swallowed hard. “My men will be
ready.”

“
Your men will die.” Terill
made no effort to disguise the truth. He looked away from the panic
in Ern’s eyes and stared across the Plains facing north. “Little
time remains for those who can save us.”

“
But you have magic,” Ern
stated to Terill in utter confusion.

“
Our
magics were stolen. We have been working on creating new talismans
to defend against the
Taker
horde. And we will need everything if we are to
have a chance.”

“
We must move your men
north above the Lyyn, Ern.” Ankar said, looking away from Terill
now to focus on the moment. “We need to hold them in the open for
as long as possible. If we have to fall back to the forest, things
will get more complicated.”

“
They will start off
complicated,” Terill smiled. “The Lyyn will be hidden.”

Ern Dwull stood waiting
with Ankar Rie for Terill’s follow up, but Terill said nothing in
conclusion. “I must get back to the men and report the news. We
will march north then, set up flanks to the east and west of the
Lyyn’s peak.”

“
My people are already
leaving the Lyyn. We will meet you on the Plains, commander.”
Terill stretched his hand out and clasped Ern’s strongly, then
walked away.

Ern turned to Ankar Rie.
His dark eyes were angry, his voice filled with rage and a purpose
to unleash it. “The demon did all of this! All of it! I saw it,
sorcerer. I saw it in captain Lon’s body escorting the Queen back
to Cillitran. It will pose as Lon, or anyone else, and search for
the sword to destroy it! We must get there first!”

Ankar Rie placed his hands
on Ern’s shoulders. The man was shaking in rage. “Commander, there
is nothing we can do now. Our journey heads north to fight the
horde. Others will be there to stop the demon. You are needed here.
This is where you can make a difference.”

Ern stood shaking. He was
silent for a minute. He still felt like he failed Lon. But the
sorcerer was right. His men needed him. “I will lead my army then,
sorcerer. We will fight until there is nothing left to
fight.”

“
You will not be alone,
Ern.”

Ankar Rie walked with Ern
to the top of the small rise and stood staring at the confused and
angered faces of his troops. The questions shouted from all angles,
seemingly from everyone, wanting to know why no attack was made,
why did the elf get to walk away? Ankar helped Ern to silence the
questions, doing the only thing he could to convince the army that
the Elves were not their greatest enemy.

“
Men of Cillitran, listen
to me!”

Swirling his hands in a
circle above their heads, Ankar Rie began to show the army visions
of his memory as he fought the
Takers
in Illken Dor. Vivid images
flashed in the sky above the men of Cillitran of the demons
spilling their fiery magic onto him, trying in vain to destroy him.
The army stood in awe, saying nothing. Ankar let it continue for
several minutes, allowing the men to see exactly what they were in
for. The closest men around him groaned and gasped in worry. A
feeling that did not depart even when Ern cautioned them about
their fears.

“
I have seen the treachery
from these demons! I know now that it was not the Elves who have
slain our king! We have been lied to! We have been cheated! But no
more! Hear me, men of Cillitran!” Ern grabbed his sword and thrust
it skyward into the visions. “It is these monsters that have taken
the life of my King and the Prince! They will suffer a defeat from
the hands of Cillitran!” Ern shouted. His eyes were angry. His
voice was filled with madness.

A few scattered shouts rang
back to him in agreement. But not everyone.

“
Who will stand with us?
Who will fight unmercifully in the face of evil?” Ern screamed
again. This time a loud roar came charging back.

“
Louder!”

The response was
deafening.

Ankar Rie let his visual
display fade away. The army had seen what was to come. He turned to
Ern, standing beside him with his sword raised skyward, and told
him it was time. He turned and walked north.

Ern was at his heels. He
yelled back to his men one final time. “For the King! For
Cillitran! For victory!”

Then together as one, the
army of men from Cillitran began moving towards the eastern edge of
the Lyyn Forest, heading north through the Shyl Plains.

“
W
e
will need them, Dorn.” Terill Estrial
said to his longtime friend as they stood on a rise a few
hundred yards north above the Lyyn Forest, looking back to the
Cillitran army now reaching the fringe of the Elven Hunters posted
at the rear of their secondary lines. Terill watched Dornawee’s
sour look soften.

“
Men.” Dornawee sighed
audibly. He shook his head slightly in disgust. “I’ve never trusted
one.”

Terill Estrial stood
beneath the mid-afternoon sun and patted the old elf on the
shoulder. “This may be the last chance you get.”

Dornawee nodded solemnly.
“And I’d rather not regret it.”

Terill looked away. He
faced north. A cloud of dust billowed on the horizon. They were
coming, he knew.

“
What hope do they have in
trusting us?” He spoke softly, almost to himself, as if he was
reflecting on deep regrets. Dorn stood quietly at his side. “By
nightfall, trust will not be a choice.”

Lord Estrial saw Dorn’s
head nod, heard him grunt something under his breath, but let the
matter drop there. The afternoon was warm, the sun was bright high
above the wispy clouds, and the land was as quiet as it was ever
going to get. Men were getting into position behind them. He could
hear the creaking of their weaponry as they lumbered off to the
right and left of the armies. The Elves stood at the helm of the
war ship, standing quietly facing the cloud of dust that would
bring with it the end.

Terill stood motionless for
a long time as he drifted away to another place, a time when he was
young and things in life were not confusing or stressful. When he
returned, he noticed that the young sorcerer was standing next to
him. He was not sure when Ankar had arrived at his side. But the
look on his face made him believe that Ankar was traveling
someplace else as well. Someplace nice, he figured, by the slight
smile forming across his stubble-worn jaw line. He stared at Ankar
for a moment more and thought to himself that it was hope. He
looked back across the sea of bodies waiting their fates, and saw
the hope in their eyes as well.

Hope.

He wondered how long hope
would last.

Chapter 26

T
he tunnels beneath the Andelline castle were damp, filled
with must, and choked with webbing. Kloe Datris and Wilt Oan were
the first people to venture this deep under the castle in decades.
Their footprints were obvious and unmistakable, set in the inches
of dust blanketing the stone-block and brick flooring of the
rounded corridor. They had been in the tunnels for the better part
of the day and all of the previous night in search of the fabled
sword. The secret chambers beneath the castle were a good place to
start the search, and so they had. But thus far, the search was
fruitless. Dead ends and empty chambers had been their treasures.
The sword was the key to winning the war, they knew. And if Ankar
Rie was right, the demon would not stop searching until it was
found. The pressure they felt for finding the sword quickly was
increasing by the moment.

Another dead end emerged
out of the darkness before them. Kloe Datris stopped, Wilt Oan
slumped against the cool wall in depletion holding a flaring torch.
“I’m not liking our pattern, Datris.”

“
Maybe there’s a secret
switch that activates a door to open.”

The sweat on Wilt’s
wrinkled face shimmered from the torchlight. “This could take some
time.”

They began moving their
hands across the cool stone walls searching for anything to trigger
an opening. Every crack and crevice was checked, every stone within
arm’s reach was combed over. Nothing. Finally exhausted from the
effort, they decided to backtrack.

“
This could take weeks!”
Oan cried out loud. “We don’t have time for games!”

“
You and I know this palace
like no other,” Datris replied calmly. “If we cannot find it, then
it will not be found.”

“
What
if
she
already has it?”

Kloe Datris looked down at
the old man for a second then looked away. He had not considered
that to be an option. He decided that he would not. “The sword is
here. We will find it.”

“
Yes, of course. Forgive
me, friend. I am old, and this search is impossible.”

Wilt turned in the other
direction, swaying his torch in vain. They continued to search the
dead end walls until exhaustion forced them to backtrack, leaving
them in wonder. They spent the remainder of the tunnel searching
the bricks more closely, looking for any trigger to unlock a secret
doorway. The search was hopeless. After a few hours of searching in
desperation, they found themselves back to where the search
began.

Wilt Oan stood at the
doorway to the secret library. His old face was tired. His mouth
sagged open with sweat trickling down his wrinkled skin to
disappear within his beard. Without waiting for a response from
Kloe Datris, he released the lever and opened the door, stepping
into the room with an audible groan and hanging the torch in a wall
bracket before dropping himself onto a chair by the
table.

Kloe Datris seated himself
across from Wilt. “We are missing something.”

Oan nodded. “We should read
further. There are a lot of books here. Maybe it’s mentioned
someplace else?”