Suzerain of the Beast (Vision Dream Series Book 3), page 13
“You are right to be cross with me, my royal husband,” replied the queen. “I thought it might help her in the future if Dareldin again had to go on a dangerous mission. I had no idea she would rush to put it to use in this fashion.”
“You never even told me you could do such a thing,” complained the king.
“I never used it myself,” answered the queen. “I was saving it for a time when things were desperate to use it. When I saw what happened to the prince, I…I became so worried that I showed her how it was done.”
“How what was done?” asked Dareldin.
“There is a spell stone that one of Swevladilionian birth who has performed the Weldirdell to create an Iunctio can use to temporarily sever the connection. It is used to help shield the other from the connection during times of great danger. It seems, my dear Prince, that she has used it to hide herself from you, most likely in an effort to keep you from knowing and revealing her whereabouts,” said the queen.
“But…but why would she do such a thing?”
The queen just shook her head, for she had no answer for him.
Did she not love him? Did they not love each other?
Dareldin had sworn himself to her and resigned his life, his people and his kingdom to her for saving him.
Why would she repay him with this act?
“I will go after her this minute. Iunctio or not, I shall bring her back to you,” promised Dareldin.
“I have sent many of my best knights, and a special scout, out several hours ago to search the countryside for her,” said the king, turning around to face Dareldin and his wife. “What we were hoping was that you could offer us some insight into her motive. And I see that you cannot.”
“I am sorry, Your Majesties,” said Dareldin.
“It is not your fault. She seems to be the one who has created this,” said the queen.
“And she was the one who brought the Iunctio down upon you, son, without your permission,” added the king.
“You think it to be a burden to me? It is not a burden. It is a joy,” insisted Dareldin. He did feel that their connection was special to him. But she meant more to him than just being the one who saved his life. He wanted to be with her, to be part of her life.
“That warms my heart to hear,” said the queen, and she put her warm, soft hand on his.
“I will go and find her whether you have one man or a thousand out looking for her,” swore Dareldin.
“I appreciate the thought, Dareldin. I really do,” said the king. “But my knights on the border intercepted one of your knights crossing back into Rosverdar. You must forgive my men for giving him a rough reception at first, thinking he was an enemy spy.”
“Who is it?” wondered Dareldin.
“A Sir Jesdoril. He carried this parchment with him. He told me that it is a request for you to go to your people hiding out in the north as soon as possible,” replied the king.
The king handed the prince a folded and sealed parchment. The seal was that of an attacking owl.
Lord Minegreisel’s seal. Dareldin broke the seal and read the document. In the message, the lord explained that he was taking his men and the refugees back into Darus on the advice and vision of two child wizards. And that the lord wished for him to come north immediately.
“Back into Darus on the advice of children? Has he gone mad?” wondered Dareldin.
“Aye, that is odd,” agreed the king. “As prince regent, you will need to go there personally and find out what this is all about. These children must have some special insight to advise such a thing. I will give you horses and supplies and even an escort if you wish.”
“How long will this shielding spell last? What if it is broken? Should I not be here to let you know?” asked Dareldin.
He felt torn between his obligation to his people and his connection to Adilia.
“It could be indefinitely, but it is a hard spell to keep up and will take its toll on her eventually,” said the queen. “I am afraid that it could be months.”
“I would forsake my people and my kingdom and my crown. Just say the word, and I will search for her no matter what,” said Dareldin.
The King walked over and put a hand on the prince’s shoulder. “Go to your people. I feel confident we will find her soon. When we do, we will send a messenger to you.”
“If the spell is broken or if she lifts it, and I learn of her whereabouts, I will send a message to you immediately…and I will drop whatever I am doing and go after her,” pledged Dareldin.
❖ CHAPTER 11 ❖
IT WAS NEARING the evening of her third day of riding, and the snow-covered peeks of the Apertine Mountains were looming before her. At least the snow had stopped and the wind had died down. But the sky remained dark and overcast, refusing to clear. She needed to find some shelter for the night. Up to this point, she was lucky to find towns with inns for her to sleep. She hoped the princess had done the same, but flying with a giant monster made of bone may have made it hard for Princess Angelterra to secure a decent room. It was foolish for Jeela to think that she could catch up to such a creature. The wizard known as Nermindar had told the constable that the bone dragon might not make it to the mountains, and if it did, it would definitely not make it very far once it was over them. Without a mount, the princess would be on foot. It was then that Jeela would be able to close the gap between them once she too was on the other side of these mountains.
Just ahead, Jeela saw the outline of dozens of buildings, and maybe even a castle in the shadows of the fast-approaching evening.
There had been no one traveling on this road all day. How could there possibly be a large city hiding from her until now?
After a time, a smaller road covered in snow broke off the main trail to her left and led straight towards the city. There were only occasional deer and rabbit tracks that crossed this road which meant that the city she was approaching must be deserted. No warm and cozy inn for her tonight, but at least there was shelter and probably a place for her to make a fire…once she was sure the city was indeed abandoned.
When she reached the city’s main entrance, she found that the gates were missing. She spotted the monstrous iron gates several yards away from the entrance. Both were rusted and badly mangled and sticking up out of the snow like the skeletons of two iron beasts. Farther down the city wall, she spotted a place where a large section of the wall had been blown inward. Huge boulders that were once part of the protective wall around this city were strewn all over the city’s courtyard and embedded into the sides of buildings that had not been toppled by the force of the wall exploding inward. This ancient city had not been abandoned; it had been attacked and destroyed.
Her horse’s footfalls clopped on the stone street in the places where the snow had been blown into drifts by the wind. With a hand on her sword, Jeela worked her way through the city. She kept an eye out for a suitable place to sleep. The street opened up to another large square in what must be the center of the city. All around her the façades of the buildings were broken and smashed. Something of great force had rained down upon this place long ago.
Magic. Dark Magic.
That could be the only explanation for such devastation. And by the looks of the condition of everything, it must have happened a hundred years ago or maybe even longer. Near the empty smashed central fountain of the square, Jeela found a large iron brazier and some split wood scattered nearby. It looked like she was not the only traveler who had gleaned what shelter this distorted city could offer. It did not appear that anyone had been here for quite some time—maybe years—so she began to feel better about calling this place home for the night. A vacant shop near the brazier looked to be a good place for her and her mount to sleep. She tied her mount and began to gather the best pieces of the old wood that were scattered about in the square. When she had a sufficient supply, she arranged them in the brazier, and after brushing away some snow near the crumbled fountain, she found a pile of old leaves to use as starter material, on which to nurture her sparks.
But no matter how many times she struck the flint she could not get the leaves to spark.
“Wonderful. At this rate I shall be here till morning before I will get a fire going,” Jeela complained aloud.
Then she heard her mount snorting nervously. She froze, drew her sword, and scanned the square. It was still light enough to see most of it. Only the western side was plunged into the deep shadows of the waning evening. She focused her attention on that area, but nothing moved. And there was no sound. She stood quietly for a moment longer.
“I think we be alone, boy,” she whispered softly to her mount, while petting its nose.
Then she heard the clippety-clop of a horse’s hooves upon the stone street leading into the square, causing her to crouch low. Jeela began to work her way towards the entrance to the square to get a better look. She was going to give this newcomer a welcome he would not soon forget. The gait of the approaching horse was exceedingly slow.
It was being walked.
Jeela hid behind a broken pillar that was just wide enough to completely conceal her. She waited. Finally stepping into the light of the square was a lone figure in a hooded gray, hooded cloak, leading a dark brown horse. There was long, nearly black hair flowing out from under the hood of that cloak.
A woman.
Jeela saw no weapon either carried by this woman or her horse. Jeela stepped out into the square and barred the woman’s way.
“What is thy name?” challenged Jeela holding her sword down, but ready.
“Oh, you startled me,” said the woman in a strange hoarse voice. “I am a…a…Marelara. I am traveling north to…see my grands who live in a village on the other side of the mountains.
“It is dangerous for a woman to be traveling alone without a weapon,” said Jeela.
“I do not do well with weapons…ah….and what shall I call you?” asked Marelara.
“I am Kni…I am called…Skybriel,” said Jeela, deciding not to give too much away just yet. Her friend’s name was the first thing that had popped into her head. She wished she had thought of a better name for her disguise. “And I am traveling to…a…friend’s home over the mountains.”
Jeela was still suspicious of this woman traveling alone and unarmed, so she decided to keep a close eye on this Marelara.
“May I share your fire and shelter this night?” asked Marelara. “I am not good at finding either.”
“Ah…yes, of course,” said Jeela, as she fought back the urge to tell this woman to find her own way. Marelara seemed lost out here on the road. Jeela took a deep breath and exhaled it. It would seem she now had a new charge to look after…and not by choice. “I would invite you to my fire, but my striker and flint will not agree on creating one for me.”
The woman went to a pack hanging from her horse’s saddle, pulled out a leather pouch, and tossed it to Jeela.
“Try mine. They were a gift from my father—rest his soul—and I believe you might find them more agreeable,” said Marelara.
The knight sheathed her sword and opened the pouch. Inside she found the finest looking striker and flint that she had ever seen.
“I am sorry for thy loss,” said Jeela. “I think this just might be exactly what we need to make us a good fire. Come on, Marelara.”
Jeela went over to the brazier and started to drag it into the empty shop she intended to use as shelter. The brazier, now full of wood, was heavy. Jeela pulled it a few times, inching it toward the shop. Its metal legs screeched as they moved along the stone street. On her next pull, she found that the brazier slid a lot farther and a lot easier. Looking up Jeela saw that the seemingly helpless Marelara was being very helpful. With a lot of effort and a lot of grunting, the two women managed to move the iron brazier into the shop and under the large front window, which still had a set of working shutters, but no glass.
“The window will let it breathe and keep us from being smoked to death,” said Jeela. “Now, to put your striker and flint to the test.”
On her first try, the leaves and tiny bits of moss of her starter pile began to glow with a shower of sparks given off by the superior striker and flint. It was not long before a fairly hearty fire burned warm and bright in the brazier, both lighting and heating the shop. They had put both horses at the back of the empty shop and had given their mounts some feed from their packs. Then the two women pooled together some food to eat and wine for drink. The whole time Marelara kept her large hood pulled over her head and avoided eye contact with Jeela. Besides her long black hair, Jeela was unable to discern much of what the woman really looked like. Marelara seemed nice enough, but Jeela was not ready to let down her guard.
“Skybriel?” asked Marelara, after their food had time to settle.
Jeela stared at the fire happily popping away in the brazier for a bit before she realized that Marelara was addressing her.
“Oh…oh, yes. What is it?” replied Jeela.
“If you do not mind my forwardness in asking, how far north are you going?” asked the woman in her oddly hoarse voice.
“As far as it takes,” said Jeela. “I mean, I am not sure how far north my friend’s home is from here.”
“Would you mind very much if I journeyed with you? I am not very good out here alone,” admitted Marelara. “I feel safer with thee.”
Why was she out here alone if she did not know how to travel? Was she a refugee from the war? Was her father killed in the battle and maybe she was traveling north because she had no choice? And was this woman going to slow her down from reaching the princess?
“I am in a great hurry,” said Jeela. “But…you may stay with me for a while.”
Jeela hoped she would not regret this act of kindness.
“Thank thee, Skybriel,” said Marelara.
❖ ❖ ❖
“Could we not follow a road?” complained Jodonda, as he and Ivindset worked their way south along the sometimes treacherous snow-covered banks of the Greater Grymetian River.
Ivindset truly liked the rotund man, but Jodonda’s incessant complaining was wearing thin with the scout.
“May the Infinite Spirit give me strength,” said Ivindset. “I told you a dozen times already, that we have to stick close to the river to search for signs of Valerdwin’s canoe washing up.
“This be the fastest river in the world,” said Jodonda. “This Valergorn friend of yours is probably at sea by now—no offense.”
“It be Valerdwin,” corrected Ivindset. It seemed that Jodonda was also lousy with names. “I think this swirling current would have dumped him on the bank long before he reached the sea, my friend. So just keep looking for the canoe.”
“You mean like those?” said Jodonda, pointing toward the middle of the river.
Ivindset cast his gaze in the direction the rotund cook was pointing. There in the river were two canoes carrying two men each.
Venordaladians!
“Get down,” whispered Ivindset, and he grabbed the cook by the back of his tunic and hauled him to the ground behind some low bushes. Ivindset peered out from just above the hedge line. “I see…one Venordaladian and one Daravinian in each craft.”
“That looks like Gelfrondus and Memdaren,” said Jodonda, as the large man shielded his eyes and squinted towards the canoes.
“Well, it looks like they are coming over to this side of the river on a scouting mission,” noted Ivindset. “Let us go down to give them all a warm welcome.”
Ivindset drew his Palzintinian blade. It felt good and balanced in his hand.
This will do fine, he thought.
“You are not planning—” started Jodonda.
But Ivindset was already moving along the hedge line towards the point where he felt the canoes would touch the Rosverdar side of the river. It wasn’t long before the two canoes bumped against the bank. The two Daravinians were made to get out in the ice cold water of the river and haul the canoes, weighted down with their Venordaladian captors, up on the shore. The Venordaladians stepped out of the canoes onto dry land without getting so much as one drop of water on them.
“All right ya, Daravinian Dogs, pull these rafts up and hides ’em in the bush,” said the larger of the Venordaladians. “And be quicks about it.”
“What are you going to do now?” Jodonda asked much too loudly. The rotund man was now next to Ivindset and was huffing and puffing from his scramble along the hedge line.
“What be that?” barked the shorter Venordaladian, as they both drew their swords and stared over at the spot where he and Jodonda were hiding. “Show thyself or be gutted!”
Blast, Jodonda!
“Stay down!” Ivindset ordered Jodonda in a harsh whisper. Ivindset stood up, raised his hands, still holding his sword, and smiled.
“It be you! But ya were burned up in the forest with the others!” accused one of the Venordaladians.
“Nith, Penket, they could never kill a Daravinian scout dog like me with just a little fire,” said Ivindset, sounding as if he were glad to see them. “They brought me to this side of the river as a prisoner, but I escaped them. Have you anything to eat? They never fed me or the other prisoners, and I am half dead from starving.”
The Venordaladians, still pointing their swords at Ivindset, looked unsure what to do next. To push this charade to the limit, Ivindset walked out from the bushes, sheathed his sword, and made as if to greet the Venordaladians. The shorter Penket looked at the larger Nith for guidance. Nith shrugged and sheathed his own sword. Nith undid a pouch from his belt, opened it, and grabbed a piece of stale bread out of it. He tossed the bread to Ivindset, who took it, and began to devour it as if he were ravenous.
“See, ya Dogs, that enemy scum will starve ya, not save ya. Only we will take care of ya over here, not the Palzies or the Rosvies,” said Nith, pointing to the other Daravinians.
Ivindset took a quick glance over at Gelfrondus and Memdaren, the other two Daravinian scouts, when both Nith and Penket turned their backs to check their gear. The two scouts glared at him as if he were a traitor. Ivindset winked at them. He hoped they would understand what he was trying to do.
