Читать книгу Advent Of Darkness - Gary Caplan - Страница 6

They had stopped for another rest once during the evening, and Ragan told Gideon briefly of the nobility on Illúmaril and that he would eventually be speaking with one or more soon. He also let Gideon get a few hours of sleep before they moved on. Several hours after riding into the night, the pair found themselves nearing a small cluster of ancient trees, several of which were burned to ashen stumps. It was now close to dawn, and Gideon swayed in his saddle, drifting through a light sleep. Ragan was silent. He would not wake his sleeping comrade, for Gideon needed his rest if he was to continue. His enemies were close; he could sense them, but he could not tell where they were hiding. They had masked their presence with subtle and powerful magics, which was, in itself, a great feat; even Ragan was not able to penetrate easily without giving his own location away. Suddenly, there was a stirring in the trees. Ragan moved stealthily, as not to give away his position to someone or something that might be watching him.

"Who is there?" he cried. "Show yourself!"

His hand instinctively clasped the jeweled hilt of the enchanted long sword at his side, and he tightened his grip.

Gideon awoke like a shot from his sleep.

"I heard a noise," replied the wizard in a hushed tone, his knuckles white upon the sword hilt.

There, sitting by a gnarled old tree near the road was a chestnut-skinned young girl, her head buried in her hands, weeping. She looked up as the travelers approached and swiftly rose to meet them.

As they drew nearer, Gideon could see the tears flowing slowly down her auburn cheeks as they glistened in the pale moonlight. She appeared to be partially naked the rest of her clothed in leaves. Her hair flowed straight down to the small of her back, but what made Gideon do a double take was that her hair was a verdant shade of green.

Ragan slowed the two elaxes and stopped beside the mournful maiden.

"What's happening?" asked Gideon. "Who is she?"

"She is a dryad, a wood nymph," replied the wizard. "They are wise in matters concerning their forest lands, especially in the region of their life tree." Ragan paused to concentrate for a moment and then said a word and gestured at Gideon. He felt a strange but not unpleasant sensation. "Hail and well met, Daughter of the Trees. Why do you weep?"

The dryad wrung her hands and said, her voice filled with great loss and sorrow, "I am called Loral"—she sniffed—"a daughter of the Tree Mother, and I weep for the fallen ones."

"Explain," said Ragan with conviction. "Who has done this?"

Loral shuddered as she said, "The evil ones did this. The evil ones have come to my wood, Ragan Tree-friend. Many of my little friends warned me of this before they fell silent. The evil ones just burned them for no other reason than spite. Men do this on occasion, but this attack was not by men. It was by someone terrible. So terrible was the presence that as I felt it, I ran. I ran into my tree and prayed to the Great Tree Mother for protection. Now, they are gone, and so are my friends." With that, the dryad burst into tears again.

"Can you describe this evil person?" pressed Ragan.

Loral thought hard for a moment, trying to remember the nightmarish events.

"Black!" she cried. "It was an elf-daughter, but black as the night. She was like…a burnt…tree!" Again, she wailed.

"Was this elf-daughter alone?" pursued the wizard.

Loral shook her head violently.

"No. There were others with her. Her servants, I think. Oh, please, Ragan Tree-friend, help me! I am so frightened. If she knew I was here, I fear she would destroy my tree and…kill me!" Gideon got off his elax and walked toward her, watching her cry more tears. Ragan could see he felt sorry for her.

Gideon said, "Don't worry, Loral. We'll help protect you."

The dryad smiled appreciatively. Ragan looked around letting the Dryad finish her immediate tears, and then continued his questioning with a renewed passion. "Is she still nearby?"

"Yes," replied Loral in a frightened whisper.

Ragan clenched his teeth into a grim smile at the answer, for it struck him like a blow.

"Fear not, Loral Tree-Daughter, for I will avenge this attack. Now, return to your tree and be at peace, for Ragan Tree-Friend and kindred to the Great Tree Mother has arrived."

With that, the dryad bowed her head and walked to her tree.

Then she turned and said, "Avenge my friends, the trees, for these ones cannot avenge themselves. Farewell." With that, she merged into the tree and was gone.

"Ragan, what—" said Gideon shakily, amazed.

"Shh! be silent," whispered the wizard harshly, waving his hand to emphasize the statement. Then he perked his head up like a deer and listened to the woods.

Only the sound of crickets was heard.

"Nothing!" Ragan said finally. "They've masked their presence completely. We must wait until they make their move. I don't want to give away my presence with an active spellcasting."

"Well?" asked Gideon as he got back onto his elax. "What do we do now?"

"We go on," replied Ragan. "We cannot allow this issue to stall our journey to Tetherin."

"But what about—"started Gideon.

"The evil?" finished Ragan. "There is nothing I can do until it appears, as I said. But do not fear. I am far from defenseless." With that, the wizard prodded his elax on down the road while Gideon followed cautiously.

About a mile along, Gideon thought of some more questions to pass the time and ease the tension that was gradually increasing.

"Was that a real wood nymph?" asked Gideon still in amazement. "I've never seen one before. I mean, are they human or what?"

"No, of course they're not human!" replied Ragan with a glint of anger. "Why do humans seem to judge everything according to their kind?"

"Huh?" asked Gideon, taken aback by the words.

"Constantly comparing other creatures to oneself is really pompous and unworthy."

"Unworthy?" proclaimed Gideon in a sputter of sheer astonishment and sudden anger.

He could hardly believe this was Ragan speaking. "But you are human. How can you talk like that about your own race?"

"I am not human. I choose to look this way," countered Ragan. "I am an Eternal and member of the Order of the Taurihiri. I am more than human, more than I appear. If I were to compare myself to any race, it would most assuredly be the Alor or, as you might call them, the elves. For they know their world and their place in it. They are proud, but not vain. They know that they are helpers of the Lords of Errada. Many humans, on the other hand, think that they were put here to bend the land to their will." Ragan laughed in a biting bark of noise. "Bah, how can any race think of themselves as masters when they can't even master themselves?"

Gideon lowered his eyes in shame. This was the human race his new friend was berating, and when he thought about it, he could offer no defense. He was seeing his race as no one from Earth had ever seen it before. He was seeing it through the eyes of a nonhuman.

"Don't misunderstand me, Gideon. I do not dislike the human race. My judgment of them is that they are sometimes like arrogant, selfish, and pompous children. There will be trials, no doubt, but if humans humble themselves just a bit, I think they might have a good chance. There is more to creation than they; that is something they must learn. When they do, ahh…well, I want to be there and see it."

Ragan smiled as if to show Gideon that his words were sincere, and then he continued, "Now, as for your question about the dryad, the dryads and their sisters are incarnates of nature and powerful in their realm of influence. They work with the elves in preserving the forests and all woodland regions. I helped her because it is the way of my order to teach as well as care for others."

"I see," said Gideon. And they rode on, their eyes watching the wood line for any sign of danger.

Another fifteen minutes had passed, and they had covered about half a mile. Ragan had been mumbling incoherently to himself ever since they left the dryad's tree.

Every once in a while, the wizard would appear to hum a melody or make gestures or signs in the air with his fingers. He would then reach into a small pouch hidden on his belt and remove something from it. Gideon was beginning to think the man was crazier than he was when he remembered the dryad's words about danger nearby. Was Ragan preparing himself using some kind of sorcery for protection? He could only guess.

"Ragan?" asked Gideon finally. "What's wrong?"

"There is danger here. I can sense it," said the wizard in a whisper.

"What of the danger? Can you handle it?" asked Gideon, his heart beating loudly in his chest.

"I have been using simple spellweaves so as not to call attention to myself," stated Ragan, drawing his sword from its sheath. He handed it to Gideon.

"Here, take this. It is enchanted with certain spells that will both defend and aid you in combat. Gideon took the proffered weapon. The sword was extremely light, almost too light, with hundreds of tiny engraved symbols that seemed to glow in a pale light of their own. Gideon accepted it graciously.

The two proceeded down the road toward an area sculptured with many wild bushes and interspersed with large trees.

"I sense a presence nearby—an evil presence. We are being watched," said the wizard in a chilled voice.

As the pair passed a particularly large tree, a creature leaped out from behind it and swung a huge metal spear-ax into Ragan's elax. The blow had hit deep in the beast's neck, and it fell to the ground, spouting blood.

As Ragan fell with his mount, other similar creatures emerged from the surrounding trees. Each stood well over ten feet in height and possessed two pairs of arms. Their bodies were covered with a short, golden-yellow hair that grew long and tangled at the wrists and ankles. Their overall visage was catlike, but that was where their resemblance to felines ended. Gideon saw they looked extremely strong and lithe.

"Charachau!" shouted Ragan, rising surprisingly quickly from his still-quivering mount.

"It's an ambush! Run, Gideon! Run!"

Gideon noticed that some of the Charachau warriors quickly surrounded the Tauri while another came toward him. There were seven of the damned things, he counted hastily.

"Shit!" shouted Gideon. "We're outnumbered!"

"Run!" repeated Ragan as he began making swift gestures in the air before him. "I will attempt to hold them off for you to get away! Now, move swiftly! Fear not for me, for if I fall, I shall not fall alone!" With that, the wizard gestured in the air, and a swirling glow appeared on his hand.

"Come to me, darkspawn," shouted the wizard. "Come and taste the power of a Tauri."

The Charachau howled in a frenzy of delight and slowly closed the circle. Ragan began to glow, and from the palm of his hand, a sphere of energy shot out and impacted the closest one in front of him, knocking it to the ground and making it emit an inhuman howl of pain. A second Charachau swung its spear at the wizard, striking him hard on the shoulder. Another struck at him on the side, but the blows seemed to be deflected, as if by an invisible wall.

The wizard had apparently created some kind of invisible shield to protect himself—either that or he was much tougher than he appeared; soon, Gideon began to realize it was a bit of both. Another blow fell, this time penetrating the shield. There was a brilliant flash of light, and the wizard let out a yell of pain.

Only slightly shaken, Ragan pushed one of his attackers backward with one massive shove and rolled out of their way. The Charachau warriors saw this and jumped on him again as he maneuvered to regain his footing. Ragan seemed an incredibly durable and resourceful individual. The Charachaus' glowing weapons fell repeatedly as they tried to pulverize him, but his shield still held, though it was weakened. Gideon saw one of the weapons slice clear through a medium-sized tree after it missed Ragan.

Meanwhile, Gideon was having problems of his own. A single Charachau warrior had grabbed hold of his elax's reins as he attempted to flee and killed the animal with a spear thrust to the chest as the elax was trying to bite the Charachau. Gideon fell in a yelp of fear, dropping Ragan's sword as he hit the hard ground. The Charachau then lifted him up by his arm and hurtled him to the ground in a bone-crushing throw.

Air fled from his lungs, and he lay horribly vulnerable as he fought to catch his breath. He was injured and unarmed. The Charachau warrior then stabbed down at him with its spear-ax with almost lightning speed. Gideon rolled to avoid the blow, which struck the ground inches from his chest and flared in a blaze of dirt and electrical discharge. It zapped and sparked like one of those insect-zapping devices on a hot summer night.

What type of weapon is that thing? Gideon wondered in that instant. He had never seen such a weapon before—some sort of diabolical double-bladed spear carrying an electrical charge. If the blades do not kill you, he mused bitterly, then the accompanying shock might! His initial shock gone and his breath back, using a martial maneuver, he instinctively wrapped his legs around the pole of the spear-ax and with a sudden twist of his hips, pulled the weapon from the creature's grip. As it was leaning on the weapon, the Charachau fell off balance. In a flash, Gideon was on his feet, the creature's usurped spear-ax poised in his hand. The Charachau began to rise, snarling with unmitigated fury. Its teeth gleamed with dripping saliva in the moonlight. Not waiting for the beast to regain its full stature, Gideon, with a powerful downward thrust, slammed the weapon into its chest. The Charachau howled in agony, shaking spasmodically as the electrical charge coursed through its body; then it slumped unconsciously to the ground.

Gideon stood over the body, shaking, and he felt heaviness. He half-believed that it was not dead. A monster of such immense physical power could not die so easily. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Gideon saw some flashes. It was a blast of some kind, like several grenades exploding. He saw the swarming Charachau warriors hurtling backward in smoking ruin and Ragan rising from their midst. He was bleeding, and his clothes were partially torn, but he was quite definitely alive.

"Come," he called to Gideon in a breathless voice. "They are only stunned and may regenerate. The Charachau are tougher than most creatures and hard to kill. We must leave this place if you wish to live!"

As they began to move away from the area, a dark and shadowy form astride a black horse like creature moved from the trees to block their escape. The being was humanoid, a very beautiful female with jet-black skin. Her pure white hair hung well past the middle of her back. Accented by the white eyebrows that were furled in anger, her eyes gleamed with unusually colored violet irises. On her hands, she wore a pair of gray-brown gloves with intricate decorations that reached the length of her lower arm. Covering her tall, slim, athletic form was a black cloak, which was held together by a golden broach at her neck. On her crown sat a helm embellished with many fine metallic feathers. She was clad in a fine silvery chain-mesh armor that covered her breast and back, trailing down to her upper thighs. Her boots were black, riding high on her calves, and were equally armored. Though she was inhumanly beautiful, Gideon felt a wave of nauseating fear wash over him as he looked at her. Every nerve in his body awakened. His senses told him to run.

Ragan turned slowly to face her. He expended great personal energy in the fight to rapidly defeat the six other Charachau warriors.

"Vasha," said Ragan with anger and a hint of regret in his voice, "so it was you who set this ambush."

Vasha ignored Ragan and began muttering an incantation. However, by now, the wizard was not standing still. Grabbing Gideon by the arm, he began running in a mad dash for the cover of the trees. Before they could move very far, Vasha's spellweaving was completed, and the very ground upon which they stood began to shake. The earth around them broke open, and huge rock spears jutted violently upward to block their way. Then the grass began to writhe and change into thick vines that wrapped about their feet. Vasha laughed cruelly, as if to savor her victory, but Ragan was not yet beaten. He concentrated and then mumbled a few words. A glow appeared about his and Gideon's feet, withering the vines as they approached. Then he turned to face Vasha, who was in the process of casting yet another spell.

"Gideon! The sword. Get my sword!" cried the wizard hastily as he turned to face his enemy. Gideon ran as fast as he could toward the fallen blade and slid, picking it up. Then he ran back to help. He noticed to his horror and despair that several of the fallen Charachau were beginning to stir. It was at that moment that Vasha's spell was released.

From out of the darkness came a form darker still. A shadowy vapor emerged from her fingertips and coalesced into a nightmare. It formed a huge, hideous shadow having six swaying heads and mighty clawed hands. With a horrendous wail that reverberated throughout the forest, it leaped straight at Ragan. The wizard gestured frantically, and the result was a white-hot ring of fire that encircled the monster. It screamed, as if hurt or blinded by the sudden light, but passed through unharmed. Seeing this, Ragan reached into a small pouch on his belt and withdrew a silver-colored powder, which he scattered about him. Then he said a word of invocation and suddenly vanished.

Vasha, seeing this, called out to the wizard, "I know you are here, Ragan. You cannot escape me. If you think that by becoming ethereal and masking your scent, it will help you hide from my shadow-beast, you are gravely mistaken." She laughed harshly and then added, "The creature tracks by scent, not sight. Surrender, Tauri, for you are beaten and doomed. Oh, long have I awaited this hour, Ragan. Tonight, you shall fall and return to your father in Errada."

With that, Vasha laughed hard and cruelly, her teeth shining white against the blackness of her skin and soul.

The shadow-beast stood immobile, its heads swaying slowly, as it sniffed the air in an attempt to lock in on Ragan. This gave Ragan the necessary time to attack. Gideon watched as a large ball of white light energy appeared in the air and hurtled toward the creature as if from thin air. The sphere impacted with the beast and then was drawn inside it. For a brief instant, the creature glowed as the light coursed through its horrid blackness, dissolving it. The shadow-beast shivered and collapsed. As it fell, it faded in a terrible wail of pain. Seconds later, Ragan reappeared in the spot from whence the ball of light had come and withdrew from his pouch a small box.

"Oh no, you don't, Tauri," howled the Dark Elf. "Not this time. I will not be placed in stasis."

With a scream of fury, she raised one long glove-covered hand and pointed it at Ragan threateningly. She let out a low chuckle as multiple streams of eldritch energy shot forth from her fingers, striking Ragan down in a wave of unimaginable pain.

The box fell to the ground and rolled askew as he sank to his knees.

"And now," whispered the dark-skinned Vasha, almost as a lover, as she aimed her hand one last deadly time, her face a mask of victory, "the kill!"

Seeing Ragan fall, Gideon moved cautiously toward Vasha, sword in hand. The Valharri was so intent on destroying the wizard that she failed to notice his silent approach to her rear.

"Good-bye, Tauri," said Vasha, as once more, she let forth a burst of energy. Ragan grunted and fell to his side, writhing in agony.

Just then, Gideon lunged with the sword toward a small section of unprotected skin in Vasha's armor that he had noticed during the battle. The blow struck deep and true, causing her to screech in pain as it pierced her side. The shock of the blow caused her aim to falter, and the deadly bolts left Ragan to strike a tree. The bolts singed, split, and shattered the tree as they consumed it.

Ragan crumpled toward the ground anyway, attempting to avoid the last of the deadly energy.

Vasha spun, her crimson irises burning with rage, and glared at her assailant.

"Who dares?" she cried. Then locking her terrible eyes on Gideon, she roared, "You!"

It was a question, but it sounded like a statement. Her face became a mask of unmentionable fury. Gideon saw the awesome evil upon him, and he wanted to run, but he could not move. It was as if those horrible red eyes were piercing his soul, freezing his will to flee with his feet fixed on the ground. He realized at that moment he was doomed. He'd never felt fear like this before. Not even in the jungles of 'Nam.

He felt he would never get back to Earth. He was going to die here, and no one would know of his passing. He stood pinned to the spot by an arrow of fear or by her will as Vasha pulled the instrument of her pain from her side with a casual gesture. She then grabbed his shirt with her other hand and proceeded to lift him off the ground until he was eye level with her.

"You will pay for that, human," she spat vehemently. "Oh yes. You will pay. No one, especially an insignificant little worm like you, strikes a Valharri in such a manner without earning their wrath!"

Gideon gulped dryly. He knew he was going to die, but he could not leave this world without a fight of some kind.

He tried to kick off the horse and break her grip, but her arm seemed made of steel and wouldn't budge.

He tried a hold-breaking maneuver, but it was like trying to bend a manhole cover.

He tried punches and kicks, all to no avail. She smiled and chuckled as he struggled to release himself.

So he decided that if he was going down, he was going to try to really piss her off in a last act of defiance.

If I'm going to go down, he thought, I'm going to go down with guns blazing. Hoo-hah!

"You may kill me, Vasha," he said softly, his feet dangling, "but you will have to live with the fact that I cut you. Me, John Gideon!"

Vasha was silently staring at him, the rage steadily growing.

"Remember that when you report to your master!" he continued with a slowly growing smile. It was the resigned smile of a man who knew death was only a few heartbeats away. "Not quite as tough as you thought, huh? I guess the only way you Valharri can win any fight is when you are beating up old men or cripples." Then he added with sheer delight, "You're all a bunch of weaklings!"

If possible, Vasha's eyes glowed more fiercely or her face contorted in more anger at that moment. Gideon was still grinning as Vasha threw the sword she was holding into some nearby bushes and put that hand over his face and part of his head.

This is it! he thought. This is really it! I am going to die now!

The grip tightened, and Gideon had to close his eyes as the painful pressure increased on his skull. The method of his death finally sank in with terminal clarity. She was going to crush his head like an empty beer can! Vasha was having a slight difficulty crushing his skull, and then Gideon recalled Pyne saying the circlet would protect his head as a helm.

"Arise, my warriors," she said to the now-mobile Charachau. "Fetch the Tauri, and bring him to me. I wish to play with him a bit longer before I kill him. I will enjoy his death after I dispose of this refuse!"

Three Charachau were closing in on the slowly moving form of Ragan when Vasha returned her sadistic attentions back to Gideon.

"Now," she cooed vehemently, "where were we? Oh yes. I was slowly crushing your face."

She began squeezing harder and harder, enjoying his pain.

Gideon cursed, shouted, and kicked his feet in vain. He thought he felt his cheekbone break. The pain was overwhelming, and he could not help himself—he screamed in pain.

Then between screams, he thought he heard a noise, like the rush of many flapping wings, and he painfully opened his eyes. He tried hard not to black out as he looked through the fingers in the glove that partially covered his face. Through the fingers, he saw, far above them, the dawn had arrived, and the sky was black with many flying beasts that were hurtling down toward them.

Vasha too heard the sound and turned to greet it. When she saw what it was, she slackened her viselike grip and cried in defiant despair. She also sensed the approach of a powerful being, one who had masked its mystical signature, but as the beasts moved closer, the power behind them seemed to protrude to Vasha's enhanced mystical senses.

"The Alor have come! Curse them! There are too many elven knights on griffonback. Retreat, my warriors, for even you are no match for that many of their lances. Flee for your lives! We will regroup later!"

The Charachau were already scattering. Realizing escape was her only outlet now and her revenge would have to wait until another day, she dropped Gideon to the ground like a stone and spurred her black steed toward the trees.

On the back of each griffon was a single rider. Some of the riders had strange-looking weapons mounted on the saddle of their griffon. Gideon thought their weapons looked a bit like the shortened heavy lances the knights of his world used back during the medieval period, but they seemed to be made of crystal and some kind of black or silver metal. Other knights on griffons knocked arrows with drawn bows.

From the tip of the lead griffon rider's lance, an intense beam of white-hot energy leaped to Vasha's chest and exploded. The Valharri was hurtled from her mount as the knights fired another volley at her. The beams struck randomly; dirt and tree fragments flew in every direction. One caught her horse and blew it into dozens of bloody pieces that splattered the grass with gore. Vasha rolled and leaped back onto her feet.

"Depart, riders of the sky!" she shouted defiantly, shaking an outstretched fist. "Depart, or I will destroy you."

In reply to her challenge, an arrow twanged and exploded as it hit her shoulder. Vasha staggered from the blast but held her ground.

She was a Valharri, one of the lords of power, and it would take more than a power lance or enchanted arrows to destroy her. Slowly, she raised her hand, palm outward, and spoke a word. A fiery sphere shot from her hand and collided with one of the riders. There was a brief scream of pain as both griffon and rider plummeted toward the ground in flames. She began to generate another fiery sphere.

Meanwhile, two of the remaining Charachau warriors emerged from the cover of the trees to witness the battle, but another griffon rider's arrow was shot between them. As it struck the ground, a blue luminance engulfed the area around the arrow. The ground within the radius of the blast instantly became frost covered, frozen as if in the deepest of cold in winter. The Charachau stood motionless, rimmed with frost. Vasha struck repeatedly at the ever-growing host of riders, but their numbers were now becoming too great even for her vast powers; she also sensed a mighty presence drawing closer.

Seeing she was about to be overwhelmed, she muttered yet one final incantation and began to fade quickly as a grayish mist consumed her.

"Mark my words, Ragan, for your days are numbered!" she shouted. "When next we meet, I shall take pleasure in finishing from where I left off. We shall meet again. That is a promise of a Valharri." And with that, Vasha laughed again and dissipated into nothingness.

The battle was over, finally.

Gideon watched with personal physical relief and a disbelief at what was happening as the remaining Charachau demonspawn warriors were found and terminated by the energy lances. Slowly, he tried to rise from the ground, but he found that he hurt almost as much now as he did when his car was wrecked. He wiped the trickle of blood and debris from his eyes. The magical circlet had strangely remained on his head. He got the impression the device actually did help to protect him somewhat from Vasha's crushing grip. It was then that a tall, handsome, and more mature-looking fellow came over to him and offered his hand. Gideon accepted gladly and was pulled to his feet with ease.

"I feel terrible," he said in a mask of pain as he wiped the dirt from his clothes. As he was easily lifted, Gideon felt a tingling energy and noticed that the pain seemed to ease as if some healing force was at work. He looked at the fellow again and saw his ears were pointed and he had large tapered eyes. Whatever he was, he wasn't human. What had Vasha said? The Alor had come. The circlet Pyne Calandon had fashioned translated that to elves.

The Alor wore a silver-gray mesh armor that was covered in fine linked chain that accented the muscular curves of his body. The gloves on his hands had several strange rune symbols stitched along the upper forearm section. The cloak and mantle he wore over his armor also bore more of the strange symbols. On his head, he wore a silver circlet with three gemstones imbedded into it. On his hip, he carried a glowing wand and a rune-engraved longsword.

"You look as if you were in battle," said the elf. "But you live, which is an ending that you can well be proud of, for not many have stood against a Valharri and lived to tell tales of it later."

Gideon nodded and then remembered the wizard.

"Ragan, is he…?"

"He is alive. Taurihiri Ragan was already recovering as we arrived. This battle has cost him a fair amount of power, and he had already spent much power in masking his presence, among other things," said the elf.

"Thank you for rescuing us. My name is John. John Gideon," said Gideon, putting out his hand for a handshake.

The elf looked at his hand as if momentarily confused and then said, "What is this action, John Gideon? Do you wish me to grasp your hand? It appears to be a form of greeting."

"Yes. It's called shaking hands, and it's a custom where I come from. It's a sign of trust, greeting, and friendship," replied Gideon.

The elf smiled as he moved to shake Gideon's hand. "In that case…" he said. He took Gideon's hand and shook it. "I suppose an introduction is next in order after the shake. I am Garenthal Caylendril, a gilthondral of Calenfalas."

Gideon raised his eyebrows in thought as he remembered the instruction Ragan had given him on the nobility in this world. Then he asked, "Is that some kind of title of nobility?"

Garenthal laughed and then said, "You are not of our world, John Gideon. This I can sense in your mind. You travel with the Tauri Ragan, and he is helping you to understand our world. Anyway, in answer to your query, yes, I am a member of the nobility of Illúmaril; in fact, I am one of the highest of lords amongst the Alor."

"I'm sorry; I didn't know," said Gideon. "See, I come from a place that doesn't have much remaining nobility."

It was just at that moment that Ragan approached. He was sighing and dabbing a moist cloth to his forehead.

"Greetings, Your Grace, I hope our little problem has not inconvenienced you or delayed you too much?" said Ragan.

"Nonsense, Taurihiri Ragan," replied Garenthal with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Of course you have not. I was headed for Mindon to get supplies for my scout group when we sensed you and saw your danger. Besides, you are familiar with the well-known Alor saying, which states, 'Help a Tauri, you shall be blessed with good luck for the rest of your days.' I, of course, do not believe in superstition, but I do know that when a Tauri is in need, one should render them service." Then the elf lord grinned widely and said, "I will simply consider this a favor owed."

Ragan grimaced and then replied good-humoredly, "Agreed, Lord Garenthal. A favor it is then." Then, upon thinking for a moment, he added, "Since we are both traveling to the city of Mindon, might my ward and I might acquire passage with you?"

"Of course. I shall make the arrangements. But now, if you will excuse me, I must be tending to my troops and other tasks," and with that, he left.

"So that is an elf lord," said Gideon.

"Yes. His Grace is the equivalent of a grand duke on your Earth," replied Ragan. "It is a title he has earned and kept."

Gideon nodded in acknowledgement.

"I sensed something briefly when I was near him, and I think it may have triggered a sensation or something," stated Gideon.

"Yes. He is one of the Guardians," replied Ragan.

"Guardian?"

"Yes," replied the wizard. "I'll tell you about the Guardians at another time. Right now, you need to know that that woman is an enemy and a very powerful one at that."

"Really?" replied Gideon sarcastically. "I think my first clue that she was working with the forces of evil was when she tried to rip my face off!"

Ragan grunted in agreement at that and then said, "She has crossed deep into territory not under her people's control. She has escaped for now, but rest assured that she is still attempting to watch me and to track or scry for us. However, she will not attempt another attack on us as long as we are in the company of Lord Garenthal and his riders."

By now, many more of the griffons had landed and continued to land. The first group was part of a vanguard force. Gideon was not sure, but there were easily over a thousand, with more still arriving. These griffons seemed to Gideon like domesticated hybrids of giant eagles and lions. It seemed evident that both beast and rider needed rest from their long journey. Walking toward the encampment, Gideon noticed that Lord Garenthal was walking with another of the elves. As they passed, it seemed to Gideon that as Garenthal walked over the ground damaged by lance fire, the area began to heal. Grass sprouted and trees grew; the earth flattened even Vasha's barricade spikes; the remains of the tangling vines sank back into the regenerating crust, and it returned to how it was before.

Then, Gideon watched in horrified fascination as the slain Charachau were piled together on a tier by the knights and set aflame. He watched as the corpses sputtered and produced smoke. He noticed they buried the remains of the griffon and shrouded the remains of the fallen rider some type of runecloth and placed his remains respectfully into a rune carved container; Gideon then entered the tent that he was told was set aside for himself and Tauri Ragan and closed the flap, sinking limply into a waiting cot.