Читать книгу Advent Of Darkness - Gary Caplan - Страница 7

The next morning, Gideon awoke, feeling rested with a good eight hours' sleep. The smell of cooking food made his mouth water in anticipation. Slowly, he roused himself. He washed up and cleaned his teeth using water, some sap, and a type of brush someone had left him. He then walked stiffly into the beehive of activity that was the elven camp.

As he looked around at the process of the breaking down of the campsite, Gideon noticed a tall, handsome elven knight approaching him. His bright-green eyes flashed with wisdom, and his dark-brown hair lifted with the brisk morning breeze. He wore a silver-gray mesh mail coat, which was partially hidden by a magnificent green cloak. On his feet, he wore brown doeskin boots.

"Good morning to you, John Gideon," he said in a light and mellow tenor voice. "I am Sir Caylendril, a knight of the Platinum Griffon and kin to Lord Garenthal. I will be carrying you on my griffon when we depart. It seems that Ragan has obtained passage for you to our legion's destination, the city of Mindon."

"Good morning, Sir Caylendril," yawned Gideon, for he was not quite awake. "Great, I've never ridden a griffon before. I can hardly wait."

"Good," replied the elf. "Now, you must excuse me, for I must prepare my mount for flight since even by griffon, it will take at least two days to arrive at our main camp outside of the city. Farewell!" Gideon waved good-bye to the elven knight and then went to the mess tent for breakfast.

"It is believed by the High Council of Errada," Ragan was saying, "that John Gideon is the Chosen One, the one who will fulfill the prophecy."

Garenthal chewed on a piece of bread and nodded. They were in Garenthal's command tent, enjoying a last-minute breakfast of breads and fruits before the final flight to Mindon.

"Now, I must ask another favor of you, Your Grace," continued Ragan. "As you are a Guardian, you have wisdom and knowledge of many things beyond my Erradan lore. As it is, my young ward, John Gideon, was granted a temporary ability to speak the languages of our world with the aid of a translation spell ensorcelled into the circlet he wears on his head. He will need to be able to speak our languages fluently if he is to be able to fit into our world. Is there some way to give him a permanent mastery of our major languages? It will make his transition much easier and swifter."

Garenthal spread some butter on the bread he held and took another bite. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then leaned back in his chair and said, "Yes, there is a way. And since you make such a simple request, Ragan and he is the council's Chosen One, I will help you in this matter. There is a way to give him what you desire, and more if you so wish. However, it will have to wait until we reach my base camp facilities at Mindon."

Ragan nodded his head in the affirmative. "My thanks to you, Lord Garenthal. Oh, also, would you happen to know a very discreet alchemist and potion maker in Mindon—say, an alchemist capable of preparing the elixir known as amnoxillin? With all I have to do, I will not have the time to prepare it."

Garenthal thought for a moment as he washed down his meal with a cup of wine and replied with a smile, "Yes, I do. You should seek Senior Master Balminewe. He can be trusted with a certain amount of secrecy, and he is a skilled wizard and a master enchanter, with long years of practicing his trade. Yes, if anyone in that city can safely and discreetly make the elixir for you, it is Balminewe." Then his voice grew concerned as he continued, "I suppose that this young 'Chosen One' will need it soon since he may be quite vulnerable to the planoi, or what he would call the bacteria of this world. Someone from outside our world would be particularly susceptible to some of those planoi and could die if not properly acclimated. An incapacitated or failed Chosen One would not make the White Council happy, would it? How many champions are there now found by the Tauri? Two? Three?"

"Three others, Your Grace," replied the Tauri. "Thus, his need for the amnoxillin elixir. I have been keeping him relatively safe from the planoi with spellweaves and providing healthful drinking water." Garenthal nodded in understanding.

"You have a long road to walk before the end of these new tasks, my friend," said Garenthal, wiping his mouth with a towel. A servant came and took his plate away. "And a heavy burden to carry. Do not despair. Remember, the greatest minds and talents of this world are with you, friend Ragan. Remember that when you feel that the burden has grown too heavy."

"Thank you, Garenthal," said Ragan as he got up and headed toward the exit. "I shall remember your counsel and be comforted by it. I only hope that we shall have the strength to push on through to the end."

Soon, before midday, the griffons were prepared to leave. The encampment was taken down, and the equipment swiftly packed away. Gideon decided to go for a stroll and survey the activity on the camp breakdown while Cordlyer was making the final preparations for takeoff. As he walked, he noticed other various species of flying beasts beside the griffons, but these were few, being used primarily as equipment carriers. Then, while he stared in fascination at this aviation menagerie, Gideon noticed an attractive elf maiden readying her mount. The beast was like a cross between a unicorn and a Pegasus or, more simply, a horned horse with wings. She glanced upward in his direction, smiled, and then waved. Gideon returned in kind. The maiden then returned to her mount, strapping a saddle around its magnificent equine body.

Finding himself with nothing really to do, Gideon leaned against a tree and watched her with fascination. She was beautiful, with traits to be admired, and he decided to do just that. She had a mane of thick pale-blond hair that shone in the morning sunlight. She wore a thin, silver-gray mesh armor that was covered in leathers, which accented the lithe curvature of her body rather than hiding it. Her hands were gloved in soft, broken-in leather that bore a metallic plate sewn into the upper forearm section. But the thing that made Gideon so intrigued with her was her face; it was pale yet fair. She looked as though she had been sculpted by a master artisan, flawless and beautiful. Every feature was soft yet well-defined. Her ears, like those of all of her race, were tipped gracefully and prominent. Her eyes were pale blue, accentuating her hair modestly.

This was a woman to be pampered in the houses of lords. Yet she was packing a saddlebag like a professional warrior. She was beautiful and independent, able to think for and defend herself. The more he thought about it, the more he grew to admire and adore her. He was still mulling over the thought of introducing himself to her when he noticed that she had finished packing and was now walking gracefully toward him. For an instant, his heart leaped into his throat, such was her effect on him. He quickly calmed himself and prepared for her.

"Good morning," he said and then added, "milady." He had heard that used in an old movie once, and he thought the translated term appropriate for the occasion, for she was indeed a lady.

"Good morning to you," she replied in a clear and perfect soprano.

Gideon continued nervously, "I noticed you packing, and I was just admiring your…"

He fumbled for the right word. Perhaps the translation circlet had helped him in a way providing an acceptable pause.

"My what?" asked the elf.

"Your packing," he concluded. "It's quite efficient."

"Yes, I guess it is," replied the elf. "It allows me easy access to my things should I be in haste."

An uneasy moment passed between them, and Gideon thought desperately for something witty to charm her. But that was pointless, for she seemed to have enough charm for the both of them. Yet she had approached him. She had made the first move. "Are you a knight of the order also?" he asked finally.

"Yes," she said, smiling brightly. Her teeth were also perfect. "But I am of a different order and regiment. I am a knight of the Order of the Horn. Usually, only females are members. We normally ride the horned steeds of the sky, for they prefer bearing females. We ride the wingless unicorn type as well."

Gideon nodded in amazement at her horned steed. "Unicorns?"

"Yes, that is one of their names," she replied, smiling. Then she continued, "I was separated from my regiment in a battle far to the north, near the spine of the Imyr Mountains bordering Cymoria, and I was picked up by these brother knights of the Order of the Platinum Griffon. I shall leave their pleasant company once we reach Mindon, for there is a division of my order there."

"I am sorry to hear that we shall be parting company so soon," replied Gideon wistfully. "Anyway, allow me to introduce myself. I am John Gideon. I am traveling with a Tauri named Ragan."

"I'm Laurelin Leaflock," she replied with a merry gleam in her eye, "from the city of Eamondir in Lindorien." Gideon stared at her intently. Catching this, she asked, "What is it, John Gideon? What are you staring at?"

"You, Laurelin," he replied softly. "You are as beautiful as your name."

Laurelin blushed prettily. "Oh! Thank you, and you are handsome."

This is it, thought Gideon in a rush of elation. She seemed to like him, perhaps as much as he liked her. He decided to pursue the conversation. "Hopefully, we can meet again in Mindon before you have to rejoin your order?"

"Perhaps" was her reply, and then she asked, "Your name, John Gideon, is strange to me. What does it mean?"

"Mean? Uh…" began Gideon. He thought hard to remember. "I think it means 'gracious cleaver' or something like that. I'm really not very good with names, Laurelin."

"But that is a perfect name for a warrior!" she proclaimed. "It bears a certain appeal. That is important, you know, the naming of a person."

"Yeah, I guess," replied Gideon. Again, a still silence fell between them until Laurelin said in a shy tone of admiration, "I heard that you fought with the Valharri Vasha and actually wounded her." It was a question, but it came out like a statement.

"Well, she and I…uh…had words," said Gideon cautiously. He was not too keen on being reminded of what had transpired between the Valharri and himself. But with that statement, Gideon realized what had brought Laurelin over to him. Thinking back on it some of the forward riders would have perhaps seen him in Vasha’s grip, or perhaps Ragan had told some of the Alor. She was idolizing him as a fearless hero who had stood face-to-face with death and laughed. He could not tell her that at the time, he nearly wet himself in fear. "I did what any other decent citizen should do with a bully—stand up and fight back!" It was the truth. He hated overbearing, pompous people like Vasha, and he secretly wished that one day, he could repay her in kind.

"You may think lightly of it, John Gideon, but what you did today will live in the tomes of lore long after you pass from this world. You are a hero!"

"I'm no hero!" replied Gideon sharply.

"Untrue!" argued Laurelin. "Most heroes of lore do not think of themselves as such at the time, for fear does wonders to one's courage." Gideon stared at her. Here was a lady whom he had just met defending him against himself. "Remember this: when faced with death, few have the courage to confront it without fear. However, those who do confront it with fear and defeat it have conquered more than their foe."

He listened to her words in awe.

"You're pretty smart, Laurelin."

"I am a knight, a scout ranger, and a master of weapons. I bore witness to the death of many and have slain more enemies than I can readily recall, so I believe I am eligible to pass judgment on you. Take my word for it, John Gideon. You are a hero!" she said, tapping her forefinger on his chest to emphasize her point.

"Very well." Gideon sighed. "I'm a hero."

"Excellent!" said Laurelin. "Now, I think you need to be given a name in the old speech. Let me see…"

She paused, examining him closely.

"Aha!" she suddenly proclaimed. "I have it! From now on, your name in the tongue of my people shall be Finelen, 'the golden-haired one.' Do you like it?"

"Finelen? Is that a man's name?" Gideon asked in awkward caution.

"What?" asked Laurelin, suddenly angry. "Of course it's a male name! It is my father's name, if you must know!" Then with a huff and a pout, she curtly spun on her heels and strode back to her winged unicorn.

"Wait!" shouted Gideon after her. "I'm sorry! I didn't know; I'm…"

But she was already gone. Gideon's eyes followed her, watching her mount her unicorn and move it into preflight position. Gideon sighed lightly and walked over to Sir Caylendril's griffon. The knight was already saddled and was waiting patiently for him.

As he approached, Sir Caylendril said casually, "She is very beautiful, especially by general standards."

"Yeah." Gideon sighed again, even more depressed.

"What is wrong, my friend? Why do you look so downcast? Did the young maiden spurn your advances toward her?"

"You could say I spurned myself for her."

"You could try again later, if you think it might help," offered the knight. "Perhaps if I said something to her, I could smooth the cultural situation—"

"No," interrupted Gideon. "I've done enough damage. I do not need to drag you into this. Thank you. If I get the chance, I'll apologize to her and try to get out of the doghouse."

"Doghouse?" inquired Cordlyer.

"Forget it," was Gideon's response. "Let's get out of here."

"Soon," said the knight. "Tema tells me she too is growing impatient. She wants to fly, for she feels strong today."

"You can speak to your griffon?"

"Yes, of course," replied the elf. "All riders can communicate to some degree with their mounts. It is called bonding. It allows free movement to the griffon and better trust between the rider and mount, a valuable asset in combat."

"I agree," said Gideon.

Then, from between two other riders, Gideon saw Ragan coming swiftly toward him. He wore a gray cloak that covered his partially torn red-hued robes, and his wounds seemed to have vanished.

"I'm glad I caught you, Gideon. Is everything well?"

"Could be better, Ragan," replied Gideon. "Hey, whom are you riding with?"

"I will ride with Garenthal. He rides a larger griffon. We have a great deal to discuss on the patrol flight."

Then Ragan asked Sir Caylendril, "Are you ready?"

"I am ready, Ragan," replied the knight.

"Fine, then I shall see you both again when we get to the first stop. Farewell." And he was gone.

Then Sir Caylendril prodded his griffon into the assembly and waited. Before he launched, Gideon was afraid he would fall off, but Cordlyer showed him how to place the harness straps that were securely attached to the griffon's saddle. The beast could conceivably make a three-hundred-sixty-degree roll, and the rider would remain in place. Gideon looked more closely at the knight's griffon, Tema. She was silvery gray in color, just over five feet tall at the shoulders, and larger than a horse or the elax he had ridden before. She was feathered, except for part of the hind legs. She had large, muscular wings and an equally well-muscled chest. Her head was that of an eagle and her body that of a lion. Her front legs ended in talons while her rear legs had lionlike clawed feet. As Gideon looked around at the other griffons nearby, he noticed that they were not all identical. Some had varying degrees of feline and avian features; the strong wings were the only uniform body part.

Lord Garenthal looked at the riders around him and saw they were ready. Raising his gloved hand, he spoke. His voice rang loudly and seemed to be carried on the wind. "Knights of the Platinum Griffon, we will make for the foot of the Crystalpeak Mountains by nightfall. Our campsite is approximately fifty leagues to the northeast. We will pass other regiments of my brigades on the way. Some wings may be signaled to leave, others to join. We will fly in defensive formation the entire journey! Should any mount slacken its pace, pass the word to the vanguard and we will slow the pace! I would meet with my tactars upon our arrival! That is all! On my command, launch!"

His hand poised motionless in the air for a moment and then shot to his side.

At that instant, there was a thunderous roar as the griffons' wings flapped almost simultaneously. With several regiments going airborne, it was a spectacular sight for Gideon. Sir Caylendril signaled his griffon, and in one mighty leap, it vaulted into the air, going to its place in the vanguard of the squadron wing. Wind rushed past Gideon's ears as he looked down. Far below him now was the great forest of Valenwood; its mighty trees now resembling nothing more than mossy bushes on a great rock, with no end yet in sight. "How high will we be, Sir Knight?" asked Gideon over the rush of wind and wings.

"We will be leveling off at four thousand feet," replied Caylendril. "The maximum height of flight is nine thousand, but not many creatures fly much higher due to the lack of breathable air." Gideon noticed the atmosphere on Illúmaril was somewhat thicker than he was used to. The forest broke into sections of patchwork country and surrounding hills dotted by trees. Every now and then, when they passed over terraced fields, he could spot farmers plowing their crops. Once, he spotted a herd of unicorns galloping swiftly across a short plain. Then later, he saw a group of half-horse, half-eagle hippogriffs, which had mixed areas of feathers and hair, headed northwest. Gideon was busy soaking in all these wonderful sights when he remembered a question that had been on his mind for some time.

"Sir Caylendril," he began.

"Call me Cordlyer. We are strangers no longer."

"Okay, Cordlyer. Those Charachau we fought back there…what exactly are they? And who was that woman named Vasha?"

"Wait! One at a time. I will try to answer your questions as best I can, my friend," replied the elf. "The Charachau are a type of elite warriors that were brought to Illúmaril by Dormas in ages past. Long ago, he created the Urshkaar as his main strike force of soldiers and officers. But the Charachau are now said to be very popular as his vanguard force.

"As for Vasha…well, she is a Valharri, which in our language means 'lord of power.' As you may know from the histories, Dormas had corrupted some of the first of my people. Those who sought power through him or were seduced into being his servants became known as the darkspawn. The most powerful of these darkspawn are the Valharri. And one of that group's most powerful members is Ammaroth. Luckily, there are not many of them. I guess there are about a thousand Valharri, though not all live on this continent. Fifty high lords are said to rule these thousand. It is believed that twenty of these high lords operate on this continent. Vasha is one of the Valharri under the High Lord Ammaroth. The Valharri rule the Dark Elves and, to some degree, the Urshkaar. Before my father Garenthal sensed Ragan, we were returning from the north where another Valharri high lord, Valestran, was transferring forces to that region. He's still in the northern lands and moving forces toward Kingswood Province, but he has not yet crossed the borders."

"You seem to know a great deal about what is going on," said Gideon. As Gideon listened to the story, he realized that Cordlyer was speaking in his native Alor tongue, which was being translated by the circlet into the common tongue called Arabethic. His newfound understanding of the language that Pyne's enchanted circlet was giving him, along with his archaeological training, kept steering those translations to words and meanings more acceptable to his earthly learning.

"Well, I should," said Cordlyer. "My father, Gilthondral Garenthal, is one of the Firstborn and is one of our greatest wizards and warriors of any of the ages. You could say I am privy to quite a few things that a select group knows. In that respect, I guess, I am well-informed."

"I'll say, and I would suppose you would have to be considering who your father is," remarked Gideon. "But where do the Charachau come from? Vasha mentioned something about limbo."

"There are many discourses about that topic also, but my sources believe that they were first brought to Illúmaril by Dormas."

"Really?" was all Gideon could say. He thought for what seemed to be a seemingly simple culture, technically, the people of this world had an uncanny concept of the spiritual and mystic aspects of the universe. Concepts that would, at one time, have had one ridiculed or institutionalized on Earth seemed quite acceptable here. It appeared these people learned of other worlds or dimensions, perhaps by making contact with them or even trading with them.

It all made him want to learn more.

"See it?" said Cordlyer suddenly. "Flying across the mountain?"

"Huh?" asked Gideon, his mind was lost in his own thoughts. "See what, Cordlyer? I'm sorry, my mind was wandering."

"I said that there was a dragon flying around the cliffs of that mountain over there," replied the elf. "Do you see it? Over by the river there."

Gideon scanned the distant mountain as they passed. He saw nothing even though he had excellent vision. He strained his eyes intently. Still, he did not see the creature.

"I'm sorry. I don't see a thing," he said.

"What?" said Cordlyer, surprised. "Can't see it? Why it's as plain as the nose on my—"

Then the elf stopped his sentence and began to chuckle. "Oh," he said after a moment. "I forgot that humans have a more limited sight. The dragon is a good five leagues distant, but I see it clearly. You, on the other hand, cannot. A pity, really, for it is a beautiful beast with bright blue-red wings and a green-gray body, absolutely magnificent."

A dragon…beautiful? Or magnificent?

"I thought dragons were creatures to be feared?" asked Gideon in amazement.

"Ahh," replied Cordlyer. "Some human groups do not perceive the beauty of creatures in nature. You see them in only two varieties: those that are harmful and those that are not. Most of nature's animals are not evil by nature, the dragon being an example. They become tainted by their encounters in life, as we do. When you were a child in your mother's arms, did you know real fear?"

"No, I don't think so," said Gideon, a bit confused. He still was not sure what his point was.

"I see; I am drifting a bit, aren't I?" said Cordlyer thoughtfully. "Well, what I am trying to say is don't always judge an animal by its legends and mythic implications, but rather think of it as a person who has learned about life as we have. You see, we elves hold a different philosophy on the value of life than do many humans. Remember what I have said and you may save yourself much grief in the long run."

"I'll try to remember that," said Gideon. "Thank you."

Eventually, they came closer. Gideon was able to see the dragon flying, and he was amazed that such a thing could exist.

Cordlyer then saw the griffon regiments descend and prodded his mount to do likewise. "Hold on, we're going to land," he said.

Once on the ground, they dismounted, and Cordlyer removed some metal stakes and an expandable metal pole from his saddle pouch. He then tethered his griffon with a line attached to the metal pole sunk deep into the ground. He twisted the pole's top until it was tight.

"There, this will secure Tema, with a little room left to flap about," said Cordlyer. "See, she is happy."

The griffon stalked back and forth for a second and then sank down on her haunches and rested. Gideon carefully climbed down from the saddle and moved away from the resting griffon.

"Well, let's go and have our midday meal," said Cordlyer as he led Gideon off toward the center of the camp. The cooks had already set up and were beginning to prepare the meal. After they ate, everyone prepared to resume the journey to Mindon. The riders made two more stops that day: one to give the griffons time to rest and the other to make camp for the night.

Ragan approached Gideon from behind so as not to disturb his repast. The wizard seemed to be pondering something. "Gideon," he said thoughtfully in a low voice as he sat next to him. "I've been thinking; perhaps in order to blend in, you should appear more native to this land, and I feel that you should adopt a country and their ways. I believe Calendor has people similar to your physical build and facial features. For the time being, you could say you are from Taros. It's a huge city and is mostly populated by humans."

"Why should I want to do that?" asked Gideon.

"Many people here have been educated that there are other worlds besides their own. Most of these are educated at one of the many universities or an academy. If you go around saying you are from another world, people may become too curious or perhaps even suspicious, leading to things that might mark you in some way," said Ragan. "In addition, you have had an altercation with a Valharri, and word may pass around. Sadly, they sometimes hold grudges, especially Vasha. It would be best if you kept a low profile. One cannot be sure what words could be said that might lead the Valharri to you or to me."

"That's funny," said Gideon. "Many people of my world think the same way."

"Then I see you can understand the implications."

"Yes, I can," said Gideon. "Don't worry. I'll act just like a native…in time."

The next morning, the griffons took off at dawn, and for the first time, Gideon looked up and studied the dawn sky. This world's sun was older than Earth's and was a deeper yellow. There was a small bright object in the sky, another star that appeared to be farther away. It was greenish in color but was dimmed by the glow of the former. He made a mental note to ask the wizard more questions about the system they were in and the approximate age of the planet. If anyone would know that information, Ragan would. He seemed to have knowledge beyond what should be possessed by individuals in what appeared to be an advanced Renaissance-level civilization.

The griffon riders made good speed, traveling about one hundred leagues in a day. From what he could determine from his watch, they traveled for over fifteen hours, with three short breaks each day of their trek. From what Gideon could figure out, Illúmaril was a somewhat larger world than Earth. He would have to ask Ragan for more details on this hypothesis some other time. Throughout the next day, Gideon noticed flying ships or craft of some sort gliding through the air.

"What are those?" asked Gideon.

"They are skyships," replied the Cordlyer, who seemed to intuit that Gideon had never before seen these types of crafts. "Some are quite large and transport groups of people to our other cities. Others are part of our airborne armada and are warships. Some have the ability to travel to other dimensions."

One of the craft approaching Gideon appeared to be magnificently constructed and resembled a sailing ship with decks, portholes, and other distinctions possessed by such craft. This particular one seemed to be a pleasure model. Its passengers lounged about its deck, sunning themselves, reading books, or playing games. Some of the crew on the more-exposed decks had cords between their backs and parts of the ship, probably a lifeline of some sort to protect them from falling overboard.

Other flying vessels passed within viewing range. Each was distinct but resembled flying animals like great dragons or eagles; a few looked like ornate submarines. After a few days of flying over forested areas, farmlands, and several towns and cities, the riders finally approached Mindon. Gideon saw that the rather large city was spread out over several miles. There was a central region with what appeared to be a citadel, closer to the outer northern portion of the city. It appeared that the majority of the city was close to the river and downstream of the citadel. The large city was quite breathtaking as the griffons flew parallel and then circled for a landing a fair distance away from the city proper. Tema landed near the large tent of the camp veterinarian. Cordlyer then led her toward the tent to be examined after the long flight. After that, he told Gideon to follow him into a small grove of nearby trees.

Beyond this grove, in the distance stood a castle citadel carved of white stone. Later, as they passed through the thick stone and metal gates, they were hailed by Ragan from the other side of the open court. "Lord Cordlyer, will you be going into Mindon on leave?" asked Ragan.

"I'm certain that I will get leave time after I've attended to my duties, but I first would like some good cooking in my stomach. I will eventually need to go to the guild markets to purchase some personal supplies," replied Cordlyer. "Why do you ask, Archmaster Ragan?"

"Because even though I shall be going into the city, I have some Red Lodge business and other White Council tasks. I was hoping that you would tend to Master Gideon until I get back, keeping him out of trouble and such. When I return, perhaps we will dine together for a late supper at Palrents in the Green Griffon Inn."

"I understand, Tauri Ragan, and I can look after him for a portion of the time. Although I think I know someone he would actually enjoy spending the day with," said Cordlyer with a knowing look. "Palrents is an excellent choice, Ragan," replied the elf. "I recall you are friends with the owner. I should be able to meet you there by the seventh hour."

"Agreed," replied Ragan. "Well, let us be off, Gideon. The Gilthondral will be expecting us as I asked to be given an audience after we arrived." Then Cordlyer, Ragan, and Gideon continued walking toward the citadel.

As they continued past a guard's station, Ragan said, "John Gideon, during the audience with Gilthondral Caylendril, please mind your manners."

Gideon nodded to Ragan, and as they walked closer, Gideon looked with interest at the citadel of Mindon. He noticed that it was not exactly like the medieval castles of Earth. This fortress was huge and tiered with eight rising levels in a ringed series of inner walls.

Gideon surmised it must house at least several thousand or so people and troops. The citadel even had its own skyship docks. Along the way, he noticed there were several creature comforts, including water fountains. He even saw a series of pipes for water as they passed up to the next level of the citadel.

Gideon was getting tired as they moved upward, but he noticed that Cordlyer and Ragan seemed unaffected by the long, brisk walk, so he tried to keep up.

Along the way, Cordlyer wanted to stop and clean up in one of the officers' sections where there was food, drink, and showers with hot water. Ragan suggested that they all wash up before the audience. Later, during the passage along some outer corridor, they passed across a doorway that opened to a balcony. Sitting on the balcony was a device that appeared to be a larger version of the elemental power lances used by the griffon riders. Gideon stopped for a moment to look at the device, and Cordlyer pointed out that the large crystals ringing the firing tube collected energy of the Essence and of daylight to power the discharge of the weapons. As they walked, Gideon saw several of these devices ringing the citadel of Mindon, along its walls in protected alcoves. Eventually, they approached what appeared to be the waiting chamber. Cordlyer went to talk to one of the officers whom he evidently knew.

"We will wait here until we are received," stated Ragan. "His Grace is in conference with the lord of this citadel and castle, Falandral, the gilthanal of Mindon."

"What is a gilthanal?" asked Gideon.

"It is another rank of nobility similar to a duke from your Earth. There is another distinction I need to make, John. The majority of the nobility here earn their titles rather than just inherit them," replied Ragan.

"So there is a kind of social mobility here," replied Gideon. Cordlyer returned and sat as Gideon finished his statement.

"Yes, and I believe even most humans have such mobility," stated Cordlyer. "You are likely aware that I am a senior wing captain in the Order of the Platinum Griffon. I also have some lands that I earned the right to oversee and govern for the Grand Assembly in northern Silmir, for which I am titled sphendal. Those lands are not far from lands granted to me in Calenfalas by my father, for which I am at a similar rank. For all those lands added together, I have a noble title one rank higher than sphendal. Now, when I am doing my few months' service every other year as a senior knight officer of the Order of the Platinum Griffon, I use only the knight's appellation of 'sir'; otherwise, it is Cordlyer Caylendril, Londal of Senvil County."

At one point while they waited, a short whining sound started in an adjacent waiting room, and a brilliant light filled one of the archways in the large chamber. Two elves materialized out of the archway soon after. One seemed to acknowledge Ragan with a short bow and nod of his head in a gesture of respect. After a few hushed words with an officer, they were led into the main chamber. Gideon asked Ragan, "Where did those two come from?" Gideon thought to himself, what is going on here? People just appearing out of thin air? Then he remembered his own translocation several days earlier.

"They were transported most likely from a portal at another citadel or one of the forward fortresses or possibly a direct spell of gateway in a distant locality," stated Ragan.

"Such a direct spell would only work," interrupted Cordlyer, "if the spellcaster knew the reception gateway coordinates of this citadel and the passrunes for transference."

"Of course, Sir Caylendril, you are correct," replied Ragan. "Such security efforts are necessary with the teleport interdictions that are presently active, which keep our enemies from sending assault groups directly into our midst."

Gideon looked on as Cordlyer, who was evidently highly educated in spellweaving methods, and Ragan, who was an archmage, began discussing sorcerous theory and realized that he had a desire to understand this magic. Gideon thought of the words he was listening to and translated them into English. He was still mostly thinking in English, although he had already had a few dreams in the Arabethic common tongue.

Shortly, two of what Gideon thought of as elven officers appeared from around the corner. Ragan told Gideon that one was a captain, called a tactar, and the other a mylanate, the equivalent of a senior commander.

"Milords," said the tactar to Ragan and Cordlyer, "come with us please."

"The gilthondral will see you now," stated the mylanate.

The group then moved through a hallway past a series of large metal doors into another hallway flanked by other halls and doors.

At the far end of the main hallway were two large, intricately carved stone doors with woodland scenes featuring animals, including unicorns. The two officers then opened the doors inward and gestured for the three guests to enter a large chamber. The chamber appeared approximately one hundred feet in length with silken banners and tapestries lining the walls and pillars located about every ten feet along its length. In the center of the chamber, Gideon noticed a few elven officers sitting at a large round table.

The two officers escorting them stood before the double door, and a chamberlain at the doors cried, "Taurihiri Ragan of the Red Lodge, Sir Cordlyer Caylendril, and a Master Gideon to see His Grace, the gilthondral of Calenfalas."

Ragan and the others entered the chamber and came before the gilthondral, who had been conversing with the other distinguished elves as they approached. Gideon was not quite sure what to do, so he stood to the side and observed.

"Aaye. Nae saian luume'Ragan," said the elf in formal Manya the language of the Alor. He smiled as the Tauri archmaster approached and gripped his arm in greeting at the elbow, forearm clasping forearm.

"Aaye. Nae saian luume'Falandral," replied Ragan, then continuing in the common language Arabethic, "I see you are well. That is good. His Grace, the gilthondral, already knows my companions. However, for your sake, this is Cordlyer Caylendril, one of the many younger sons of the gilthondral. He is a londal in Calenfalas, and this is Master John Gideon, one of my wards from Taros."

Lord Falandral smiled as he nodded to each.

"However," continued Ragan, "I must hold a private council with His Grace, the gilthondral. Lord Falandral, will you excuse us for a few moments?"

"Certainly, Ragan," said Falandral. "I have matters to discuss with my officers." Then to Lord Garenthal, he asked, "Will you join me in the conference chamber when you've finished?"

The gilthondral nodded, and Falandral excused himself and left. The others, including the two who had escorted them, were going with him. Ragan and Garenthal exchanged knowing looks. Then Garenthal sat down in an ornately carved chair and motioned for Gideon to sit across from him on a similar chair. Cordlyer looked on with a puzzled expression and stood to the side as he waited for Ragan to conclude whatever business he had.

"Now, John Gideon," he said softly, "I have been requested by Ragan to transfer the knowledge of grammar and semantics of the Alor language, Manya, and Arabethic, a more common language used by many peoples. This will provide you with the ability to converse and write in our primary and secondary languages from an Alor perspective."

"Why would I need to have that level of fluency?" asked Gideon.

"This process will help you cope with things and understand what is going on," stated Ragan. "Otherwise, you will need to learn language skills in the usual fashion, and that will be time-consuming. You may also have or desire to learn many other skills. The circlet you wear will not actually grant fluency, only translation, and you may need to convey your thoughts in a more meaningful manner in the future."

"That is quite generous, sir." Gideon had a slightly confused expression yet began to relax in the comfortable chair.

"You will feel some sensation of pressure, but no pain," stated Garenthal. "Are you ready?" Gideon nodded again though he was not certain that he was. "Excellent. Then we shall begin," replied Garenthal.

Garenthal then placed one hand above Gideon's temple and the other along the back of his head. Gideon felt a soothing sensation, followed by a slight pressure to his temple. He saw images and symbols in his mind, as well as heard their associated sounds. These images formed into letters and then words. There was a voice associated with the words. He could hear it clearly. Garenthal's tenor clearly enunciated the words and phrases. Gideon saw more pictures and symbols and how one went about scribing them. He felt the presence and power of this elf's mind during the mental link as he saw glimpses of things past and realized that this elven noble was at least many hundreds of thousands of years old. He wondered how that could be. All these things occurred at fantastic speed, and before he knew it, Gideon was again looking at Garenthal. He felt slightly drained, but now, he could think clearly in the new languages.

Garenthal moved away from Gideon and said, "It is done. The transfer is complete. I hope that you will find your life here a little easier now. It would seem you still have much yet to learn."

Gideon looked down at his watch. It had taken only thirty minutes for the transfer to be completed. It was like taking language and memory cassette courses except at far far greater speed and efficiency.

"Thank you, Lord Garenthal. Thank you for the gift of language," said Gideon in fluent Manya, briefly kneeling in a respectful manner before the gilthondral. Gideon appeared pleased and liked the way the words sounded. Then he looked at Ragan and Cordlyer. "Am I speaking in Manya? Arabethic? I am speaking in Elvish! Look, Ragan, I'm speaking in Elvish, man! This is so amazing." Then to Lord Garenthal, he asked, "I get to keep this, right? It won't wear off like that circlet thing Lord Pyne gave me?"

"No, John Gideon," replied Garenthal, amused. "This is a permanent gift. As with all gifts, what you do with it from this day forward is up to you."

"Cool!" was Gideon's only reply in Manya.

Cordlyer, who had been observing from the side, then spoke up, saying, "Excuse me, Father, but after I finish a few duties at the citadel, I would like to depart for Mindon. I must purchase some personal supplies, and Ragan has offered a seat for me at Palrents for a wonderfully cooked meal in the bargain. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes," replied Garenthal. "Of course, go to Mindon. Eat, and resupply yourself. You may attend to your duties as you desire. I will see you on the morrow."

The gilthondral then looked at Ragan and said, "If you would attend our council meeting in the council chamber, we will need additional order and lodge representation." A retainer escorted Gideon to a nearby room with many books. It was not really a library; however, it was a comfortable place. He could practice his new language while Ragan attended that meeting.

A few hours later, Ragan returned from his discussion with Lord Falandral and the others. He took Gideon down to the stable area, borrowed two horses from the citadel for Gideon and himself, and prepared to leave for Mindon proper. As they were placing their saddlebags containing the essentials for the trip, Cordlyer rode up beside them, his mount a large lizardlike creature with bronze skin, powerful rear legs, and a muscular body. Gideon learned it was a craynath. Cordlyer had obtained it from a friend at the castle. The creature was quite agile for its size since they were originally bred as fighting mounts.

"Well, are you ready?" asked the knight.

"Yes," replied the archmage. "I just finished packing some essentials."

Gideon interjected in fluent Arabethic. "How far is it to Mindon from here?"

"Oh, only a few minutes trotting by horse bypassing the small woods between this ancient citadel and the main city," said Cordlyer. "Then you will see the great spires of the city close up before long."

"I can hardly wait to see them," replied Gideon.

"Let's waste no more time," said Ragan as he spurred his horse along the forest road toward Mindon. The others followed more slowly behind.