At River's End Page 2

  “No matter,” Prin replied. “I will provide you with new clothing before you leave.” Lifting both hands, Prin muttered an incantation. Swirls of yellow light appeared at the sides of the slave’s head before dissolving inside his mind. This simple charm spell would correct every flaw in the man’s speech and give the illusion that he was a member of the upper class. The spell would last for several weeks, thanks to Prin’s own magical skills.

  Turning on a heel, Prin proceeded outside to choose which ship could carry the slave to Na’zora the quickest. Ulda’s gift must not be delayed.

  Chapter 2

  From the window in his solar, King Aelryk peered out toward the sea. A ship had recently docked, and he observed with interest as a group of men disembarked. Among them were both humans and Woodland Elves, their difference in height being quite prominent. The short Woodland Elves laughed and gestured, while the taller humans made faces and clapped the elves on their backs. The camaraderie among these sailors was obvious, though this was not the case in the entirety of his kingdom.

  Relations had improved between the elves and the Na’zorans, but years ago there had been much bloodshed. For the most part, Aelryk’s treaty had kept things under control. Unfortunately, bands of elves had resisted over the years. One of their uprisings had claimed the life of Aelryk’s dear friend and loyal companion, Mi’tal. He fought bravely, of course, but he had been unarmed at the time of the attack. Aelryk sent him to talk peace, but the elves had only slaughter in mind. Many good men fell that day.

  Turning away from the window, Aelryk pictured the image of his friend’s face. How many years had it been? Ten? Twelve? The pain was still fresh. Such a senseless death for a good man. Mi’tal deserved better.

  Running his fingers through his gray hair, Aelryk pondered his many years as king. With every act, he strove to improve the lives of those under his care—both human and elf. If he had retaliated against them over his friend’s death, there would have been a second war. The ones responsible were never caught, but it won the king some sympathy from the other elven clans. Every elven uprising since then had been met by the combined resistance of both humans and elves. Perhaps Mi’tal’s death had accomplished something after all.

  With a sigh, Aelryk sat heavily upon his high-back chair. His black satin tunic had become too tight, as well as his woolen leggings. Age had slowed him down and added to his girth, reducing him to the single role of a political leader. Rykon, Aelryk’s only son, had taken over the training and supervision of Na’zora’s army, leaving Aelryk with far less physical activity and too much time to eat. He could still swing a mighty sword, but battle was best left to younger men. Rykon had done an excellent job as a military leader, commanding both human and elven soldiers. Aelryk took pride as a father, knowing he had taught his son well.

  A rapid knock on the door snapped the king back into the moment. Prince Rykon stepped inside, still dressed in his finest burgundy doublet. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and eyes—the image of his father in his younger years. The prince was more than old enough to take the throne, and even had a grown son of his own. Aelryk, however, had not seen the need to step aside. Presiding over his kingdom was a lifetime commitment.

  “Good morning, Father,” Rykon said as he approached. With a slight bow, he took a seat on the opposite side of the king’s desk. Placing a rolled bit of parchment on the desk, he said, “We’ve secured trade agreements with the Sunswept Isles.”

  “Well done,” Aelryk replied with a smile. Rykon excelled at diplomacy, much more so than his father. The prince was well liked among the neighboring kingdoms, but his ability to conduct business with the Enlightened Elves exceeded all expectations. They were an arrogant race, one not given to trusting humans. Few kingdoms ever managed to have their voices heard among them. Now, Na’zora had secured trade with the wealthy islanders, thanks to Prince Rykon.

  “The Grand Council’s only stipulation was that they would deal with me directly. No other emissary or appointed officer will be allowed to have dialogue with them. They were quite clear on that point.”

  “That might be difficult after you ascend the throne,” Aelryk pointed out.

  Rykon waved his hand dismissively. “They will send someone here to stand before me should I ever become too busy to answer their letters.” He paused for a moment, then added, “All will be well.”

  “Will any of their representatives be visiting Na’zora?” Aelryk asked. For a time, there had been talk of establishing a small estate where the elves could stay during business transactions. Naturally they would want to oversee every aspect in fine detail. They were a demanding people.

  “I forgot to mention,” Rykon said with a grin. “There will be some elves staying awhile in the palace. They plan to construct new living quarters near the Mage’s College—at their own expense.”

  Aelryk’s jaw dropped open in shock. The Enlightened Elves charged a great deal of gold for their services at the College. “Why would they be willing to pay for it themselves?” he wondered. “Normally they would send me a long list of their needs and insist I see to it at once.”

  “Normally,” the prince replied. “This time they want to ensure things are done exactly as they wish. I suppose they hoped to avoid any chance of things not being right the first time.” Na’zoran construction was never up to their standards. If they couldn’t find something to complain about, they would be forced to admit that humans had done something worthy of their approval. That simply wasn’t an option.

  “This means they’re willing to expand the College with us then,” Aelryk said. In years past, Aelryk’s father, King Domren, had employed the Enlightened Elves to train human mages for battle. After Aelryk took the throne, he expanded the College to studies of a far greater range. Na’zoran mages now assisted in a variety of activities, including medicine, carpentry, weapons crafting, farming, and even cooking. Scholarships were available to students from all walks of life, as long as they showed a talent for the craft. Though mages still accounted for only a small percentage of Na’zora’s population, they were a well-trained and highly respected group.

  “The elves are aware that we’ve been hiring humans to teach magic. They find it alarming.” Rykon laughed quietly and shook his head. “They want to send more elven teachers to us at a reduced rate. It’s a generosity, or so they say.”

  Aelryk smirked. “They just can’t believe humans could ever be so good at magic.”

  “They’ll always see themselves as superior,” Rykon replied. “It’s in their blood.”

  “Nevertheless, you have done what I could not,” the king admitted. “I am proud of you, Son. Let’s call for some wine and raise a glass to a job well done.”

  With a gesture of his hand, Rykon summoned the servant who had been standing idly in the corner. “Wine and two goblets,” he commanded. With a bow, the servant rushed from the room.

  “Your mother will be pleased as well,” Aelryk said. “The island jewelers are some of the finest in the world, I hear.”

  The servant returned bearing a tray containing the wine and a curious golden box.

  “What is this?” Rykon asked, wrinkling his brow. He plucked the small item from the tray and turned it over in his hand.

  “It is a gift for the king, Your Highness. It was delivered only moments ago.” The servant poured the wine and backed away, resuming his at-the-ready stance near the window.

  Rykon passed the golden box to his father, who observed it closely. “The decorations are beautiful,” the king commented. “Who sent it?”

  “The page who gave it to me says it came from Duke Lumbry, Your Majesty,” the servant replied.

  “He’s a man of great wealth,” Aelryk stated. “This is a most precious gift.” As he pressed his thumb to the latch, the box sprung open, revealing a small piece of reflective glass inside. It appeared to be no more than a worthless shard, and it puzzled the king that such an ornately finished box would contain such a
mundane item.

  Rykon appeared confused as well. “Could it be an uncut gem?” he wondered. “Perhaps it needs to be shaped and polished.”

  “I’ve no idea,” the king replied. Aelryk touched his finger to the reflective glass, and a burst of white light immediately encompassed his form. For a moment, his breath was stolen away, and every muscle in his body clenched.

  Rykon jumped to his feet. “The king has been attacked!” he shouted.

  The servant ran from the room to fetch help, his boots echoing throughout the marble corridor.

  Rushing to his father’s side, Rykon knelt next to him. “Father,” he said, his eyes wide. “Can you hear me?”

  Aelryk sat motionless for a moment longer before turning his head slowly to face his son. His dark eyes seemed distant, almost as if he had witnessed some terrible event. Only the sound of a labored breath escaped his lips before he slumped forward, dropping the mirrored shard.

  Rykon kicked the item aside, not wanting to touch it himself. Some enchantment was at work here, of that he was certain. The servant returned with a dozen guards and Queen Lisalla, who had been alerted by the commotion.

  “What’s happened?” she cried as she ran to her husband’s side. She placed her hands on each side of his face, and said, “Aelryk, my love, please wake up!”

  The king showed no sign of movement. Rykon placed an ear near his father’s heart. “He’s alive,” he declared. “We must get him to his room and call for the healers.”

  The guards moved in and lifted the king among them, gently carrying their stricken sovereign as he lay motionless in their arms.

  “Who could have done this?” Lisalla asked, tears spilling from her eyes.

  “The servant said it was Duke Lumbry who sent this gift,” Rykon replied, pointing to the golden box. Lisalla reached out for it, but her son stopped her. “You mustn’t lay hands on it,” he said. “It bears some evil curse.”

  “We must send riders at once to arrest Duke Lumbry,” Lisalla said.

  “Leave the matter to me,” the prince replied. He would send riders to bring the duke to court for questioning, but at the back of his mind, he knew there was something more at work here. The duke was an elderly man who had stood next to the king in battle many times. The two had been good friends, and Rykon could not imagine either harming the other. Approaching the servant who had delivered the box, he asked, “Who was the man who claimed to serve Duke Lumbry?”

  “Just a servant, Your Highness,” the young man replied. His face was reddened, and he had obviously been shaken by the event.

  “What did he look like? How did he speak?”

  “Brown hair,” the servant replied. “About my height.” Looking at the ground, he could think of nothing else to say. The servant had been unremarkable and no different from anyone else he might encounter working for a nobleman. Feeling embarrassed by his inability to help, the servant could do nothing more than weep. “Will the king recover?” he asked.

  “I can’t say,” Rykon replied. His eyes wandered to the piece of glass laying on the floor. “Summon a Master from the Mage’s College,” he commanded. If this item was of magical design, a Master wizard would be able to tell. “And see that guards are posted at the door. I don’t want anyone coming in or out of this room unless accompanied by myself.”

  As the servant rushed off to obey, Rykon made his way along the marble corridor to the wide staircase. He ascended slowly, dreading what news he might receive when he reached his father’s room. This is no fitting end for a king, he thought. My father must survive.

  Several tapestries adorned the walls along the hallway on the palace’s second floor. They depicted various scenes of King Aelryk’s life, including his first peace treaty with the Wild Elves, or Woodland Elves, as they had come to be called. Rykon looked at each of them as he passed, each footstep falling heavier than the last. Finally he reached the door and stepped inside.

  Lisalla looked up, her eyes full of tears. “He lives, but he is in pain,” she said through sobs.

  Two attendants stood on either side of the king. One wore the traditional black robe of a physicker, the other wore the white robe of a healing mage. Both men were examining the king.

  “What is your diagnosis?” Rykon asked.

  “This is of magical design,” the man in white said. “I’m certain of it.”

  “I have never seen such an illness,” the physicker admitted. “I will do what I can to treat his symptoms.”

  “Work together,” the prince demanded. “Do whatever is necessary to preserve his life.” Rykon approached his father and looked down upon his sleeping form. His eyes were closed, but his face was twisted as if he were in agony. “Do something to ease his pain,” he commanded.

  As the prince turned away, another change caught his eye. For many years, his father had worn a sapphire ring upon his left forefinger. The stone had been gifted to him by a powerful elf, River of the Vale. He possessed the powers of a water elemental, and he had been of great service to his father in the past. Though the two had not seen each other for many years, King Aelryk considered River among his closest friends.

  As Rykon looked closely at the stone, he noticed that its color had changed. Instead of a sparkling ocean blue, it was now a drab gray. Rykon lifted the king’s hand, turning the ring for his mother to see. “When did this happen?” he asked.

  Dabbing a handkerchief to her eyes, Lisalla said, “It was blue this morning. I’m sure of it.”

  Rykon briefly remembered seeing the ring when he delivered the trade agreement to his father only an hour ago. The blue stone had shone brightly as always. Could the magic that affected the king’s health also have had an effect on this ring? “Is this ring imbued with magical abilities?” he asked. He knew that his father wore it always, but he did not know its significance other than it had been a gift from River.

  “He said he could use it to contact River, the Westerling Elf, should he ever need his assistance,” the queen replied. “I don’t believe your father has ever done so.”

  “We must use it now,” Rykon decided. Perhaps there was a chance the elf would know how to cure the king.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know how,” the queen replied, looking down at her husband.

  Rykon wiggled the ring until it came loose from his father’s hand. Tucking it safely into his breast pocket, he said, “A representative from the College is on his way. We will figure out how to use it.”

  Striding to the door, a million thoughts swirled through Rykon’s mind. Who was really responsible for this attack? Would River be able to determine it? If the attack left a magical imprint on the ring, perhaps it would be enough information for the elf to discover the truth. There was a much bigger agenda behind this attack, the prince was certain of it. Glancing back at the unconscious form of his father, he clenched his jaw and drew in a deep breath. Whoever had done this would pay.

  Chapter 3

  Afternoon sunlight filtered its way through the green leaf canopy of the Vale. River and Lenora strolled arm in arm along the bank of the Blue River, enjoying the permanent springtime weather of their forest home. A single robin heralded their passing as it fluttered its wings and bounced from branch to branch. Yellow butterflies flitted about, one landing upon Lenora’s shoulder.

  Smiling, Lenora held out her hand for the tiny creature to climb aboard. It stepped onto her finger and fanned its wings a few times before heading off into the wild. The fragrance of honeysuckle was thick in the air, and the tiny insect could no longer resist the temptation to sample the nectar.

  For nearly ten minutes the couple walked in silence. Throughout their eight-hundred years of marriage, they found it was almost as easy to communicate through silence as it was through speech. As they approached a metal bench wrought with silver leafing, River gestured for his life mate to sit. She obeyed, taking her seat and looking out over the crystalline water. Sunlight danced upon the ripples as the water flowed past, working its w
ay to the sea.

  River retrieved a single white flower that had broken loose from the tree above and placed it behind Lenora’s ear. Gently he brushed her golden hair as it danced softly upon the wind. He took a seat next to her and rested his head against her shoulder.

  Lenora casually rubbed a hand against the skirt of her white dress. “Your daughter was out exploring again,” she said. “This time she was an hour from the village before Rogin found her.”

  River sat up and asked, “When did this happen?”

  “While you were meeting with the Elder Council,” she replied. Shaking her head, she added, “Alyra has too much adventure in her spirit.”

  River smiled and looked out into the woods. “What harm is there in a little adventure?”

  “She’s too young,” Lenora stated. “When she’s of age, she can venture where she pleases.”

  “I seem to remember a young elf with golden hair and pale eyes who liked to sneak away to visit the dryads,” River said, his tone playful.

  “I was older than she is now,” Lenora argued, crossing her arms. A smile crept over her face, though she tried to hide it. “It was one of the dryads who told Rogin where to find her.”

  River laughed. “Then why so much concern? She was safe under the watchful eye of your sisters.” Though Lenora herself was not a dryad, she had spent many years of her youth living among them and learning their healing arts. At over eighteen-hundred years of age, she still remained close to her adopted sisters.

  “She’s so young, River,” she said. “I’m not ready for her to strike out on her own.”

  “No worries there,” he replied. “She won’t come of age for over a hundred and fifty more years.” He turned his attention back to the waters of the Blue River.

  “With her always running off, it feels like she’s much older,” Lenora said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

  “Children grow up,” River said. “That’s what they’re supposed to do.” The couple had raised seven children in total, with Alyra being the youngest.