“Good morning,” Halandor said. “Lord Glorlad has breakfast for us. We will leave when we are finished.”
With their packs in hand, Makilien and Halandor walked into the dining room where Darian, Torick, and Loron had already gathered. In a moment, Lord Glorlad and Gilhir also arrived.
“With your permission I will send Gilhir with you,” Glorlad told Darian. “I believe there should be someone to represent Althilion when you speak to Lord Andron.”
Darian nodded. “We’d be glad to have him with us.”
They sat down at the table and quickly ate the meal that had been prepared for them. When they were finished, they left Lord Glorlad’s beautiful house. Outside, their horses were saddled and waiting for them.
“I pray your meeting with Lord Andron goes well,” Glorlad told Darian just before they mounted. “If you can bring peace between our two countries, then I will not delay in leading my troops to Eldor.” He paused. “But above all I have to pray that you find Sirion and he is safe. I could hardly bear to lose him too.”
“You can be assured we will do everything we can to find him and to put an end to this.”
The group mounted up and said farewell to the Elf-lord. Gilhir led the way from Silnar, back along the hidden forest path. In an hour, they reached the open plains and rode northeastward toward Beldon.
Chapter Fifteen
King of Beldon
For three days, they were surrounded by nothing but grass. In the distance, the mountains drew gradually closer and were the only indication of the miles they had traveled. The only forms of life they encountered were the birds and rabbits they would scare up. When Makilien asked where all of Beldon’s people were, Halandor explained most of the villages were farther to the east and south.
At last, as afternoon closed in around them, Darian pulled his horse to a stop. The rest of the group halted beside him. Little more than a mile ahead, Makilien spotted a city. It was fortified by an outer wall like Minarald, but was only half its size, constructed not of the silvery granite but of a dark stone. Glances were traded within the group. Makilien knew from talk amongst her friends the night before that they were concerned with what would happen when Gilhir was recognized as an Elf from Althilion.
But they rode on. After several minutes they reached the gate where only one guard stood watch. The young man was surprised to see them approach. When they halted in front of him, he looked over each of them and asked, “Who are you and what is your business here?”
“I am Prince Darian, son of King Darand of Eldor,” Darian told him. “We are here on urgent business to speak with Lord Andron.”
The guard’s brows rose over Darian’s identity. Still, he hesitated. He glanced once at Gilhir and then said with reluctance, “I am sorry, my lord, but Lord Andron has ordered that our enemy and any who are friends of theirs are not to pass through this gate.”
With firm confidence, Darian replied, “I don’t think Lord Andron was expecting me when he gave that order.”
The young guard shifted, conflict in his eyes, but before he could speak, a second man, a little older, joined him. He too wore the uniform of a soldier, though one of higher rank.
“Is there a problem, Bornil?” he asked in a kindly voice.
“This is Prince Darian, son of King Darand. He wishes to speak with Lord Andron,” Bornil explained.
The other man examined the group, and when he saw Gilhir, he immediately realized the trouble. Stepping forward, he addressed Darian. “My lord, I am Eredan. I will take you to the king.”
Bornil’s eyebrows shot up incredulously.
“I will take the blame for this,” Eredan assured him.
But Bornil wasn’t comforted. His friend would surely be disciplined, or worse. “What of you then?”
Eredan did not speak, his mind set.
Darian dismounted, and the rest of them did the same.
“Follow me, my lord,” Eredan said, and he led them all through the gate.
No one spoke as they traveled through the city. It seemed a dreary place to Makilien, reminding her a little too much of Reylaun. She felt as though not all was right here, and it made her apprehensive.
When they reached a great stone palace, Eredan called for a couple of the servants nearby to watch the horses and then led everyone up the palace steps. Pausing, he turned to Darian.
“If you will wait here, my lord, I will go in and announce your arrival.”
Darian nodded, and Eredan went inside, but in a very short time, he returned and did not look pleased.
“Lord Andron will see you,” he said.
Silently, Eredan led them inside and down a long, open hall to a large double-door, which opened into the throne room. Lord Andron sat on the throne at the far end. Straight, light brown hair fell to his shoulders. A silver crown rested on his brow above steel-blue eyes. He was barely older than Darian. Though he appeared displeased, he didn’t have the face of a cruel-hearted man, and Makilien wondered his reason for causing the Elves so much grief.
A good many men and guards were also gathered in the throne room with the king, standing at various positions. Makilien glanced at some of them and realized she and her friends received cold stares, especially Gilhir and Loron. One man in particular who stood near the throne caught her eye. He reminded her eerily of Gornath, and the way he leered at them made her shiver.
As Eredan approached Andron, the king’s scrutiny followed him, his eyes slightly narrowed. When they were near to the throne, Eredan stepped aside, and Darian halted before the king.
Lord Andron finally turned his eyes to the prince. “Lord Darian.”
“Your Majesty,” Darian replied with a bow.
All was quiet for a moment. Makilien held her breath in anticipation. Who knew what could befall them in the midst of these hostile men. Finally, Lord Andron asked, “What business do you have in Beldon, my lord?”
“My father sent me, feeling it necessary to inform you of the gravity of the situation in Eldor.”
Andron settled back in his throne but said nothing. With his silence, Darian continued.
“An attack on our country by Zirtan is very near. We are outnumbered and face defeat if we cannot gather the aid we require. If you would join us in this fight, I believe we have hope of defeating Zirtan.” After a brief pause, the prince went on, “I have also come on behalf of Lord Glorlad and the people of Althilion.”
Andron’s face contorted with disdain. “I do not wish to discuss Althilion any more than I would wish to have any of her people in my palace.” Tension and anger rose within the group as Andron finished, “I’m sure you have all the help you need from your Elven friends.”
“That is not true,” Darian replied firmly. “We are in desperate need of all help we are able to receive. Furthermore, Lord Glorlad is not free to give us his aid at this time because he fears war with you after the unprovoked attacks on his country and your refusal to discuss peace. Without their help we will not be able to stand against Zirtan. My lord, I implore you to put aside your ill-feelings toward Althilion. Lord Glorlad has ever been willing to forget the hostility that has been directed toward his people. Restore the alliance your countries once shared and take a stand with us.”
For the briefest moment they had hope as Lord Andron appeared to consider it, but then his expression hardened stubbornly.
“We will not fight alongside Althilion.”
The muscles in Darian’s jaw tightened as he stared at the king.
“If I may,” Torick said, boldly stepping forward. “We are not concerned only with our own self-preservation, but yours as well. Eldor is the only thing standing between you and Zirtan. If we are defeated, there will be nothing stopping him from marching straight down here and overtaking you as well.”
The guard who had reminded Makilien of Gornath scoffed and addressed Lord Andron. “My lord, why would Zirtan bother? We have nothing of any value to him.”
Torick glared at the man. “T
hat is where you are gravely mistaken. You have a country, you have land. Zirtan wants all of Dolennar under his power, and he will not stop until he has accomplished that. This war about to be waged in Eldor is our one and only chance of stopping him. If we fail now, he will take control of Dolennar.”
Still, Andron shook his head. “I cannot help you.”
“Will you at least make peace with Althilion so Lord Glorlad can help us?” Darian implored.
Gilhir entered the conversation then, speaking carefully and with due respect, “Your Majesty, we have no quarrel with you. We want only peace and friendship.”
Andron looked at Gilhir once, but would not hold his gaze. “No, I cannot do that.”
“Then, my lord,” Darian spoke decisively, bringing the king’s eyes back to him, “this regrettably brings an end to the alliance between Eldor and Beldon—both by your unwillingness to come to our aid as well as your unwillingness to make peace with Althilion.”
Shock colored Andron’s face, and he appeared truly regretful. In spite of this, he made no attempt to make amends.
“My companions and I will take our leave,” Darian said, “but first I must inquire after a messenger who came here from Althilion about two weeks ago. A man named Sirion, half Elf and half Beldonian. He came seeking to bring peace and has not returned home to Althilion. Do you know of whom I speak?”
Andron shifted on his throne and cast a quick glance at his guard. “No.”
“He did not come here?”
“No,” Andron answered again.
Darian narrowed his eyes a little, not believing the king’s answer to be truthful. “This man is a close friend of mine, my lord. I would hope if anyone here knew of his whereabouts you would tell me.”
“I know nothing of what happened to him,” Andron insisted.
For a long moment, Darian stood in silent frustration, knowing he had exhausted his effort to convince the stubborn young king to cooperate. Finally, he bowed curtly.
“Your Majesty.”
He and the rest of the group turned to leave, yet before they had gone far, Darian paused for a moment and turned back to Andron.
“If, by the power of Elohim, we are victorious in the coming battle, know that Eldor will offer Althilion any aid she may require for whatever reason,” he warned.
As they continued on their way out of the throne room, they heard Eredan tell Andron, “I will escort them back to the gate.”
“And then you will return here,” Andron commanded shortly.
“Yes, my lord.” Eredan sighed. Things did not bode well for him at the moment.
Outside, the group retrieved their horses and followed Eredan back to the gate. As they neared it, Torick wasn’t shy in saying, “I think he was lying to us. I think he knows exactly what happened to Sirion.”
No one replied, and Makilien wondered what they would do now that things seemed so hopeless. Once outside the city, they all turned to Darian to see what he would decide to do. Before anyone could speak, Eredan approached them.
“You are right. Lord Andron was lying to you.”
“Eredan!” Bornil cried in astonishment from his position at the gate. He looked around worriedly for anyone else who may have overheard.
“Your friend Sirion is being held at the prison,” Eredan went on unconcerned. “Lord Andron has been trying to gain information from him for an attack on Althilion.”
Eyes widened at this information, and Darian asked, “Has he been harmed?”
“He has not been treated well,” Eredan answered in regret. “Thardon, the man you saw inside, is responsible for this. Despite what you have seen, Lord Andron is a good man, but he is too concerned with wanting to be as great a king as his father. Thardon is taking advantage of that and persuading Lord Andron to do things he would never normally do, convincing him it is what his father would have done. Thardon is really the one who is driving the war against Althilion, though I do not know why.”
“Is there any way to stop him?” Darian asked.
Eredan shook his head. “No. Lord Andron and I are old friends, and I’ve tried speaking to him, but he won’t even listen to me.”
“What do you suggest we do about Sirion? We will not leave here without him.”
“There is a small gate at the southern end of the city. Meet me there after dark, and I will help you free him. Ride away from the city and stay out of sight until then.”
Darian touched Eredan gratefully on the shoulder. “Thank you.”
They mounted their horses and rode away from the city. After riding for a distance of three miles, they stopped again.
“We should be far enough now,” Darian said. “We’ll remain here until nightfall.”
They set up a small camp, but kept the horses saddled in case they had reason to leave in a hurry. Halandor and Torick built a small fire and prepared supper.
“Well, that didn’t go at all the way I had hoped,” Torick spoke for everyone. “I cannot believe Lord Andron still refuses to help us or to make peace. Somewhere inside he must know how foolish this is.”
Darian shook his head in frustration. “As Eredan said, that man Thardon seemed to have a powerful influence over him.”
“A king should not be so easily influenced.” Torick sounded harsher than usual, but the deep, drawn out sigh that followed told Makilien he wasn’t so much angry as he was worried.
She looked around at her friends. Disappointment and concern colored their faces. She too let out a sigh as she thought of Zirtan and being defeated by him. How could Lord Darand’s and Lord Elnauhir’s armies defeat such evil alone? Makilien shuddered to think of everyone she knew being killed or imprisoned by Zirtan. It was bad enough to think of being imprisoned again herself.
Torick spoke again, drawing Makilien out of her despairing thoughts. This time he was more subdued.
“I hate to think of Sirion having been in their hands for all this time. That Thardon has probably been torturing him for information.”
“He would never talk,” Halandor said with complete confidence.
Torick sighed. “All the worse for him, I’m afraid.”
“I just pray he was spared some of what he might have endured and we’ll be able to get in easily and get him out.”
“Yes. Thank Elohim for Eredan otherwise we may never have known what happened to Sirion.”
* * *
Restlessly, Eredan paced what dry area was left of his prison cell. He’d been prepared for some penalty after disobeying Andron’s orders, but he truly hadn’t expected his king to go this far. Ah, but it’s not Lord Andron. It was Thardon. Every poor decision came from his conniving.
Eredan glanced at the small barred window high above his head on the opposite side of the cell. No hint of light showed through anymore. Now rain spat in from the downpour outside. He sighed and ceased his pacing as he leaned against the bars at his back. He’d just sent Bornil to the city’s southern gate to meet Prince Darian and the others now that he was incapable of doing so himself. He hated involving his friend, especially now that Lord Andron was no longer influenced by loyalties, but Bornil was the only one Eredan could trust.
Eredan’s head bowed. Elohim, please bring Bornil, Lord Darian, and the others here safely and undetected, and show me how to remove any blame from Bornil.
His prayer came to an abrupt end when the sound of footsteps approached his cell. It seemed too soon, but he hoped it was Bornil returning with the prince. As Eredan looked eagerly down the hall, a torch appeared from around the corner. Disappointment smothered his hope when he saw the torchlight illuminating Thardon’s menacing form.
He stared hard at the man, straining against his present state of helplessness. Then he noticed more than one dark figure followed Thardon. Some were too short to be men, yet others were very much taller.
Eredan frowned as they neared, but then gasped when they were close enough for him to clearly distinguish their hideous faces. Goblins! He’d seen a goblin onl
y once before in his lifetime, when he was a boy. A rogue goblin had been killed after leaving its hiding place in the mountains to steal sheep.
The other tall, monstrous creatures he’d never laid eyes, but he had heard of them. Shaikes. Seeing the foul creatures left him with only one question—what were they doing here? They must surely be in league with Zirtan, and if Thardon was in their group, it could only mean he had an allegiance to Zirtan as well. Eredan did not find himself surprised. It was no wonder the other man continually advised Lord Andron to go to war with Althilion and encouraged him to refuse help to Eldor. Anger burned inside Eredan that the man would betray his country and associate with such evil.
“How dare you bring such foul creatures into the city!” Eredan said when Thardon reached his cell.
The sinister group paused at the door. The Shaikes growled and the goblins hissed at him, bearing their pointed teeth as their large, hateful eyes glinted. The only thing preventing them from killing him right then were the bars keeping him in his cell.
Grinning cruelly, Thardon took great pleasure in saying, “These foul creatures will soon be keeping you company . . . the last company you will ever have.”
The goblins sneered viciously and fingered their jagged swords with anticipation.
“This way,” Thardon ordered, and the group continued down the hall.
“What are you up to, Thardon?” Eredan called after him, but no answer came back, as they disappeared around another corner.
Once they were gone, Eredan searched his cell for some way of escape, but the dying torch across the hall was of little help. If only Bornil would return with Prince Darian. They were seven strong, and if they could free him, it would be eight. Besides Thardon, Eredan had counted only four Shaikes and six goblins.
Realizing he could do nothing but wait, Eredan finally gave up his search to pray. It was not long before, the sound of Thardon’s return echoed through the hall. This time their group had gained a member.