The world, which had seemed to be going in slow motion, suddenly sped up again as the silence that settled over camp was broken.
“Loron!” Halandor exclaimed, both with surprise and gladness.
The Elf reached the fire in only another couple of strides, and by this time, Halandor had turned his attention to an injured Makilien.
“Let me see your arm,” he said as he knelt next to her.
Makilien had forgotten the pain and sensation of oozing blood when she’d seen the Elf, but as she lifted her arm, the pain returned. She grimaced. Carefully, Halandor rolled up her sleeve revealing the bleeding wounds caused by the wolf’s teeth. He reached for his pack and pulled out a clean cloth. Makilien groaned as he pressed it down on her wounds.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I want to stop the bleeding.”
Makilien nodded, understanding. Looking over his shoulder, Halandor asked, “Torick, would you heat some water?”
Torick emptied one of their waterskins into a pot to heat by the fire. As soon as it was warm enough, he set it down next to Halandor who used it to clean the wounds. Once this was accomplished, he wrapped a clean bandage around Makilien’s arm.
“There,” he said. “The wounds should heal quickly. They are not serious.”
Makilien was relieved. The last thing she wanted was an injury that would inhibit her from her training with Halandor.
Helping her up, Halandor said, “Now, I think it’s about time for formal introductions. Makilien, this is our good friend, Loron.” He gestured to the Elf, and Makilien turned to him with a smile. “Loron, this is Makilien. She is from Reylaun. We met in Andin.”
“I am very pleased to meet you, Makilien,” Loron said kindly.
“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Loron.”
He smiled at her, and the four companions took seats by the fire. Poking at the embers with a stick, Torick glanced at Loron and asked, “What are you doing out here? I thought you were back in Elimar.”
“I came out looking for you and Halandor. Lord Elnauhir and I thought you might need help,” Loron answered.
“Well, you showed up just in the nick of time, as usual.”
Loron chuckled and raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Elohim must have gifted me with the ability to sense whenever my friends are in danger.”
Torick too chuckled, and then Loron told him and Halandor, “I also came out with news. It’s been confirmed that Zirtan has put a man in charge of his force—a general by the name of Zendon. Zirtan has given him command of all his armies, and Zendon is the one who will lead the attack.”
“That could be a move in our favor,” Halandor remarked. “I know many were concerned about coming up against Zirtan face-to-face.”
Loron agreed.
“Did you learn how soon he’ll attack?” Halandor asked.
“No, what about you?”
Halandor shook his head. “No. We know he’s still at his fortress in the North and seems still to be gathering his armies so that gives us at least a couple of weeks yet.”
“Any extra amount of time will help us,” Loron said.
Halandor and Torick were in agreement.
Makilien listened quietly. She seemed almost forgotten amidst the talk of such serious issues, but when a yawn escaped her, Halandor noticed.
“You should get some rest,” he told her.
“Are you sure?” Makilien asked. “Do you think the wolves will be back?”
“No, they won’t return without greater numbers, and they can’t gather them tonight. Go to sleep.”
The softness of Halandor’s voice gave Makilien great comfort. He reminded her of her father when he used to put her to bed at night. Makilien was glad to have someone like him with her during this incredible, yet uncertain time.
“All right,” she said with a small smile, for she was indeed very tired.
Wrapping her blanket around herself like a snug cocoon, Makilien lay down and closed her eyes. The crackling of the fire and the familiar sounds of Halandor and Torick’s deep voices and the new, almost musical, flow of Loron’s, put her to sleep within minutes.
* * *
The cheery calls of early rising birds echoed in the forest rousing Makilien from slumber. She stretched in her warm blanket and felt the weariness of the late night still in her muscles, but her mind was rested. Though her arm throbbed with a dull ache, it was not as painful as she might have expected. Around the fire, Halandor, Torick, and Loron spoke in quiet voices, and she smelled breakfast.
Rubbing her eyes, Makilien sat up. The entire forest stood shrouded in sparkling, silver mist making the trees appear as dark pillars rising in the fog. Around their camp lay the dark, lifeless bodies of the fallen wolves.
“Good morning.”
Makilien turned to Halandor with a smile.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
“How is your arm?”
“It aches a little,” Makilien admitted.
Halandor reached for a cup, which sat by the fire, and handed it to her. “Drink this. It will help the pain.”
Makilien sipped the slightly bitter herbal liquid and returned the cup to Halandor as she stood. The cool mist that had gathered on her skin made her shiver momentarily, but it felt good. The sun glowed through the trees now and created glittering shafts of light. It gave a mysterious beauty to the misty forest.
After stretching her tired muscles, Makilien walked over to the horses and rubbed Antiro on the nose.
“Good morning, Antiro.”
The horse nickered and nibbled her sleeve playfully. Makilien smiled. Antiro looked much better than when they’d found him. Makilien kept him well groomed, and his wounds were healing well.
“Makilien, I do believe that horse can understand you,” Torick said suddenly.
“Really?” Makilien asked in surprise.
Torick nodded. “He seems to listen when we’re talking and reacts to the things you say to him.”
Makilien looked into Antiro’s face. “Can you understand me?”
Antiro nickered again and tossed his head.
“But how could an animal understand?”
“Occasionally, Elohim gifts certain common animals with the ability,” Torick explained. “I would consider it a gift to you too.”
Makilien glanced at him. Reluctance always sprang up in her heart whenever Elohim was mentioned. Halandor and Torick trusted and relied on Him so greatly. Their faith was admirable, but Makilien doubted she could have the same faith. She just didn’t think she could let go of the need to rely on herself and her friends—things she could see and know to be real. And so she said nothing.
In a short time, the travelers ate their breakfast and went on their way while early morning was still upon them. The weather was ideal for travel. Bright rays from the sun streamed through the trees, burning off the fog and warming Makilien and her friends. Just off to the right of the road, the river bubbled and gurgled, slowly leading the way south as the foursome and their equine companions traveled along the well-worn path.
When midday arrived, Makilien felt the twinge of hunger in her stomach, and soon Halandor brought the group to a halt.
“We’ll stop here for lunch and pick some jents,” he said.
Curiously, Makilien followed his line of sight, and her gaze landed on the smooth gray bark and dark foliage of a tall tree growing beside the road. Her eyes traveled up to the branches. Growing among them were fruits unlike any she’d seen before. They were round, about the size of her palm, and had skins the color of pale blue like the sky. The breeze carried the sweet scent of the lighter blue blossoms, which still grew on the tree.
“I’ve never seen any fruit like this,” Makilien said.
Halandor looked at her. “You haven’t?”
Makilien shook her head. “No. I’ve only ever had fruit that was grown in Reylaun. What are they like?”
“They are very sweet and also have st
rong healing properties. They are used in many medicines.”
Walking up to the tree, Halandor reached to pick one from a high up branch. He handed it to Makilien who found it had a velvety skin like peach. Curiously, she took a bite revealing the pale yellow flesh inside. Her eyes widened in delight. Never before had she tasted something so sweet. It tasted much like a plum, yet sweeter and without any of the tartness.
“Mmm, it’s delicious.”
Her companions smiled and picked some for themselves. Each of them ate their fill, and Makilien and Torick fed some to their horses. When they were finished, they packed a few extra jents into their packs for the remainder of their journey.
As they prepared to be on their way, Makilien turned questioningly to Halandor. “Could I ride Antiro? I’ve never been on a horse before, but I’ve wanted to ride all my life. Do you think he’s healed enough and would let me?”
“I don’t see why not,” Halandor answered. “Why don’t you ask him?”
Makilien turned to Antiro. “Do you mind if I ride you?”
Antiro shook his head making his long black mane ripple. Makilien smiled. “I guess you don’t.”
They tied the free end of the rope to Antiro’s makeshift halter creating reins, and Halandor helped Makilien onto the horse’s back. As she settled into place, she grinned, knowing immediately she would love it.
“Are you ready?” Halandor asked.
Makilien nodded. Halandor, Torick, and Loron walked on. Even though she’d never ridden a horse before, Makilien understood the basics. She squeezed her legs against Antiro’s sides, and he started off at a smooth walk to follow the others. Makilien’s smile could not be erased from her face at the joy of experiencing something she’d dreamed of for so long. Her friends smiled too at her bliss.
“When we reach Elimar, someone there can teach you more about riding,” Loron told Makilien.
Eager to learn, Makilien asked, “How much farther do we have to go?”
“We’ll arrive sometime around noon the day after tomorrow,” Halandor answered.
“What plans do you have once we get there?”
“I plan to stay a few days to rest and then go on to Minarald.”
Makilien wasn’t sure whether he intended for her to go along or not. She disliked the thought of being left behind. Halandor had become like a second father to her, and she didn’t want to have to say goodbye to anyone again so soon after leaving her family.
“May I come to Minarald with you?”
“If you want to,” Halandor told her, though he warned, “Minarald will not be a safe place once Zirtan attacks.”
But Makilien told herself she wasn’t afraid. She wanted to do anything she could to fight Zirtan. “I would like to help, if I can.”
Chapter Nine
Elven City
Makilien was still in awe of the sight that surrounded her. The day before, the trees of Eldinorieth had come to an end, giving way to beautiful rolling hills as far as she could see. Lush, knee-high grass covered the hills dotted with sprinklings of spring flowers. As much as Makilien enjoyed the forest, she was delighted by this change of scenery.
The sun had just passed its peak when she noticed part of the road branch off to the east. Instead of continuing to the south, her companions took this turn, coming to the edge of the river they’d followed all the way through Eldinorieth. Just across it lay a wondrous sight beyond anything Makilien had imagined. Amidst a wooded area stood the breathtaking Elven buildings she had waited so anxiously to see. The structures were constructed unlike any she’d witnessed in the past. The architecture was elegant and natural, blending well with the trees.
The travelers crossed the shallow part of the river with ease. When they arrived on the other side and entered the stunning city, it was as if Makilien were entering a dream. She could only stare in silent wonder.
Most of the structures were painted a creamy white with slate-blue shingles, and the winding streets were more just paths, carpeted with softly fallen leaves, which muffled their footsteps. The ground rose and fell along the way, matching the open, hilly terrain they’d just come from. Birds sang cheerful melodies from the towering maples and oaks surrounding them. Joining in was the gurgling of clear streams, which branched off the main river. Growing on the moist banks were bright yellow buttercups, but those weren’t the only flowers. There were splashes of flowers everywhere, alive with butterflies.
Before long, they arrived at the biggest house Makilien had ever seen. At least as big as any four buildings in Reylaun combined.
“This is Lord Elnauhir’s house,” Halandor told Makilien. “All visitors to Elimar are welcome here.”
After tying the horses to a hitching post, they walked up to the tall doors of the entrance. Without waiting, Halandor opened the door with familiar ease and walked in unannounced. They entered a spacious, marble-floored foyer whose ceiling rose up at least twenty feet, supported by beautifully carved pillars. Directly ahead stood a massive staircase leading to a second floor, and all around them were doorways to all the numerous rooms of the grand house. All was quiet, except for the sounds of birds through the open windows, which let in ample amounts of sunlight with no need for lamps during the daytime.
“It’s good to be back,” Torick said with quiet contentment.
Halandor agreed and shrugged off his pack. Everyone else did the same, setting them in a pile near the door. Makilien almost felt it a shame to spoil the look of such a beautiful and spotless area, but no one else seemed to mind. They obviously felt right at home.
“I wonder where everyone is,” Halandor said as he looked around.
“They could be any number of places, and I’m not about to search the whole house. I’m going to do it the easy way,” Torick replied. He raised his voice and called out, “Is anyone here?”
They waited for the space of a half a minute. Suddenly, Makilien heard a voice before she heard any footsteps.
“Loron, you found them! And they’re alive!”
Looking to her left, Makilien saw a male Elf entering the foyer. He appeared to be a bit younger than Loron and had long, dark hair instead of blonde.
Torick rolled his eyes at the Elf’s comment.
“Hello, Elmorhirian,” Halandor said with a smile.
“I’m very glad to see you made it back all in one piece,” Elmorhirian told them with a grin.
“You doubted?” Torick asked less humorously.
Elmorhirian smirked mischievously, but before he could comment, he noticed Makilien. “Who is our lovely guest?”
Makilien smiled, and Halandor said, “This is Makilien. She came from Reylaun.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Elmorhirian said graciously, “and an honor to have you here. I am Elmorhirian, son of Lord Elnauhir.”
“I am very pleased to meet you, Elmorhirian.” Makilien liked this Elf already. Though he seemed to annoy Torick, she found him amusing.
“Elmorhirian, where is your father and the rest of the family?” Halandor asked.
“I believe Father is in his study. Elandir and I just came in so I don’t know where Mother or Vonawyn are. I’ll go find them.”
“We’ll be in the living room,” Halandor told him.
Elmorhirian hurried off, and Halandor led everyone else down a long hall and finally into another, larger room. This one was filled with many stuffed couches and chairs. At one end stood a huge fireplace with a beautifully carved mantel. On either side were massive bookcases filled with leather-bound books.
Weary from the long journey, everyone took seats, enjoying the comfort after so many days on the trail. Sitting beside Halandor, Makilien said, “You all seem so comfortable here. Do you come often?”
“This is our home when we are not traveling,” Halandor answered.
“Oh. I didn’t realize that.”
“Yes, I’ve spent most of my life here. Loron also.”
The four of them only had a few minutes to wait before El
morhirian returned with an older and very wise looking male Elf. He too had dark hair, and the regality about him left Makilien in no doubt he was Lord Elnauhir.
“Welcome back,” he told Halandor and Torick in a rich, kingly voice. “Do you bring any news?”
Halandor shook his head. “We weren’t able to gather any specific information, but Zirtan still seems to be seeing to his preparations.”
Elnauhir appeared pleased by this. “Good.” His attention now turned to Makilien. She felt shy and rather lowly before the Elf-lord, but his gaze was kind, and Makilien relaxed. “Elmorhirian told me we had a special guest. What is your name?”
“Makilien.”
“I am Elnauhir, lord of this city, and I hope you will feel welcome here in Elimar.”
“Thank you, Lord Elnauhir. I do feel welcome already.”
“Good.” Elnauhir smiled. “How did you come to be here, Makilien?”
Briefly, she told him of her escape from Reylaun and meeting Halandor in Andin.
When she had finished, the Elf-lord said, “I commend your bravery for leaving on your own even though you did not know what you would find.”
Makilien shrugged. “I just wanted things to change so badly, and, after I talked to Torick, I knew I couldn’t stay in Reylaun. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to leave alone. My best friend, Aedan, wanted to come, but he’s the only man in his family and has to care for them.”
“Well, I’m very glad you made it here safely,” Elnauhir told her with deep sincerity.
In the next moment, three other Elves stepped into the room to join them—the other members of Elnauhir’s family. The one Makilien believed to be Elnauhir’s wife was a lovely Elf woman with long, golden colored hair. The dignity of her appearance spoke of wisdom and maturity, yet she had a youthfulness about her. The second Elf Makilien guessed to be another of Elnauhir’s sons. He had golden hair like his mother and seemed a little older and more mature than Elmorhirian, but still had the same impish look in his blue eyes. Lastly, was a beautiful Elf maiden who appeared to be about the same age as Makilien. She shared the same rich dark hair as the Elf-lord and his son.