sight of those monsters.”
“Thank you, my friend. I know you and your
apprentices have been working very hard to complete this armor in time.” Aelryk
went silent for a moment. “Perhaps you could check over my sword and make sure
everything is in order.” He drew the sword and handed it to Yori. “Perhaps the
rune etchings have worn a bit.”
Yori took the sword, his brow wrinkling.
Aelryk was well aware that elven runes did not wear over time. He was troubled
but trying not to show it. Yori inspected the sword before taking it to the
grindstone to sharpen its edge. Once he was satisfied with its sharpness, he
began polishing the sword, occasionally glancing back at his friend. Silently,
Aelryk watched Yori work.
“It's perfect, my king,” Yori said as he
handed the sword back to him.
Taking the sword, Aelryk said, “I thank
you again, my friend. I also have a question for you.”
Yori waited for the king to speak.
“You spent time learning from the Wild
Elves and also from Enlightened Elves. Tell me, do you know anything of the
Westerling Elves or of the Vale where they live? Do they even exist?”
“I wish I could help you,” Yori said
sincerely. “I know nothing of them. All I have heard are old fairy tales. No
one has ever mentioned to me that they might actually exist.”
Aelryk took a deep breath and said, “I was
afraid you would say that. I wonder if I'm riding on a fool's errand.” He shook
his head.
“I do believe they once existed,” Yori
offered. “The stories say they are the First Ones. They came before all other
elves, men, and dwarves. I can't see such a people going off into oblivion. I
think they still exist somewhere in this world. That's truly what I believe if that
helps you at all, my friend.”
“It does help. I'll leave you to finish
your work.” Aelryk shook his friend's hand once again.
As he left the armory, his mind was still
uneasy. Perhaps Yori was justified in his beliefs and perhaps not. He only
wished he had more solid evidence before he set out. If this was indeed an
error, he would be leaving his people unattended for nothing.
A few blocks down the stone path were the
king's stables. The troops who would accompany him were already gathered and
preparing their horses. His wife Lisalla and son Rykon were making their way
towards him. They would want to see him off on his journey.
He walked past the stables to meet his
wife. Her tall, slender form was accentuated by the dark blue gown she wore.
Her blonde ringlets rested lazily on her breast. Taking both of her hands in
his, he kissed her softly on each cheek.
“My queen,” he said.
“My lord,” she replied. “Rykon and I were
just coming to wish you good journey.”
“We're still waiting for Mage Willdor and
Magister Utric to arrive. I have a little time if you would like to join me for
a drink.”
“I'd be delighted,” she said, and they
headed for the market area together.
Rykon, who had been distracted by a smile
from a pretty young maid, followed a short distance behind. He was a handsome
youth and often caught the eye of the young ladies in town. At only sixteen, he
was already as tall as his father and had the same dark hair and eyes.
The three of them took a seat near the inn
and called for the serving girl to bring them each some wine. The young girl
hurried away and reappeared almost instantly bearing three goblets. She placed
the drinks in front of the royal family and then curtsied, her ample bosom
leaning in towards Rykon. The view was not lost on him, and he gave an
approving smile.
“How long will you be away, father,” he
asked.
“A few weeks at the least,” Aelryk
answered. “The maps are quite old, but if they are correct, the journey to the
Vale will take at least a week on horseback. Then there is the matter of
crossing a river of unknown depth and width.”
“But the prophecy isn't specific,” Lisalla
said. “You may find whatever it is you need without crossing the
“Thank you, my friend. I know you and your
apprentices have been working very hard to complete this armor in time.” Aelryk
went silent for a moment. “Perhaps you could check over my sword and make sure
everything is in order.” He drew the sword and handed it to Yori. “Perhaps the
rune etchings have worn a bit.”
Yori took the sword, his brow wrinkling.
Aelryk was well aware that elven runes did not wear over time. He was troubled
but trying not to show it. Yori inspected the sword before taking it to the
grindstone to sharpen its edge. Once he was satisfied with its sharpness, he
began polishing the sword, occasionally glancing back at his friend. Silently,
Aelryk watched Yori work.
“It's perfect, my king,” Yori said as he
handed the sword back to him.
Taking the sword, Aelryk said, “I thank
you again, my friend. I also have a question for you.”
Yori waited for the king to speak.
“You spent time learning from the Wild
Elves and also from Enlightened Elves. Tell me, do you know anything of the
Westerling Elves or of the Vale where they live? Do they even exist?”
“I wish I could help you,” Yori said
sincerely. “I know nothing of them. All I have heard are old fairy tales. No
one has ever mentioned to me that they might actually exist.”
Aelryk took a deep breath and said, “I was
afraid you would say that. I wonder if I'm riding on a fool's errand.” He shook
his head.
“I do believe they once existed,” Yori
offered. “The stories say they are the First Ones. They came before all other
elves, men, and dwarves. I can't see such a people going off into oblivion. I
think they still exist somewhere in this world. That's truly what I believe if that
helps you at all, my friend.”
“It does help. I'll leave you to finish
your work.” Aelryk shook his friend's hand once again.
As he left the armory, his mind was still
uneasy. Perhaps Yori was justified in his beliefs and perhaps not. He only
wished he had more solid evidence before he set out. If this was indeed an
error, he would be leaving his people unattended for nothing.
A few blocks down the stone path were the
king's stables. The troops who would accompany him were already gathered and
preparing their horses. His wife Lisalla and son Rykon were making their way
towards him. They would want to see him off on his journey.
He walked past the stables to meet his
wife. Her tall, slender form was accentuated by the dark blue gown she wore.
Her blonde ringlets rested lazily on her breast. Taking both of her hands in
his, he kissed her softly on each cheek.
“My queen,” he said.
“My lord,” she replied. “Rykon and I were
just coming to wish you good journey.”
“We're still waiting for Mage Willdor and
Magister Utric to arrive. I have a little time if you would like to join me for
a drink.”
“I'd be delighted,” she said, and they
headed for the market area together.
Rykon, who had been distracted by a smile
from a pretty young maid, followed a short distance behind. He was a handsome
youth and often caught the eye of the young ladies in town. At only sixteen, he
was already as tall as his father and had the same dark hair and eyes.
The three of them took a seat near the inn
and called for the serving girl to bring them each some wine. The young girl
hurried away and reappeared almost instantly bearing three goblets. She placed
the drinks in front of the royal family and then curtsied, her ample bosom
leaning in towards Rykon. The view was not lost on him, and he gave an
approving smile.
“How long will you be away, father,” he
asked.
“A few weeks at the least,” Aelryk
answered. “The maps are quite old, but if they are correct, the journey to the
Vale will take at least a week on horseback. Then there is the matter of
crossing a river of unknown depth and width.”
“But the prophecy isn't specific,” Lisalla
said. “You may find whatever it is you need without crossing the
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