III.

List of Names

* Evryth (EV-rith, Eastern Kingdom)

* Melóm (MEH-lohm)

* Maidilar (MAHY-di-lahr, Sky Lord)

* Apállias (a-PAHL-lee-as, Bright Lord or Shining Lord)

* Úbarriel (oo-BAHR-ree-el, Lord of Passion’s Flame)

* Äendar (AY-en-dahr, Truth Lord)

* Arrendiel (ahr-REN-dee-el, Heavenly Beauty)

The loremaster was facing away from Aurimar, sitting cross-legged upon a turf of grass on the shore. He sat right beside the mouth of a stream that meandered from the wetlands behind, listening to the murmurs and babbling as it poured into Southtwin Lake. Every so often, he would murmur back in a low voice, then perk his ears or cock his head, as if waiting for an answer. He wore a traveling-cloak of fine, but not ornate, material, a soft, misty gray in color; its hood was thrown back. Light blonde hair spilled down his back to about his shoulder blades.

Aurimar had stopped upon seeing the loremaster, about fifty feet away; he still stood in the body of cattails, but his keen elven eyes had sighted Alquilan through all the waving reeds. Now he called out a greeting, remaining at a respectful distance.

The loremaster responded without moving or turning around. “Greetings to you, as well, master knight!” he cried; his voice was light and melodic, but held hints of greater depth. “Thank you for your courtesy as you approached me, but I am not alarmed: the waters told me someone was drawing near. Come closer, that we may speak comfortably with one another.” As Aurimar walked up to him, he listened to the stream for a few moments more, then sighed and rose to his feet. As he stood, he picked up a staff that had lain at his side; it was made of what appeared to be driftwood and beautifully shaped, with smooth, spiraling carvings running its length. Above the grip was set a circle of small stones, of clearest light blue, and a larger stone of the same type was set in its top.

“Well-met, sir,” Aurimar began, “I am Aurimar Edawë, master-knight of the Order of the Lily”. He bowed low and gracefully. “May I trust that you are Alquilan, loremaster and friend of the Order? You match his physical description, as well as what I know of him. I have ridden hard these last two weeks, and sought you the last few days on foot, in great haste and urgency. The elders of the Holy Order have assigned me a dangerous mission, and its first stage was locating you and beseeching your aid.”

“I am indeed Alquilan the loremaster”, he replied, smiling at Aurimar – his eyes were a misty blue, almost gray – “and if the Order has sent you to seek my assistance, then it is indeed a dangerous mission you have, or at least one that has to do with ancient or forgotten knowledge. Let us walk upon the shore, here, and you may tell me about it!” They turned, and began walking westward on the sand.

As Aurimar told him about the evil presence in the Eastern Kingdom, haunting part of the road, Alquilan listened intently. When Aurimar mentioned Árrilir’s suspicions regarding an evil of the old days, the loremaster’s face turned thoughtful, and he stopped and turned to the lake, watching the gentle, rolling waves.

“The Silver Road, and at that point along its length...” he murmured, his face turned to the lapping waters, his eyes seeing elsewhere. “Were it near that hill, it could be quite possible... and the descriptions given, though vague, suggest that kind of evil. I wonder...” Aurimar stood beside him, silent, letting the man ponder. After a minute he turned to the knight. “I concur with Árrilir’s suspicions, Aurimar,” he said, his eyes lit with sudden interest. Let us go and investigate this menace. It may be that my skills and strength, and yours, are dearly needed!”

“Yes!” said Aurimar, catching the loremaster’s enthusiasm. “Let us leave at once! But, I must ask, how can we arrive in time? I have lost days looking for you, and now only nine remain before the other masters who are there continue without us! It is several hundred miles’ journey, and I have left my steed at Belisun. Do you know any secret paths through these fens, to return to the town?”

“We have no need to return to Belisun” said Alquilan, walking off swiftly; he gestured for Aurimar to follow him. “It is not so far for a loremaster, skilled in the arts of magic, to travel five hundred miles as the eagle flies.” They continued down the shoreline, as they had before. Several minutes passed, but Aurimar was patient, and curious; wizards were not as common among his people as they were with other kinds of elves. Though he had had dealings with magic-users more than once, he was still intrigued by their mysterious ways. Finally they stopped, in an area not so different from where they had met. Before them was a large pond, surrounded on roughly three sides by rushes. Away from the shore, the land continued as it had, in scattered swathes of marsh and sand-dune. In between the pond and the lake, though, there lay small drifts of a feathery moss, strangely clear in color and soaked with condensation, long and tangled. The moss-patches emanated such moisture that a thin fog seemed to enshroud them. Alquilan leaned forward, tearing a small handful from one drift.

“Ah!” he said, “such fairness! This patch I discovered yesterday, in my searching. Long must this kind grow undisturbed, bathing in moonlight and spray and fog from the fens, to reach such a fullness.” Aurimar, himself enamored of the quiet moss, stepped forward to examine it. Up close, a strange, crystalline glow seemed to emit from the moisture soaking the plants... Before he could continue, he heard Alquilan speak, murmuring words in a soft voice. Looking up, he saw the tuft of moss glimmering in the wizard’s hand, and the clearest-blue stones upon his staff shining with a pale light. Aurimar could hear the words he spoke, but they seemed to disperse before being received in his mind. Slowly, the loremaster began disappearing, his body turning to mist.

“Quick, master knight, take my hand!” he called, reaching out the hand holding the moss. Startled, but trusting the wizard, Aurimar rushed forward. As soon as his hand touched Alquilan’s, both began to vanish, turning to a thin fog that stole up their bodies, consuming the two in a haze of vapors that then scattered in the wind.

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Aurimar opened his eyes to find himself in a completely different place. Instead of the murmuring lakeshore and its caressing breezes, a gently wooded area surrounded him, a handful of pines and maples susurring around where he stood. It was not a forest: the trees were spread too thinly, with waist-high grasses and the occasional tall brush in between. Alquilan was next to him, and beside both of them was a clear pool of water. He could hear robins amid the trees, singing, some in sight and others further off. His hand momentarily at his sword, as he adjusted to these new surroundings, Aurimar turned his face to the loremaster. “And now where are we?”

“This is one of my sanctuaries,” Alquilan responded, looking happily on the clear water. “I have little places of peace across the land where I will stop, in my wanderings, for a bit of rest and contemplation. This is a particularly bright, clear pool in northern Evryth, not too far from the main road – just enough, and just a wild-enough place, to not attract the attentions of men. It is a shame that we are in haste, for there are lovely plants about here, and fey creatures sometimes can be found delighting in the trees and the water. Indeed there is a rusalka, a water-maid, who dwells in this very pond; and we seem to have startled her into hiding, for the moment. But we must go. The Silver Road is scarce a mile south of us; from there, by what you have told me, it is still a day’s travel east along the road to reach where your brother-knights stand guard.”

“A shame, indeed” Aurimar murmured, gazing on the pool. He himself would have loved to encounter and talk with any woodland fey; and the songs of water-spirits, though perilous, are legendary. But to be already in the Eastern Kingdom, and within a day’s march of their goal! And the feeling of dissipating into vapor, only to re-form hundreds of miles away! Smiling, the elven knight threw back his cloak, the silver mail beneath shining, and strode away with the wizard.

The two quickly left the slightly-wooded area, and within a few minutes were passing through open grasslands. Not long after, they reached the Silver Road, a path of worn gray stones about twenty feet across. Turning east from there, they covered two dozen miles by evening. While walking, the two talked occasionally, asking questions about each other’s lives and journeys. Aurimar learned that the loremaster studied magic of light and water as his specialty, and particularly loved mists and vapors – and the dawn. In return, Alquilan was very interested in the wood-elf’s travels, and the long-ago years spent in his homeland in the heart of the Elven Wood. He asked about Aurimar’s travels with Árrilir, who he himself knew, and listened intently to the knight’s tales of the adventures they had shared. Deciding to continue a few hours into the dark, they put several more miles behind them, finally stopping for the night under the full glory of the stars.

The next morning, that of the thirteenth day, they rose and returned to the road. Making good speed, they saw as the morning waned that the land changed, ever so slightly, around them: the grassy plains began to undulate gently, and meadows of smaller plants and wildflowers interspersed the grasses that had beforehand flowed on uninterrupted beside them.

About mid-afternoon, Aurimar saw two banners far ahead of them and to the left, north of the road. The banners depicted a white rose, upon a field of blue; behind them, enclosed by short, hastily-erected palisades, lay more than a score of tents.

“So Knights of the White Rose were tasked to defend the road,” Alquilan said, after Aurimar shared his sighting. The White Rose were the First Knighthood of the Order, Aurimar’s brothers, protectors of the innocent and guardians against evil. “That is well, but I hope that they are properly equipped, with silver blades at the least. Maybe magical swords could have some effect here, but if what I fear is true, ordinary steel will not.” After a few minutes, they came within sight of the human sentries watching from the palisades, and were hailed. As they answered and came closer, they saw that the palisades facing south were stronger and more carefully built – and that they showed signs of damage from the outside, scratches and slashes in the wood. The entrance to the small encampment lay between the two banners; they walked up and were met by a knight cloaked in blue, his armor emblazoned with a white rose upon the breast.

The knight bowed and introduced himself as Melóm, Senior Journeyman. He was the leader of the encampment, which numbered thirty-one knights at present, though almost half were away patrolling in groups south of the road. On learning that Aurimar and Alquilan were members of the group being sent to investigate, he became merry, and led the two within. Inside the small encampment, a few men stood upon the palisades, while others trained together in cleared areas. In one corner there was a field hospital, where there lay five injured men, resting. On the northern side of the encampment was a small shrine, honoring five of the Order’s patrons – Maidilar, lord of justice; Apállias, lord of light; Úbarriel, lord of passion; Äendar, lord of truth; and Arrendiel, lady of celestial beauty. This was odd to Aurimar, for the lady Arrendiel was not widely followed among the knights, though she was one of the twelve powers honored by the Order. The entire fortification was a rectangle about one-hundred fifty by a hundred feet.

As they followed Melóm, he told them the most recent tidings. Over the past several weeks the knights had strengthened these defenses, which had helped them repel occasional assaults in the night. The assaults could be fierce, and were composed of evil, undead creatures – skeletons and ghouls armed with swords, and some horrible distorted creatures that Melóm did not know. But these assaults had been beaten back; the most dangerous attacks were those upon men patrolling in the dark. Every knight had his own story: of when his group was surrounded by skeletons; or set upon by strange phantoms; or unable to see or hear anything, but able to feel a tangible, terrible evil about them, the entire time they patrolled.

It was in the midst of this that the other masters had begun to arrive, and the “specialists” Árrilir had sent for. First there came the Holy Slayer, a couple weeks ago, a master-knight of silver and shadows. The day he arrived, he went alongside the men on patrol, slipped off into the darkness, and ambushed a waiting force of undead monsters, driving them right into the readied knights. Then, there came the Hunter of Evil, a stalker of vile creatures just such as this. He and the Holy Slayer had made their own patrol one night, and the otherwordly howls and cries of their prey had made the guards on the palisade shudder, strong-hearted though they were. And then there had come the Master Swordsman, in shining silver armor and celestial blue cloak, a thin saber at his side: the blade was of breathtaking workmanship, its sheathe of platinum with sky-blue stones. He came escorting the Priestess of Arrendiel, woman of great beauty; wielder of heavenly magic, she walked beside him in shimmering robes, bearing a willow staff. When the most recent assault had come upon the encampment, it was swiftly broken and routed, and these four had led the counter-charge, driving the foe before them into the night. But they did not overextend themselves, and retreated back to the palisades.

Finally Melóm led them to a large tent, erected on the eastern side as a command center. There he stepped inside and announced their presence, then bowed and came back for them. Following him inside, Aurimar and Alquilan for the first time laid eyes on their comrades.