Fire And Ice (Book 1) (75 page)

             
“I did not mention him because I believe that he will not involve himself in the fight, at least not unless it becomes necessary.  He will hold back his strength.”

             
“But when he does get involved you will be able to deal with him, will you not?”  Robert asked.  He was not the only one to sense the unease coming from Thalamus at the mention of Elthzidor.

             
“No,” the wizard replied.

             
“No?” the word came from more than one throat.

             
“Have you not yet comprehended what is going on here?”  Thalamus’ voice rose as he talked.  “All of Summerhall’s talk about another Great War and you still do not believe?  This is not a simple invasion by a foreign power we are dealing with.  The army that is coming here, and the Maji, have been sent here by the Dark God to destroy us all.  Elthzidor is their chosen leader.  He will not be easily dealt with.”

             
“Is there no hope then?”  King Robert asked.

             
“There is hope,” Thalamus stated more calmly.  “The First Wizard of Herrinhall is more powerful than I am.  If he arrives in time, as he said he would, then he might be able to do something.”

             
“Might?”  Robert said.  “If Elthzidor is the Destroyer’s champion than what of the prophecy?  What of our own Champion?”

             
“Ah, that is the point, is it not?” the wizard said with a thin smile.  “Take heart, the Gods will reveal the Champion when the time is right and not before.”              

             
Rob grunted at the wizard’s words.  “I hope that time comes before we are ground into dust.”

             
Around the center of the camp, where the leaders of the Alliance were meeting, soldiers from all across Midia stood about, staring at what was sticking out of the ground in front of the large, striped pavilion.  They looked upon the banners with a sense of pride and a belief in what they stood for.              

Chapter 39

Heading South

              King Jarl never approached him with an offer, but that didn’t deter his daughters.  They had taken every opportunity to be in his company.  Whether it was for meals or meetings or anytime between, one if not both were always there ready with a word or a touch on the arm.  It was with some relief that the Kings decided it was time to leave Nyess.  There were only so many places to hide in a castle where he was a stranger and they knew every stone of it.  He was so happy to be boarding the ship that he didn’t even mind when Ilana, the elder daughter, gave him a peck on the cheek and Nana, the younger, a squeeze of his hand in farewell.  He didn’t think there would ever be an occasion for him to return to Nyess.  He would see to that.  

             
It had all started upon reaching the city of Nyess, which was situated between two forks of the Wolf River, and the feast that was served in his honor.  He suddenly found himself seated between two young women with blonde braids and blue eyes.  They were the daughters of Jarl, the King of Nyess.  It had been a long evening with them insisting on hearing him tell of his exploits.  He tried to deny any, but they knew too much already for him to get away with it.  He was finally rescued by Storvik who thought it a very good joke.  Coran asked the Northman about the persistence of women.  Storvik gave him a reply.

             
“You are the Lord of the North,” he had said.  “The first in a thousand years, and like Eryk, you will be never forgotten.  How could any unmarried girl resist the thought of marrying a living legend?  Even married women might be interested, just not in commitments.”  He had laughed very hard at his own joke.

             
Apparently, being betrothed in the North did not mean very much, at least to other women.  It only counted if you were actually married, and he had the feeling that that would not have saved him either.  He decided that women were stranger than Karands.              

             
Thankfully, the day finally came for their departure and the ships were loaded with as many men as they could pack on board.  As the first ships filled up they pulled up anchor and sailed out into the river to be replaced by another ship, that one was then loaded and replaced by yet another as thousands of eager Northmen waited for it to be their turn to board a ship. 

             
Coran boarded the same ship as Tenobius, Storvik, and one other wizard from Herrinhall.  Tenobius and the other wizard were afforded their own cabin, and Coran had to share with Storvik, which was a good thing since the other cabins were packed with four or five men apiece.  The crew’s area below decks was filled up as well and men had to find places for their blankets on the main deck too.

             
The fleet of ships stretched along the river for miles.  He estimated about fifteen to twenty thousand warriors had pushed themselves onto the vessels.  He hoped that it would be enough with Grendin out of the fight and who knew what else had happened in his absence.  Roland’s plan was the most logical, so he assumed that the West would try and put up a defense at Stockton.  That was where he was leading the Northmen.

             
They set sail under a sky of large grayish white clouds moving ponderously from west to east.  The cold wind seemed to blow stronger on the water, and even the thick skinned Northmen sat on the deck with their backs to the sides of the railings for protection. 

             
Coran found his place in the prow as he usually did and ignored the wind as it whipped about his cloak and hair.  The white covered land slipped by and was a stark contrast to the dark surface of the water.  The river surged against the rocks of the bank creating a white froth that fell away to rejoin the current.  He could sense the two men who approached him from behind, but let them speak before acknowledging their presence. 

             
“Coran?” a voice called to him.              

             
He turned to see Tenobius along with a man he only knew to be the other wizard.  Tenobius was clearly older and had a wise expression on his round face.  The other man was young, perhaps his own age with dark curly hair and an innocent look about him.  It was not the innocence of youth since his eyes held a wisdom all their own.  It was a look that said he knew all the horrors of the world, but didn’t expect to have to experience them himself.  He was also rather short, maybe Katelyn’s height, and perfectly proportioned for his size.  He carried a wooden staff that stood half a foot above his head.

             
“This is Petrin Venn.”  Tenobius gestured to the younger man.  “He may look young, but he has an intriguing mind.  He spends a great deal of time studying in the library among other things.”

             
“It is a pleasure to meet you.”  Petrin Venn shook his hand. 

             
“I am glad to meet you too,” Coran replied politely.  “Should I call you Petrin, or Venn?”

             
“Petrin Venn,” the young wizard told him simply.

             
“Ah, Petrin Venn is from Kellbiring,” Tenobius pointed out. 

             
That explained it.  It also explained his short stature.  The people of Kellbiring were considered to be a strange lot by those who met them.  No one knew what people they belonged to.  Their height suggested that they might be Ithanian, but the people of Ithan deny any such connection.  It is considered by some that they could be the descendants of the original inhabitants of the area now populated by Midian, Ithanian, and Western Karand.  That was so long ago though that no one can say for sure, except maybe the Kellbiring themselves.

             
“I told you that there would be someone you should meet,” Tenobius said.  “Petrin Venn here started out sensing the power much like you did.  Among his people they are taught the staff from an early age.  They do not use edged weapons.  He was quickly recognized as being remarkably gifted.  The Kellbiring are much more aware of things that concern the power than other people so Petrin Venn was sent to us young.  It took a while for his other abilities to emerge, so for a long time his only outlet was with his staff.”

             
“What Master Tenobius is trying to say is that you may not have active powers, but you do have something with which to fight,” Petrin Venn explained.  “I know that my continuous work with the staff eventually led to my affecting things around me.  Perhaps if you work with your abilities it will help your chances.”

             
“You know that I have to face Elthzidor?”  Then realized that he was talking to a wizard.  Of course he would know.

             
“Yes.  As soon as you were seen with the sword, everyone knew.”

             
“Everyone?” Coran asked.

             
“Of course.  You are the Champion.  The one foretold in prophecy.”

             
Elthzidor sat waiting on his black horse for the scouts to return from the city.  The army was passing by a few miles to the south.  The Taragosans were still biting at his flanks, but they had no more effect than the Voltians had.  His army was making good time across the low hills and plains of central Taragon.  He estimated that it would take another ten days to reach the Blood.  If his forward scouts were correct than he would have the advantage of numbers, not that he really needed it. 

             
A Bloodrider rode away from the city and up the hill towards him.  The man stopped in surprise at seeing him.

             
“Master,” he said quickly.  “I did not expect to see you here.”              

             
“I know.  Was there anyone in the city?”  Of course he was not expected here since he had arrived by shifting.  That was what he called it when he could move from one place to another instantaneously.  It had been much more difficult bringing his horse along, but the distance had not been great.

             
“A few stragglers who delayed in leaving my Lord.”  As the scout reported, he kept his eyes downcast out of respect.  It was not for fear.  At least not for fear of his life.  A Bloodrider’s only fear was disgracing himself.

             
“How many?”

             
“A hundred or so.”

             
“Thank you.  You may go,” he ordered and the scout left in a hurry.

             
He would have to speak with the general.  A thousand or so to garrison the city of Sunderly would protect their rear in case something unexpected happened.  A warning to anyone who might approach couldn’t hurt.  A few bodies hanging from the walls should do the trick if some of those stragglers could be rounded up.

             
The only thing that worried him was that no one could tell him where Coran was.  After the message from Selisk he had sent word back to Naras to find him for him, but there had been no news as yet.  That made him a little nervous.  Elthzidor knew what was in the North, if not exactly where.  If the boy had found Ice things could get very interesting. 

             
He turned his mount around and started out for the south.  He had no news of Summerhall’s young Queen either.  That she had been crowned was unexpected.  Unexpected in that it had happened so soon.  Perhaps he had underestimated that fat fool Stemis.  The vision he had seen in the boy’s mind was now half complete.                

             
Thinking of visions he ran a thin hand over the hilt of the black sword he wore.  Not only was there power in the blade, but something else as well.  He knew things that he should not know.  Things that had happened a long time ago.  It was strange to dream of being someone else, in another time.  It was stranger to have those things come into his mind when awake.  A little more time to adjust and to learn was all he needed.  A few days.  When he reached the Blood he would be ready.

              The twists and turns of the river slowed them down, but they made up that time in crossing Lake Midia. With the wind at their back they traversed the waters quickly under full sail and reached the head of the Blood River.

             
When they arrived another, smaller fleet of ships was spotted making for the river as well, from the east.  The ships were bulkier then the Northmen’s and the design was clearly a Midian one.  As they neared Coran could make out a gray standard with something on it.  He also saw the white parley flag.

             
Storvik came up beside him.  “You know who they are?”

             
“They are from Holdon,” he answered.  “I will speak with them.”

             
A long boat was readied and he went with Storvik and six others to watch his back and row the boat.  They neared the high decked vessels and several men appeared at the railing.  One had a touch of gray and a chiseled face.  He wore twin lightning bolts on his gray shirt.

             
“Mance Holdon?” Coran called up to the man. 

             
“I am.  Who would you be?”

             
“Coran Tyelin.”              

             
Mance took in the fleet of Northern ships bobbing on the waves.  “I take it we are here for the same reason?”

             
“If you mean to reach the army before it is too late, then yes.”

             
Mance nodded.  “Then I trust we will not have any problems?”

             
“No problems,” Coran assured him.  “We go to fight a common foe.”

             
“Forgive me.  But do you speak for the Northmen as well?”  His tone was doubtful.

             
“He does,” Storvik exclaimed in a growling voice.  “He leads us.”

             
Mance was curious, but accepted the explanation.  “All right. Then I will see you in the South.”

              Treska hugged his wife and his three children on the stone docks in Summerhall’s southern harbor.  He and his friends, all independent ship owners and traders, had met to discuss the announcement that had been read in every square in the city.  A fleet of Ithanians threatened from the south.  They all agreed that the only thing to do was to go and help the other Midian and Northmen ships that were protecting the coastline.  They had sent a representative to the palace to speak with the Queen’s sister.  The Lady Margery heard him out and agreed to help them by supplying arrows for their short bows, and chain mail shirts that were left over in the armory.  Also she sent a delivery of short swords, preferable in the confined conditions of a deck,  for the use of their crew.  It helped a great deal since they had little themselves for going to war.

             
Over a dozen ships were in their small combined fleet of merchant turned warrior vessels.   Jorgins’ ship was among them.  Other ships had already joined the main fleet in the Sea of Ithan.