R. Salvatore - Echoes of the Fourth Magic

Del perked up his ears at the mention of the wizard.

“Ryell forces Ardaz away,” Sylvia said. “He is always calling him an ‘old buffoon’ and other such-”

Arien raised his hand to stay her. “We shall discuss this another time, dear child. I have guests with a tale to tell-one that I am very anxious to hear.”

He motioned for the men to approach and sit before him. Mitchell walked out in front, introduced his companions, and, with a low bow, introduced himself as their leader. Then, at Arien’s bidding, he told their tale from the rescue by the dolphins to their encounter with Sylvia and Erinel at the silver archway on Mountaingate. He carefully omitted the episodes that showed him in a bad light, nor did he tell of the rangers, for he wasn’t certain of the relationship between the Illumans and the warriors of Avalon.

He continued for over an hour, and though he wasn’t much of a storyteller, the strangeness and importance of his tale had Arien leaning forward on his throne, absorbing every word. After the captain finished, Arien sat with his chin resting in his palm, studying the travelers for several long moments, playing their story over and over in his head to test it against his own perceptions.

“It is a good tale,” he said finally. “You shall not be imprisoned, nor shall you be harmed in any way, but I insist that you be my guests for a short while.”

“May I ask what that means?” Mitchell asked.

“You are free to roam the valley, as if you were of my own people,” Arien answered. “But you may not leave the city. You would not find your way out of the mountains anyway.”

“Your judgment is more than fair,” Mitchell said, and again he bowed low.

For the third time since they had first met the Illumans, Billy and Del looked at each other in disbelief.

“What’s with him?” Billy whispered.

“Beats the hell out of me,” Del answered. “But I still don’t trust him.”

“Less than ever,” Billy agreed.

“Would it be possible for me to acquire a writing kit?” Reinheiser asked. “I wish to log our adventure now that I have the chance.”

“Sylvia will see to all of your needs,” Arien replied. “At this time I have other matters to attend.”

They understood his meaning and bowed and turned for the door.

“DelGiudice is to stay,” Arien commanded. “I have yet words to speak with him.”

Del stopped in mid-turn, surprised by the request and more than a bit apprehensive. Mitchell stopped for a moment, too, a scream of jealous rage sticking in his throat. With no other choice, though, he left quietly, as did the rest.

Only Del remained in the somber hall to face the Eldar of Lochsilinilume.

“PERHAPS YOU WILL show me now what it is you are hiding,” Arien said in a friendly tone. He sat relaxed and calm, obviously secure that Del posed no threat.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Del stammered quickly.

“I have lived for many years,” Arien said. “I have seen the dawn of several centuries and witnessed their twilight. Two dozen and ten kings in Caer Tuatha-Pallendara-have come and gone, yet I remain.” He sat up tall and straight and his face grew stern. “Deceive me not with your words, my friend,” he warned, “for I read your eyes and they reveal the truth.”

Del dropped his head down, realizing that he was trapped. Arien knew beyond any doubt that he was hiding something, but Bellerian had trusted him to keep the scroll secret. A desperate idea popped into his head and he met the gaze of the elf-king.

“I didn’t want them to find this,” he explained, an unintentional look of relief crossing his face as he reached into his shirt pocket and produced the derringer.

“What is that?” an amazed Arien asked as he rose from his throne, surprised, but also intrigued by the small object.

“A pistol,” Del answered, convinced that his ploy had worked. “A weapon from my world.”

Arien recoiled, his wide eyes showing that he remembered all too well the tales of the terrible weapons of the ancient age of technology.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Del comforted, surprised by Arien’s unease. “It’s not loaded.” He broke open the breech, displaying the empty chamber. “See? It has no… no…” He paused in search of a word that the elf-king would understand. “No arrows.”

“Why then do you keep it?” Arien asked.

“I don’t know,” Del answered honestly. “It sort of keeps me, I guess. You can have it, if you want.” He presented the pistol before him.

Arien thrust his arms up and recoiled in horror. “No,” he snapped, and Del jumped back nervously. Arien gave a little smile and fought hard to put a measure of calm into his voice. “No, my friend, it is for you to keep,” he explained with as much compassion as he could muster. “It is a burden that has fallen upon you. Keep it safe and well hidden, for the horrors of your age have no place in Ynis Aielle.”

Del still didn’t understand the depth of Arien’s horror, but he packed the pistol back into his shirt, noting how the Eldar relaxed as soon as it was safely away.

“I commend your judgement,” Arien said. “You did well to keep that hidden.”

“I didn’t think it would be wise to let everyone see it,” Del said.

“Tell me, then,” Arien asked, “is it as important a secret as the other you hide?”

Del balked and said quickly-too quickly, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do indeed know what I mean,” Arien insisted softly. “My friend, play no more games with me. I am sure that you have sound reasons for secrecy, and for myself, I would trust you and let the matter drop.

“But understand my position,” he declared, and he stood up straight. “I am Eldar of my people, and for them I am responsible. I shall make no gambles on their safety. Show me now what else you hide.”

Del turned away to wrestle with his indecision. He wanted to honor his promise to Bellerian, yet realized that his entire relationship with the Eldar of Illuma might well hinge on this moment. Arien had seen right through the deception, and from the tone of the Eldar’s voice, Del knew that the elf-lord meant to get the scroll one way or another. Quickly, so he wouldn’t change his mind, Del pulled out the scroll case and tossed it to Arien.

“Ah,” Arien sighed, examining the case without opening it. “I suspected that your Captain Mitchell had left some details out of the story. Bellerian gave you this,” he stated rhetorically. “So you have met the Rangers of Avalon.”

“How could you know?” Del asked, surprised.

“Few could find their way out of Blackemara,” Arien replied. “I knew as soon as your Captain Mitchell told me of your adventure there, then stammered over his explanation of how you got out, that you had likely met up with the Rangers of Avalon. Besides, you came through their land, and none can do that without their knowledge.”

Del gave a great sigh, disappointed in himself for breaking his word to the Ranger Lord.

“Again I commend your judgement,” Arien said. “You were wise in trusting me and honoring my request.” He handed back the unopened case. “I shall not interfere in your business with the lord of the Rangers of Avalon. I have had the honor to meet the venerable Bellerian on several occasions in the past three decades, and I know him as a man worthy of respect. It is to my sorrow that Ungden’s eyes have since turned northward and prevented our friendship from growing, for now no Illuman would be safe wandering from the mountains. Someday perhaps.” A solemn look came to the Eldar’s eyes, as if he was lost in a silent prayer. He revealed to Del in that moment a deep and profound sadness. But he quickly smiled it away. “Might I ask who the scroll is for?”