Chapter 12
The early morning quiet held the palace, though groups of soldiers moved hurriedly through the capital. Brythia moved quickly through the streets of the outer gate village; it felt as though she were gliding. She still felt residual effects from the flying smoke, making it seem as though she belonged to some separate reality. She traveled as softly and as lightly as a ghost in the night. The simple houses and shops were dim and closed up and the villagers inside their warm and comfortable homes asleep.
The druidess looked up at the stars above, glaring brilliantly in the chill, clear sky. Here and there the smoke from the many chimneys wafted together as a cloud and obscured the night sky in its communal ascension to the starry heavens. Judging from the position of the stars and planets, she gauged the hour to be close to three o’clock in the morning. Only a few moments had passed since she left Hyge Bryth.
She moved with her gliding haste towards the main palace building, passing closely to guards who appeared to not even notice her. As she entered the building, the bows of the door guards reassured her of her own visibility.
“Where is the King?” Her inquiry sounded harsh and unceremonious.
“In the Jarrels’ Hall, Milady,” responded one of the men.
With quick thanks, she turned towards the direction he indicated and resumed her determined pace.
The Jarrels’ Hall was in a state of chaos. As she entered the hall, she could hardly comprehend what she was seeing. The tables were still arranged for feasting, and strangely, fully one third of the places were occupied by sleeping Lormians. Around them moved soldiers and servants tending to the newly awakened. The King’s table had been converted into a command center. The King, Miderick, Kiliordes, Delorick, and Lord Talthuwd were huddled around the table. From the Jarrels’ circle, their words were inaudible. Four unusual people standing a little apart from the others distracted her. Three were dressed in the costumes of the Solar Pilgrimage Festival, and the other, whose back was towards Brythia, wore his clothes and held himself in such a way as to indicate he was not human. After a few moments, it dawned on her who this entity was—it was Findelbres.
She pulled back her hood as she reached the table. She did not wait to be acknowledged before asking the question that burned like a fire within her. Nothing else mattered. “What has happened to Tolian?”
Everyone gathered at the table (and those in its periphery) turned their attention towards her, all with signs of great surprise on their countenances, mixed with different emotions on each. The King’s deeply furrowed brow loosened briefly into a look of happy recognition, Miderick and Talthuwd offered an annoyed frustration, while Delorick and Kiliordes looked noticeably relieved. Findelbres’ look of worry was replaced by one of optimism.
“At last,” said the faerie, “someone who will head my counsel.”
“Brythia?” How is it possible?” asked the King, astounded by her presence.
“As always, Your Majesty, I have some magicks of my own,” she answered mysteriously.
“It is well, my daughter. We have need of such magicks,” commented Tolris.
Miderick and Talthuwd rolled their eyes.
“Such magicks as I have are at your service, but you know this. What has happened? Where’s Tolian?”
“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” said Talthuwd. “Perhaps your powers can divine Tolian’s location?”
“Perhaps they can, and I certainly could follow whatever trail there is, but I still need to know what has happened. So, would someone please tell me, or do I have to put a spell on someone,” Brythia directed this last remark at Talthuwd.
Findelbres cast a glance at the others, then spoke, “Tolian has been abducted by a renegade faerie warlord, Dowbreth. He somehow drugged everyone in the Jarrels’ Hall, though how exactly is not completely clear, probably Tolian too. We don’t know where they went or exactly how long they have been gone.”
“I still do not understand how Dowbreth could have stood against Tolian and the Moonsword, drugs or no,” Brythia said.
“Tolian did not have the Moonsword; she left it in your room.” Delorick lowered his head in guilt. “I asked her too. I had no idea.”
Brythia turned back to Findelbres.
“Why would this Dowbreth do this, Findelbres?” the druidess asked.
The elf shrugged his shoulders. “I have some suspicions, but...”
“Tolian would produce powerful offspring...” offered Miderick.
“Mated with that giant, her children would be invincible,” said Talthuwd.
“You’re suggesting that this was done for...for procreation?” Brythia’s voice grew noticeably louder as she spoke.
“We know nothing,” interjected Findelbres. “We will not be able to determine Dowbreth’s motives, it is useless to try.”
It had become apparent to Brythia that they had no more idea of what was going on, or of what to do, than she did. She was wasting precious time. The trail was getting cold. Action was needed not words and debates. Especially as some of those involved in the discussion would just as soon Tolian never came back to Lorm. Her patience was already worn thin. Her tone made that clear.
“Look, I don’t have time for this. I assume you have troops searching for them?”
“Um, ah, yes, of course. Keliof and Kelvris are leading troops in the search.”
“Good,” said the druidess. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I took Findelbres here and did a little looking myself.”
Tolris smiled. “I’m sure that I’d have to clamp you in irons to stop you, my dear, and most likely that wouldn’t work. In the end, none of us are better equipped to find her than you. Go, take whomever you want, but find her. Bring her home.”
“Thank you, Father.” She bowed.
Delorick coughed. “I would go with you, Princess Brythia,” he volunteered. “If my Lord allows it.”
“An excellent idea,” agreed the King. “You, who are Tolian’s three best friends, shall venture forth to her rescue.”
“Make that Tolian’s four best friends,” Kiliordes said, stepping forward. “I would go with my companions of old, if you will have me?” He looked at Brythia.
“Absolutely, you are welcome to join us, both of you. We shall be glad of your companionship. But you must be ready quickly.”
“Fifteen minutes?”
“That will be fine.”
One of the nearby Solar Pilgrims walked behind Kiliordes. He was a large man. More of the stature of a warrior than a merry wanderer, thought Brythia.
“My name is Pagyrus,” he said, bowing to Brythia. “And if Kiliordes comes with you, I shall come too. I am charged to bring him to the Solar Pilgrimage Festival.”
“Very well,” said Brythia impatiently. “But that is all. And I warn you that we shall travel quickly, and rest little. All of you be sure you can travel at my pace. I will not be slowed for anyone.”
“We shall keep your pace, Lady,” Pagyrus assured her.
“Oh, one quick question,” said the King. “My grandson and Myrthis? Where are they?”
“Safe at Hyge Bryth, Your Highness, until you send for them. I think I would wait a little longer just to make certain that Dowbreth had no Lormian aid, if you take my meaning.”
“A wise precaution, my daughter’s wife,” nodded the King in agreement. “We shall investigate that possibility.”
“That is well,” said the druidess. “Now gentlemen, gather your things, I’ll see you in the courtyard in fifteen minutes. If I may take your leave, my lord, I must get one more thing from our chambers before I depart.”
“What would that be?” asked King Tolris.
“The Moonsword.”
Copyright 2004, 2015 Diana Hignutt
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