Chapter 38
Rwiordes sat in attendance of the
Lormian king, as he had since his arrival a week earlier. Why Tolris wanted him there, he was not
entirely certain. He had already told
the king everything he knew. At first,
of course, it was difficult. His tidings
were extraordinary and almost wholly unpleasant to the monarch, to say the
least. Obviously his arrival via the
mythical Gerdoans and their griffins lent credence to his tale. If not for that they probably would have
thrown him in the dungeon, immediately denouncing him as a madman. Not that there weren’t those of the Lormian
nobility who not be happy with such a course.
Many were of the opinion that Rwiordes, or the Messenger as the King
dubbed him, had fabricated the wild tale to gain some sort of power over the
Tolris. He realized that if he were in
their positions he might be inclined to believe such a thing himself. His favor with the King was a mystery to him
as well.
It was quite confusing at first. When he arrived he demanded to see the
Champion at once. He was quite surprised
to learn that the Lormians had no idea what he was talking about. They had no inkling of the great danger they
were in or the Druidic plan to combat the Demon. None-the-less, there must have been about him
an earnestness, for they did bring him before the mighty Tolris.
Tolris was without a doubt the most
majestic and intimating man he had ever met.
He was in his mid fifties, though not a grey hair could be seen in his
long brown mane. He reached six and a
half feet tall when he stood and his powerful frame bulged with muscles. The warrior king of a warrior people. Regal and august he seemed, though a great
degree of melancholy could be discerned in his bearing.
Even Tolris listened with diminishing
patience as Rwiordes hurriedly recounted his experiences with the Demon and
issued warnings most dire. But then
everything had changed when he got to the part about the Champion, about Tolian,
his son. That was harder news to bear
for Rwiordes but the king listened. He
had given his son up for dead, and news that he was alive was as a balm to
him. It was difficult for him to accept,
and understandably so. But despite the
news of the prince’s transformation, the hope that his son was alive gave
Tolris the reason to want to believe Rwiordes’ story. Much to the initial regret of his advisors
Tolris decided to trust Rwiordes and gave the orders to prepare for a siege.
Since then Rwiordes was grilled by
Tolris and his generals regarding the strength of the Demon’s forces, though
the generals clearly had had their doubts.
They knew enough, however not to question their king, and so battle
plans were drawn up based upon the information that he, the Messenger, had
given. The Lormian nobles were certain
that Rwiordes had bewitched their King, using the disappearance of his son as
the center piece of his treachery. Most,
however, began to accept Rwiordes’ tale as two events corroborated his
account. First, their long distance
scouts reported impossibly large amounts of black smoke to the North, as though
great fires raged throughout the Northern Kingdoms. Such a thing had never been witnessed
previously, and many Lormians began to accept that perhaps there might have
been something to the Messenger’s warnings after all. Secondly, the king’s nephew arrived just two
days ago, claiming to bear warnings from Tolian. He mentioned nothing of the prince’s
transformation into a woman, until he discovered that he King had already been
advised. Then he revealed everything that
he knew regarding Tolian, her druidic companions and their quest. Only a few doubted Rwiordes then.
Now they waited. The
Lormian warriors were preoccupied by the business of defense, leaving Rwiordes
to entertain the king. They did little
else but sit and wait for the Champion and the Demon, uncertain as to who would
arrive first. The king spoke little to
him, and it remained a complete mystery as to why Tolris kept him around. He was not an easy man to figure out.
Rwiordes was startled from his
memories by the door page, a young teen who appeared befuddled.
“Your Majesty,” said the youth
bowing, “Tolian has arrived.”
Rwiordes looked up. Sure enough, behind the page stood the woman
he had seen in his vision of the werewolf attack on Halloween. She was astoundingly beautiful, cloaked in
werewolf skin and suited in the most immodest armor he had ever seen. She was without a doubt the Druidic Champion. There was a power emanating from her that
brought out a fear in Rwiordes that he could not understand. Here was the one person whom the Demon feared.
He could not imagine why he should feel
trepidation in the World’s only hope.
Behind the Champion, stood two of her companions that he also
recognized, as well as a rather unusual pet panther.
Gaining control of his unfathomable
anxiety, he turned to see Tolris’ reaction.
The mighty king rose to his feet and stared fixedly at the Champion, his
expression was filled with emotion unclear to Rwiordes. The Champion stood there proudly, allowing
her father to study her before she spoke.
“Greetings, Father,” she said with
just a little hesitation.
Tolris stared but a moment longer,
before joyously bounding across the distance between them and embracing the
Champion who clearly was not expecting such a reaction from the warrior
king. He hugged his child with great
tenderness. Tears welled up in his eyes.
“Tolian,” he sobbed. “I thought I had
lost you. I could not bear it. Thank the Gods that you live.”
The golden haired druidess and the
faerie beamed in appreciation of the reunion.
Even Rwiordes was touched, though he was beginning to feel a deep sense
of unreality, as though everything was unravelling. He felt cold.
Something was not right. Darkness
played about the edges of his vision.
“It’s so hard to believe, my son,”
said King Tolris.
“I know,” replied Tolian, “but we
have more important things to discuss than my new appearance.”
“Indeed,” agreed the father releasing
his daughter from his embrace. “But
first who are your companions?”
Rwiordes was finding it difficult to
hear the words anymore. He struggled to
continue to listen.
“This is Findelbres of the Realm of
Faerie, a good friend and worthy ally.
And this is Brythia, Priestess of the Druidic Order, and the woman I
love.”
Then something in Rwiordes’ head
snapped. His vision cleared. He felt himself rise to his feet. Panic struck at him, though his countenance
expressed no such emotion. He was not in
control of his muscles. Some other power
controlled him. He bowed before the
Champion. He heard words come from his
mouth, “It is a great honor, indeed, to meet the great Champion.”
He felt a smile spread across his
face.
Just then, alarm trumpets rang out
over the Palace.
Many voices cried out, “Dragons! Prepare!
Dragons!”
Inside his head, Rwiordes felt a
whorling darkness taking shape, a familiar hissed whisper “Well done Rwiordes,
now we are inside.”
END of PART III
END of PART III
Copyright 2002, 2015 Diana Hignutt
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