Elfsorrow

Chapter 41

Yron strode through the halls of Xetesk towards his meeting with Dystran, Erys scurrying to keep up, an escort of four mages and two Protectors around them. His anger had sharpened throughout the ride across Xetesk's mage lands to the city of his birth, and the immediate summons to Dystran's audience chambers at the base of the Tower had done nothing to calm him.

Filthy from the road, he swept through the doors as they were opened for him by a servant. The audience chamber was small but welcoming. Fires were lit on opposite walls and the sun shone in through a large arched window in front of him. Chairs were spaced around the room, all unoccupied. Leaning on the mantel to the left was Dystran, and standing next to him, supported by a stick, Ranyl, gaunt and sick.

Dystran came forward, his face alight with a smile.

'My dear Captain Yron and the excellent Erys, may I welcome you at the end of your fantastic journey.'

'Too many men are dead for any celebration, my Lord Dystran,' said Yron. 'And only by luck am I here at all.'

'Yes, I heard you had trouble with elves,' said Dystran.

'Trouble? My Lord, there is an army of them out there. They are well trained fighters. Their mages are skilled and all are utterly determined. Don't underestimate them. They are fearless and can take on Protectors because they are quick enough to beat them. And they will be coming here, though why the theft of some parchments, however holy, should inspire such a reaction, I'm not sure.' Yron could see Dystran was barely interested. He bit his tongue to be silent.

'Indeed,' said Dystran. 'But please, don't worry about it. We have the situation well in hand.'

'In the same way you have The Raven well in hand?' Yron said sharply. 'I am sorry, my Lord, but they came within twenty yards of catching me and I was assured they would be taken care of. Never even found them, did you? I say again, why are they and the elves so desperate to recover these texts?'

Dystran's smile thi

Yron nodded, managing to relax a muscle or two. He turned to Erys, who passed over the leather satchel. Yron unclasped it and drew out the four texts that had made the trip. So many men dead, so little to show. He handed them to Dystran, who laid them immediately on a table near him and spread them out.

'The one in the middle there, my Lord,' said Erys, pointing at a bound volume with intricate embossing on the cover and gilt-edged pages. 'That is the Aryn Hiil unless I am sadly mistaken. In there are the secrets of elven longevity.'

Dystran brushed his hand across the cover reverentially and looked up. 'No mistake, Erys,' he breathed. 'If there was one text I needed, this was it. You two have no idea of the rewards Xetesk will heap on you for what you have done. This will bring us what we desire.'

'My Lord, we live to serve,' said Erys, bowing.

Yron looked at the young mage and shook his head.

'And you have the healthy cynicism of experience,' said Dystran, noticing the gesture. 'Captain, all I can offer you now are my thanks, the respect of the Circle Seven and a place to bathe and change. I have had chambers readied for you both just a little way down the hall. I have had clothing laid out for you and while you bathe, Captain, your axe will be polished and placed in a new holster. I trust you like it. And that is only the very begi

'But before you go, I would see the statue fragment you have.' Dystran held out his hand.

Yron looked at Erys again. 'Thanks a lot.'

'I'm sorry, Captain, I…' At least he had the good grace to look embarrassed.

'My only memento of this whole mess and my only solid memory of Ben-Foran. You owe me, boy.'

He dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out the thumb, handing it across to Dystran, who clutched it greedily.

'Oh, don't worry, Captain; it will be returned to you. But it needs to be researched and studied.' He looked up and smiled again. 'Rest assured, it remains your property. Now, please, both of you, wash, rest and dress. We are hosting a di

But as Yron left the chamber, he wasn't so sure he had. Not so sure at all. It had been a long and, if Yron was absolutely honest with himself, very pleasurable evening when the war outside the gates seemed distant. He'd spent the day relaxing in sumptuous chambers, he'd taken two baths and he'd slept in a bed for the first time in so long he'd forgotten what a luxury a mattress and sheets were.

And dressing in the fine dark silk shirt and stitched leather trousers Dystran's tailors had so expertly made from the template of old clothes taken from his barracks room, he began to feel that perhaps his earlier misgivings were, well, misplaced. His only regret was that Ben was not here to enjoy the fruits of their success.

He'd left the gold- and silver-veined holster, in which his old axe sat like a pig's trotter in a velvet glove, on his bed, feeling the need to be free of the accoutrements of battle for the evening, and had gone to join the di

Yron, cautious and close at first, had found his lips eased by the vintage red wine in his seemingly ever-full goblet and had relaxed into the celebration with growing enthusiasm. For once in his life, he was truly ahead.

As the evening wore on, and feeling more light-headed from the wine than he was used to, Yron had gone to relieve himself and then wandered back along the lantern-lit picture-hung corridor to the huge vaulted dining chamber. Bright light spilled from the open doors and the sound of laughter and the chink of glasses and cutlery echoed out to him in welcome.

He paused just to the side of the doors to let a servant laden with dishes hurry out and became aware of Dystran's voice inside but very close. It never hurt to hear the unguarded thoughts of the mighty so he checked the corridor was empty. Barring the Protectors flanking the doors, it was, so he listened.

'The Aryn Hiil will provide great insight, I am sure,' Dystran was saying.

'My scholars are working on the translation even now,' said Ranyl's cracked voice.

'Well, you must keep me apprised.' The disinterest in his tone was obvious. 'But now we have this outwardly insignificant item, we have a far less troublesome solution to our problem.'

'It is a severe course of action, my Lord.'

'I

'Assuming we can keep the allied colleges from our gates,' said Ranyl.

'That I entrust to our commanders and they assure me we will prevail.'