The Mists of Erantia (Realm of Arkon Book 7) Read online

  But it wasn't just him—his Lord and his brothers perished covering Falanir's escape. And he hadn't let them down—their sacrifice was not to be in vain. Hidden in its protective cocoon, the missive could only be found by a Nightcrawler, as long as he knew where to look. And this little rascal would surely deliver the message...

  The thought of his furry pet brought a smile on the ryhn's face. He had found the gyrt twelve years ago at a random stop while on his six-month-long patrol. The brown weasel cub was dying, his side heavily wounded by an eagle's claw. The shapeshifter had shared his blood with the creature, and Alastale had deemed the sacrifice sufficient. Yes, he would certainly make it, and Saerta would immediately hand the letter over to his brother. Saerta... It was the gyrt who had chosen his wife for him. When the finest huntress of the Gray Shadows clan publicly declared that she would run the Red Moon with whoever managed to steal her broach without her noticing, it was a clear message that her father, Lord Aeric, shouldn't hope to see any grandkids anytime soon. But then, less than a day later, Ryhn Falanir approached the young woman and handed her the ornament, burning with shame and expecting swift punishment. It was his pet, you see. The little creature only wanted to make his friend happy by stealing the ryhna's favorite broach, it wasn't ill-intentioned, and so... Saerta burst out laughing, putting an end to his ramblings. "Well, I cannot in good faith marry a weasel," she said. "So, I suppose I'll have to marry his master." From that moment, his whole world turned upside down.

  The lord could only entrust the missive to him—the father of his yet-unborn grandchildren. Kaglyn had said it would be a boy and a girl, and the shaman never erred. Falanir would never get to see his kids, just as Lord Aeric wouldn't get to his grandkids. So the gods have decided for them—he was only happy that Saerta hadn't gone with their mission to the Misty Thicket...

  Falanir took a deep breath, but felt nothing at all: not the brisk Spring night air, not the scents of blooming field flowers. His sense of smell had vanished together with the pain. He was lucky—the curse that merely grazed him, which gave him three more days, enough to carry out the lord's orders. Just not enough to make it to the Great Forest. No matter, the gyrt would deliver the message, and then his body would be recovered and passed to his wife. All right, back to the cave... Harnessing all his willpower, Falanir pushed up from the rock he'd been sitting on, and cast one final gaze at the moon hanging perfectly still over the valley. His vision was so blurry now that the heavenly body was just a hazy red blotch.

  "Farewell, Red Sister..." the shapeshifter croaked, then plodded back into the cave to die...

  ***

  There was a blue flash of the magic lanterns, almost Christmas-like. I blinked, my vision slowly returning, registering the water streaks on the cave wall. A few breaths to full recovery, and I could finally take a look around.

  "Are you all right?"

  "Yes. You can let me go now!"

  My friend's grip weakened. Glancing at the worried faces of the warriors gathered around me, I handed Max the skull that was still in my hand.

  "Is this what you were telling me about?" he asked, his eyes locked on mine.

  "Yes... I know what this elf thought, what he felt right before his death," I gestured at the bones at our feet, then shrugged and made for the exit. As I passed the far left niche, I added: "The map is here. I'll wait outside."

  It was still light outside—light enough to read a newspaper. If you had a newspaper, that is. My people were leisurely setting up camp for the night, having dismissed their mounts—only my Gloom, Vaessa's dragons and a few lizards for the watchmen remained. Some were pitching tents while others were gathering around campfires. To the left, just past the protrusion, three Blades were engaged in an animated discussion relating to some activity blocked to my field of vision. Soon enough, their comments made it clear what they were watching—evidently, Bonbon had decided to give a visual example of rock art to Reece, just as he had promised.

  "Did you find it?!" Alyona rose from the log she'd been sitting on, her head cocked in anticipation of the answer.

  My sister had apparently decided to temper justice with mercy, and not begrudge her overprotective big brother for not taking her with him.

  "Think so," I shrugged. "They're getting the map now. Let's talk after."

  I turned around and found the rock upon which the dying elf had been sitting. Medical professionals often warn against sitting on cold surfaces, but such admonitions weren't for this world. And the rock probably wasn't that cold, anyway. Having made myself comfortable on the rock, I leaned against the mountain, and lit up. Indeed, this world was full of perks. Though lightweight folding chairs hadn't been invented, even the frailest pixie of a girl can lug around a fifty-pound billet of wood in her inventory—should that be her seat of choice at camp. Food could be prepared for future use—and not a five-liter pot of slop cooked on Sunday and meant to last a whole week. Foodstuffs didn't spoil when stored in inventory. They weren't even really stored, but simply remained exactly as they were after being cooked. Speaking of which, we had finally ran out of meat patties. Whereas the foxes were quite content with dry rations when out in the field, for which these meat patties sufficed, the Blades had a very different—and indisputably better—approach to food. Some had leveled their Cooking skill to 200, comparable to that of a head chef at a Michelin star restaurant! And the results spoke for themselves. I breathed in the smoky air and smiled, suddenly remembering camping trips from my high school days, girls in kerchiefs with serving spoons, a bottle of vodka hidden on the very bottom of a rucksack, a pack of cigarettes, and a guitar—perhaps the most indispensable element. I was never going to experience those emotions again, but I could still lament over the perpetual passage of time... I'd give a lot to stop time, if only for a week, and just enjoy the moment, without having to rush anywhere...

  "How you doing?" Max was the first to emerge from the cave, sized me down with a gripping gaze, and took a seat next to me.

  "I'm fine. Did you get the map?"

  "Affirmative," Max slipped a pipe between his teeth, watching the rest of our guys coming out of the cave. "We got the bones as well—to bury them in the Great Forest."

  "He thought that whoever found him would pass the remains to his wife. Saerta from the Clan of Gray Shadows... if she's even still alive. She was pregnant at the time. But you do as you see fit," I exhaled the smoke, and looked at Max. "So, about the map?"

  "I didn't want to look at it without you. It didn't seem right," he proffered a parchment scroll rolled into a tube, "We came here for it together, so let's look at it together."

  "Next you'll be asking me for half my apple," I grinned.

  "Come on, Max, let's get on with it," Luffy said impatiently. "I want to see, too, and Tasha's starting to get worried."

  "Phylatrim did say that his daughter would emasculate you before long, you poor bastard," Max gave a sorrowful shake of the head. "But I had no idea it would happen this quickly. Anyway, let's have a look here..."

  Yep, this was my friend. He couldn't care less about gods' quests or any such nonsense—if we're in it together, we share the spoils together. As for the apple comment, that was an obscure reference to an incident from back in fifth grade. Both of us had fallen for the same girl, an eighth-grader. So we decided to both profess our love for her, and have her decide which of us she wanted. It was recess, and the girl was sitting on a windowsill, holding an apple. We walked over and took turns professing our feelings—me first, and then him. She heard us out with full attention, then couldn't help but chortle with laughter, handed me her apple, and bolted...

  The map ended up being pretty detailed. Item name: Border of the Great Forest and Darkaan Empire, roughly one hundred eighty by two hundred fifty miles. It had been drawn before the Ancients' invasion, back when the elves were a united people, and the Great Forest's borders were completely different. If the map was to the believed, the forest retreated by some two hundred fifty miles over
these last two and a half millennia. Five castles, a dozen settlements, and a stretch of green, evidently designating thickets. And a dude with puffed-out cheeks in the lower right corner. This was probably the way maps were drawn back on Earth, and the artist had apparently decided to stick with generally accepted canons. Dotting the map were shapes of various animals, wolf muzzles, half-naked men, women with deer antlers, and four dungeons marked by red skulls. Not having the quest myself, the location of the "package" wasn't displayed to me.

  "There," Max fingered a spot where we were currently located. "Only forty miles or so. And we're both headed that way, anyway."

  "It would be odd if he were headed a different way," Donut shook his head. "But don't you see anything else?"

  "You mean the dungeons?" Max nodded at the map, then turned to the rogue. "Well, sure, I realize that no players have cleared them yet. But the map isn't going anywhere. We'll come back sometime and—"

  "And it's not like we're at a pub with wenches around," Donut grinned. "How?! How are you not seeing this?"

  "What are you talking about? What pub and wenches?"

  "Pay no mind to him," Luffy waved dismissively. "You know how he gets these fits."

  Donut rolled his eyes, exhaled demonstrably loudly, and shook his head with despondence.

  "It's you who gets fits," he said in a reproving tone, shoving a finger into the mage's chest. "And you didn't even enter that tub, but stayed outside. Right after the swamp. While Max ogled wenches, you were reading the bulletin board."

  "What wenches?" my friend frowned. "I was buying beer from the elf!"

  "OK, so you ogled the elf, big difference!" the rogue grinned. "You could even argue that elves are worse..."

  "Enough with the spectacle. Just tell us what it is you're seeing."

  Does this elf remind you of a certain someone? With all that clowning around? Jaelitte wondered musingly. And doesn't that make you want to kill him?

  Before I could answer her, Donut stuck his finger at the northernmost castle on the map, held a dramatic pause, and proclaimed:

  "This is Kirana's Temple, Max!" Looking back at me, he spread his arms, palms open. "And, again, it's on our way. Once we've picked up the package, the temple is our next stop. So, all of us might still be together when setting out for Erantia."

  "But... What makes you say that? It looks like a..." my friend's voice was a blend of hope and doubt.

  "Max, I don't know where you were looking this time, but the goddess' companions had precisely these branches on their shields! And a temple—a proper temple, and not a sanctuary—is always marked by this symbol with three jags!" Donut fingered the square drawn on the very edge of the forest, then pointed at another, similar symbol. "This is a castle! See the four jags and the small number?"

  "What he's saying makes sense," I echoed in response to my friend's flabbergasted gaze. "Let's go and tell everyone the good news."

  "Are you seriously saying that we've found Kirana's temple?" Luffy exhaled, shifting his eyes from the warrior to the rogue and back.

  "Well, not yet, but we will by the day after tomorrow. Keep lagging like that, and you'll miss the most interesting bits. Running your mouth about my fits, ha!" Donut gave the flummoxed mage a jovial slap on the shoulder, then started toward the descent.

  "Everyone gather around the campfire, we have news to discuss," Max commanded in the channel as soon as we made it to the campsite.

  "Did something happen?" There was a tinge of anxiety in Alyona's voice.

  She quickly rose from her seat, and headed toward me and Max.

  "Everything's fine," I said to calm her down. It's good news, actually."

  "All right," my sister nodded without arguing. Her lips curled into a breezy smile. "Have a look—now the Ancients surely won't pass here!"

  We turned around... and then the source of the Blades' merriment became clear. With a small bucket of white paint in one hand, Bonbon was deftly using a brush to autograph the smooth mountain stone with a phrase that was, shall we say, less than proper. Reece was standing nearby, watching carefully. And, despite the phrase being written in an unfamiliar language, it seemed that the mage understood its meaning perfectly well. What noble behavior indeed!

  "Bonbon!" Max addressed the bald warrior in a perfectly serious tone. "Do you seriously think that if the Ancients do pass through here, they're going to be able to read a message written in Russian?"

  Having just finished the third word, Bonbon followed it up with a big fat exclamation mark, then took a few steps back, admiring his art.

  "Don't worry, commander!" he said without turning around, and pointed somewhere to the right. "I also wrote it in English for the especially dense. I reckon they'll get the gist of it!"

  "I give up..." Max sighed, gave a resigned wave of the hand, and went to rejoin his ten around the fire.

  Chapter 3

  "I've been meaning to talk to you, Kan," I reined in my boar, falling in next to the knight-commander's lizard.

  "What about, my prince?" the warrior signaled something to his captain—ostensibly that he wasn't to be disturbed—then turned to me and arched his right brow.

  "Do you remember the origin story of my sword? What it is and how it came to be?"

  "Aye," Kan nodded. "You spoke of a winged god from another world. And now you want to know the location of the ruins where Lars had recovered it?"

  "Yes. My gut is telling me that somewhere there we'll find the answer to stopping this Ancients' invasion," I gestured westward. "After all, what is this sword, exactly? The blood of Lemuria's winged sovereign. Yes, it can breach the titans' defenses, but how do you get close enough to them to strike in the first place? And even if I manage that, how do I make sure they're dead instead of just wounded?"

  I suddenly felt like laughing out loud. Here I was, pontificating about saving the world like some bloody superhero! And not just pontificating—I genuinely felt as if all this was par for the course. But wasn't there anybody else who could handle the strategizing? Wasn't the prophecy enough to occupy my mind? Then again, thinking logically, the Ancients had to be the central element of the prophecy. How else do you explain Max's transformation into a Gray Lion, the appearance of which was directly linked to the giant PITA currently advancing on the Great Forest? As it was, the Wild Wood and all of its inhabitants stood to be wiped out by the Ancients, and Sata had made it very clear that our fates were inseparable from theirs. Now, sure, I could pin my hopes on the slim chance that the sword had found its way into my possession accidentally, or that this realm's gods had grown so strong over the past twenty five hundred years that the awakened Ancients were no match for them, but then why would they fuss over us petty mortals? And then there was that scumbag Vill, who was playing his own game... All of this must be connected somehow, which meant I had to find this Phallet character at any cost. He was the one wild card in this entire situation, and something was telling me that he might not have yet departed to the chambers of that Celestial Dragon of his.

  "I've given that a lot of thought, earl," Kan spoke after a minute of silence. "But I'm afraid there's nothing I can help you with at the moment." The knight-commander cast a contemplative gaze at the mountain at the foot of which our party had pitched camp, then looked back at me, and continued. "It's along Empire's the southern border, somewhere between Nahlle and Ghourkan. We were headed to a rendezvous point to join up with two centuries of Prince Kerat's clibanarii. It was yet another drow raid. The prince paid for our services handsomely, and by then we considered the slaughter of those gray-skinned bastards a matter of principle..."

  "Because of the castle where Altus' woman had perished?"

  "Elsa was loved by all," Kan drew a sigh. It was clear that this trip down memory lane was hardly a pleasant one for him. "She was a cleric... And what a cleric she was. I had never met another one like her." Turning around, he gestured at the knights dismounting behind us. "Most of these warriors owe their lives to her several tim
es over. On four separate occasions she had snatched me from the jaws of the Gray Frontier... But let's not speak of the woeful past. Those ruins were remnants of some stone structure—a hole in the ground and two underground chambers. I remember nothing special about them. And I've seen my fair share of ruins," the knight drew another sigh. "I've asked my men as well—nobody remembers those ruins."

  "Wait, you just said you can't help me at the moment," I dismounted, slapped the boar on the size, and turned to the knight-commander. "Might that change later?"

  "Lars' notes," Kan said. "I'm sure they're still kept in the Order's headquarters. Calterra is a mere day's ride west from the Erantian capital, and we'd be passing through there anyway."

  "Got it. Thanks."

  "Don't thank me yet, earl. But I hope that the situation will clear up after a visit to the HQ." With a nod, the warrior turned his lizard around, and pressed his heels to its sides, steering toward the rest of the party.

  Well, that didn't help much, despite my being pretty desperate for a lead. And yet, we soldier on. The sun was still in the sky, we were surrounded by the same mountains and grassy plains, and the weather was rather pleasant. Most importantly, we were all alive and in one piece...

  We reached the point indicated on the map only in the afternoon of the following day. One would think, what's a measly forty miles on horseback, or our mounts' equivalent thereof? But when all roads suddenly end, and only vague directions remain, movement speed tends to take a big hit. The map indicated steel debris protruding from the ground, which abounded the area. Why the elf had chosen this one specifically, the story wasn't clear on. But what did I care? Max and five more of his mates went out to look for the "package." It didn't make sense for the rest to follow—the mountain was no more than fifty yards high, which meant they would round it in about five minutes, and the System would highlight the quest item for him. And I sincerely hoped that he wouldn't need to excavate the item from the ground to gain possession of it.