Disciples

By David N. Pauly

Elf Queen Aradia remains in Elvalon, forbidden to return to the land of Nostraterra by her patriarchal grandfather.

However, she knows of a terrible, dark presence exists in Nostraterra, and also that the races are bound to wage war against each other soon. Training with the Elven weapons master, she passes the time until her magic is needed again. As darkness begins to infiltrate the lands of Elvalon, Aradia's grandfather must seek her help in trying to find out how the dark magic is getting past their magical defenses.

Meanwhile, Prince Alfrahil, still recovering from the ambush that nearly killed him, is enjoying a false peace with his new lover, Findalas. When new, targeted attacks begin against valuable men of the city, Alfrahil, the king and the first minister are baffled. Findalas suggests that they consult with brother Caedrasp from the Brotherhood of the Cold.

Making a deal that may cost him dearly, Daerahil set out for Tarin Nazar: a keep within the forest realm of the Elves. But can he emerge victorious against an ancient evil of immense power?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Dec 1, 2022

Book preview

Chapter 1

A Hazy Shade Of Forever

‘T ime, Time, Time ,’ she thought, ‘what has become of me ?’

Returning ten thousand years to where she started her incredible journey, Aradia looked out over the quay to the bay of Solana. Another perfect day in paradise; light rain overnight kept the plants fresh and luxuriant. Still, the day had dawned clear with a breeze in the early morning coming off the mountains, and the fragrance of flowers and trees that grew nowhere else in the world greeted her nose with an exquisite perfume.

She stood at the edge of the harbor; the wind freshened out of the east and blew smells of the sea, fish and sea plants, the tang of salt, the breath of life. Hints of the city came her way, with the unique plants that grew there and gave the island its characteristic lovely scent.

Fresh from her meeting with her grandfather, Phaidan, she wanted to clear her head of the conflicting emotions that had fought against her logic and been her undoing. So much for breathing, she thought, but then she smiled when breathing was fundamental to her training and new role. Urging her mind to relax into a primordial breathing exercise, she felt every part of her being involved in the simple task of inhaling and exhaling. Like every aspect of her past fifty years of training in Elven martial arts, the simplest things were the hardest.

Thinking back, she recalled the day she had decided to follow the path of the sword, as Glamrond called it. Dorphin, her brother, had returned from a hunting expedition on the far shores of Elvalon with an oozing slash on his chest. Aradia was still grieving and angry over the loss of Bran two weeks earlier and under severe restrictions from the Elven Council, compelling her to be a serving woman again. She was forbidden to use magic and denied access to other family members except for her brother, who nearly went mad from frustration and boredom. While hating the dirt and discomfort of camping, Aradia had spent the night outside the city at Dorphin's hunting camp, waiting for him to return. In the late morning, she saw him ride up to her, his chest heavily bandaged, his face pale and drawn.

'The tusk from a wild boar,' he said with false jocularity. 'No need to worry, but perhaps one that drank at the Prismatic Fountain.'

Dorphin referred to a wild fountain in the far south of Elvalon that imbued all the different magical elements of the world. Fire and water combined into steam plumes that burst at regular intervals. However, unpredictable gusts of swirling winds were moving the superheated spray spume in a complex dance. Life grew there, vibrant flowers beautiful but deadly; even a deep whiff of their perfume caused unconsciousness for days filled with dark dreams.

Small golden berries were also in abundance, giving euphoria, and influencing chance for those who ate them in small quantities. A series of pools led away from the fountain, the waters clear but capricious, one moment resonating one quality of the world and another. Creatures or Elves who drank the waters usually found the waters unpalatable, but occasionally an animal would drink, and its lifeforce resonated with that of the spring. Eventually growing enormous before their indulgence destroyed them, the creatures could become dangerous and unpredictable.

The traditional healing unguents of the Elves had been of little use, and it was only with the aid of a senior healer and his use of a master crystal that the wound was closing now.

The following day, after her brother was out of danger, Aradia asked, 'Why didn't you simply kill it with your sword? You claim to be a great hunter,' she asked chidingly.

'Great hunter, my dear sister, I am a great hunter despite your tone of boredom and perhaps derision that I detect in your voice. This was an unimaginable ovine, nearly fifteen feet high; even as an Elf, you don't just take it out in one pass with your blade,' said Dorphin.

'Why not?' asked a bemused Aradia. 'It should be a simple matter of acquiring the target and contacting it with your sword.'

'Because it is charging towards you and shaking its head from side to side like one of the elephants that you tell me were present in the last great battles of Nostraterra, that is why not,' said Dorphin. 'Even I have my limitations, but tell me, oh strong-willed sister, I suppose you could do better with a sword than I?'

'Of course,' she said, 'we both come from the house of Phaidan, and if you can fight well with a sword, then so should I.'

Drawing his sword, he bade her come to the front of his tent and, placing it in his left hand, he handed her another sword, and bowing to each other, they began. Aradia's wild sword strokes were such that Dorphin did not even raise his blade, but instead moved his feet, keeping himself just out of range of her attack.

Rapidly tiring and becoming frustrated, she lunged towards him, hoping to wipe that vile smirk from his face; when he finally used his sword in a blur that was difficult to see, he struck her sword from her hand, and it fell, ringing to the ground. Her hand and arm were tingling and numb, and she gazed in helpless anger at her brother's face as she knew that her haughty words had given him the excuse to sting her body with his skill.

'Well played, brother,' she panted, 'well played.'

'You were a poor excuse for an opponent,' he replied with a barb. 'If you had confronted the boar today, I would be trying to visit your spirit in my dreams. Instead, thankfully, you are here. Now, can we have our meal?'

'Yes,' she replied, vowing that this was not how her swordplay would end with Dorphin.

So, it began the next day; Aradia followed her brother to his hunters and seeing that he would not be able to hunt that day until his wound healed, she bade him find her a sword instructor.

'Why?' he asked. 'There are no enemies here for you to slay.'

'Because, as you pointed out less than eloquently yesterday, I am bored. I have been kicking my heels in paradise for one hundred years and nothing happened until my recent catastrophe with Bran. Now, I am only allowed to do the most menial tasks. I have attended feasts with my loved ones,' she said, 'but until two weeks ago, nothing ever happened here; there is no grand strategy in place, no goals to be accomplished. Now with my magic forbidden me, and regarded as a common serving wench again, I am beside myself with futility,' she said.

'Goals to be accomplished?' asked Dorphin, 'What goals could there be to be accomplished?' he repeated with puzzlement. 'You aided and helped create the plan that brought Magnar down. Take satisfaction in the fact that you were able to rid Nostraterra of evil and enjoy your peace in the Blessed Realm.'

'Peace in the Blessed Realm? I was attacked; Bran was killed, and I am not under the influence of that terrible Blue Spectre. We must re-examine our magic to deny that creature access to Elvalon. My experience, as horrible as it was, was an unbelievably valuable learning tool. I will accept my punishment, but my knowledge learned in Nostraterra, and my recent defense of that terrible mind should be used, not banished,' she stated. 'There is extraordinarily little magic left in Nostraterra to resist such a presence; my son, Marcellus' gifts, lie in persuasion and reason, and Emedius, the most ancient of our house still abroad, has martial arts skills only.'

Turning away so he could not see the tears of anger well within her, Aradia thought of Emedius and events long ago. One of the very few of the house of Phaidan, Emedius was the King's nephew, a prince of Elvalon. Long ago, he had fallen in love with Aradia and asked for her hand in trothplight. While admiring and caring for him exceptionally, Aradia did not love him; instead, her passion was given to Justinus, one of the crystal smiths. Unlike others of the royal family who held smiths in mild contempt and disdain, Emedius did not. Unlike other males, he took his rejection with grace and with fortitude, accepting Aradia's choice, though he might have hoped that her choice was different from all of his heart.

He kept his distance after her declaration, pledging his love to her quietly and unrequited. Her son Marcellus was born in Elvalon, the first blending of the houses of Phaidan and Vitreus, a beautiful child with his father's silver hair but his mother's gifts and beauty. Little exceeded his grasp as an infant and soon he reached the stage of a child, and then the gift of persuasion of his voice began to emanate from his person. Few could hear his voice and not rush to obey his every wish and desire. His parents were somewhat immune and could persuade him to do things they asked, even if he did not. Others crowded around the eloquent child and performed his bidding willingly so that he might have grown into one of the mightiest orators in Elvalon but for his mother's insistence upon journeying to Nostraterra.

Dark was that day in all senses, not just literally, and Aradia recalled her grandfather's fallen words as she thought back through the centuries, wondering if she was forever destined to repeat the patterns of her life. Flight and foundation, strength, and sacrifice, building a kingdom, only to watch it fall like a sandcastle before the tide. Each time she had loved someone, they had been taken from her, or she had been forced to let them go. The last unhappy child of the house of Phaidan was compelled to leave Nostraterra, to obey the Air Spirits, but to run from the pain that had consumed her life.

She thought she had broken the curse of Phaidan, educated the lesser races, and preserved lands and realms against the onslaughts of barbarism. Unlike others, her fate was not to fall in battle or to be consumed by the very earth that had given birth to the Elves. Instead, it was the doom of hope. The heartbreak and despair she could suffer and do so willingly was the hope she could not bear. Hope that this time things would be different … she would prevail. Instead, she had been driven forth from all her homes save one, that of Elvalon. This she had left willingly millennia ago, only to return after so much loss and sorrow.

Ten thousand years ago, when their boat was provisioned with supplies, they returned to meet with Vitreus, leader of the crystal makers and Justinus' great uncle, and say goodbye to those of their kindred that had not joined the small fleet of the Greater Elves. Some were left behind, and they were sad that the youngest child of the house of Phaidan was going to leave them in Elvalon. However, the new lands beckoned, and she put aside her doubt and fears, and stepped forward to the prow of their ship, eagerly awaiting the far shore.

Well, did she remember the day that she and Justinus stepped foot onto Nostraterra, and all seemed so fresh, so new, the very air had been breathed by so few creatures that each morning seemed like the first morning of the world. Aradia and Justinus steadily made their way through the Great Forest of Nostraterra. They rested and took counsel with the Lesser Elves before journeying back to a beautiful but uninhabited coastline, founding the city of Phoenicia. Her eyes began to well with unbidden tears as she thought of the love and pain, the hope and heartache that filled her years uncounted—until that last desperate journey brought her back to Elvalon.

Aradia, recovering her composure, turned back to her brother, and said, 'Peace for me is without purpose; even now, I regret my need to come over the sea.'

'Your decision has been made,' he said, 'there is nothing that you can do about it now but accept your fate here in Elvalon and try and be content here.'

'At least I can learn something new,' she said. 'Come, brother. If you do not have the strength to teach me yourself, then ask one of your hunters to do so.'

Shrugging his shoulders, Dorphin asked one of his hunters to begin training his sister, saying, 'If we cannot hunt until I am well, this will at least pass the time until we can.'

Initially, her efforts were laughable, and the hunters had joked that this was the reason that Elven women attended looms, not battlefields. Still, slowly, she grew better until the first day, three months later, she was able to disarm her hunter opponent. From that day forward, the laughter stopped and the admiration began as she increased her skill more rapidly than any other since Emedius.

Ten months later, only Dorphin could defeat her, and they went back and forth every day; neither could devise an advantage over the other.

Panting after their last draw, Dorphin said, 'Peace, sister, for you are now well skilled with the sword, but if you want to be a hunter and ride with my soldiers and me, you must also be skilled in other weapons.'

With that, he gestured for one of his men to give him his bow and set up a target at one hundred paces; he drew and fired three arrows, the first striking the dead center of the target, the others in the air before the first struck home. As soon as the first arrow hit the mark, the others split it from behind.

'That dear sister,' he said with a smile, 'will take even you some time. However, your time to be our servant ended two months ago; you are free to return to the city and the royal apartments. Why are you still here?

'Because at least here there is something that I can learn.'

He extended her hand, giving her his bow and quiver.

Aradia approached and faced the target when she realized that she could not pull the arrow back fully and instead launched her hand from a half pull. Watching the arrow take a lazy arc, which landed short and beside the target, she knew she had much to learn about archery. Later that day, sipping wine, she had to listen to the raucous tale of the hunters as they made more jokes about her archery. Even Aradia had to admit that each attempt was worse than the last, and when the final arrow of twenty had fallen from her nerveless fingers, she had to concede defeat.

She vowed with the sword that she would learn the bow as well. Later on, at the evening meal, one of the hunters began to be too obnoxious even for her incredible patience and rising; she had drawn her sword and asked him if he cared to challenge her skill right then and there. Seeing that he had gone too far and knowing he was no match for her with a sword, he begged her forgiveness and poured a new glass of wine for her.

Slowly sitting down, she accepted his forgiveness and the glass of wine. She caught the bemused look in Dorphin's eyes, which said, 'I told you so.'

The next day, when she approached the archery butts, she had Dorphin's practice bow in her hand and tried again to make several shots but found that they were no better than her previous attempts. Hearing a polite cough, she turned and saw the hunter, Mardel, that had mocked her so willingly the night before. Gazing at him with intensity, she wondered if he would dare mock her again, for her sword was nearby.

Instead, he held out a slender cloth-wrapped package. 'Take this, my lady, as part recompense for my joke at your expense,' said Mardel.

Quizzically, Aradia regarded a slender, unstrung bow shorter and more flexible than her brother's great bow. With an effort, she was able to string it, something that she had not been able to accomplish with her brother's bow. Placing an arrow on the string, she was about to draw and fire when she heard the polite cough again.

'My lady, if you would not mind taking instruction from me, I would be glad to aid you in your desire to be a formidable archer. Your brother is content to let you learn archery on your own for quite some time, and you may benefit from some direction.'

'Indeed, I would be grateful if you would teach me,' she replied.

At that, he moved her only three paces from the butt and bid her strike the target. Her first shot went high and right, but it hit the mark instead of sailing past, as her other attempts had done. Encouraged, she practiced until her arrows came a little closer to the center of the target.

'Well done, my lady, but you are very tense as you draw the arrow; the only tension should be in your arms, and the rest of you should relax. When you release the arrow, you must relax your hand; do not pluck at the string, but let the bow do the work for you,' he explained.

Aradia tried again and found that this time, the arrow struck just outside the center dot on the target.

'Excellent, my lady, you are beginning to understand.' With that, he approached and deftly moved her hands subtly along the bow so that she was more comfortable with her grip, and after several arrows, he adjusted her fingers. Finally, by the end of the day, she could place the arrows within an inch of each other at the center of the target.

'Tomorrow, we will move back a pace,' he said, ‘and we will repeat the exercise.'

So, it went on day after day, week after week, until she could hit the center of the target at a hundred paces. Granted, she had to aim her bow higher than the males did, and the wind was more apt to draw her arrow astray as her velocity was less than the males', but it only made her concentrate harder on reading the environment around her.

Dorphin returned to his camp one day and was amazed at her skill, but to prove his superiority still, he picked up his bow and snapped the three perfect arrows in a hissing blur at the target.

'Well done, sister, but you still have far to go to meet me there.' said Dorphin.

Shaking her head at his stubbornness, Aradia worked harder. The next day, she was puzzled to see Mardel standing back at the ten-paces distance, a mark she had left six months behind. ‘What is this, Mardel? Why are we back here again?' she asked.

'Because today, you will use a stronger bow, and you will find that it will take some getting used to.'

Aradia's shoulders ached with the much stronger bow, but she realized this was still not as strong as her brother's bow. Still, the arrow sped much more quickly and accurately from this bow, and she obediently began to practice.

A year it took before she could use the Elven hunter's bow and fire the arrows at the target three in succession. While she was still not as accurate as her brother, none of his hunters were better than she at the bow now. She could split one of the arrows in the target, and the other arrow was a fraction of an inch off the target's center.

The next day, Mardel arrived carrying a spear and, showing her the points of the weapon, began to train with her with the practice spear.

Many years went by again, and now she was proficient in sword, bow, and spear, the principal weapons of the Elves. Still, this was not enough for her, and she began to find combinations of both bow and spear and sword so that one day she could emulate Emedius' skill on the long march from a burning, besieged Phoenicia.

Speaking her desire aloud to Dorphin, he chuckled. 'There is only one of the Greater Elves that could teach you those things, Glamrond, the weapons master, and if you are ready, I will take you to him tomorrow.'

Aradia knew that Glamrond demanded decades of subservience and blind obedience; he had not allowed a pupil to stay to final graduation for over four hundred years, since Dorphin had left with the rank of junior student. Only Emedius was given the scroll of a senior student, and he remained in Nostraterra.

There, she could resume her secret magical studies in private. Moreover, now when she practiced her form of mediation and whispered the chants of power, she could sense an alien presence looking over her, and she knew that Phaidan would never trust her, and she would be in thrall forever. While the thought of such years daunted her, she also knew that no one, not even Phaidan, would dare spy on her openly once she was Glamrond's student; no one, not even the King of the Elves, would cross the greatest warrior in the land.

The next day, Aradia and Dorphin rode their horses to the home of Glamrond. As they approached his home, a short figure, more stocky and heavyset than the typical Greater Elf, appeared. Dismounting, Dorphin bowed deeply to his former teacher, introducing Aradia.

Acknowledging Dorphin's bow with the slightest bow in return, Glamrond asked, 'Why have you come, queen of the Elves? There are no kingdoms to be won here.'

'No, Glamrond, there are not, only personal goals to be met.'

'What goals are there that I can help you with?' he asked.

'I wish to learn the ways of the sword, the bow, and the spear,' she explained.

'I hear you have learned how to use them well enough; how can I help you?'

'You can teach me what you know,' she replied. 'So that one day I can fight as well as you.'

Chuckling, he said, 'That day may be long in coming if ever, my queen; you do not have the talent or skill to begin such a journey.'

With that remark, she drew her sword in a blur and, with its uttermost tip, cut a trifle of hair from his flowing locks before the sword rose into another attack position.

Blinking for a second, Glamrond was speechless; none had dared attack him in such a fashion for millennia, and even less had learned to hide their intent so that he had not foreseen their attack. Much of his mind had been musing on other thoughts, but that was still little explanation. Bowing slightly, he said, 'Perhaps you are not an unworthy student, my queen; defend yourself.'

His sword came out in a fluid motion barely detectable with her eyes, and the battle began in earnest. Less than a second later, she was defeated, his sword at her throat.

Her eyes on fire, gimlets of darkness flashing in the cerulean depths, Glamrond said, 'Well met, my queen. You have indeed learned some basic techniques elsewhere. I will teach you so long as you agree to obey me exactly in what I ask. The first time that you disagree with me or object to my orders, you return to your royal apartments, agreed?'

Sensing that he thought of getting rid of her quickly and determined to make sure that she stayed and learned from him, she promptly agreed.

'Excellent, it has been hundreds of years since I had a First Student with me. Leave now and return tomorrow at dawn, alone in simple clothes. Bring only your necessities; I will supply all else.'

The next day, Aradia returned alone, and with a small bundle of clothes and her breath flutes concealed, she approached his house and found him waiting there.

'Stable your horse,' he said, 'and place your bundle in the first room on the right; it will be your room so long as you stay here with me.'

Fulfilling his first command, she returned to face him, and he said, 'Excellent, we shall begin with you cleaning my house.'

Opening her mouth to complain, Aradia caught herself remembering his words of the previous day. Entering his dwelling, she found it a shambles, and straightened things as she went; she found cleaning supplies in a disused closet and spent the morning cleaning. Nearing nuncheon, Glamrond commanded her to make lunch for them and then to resume her cleaning.

She was exhausted, and her dignity was in shreds, forced to clean and scrub the floors like an ordinary servant.

The next day, Glamrond told her to continue cleaning until the house was spotless. After a week, she was convinced that the house was clean, and Glamrond walked around to inspect it. Pulling a white handkerchief from his robes, he gently wiped it along the top of a closet door, and seeing the dust there, he handed it to her, and bade her return to her duties.

The next day she cleaned more thoroughly, trying to find the hidden dirt that his house contained. He refused to inspect the home until the end of the following week, when he found dust under the same closet door he had reviewed last week. Furious and frustrated, Aradia was about to quit when her brother appeared on a horse to speak with her.

'Hail sister and well met; how