“Did he explain the reason for any of it?” Faylen pursued.
“No, but I would say he succeeded, otherwise that bolt would have killed us. And there were the glyphs etched into the walls. They were definitely responding to whatever spells he gleaned from that book.”
“Book?” Aenwyn questioned.
“It was on the floor - ancient by the look of it.”
Faylen sighed in frustration. “The truth of it all eludes us.”
“What abou’ ye, lad?” Doran asked. “Ye were hit by the same spell as Alijah. Do ye feel any… different?”
Galanör clenched his fist and examined his knuckles. “No,” he answered. “I feel stretched out but no different.”
Doran shrugged his heavy pauldrons. “Maybe he failed then,” the dwarf posed.
Galanör didn’t look convinced. “As Faylen said, I fear the truth of the matter continues to elude us.” The elven ranger perked up, as if remembering something. “What of the others? Has there been word from The Black Wood or The Arid Lands?”
Faylen subconsciously touched the diviner on her belt. “I have spoken with our allies in The Black Wood, though even they were in need of answers. It seems Nathaniel and Kassian returned with both Asher and Vighon shortly before Inara and Athis returned—”
“With Gideon?” Galanör blurted, a dash of hope in his eyes.
“It appears not,” Faylen reported on a sombre note. “Unfortunately, they all left again soon after arriving.”
Doran was already shaking his head, aware of the reasons for their swift departure.
“Where did they go?” Galanör pressed.
Faylen acknowledged Doran’s response but made no comment on it. “Vighon accompanied Nathaniel and Kassian and journeyed to Namdhor. Apparently they went in search of the sword of the north. Inara and Asher left with the Drake, Adan’Karth. They were seen flying west, but I’m afraid no one knew where they were going.”
Now Galanör was shaking his head. “They went to the most dangerous city in the realm to find Vighon’s sword?” His tone suggested he was in agreement with Doran.
“The exact reasons for their separate errands remain a mystery to us,” Faylen went on. “That said, I have had them dispatch a rider to Namdhor disguised as a merchant. They will seek them out and hopefully deliver the diviner so that we might coordinate our efforts.”
“We could ’ave used every one o’ ’em on Qamnaran,” Doran complained. “They better ’ave damn good answers for dallyin’ abou’.”
Galanör rested his back against the chair, his sight lost to seemingly nothing at all. “Whatever their task, I trust they had The Rebellion’s cause at heart. Each of them has the capacity to deliver a terrible blow to our enemy.” The elf stopped himself and rubbed his eyes, his fatigue shining through. “What of Sir Ruban and our allies in the south?” he asked, pushing on.
“Sir Ruban has had better luck than all of us,” Faylen began with a lighter tone. “He has amassed quite the force in The Arid Lands, both natives and those of Vighon’s army who fled south. As of two days ago, he was posted just outside Calmardra having combined his forces with the remains of our fleet.”
“They made it?” Galanör looked to have found a new reserve of energy.
“Yes,” Faylen beamed. “My husband, Nemir, is among them.”
“Now that is great news,” Galanör replied.
“Besides the Reavers under Alijah’s command,” the High Guardian continued, “I would say Sir Ruban Dardaris is in charge of the largest force in Illian right now.”
“Their orders?” Galanör asked.
“Sit on their arse!” Doran growled.
Faylen’s eyes shifted to the dwarf and back. “They are to remain where they are until we can speak to Vighon or Inara,” she specified. “We know Alijah and Malliath survived the events of Qamnaran, but we have no idea where they are. There’s also Vilyra and Gondrith to account for. Both have dragons and neither have been seen for days. I don’t want our largest force to be moving aimlessly across the country with undead Dragon Riders somewhere in the sky.”
“I told ye in The Narrows an’ I’ll tell ye again, we need to attack the dig site in The Moonlit Plains! It’s not even that far north o’ ’ere!”
The High Guardian straightened her shoulders. “We have discussed this, Doran—”
“There are even more dwarves in chains there than there were on Qamnaran!” he cut in. “Listen,” he continued, raising his hands into the air. “I’m glad Vighon’s back in the fight, but we were makin’ battle plans after he disappeared. This is no different! Ye command the elves, Faylen. If they march for the plains, Sir Ruban an’ his men will accompany ’em.”
Faylen turned her whole body to face the War Mason. “Doran,” she began. “I want to free all those dwarves just as you do and, for what it’s worth, I think attacking the dig site is the right course of action. But the realm is a big place and right now we have no idea what’s going on out there. Vighon is king of these lands and Inara is its proclaimed guardian. It would be folly to make our move without speaking to either of them.”
Doran wanted to fume but he could see the truth in her words. Faylen was eager to free his kin and undo whatever evil Alijah was scheming in the plains. He could also see the wisdom in her strategy.
“Faylen is right,” Galanör added. “We don’t know what’s going on out there. And what we do know troubles me. Alijah’s first act as king was to have your kin begin digging that hole - he values it. If we are to attack it, we should do so with a coordinated effort.”
Doran dropped his head and rubbed his brow. “I’m not good at waitin’,” he confessed. “But damned if I don’ agree with ye both.” He looked up and met each of their eyes in turn. “We wait.”
“We rest,” Aenwyn corrected, directing their attention to Galanör.
Faylen stood up first and paused to squeeze Galanör’s hand. “It is good to have you back with us,” she said sincerely. Whatever she said next was in
