Galoren walked up the river. He stopped a hundred meters away from where the riders where hit by the mud spell. He beckoned the others to follow. When they were all there, Galoren raised his cane and touched the air. The air seemed to dissolve as it revealed a wall of light. Galoren raised his hand and said, “Irilea paecifici”
A voice answered, “Numea yearsel et speaket wordo irilea.”
Faragon was puzzled. He did not understand the words that the voice had said. Clearly, it was the same language that made up spells, but he could not grasp their meaning. Galoren saw his confusion and said to him, “My boy, the voice said that we name ourselves and speak the word of magic. Iam Galoren illuminae. Mya caeponae Kingsley, Daren et Faragon. Thae wordo irilea isse Irilea.”
“Welecid, Galoren. Maya thea illuminae Valernor yu weatcr.”
Faragon asked, “What is that language?”
Galoren said, “Elven. And before you ask, I said: ‘I am Galoren the Illuminae and my companions are Kingsley, Daren and Faragon. The word of magic is Irilea’, and the voice said: ‘Welcome, Galoren. May the light of Valernor watch you’. Any more questions?”
“No.”
“Good. Now everyone, it is safe to enter now.”
They watched as Galoren entered the light. They all hesitated but they were convinced that it was indeed safe when Galoren’s hand appeared and beckoned them to go in. The light blinded Faragon for a second and it took his eyes another second to adjust. He found himself on an island not far away from the rivers edge. In front of him stood a house made of white marble. The design of the house was intricate, as if the stone was flowing. Faragon realized that the design was elven. The four walked up a short flight of stairs and entered the open-air patio. Galoren knocked on the wooden door.
A voice said, “Is that you, Galoren?”
“It is Eaglor. Unlock the door.”
“What is the name if your sword?” asked the voice.
“Teriaon”, answered Galoren.
“It is indeed. Welcome back, Galoren. Irilea ope!”
As the spell was cast, the sides of the door glowed and the clicking of gears and grinding of locks were heard. Galoren pushed open the door.
The inside of the house was as beautiful as the outside. Runes decorated the walls and the windows were made from glazed glass. Inside were four ‘people’ sitting on wooden chairs. Two of them were elves and the others were dwarves. Galoren said, “I’m sorry for the delay. The riders were persistent.”
An elf said, “We understand. Times as troubled as this may lead to certain mishaps in our schedule.”
A dwarf then said, “Everyone sit. Help yourselves to those bread rolls. Master Eaglor bakes the finest pastries we have ever tasted.”
The same elf said, “You flatter me with your comments, Sir Renvin. My bread tastes the same as ordinary bread.”
Galoren interrupted them, “The oven here was hewed by a dwarf, Renvin. That is why those pastries taste delicious. Everyone, I would like you to meet Kingsley, Daren, and Faragon.”
“So this is the reputed Kingsley of the rangers. An honor to meet you. You do know that you're one of the few men in the Arogarian court who is still ‘sane’”, said the dwarf.
Galoren turned to the three men and said, “This is Eaglor”, Galoren pointed to the elf wearing a tunic and an apron, “I can assure you that even though he is a great baker, he is one of the members of the elven High Council and their most powerful feria elemenor.”
YOU ARE READING
Sword and Crown I - Beginning
FantasíaFaragon never thought of himself as a hero... He was a hunter, a son, a survivor. However, he has dark past that would not cease to hound him. His world is in an age of tumult, and chaos. And a dead evil is stirring in the dark... Soon, Faragon is...
