Soul Fire

Soul Fire - Chapter 36

"Are you ready to go, Dathion?"

Malithas gently shook the prince awake with his hands as well as his words.

"Mmhmm."

Dathion murmured his answer, before slithering into a position of greater comfort and returning to sleep.

The metal boot of Malithas asked the question next, as assertive as it was insistent. So too, was the cup of cold water Malithas emptied onto Dathion's head and improvised pillow.

He bolted awake and upright, not fully aware of his surroundings, the dining hall that surrounded him reminding him of where he was.

"Are you ready, Dathion?"

This time he really heard Malithas's words, shaking the water from his hair, then scrambling to gather his blankets and return them to his pack.

"Of course."

"Are you sure?"

Dathion's hands froze as Malithas waited for his answer. Of course he wasn't ready, no one could be. The Elves - greatest mystery of the lands. They were said to be as beautiful as they were noble - as untouchable as they were secretive. The trees of their forest were the oldest in all the lands and the Elves even older. At the beginning of summer, several of their number had journeyed to the palace of Asillia. Only King Beregran had given them audience, none other privy to the purpose of their visit. Away from the scrutiny of mankind, they had dwelled alone for all living memory, rarely seen outside their forests, as though somehow bound to their realm. For them, Dathion bore a scroll from his father, but one not written in the Asillian tongue.

Ready? For the Elves?

Dathion was terrified.

"Your eyes suggest that your words are lies."

Dathion nodded, before strapping the Sword of Llanos to his waist. He wondered if the blade could somehow think and feel. Was it punishing him? Did it consider him to be unworthy?

He wouldn't blame the sword if it did. He was still too impulsive and maybe the artifact sensed that. It had heeded his call in the mountains, back when Dathion hadn't known it was the Sword of Llanos that he held. The golden fire of the blade had annihilated his foes and broken whatever dark powers they wielded. Even the Cerds had been unwilling to oppose the enemies that Dathion and his blade vanquished. However, since then, the Sword of Llanos had slumbered. Did Dathion no longer hold the key to unlock the might of his legendary weapon?

Salidon clapped Dathion on the shoulder as he strode past, carrying packs out to the horses.

"Come on, Sunshine. Your namesake has already illuminated the sky for a good part of the morning. We are almost ready to leave."

It did not take them much longer to prepare, Dathion having been the last to wake.

Outside the hall, the horses had been arrayed, though they would not be ridden. The journey to the forest eaves was short, and the maze of trees provided no true path. It would be easier to guide the horses by hand. Also, moving on foot showed respect to Gergan and Shanisha, who had not brought mounts. Gergan's wolves were back on their chains and bound to his wrists, the enormous animals showing the same patience and discipline as Asillian horses. They sat patiently while they waited, stature proud, and eyes and ears as alert as Shanisha's.

"Finally, boy. I thought you had either succumbed to your wounds, or were afraid of light."

His words were gruff but the tone kind. Gergan welcomed Dathion with a playful grin while Shanisha crossed the small distance to stand at his side. Thankfully, the formalities had already been attended to by Malithas and Salidon, with just a small group of villagers gathered to wave their goodbyes and express their thanks one last time.