Eranithia: Prophecies: Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Mark and Jennifer retreated into the Great Hall with Arland as Garandol stayed by the large entrance doors. Mark looked back, wondering why Garandol was just standing there as the king's men drew closer.

"What's he doing?" he asked frantically.

"Don't worry about Garandol. He can handle himself," Arland said, ushering them into the room.

Arland shut the door behind them, leaving it cracked open so they could see what was happening. A large bird flew into the Entrance Hall, perching itself upon Garandol's arm. Garandol slid a piece of paper into the bird's talons, then sent it away. Mark recognized the bird as Arrow, Garandol's hawk.

Mark watched with the others as Garandol raised his arms, holding his staff in his right hand, pointing it at the doors and shouting something he couldn't understand. All the noise from Timberfoot's roaring battle cries drowned out his words. But as soon as Garandol finished whatever it was he was shouting, the large entrance doors slammed shut and he ran to join them in the Great Hall.

"Follow me," he said. "They won't be able to get in even if they find the door."

He led them back through the Entrance Hall, then into the northern hall. It felt much cooler than the rest of the city because of a soft, constant breeze blowing at their faces.

Suddenly the earth shook, stopping them in their tracks. Timberfoot must have fallen in battle, dying to protect them. Mark wanted to go back and fight the soldiers who had killed their new friend, but Arland grabbed him by the shoulders, stopping him.

"There's nothing we can do for him now,” Arland whispered softly.

“Yes, we have to continue or he will have fallen in vain," Garandol said, then continued on down the tunnel-like hallway.

Arland nodded his head to the side, gesturing toward his sister. Mark saw Jennifer holding back tears. He resolved that he had to be strong for her. She'd been the one who'd stopped Garandol and Arland's attacks on the kind but fierce giant. She had just as much attachment to Timberfoot as he did.

Mark took Jennifer's hand, leading her further down the hall. They had to keep moving. Arland was right; there was nothing they could do for Timberfoot now.

The passage was more like a cave than a hallway, with short steps leading them further below the mountain. It wound further and further down, and the further down they went the colder it got.

As they hurried down the steps, Mark noticed a steady noise in the distance. The noise grew noticeably louder every few yards. It was like the sound of static on a television, but turned down low.

Distracted by his thoughts about what the noise could be, Mark stumbled forward, missing a step. Arland grabbed his shirt to hold him up from taking Jennifer down with him.

He looked back at Arland and said, “Thanks.”

“You're welcome. Don't you wish the steps were just a bit larger?” Arland asked.

“Yeah,” he said with a laugh.

Arland was right, the steps were just the wrong size to be able to take them two at a time but they were too small to take them one at a time comfortably. After a few minutes of traveling down the steps, Mark was thinking that they would never end! Just when he thought they finally were near the end, they would take another turn. At one point they started to go back uphill again! Then they dropped downhill yet again.

The noise in the distance grew steadily louder and was soon deafening. Mark couldn't even hear their footsteps anymore. The volume of the noise had to mean they were near the end. Just as that thought crossed his mind, they reached the bottom and found themselves in a wide open cave with a rushing river. It was heading north like the one outside the Entrance Hall.

Mark looked back at the stairs in the hallway, or tunnel, they'd come out of. To the left was the river, fed by a waterfall about a hundred yards away from them. He couldn't see where the start of the waterfall was, but the portion he couldsee was about twenty feet high. Its roar was so loud Mark wondered if he'd be able to hear anybody speak.

Garandol led them along the river. Mark didn't know how there was light, but the cave wasn't completely dark. It was as if there was a natural, or unnatural, light in the room. The light didn't come from a single source; it just existed.

Thinking he heard something, Mark looked back just in time to see Jennifer fall. Arland hadn't heard her, but as Mark ran past him, he saw Jennifer on the ground. She was sitting up, holding her ankle by the time Mark reached her.

"You okay?" Mark asked.

"Yeah, I turned my ankle on something," she said, massaging her ankle.

Mark looked for what she may have tripped on and found a skeleton. The skeleton of a short man no more than four feet tall. Jennifer screamed, throwing her arms around Mark's neck. He helped her to her feet.

Just beyond the skeleton lay the skin of a large snake. Sixty feet long and about three feet thick.

"Tharoth," Garandol said, walking up to them from behind.

Mark and Jennifer looked at Garandol. Saying a name wasn't going to be enough of an explanation for them.

"Certainly you're not saying Tharoth is real?" Arland asked with skepticism as he looked at Garandol like he was crazy.

"Why shouldn't she be?" Garandol asked, returning the Elf's look with a stern one.

"She's just a legend. Something mothers tell their children to warn them to be good. Mind your manners or Tharoth, the great snake queen, will come for you!" he said with a laugh.

"All legends start with some kind of truth."

"She would be six hundred years old then."

"That would explain her size then, wouldn't it?" Garandol said, pointing at the snake skin. "If it's not Tharoth, it's her offspring, and either way, we can't stay here long unless we want to become the next meal."

He turned and they followed, Jennifer hobbling along with her arm around Mark until she regained full use of her foot. It only took a few yards before she was able to put her weight on it again and walk with a slight limp. Luckily this time it was just a turned ankle.

They headed for the dock that had been about two hundred yards from the tunnel exit. When they stepped onto the dock, Arland stopped Jennifer. Then, kneeling down, he touched her ankle. Mark couldn't tell what he was doing but he saw the flirtatious smile Jennifer gave him as he looked up at her.

Mark turned away, rolling his eyes. He was trying his best not to be so protective of her, but her actions seemed to contradict her words. That's what bothered him most, or so he told himself. Mark was more against the idea that he was a few decades older than his sister and he was encouraging her flirting. With a deep sigh he followed Garandol onto the dock.

Garandol was waiting for him at the second of three sleeves the small boats were tied to. Mark followed him to the boat but waited for Arland and Jennifer to pass. Grabbing her arm, she stopped, spinning and wrenching her arm away from his grasp.

"What?" she asked angrily.

"Isn't he a little old for you?" he whispered.

Rolling her eyes, she walked away from him. Mark watched as Arland helped her step into the boat before untying it.

“Mark, can you untie the last rope there before you climb in?” Garandol asked, interrupting his spying.

He turned to Garandol, unsure whether he'd actually heard him or not. Then he looked down and saw the rope tied to the bow. He untied it before stepping into the boat, then Garandol handed him a paddle. Together they pushed off from the dock and paddled out to the middle of the river.

They followed the river for a couple of hours until Garandol directed them to a rocky shore. When the boat scraped the bottom, Mark and Garandol hopped out, landing in shallow water. Then they pulled the boats close to the shore and tied them to a heavy rock. Mark looked over his shoulder to see Arland and Jennifer doing the same.

Garandol built a wood-less fire to keep them warm. The air was very cold along the river.

After a few minutes, Garandol produced a sack of meat and tossed it to Arland. Arland nodded, then left to find a flat stone to cook meat on over the fire.

"Get up, Mark," Garandol said.

Looking up at Garandol, confused, Mark felt the need to ready himself to fight.

Garandol pointed his staff at some stones, then closing his eyes as he muttered a spell. A few rocks gathered in the air then crashed together, shattering to pebbles and dust. But the dust and pebbles didn't fall back to the ground. Instead they gathered, fusing themselves together to form a sword of stone. It flew into Garandol's hand as Garandol sent his staff flying towards the fire, where it stuck itself in the ground next to Jennifer.

"Your training begins now," Garandol said, raising his stone sword and rushing at Mark. Mark pulled out his sword and blocked quicker than either of them was expecting.

"Good," Garandol said.

Mark backed away, twirling his sword as he waited for another attack. Garandol moved much quicker than before. Of course, Mark was forgetting that Garandol was considered a young wizard at merely two hundred years old.

Mark wasn't sure if Garandol was giving him everything he had or not. But it was certainly more than he was ready for. He wouldn't let himself back down or give up, though. He came back at Garandol with all the energy he could muster.

After a few minutes of blocking Garandol's attacks, Mark felt he couldn't lift his arms anymore. This was much different than his training sessions back home with his friends. There he was the expert, not the trainee. His friends had never given him the challenge Garandol had presented. Garandol seemed to pick up on his exhaustion so he stopped his advances.

"Well done, Mark. Well done. Now, I am not an expert swordsman. I typically rely on my mind and prayers in battle. Arland, however, is an accomplished swordsman. He will pick up the training when there is nothing else I can teach you."

“Did you say prayers?” Mark asked.

“I did,” Garandol said, dropping his stone sword. As the sword fell to the rocky bed, it split apart and reformed into the rocks it had been before Garandol made them a sword.

“You mean, when you're muttering things you're not casting spells?”

“Spells? You mean like magic?”

“You are a wizard. Aren't you?”

Garandol smiled, understanding what Mark meant. Garandol grasped his shoulder and said, “Come, sit with me, Mark. I obviously need to teach you some things.”

Garandol led him to a grouping of large rocks and boulders at the river's edge. There they each took a seat on a separate stone, facing each other.

“First and foremost, there is no such thing as magic. Only powers from either Sol or Turmna, Queen of Underworld. Good and evil. Things I do that may seem like they were done with magic are not. Conjuring up materials out of nowhere is merely a special ability Sol gave me. Much like your speed and strength. It's not magic. He gave me this ability because He knew I would always be traveling, and if I didn't have to carry those materials, I could travel much easier.”

Mark stared back at the old man. Everything Garandol was telling him went against what he knew to be true from the books he'd read growing up. He knew they were only fantasy, but so far, all he'd seen in Eranithia matched up with what he had read in books. All but this.

“I am called 'wizard' because the word wizard in Eranithia comes from the term, 'wise one.' The wizards you've read about in the books from your world are not real wizards. You know this. I, on the other hand, am a real wizard. What you assumed to be spells were prayers to Sol.

“That first night we spent in the woods after I broke you from prison I waved my staff and said prayers for Sol to guard us. His Spirit is everywhere as a helper. I merely asked for His protection, and He granted it to us. He could have refused, but He chose to help us.”

Mark didn't know what to say. He stared at the river as if it would give him answers or comfort from the betrayal he was feeling. There was no way getting around the fact that he had to accept that Eranithia wasn't any more magical than the world he'd grown up in. Not in the literal sense anyway. It may be magical in the way of how it made him feel and helped him realize his own abilities. He wondered if he really had the speed and strength in that world as he did in Eranithia. If he'd known about these abilities sooner, maybe he would have stood up for himself better and, therefore, been more accepted.

“Many times fictional stories are a distortion of a reality. They can be entertaining, but they are never to be taken literally. Truth can be explained through stories, but the stories themselves are merely illustrations to explain that truth.”

“I guess I've always taken the things I've read a little too seriously. Or at least hoped they could be more real.”

Garandol gave him a warm smile as he said, “It happens to anyone with a strong imagination and a strong mind.”

Garandol then looked over at Jennifer about twenty yards away, “Speaking of strong minds.”

Mark looked behind him at where Garandol was looking to see his sister. Then he looked back at Garandol and asked, "Jennifer? Is there something special about her?”

"She too has a strong mind, but you don't need to worry about her. All you should be concerned about is developing your own skills. I will be training her as well, but for now Arland will teach her the basics. I think there may be more that I can teach her than he can."

Mark wasn't sure what he meant by this, but he felt he should leave the matter alone. Surprisingly, Garandol gave an explanation.

Garandol seemed to be thinking out loud as he said, “There's something special about that mind of hers. I just can't put my finger on it.”

“What?”

Garandol stared at Jennifer from where they sat. Studying her.

Mark looked over at her out of curiosity. She had moved closer to the river, sitting on the large stone they'd tied the boats to; hugging her knees to her chest as she stared at the water flowing past. Something in Mark stirred him to talk to her, so he dropped down from the boulder and walked over to her.

“Hey, sis,” he said sitting next to her on the stone.

Jennifer looked at him startled then said, “Hey.” Then she looked back at the peaceful river.

“What's on your mind?” he probed.

“Nothing.”

Mark stared at her. She didn't look sad, but rather angry. However, her eyes looked like they may spill out tears soon.

“Talk to me, sis. What's going on?”

She turned her head away to avoid looking at him. He put his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer, in hopes to comfort her. But she jerked her shoulders away from him. His heart shattered like the rocks Garandol shattered to form a sword. Only his heart wasn't gathering together to form a sword.

Mark got up to walk away, but stopped after a couple of steps, turning towards her again. He opened his mouth to speak but decided against it. Instead he walked away, leaving her to sulk.

When he returned, Arland tossed him a piece of meat. It was hot, but he didn't seem to notice it searing his skin. Instead he ate it quickly. He recognized the meat as more of the deer meat from the night before. Then exhaustion from the day's events washed over him.

While he cooked, Arland had cleared rocks from a few places so they could at least have a flat surface of dirt to sleep on. So as soon as Mark finished eating he laid down to fall asleep. But first he prayed silently to Sol for Jennifer. He didn't know why she was so upset.