SALVATION FOR THE FALLEN Chapter 10

Deamon broke the silence that had accompanied them from the glen through the woods. They both seemed deep in their own thoughts. Deamon’s thoughts were of his concern for Larien and Larien’s thoughts were with the upcoming meeting and the Castle Angels. Deamon spoke softly so he wouldn’t interrupt the natural noises of the night or alert anyone that might be hiding in wait for them, “I will walk you to your front door.”

“Thank you, Mark, but you don’t need to do that. There are a few things I have to gather before I go to the Council Chamber. I can meet you there,” Larien replied softly. Deamon halted their forward movement with a staying hand on her forearm. His voice was quite emphatic in his response to her, his blue eyes direct and piercing, and his voice rising slightly in strength and pitch. “No, I will walk you to the door and I will wait for you.”

Larien turned her head quickly to look at Deamon after he delivered his ultimatum. He rarely spoke to her in that tone of voice. Either he was extremely concerned about the upcoming meeting or there was something else on his mind. Deamon certainly was acting strange. He always had taken great care of her and her well-being but he seemed especially fixated on it tonight.

She debated quizzing him further when they came in sight of her home. As they approached, he held out his hand for the key to the side garden door. She sighed, resigned. As she placed the key in his hand, Larien noticed that Deamon’s eyes were scanning the distance from the woods to her gate. He seemed extraordinarily alert and at the ready. Deamon now had that air about him that she had long learned not to question. It was THIS Deamon that made him successful as the Master of Whispers and helped him extract information from less willing people. It was best to do his bidding when he was in this mood. However, his actions and precautions were causing her to feel uneasy. As he opened the gate, Deamon noticed that it did not squeak like it did earlier in the evening and that he had to actually use the key and not just jiggle it opened. If he thought his senses were keen before, they were now on full blown high alert! Someone either was here or had been here!

He didn’t want to alarm Larien anymore than he already had with his insistence on getting her key. So, as he returned the key to her, he kept his voice low and steady. “Here’s your key back, dear. Please make sure you always keep it in a safe place and keep this door closed and locked at all times even if you are in the house.”

“Okay, Deamon, as you wish,” was Larien’s only response as she took it back and put it into her skirt pocket.

He wanted to be ready just in case there was an ambush set-up so his right hand slowly went to his sword’s hilt resting at his left hip. Deamon wanted to push her behind him but knew that was not going to be a valid option. He didn’t want to alert her to specific danger until he found the source. Besides, she did not have any of her weapons with her, so she was not prepared to defend herself. Her sword was most likely hanging on the peg by the door along with the dagger hidden in the belt. Larien also had not worn her boots to the glen so she didn’t have the dagger from there either. He really must convince her to change that habit of going to the glen without any weapons, but he will save that for another time and discussion. For now, he needed to concentrate on the problem at hand. His eyes scanned her garden for potential hiding places, trying to use the moonlight to look into the shadows of the house and trees. He sniffed the air to see if there were any tell-tale smells that shouldn’t be there, like smoke or an unusual fragrance. Nothing!

Larien sensed the new behavior change in Deamon but she still didn’t know why. He seemed to be more protective of her since coming back from the glen. They had come back from walks many times and he had never asked for the gate key upon their returns. So, why now? And, she saw his hand move to his sword as if he might have need of it. This was her home. Why was he acting like this? It was times like this that she really wished she could read his thoughts. As soon as this realization came to her, another followed swiftly on its heels. She stiffened. Larien hurried a glance at Deamon’s face, now sensing just how alert and at the ready he had actually become. She closed her eyes, tuning into the thought waves that were coming toward her.

It was just at that moment that Deamon caught the slightest movement in the shadow of the tree closest to the front door. His arm shot out and stopped Larien’s forward movement and he tried to put her behind him as he placed his body between the potential danger and Larien. Maudit! He sensed that Larien was about to speak and he hissed under his breath, “Sshhh…say nothing!”

Again, Larien’s eyes shot to Demon’s face. After seeing where he was looking, she too turned her gaze to the front of the house. The person came out further from the shadows, making his silhouette noticeable in the moonlight. Because the moon was at his back, neither Larien nor Deamon could make out the facial features of the intruder standing before them. Deamon was pulling his blade free of its sheath when Larien gave an excited yell and broke free from Deamon’s clinching fingers. She ran towards the shadowy figure.

“Larien, come back – NOW!” Deamon raised his voice in command and grabbed again at her arm with his left hand but Larien shrugged him off and continued towards the house. As the figure came into full view in the moonlight, he increased his pace to get to her side, his sword in hand, his eyes dark with fury, ready to defend Larien’s life.

Deamon quickly covered the distance between the two of them but not before Larien threw herself into the arms of the waiting stranger, squealing, “FINN!! You came!”

Deamon’s forward movement almost thrust his sword into Finn. “Finn Arcamenel? Maudit, is that really you? Why did you have to hide like that? Mon dieu! Didn’t you know the danger you were in?” Deamon questioned sternly. His heart pounded in his chest as he put his sword back in its sheath.

Finn chuckled, “Sorry, old man, but I thought Larien would tell you that I was coming here so I didn’t think about making my presence more obvious.” Finn had his arm wrapped around his sister’s waist as he turned his head to look at Deamon. “She told me that she needed me to come to her immediately. I think you were in the glen at the time so I figured I’d beat you back to the house.” Finn had a little devilish smile as he continued, “Oh, and Deamon, I was the one who fixed the side gate door. I knew you were worried about it and I had a bit of time waiting for you to come home. The squeak is greased and I got the lock to working again. Hope you don’t mind.” He delivered the last of his message with a pointed look. Deamon knew by Finn’s look that Finn knew of the danger to Larien’s life. He still didn’t have the ability to block Finn from reading his mind. One day, he hoped that he would but not at the present time.

“No, not at all. We are all going to be busy over the next few days so that is one less worry on my mind.” Deamon extended his right hand to Finn. “I’m glad you are here. We were just stopping so Larien could get a few things on our way to the Council Chambers. Larien will be calling a meeting and it’s important that you are there as a representative for the Elves.” Finn grasped Deamon’s hand with a firm shake, his eyes looking into Deamon’s. Finn gave a slight nod in acknowledgment that he knew of additional dangers and that those dangers pertained to Larien. Finn would wait to discuss it with Deamon when she wasn’t around.

“Before coming here I also sent a messenger to the Dwarven Council for Tuls since I knew that time was of the essence. He will be meeting us in the chambers shortly. So, I understand there are three advancing armies of thousands and they have orcs with them. You know that this is going to require finesse and timing.” Finn looked down at Larien and then at Deamon. Both nodded their heads.

Larien spoke, “Yes, we are very aware of the seriousness of what is about to unfold. I am glad that you are here to assist the Angels, Finn. With having to defend just about the whole of the castle, we will have need of every able bodied warrior, both from the elves and dwarves. Unfortunately, we do not have time to send word to any surrounding towns for their assistance. The signal fires can be lit, but I cannot wait for any answering replies. We do not have time to wait for that. If we get reinforcements, it will be a bonus. The Angels have to plan on this battle as if we are the only ones available to fight the advancing armies.”

Larien, still being held by Finn, pulled away from her brother’s embrace and said over her shoulder as she walked up to the house door, “I’ll be right back. I just want to put these clothes in the house and get my bag and parchments about the castle grounds. Then we should be able to go.” She took her key out and opened the front door. Finn walked to the front left corner of the house so that he and Deamon could talk quietly without the chance of Larien overhearing what they had to say.

“So what did your informant say exactly, Deamon? And, more importantly, is he trustworthy with his information?” Finn questioned.

“All he said was that he was told by one of the high ranking army members that they were not to touch Larien. They were to keep away from her and she was to be dealt with by a high ranking commander. The problem was that he didn’t give that person’s name, or his description, or which army he is in, just “high ranking commander”.” Deamon looked towards the front door to see if Larien was coming back before he continued, “He also did not know how they were going to kill her. I tried several different methods to see if he really knew but he just wasn’t telling me. It seems that he, ah, really didn’t know.” Deamon continued as he looked at Finn intently, “Larien never told me the specifics of just what special protection she has and I’ve never had a real reason to ask her before. I just assumed, or at least hoped, that this day would never come! If I ask her now, Larien might become suspicious of the reason I was asking especially after nearly running you through with my sword! I still cannot imagine anyone having a grudge against her sooo badly that they would want her dead!” Finn could hear the frustration in Deamon’s voice as he continued, “I just don’t understand! The Angels only fight for their personal protection. We do not seek out wars nor do we hanker after others’ lands. Your being here tonight just showed how vulnerable Larien can be even in her own house and grounds. Please, Finn, any light you can shed on just what her protection is can help me. I don’t like that I have no more information than that and the fact that she has never shared it with me before today.”

Finn shifted his weight and answered in a questioning tone of his own, “Truly, you really don’t know what protects her?” Deamon shook his head no as he passed his gloved hand across his face in frustration.

“Would I be standing here wasting both of our time if I knew, Finn?”

As soon as Finn took a breath to answer Deamon, both men heard Larien rattle the door handle as she crossed the threshold and started closing the door behind her. “I’m ready to leave,” Larien called out to the men. She was carrying her satchel filled with rolled papers of the castle layout. As Larien reached Deamon, he took them from her as he and Finn walked on either side of her down the path and out the gate. Finn closed and locked the gate securely behind them all; testing it to make sure it had latched properly.

They were going to walk the relatively short distance to the tavern so they could let Carl, Duke of Morridin, know of the emergency meeting. Larien was also hoping to find Zigaroth there. That would mean that they would only need to send a courier for King Sylvain. Finn already said that he had sent word for Tuls to meet them there. So with Sylvain, Zigaroth, Carl, Deamon, Finn, Tuls and herself, that completed the mental list of those needed at the Council meeting and ensured all key areas would be represented for the upcoming battle strategy. Larien was still contemplating bringing Caro into the meeting for her blacksmithing skills and Susana for her building prowess. Perhaps if they were at the tavern, Larien could just let them know that they might be needed in the meeting as well and have the ladies be prepared if a courier came for them. Larien was still wrapped up in her thoughts as they rounded the corner to the street where the tavern sat, Deamon a bit ahead of her and Finn walking behind.

created originally 6 September 2011

SALVATION FOR THE FALLEN Chapter 9

He already knew that Larien was not at the tavern since he had just been there talking with Earnest and Carl. Neither one of the men had seen Larien at all today. As he was leaving the tavern, Caro and Cat tried to get him to come over to their table and share a drink with them. He just waved in acknowledgement that he heard them but kept on going, focusing on his mission – to find Larien. He walked swiftly to her home trying to avoid the people on the street out for their walks after their evening meals. Some called out to him but again, he just waved and continued on his way. He was in no mood to talk to anyone tonight except Larien. He didn’t care if he appeared rude. If truth be told, most people didn’t expect him to stop and talk unless he had a special agenda, but they were neighborly people so always made the effort to engage him in conversation. The news he had was important and he needed to talk to her NOW!!

He reached her place, a bit out of breath in his rush to get there, and impatiently knocked on the door. There was no answering, “Come in, the door’s open”. He beat it again, this time with his gloved fist. Still, he could hear no returning response. He pounded on the door a third time as he shouted, “Larien, are you there? Answer me!” Nothing! Maudit, où est-elle? Then he thought that since it had been such a nice day, maybe she was out in the garden. There was still a bit of sunlight left before the moon rose. He strode around to the side garden door and knocked. Again, only silence greeted his efforts. He jiggled the door and it opened on squeaky hinges. Yes, she had spent some time working in her gardens by the look of that one area over close to the house. But, there was still no Larien. He was definitely not happy that he could not find her and his patience was running thin, VERY THIN! Maudit!!

He turned from the garden and went back out the way he had come in thinking he needed to remind her to keep the garden door locked and fastened securely. It should never be so easy to open as it was for him. It wouldn’t be a good thing if someone could walk in and surprise her, especially with the news he had in his possession. He had to stop and think. Where, where did she go? He was always a man of action and this not knowing where Larien could be did not sit well with him. Then, like a thunder bolt, he knew. After gardening, she would probably go to the glen! Oui, c'est ça!

With renewed purpose, he hurried through the alleys of the Keep and made his way out the castle gate, his dark cape flowing out behind him in his haste. He was one of the few people that knew the way to Larien’s glen, and more importantly, could go inside to see if she were there. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry, he would be able to enjoy the warmth of the night air. The sun had finally set and the moon was now slowly rising in the east. The moon was full and bright and not the best type of moon to hide his activities or anyone else’s for that matter. There were few clouds left in the sky to make their shadows on the ground or hide the moon with their presence. The moonbeams were fingers of light filtering through the leaves, leaving small patches of brightness to help him see his way through Wildon Woods. Not that he needed any assistance. He spent much of his days as a boy exploring these woods and now, as a man, used that information to his advantage. To say that he knew them like the back of his hand was an understatement. Not much moved in these woods that he didn’t already know about in some way, shape, or form. That’s what made him so good at his job. He wasn’t being boastful thinking that either; it was just the plain and simple facts. He and his brothers practically lived in these woods growing up. They climbed many a tree in their time and scared many travelers on their way to the Keep! If he weren’t in such a hurry to reach Larien, he might have taken a bit longer on his journey through this home away from home. But he did have a mission of importance. He finally reached the special location that held the magical portal which would lead him into the glen. He said the incantation and stepped into Larien’s paradise.

Her glen was a beautiful place and he was glad that Larien had this retreat to turn to for solace. He let his eyes get used to the light reflecting off the water as it was brighter than the light from the woods. He listened intently for sounds of her in the water but he heard nothing. He quickly looked around the glen area, taking it all in – the moss-covered rocks, the flowers, and the waterfall. Next, he looked up at the big boulder that was Larien’s thinking rock. He quietly took the steps, careful that his sword didn’t clang against the boulders as he walked up them, sure that he would find her there. Ah, yes, there she was! Finally he had found her! He didn’t realize that he had been holding his breath until he saw her. She was lying on the boulder as he suspected. Her back was towards the waterfall and she lay there on the rock with her left arm and hand cradling her face like a pillow. Her eyes were closed. He could tell by her measured breathing that she had fallen asleep. Larien must have changed her clothes after her swim if the pile of clothes lying on the rock was any indication. He stood there looking at her, his eyes moving slowly over her still body. The moonlight caressed her face turning it to alabaster. Her long dark eyelashes curled and rested on her cheeks. He knew that she had fallen asleep after her swim; her long, silky dark hair was still slightly damp and curling around her face and shoulders, spilling across her right hand.

He took his gloves off and secured them in his belt as he knelt next to her sleeping body. Larien looked so peaceful that he hated having to wake her. As he knelt there, he debated with himself over waking her at all. It would be so easy to leave her to her dreams and not wake her to the rude reality of the news he needed to share. He also knew that he could only tell her and let her be the one to talk to the Council. His feud with the Council was still on-going and he refused to speak directly to them. She would have to be the one to tell them. It was best that way as they wouldn’t like what he would say to them should he let his reserve down. And looking at her now, he still could not believe that someone wanted her dead! What could she have possibly done to anger someone to feel that they needed to rid the earth of her existence? Larien smiled even in sleep, her rosy lips slightly curled at the sides. He reached his fingers out to lightly brush the curls from her cheek and place them behind her ear so he could better drink in this vision before him. He never tired of looking at her either awake or in repose. There were not many people that affected him like this or that he cared about as much as he did for this woman. He would gladly give his life for her if he needed to do so. His touch, while feather light, was still enough to disturb her slumber and she slowly opened her eyes. Her smile was instantaneous, genuine, wide, and, oh so inviting.

“Hello, Mark.” Larien’s voice was husky from sleep.

“You know I do not go by that name anymore, my Queen,” he chided her softly.

“Yes, I know. You prefer Deamon.” There was a bit of sadness in Larien’s eyes as her right hand reached up to touch the side of his face. He moved his head slightly so he could kiss the palm of her hand as she continued, “But here in the glen, I think of you as Mark.”

Deamon knew that while they were in public, she did call him by the name he preferred and rarely as Mark. However, when they were in private, she often reverted back to his given name. Since Larien held such a special place in his heart, she was the only one he allowed the liberty of calling him by that name. He asked – no commanded – that all others call him Deamon or Master of Whispers. That was his name now and that was his profession. It suited him. It also allowed him certain liberties because people were too afraid of him to come out and ask his intentions or take him to task. There was only one that knew his true heart and was brave enough to question him and that was Larien, his Queen, his lady.

Larien knew that Deamon did not come to converse in idle chit chat. She sat up and looked at him, asking, “What is it you want to say to me? I know that you have something very important to say. Otherwise, you would have waited until later tonight or tomorrow to talk to me. But since you are with me here, it must be of an urgent nature.”

Deamon sat next to Larien as he wrapped them in his cape. Larien was grateful for the warmth it offered as the night air was beginning to cool down and she had gotten a slight chill while she slept. Deamon was quiet, just looking at the pool with its reflection of the moon rippling in the water. Larien waited, knowing that he was gathering his thoughts. After so many years together, she knew the signs very well. So, she sat close to him, absorbing his warmth and closeness in silence which was broken only by the sounds from the waterfall.

“You know, Larien, I would not come to Galeran if it were not important that I talk to you privately.” Deamon’s voice was low and hesitant, trying to find the right words to tell her. It all seemed easier when he was thinking about it. He was worried how this would affect her and her Angels. However, since there was no easy way to say it, he just started talking. She rested her small hand on his leg to encourage him to continue.

Deamon cleared his throat. “I have grave news. Several of my informants have told me that a very large army is fast approaching our Keep. And, from what I hear, it is not the normal size army of just a few hundred or so that we usually fight or have fought in the past. They are but a couple of days walk or so from our borders, Larien, and are rapidly approaching. My spies do not have anything good to say for this army so I think it is safe to say that they are not coming to ask us to aid them but have more sinister plans in mind.”

“When you say a very large army, Deamon, how many do your informants think there are?”

“I have not received a specific number of warriors but my understanding is more in the thousands. All I know is that they are marching on the Keep from the South, the East, AND the West. If it were not for the Tonathium Mountains, I’m sure that we would be surrounded on all four sides by them,” Deamon replied.

Larien started to talk and Deamon interrupted. “But that is not all.”

“There is more than being attacked on three sides by thousands of warriors?” Larien couldn’t think what could possibly be worse than this news.

He waited a brief moment, looking down at her hand resting on his leg, took it in his own, and kissed it before he quietly replied. “They have orcs in their ranks! “

“Orcs? Are you sure?” Deamon nodded. He felt the slight squeeze of surprise she gave his hand. Larien continued, “Yes, I see your point.” Larien closed her eyes and sighed. “They are definitely not here to chat with the Angels about anything. I will call our warriors and we will meet the advancing armies on the plains outside Wildon Woods.”

“I’m afraid we are too late for that, my Queen.” Larien looked at Deamon’s face, trying to tell what more he had to say that was worse than the news he had already given her. “They are too close to be intercepted and fought on the plains. As I see it, the Castle will have to defend itself. We have no other choice.” Deamon’s voice sounded resigned. The Angels have not had to defend its walls in a very, very long time, probably several decades or more. They all knew stories of other towns and villages that didn’t fare well when battles came so close to their castles. There usually was more damage to the castle walls and the occupants the walls protected. Those battles became more personal, more costly, and bloodier. It was seldom favorable to the villagers who became enslaved to the marauding army, giving up their freedoms to serve the new master of the castle.

Larien sighed deeply. Her bodied shuddered. His arm tightened around her. She looked at Deamon and could read his concern over the news he had just given and how it would affect her personally. She also knew that if the approaching army was anywhere on the plains, they would be within sight of the Keep very, very soon. Even the difficulties of transporting catapults and maneuvering thousands of warriors across the plains would not deter their march. The Angels didn’t have much time to waste.

“Do you think we need to go to the council tonight, Mark, or will the morning be time enough?”

“It should be tonight, Larien. The Castle Angels need time to prepare their weapons and secure the Keep. You need time to warn the dwarves and elves. We will also need to get the hot tar and catapults ready. Remember, we are going up against orcs and will need everything in our arsenal available and at the ready.”

“Then it seems we have no choice. Let us return to the Keep.” Larien knew what needed to be done. “We have a lot of planning ahead of us.” Deamon stood and reached down to help Larien stand. He looked deep into her eyes and could see the concern there for her Angels. He could not read anything in them to give any indication if she knew more than what they just discussed. He drew her to him and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him for a few seconds, his cheek resting against her hair. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, kissing her softly and longingly before letting her go. She picked up her clothes as he retrieved his cloak and they left the glen together – in silence.

What started out as a perfect beginning to the evening was not turning into a perfect ending. They didn’t talk much on their way back to the Castle, each deep in their own thoughts. Larien was thinking about the Council meeting that would be called and the discussions that would ensue. She hoped that they would be able to keep the battles for the enemy and not have to battle each other. With the armies coming into the Angels’ domain, the council members might have their own interests they want to protect and she would need to make sure that whatever they decided was best for the Angels as a whole and not just to specific individuals.

Deamon was thinking it was probably a good thing that Larien could not read his mind now. She used to be able to when he and the boys were younger. It had always amazed him how she knew who was responsible when he and his brothers got into mischief. It wasn’t until he got older that he knew and understood her ability even though there were times when he was an adolescent that it was awkward that she could. She stopped being able to read him when he saved her life that first time; that was when their relationship seemed to change. Because she could not channel into his thoughts now, it made it easier for him to keep the biggest piece of news that he had gotten from his spies to himself. He still could not believe what he had been told even though his source was usually very reliable. It seems that someone in one of the three approaching armies wanted the Elf Queen, his Larien, dead!! Deamon was worried about who would try to take Larien’s life and how and, more importantly, why. He was going to do all in his power to see that it did NOT happen – even if it meant dealing with Zigaroth himself!

created originally 6 September 2011