Read Online The Hidden Realm: Book 04 - Ennodius by A. Giannetti - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: A. Giannetti
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that he was just another shadow under the trees. Only his eyes gleamed silver when he raised his head to look questioningly at Elerian.
“Peace my friend,” said Elerian as he walked over and stroked the stallion's velvety muzzle. “It is not any danger that troubles me tonight, only a restlessness of spirit.”
Reassured by Elerian’s voice, Enias resumed cropping the rich grass near his feet, and Elerian walked back under the trees. The narrow green willow leaves overhead were soothing to his spirit after the openness of the plains. As he wandered with a light step through the wood, his senses remained aware of all that went on around him, but his thoughts were soon far away. The willow grove faded away as Elerian became lost in his memories, reliving the days that he had spent with Anthea.
A RISKY UNDERTAKING
As Elerian walked restlessly through the willow groves growing on the banks of the Tanicus, Anthea, far to the south, stirred restlessly in her bed. Suddenly, she started awake, her heart pounding. A grim dream of Ascilius and Elerian being consumed by dragon fire still fresh in her mind, she sat up trembling in her bed.
Anxiously, she looked at her left hand, dropping the veil of the illusion spell that hid her ring. To her relief, the ruby captured in the band of silvery argentum still pulsed, its crimson glow alternately brightening and darkening. The ring at once soothed and troubled her mind, for it told her that Elerian was alive, but not where he was or what his condition might be.
Before lying down to sleep, Anthea had looked in the crystal bowl Elerian had given her father as a gift, but the portal had still shown no sign of either Elerian or Ascilius. Anthea was fairly certain that Elerian had used his silver ring to conceal himself, Ascilius, and their mounts, but she found it difficult to banish the disquieting thought that some other, more sinister fate, had overtaken him and Ascilius.
“Do dragons take their prey alive at times,” she wondered to herself. “Perhaps even now, he is caught in the creature’s scaly coils in far off Ennodius,” she thought to herself anxiously. Absolutely fearless regarding her own safety, she found herself prey to unfamiliar worries regarding Elerian’s fate.
“I cannot go on playing the part of the patient maiden without first solving the mystery of his disappearance,” thought Anthea to herself. “I must discover his fate or the uncertainty will drive me mad.”
The Tarsi had camped only a few miles south of the canyon where Anthea and Elerian had fought the Troll. It suddenly occurred to Anthea that she might find the answer to her question in Dymiter’s abandoned home. Who knew what other magic was hidden in that place besides the pedestal that she had discovered there. As thought crystallized into the need for action, Anthea rose from her bed, quickly and silently dressing herself in her soft leather riding clothes. Her eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as she slipped a long knife through her belt and hung a slim sword over her shoulders. If her dream proved prophetic, she would have her revenge on the dragon or die in the attempt.
Like a shadow, she stole through her father’s tent. Sleeping servants and furniture lurking unseen in the dark were no obstacle to her newly acquired night sight. Exiting through a slit she silently opened on the north side of the tent wall with a parting spell, she easily circumvented the armed, sleepless guards standing in front of the entrance to the pavilion. After using a joining spell to seal the opening she had made, Anthea paused for a moment with her back to the tent wall, settling her gaze on the Nordaels, which rose up like a dark wall to the north of the encampment. The desire to return to the Dymiter’s ancient home became even more fixed in her mind.
After taking a bridle from a nearby tent where riding gear was stored, Anthea slipped silently through the camp, passing unseen through the
“Peace my friend,” said Elerian as he walked over and stroked the stallion's velvety muzzle. “It is not any danger that troubles me tonight, only a restlessness of spirit.”
Reassured by Elerian’s voice, Enias resumed cropping the rich grass near his feet, and Elerian walked back under the trees. The narrow green willow leaves overhead were soothing to his spirit after the openness of the plains. As he wandered with a light step through the wood, his senses remained aware of all that went on around him, but his thoughts were soon far away. The willow grove faded away as Elerian became lost in his memories, reliving the days that he had spent with Anthea.
A RISKY UNDERTAKING
As Elerian walked restlessly through the willow groves growing on the banks of the Tanicus, Anthea, far to the south, stirred restlessly in her bed. Suddenly, she started awake, her heart pounding. A grim dream of Ascilius and Elerian being consumed by dragon fire still fresh in her mind, she sat up trembling in her bed.
Anxiously, she looked at her left hand, dropping the veil of the illusion spell that hid her ring. To her relief, the ruby captured in the band of silvery argentum still pulsed, its crimson glow alternately brightening and darkening. The ring at once soothed and troubled her mind, for it told her that Elerian was alive, but not where he was or what his condition might be.
Before lying down to sleep, Anthea had looked in the crystal bowl Elerian had given her father as a gift, but the portal had still shown no sign of either Elerian or Ascilius. Anthea was fairly certain that Elerian had used his silver ring to conceal himself, Ascilius, and their mounts, but she found it difficult to banish the disquieting thought that some other, more sinister fate, had overtaken him and Ascilius.
“Do dragons take their prey alive at times,” she wondered to herself. “Perhaps even now, he is caught in the creature’s scaly coils in far off Ennodius,” she thought to herself anxiously. Absolutely fearless regarding her own safety, she found herself prey to unfamiliar worries regarding Elerian’s fate.
“I cannot go on playing the part of the patient maiden without first solving the mystery of his disappearance,” thought Anthea to herself. “I must discover his fate or the uncertainty will drive me mad.”
The Tarsi had camped only a few miles south of the canyon where Anthea and Elerian had fought the Troll. It suddenly occurred to Anthea that she might find the answer to her question in Dymiter’s abandoned home. Who knew what other magic was hidden in that place besides the pedestal that she had discovered there. As thought crystallized into the need for action, Anthea rose from her bed, quickly and silently dressing herself in her soft leather riding clothes. Her eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as she slipped a long knife through her belt and hung a slim sword over her shoulders. If her dream proved prophetic, she would have her revenge on the dragon or die in the attempt.
Like a shadow, she stole through her father’s tent. Sleeping servants and furniture lurking unseen in the dark were no obstacle to her newly acquired night sight. Exiting through a slit she silently opened on the north side of the tent wall with a parting spell, she easily circumvented the armed, sleepless guards standing in front of the entrance to the pavilion. After using a joining spell to seal the opening she had made, Anthea paused for a moment with her back to the tent wall, settling her gaze on the Nordaels, which rose up like a dark wall to the north of the encampment. The desire to return to the Dymiter’s ancient home became even more fixed in her mind.
After taking a bridle from a nearby tent where riding gear was stored, Anthea slipped silently through the camp, passing unseen through the
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