Stepping through the portal, Laromendis was confronted with a sight that made him falter. When he had last stood on the hill, a pastoral valley had stretched before him. Now, a city was rising, and from the look of things, rather rapidly.
The magic user moved down the road to the newly erected walls that would encircle the city area within a week or so. Few buildings had been erected; mostly wood huts and canvas tents provided the shelter, but as night fell, he saw a veritable tapestry of campfires. He had no idea how many of his people had come through this gate, but they must number in tens of thousands. Watchfires along the upper ridges showed more encampments, and he was certain that the commanders here would have already sent out groups to secure and then occupy the villages he had discovered on his last journey through the region. There was room for at least fifty thousand taredhel in this valley and in the meadows above.
Without a twinge of guilt for deserting his post, the Conjurer counted himself lucky to be alive. He was fairly certain that no one in authority would question his presence, they were otherwise occupied and apparently very busy.
He looked around. ‘Now,’ he whispered to himself. ‘Which way did Gulamendis go?’
*
Gulamendis rode quietly along the riverbank. He had reached the River Boundary earlier in the day and then looked for a ford. When he found one, he’d felt a strange discomfort and an inability to cross over into the Elven Forest, and so he decided to look for another path.
Now, hours later, he was at the third likely crossing point and still couldn’t bring himself to use it. He stopped and dismounted. Perhaps there was a geas or some other conjuration that prevented him from riding his steed into this ancient and sacred forest. He dismissed the demon with a wave of his hand and waited.
He listened. The breeze in the branches sang louder to him than in any other place he had visited, yet there was something odd in the sound, something he didn’t quite understand. This land was native to his race, yet he felt alien here, as if he was out of rhythm.
He sighed and sat down on the bank to ponder his next act. He looked at the river, less than one hundred yards away, its water running swiftly over the shallow rocks. It would be easy to walk into the water and make his way to the other side. In his mind he could see himself doing this without any difficulty.
Yet when he tried to step into the water, he could not.
He closed his eyes and used his skills to see if there were wards or a geas in place. There was something, but it wasn’t magic as he understood it. This was something more akin to a feeling, as if he listened to an old melody, but couldn’t quite remember its name. There was a haunting quality to it that disturbed him as much as it called to him.
From behind he heard a voice ask, ‘Having trouble crossing?’
The accent was odd, but he understood the words and quickly came to his feet, his hand seeking the hilt in his belt. Gulamendis stood looking down at an elf who was a few inches shorter than him. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘I am having trouble crossing.’
The elf tilted his head to one side, puzzled by the manner of Gulamendis’s speech. Like the rest of his people, he was patient, so for a long minute he said nothing, then he spoke. ‘Nothing about you is familiar to me, yet you are our kin; that I can plainly see. Who are you and from where do you hale?’
‘I am Gulamendis, of a modest but ancient line, recently a citizen in the city of Tarendamar.’
‘Star Home,’ said the elf. ‘I have never heard of such a place. Tell me, where is it?’
‘On another world.’
The elf shrugged. ‘I have met folk from other worlds, but I have never met any of our kin from another world, save those edhel who returned to us from Kelewan—’
‘Edhel?’ asked Gulamendis. ‘Other edhel have come here?’
The smaller elf nodded. He was dressed in green leather, from tunic to boots, and across his back carried a finely crafted longbow. ‘Yes. Are you of the edhel?’
‘Once,’ said Gulamendis, ‘my people were, though we now call ourselves the taredhel.’
‘The People of the Stars,’ said the elf. He smiled. ‘I like that. Come, you may enter Elvandar and we bid you welcome. I presume you wish to speak with the Queen?’
‘Yes,’ said Gulamendis as he walked into the water, now completely able to do so. ‘I thought a geas or wards prevented my entrance.’
‘More,’ said the elf. ‘The very woods of Elvandar do not permit anyone to enter without welcome, unless powerful magic is used. Only once have invaders reached the heart of our lands, and they were magicians of very great power.’
Suddenly two other elves appeared from behind the trees, and Gulamendis halted. The first elf introduced them, ‘I am Cristasia, and these are my companions Lorathan and Gorandis. We’ve been watching you for a while.’
The one called Gorandis said, ‘Are all of your people as tall as you?’