Tomas looked over the forest.
Spreading out below him was the home he had known for most of his life. From the royal couple’s private balcony, the view was stunning. The great trees of Elvandar were laid out in a fashion that at first glance appeared chaotic, but there was a pattern, and once the eye became accustomed to it, much was revealed. From here, Tomas could see the great meadow where children played as their parents watched over them while they repaired bows, made arrows, loomed cloth or prepared food. In the distance he could see the top of a hill where an ancient watch fire waited to be lit should trouble breach the outer forest. On this side of the River Boundary, no warning was needed, for only powerful magic could allow the uninvited to enter the inner forest at the heart of Elvandar, and the intrusion would be felt by all who lived within the glades.
Growing up in Crydee he had imagined heroics and great feats for himself as a warrior in service to the king, but fate had bestowed something far greater than his boyish flights of fancy. He was the heir to the white and gold armour of the Valheru, and with that came all of the knowledge of a being long dead. He had seen a thousand things in his memory that he had not witnessed in life, yet they were as vivid to him as if he had seen them first hand.
His old companion, there when he found the armour, stood at his side regarding the vista silently with his friend. The dwarves and elves had always maintained a cool but civil relationship until Tomas had gained the armour of the long-dead Valheru, Ashen-Shugar. As a battle companion he had saved many dwarves during the war with the Tsurani and as the avatar of a long-dead Dragon Lord, he had commanded nearly blind obedience in the elves. During the Riftwar a bond had been forged between the elves of Elvandar and the dwarves of the Grey Towers and Stone Mountain that had led to a far more cordial relationship than before the war.
Dolgan had remained Tomas’s friend for over a century, always a calm source of counsel with a very practical view of the world around him. Tomas welcomed his friend’s presence, though not the reason that had brought him to visit.
After delivering his warning to the Elf Queen, Alystan of Natal had departed, for he had many duties, but Dolgan had decided to linger. It had been almost six years since he had visited his elven friends in the north, and he felt the need to stay a while.
He knew Tomas nearly as well as Aglaranna or Tomas’s boyhood friend Pug did, and so the dwarven monarch knew his friend was as disturbed by the arrival of this alien elf as he had been. ‘It’s something to ponder, isn’t it, lad?’ he finally said.
Tomas always smiled at being called ‘lad’ by Dolgan. ‘That it is, Dolgan.’
‘I knew there was something afoot that day in the mines of Mac Mordain Cadal, when I found you eating fish with a dragon.’ The old dwarf laughed, and said, ‘That was a tale worth a hundred nights of stories by the fire. But what came after, Tomas. The Tsurani and what changed in you and who you became . . .’ He gave an emphatic nod, and then said, ‘But it has all turned out for the best.’
‘Has it?’ the tall, blond-haired warrior regarded his old friend with blue eyes filled with concern.
‘You’ve done a fair bit beyond your pledge to protect your adopted home, my friend. You’ve raised a fine son and you’ve given a wonderful woman all the love a man can give. That alone merits praise. But more, you’ve been a redoubt to your people. It’s been pretty peaceful up here in Elvandar while the rest of the world has endured some pretty nasty times.’
Tomas nodded. Elvandar had been left untouched when the Emerald Queen’s army had ravaged the Kingdom.
‘Well, I’ve given you plenty to ponder, and not near so much as our new friend,’ he said with a nod to where Gulamendis was being housed. ‘He’s a queer one, that’s for certain, and if it weren’t for the ears and all his elvish ways, I’d take him for a tall human, that’s a fact.’
Tomas smiled. He enjoyed his visits with Dolgan, as infrequent as they were becoming. The dwarf would probably live another hundred years with luck and good care, but nothing was forever and even the most robust of the long-lived races was mortal.
Lately Tomas had been filled with a sense of foreboding, he could not shake the feeling that something was coming, something very powerful, and that the world as he knew it would change as a result of it, and not for the better. That feeling had deepened with the arrival of the alien elf.
Looking at Dolgan, Tomas said, ‘So you’re leaving, then?’