Advent Of Darkness. Gary Caplan
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slain Charachau were piled together on a tier by the knights and set aflame. He watched as the corpses sputtered and produced smoke. He noticed they buried the remains of the griffon and shrouded the remains of the fallen rider some type of runecloth and placed his remains respectfully into a rune carved container; Gideon then entered the tent that he was told was set aside for himself and Tauri Ragan and closed the flap, sinking limply into a waiting cot.
Chapter Three
Flight of the Griffons
The next morning, Gideon awoke, feeling rested with a good eight hours' sleep. The smell of cooking food made his mouth water in anticipation. Slowly, he roused himself. He washed up and cleaned his teeth using water, some sap, and a type of brush someone had left him. He then walked stiffly into the beehive of activity that was the elven camp.
As he looked around at the process of the breaking down of the campsite, Gideon noticed a tall, handsome elven knight approaching him. His bright-green eyes flashed with wisdom, and his dark-brown hair lifted with the brisk morning breeze. He wore a silver-gray mesh mail coat, which was partially hidden by a magnificent green cloak. On his feet, he wore brown doeskin boots.
"Good morning to you, John Gideon," he said in a light and mellow tenor voice. "I am Sir Caylendril, a knight of the Platinum Griffon and kin to Lord Garenthal. I will be carrying you on my griffon when we depart. It seems that Ragan has obtained passage for you to our legion's destination, the city of Mindon."
"Good morning, Sir Caylendril," yawned Gideon, for he was not quite awake. "Great, I've never ridden a griffon before. I can hardly wait."
"Good," replied the elf. "Now, you must excuse me, for I must prepare my mount for flight since even by griffon, it will take at least two days to arrive at our main camp outside of the city. Farewell!" Gideon waved good-bye to the elven knight and then went to the mess tent for breakfast.
"It is believed by the High Council of Errada," Ragan was saying, "that John Gideon is the Chosen One, the one who will fulfill the prophecy."
Garenthal chewed on a piece of bread and nodded. They were in Garenthal's command tent, enjoying a last-minute breakfast of breads and fruits before the final flight to Mindon.
"Now, I must ask another favor of you, Your Grace," continued Ragan. "As you are a Guardian, you have wisdom and knowledge of many things beyond my Erradan lore. As it is, my young ward, John Gideon, was granted a temporary ability to speak the languages of our world with the aid of a translation spell ensorcelled into the circlet he wears on his head. He will need to be able to speak our languages fluently if he is to be able to fit into our world. Is there some way to give him a permanent mastery of our major languages? It will make his transition much easier and swifter."
Garenthal spread some butter on the bread he held and took another bite. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then leaned back in his chair and said, "Yes, there is a way. And since you make such a simple request, Ragan and he is the council's Chosen One, I will help you in this matter. There is a way to give him what you desire, and more if you so wish. However, it will have to wait until we reach my base camp facilities at Mindon."
Ragan nodded his head in the affirmative. "My thanks to you, Lord Garenthal. Oh, also, would you happen to know a very discreet alchemist and potion maker in Mindon—say, an alchemist capable of preparing the elixir known as amnoxillin? With all I have to do, I will not have the time to prepare it."
Garenthal thought for a moment as he washed down his meal with a cup of wine and replied with a smile, "Yes, I do. You should seek Senior Master Balminewe. He can be trusted with a certain amount of secrecy, and he is a skilled wizard and a master enchanter, with long years of practicing his trade. Yes, if anyone in that city can safely and discreetly make the elixir for you, it is Balminewe." Then his voice grew concerned as he continued, "I suppose that this young 'Chosen One' will need it soon since he may be quite vulnerable to the planoi, or what he would call the bacteria of this world. Someone from outside our world would be particularly susceptible to some of those planoi and could die if not properly acclimated. An incapacitated or failed Chosen One would not make the White Council happy, would it? How many champions are there now found by the Tauri? Two? Three?"
"Three others, Your Grace," replied the Tauri. "Thus, his need for the amnoxillin elixir. I have been keeping him relatively safe from the planoi with spellweaves and providing healthful drinking water." Garenthal nodded in understanding.
"You have a long road to walk before the end of these new tasks, my friend," said Garenthal, wiping his mouth with a towel. A servant came and took his plate away. "And a heavy burden to carry. Do not despair. Remember, the greatest minds and talents of this world are with you, friend Ragan. Remember that when you feel that the burden has grown too heavy."
"Thank you, Garenthal," said Ragan as he got up and headed toward the exit. "I shall remember your counsel and be comforted by it. I only hope that we shall have the strength to push on through to the end."
Soon, before midday, the griffons were prepared to leave. The encampment was taken down, and the equipment swiftly packed away. Gideon decided to go for a stroll and survey the activity on the camp breakdown while Cordlyer was making the final preparations for takeoff. As he walked, he noticed other various species of flying beasts beside the griffons, but these were few, being used primarily as equipment carriers. Then, while he stared in fascination at this aviation menagerie, Gideon noticed an attractive elf maiden readying her mount. The beast was like a cross between a unicorn and a Pegasus or, more simply, a horned horse with wings. She glanced upward in his direction, smiled, and then waved. Gideon returned in kind. The maiden then returned to her mount, strapping a saddle around its magnificent equine body.
Finding himself with nothing really to do, Gideon leaned against a tree and watched her with fascination. She was beautiful, with traits to be admired, and he decided to do just that. She had a mane of thick pale-blond hair that shone in the morning sunlight. She wore a thin, silver-gray mesh armor that was covered in leathers, which accented the lithe curvature of her body rather than hiding it. Her hands were gloved in soft, broken-in leather that bore a metallic plate sewn into the upper forearm section. But the thing that made Gideon so intrigued with her was her face; it was pale yet fair. She looked as though she had been sculpted by a master artisan, flawless and beautiful. Every feature was soft yet well-defined. Her ears, like those of all of her race, were tipped gracefully and prominent. Her eyes were pale blue, accentuating her hair modestly.
This was a woman to be pampered in the houses of lords. Yet she was packing a saddlebag like a professional warrior. She was beautiful and independent, able to think for and defend herself. The more he thought about it, the more he grew to admire and adore her. He was still mulling over the thought of introducing himself to her when he noticed that she had finished packing and was now walking gracefully toward him. For an instant, his heart leaped into his throat, such was her effect on him. He quickly calmed himself and prepared for her.
"Good morning," he said and then added, "milady." He had heard that used in an old movie once, and he thought the translated term appropriate for the occasion, for she was indeed a lady.
"Good morning to you," she replied in a clear and perfect soprano.
Gideon continued nervously, "I noticed you packing, and I was just admiring your…"
He fumbled for the right word. Perhaps the translation circlet had helped him in a way providing an acceptable pause.
"My what?" asked the elf.
"Your packing," he concluded. "It's quite efficient."
"Yes, I guess it is," replied the elf. "It allows me easy access to my things should I be in haste."
An uneasy moment passed between them, and Gideon thought desperately for something witty to charm her. But that was pointless, for she seemed to have enough charm for the both of them. Yet she had approached him. She had made the first move. "Are you a knight of the order also?" he asked finally.
"Yes," she said, smiling brightly. Her teeth were also perfect. "But I am of a different order and regiment. I am a knight of the Order of the