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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Aglanthol 1 - The Legend of Khaalindaan - 16. Chapter 16

Neldor winced. He was about to turn around and run. However, he remained where he was and let out another sigh.

"Qildor, royal soldier. What have I done to deserve this?" he said in a low voice.

The man walked in his direction. Neldor waited resignedly. Qildor stopped in front of him.

"It has been a while," Qildor said in a measured voice and gave Neldor a bow.

Neldor shot him a frown. He made an angry gesture with his hand.

"We’re not at court and we don’t sit at dinner with the king. We’re out in the wilderness and night is falling. So don’t behave like a peacock," he hissed.

Qildor smirked at the wizard.

"Night is falling, indeed. How about we share this place for the night? I have checked it already," he said.

Qildor turned around and walked up to the house. Neldor followed him hesitantly. He led his horse into the stable and then entered the house. Qildor started a fire in the fireplace.

"Don’t you think this is imprudent?" Neldor asked in a grumpy voice.

"What? Start a fire?" Qildor asked without looking at the wizard. "I don’t think so. I have not met many people on the road. And the Khalindash don’t come west. So, don’t fear an attack, Master Neldor."

Neldor did not reply. He sat down in an old chair. Qildor turned to him.

"How are you doing? Where are you going, Master Neldor?" he asked.

Neldor studied Qildor’s face.

"Why would you want to know? Where have you been and where are you going?" he asked back.

"I was roaming the country," Qildor replied.

"Did the king order you to do so?" Neldor asked warily.

"In a sense," Qildor said. "He sent me north to the fortress that we have built in spring. I am on my way back to the royal court."

"You don’t take the direct route," Neldor said.

"No," Qildor confirmed and left it at that.

"What about you, Master Neldor?" he asked finally. "Have you heard of another secret place with a powerful sword you want to retrieve maybe?"

Qildor crossed his arms in front of his chest and studied Neldor’s face. The wizard shot him a dark look.

"You have no idea at all. You don’t have a clue. I’m on my life’s mission," he said in a defiant voice.

Qildor gave a laugh. He smirked at the wizard.

"It has to do with the map, hasn’t it?" he asked.

Neldor winced. He studied Qildor’s face with narrowed eyes.

"So what?" he asked. "It’s none of your business."

They frowned at each other for a while.

"Do you still believe in the legends?" Neldor asked finally.

Qildor studied Neldor’s face before he replied.

"I do," he said. "In fact, I travelled north to find the ancient town. But I did not find it. There is no town and there is no seaport. And no powerful foreigner is leading the Khalindash into battle. They cross the border and attack the Aglanthol villages only in order to steal food. The Khalindash people hardly get through the winter. Our speculations were false."

Neldor nodded.

"So you don’t believe in the legend of the ancient town any longer?" he asked.

"I only said I found no rebuilt town. And I found no seaport. I believe, however, that there was a town many centuries ago. Gwyn’s map and yours are proof of it. But the town fell into ruins a long, long time ago," Qildor said.

"Doubtlessly," Neldor replied.

He paused for a moment. Qildor watched him.

"And yet I cannot let go," Neldor said. "I have spent decades researching on the map and the symbols. I have only little time left. I am an old man, close to death. But I won’t give in. I want to unveil the secret."

"What secret? Is there one left?" Qildor asked.

"My goal will not make sense to you. But I must complete my mission anyway," Neldor said with a shrug.

"What mission?" Qildor asked. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Neldor was hesitating. Could he trust the man? He studied Qildor’s face and thought of the day in winter when they had fought the evil spirit if Khaalindaan. Neldor straightened and then he told Qildor all. He told him of his master and the map, the symbols and the key that he had found behind a book. He told him of the Castle of Saelethiel that was the destination of his journey.

Qildor grew more and more interested. He leaned forward and his eyes twinkled. Neldor stopped at the man’s obvious excitement.

"What?" Neldor asked. "Don’t expect to find a treasure there. There are only books that a common man with a common sense is not interested in."

"I am not a common man," Qildor said seriously.

He reached into the pocket of his tunic and pulled something out of it. The item was wrapped in an oil cloth. Qildor unfolded the cloth and then he spread Gwyn’s map on the table. Neldor looked between Qildor and the map with narrowed eyes, yet Qildor gave no explanations. He pointed at a spot on the left side of the map.

"This spot made me think. Only two spots are drawn in the continent on the left. One in the north and one in the west. The spot in the north is the ancient town. I wondered what the spot in the west was. Another town? And how did the foreigners know of it?" he asked.

Neldor gazed at the spot on the map. He recognized it instantly. He spread his own map. The same spot was drawn in there.

"I have never given this a thought," he said in a pressed voice. "Probably because I knew the spot indicated the Castle of Saelethiel. It was no mystery to me. How very imprudent I was."

Qildor cast him a look, yet did not reply. He pointed at the spot on the map instead.

"The Castle of Saelethiel is high up in the Western Mountains?" he asked.

Neldor nodded.

"Provided the maps were drawn by the foreigners, how did they know of the castle and what did they hope to find there?" Qildor asked. "You said the castle was built many centuries before the foreigners came to the land."

Qildor leaned back in his chair. He studied the wizard. Neldor looked back.

"This is why you are travelling west, isn’t it?" Neldor asked with a piercing look.

"In fact," Qildor said. "I am investigating, so to speak."

He smiled at the wizard cheerfully. Neldor gave him a suspicious look, and then he raised a hand.

"The spot may have been drawn in the maps at later times. Cautious. No more false speculations," he said.

Qildor gave a laugh.

"I don’t really care who drew in the spots. The foreigners are dead. Their motives do not matter anymore. But you told me of the Castle of Saelethiel. I want to find out about the truth. Don’t you think it’s a remarkable coincidence that we met tonight, Master Neldor?" he asked.

"Perhaps," Neldor said drily. "We can’t escape our fate."

He already regretted that he had told Qildor so many details. The man was obsessed with the old legends. He had apparently made it his life’s goal to unveil ancient secrets. Neldor stopped short at his thought. The man was much like him, he had to admit.

"Don’t be so serious and gloomy," Qildor said, rubbing his hands in gleeful anticipation.

Neldor cast him an ambiguous look.

"How about we rest now and leave tomorrow early in the morning?" Qildor asked.

Neldor grimaced inwardly. Now he was obliged to travel with the man. Neldor took a deep breath and resigned to his fate.

 

~~**~~

2012 Dolores Esteban
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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