Surface World 2 Read online

  Surface World

  Book I

  Part II

  By Ed Montalvo

  Text copyrights © 2001

  To become a beta reader, please email: [email protected] or visit www.mysyfybooks.com and register.

  Table of Content

  Text Copyright © 2001 Ed Montalvo

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Index

  Chapter 1

  Traumatic experiences force one to see things uniquely. When you find yourself swimming in despair your inner light dims. Something wonderful and equally horrible emerges. You must distinct which is which.

  Translations from the Hand.

  Tatiana awoke, “Good morning…, feeling better?” she stretched with a light squeal as her wings slightly trembled, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn.

  Dregous’s dotted pupils against steely white eyes, a contrast to his inky black complexion peered over his book, “Good morning,” he responded anatomically.

  “My, are we formal,” the princess’s hair draped over her face as she leaned on her elbow. Her curves seemed more pronounced.

  “Apologies Angel, I am preoccupied with a queer sleep vision,” he fingered marked his book.

  She sat up, “Sleep vision…?”

  Her blank look prompt him, “Where you see places and people in your sleep.” He discretely admired her figure from head to toe.

  “Oh, you mean a dream…. What did it entail?” she slid off the bed, her bare feet padded to her armor and tugged her garment when she crouched.

  Dregous thought aloud, “Dream?”

  “That is what we call your sleep visions.”

  “Hmm, dream…, curious….”

  “Dregous?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Your dream?”

  “Oh, of course…, um, you dressed me. I confess it was quite alluring,” he chuckled. “Please forgive me. I know a person of your caliber would not subscribe to such behaviors.”

  “It sounds like your dream changed your view of me,” hoping for a romantic interest. She hid behind her wings to change to her padding, then her armor.

  He glimpsed her backside, “No, of course not… it is…,” Dregous said softly. “Please forgive my discourtesy. I wish no offense.”

  The princess blushed, “That is relieving,” her smile hid her nervousness.

  He noted her flush, “Shall we break our fast?”

  That is more like him, she thought. “Please,” and strolled to the door.

  The undead witch whispered gently, ‘She will never be yours.’

  He suppressed a shiver, “Wait,” and looked over his shoulder, “Please.”

  She saw fear in his eyes and knew the witch was the cause, “I will be here,” and strolled to the window. “Will this do?”

  “Obliged,” he glanced over his shoulder and saw her turn away as he adjusted his leggings.

  His shy inner child surfaced and melted her. He looks adorable, she thought. Dregous looked for his pack. The princess spied through the glass reflection again and passed him his tunic.

  “My gratitude,” he experienced alien feelings, modesty, embarrassment and secured himself with the covers.

  He seemed so innocent. She faced the window and saw his reflection. Her heart skipped seeing his bare chest.

  He cursed himself for being weak while dressing, then settled his hood. They made for the common room and awaited the others while discussing his dream.

  Rem joined them as they finished their meal. “Greetings,” he said cheerfully. “I have disagreeable tidings.”

  “What happened?” Tatiana asked.

  “Tuke was summoned,” he took a loaf of bread from the basket.

  “Is all well?” she slid the basket over.

  “Do not know,” he glanced at the loaf then took a bite.

  “Did he say how long his delay?” Tatiana glanced at Dregous.

  He barely chewed as he reached for Dregous’s mug. “Only that it may take a while….” then addressed the prince, “Oh, how are you feeling?”

  Tatiana looked between them, “A while?” with an arced brow.

  “Your concern is appreciated,” Dregous answered, though wondered his concern.

  The ranger nodded looking between them. “So, what is the plan?” he waved the barmaid over.

  “What of Angelique?”

  Rem wondered if Tatiana injured her neck on how quickly she turned to him. Why is he asking for her, she wondered? Dregous’s attention was on Rem.

  “She said something about her daughter,” he reset Dregous’s mug. The mage gently pushed it back. Rem shrugged and reclaimed it.

  “Another milk and cheese please,” the prince asked.

  “We yet start our campaign and already are short two.” Tatiana stated.

  “That gives me time to see the magistrate.”

  “You may wish to reconsider,” Rem warned with a mouthful.

  Dregous slightly tilted his head. His penetrating eyes were unnerving, “Why?”

  He leaned closer, swallowed, then whispered, “You are not exactly the right color, know what I mean.”

  The prince pressed his lips, arcing his brow then addressed Tatiana, “Give them till midday. If absent, we continue, agreeable?”

  She nodded, “Agreed.” The barmaid set Dregous’s order.

  “I will tend the supplies…, oh, coin?” Rem asked.

  Tatiana handed him a purse. “Curtesy of the goblins.” She looked at Dregous, “May haps I accompany you?”

  “My gratitude,” the mage said to the barmaid, then sampled the cheese and sipped the fresh milk. He addressed Tatiana, “You honor me.”

  “It is settled. Rem tends the supplies and we the magistrate. Besides, after last night, caution is required.”

  Rem wolfed his meal, “She has a point.”

  Dregous looked at them while setting down his mug, “What of last night?”

  Rem was about to speak, “I will explain in route,” Tatiana jumped in.

  “As you say,” he finished his milk. “Shall we,” then offered his hand for her to stand. Her heart raced and took it, then they left Rem to his meal.

  Riverdale’s streets were crowded. They sought a constable and inquired the magistrates’ office. She explained last night’s events as they walked.

  The magistrate was in the upper-class district. Tatiana realized her attire and attempted to improve her appearance. Dregous gently ceased her, “We traveled, apologies unrequired.”

  She always dressed appropriately and grumbled through clinched teeth and tilted brows, “I am aware, but I am… …Princess Tatiana Brouka!” she whispered.

  “I know; however, it is best they do not,” he gently reminded.

  She muttered, “I hate this,” walking stiffly beside him, “I truly hate this you realize…. Ooh, I hate this,” she looked at him accusingly.

  “I know Angel, I know…,” Dregous sympathized her discomfort.

  They approached a high fence with ornamental vines wrapped around rods with spades atop stonework. The arched gates opened between large granite columns, stood over three meters. Guards stood on either end. The columns design depicted sharp cut angles with ovals, appearing delicate, resembling webbing, lined the mansion.

  Tati
ana noted Dregous’s distraction, “What is the matter? Is it happening again?” His tormented dream was still fresh in her mind. A mixture of concern and fear filled her, as she eyed the passersby.

  “These carvings, they are Drouwen design,” he whispered.

  “Are you certain?” she asked, he nodded. “How is that possible?”

  “The magistrate may be open to our visit.”

  “Or a threat,” she reminded.

  “Well pointed; my eagerness blinded me. Nonetheless, I must chance the encounter else my journey would be for naught,” he stepped to the guard with the princess in tow.

  “Are not two heads better than one,” she said with a teasing smirk. No one was there other than the guards.

  He gave her a sidelong look, “Witty.” She grinned.

  A guard extended his pike, “Hold,” he sounded bored.

  “We wish to speak to the magistrate.”

  He didn’t look at them, “You are early. Meeting with his lord will commence shortly,” he sounded rehearse.

  Dregous leaned slightly, “It is of extreme import.”

  “Of course it is,” he replied with a condescending tone, then noticed the princess with interest.

  “Unbelievable,” he mumbled and gambled revealing himself to the guard. He curiously looked at Dregous. The people started to gather.

  Tatiana addressed the guard. “Dear sir,” she flashed a brilliant smile.

  The guard instantly softened with a wide grin, “My lady, how may I assist you?”

  “Great sir, may we…” she glanced the mansion.

  He looked back, “I do not know…”

  “Oh please, the visit will be quick,” she batted her eyes innocently.

  Her beauty and striking eyes snared him, “Come my lady,” he motioned, forgetting Dregous.

  “Oh, and…, my friend?”

  He glanced at him, cleared his throat, “…of course,” his helmet hid his blush, “Come.” They passed the gates to a winding walkway meeting with grand double doors.

  Tatiana warned softly, “Do not expect much.”

  “Why not?” he whispered.

  “You are unknown here,” she studied his eyes. They appeared to glow within his cloak.

  “Your concern is noted, all will be well,” Dregous assured. He was taught success and failure happens first in the mind.

  They entered the mansion through a decorated grand hall with gold frame paintings. The magistrate’s office resembled a small palace. It was large and overly decorated illustrating his position. He noticed a similarity between humans and Drouwen’s. A desire for grand first impressions.

  The crystal chandelier glittered from the roaring hearth in the far end. Its worth was more than the towns people could pay in taxes in a decade. The rug on the wall depicted a dryad bathing in a stream, as forest creatures watched. A nosy deer’s front hooves in the water stretched its’ neck to the lovely nude female. By the two lower corners of the rug stood two Ayrian figurines opposite each other, one poised for flight, the other landing.

  A small table addressed the entrance with sweet meats, covered in a glass container. On either side of the table were two more smaller Ayrian figurines with different poses. A stained pinewood library lined the entrance wall. The room had a dark ambiance even with the sunlight pouring through three large windows.

  They were ushered shy of the magistrate’s desk. The guard left closing the door behind him, it echoed. Another Ayrian figurine adorn the desk. This one of a nude female peeking from behind a tree.

  Tatiana studied the art pieces, “I am having second thoughts,” she sat with the backrest to her side to accommodate her cloaked wings. A ting of fear struck her.

  “I am inclined to agree,” Dregous sensed no threat and studied the room. He noticed the Ayrian artwork and thought of Tatiana as a trophy, it frightened him. For him, death would be the worst, and cast into oblivion for not leaving his mark. However, the magistrate admired and collected Ayrian art. The undead witch flashed in his mind and flinched. She didn’t notice but sensed it and glanced at the prince.

  The princess studied her surroundings, “This is Ayrian work,” she announced and saw Dregous’s eyes, cold, void of life. It bothered her seeing him that way. He was hiding something.

  “Interesting,” he sounded distant.

  ***

  “My lord, you have a visitor,” the guard announced from the doorway as he entered the morning room.

  “Oh,” expressing little interest. Every morning brought the same, citizens requesting or pushing petitions of one thing or another. “Who is it?” he gently blew his tea and sipped.

  “A Drouwen my lord,” he flatly stated.

  Ceron spat his tea over his morning meal fumbling to stand as he clumsily set the elegant cup aside. “What!” surprised. “Are you sure? What does she want, what did she say?”

  “Aye my lord. HE, requested to speak with you.”

  “He… a male…, why in great heavens is a male here,” he quickly regained himself, wondering if he was being tested.

  “I thought it safer to bring him directly to your office.”

  “Of course of course. Quite prudent…, grateful,” Ceron looked out the window thoughtfully. The Drouwen arrival must be dealt with quickly and quietly. He blotted his lips with a cloth, tossed it on his meal, “Take me to him,” and rushed his portly figure around the table.

  ***

  “What is taking so long?” Tatiana paced while wondering how the artwork found its way here.

  Dregous thought the same. “He will be here soon enough,” It’s a waiting game the prince knew well. “He sends a message.”

  “Which is?”

  “He controls this visit.”

  His insight prompt her, “This was a mistake.”

  The doors opened as the magistrate strolled in with an unfitting swagger to his heavy figure. He dressed elegantly and stood a few centimeters shorter than Dregous.

  “Ceron Korinthian of Kal, our illustrious magistrate of Riverdale,” announced the guard then closed the door on exiting. Ceron may look the fool, but Dregous knew otherwise. Dealing with the empire requires cunning, insight and intelligence.

  He noticed the beautiful female admiring his collection. “And you are, dear sir?” he asked pleasantly.

  “Where did you find these?” Tatiana inquired. Dregous glanced at her.

  “I have been searching for many years without success, until I met a lovely merchant that deals in lost histories. She clued where I may find them,” he sighed. “Since childhood I hoped to see an Ayrian, though that seems unlikely, for my twilight years rush upon me, and there is no indication of their return.” The prince studied his voice, and realized he sounded like the heavy cloaked figure at the Imperial market place.

  “To take them as trophies?” she replied with edge to her voice.

  “Good heavens no…”

  “Then…”

  Dregous interrupted, “Angel please,” he stepped closer to her and addressed Ceron, “To answer your question, I am Dregous of house Von’Negrous.” The hefty official wondered if he heard correctly, did he just call her Angel? The magistrate’s admiration of the Ayrians artwork and its people clued his favor for the missing winged race. “And this,” he motioned her, “Is the Ayrian Princess Tatiana.”

  Her heart pinged cold, and ready for combat. The magistrates’ cavalier reaction stumped her. Ceron’s heart skipped with excitement, though hid his shock. “An Ayrian princess. You are wise to keep hidden my…”

  She interrupted, “I am not art for your collection,” she stated dangerously, and rose grasping her pummel.

  “Angel, please,” Dregous said softly as he moved closer. “Trust in me,” he whispered.

  He called her Angel again, Ceron thought. How did they meet? He raised his hands, “I intended no insult, truly.”

  “Then why address me as such?” she hissed.

  “I…”

  Tatiana cut in, “Want to
take me as a trophy,” she leaned forward.

  Dregous barred her, “Angel please,” their eyes met.

  “Please forgive me…, allow me to…,” Ceron started.

  “To what, to mount and ride me as your conquest!” she growled, surprising Ceron.

  “Angel.”

  “She has every right. However, your people are free from danger,” he said quickly before he was interrupted again.

  Tatiana was unsure she heard correctly, “What?”

  “Free from danger my dear.”

  “Since when?” she asked cautiously.

  “Over a century ago, a knight saw the injustice and began a perilous campaign, championing the Ayrians. I too hold that banner. Though, like me, never expected your people to return, but hoped someday you would forgive our ignorance that caused your people unspeakable harm…, and shame.”

  Tatiana stepped back, “I need a moment,” she whispered and faced the window to absorb the news. Could it be true? If so, it is wonderful. My people must be informed, she thought.

  “Who was this knight?” Dregous probed as Tatiana gathered herself.

  “An honorable man named Hagen Tarbak. He conducted many grand deeds on behalf of the Ayrians.” The mage looked at the princess. “Now, to what honor I owe this distinguished visit from two illustrious individuals?” Ceron walked to the sweet meats.

  “I come at great jeopardy,” Dregous began.

  “You refer the civil war that may spill onto the surface?” Ceron asked.

  It is him, Dregous thought.

  “Oh, come now, I am no fool. This is no incident. Let us lay our bones on the table, shall we?” Ceron disarmed Dregous, “That aside, why come now?”

  “To inform a coming peril,” Dregous said, and wondered if Ceron knew the epicenter? The magistrates’ imperial political awareness was acute and recalled Tatiana’s warning. He had no credibility. The Dark Elf prince sensed where the conversation was heading.

  The magistrate waddle around his desk and rested on his chair. “Clearly humans have no great love for your people. Equally clear, you are unlike them,” he looked at Dregous, “Though matters have cooled, there is still apprehension. I ask that you leave before my hand is forced against you. I Truly wish you no harm,” he said politely and looked at some petitions on his desk.