Remnant of Power

Chapter Forty-one

Yavenna

Shuyan was waiting for them outside the hall. He eyed them cautiously and Yavenna saw him checking to see that Gared's wrists were still bound. He led them off from the hall into the trees. Just when Yavenna was starting to wish she'd eaten more food in the hall, she saw a cluster of silvery trees ahead, gleaming in the soft evening sunlight that filtered through the leaf canopy. Two streams flowed from them, joining into one which led down towards her. The trees were growing so close together that there was no space in between the trunks, apart from the two middle trees, where there was a beautiful metal door, embellished with tracery.

Either side of the door stood a male Dryad, each with a bow on one shoulder, and an elegant sword hanging from their waist. One of them had deeply ridged grey-brown skin, his hair was light green, the other had darker skin and dark green hair threaded with holly leaves. He pushed open the metal door and waved his hand for them to go in. A silvery pool gleamed in the room inside, surrounded by chairs like those in the hall. Two Dryads sat waiting for them. They both stood up as the companions entered their room.

"Welcome, friends," the male began, in a low resonant voice, as their visitors sat down, the Talahund arranging themselves around the pool. "I am Digheldan and this is Treghanna." The female Dryad didn't smile, but bowed and sat down again on the chair, the blood-red leaves that formed a shift over her body rustling as she moved. More red leaves were threaded through her shiny brown hair and the dark brown eyes that stared out of her purple-brown face seemed both ageless and ancient at the same time. It was Treghanna who spoke first.

"We have heard Lord Giryan's story of the troubles that have befallen your friend and the humans and Ithrim in Arvad. While we sympathize, of course, it is our view that we Dryads cannot head straight into battle with a clear conscience until we have attempted to treat with the King." Here she reached over and clasped her husband's hand.

"Remember, mankind has a different view of war to Dryads. We Dryads value every being. We know that war means death, and we are not prepared to lose any of our people. When Men plan war they always know that a quota of their warriors will die, but they accept that and find it a price they are willing to pay. The kingdoms of men are built on the blood of their people."

She looked at each one of them as she spoke, and when the ancient eyes met Yavenna's, all she could think of was that the woman was speaking the truth, and how reasonable she sounded. Then when her probing gaze moved on, Yavenna immediately thought of Mal. She had to tell her how wicked the King was.

Digheldan continued. "So we propose that we'll help you by sending envoys to speak to Ulric to try to resolve the issues Giryan has described. We consider that there is every hope of finding a solution. Ulric is no fool."

"However, in acknowledgement of the disturbances you have witnessed, Giryan, as a precaution, we will retrieve our weapons from the underground chamber and you are welcome to take whatever you desire."

Yavenna looked at the faces of the others. Giryan's face was pale, paler than usual, and she could see tension in his jaw. Ragnar was sitting as still as a statue, and hadn't moved for the entire time the Dryads were speaking; his eyes looked empty, as if they'd suddenly lost all hope. Only Gared was moving, fidgeting in his chair, twisting the wrist cords as if he was desperate to pull them off.

The Layeithas didn't understand, she could see that. "Your Majesties, excuse me," She ignored Giryan's frown. "I was brought to Arvad to marry Ulric, but when I found out how very cruel he was, I chose to run away. He's a murderer and he kills whoever he wants to get rid of. He's not a good King. Nothing about him is good. Please help us to replace him. We don't want war either, but he's reigning by terror."

Treghanna smiled at her, as though she was indulging a small child. "Thank you, Princess Yavenna. Our minds are made up."

"If there's a possibility of averting the deaths of so many people, Giryan, then I think we would be fools not to try it," said Digheldan, folding his arms across his chest. "I do not think we can head straight into battle with a clear conscience until we have attempted to treat with the King. Envoys will leave at midday tomorrow, and will travel openly. If the King hears news of our journey it may make him more disposed to listen to our requests. Friends, I would ask you to return to your rulers and let them know of our decision. Perhaps they will join us in sending peaceful envoys."

He and Treghanna rustled briskly from the room. The door guards appeared and waved them outside.

"It's pathetic!" Gared burst out, as soon as they were outside. "They only care about themselves. Well, they'll get a shock when Ulric destroys the rest of the country and then starts on them. For goodness sake, will you cut these bloody cords off now please Giryan?" Channa grabbed her dagger and sliced the rope. Giryan leant against a tree, his head in his hands.

"I really can't believe it," Yavenna heard him say.

Channa hugged Giryan, "Perhaps they will change their minds."

"I doubt that very much, we should have expected this. They have kept themselves to themselves for too long. They have got used to peace, and now they take it for granted."

Gared walked in front, shaking his head.

Yavenna grabbed a handful of Torun's mane and walked in between him and Ragnar. Why wouldn't the Dryads help? What on earth would they do now? More delay. More time for Mal trapped in the castle. He could be dead now already.

Suddenly Gared spun around and faced Yavenna, his handsome face burning red.

"Remind me, Princess, why exactly was it that you chose to leave my friend a prisoner in the evil King's castle?" Yavenna looked at him, an expression of shock on her face. Why did he say that? She'd tried everything she could to get Mal out.

"Well, I didn't really choose to..." she began. "I really wanted to get him out, I wanted to help him..."

"Well, you can't have wanted to that much, can you? You knew your way out of the castle. Why didn't you lead him to safety and escape then?"

"Well I..."

"Or did you say that when you met him there were too many soldiers and it would've been unfeasible?"

"No, actually, I only saw one soldier the night I went into his room."

"ONE soldier! Well, you could've fought one soldier between you, couldn't you? Or," and here he looked her up and down scornfully, "What about if you are an Ithrim after all? Surely then you could have easily fought off one soldier on your own? Why did you leave him, Yavenna? It seems cowardly to me"

She looked up at him, her face devoid of all color. Then she darted up to him and slapped him, hard, on the left cheek. Choking back a sob, she ran off into the trees.