Lore Of The Letharn (Book 2)

by Robert Ryan

  The banks to either side were overhung by many tress, mostly willows, and up and beyond them the hills rose and steepened into heather or fog-shrouded heights.

  So the day continued until they pulled up at a shallow bend of the river and drew the boat onto a shoal of sand in order to rest for lunch.

  “We’re a good way from Lòrenta now,” Lanrik said. “I think I’ll risk a fire.”

  Arliss collected some driftwood from nearby, and they established a camp. Although they did not use the fire to cook any food, it was comforting and gave them a sense of ease and rest. The sandy shoal, quiet and secluded, was just the sort of place that Lanrik loved. But soon the river called to him again and the urgency of the mission drove him on.

  “Time to move,” he said.

  They followed him back to the boat, but before he reached it, he stopped suddenly.

  “What is it?” Aranloth asked.

  By way of answer, Lanrik pointed.

  Far away up stream were six boats. And though they were half a mile away, the current of the river was bringing them swiftly to where the travelers stood.

  “Could it be fishermen from the village?” Lanrik asked.

  Aranloth stamped the end of his staff angrily into the sandy shore. “No,” he said. “They rarely come this far downstream. The Azan have somehow managed to find us – again.”

  Lanrik strode to the shuffa, and with the help of the others he pushed it into the current once more. They stepped in and paddled quickly, aiming for the center of the river where the current was strongest.

  When the flowing water took hold of them properly, Lanrik turned around and studied the enemy.

  “They’ve gained on us,” he said. “But things should even out from now on.”

  Arliss spoke up from the back of the boat. “Do you think they can catch us, Aranloth?”

  The lòhren did not pause in his paddling. “Not anytime soon,” he said. “The current is doing most of the work here, and that’s the same for both of us. But we have another problem.”

  Lanrik looked back to the front. “What’s that?” he asked.

  The lòhren kept his attention focused forward.

  “This is a big river, and it gets bigger as it goes. But we’re still in high country here, even though Lòrenta is behind us. By this afternoon we’ll reach a kind of escarpment. The river drops down it through the rapids that I told you about.”

  “Can we get through them?”

  Aranloth looked back for the first time. “They’re dangerous. The current is swift and unpredictable. Not only that, there are many boulders and rock ledges that could rip a shuffa apart in moments. No one ever risks it. Instead, they carry the boats down a track in the escarpment.”

  “How long does that take?”

  “Several hours,” Aranloth said.

  “Damn!” Lanrik cursed. “They’ll leave their boats behind and catch up to us.”

  “Most likely,” Aranloth admitted.

  “We could leave the shuffa behind,” Arliss mused, “but it’s a long walk to the Angle, and the Azan will still be close behind us.”

  “How did they find us so soon?” Lanrik asked.

  Aranloth ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. There’s something wrong. I know this, though. It wasn’t because of Ebona. They’re getting help from some other source.”

  Lanrik looked back over the river gain. The Azan had stopped gaining on them, but they were close enough that he could distinguish Musraka. The man had made a promise to chase him to the ends of the earth, and he was fulfilling it.

  “They must have attacked the settlement,” he said.

  Aranloth looked worried at the suggestion. “The villagers had warning, so I think they would have been prepared. More likely, the Azan just stole the boats, but they would not have got them without some kind of fight.”

  Arliss spoke up from the back again. “So, what are we going to do? It seems that we’ve outrun our luck. We can’t use the river much longer, and going on foot is just as dangerous.” She directed her next comment at Lanrik. “You might have to give Musraka the sword. It’s the only way out of this mess.”

  Aranloth grunted. “That’s not really an option.”

  “But you said yourself that we’re stuck. What other way is there?”

  The lòhren turned around and looked at them both.

  “There’s one other way,” he said.

  “What’s that?” Lanrik asked.

  “We’ll have to do what no one else ever has, and what I don’t think the desert dwelling Azan have the stomach for.”

  Arliss raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

  “We’ll risk the rapids.”

  Lanrik felt the blood drain from his face. “I thought you said that it couldn’t be done?”

  “No,” the lòhren replied. “I said it hadn’t been done, not that it couldn’t be. But it will be very dangerous. There’s a chance that the shuffa will be destroyed and we’ll be thrown into the raging waters.”

  Aranloth looked back again. “The choice is yours, Lanrik. Return the sword, or trust to our luck.”

  Lanrik thought about it. “How long do we have?”

  “Not long,” the lòhren replied. “Look downriver.”

  Lanrik did as instructed and realized that Aranloth was right. He saw the escarpment ahead. The river dropped and twisted over it in a spray of white froth and spume. The prospect of trying to get through that nearly paralyzed him with fear.

  It seemed that each choice he made lately only brought increased danger. Perhaps Arliss was right: the only way forward might be to give the sword back. But that filled him with as much fear as the rapids.

  He closed his eyes and calmed himself. There was no time for the deep and proper thought that he would like to give to the problem. He must do as Erlissa did, and trust to his instincts.

  When he opened his eyes, the rapids were nearer. But he had made his decision.

  8. A Shadow of Life

  Erlissa woke from a dreamless sleep. She sensed that little time had passed, and that disturbed her. Lanrik could not yet have found her cure, and Aranloth had assured her that until then she would rest in oblivion.

  The last thing she remembered was the lòhren. The power and skill that he had invoked at the fountain awed her, and the risk he had taken on her behalf was humbling. For though he had never said anything while they travelled, it became clear to her by the end that his attempt to save her jeopardized his own life. Had he made the slightest error, or misjudged the forces at play, the ùhrengai would have consumed him.

  But it had not. And she felt a bond of loyalty between them. One that had not existed before, but that was now unbreakable.

  She thought of her training as a lòhren, and the time Aranloth had invested in her. She had always known that his skill and power far surpassed her own, but now she realized how vast was the gulf that separated them. Yet he was always a kind and patient teacher.

  She recalled his comment that her sleep at the fountain would be one of total oblivion. How then had she woken?

  All about her was blackness. It was a dark so deep that it denied the existence of light itself. Nor could she feel or sense anything. She began to panic, and that disturbed her more, for all she felt was the emotion of panic: there was no racing heartbeat, no sweaty palms. There was nothing but an agitation of her mind.

  She reined in her scattered thoughts. That something was wrong was obvious, and yet she sensed no threat. She was safe within the protective force at the heart of Lòrenta. She sensed it all around her. It seemed to have no beginning or end. It had no purpose, at least none with her, but she was now linked to it and it to her. The enormity of that joining threatened to overwhelm her, for it seemed to encompass everything in the world, all that had happened and everything that yet could. She had a feeling that here, in the fathomless depth of the powers that moved and substanced the world, anything was possible. The immensity was too much for her to grasp, a
nd she felt panic rise again. She shied away from it and concentrated on the ordinary instead.

  Her thoughts turned to Lanrik, who was anything but ordinary; yet picturing his face was calming. At least until she remembered that Arliss was with him at the fountain. How could he be so smart about some things and so stupid about others? It was obvious that the girl wanted him, but he seemed unaware of her feelings. That would not last, not now that Arliss had a free hand to act on her desire.

  Erlissa realized that she should be jealous, that other girls would have been, but she had always been different. Lanrik would make his own choices, and things would turn out one way or the other. It was out of her control, although she regretted her coolness to him lately. He thought their different responsibilities were drawing them apart, and it was, but it was also her reaction to Arliss. Perhaps she did get jealous after all.

  Somewhere in the deeps of the great dark she heard a voice. It was not Lanrik’s. It was a female; and though she could not grasp the meaning of the words, they resounded with power and determination. Unexpectedly, the dark spun around her. Where there had been nothing before, there was up and down, left and right, and an unnerving sensation of falling.

  Light blazed into her eyes. Noise drowned her ears, and sensations racked her skin like a thousand cutting knives. She screamed, and her lungs emptied of air, but she knew that she was alive again, out of the great dark, and yet her feeling that something was wrong only grew.

  Her eyes adjusted to the light, and she realized that it was not bright at all. About her was the grey of dawn. She felt green grass on her back, lush and thick, and she sat upright. It was then that she saw the speaker.

  Ahead of her, standing on a turf-covered mound, was the Guardian of Enorìen. The muscles beneath her bare skin flexed and rippled at her slightest move. Dark hair fell in waves from her proud head, and her green-brown eyes, alert and wary like a wild animal’s, scrutinized her.

  “You answered my call,” the Guardian said.

  Erlissa sat up. She was dizzy but found her voice.

  “What’s happening, Carnona? Why am I here? How am I here?”

  Carnona stepped off the mound and walked close.

  “How I summoned you does not matter. You are here. That is the only thing of importance.”

  The Guardian hesitated, and a look of uncertainty covered her face. When she spoke again, it was with a softer tone.

  “Perhaps I should tell you. It will help you to understand what I want.”

  Carnona frowned, looking like she was deep in thought or trying to find words for ideas that she guessed were beyond Erlissa’s grasp.

  “Aranloth joined you to the ùhrengai of Lòrenta, and I know why he did so. Little happens in the land that I am unaware of, for some things I see before they happen, and much else is obvious to those who open their minds and think. And just as you can walk, step by step from Lòrenta to these hills, the ùhrengai of the land is linked. It all has one source. If one part of it is touched, the disturbance will travel through the whole just as ripples cross the surface of a pond after a pebble is cast into it.” Carnona gazed at her intently. “You are that pebble.”

  Erlissa stood up. It was good to feel the earth beneath her feet, but she realized something unnerving.

  “I cannot be in two places at once. So if I’m the pebble, the real me is still at Lòrenta.” She gestured at her body. “This is just the ripple.”

  The Guardian studied her with unblinking eyes.

  “Few among your kind would understand that. Aranloth chose you wisely. You are indeed the ripple, a shadow of life. And not even ùhrengai can long keep you here, for you are also still in Lòrenta, and nature will draw you back to your true self, just as water seeks lower ground.”

  Erlissa was wobbly on her legs, but she felt her shadow-body fill with strength at her every breath and movement. The forest of Enorìen ringed the grassy glade in which she stood. Ancient trees leaned over it, as though listening. She sensed it was a place of power, and she could feel the ùhrengai of the land pulse and flow beneath her feet.

  “Very well. I understand how I came to be here, but why am I here?”

  Carnona looked at her with expressionless eyes.

  “You made a commitment when Aranloth retrieved the mistletoe berries. Now, listen carefully, for time slips away. I am ready to call on you to uphold your promise. But just as I said then, I will say also now. The decision is yours whether or not you will fulfill the task I set you. I cannot force you, nor would I in this matter even if I could. If you deny my request, I will return you to Lòrenta, and you will sleep in oblivion until Aranloth returns and wakes you. If he returns with the cure for the poison that ails your true body.”

  Erlissa felt a stab of fear. She did not like Carnona’s implied observation that the others were in danger. But that was out of her control now.

  “Tell me what you want,” she said.

  The Guardian gazed at her with intent eyes, as though weighing her up and examining the stuff of which she was made.

  “The situation is simple. Ebona is, as you would say, my sister. We were both born of the world at the same time. Once, our realms were wider than they are now.” She swept a hand around in an arc, and the skin of her arm glowed nut-brown at the touch of the morning sun. “But my heartland is here, just as hers was far to the west. Yet after long ages, when Men multiplied and swarmed across the land, she chose to influence them, and she gathered power from their worship and sacrifice. When they migrated eastward, she abandoned her realm and followed them. I stayed true to my nature. I guarded my heartland from the ravages of civilization and nurtured it.”

  Erlissa nodded. “Aranloth has told me something of your origin and past. I know more of his overthrow of Ebona. It seems her avarice betrayed her, for she lost both the lands of her birthing and her influence over mankind.”

  Carnona gave a curt nod. “That is so. She became much diminished. Yet she would be again what she once was. Moreover, she has the ability to achieve that goal.”

  Carnona shivered and her eyes burned. Whether it was with fear, hatred, or some other emotion, Erlissa could not tell.

  “I have paid her little heed,” Carnona said, “until now. For this winter she began an attempt to usurp my heartland, to make it, and the ùhrengai that sustains it, her own. She would replace what she once lost, and combine it with her influence over Men. Her sway over Esgallien grows apace, and now also her long arm reaches out to Camarelon. In this, she is assisted. The elùgroth who assaulted Lòrenta aids her.”

  Erlissa shuddered. Elù-Randùr. She knew him. Despised him. And feared him too. He had escaped the destruction of his brethren at Lòrenta. But his words had burned her. He had said that she was a sister to his kind. There was truth in his accusation, or there would be if she was not careful with her power. She took it as a warning: it was her responsibility to ensure it never came true.

  Erlissa frowned. Something did not quite seem right.

  “Surely, here in your own heartland, you are stronger than Ebona. You can repel her.”

  “Yes. And I have done so for many months. But her strength ever waxes. And the power of the elùgroth upholds her while I weaken. I can hold her off. But it is increasingly hard. One day, one day soon, she will prevail.”

  “And what are the consequences of that?”

  “Her power will mature. She will gather armies and ravage the land with war. She feeds on death, and combined with Elù-Randùr, many realms of Alithoras will fall. By the time they become jealous of each other’s growing power, they will have destroyed much of the land.”

  The sun rose over the tops of the trees and birdsong swelled through the forest. Erlissa felt the power and beauty of this ancient land, untouched by the hand of man. The feeling was at odds with Carnona’s fear.

  “Very well. I understand your predicament. But what do you want with me? I’m the least of the lòhrens. In fact, I’m only a lòhren in training. I haven’t ev
en earned my staff yet. Nor will I be a lòhren until I get it.”

  Carnona smiled. Her face was as changeable as the weather in spring. “Aranloth has not told you?”

  “Told me what?”

  "A lòhren does not earn their staff. It is not given after passing a test. It is found. Its nature is determined by the need of the land.”

  That was news to Erlissa. She wondered why Aranloth had never mentioned it.

  “With or without a staff, how can I help you?”

  “You can do what I cannot. You can leave this land, you can travel to where Ebona lairs with the elùgroth and break the source of her power.”

  Erlissa felt her heart sink. She could think of nothing for which she was less suited, or that filled her with more fear. But she owed it to Carnona to hear her out.

  “And what exactly is the source of her power?”

  “I will tell you that in time. For now though, you must understand something. Alithoras is in great peril. I can aid you a little, but only you can defeat Ebona and the elùgroth. There is no one else. I am weak if I leave here. Likewise, the form you now wear is but a shadow of yourself. It will diminish over time. Each day that passes you will fade a little more, until your shadow-self flows back to Lòrenta. But in the meantime, if you are hurt, or killed, your true body will likewise suffer.”

  Carnona gazed at her, revealing nothing of what she thought.

  “Will you accept the quest?”

  9. Like Many, but Trust Few

  Lanrik gazed at the upcoming rapids. White froth and foam rode high on the water, and a growing roar filled his ears. He yelled in order for the others to hear him above the tumult.

  “Onwards!”

  He did not need to say anything else. Aranloth glanced back briefly and gave him a curt nod. The lòhren’s face was hard to read, but he seemed to approve of the decision. Arliss muttered behind him, and he knew she was less happy with the choice, but she made no attempt to talk him out of it.

  The shuffa gathered speed, and the banks of the river sped past in a blur. Lanrik had a vague impression of rocky slopes on both sides and a twisted trail that descended the tree-clad ridges on the left.