by C S Marks
He reflected that such talent and such a difficult creation as Gorgon had been wasted for too many years in hiding and striking down a few Elves. It was time to unleash the power Wrothgar had labored so long to develop, and to do this effectively Gorgon would need to learn the ways of a field commander.
Along with Kharsh, Wrothgar had sent nearly thirty Warrior- Ulcas that would make a worthy force against a relatively small host of men or Elves. They wielded various weapons; some were adept archers, others were more formidable with blades, axes, or clubs. They did not love Gorgon either, but in fear of Wrothgar they would do as they were told. Gorgon’s obvious disdain for the Ulcas and his (in their eyes) glaringly Elven features and mannerisms made for an uncooperative beginning.
Kharsh knew that although Gorgon understood Ulcan speech quite well, he would not use it. Communication had been difficult at first, for none of the Ulcas save Kharsh spoke or understood any form of Elven-tongue, which Gorgon preferred. He stubbornly refused to address them in the common tongue, until Kharsh had pointed out that Wrothgar would indeed be disappointed should his hand-picked army fail for lack of clear direction. Gorgon then wisely reconsidered. He had actually killed two of his own Ulcas before their purpose was made plain to him, and Kharsh worried that Gorgon might be so undisciplined that he might not be able to carry out Wrothgar’s commands
Then Kharsh became aware that Gorgon really did fear Wrothgar, and the situation eased. Regardless of his prideful nature, Gorgon would not openly defy the Shadowmancer, and thus, in spite of himself he would submit and allow Kharsh to complete his task. Kharsh tried to win Gorgon’s begrudging acceptance by tantalizing him with promises of the destructive capabilities of his new command. Now Gorgon could, with planning and insights provided by the mirror, do considerably more damage upon the Elves, to his anticipated delight. Kharsh hoped that they would soon have an opportunity for mayhem, as both Gorgon and the Ulcas were growing restless.
Kharsh and the Ulcas had spent several weeks training with their new commander, and now they were ready to venture forth, for they had been presented with an opportunity. Gorgon had learned that a group of about a dozen Elves were traveling to the Cold-spring to relieve those on the far watch. Gorgon and Kharsh had some trouble convincing the Ulcas that they could endure the daylight even for so short a time, but that day the sun was dimmed by clouds, and their armor shielded them.
The Elves were taken unaware. Two of the sentinels were felled by Gorgon’s weapon as they stood watch in the tree-tops. The others fell quickly enough, though two of the Ulcas were slain by the Elves’ bows before they were taken. Soon the anticipated group of twelve appeared, and they were surrounded. They were utterly surprised and put up only as much struggle as their light armaments would allow, standing no chance against this well-armed and armored force. The dead Elves were dragged off and hidden deep underground. When the host departed there was very little sign for anyone to read, and there would be even less two days later, when a small party came from Tal-sithian to investigate. This attack bore none of the usual signs or methods Gorgon normally employed, and the Elves were confused and mystified. Gorgon was now much more appreciative of his "lowly minions".
Nelwyn finally found Fima in the early evening as he sat down to an evening repast with several of the Elves of Tal-sithian. They were enjoying their food, drink, and conversation, and Nelwyn did not wish to disturb them, but she wanted to ask Fima about the Stone of Léir without anyone else overhearing.
She hung back in the shadows behind a large vine-covered rock until Fima noticed her and invited her to join him. She approached and sat between Fima and the Elves, who were engaged in a lively discussion regarding the Time of Mystery and the interpretations that had been recorded since. Nelwyn listened with fascination, for she knew little of such things.
Eventually the Elves took their leave, and Nelwyn and Fima were alone. After a brief but awkward silence, Nelwyn turned to the dwarf, who had already guessed that she had not come only to socialize with him.
"You know a great deal about the history and lore of the Elves, Fima. Have you much knowledge of the people of Tal-sithian?"
Fima shrugged. "Some, Nelwyn, but they have kept many of their secrets well. What would you seek to learn of them?"
Nelwyn came directly to the point, for she knew that was Fima’s preferred way in all things. "This is said to be the resting-place of the Stone of Léir. Do you know of and understand its workings? If so, what knowledge can you share with me?"
Fima looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and interest. "It is one of the things of Tal-sithian that I do know a listtle about, Nelwyn, though perhaps not as much as needed. How came you to learn of it, and why do you wish to know?"
Nelwyn told him of the conversation she had overheard between Rogond and Amandir, flushing a little as she admitted listening in secret. Fima smiled slightly at her—he did not blame Nelwyn for her action and was now enjoying the fact that he, too, was privy to the conversation. When she revealed Amandir’s words concerning Gaelen, Fima’s eyes hardened and he made a deep rumbling sound in his throat which Nelwyn interpreted as disapproval. He let her finish her tale, then drew a long breath.
"Good for Rogond. Someone needed to inform that fellow Amandir that he had best watch his step and curb his unworthy opinions of your little cousin. In league with Gorgon, is she? He obviously didn’t see her in Cós-domhain. She fought off that armored giant with only her short sword—I still marvel that she escaped with her life. Alas that Belegund was not so fortunate. At any rate, this Amandir sounds like a load of confusing rubbish to me—typical vague Elvish nonsense, begging your pardon."
Nelwyn smiled, as no offense had been taken. She was inclined to agree with Fima.
"I will reveal what I know of the Stone," Fima continued. "It is kept in seclusion near the Greenwood Hill; you have probably passed close by without realizing it."
He paused and drew out his long clay pipe and a leather tobacco- pouch, filled the pipe and lighted it. Soon he was drawing contentedly, sending fine wisps of blue smoke heavenward. Nelwyn tensed as she became aware of a presence only a few feet away from Fima, but then relaxed as Gaelen’s tousled head and bright eyes appeared among the leaves. She smiled as Fima gave a startled gasp, and then glared at her. "Well, Lore-master! You have relaxed your vigilance in the Lake-realm, I see," Gaelen observed.
Fima shook his head. "I do wish you would stop doing that! You will startle me once too often one day." Ignoring the comment, Gaelen crossed to sit beside Nelwyn, apparently in quite a cheerful mood.
"Continue your tale, O Wise Dwarf, if you can pause long enough from your pipe. I would also hear of the Stone. It sounds interesting! What does it do?"
Fima sent forth a long curl of smoke before responding. "It shows the past, the present, and some say the future. Lord Shandor controls it…I would not look into such a thing for any amount of wealth! From what I’ve heard, the visions may be enlightening, but are often confusing, are always unpredictable, and are seldom uplifting. Not a few have gone mad upon viewing them. Thus Lady Arialde guards the Stone, and she will not permit its use outside her presence. She also sees what is seen by those who look into it, so unless you wish to share your visions with her, I would suggest you abandon doing what I believe you are thinking of doing."
Gaelen and Nelwyn looked innocently at one another. "And what is that, Fima?" they responded in perfect unison.
"You are planning to have a look and see whether you can gain any insights into your course in pursuit of Gorgon, is what! And neither of you were intending to ask permission if I am any judge. But you must, for if you disturb Lord Shandor without leave, you’ll regret it! I would advise against this course, because I fear for both of you. You will see nothing encouraging." So saying, he rose and went from the glade, taking his pipe and a vessel of wine to pass the night in cheerful solitude. But he threw one last look back at Gaelen, for he could read the desire in her face. "Do not go lo
oking for the Stone… you will not find it."
Gaelen and Nelwyn watched him go then turned to one another, both their faces set. "I would not object to any insight the Stone might give as to where our enemy is hiding," said Gaelen.
"But you heard Fima—the Stone is unpredictable. Lord Shandor does not perform on command, showing us what we desire to see. If we look, we may even go mad!" said Nelwyn with a shiver.
She was right to worry. Yet she had sought the information because Fima was correct—Nelwyn had wanted to look into the Stone and gain what it had to give. She turned to Gaelen. "Let us seek out Arialde, and see whether she will agree. If so, and she does not advise strongly against it, I would look into the Stone with you." "Fine, then let us seek her tomorrow evening. I am pleasantly weary from riding—it felt so good to roam free again! I hope we can soon leave for the Greatwood. This is a delightful place, and I am grateful for the time of healing, but we must move on. So long as that creature exists, I will not truly rest. For now, let’s ascend into the tree-tops. The rain has passed, and the stars are bright tonight!" "First, I must find Galador. He worries when he does not know my whereabouts," said Nelwyn.
Gaelen shook her head. "What harm could befall you in Tal- sithian? Does he fear you will fall from a tree and break your neck?" "Stop it, Gaelen! You know he simply wants to keep me safe.
We may both find you later. The stars will be no less bright then, you know."
Gaelen rose and turned from her. "Don’t bother to find me later, Nelwyn. I’m certain Galador would much rather spend time alone with you…yet again. I shall amuse myself on this fine evening. I am merely grateful that he allowed you to ride with me across such dangerous lands. We might have encountered some fierce ground squirrel, or you might have fallen from your horse, who knows?"
Gaelen knew that her words and the mildly disgusted tone of her voice pained Nelwyn, but she didn’t care. She left her gentle, good- natured cousin standing alone with nothing to say to her as she went in search of Rogond.
Gaelen was still worried about Rogond’s reference to her in Cós-domhain as his "love". She had not yet spoken of it with him, but she knew that she must soon do so. Tonight was not the time to bring up such things, however. The fact that Rogond was nearby, and would no doubt be delighted to share the stars with her, brought great comfort. She hoped he was not too weary, but if so she would lie beside him and sing to him until the dawn came.
Nelwyn found Galador almost immediately. He had, in fact, been searching for her, not out of concern for her safety but simply because he wished for her company. He embraced her, and she expressed the desire to climb a tree and see the stars, which, as Gaelen had predicted, were very bright now that the rain had cleared and the moon had set.
"I suppose you will want to find Gaelen and ask her to join us," said Galador good-naturedly. He normally enjoyed Gaelen’s company, even if he did prefer being alone with Nelwyn.
Nelwyn shook her head. "She does not want our company tonight. I do so wish she did not begrudge my time with you. She’s probably sulking right now. No matter, she will be in a better mind by morning. She has not been herself since we rode out today and met the Elves going to the Cold-spring. She felt something, and it wasn’t good."
From their vantage-point beneath the stars, Nelwyn told Galador of her intention to seek Arialde and request permission to look into the Stone of Léir.
Galador frowned at her. "From what I’ve heard, the Stone reveals little of joy and much of grief. It can be very frightening and can even mislead if misinterpreted. Do as you will, but know that my advice is to stay away from the Stone of Léir. And by all means, keep Gaelen from it! She has no business being anywhere near an object of such power." Then he shook his head, for he knew there was about as much chance of Gaelen’s taking this excellent advice as the Lord of Eádros giving the hand of his only daughter to one of the dwarves of Rûmm.
Gaelen paused in her search for Rogond as she found herself near the tall trees that surrounded the home of Arialde and Lord Airan. Her curiosity had been awakened, and her hunter-scout’s nature insisted that she should investigate the area, just in case. Gaelen’s inquisitiveness was considered overdeveloped, even for a Wood-elf, and Fima had practically dared her to try to find the Stone, which she correctly guessed would not be too far away from the abode of Arialde.
She moved through the darkness in absolute silence until she finally caught a scent of the Lady, then she followed the scent until it led her into a glade surrounded by thick, fragrant cedars. Gaelen had hoped to find Arialde, but as she shyly entered the glade her breath was taken by the sight of thousands of fireflies flashing and hovering in the night air like gentle golden sparks. She had never seen so many! They were obviously drawn to the enormous crystal that stood upon a pedestal of carved red granite, emitting a soft glow in the reflected light of the fireflies and the bright stars.
Gaelen was drawn irresistibly toward it, despite her feeling that not only should she avoid looking into its depths, but that she probably should not have invaded the glade in the first place. Still, she approached until she was near enough to mount the base of the pedestal. The crystal glowed white before her, as if sensing her desire, yet there was a slightly menacing aspect emanating from it, as though it warned her to keep her eyes elsewhere. Gaelen stood helpless for a moment, eyes shut tight, her hands cold and her heart pounding. It was not too late to turn about; but alas, she was the victim of her own inescapable curiosity. After all, she probably would see nothing—hadn’t Fima suggested that, outside the presence of the Lady, the Stone was nothing but a large rock?
Gaelen opened her eyes and looked at the crystal with a mixture of apprehension and wonder. What she saw was both beautiful and intriguing. There were an infinite number of flat, silvery planes within; they reflected the light in a myriad of interesting ways. Gaelen wondered how the Stone would appear in sunlight, and her eyes shone with delight at the thought of it.
A sudden feeling of foreboding came over her, and she knew that she should look no further, but the crystal shifted even as she tried to turn from it. An image began to form, and she began to hear voices. The clear surface roiled as though under tremendous heat, engulfing her senses with a vision so intense that she tried to reel back from it. It was too late to turn aside, and she was drawn into the grasp of the Stone, afflicted by a sight that she should never have seen.
She felt her senses blurring and whirling in a mass of light and sound, and she struggled to control the feeling that she was falling headlong into a maelstrom. This terrible, unsettling feeling of falling came to an abrupt end, but she was no longer in the glade—she was standing on a battlefield. The vision proceeded with inexorable, blinding speed. The Elves were beleaguered by thousands of enemies—banners from many realms waved their tattered, ghostly colors in a wind that stank of blood and sulfur. Gaelen looked down at her hands, which were now encased in armored gauntlets, realizing that she viewed this terrible scene through the eyes of one of the warriors who had actually been there. She could not control her body, not tear her eyes from the scene before her.
There were many dark and evil creatures, wearing black robes that glowed and flickered as though with fire. She could not see their faces. Their fingers were long and gnarled, with sharp claws, and they drove back the host of Elves with flames that burst forth from their hands. Gaelen recognized Magra among the Elves. He was struggling valiantly to get past the creatures, to no avail. All about them was a suffocating cloud of fear.
In the center of the fray, two warriors strove with one another to the death. One was immense, a terrible, monstrous entity engulfed in peculiar dark flames that sprang from the core of his own being. He wrestled in mortal combat with a smaller being of no less brilliance— an Elven-lord, blue-white and blinding to behold. Gaelen knew him at once! Her beloved Ri-Elathan strove against the Lord of Black Flame, and she could neither aid him nor prevent his terrible death.
The circle of demonic
creatures kept any aid from reaching the Elvenking, yet he fought to the limits of his considerable power, and Wrothgar was weakening. But then, the Shadowmancer opened his great maw, showing terrible sharp teeth, and brought his flaming jaws down upon Ri-Elathan, biting hard into his right shoulder. The flames spread from the wound, overpowering the Light of truth, of courage and freedom, and Ri-Elathan was slowly consumed by it, overcome by the power of Wrothgar’s evil. Gaelen could smell the stench of brimstone and burning flesh.
Still Ri-Elathan fought, despite unspeakable pain, screaming as the flames took him. Gaelen saw him turn his determined, agonized face toward her, and she looked into the eyes of her beloved Rain as Wrothgar overcame the last of his waning power, quenching his light forever. Ri-Elathan continued to fight as his life was ripped from him, his eyes unseeing, his jaws locked in a final grimace of determination, but even as he died Gaelen felt his bitter disappointment, for he knew that he had failed. Wrothgar then threw his head back and laughed, hurling the body of his victim past the dark circle of fire that surrounded them. It landed, still aflame, at the feet of Magra.
Gaelen gave a heart-wrenching cry of despair, her hands reaching toward the fading image of Farahin’s ruined, smoldering body, cast aside by Wrothgar. She looked into his dead eyes and read his despair in them. She also read his longing for her. She cried again, screaming his name, horrified almost beyond return...then she felt hands grasping her shoulders as someone pulled her back from the Stone, turned her around, and called her name in a powerful voice. "Gaelen! Gaelen! Do not keep this vision in thy mind! Turn from it and come back to me. Come back! This horror is long past. Come back. Shandor, RELEASE HER!"