Elfhunter

by C S Marks

  Everything would be set in motion by signals from the four lookouts stationed one on each side of the hill. They would alert the "council" that the attack was imminent, and everyone would then move into position. Gaelen would leave first so that Gorgon could not accidentally observe the others. She would take her place among the archers and scan the empty horizon, looking out toward the forest, giving him no sign.

  Wellyn and Rogond surveyed the scene, turning to regard one another in silence. Finally, Rogond spoke. "Will we be able to hold them off, do you think?"

  "I don’t know," Wellyn replied, "but if all goes according to design, I believe we will stand a good chance. Our folk will move swiftly once they are summoned, and none will evade them. This creature is outmatched; he cannot possibly escape."

  Rogond lowered his dark brows, his eyes narrowing slightly as he thought of Gorgon. "You have not yet encountered him, Wellyn. I will assume nothing impossible until he lies dead before us. But I have faith in your folk. I look forward to the end of this, when our task is completed and Gorgon vanquished. And more than seeing him dead, more than safeguarding the Woodland, more even than avenging my friends, I would see Gaelen set free. It is my deepest desire. I know that must seem odd…."

  Wellyn shook his head, his long, dark hair lifting gently in the early morning breeze. "It does not seem at all odd to me, Tuathan. Let us return to the council-chamber. You must aid me in making certain that I more closely resemble my father!" Rogond followed him, reflecting on the fact that the council would begin on the morrow, and after that, when darkness fell, the night would be long indeed.

  That evening, the defenders were making their final preparations for the council and the events that would follow. The lookouts were stationed, as they were every night, but they raised no alarm. Everyone on the hilltop knew that many would not survive the conflict to come, and they spent what might be their last night of life in contemplation and fellowship.

  Galador sat alone, waiting for Nelwyn, who had promised to join him at moonrise. The moon was only a tiny sliver of light, for tomorrow it would be renewed, and the sky would be dark save for the brilliant stars. Gaelen had sensed a change in the air, most likely a weather front, and had noted with regret that they would see no stars on the night of battle. She would be gazing at them now, as would many of the Elves this night. Hearing a small sound behind him Galador turned to regard not Nelwyn, but one of the Elves of Tal-sithian. She approached Galador, asking to sit beside him for a moment, for she would speak with him.

  "Do not be concerned, Galador of Eádros, for you are known to me. I have not revealed myself to you, for I was waiting to see whether you would remember my face." Galador looked hard at her, and indeed saw something familiar in her eyes.

  "It does not offend me that you don’t remember, for it has been long since we have spoken. Yet, if you search your thoughts, you may recall it."

  Galador’s brow furrowed in concentration, and then a light appeared in his eyes. "Oriana? Beloved of my friend Galwaith…can it be you, after all these ages?"

  She nodded, smiling with pleasure that he had remembered. "It has been long, Elf of Eádros, since you were in the favor of the King. Much has passed since then. I made my way to the Verdant Mountains and eventually to the Realm of Tal-sithian when Eádros fell and Galwaith was slain. He never did forget you, my friend. He wept for your banishment, and even I could not soothe his heart for a long time."

  Galador had not thought of his home in Eádros, or of his friend Galwaith, in untold years. He embraced Oriana, embracing his past as he did so, weeping in grief for his friend who was lost and for the loss of all that he had loved so long ago. She comforted him with her gentle voice and hands, though she wept also at the memories brought back in those moments. At last, she dried her tears.

  "Do not weep, Galador, truest of friends. You have made a new, happy life for yourself now, even as I have done. Yet I am glad for this time, on the eve of battle, that I might recall the one whose love we both shared. I shall keep a special watch over you tomorrow, for his sake. But now, your beloved is approaching, and I will take my leave. Know this ‘ere I depart—you were missed and mourned by many. There were those who protested your banishment, and they nearly moved the King to relent, but his heart was hardened, and they did not succeed. I was among them." She embraced him one last time before leaving him. He did not see her again until the battle was joined.

  Gaelen spent the night in solitude, for she was filled with anxiety and did not wish to risk betraying this to Gorgon. She had been taken by an oppressive sense of foreboding; somehow, Gorgon would slip from her grasp. She climbed the rim of the hilltop, stood silhouetted against the backdrop of brilliant stars, and sang a song of the Light of Elysia. Every Elf in hearing paused and hearkened to it, for the voices of the Sylvan Elves were among the most beautiful to be heard. Not a few bowed their heads in reverence, as they knew that many would soon be journeying to those Far Shores. Five hundred dark warriors would need to be held off for nearly thirty minutes. The task before the Wood-elves was formidable, but their spirits were united in their resolve. Several raised their voices to join Gaelen’s then, and the plateau echoed with ethereal harmony. It was carried on the south wind until it reached the ears of Ri-Aruin’s forces, away from Gorgon’s army, which was just as well.

  Chapter 29: Fire and Rain

  Gorgon grimaced as he endured the pain of the mirror, for he had held it nearly constantly upon this day, the final day before the confrontation that he had come to name the "Night of Reckoning". He was still disquieted, still unable to free himself from the feeling that his army had been anticipated. The Elves seemed tense, somehow, and Gorgon had learned to watch Rogond, for he knew that the Ranger, who was normally quite relaxed and confident, would serve as an excellent indicator. If Rogond appeared uneasy or apprehensive, Gorgon would suspect that something was afoot and would pay very close attention until he learned the nature of it.

  He had gone over his own attack plans once more with Kharsh and his three other lieutenants, each of whom would command a phalanx of Gorgon’s formidable host. Each would attack from a different direction, surrounding the Elves so that none would escape. Kharsh would take the way from the north, which would be the most difficult, as it encompassed a deep ravine before ascending the very steep hillside to the rim. The others would take the eastern, southern and western faces of the hill, first locating and eliminating all lookouts; there would no doubt be several of those.

  Gorgon didn’t worry too much about the Elves raising the alarm—after all, they would be occupied in council and were not expecting him. At least, that was what his reason told him. His heart, however, remained in doubt. Best take down the lookouts anyway, just as a precaution. Then his forces would move as quietly as they could toward the summit, unless the Elves engaged them, in which case an all-out attack would begin.

  The Elves would no doubt station archers immediately, but there was plenty of cover upon the rocky hillside, and Gorgon had instructed his commanders to make use of it. Gorgon himself would wait until the Elves fell back beyond the rim of the summit, then he would move from behind, working his way through to engage them. Their force would be fairly well decimated by then, and he assumed that his risk would be small. He would make certain that none escaped, and when Ri-Aruin and Magra both were dead, he would claim his tokens. Lord Wrothgar would have His prize.

  If his doubts were well founded, if the Elves knew of his presence and were prepared, then Gorgon would retreat. He must not fall this night, for he had not yet achieved his vengeance upon the Elàni. Another chance would come; he would simply have to explain to the Shadowmancer. For a moment he wondered whether death in battle might be preferable, but to die at the hands of the Elves was an ignominious fate that he would never accept. He would proceed for now, but he would remain wary, mindful of all that the mirror would tell him.

  The council had begun, and the Elves were presently attending to Nelwyn, who
was describing events from the finding of Talrodin to the dividing of the Company. Then Gaelen would tell of her experiences in Cós-domhain. Gorgon listened with prideful fascination as she related the horrors she had witnessed. Rogond spoke of the mysterious deaths in the Verdant Mountains, and Thorndil told of his encounter. But it was the tale of the Elves of Tal-sithian that truly mesmerized Gorgon. Here he learned of his mother, Brinneal, and of Amandir, her beloved. He had not known his mother’s name until now, nor the tale of her abduction. The Elves of Tal-sithian sorrowed for Gorgon, and they all pitied him, but they knew he would never be brought to the Light. He was thoroughly evil—a creature of pure, black hatred.

  "Whatever grace might have been given him has been subverted by the Black Flame. There is no hope of redeeming him and only one course available to us. We must determine how the creature may be killed, and then see it done. He will not sleep until he has brought us all down one by one," said Oryan.

  Gorgon bristled and growled through his pain as the Elves revealed their pity for him. And they were right; he would not sleep until he had brought them down. But no longer would he strike his victims one by one. No, indeed! They would all fall before him tonight. He listened to their plan, which was to adjourn for the day and consider what they had heard, gather for a feast in the early evening and reconvene the council afterward. They would talk far into the night, debating his fate.

  The pain grew too great for Gorgon to bear, and his strength was leaving him as he thrust the mirror into its pouch again. No matter. He knew now when the attack would come. He hoped the Elves would feast well and merrily, for it would be their last. He would take rest for a brief while, but then he would need to gather his forces for the final approach, so that they would be ready when the time came.

  The weather front that Gaelen had sensed earlier finally arrived just after sundown. The wind had picked up, and they could all smell the rain on the air. The Elves hoped that there would be no truly violent weather this night, as sometimes happened in early summer, for it might cause Gorgon to withdraw until conditions were more favorable. No one wanted this to happen, as they all knew that this deception would never succeed a second time. Gaelen had been wearing a brave face, but those close to her perceived that if not soon made free of Gorgon, she would go mad.

  She had attended the feast, sitting beside Rogond, but had partaken of little food or drink. She was weary from the nearly constant contact with Gorgon this day, sitting at the council shivering and trying to keep her teeth from chattering. A little wine might have relaxed her, but the wine-goblets were filled with clear water, for all would need their wits. The overall mood was somber, for all thoughts were upon the dark host that would soon engage them. Then, as they resumed the council, the "debate" began. They wanted to appear preoccupied and distracted, and goad Gorgon into attacking. It had now begun to rain, and the west wind was chilly. Out on the rim, Nelwyn and the archers hunkered down under their cloaks, awaiting the signal from the lookouts.

  Gorgon had moved his host into position; a group of over a hundred Ulcas now flanked the hillside from every direction. Kharsh’s group had descended into the deep ravine to the north. They were making their way back up when they were spotted by the sharp eyes of Kelin, a hunter-scout of the Greatwood who had been stationed as lookout. She gave a signal—a high-pitched, stuttering cry that sounded much like that of a young nighthawk. This was answered by similar cries from the south and west, as the enemy was seen there as well. One of the lookouts set to watch the eastern flank could not reply; he had been seen by Gorgon and now lay dead with an arrow in his throat.

  Kelin and the other surviving lookouts now made their way carefully back up to the rim of the hill to join the archers there. Slowly the enemy host crept toward them; some had passed the first set of fire-pits. The archers were now well aware of them, but would not reveal themselves until the Ulcas had come closer. They waited for Nelwyn, who had been elected to send forth the first arrow.

  Gorgon didn’t like it. His senses were keen and he was extremely wary. Though the rain had blunted his sense of smell, he thought he detected a faint aroma of pitch. The hillside was strewn and littered with stones and brush, but what was the meaning of that pitch-smell? Gorgon was not familiar with the technique of building fire-pits, but he was highly intelligent and knew that the smell of pitch in this place made little sense. Then the wind rose again from the west, the scent faded, and his path forward was clear again.

  He took hold of the mirror. Gaelen was still present at the council, where the debate over how best to deal with him was yet raging. The Elves were at fever pitch in anticipation of battle, and this gave passion to their discourse. Gorgon was convinced that the debate was genuine, and he relaxed his vigilance. Now was the time to engage them; they did not appear to be aware of anything other than their foolish argument. Reassured for the moment, Gorgon and his army continued to close in toward their intended prey.

  At the signal from the lookouts, those in the council tent were alerted, and Gaelen left for the rim. It took some time to reach it, as the climb was stony and treacherous, but she soon found herself crouching beside Nelwyn, who was trying to keep her arrows dry. All the archers had lit small fires among the rocks; they would ignite the arrows, but would be hidden from view. Wood-elves are masters at concealing a fire after nightfall.

  Gaelen stared resolutely at the dark forest surrounding the hill. Nelwyn noticed that she was literally twitching in expectation of battle. She was armed with her long knives, her short sword and longbow, the smaller bow that she used in hunting, and a very large supply of arrows. She alone would not be required to light one of the fire-pits, as she did not know their locations, but she would be among the first to shed the blood of her enemies. The distant thunder that she had noted earlier was drawing nearer, and the flickering light of the approaching storm would aid the Elves in sighting their enemy. Gaelen was keeping watch for Gorgon, as she wanted to ensure that he had moved close enough that he would not turn back when the battle was joined. She closed her eyes, trying to get a sense of him, hoping, for once, that he would look into the mirror.

  In the flickering light of the breaking storm, Gorgon caught sight of one of the archers lying in wait along the rim of the hill. So! Perhaps they had anticipated him after all. Or perhaps this was the only protection they had provided for the council, and he still had little to fear. He wavered in his resolve for a moment as he drew forth the mirror again. Gaelen was still staring out at the stormy sky, and it occurred to him that she had quite possibly been making it a point not to look at the archers arranged all around the hilltop on both sides of her. Was she trying to mislead him, to avoid giving something away? Perhaps it would be better to regroup and attack at a later time, when he was more certain. The council would likely go on for several days. Perhaps a temporary retreat would be better… he smelled a trap!

  Abruptly, Gaelen galvanized beside Nelwyn, who looked at her with alarm. Nelwyn knew better than to speak to her cousin, for from the look on her face Gorgon was listening at this moment. Gaelen suddenly rose to her feet, her face betraying an anxiety that was nothing short of panic. He was…he was thinking about turning back! She had to stop him. She drew her bow as Nelwyn gave a cry of dismay that she could not prevent.

  Gaelen spoke through clenched teeth. "Turn back now, Dark Horror! I know of your power, and I know you can hear me! We have many warriors in our host, and outnumber you greatly! Turn back, or you will be slain. I shall be the first to place an arrow in your hateful heart! Your Dark Master will be disappointed this night!"

  Nelwyn stared at her cousin in horror, wondering whether she truly had gone mad. The last thing she thought Gaelen would have wanted was to see Gorgon turn tail and retreat—the entire purpose of this deception had been to lure him into the conflict! Ri-Aruin’s army was awaiting the signal, and this chance would never come again. Had Gaelen lost her senses? Had she gone over to the Darkness at last?

  Nelwyn
’s question was answered as Gaelen loosed her bow, sending an arrow straight to the heart of the Ulca that stood beside Gorgon on the eastern face. Nelwyn grabbed Gaelen’s arm. "What have you done?" she cried.

  Gaelen softened for a moment, and she uttered a phrase in the dwarf-tongue that both she and Nelwyn had been taught by Fima, and which Gorgon would not understand. "Norúk-ahi." Trust me.

  Gaelen’s arrow did not penetrate the excellent armor that had come from the forges of the Shadowmancer, as she had used her small hunting bow, and it lacked the necessary power. Gaelen had known that this would be so, which was why she had not used her longbow. She would give courage to her enemy.

  Though he was somewhat dismayed to learn that Gaelen was aware of the power of the mirror, Gorgon’s face twisted into a smile. She was trying to frighten him into retreating; she knew her people were outnumbered as well as he, and their pitiful weapons were no match for his well-armored host. Though her fortitude was admirable, her actions would serve only to strengthen his resolve. He instructed the Ulcas that they no longer need worry about killing her; she had served her purpose and would be of no further use to him. Nelwyn gave another cry as he roared in challenge, then signaled his forces to charge, dropping low to the ground with their shields before them. "Send forth your arrows! Light the fires! They are attacking!"

  Gaelen yelled in a voice Nelwyn did not recognize.

  Nelwyn set her arrow aflame, and then sent it into the pit below. The rain had not aided them there; the wet brush would catch slowly, though the pitch was already smoldering into life. The other archers followed suit, and in a few seconds the pits were ignited, though they burned reluctantly, sending up more smoke than flame. The Elves would get little aid from the firelight, and more importantly, the lighting of the pits was to be the signal to Ri-Aruin’s army to surround the hill; they would never see it unless the fires burned brightly. Now the challenge was to bring down as many foes as possible before falling back behind the rim. The archers sent volley after volley, taking many of the enemy, but the Ulcas made use of the terrain, evading the Elves’ arrows. They were armed with powerful crossbows, and several of the Elven archers fell back, dead or badly wounded.