Renown of the Raithlin: Book One of the Raithlindrath Series

by Robert Ryan

  The gently sloping downlands lay behind. They had not sighted Mecklar and his followers until this morning when they saw distant riders. After they left the road and struck southeast toward Enorìen, the riders followed suite.

  Lanrik was tempted to wait for them. He had scores to settle and promises to keep, but he controlled the sudden urge. Aranloth and Erlissa needed him.

  They entered the forest and he sensed something different about it. Unlike the small woods that he was used to, it was vast and old. He saw no tracks of people or livestock, no sign of timber-cutters or hunters. They were in a land that was remote and untouched by man.

  Erlissa looked about her with wonder. She was sensing something that he did not feel himself. She was more sensitive than he was, perhaps because she was a woman, or maybe because of her instincts as a Seeker. She always seemed to know how he felt too, and when he needed help. He wished he could do the same for her.

  Aranloth found paths where at first there did not seem to be any and brought them to forest glades and open tracts where they could ride with speed. The afternoon grew old, and in a clearing with short green grass they came across a small group of deer. Though they had ridden with noise, and their scent would have drifted ahead on the wind, the animals merely watched them, heads held high and ears pricked. They had never been hunted or learned to fear man.

  Lanrik noticed Erlissa looking at him with shining eyes and a bright grin. She appeared very young, too young for someone who had endured what she had, but her joy of life and the wellspring of her kindness seemed unlimited. She was remarkable and heartbreakingly beautiful.

  He remembered her words in the ruined tower of Haladhon. You and I will always be friends. No matter what.

  The friendship of a woman like her was irreplaceable. Would there ever be more though? He had feelings for her and they were growing. He recognized that trying to save Lòrenta, and his uncle, were not his only reasons for coming on this journey.

  How did she feel? She had called him a friend, but could she see him as something more? A lot stood between them, not least an opposed attitude on how to live life, but he wondered if any of that mattered.

  Aranloth slowed and dismounted near a massive oak that dominated the clearing and the deer picked their way into the cover of nearby trees.

  “Why are we stopping?” asked Erlissa.

  Aranloth handed her the reins to the roan. “The Guardian will have sensed our presence when we crossed into Enorìen, and it’s unwise to travel too far into the hills without performing a special ritual. It’s the lòhrens way of seeking permission.”

  Lanrik glanced behind him. “How long will it take? Mecklar and his followers can’t be far away.”

  The lòhren gestured dismissively. “Mecklar is no longer our greatest threat. Men aren’t kept out of Enorìen by its reputation alone. The Guardian is all-powerful in this land and will come to us soon.”

  He walked to the oak and touched its gnarled trunk before gripping his staff with both hands. He stood very still, and the diadem on his brow gleamed within the deep shadows of the leaf canopy. He lifted the staff slowly, one end pointed to the sky and the other earthward.

  He struck the tip with sudden force into the leaf mold and lòhren-fire ran along the staff’s length. Once more he raised it, then struck again with greater power. Fire flared to life from both ends; it speared deep into the earth and spumed upward. Slowly he lifted it again, then slammed it against the ground.

  The earth rumbled and lòhren-fire traced millions of oak roots. The dark soil glowed and power surged up through the tree. It flowed through trunk, branch and twig. Each leaf shivered and then flashed with brilliant light. It flickered out as quick as it came and left the whole tree astir as though caught in a breeze, but not a single leaf fell.

  Aranloth came back to them. “It is done,” he said formally.

  “What now?” asked Lanrik.

  The lòhren took back the roan’s reins from Erlissa. “The Guardian will come and give us the permission we need, though some sort of bargain will be involved. We cannot wait here though. Darkness is coming and we must be in the oak grove by midnight.”

  He mounted and led the way again, picking a path uncannily through the tangled growth.

  Lanrik noticed that the lòhren was right. Darkness was coming. Already it was dim in the forest and travel would soon be harder. What worried him most though was Aranloth’s statement that a bargain with the Guardian must be struck.

  They did not stop to eat or rest. They maintained a steady pace even when darkness fell and the forest woke to life all about them. There were weird grunts and barks, screeches and hoots, and there were thumps and unidentifiable noises that came from near and far. It was not a place that Lanrik would have liked to travel by himself, but Aranloth seemed to know where he was going and Erlissa enjoyed it. As long as he was with her, he did not really mind where he was.

  He had begun to think that they would have to dismount and lead the horses by hand when the forest opened. They were deep and high in Enorìen now; the hills had become steeper, and rocky outcrops regularly broke the ground. The stars glittered through the canopy, and the half moon would soon rise above the skyline. When it did, their time would swiftly run out.

  Aranloth stopped and dismounted. “The Guardian has come,” he said.

  Lanrik and Erlissa secured their horses before standing beside him. A massive hill bulked in the dim light to their left. To their right was another, not as large, but covered with boulders and tangled scrub. Between the two ran a narrow cleft and a path hemmed by trees. It led downward, but he could not see far in the darkness.

  He watched and waited for a long time before a figure came into sight. It strode down the right hand hill with the easy gait of someone who walked all day. There was confidence and purpose in their bearing as well as surety of power.

  The Guardian swiftly approached and stood before them.

  Lanrik had kept an open mind about what to expect, but he was still surprised. That the Guardian was female was likely enough, but that she was not human took him aback. It hit him suddenly that he had left his homeland, the Raithlin, and all that was familiar behind. He was groping about in a world of lòhrens, dark sorcery, enchanted swords and creatures of whom he knew nothing.

  The Guardian had a disquieting presence. There was authority in her posture, the tilt of her head, and the broodiness of her dark glance beneath coarse eyebrows.

  Her eyes were deep pits, but the starlight revealed them as nut brown. So too was her skin, though it was paler and tinged leaf-green. Her long hair spilled over broad shoulders in wild cascades like a dark waterfall, and her limbs and body were slick with taut muscle. When she bent her glance upon him he felt her power. In this land she ruled; all things bowed to her will or were broken. And yet there was a hint of shyness about her too, something of the wild animal.

  She turned her eyes to Aranloth. “Long has it been since last you came, even by the reckoning of my kind. Yet ever you want something, and it will be no different now. Speak!”

  Aranloth showed no offence at her abruptness. “I do as I must, Carnona.”

  She flashed him an unexpected grin. Her teeth were very white and her deep eyes glittered.

  “Few use my old name. It is good to hear it.”

  Her smile came and went swiftly, and Lanrik realized she could change mood in a heartbeat.

  “What do you want?” she said.

  “Lòrenta is in danger and—”

  “I care nothing for Lòrenta or the affairs of lòhrens,” she interrupted. “Tell me your request and I will consider it. That is all.”

  Aranloth was unperturbed. “Very well. I need three berries; three fruit of the mistletoe that grows in the oak groves and waxes ripe under the summer half moon.”

  Carnona eyed him for a long time without speaking.

  “There are such groves of oak and such berries as you seek. Yet they are potent. Do you understand their pow
er?

  “Yes.”

  She studied him again. She was like a hawk that cocked its head and searched for food.

  “Why should I let you take ùhrengai from my land?”

  “Because I need it.”

  Carnona laughed and the sound was like the bark of a wild animal. “As good an answer as any. And what of Ebona? I sense her influence in Enorìen. Does she also covet the berries?”

  “No. She wishes to obstruct me.”

  Carnona folded her arms. Fat thumbs pressed and twitched against the bulge of her muscles while she contemplated the situation silently.

  Lanrik noticed that Erlissa fidgeted next to him and he too was alive with strain. He had not realized that so much depended on the will of the Guardian or that success or failure was under her sway.

  Aranloth, who had most to lose, was surprisingly calm. He leaned on his staff in the casual posture he often adopted, but Lanrik was not fooled. Just as the lòhren made no outward show of power, he was adept at veiling his emotions during a crisis. Erlissa had said that he was a man who felt deep compassion for others, and Lanrik believed it. Irrespective of his appearance he would be thinking of the people in Lòrenta and the consequences should he fail them

  Carnona reached a decision.

  “I will allow you to harvest the berries.”

  Aranloth nodded gravely and waited. Lanrik’s relief at the Guardian’s answer was washed away when she went on.

  “But a price must be paid.”

  “That is expected,” the lòhren said. “What do you wish of me?”

  “It is not only you who must pay.” She pointed toward Lanrik and Erlissa. “So too must they.”

  Aranloth straightened. “These are merely my companions, Carnona. They have nothing to do with our bargain.”

  The Guardian went rigid; her muscles trembled like a horse whose flesh shivered at a strange touch.

  “They have everything to do with it.”

  “I will do what you require of me,” Aranloth said, “but they have only come because of me.”

  “Do you not seek three berries? And will your companions not use the land’s ùhrengai, just as you will?”

  Aranloth was still for a moment. “It is as you say, but—”

  Erlissa interrupted him. “What Carnona says is fair, Aranloth. If there must be a price, I am willing to pay it, if I can.”

  Carnona flashed her a sudden grin from bright teeth, but by the time her glance flickered to Lanrik it was gone. She looked at him intently, and he felt the strength and authority of her gaze. She was queen of this land, and no other power, even lòhrengai, held sway.

  Lanrik was overcome with doubt, but Erlissa had shown him the way. “I too will do as I must.”

  Carnona studied him for a few moments then turned her back on them all and walked away.

  “Follow!” she commanded. “I will consider the prices as I lead you to the nearest grove.”

  “What of Ebona’s servants?” Aranloth asked.

  “My sister and I strive toward different goals. She had her own realm. Her presence in mine is neither needed nor wanted, and those who bear her mark will be cast out.”

  Carnona strode ahead and they led the horses after her. The Guardian was short, but she took them swiftly to the steep trail that descended the cleft between hills. They were forced along a path that snaked between rocky outcrops, but she gracefully gathered herself and leapt from stone to stone as delicately as a deer that picked its way between tree trunks.

  The trees grew close together and blotted out the starlight. It was still and quiet. Lanrik wondered if they were the first people to tread this path. Lòhrens might have been to Enorìen before, but certainly not often, and he doubted they had explored even a fraction of it. A thrill of excitement ran through him, and he walked with eagerness. His eyes were alive to each new plant or tree that loomed in the dim light. At the same time, a deep-seated anxiety gnawed at him. What price would Carnona demand?

  The night wore on. Shadows and trees closed about them as they passed deep into the cleft. Lanrik wondered if even during the day sunlight filtered into this remote valley.

  It was oddly silent. Nothing moved or drew breath here except them. There were only trees; oaks so old that they might have seen the first dawn of Alithoras.

  There was something about the vale that made Lanrik nervous, a feeling that humans were not meant to defile it, and only the presence of Carnona, the embodiment of the land itself, protected them.

  Who was she? What was she? And what was the history between her and Ebona? He understood little of what was happening but began to be aware that there were powers in the world to which men were oblivious. Nevertheless, they were at work and shaped the land and its life in ways he could not grasp.

  The steep descent into the cleft slowed and stopped. It was not so much a valley as an opening through a long ridge of high hills. Oaks rose all about them, mountainous trees bigger than he had ever seen. Their trunks were so large that a dozen men joined hand to hand would scarcely encircle them. Huge boughs weighted with the growth of countless years drooped to the ground. Carnona came to a halt. Her feet sank deep into the earthy remnant of ancient leaves, and she lifted her arms, stiff like tree branches.

  “We are come to a sacred place. Few men have walked Enorìen, and none has seen this grove. Here, ùhrengai is strong. It courses deep below the earth, and the tree roots tap it. It rises in their sap. It flows through their trunks into branch and twig. It glistens like dew on the leaves when the full moon waxes.”

  Her solemn voice took on a note of reverence as she pointed toward a branch.

  “There is the mistletoe you seek. It is not of earth or air. It is green of leaf but not rooted in the ground. See how the berries shine in the starlight?”

  Lanrik followed her gesture. The mistletoe, like a bird’s nest in the oak’s branches, had small berries that glowed palely in the shadows.

  Carnona dropped her hand and spun to the lòhren. “I have considered the price. It shall be paid or you will not have the berries.”

  “What is it?”

  “Each shall give according to their measure. You have walked the lands of Alithoras as I once did before the Halathrin came. I wondered far and wide before Man or Elug, Dweorh or Lethrin. I travelled the dry south and endured the cold north. I beheld the rain-drenched coasts to our east and the far westward cliffs where the sun sets in red glory. I walked all the land, and everywhere the ùhrengai was strong. Now it is weak. I would have things as they were in my youth. I would have trees again in the southern mountains that are now called Graèglin Dennath.”

  Aranloth looked at her. “No one, not even a creature of ùhrengai, can recapture the past that is gone,” he said gently. “It is the fate of all who live that they yearn for what they have lost.”

  Carnona barked her hard laugh. “Do you think me a fool? I know that, better even than the lòhrens, even the eldest of them. I do not seek to have what cannot be, yet trees can grow once more in those mountains, even if only in places where there lingers a remnant of the power that was. Such a place you must seek and plant the seeds I will give you. Even you might be surprised at their hardiness. They will not flourish, not while the shadow of the enemy gropes over the mountains and stretches to the north. Yet they will survive in readiness for a time when the shadow is no more and they can thrive.”

  Aranloth ran a hand through his hair. “Yet while the shadow holds sway in those mountains, it is perilous for such as me to walk them.”

  “And yet you have done so in the past.”

  Aranloth bowed his head gravely. “It is as you say. And I will pay your price.”

  Lanrik felt uneasy as the dark eyes of the Guardian turned on him. She studied him for some time, her gaze stripping bare his thoughts much as Aranloth had done at their first meeting. Carnona was different though. Aranloth had seen a vast store of humanity, the good and the bad, and he knew what people felt and why they did thin
gs. Carnona had no interest in people; she was only interested in how they could serve her purposes. He did not think she was bad, it was just her nature, but he sensed that not only would it be futile to try to deceive her, it would be deadly.

  “You are marked by Alithoras,” she said. “The sun and moon, heat and cold, day and night, the dry and the wet of the wild lands are stamped upon you.”

  Lanrik gave a nod of affirmation but did not speak. He noticed that her gaze lingered on the trotting fox motif of his cloak.

  “You are a Raithlin.” She stated it as fact rather than a question, but Lanrik answered.

  “Yes.”

  “My price is this. You must teach your kind, the Raithlin yet to come, the love of the land that is in you.”

  Lanrik’s spirits dropped. “I would if I could. But I cannot. Their long history of more than a thousand years has ended. They’ve been disbanded.”

  Carnona laughed. “A thousand years? What is that to me? If you had lived as long as I, you would see the future thrust forward like a shadow of the past. But the Raithlin will return in your time. If you can not believe that, it will be enough that you make the promise to pay my price should I be proved correct.”

  Lanrik looked to the lòhren, but Aranloth’s eyes showed nothing of what he thought.

  He turned to Carnona. “I will do it.”

  As suddenly as she had focused her attention on him she withdrew it and scrutinized Erlissa. A long time she looked at her, as if in doubt. Erlissa waited patiently, enduring the force of her attention dispassionately and seeming not to care what price would be asked. She would pay it if she could, otherwise she would not. Lanrik was getting to know her, though not as well as she knew him.

  Carnona folded her arms once more and reached a decision. “A price must be paid, though you are not ready to fulfil it. I will accept this. You must return and speak with me again. At that time, I will tell you what I want.”

  “What if it’s something that I won’t do?”