How The Widdershae
Came to Be
“Many of you have spoken about the dark things and of the danger we face,” Mithorden said when he reached the head of the table. “Now it’s my turn. I will start with a tale of how the Widdershae came to be. Some of you may already know this tale. But I will tell it to you in its entirety. Some of the details you may not recall. For I had the opportunity to speak with those unfortunate enough to have witnessed these events first-hand and the rumor that some call history has left most of the more important details out.
“Many years ago, after the time of Valkire, but before our current day, there lived a race of elves called the Delvendrim. They inhabited the northern peaks of what are now called the Drakken Spurr Mountains. A peaceful if somber people, the Delvendrim knew much about the secrets kept in deep and hidden places at the roots of the mountains or in the depths of night beneath the stars. For beneath the mountains they delved out great warrens and these were connected to Oesha and its moons by Lilani. Also, upon the mountain peaks they erected rings of stones to catalogue the movements of moons and stars. The Delvendrim were a people who treasured the knowledge of hidden lore and of ages long past.
“Their queen—Keldara—was no exception. So when she received a Teluri—a mirror that opens a gateway to other places—as a gift from an anonymous benefactor, she was delighted. For the Teluri was useful both as a window and a gateway. Her excitement was so great that she didn’t question the identity of her benefactor and began using the Teluri immediately.
“But there was something wrong with the Teluri. Something that Keldara didn’t notice at first. For, when left alone, it would darken and in its window glittering clusters of eyes would stare out.
“Keldara’s daughter, Ninowe, was the only one to notice the eyes. But Keldara dismissed it as a child’s fancy. Nonetheless, Ninowe would sneak into her mother’s chambers, covering the mirror when no one was looking.
“Then, one night, something dark crossed into our world. The cloth Ninowe had used to cover the mirror had fallen away. It crept through the mirror and onto Keldara’s bed. The form it took was small for the world could not yet bear all of it. It only paused long enough to sting Keldara’s leg before it scurried back to the darkness behind the mirror.
“The sting was enough to awaken Keldara. In an instant, she sat upright, opening her eyes just in time to see the thing scurry back into the mirror. She only glimpsed it. But she said it looked like a spider, barely larger than a clenched fist. To her eyes it seemed black as night itself.
“It was then that Keldara began to wonder about her mirror and to fear that she should have listened to Ninowe. Who had it come from? And what was the dark spider that had bitten her?
“She cried out and other elves soon came to her aid. She had them take the mirror to a secure place far beneath the fortress were it was locked into an iron box. Healers also came to tend to her. The wound was barely visible. And it only hurt Keldara a little—itching more than it stung. But the healers, urged on by Ninowe, did what they could to draw the venom out.
“Yet that venom was beyond the art of even elves to heal and, over the days, it began to fester. First a yellow ring formed around the bite. The ring slowly grew until it covered her thigh. Then, within the ring, near the bite, all the flesh became black and mottled.
“After a week, Keldara’s eyes became glazed. The whites turned a yellow-green and the pupils began to distort into a jagged shape.
“During this time, Keldara began to fall into fits of raving. The fits grew worse and worse until the healers who attended her feared they would have to bind the queen to her bed. Then, on the eighth night after Keldara received the bite, she sprang from her bed and fled from the city. Ninowe never saw the mother she knew again.”
Mithorden paused and Luthiel noticed that she was sitting on the edge of her seat and that her hands were tightly gripping the table’s edge.
“What a terrible story!” she said. “How do you know this?”
“I learned this account from Ninowe,” Mithorden replied.
“Fearing for her mother’s life,” Mithorden continued, “Ninowe and the healers journeyed out into the mountains to look for her. By this act, she, and those who went with her were the only elves to survive what happened.
“They followed Keldara into the mountains, tracing her tracks along the streams and springs that fed into the river flowing beneath the city—providing it with both water and a roadway to the world beyond the mountains.
“They tracked the queen for nearly a week. And they were troubled. For the marks in the earth became strange. Her footprints seemed to narrow. And then it appeared as though she went on all fours. But there were other marks along her trail that disturbed them more. Indentations, like those made from a pointed stick, pierced the ground.
“Had the tracks not changed over the course of many days, they would have lost the queen’s trail entirely. The change was slow enough that they were certain it was the queen they tracked. But they greatly feared what was happening to her and many times the healers urged Ninowe to go back. But Ninowe wouldn’t hear them. She was determined to find out what terrible thing was happening to her mother and, if possible, to save her.
“In the end, the healers decided to go with Ninowe. Again, their decision to persevere was what saved them.
“For one night, they happened on the poor creature that was once the queen of the Delvendrim. And they were terrified, for in peeking through the trees they beheld a creature that would live on in their nightmares from that day forward. It resembled the elf-queen they knew very little. It had the body of an insect and great black legs—each tipped with a point like a spear—protruded from that body. Its original arms and legs had changed almost beyond recognition. But they could still tell it was the queen for her face, though horribly misshapen and ringed with clusters of black eyes, was still recognizable. Bits of cloth still hung here and there from its misshapen body and occasionally it would click to itself.
“When they saw it, it was crouched over a spring lowering its mouth to the water as if to drink. But, instead, it was vomiting into the water. The black detritus spilled through the water like ink, snaking down into the stream the spring fed. They followed the creature for three days. And each day was the same. The creature would stoop over whatever spring or river it could find and then vomit into the water. On the third day, the healers had seen enough. Fearing that whatever the creature had vomited into the water might also poison the Delvendrim, they hurried back to their city.
“It took them three days to make their way back through the mountain passes. But water travels much faster than a group of elves afoot, especially when journeying down the steep and jagged slopes of the Drakken Spur Mountains. So when they returned to the city, they found that all of their brethren had fallen ill. Their eyes had turned green and their pupils were slowly becoming misshapen. Some were developing black splotches upon their skin.
“All too familiar with what had happened to the queen, they fled from the place in terror. I came upon them on my way into the mountains one year. They’d taken up residence many miles away from the Gates of the East. But even then, they were considering moving further west for rumor of dark things was already reaching the foothills and this was only a year after the terrible event occurred.
“I felt particulary sorry for Ninowe. For seeing her mother in such a state had unhinged her mind and, periodically, she fell into fits of madness. I did what I could to help them and I urged them to move on. For the Drakken Spurr mountains were very close and I feared that these spiders might set upon them. But I knew very little about Widdershae then and I was, perhaps, careless. For I wasn’t as firm as I might have been.
“A few years later, I returned to see if they were still living in the shadow of the Drakken Spurr. The lands about had grown wild and terrible for the Widdershae, as the spider-elves became known, were ranging out into the foothills now. Their terribl
e shadow webs were cast in cunning places and most beasts had long since fled to the safety of Minonowe.
“Killed or fled, the last survivors of the Delvendrim were nowhere to be found. I fear they may have been devoured, for I have not seen them since. But I hope they were wise enough to leave before the spiders came upon them. Perhaps they still felt the call of the mountains and their deep mystery. Perhaps it was too strong for them to leave sight of those great peaks standing beneath the stars and moons.
“But one thing is certain. The Widdershae did not devour the Delvendrim. The Delvendrim became Widdershae. They were poisoned by a black spider that slipped into our world through a Teluri.”
“But what was it?” Luthiel asked. The hands with which she was gripping the table had broken out into a sweat. “What was this tiny spider that slipped through the mirror?”
“I don’t know for certain. I can only guess. There is but one creature that lives among the stars that could do such a thing. And they may yet inhabit the black moon Gorothoth. I do not think that it is a coincidence that the Delvendrim became spiders.”
“Ingolith,” Ecthellien said.
“Yes. I fear that by some black art the spiders of night have cursed the mountain elves to become Widdershae in their likeness.”
“But the rivers Rendalas and Gwithemlo,” Luthiel said. “They are also fed by springs in the mountains. Wouldn’t the elves of Minonowe and Ashiroth also become poisoned?”
“We only know that they did not. Perhaps the vomit of the creature Keldara became was too diluted when it joined with the great rivers. And perhaps she could only infect other elves while she was still partly elfin herself. What we do know is that no more elves have fallen to this terrible illness.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Othalas growled.
“What did you say?” Mithorden’s eyebrows lowered in concern.
“Some elves in Ashiroth turned into Widdershae. There it is a rare illness. But it happens now and then.”
A silence fell upon the room.
“This is terrible news,” Mithorden said. “But there is little we can do about it now other than remain vigilant.”
“Why didn’t you tell Tuorlin the truth about the Delvendrim?” Luthiel asked.
“I did,” Mithorden replied.
“Then why don’t we know the truth?” she said.
“Lord Tuorlin decided that it was too terrible. He thinks that some things are best kept secret. I don’t agree, but I must respect his rule.”
Silence, once again, fell over the gathering. The blue lights of Ottomnos and even the yellow lights of the flir bug bulbs were not enough to comfort Luthiel. Somewhere, perhaps close by, were creatures that once walked the face of Oesha as elves but were now Widdershae. For some reason, the fact that they were once elves made them seem more horrible to her. She remembered their pointed ears, the almond shape of their eyes, and shuddered.
Escape Plans
“Why are we talking of these things now?” Luthiel asked. “Vaelros, the elves of the mountains, the demon Thrar Taurmori, the betrayer Zalos. Why?”
“Because we must know what we face!” Mithorden said sternly. “We cannot afford to delude ourselves. Nor can we let the elves fall prey to lies. There is a common thread that runs through all these tales and its leads back to the Black Moon. For hundreds of years, its influence has grown in secret. It cannot continue. We must resolve ourselves to do what we can to stop it and its agents—Thrar Taurmori, the Widdershae, and even Zalos. For now, the war against the Vyrl must be stopped. I don’t know why Zalos has pushed this war upon the elves. But I don’t trust that he intends only to remove the Vyrl. The Widdershae are here and the mists of the Vale are here. I fear that this is some ploy to weaken or break the elves ere winter falls.”
“All this talking of dark and terrible things grows tiresome,” Norengar muttered. “You remind me of children trembling in fear of the shadows that come with sunset! I thought this was a council of war!”
“I agree! Enough trembling and whimpering. If it lives it can also be killed,” Othalas growled.
“It is a council of war,” Mithorden said. “But only because war has come to us—a war we must avoid.”
“But the spiders? What about the spiders?” Luthiel asked.
“Once we have peace with the elves, then we’ll deal with the spiders,” Mithorden said.
“But they’re all around us,” she said. “How can we escape?”
Mithorden looked back at her in surprise.
“How did you know?” he asked.
“A crow told me,” she said.
“Well, I see that you’ve settled in,” he said glancing at the Vyrl. “Don’t get used to it, though. We’re leaving.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she said.
“I’ll let the Vyrl answer for you,” he replied.
For a moment, the Vyrl’s thoughts were confused.
“We know of no way to reach the rim without first going through the Widdershae,” Ahmberen said.
“No other way?” Mithorden replied. “What of the Lilani that lies in the heart of this castle?”
“The Lilani? But it leads to Cauthraus,” Elshael replied.
Mithorden shuffled through some of the maps that were piled upon the table.
“Never rely on the wisdom of Vyrl, for it will fail you,” he muttered as he unrolled the map he had picked out. It was an odd drawing that Luthiel didn’t recognize.
“This is the moon Cauthraus,” he said. “Here is where the Lilani beneath this castle opens.” He placed a finger upon the map. “And this is another Lilani that leads back to Oesha.” He pointed to a place that seemed nearby on the map. “It opens here.” He pointed back to the map of the lands surrounding the Vale. The place his finger marked was just behind the bits of colored glass. “It should let you in directly behind their armies.”
Luthiel was looking at the map of Cauthraus. When she noticed that the edges curled in, she had a sinking feeling. Leowin had described maps like this to her once, long ago.
“Is this a map of all of Cauthraus?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mithorden replied.
“Then how far is it between the two Lilani7
“About three hundred miles,” he said.
Luthiel stared at the map in disbelief.
“Three hundred miles? How are we going to ever make it in time? That’ll take weeks. And what if there are trolls? Don’t trolls live on Cauthraus?”
“You have a talent for asking two questions at once don’t you?” Mithorden chuckled. “In answer to your first question, Othalas can make the journey in little more than a day. And in answer to your second question—yes, trolls do live on Cauthraus. You’ll have to avoid them. They’re vicious.”
A sudden and overpowering sense of dread came over her. Her skin raised up in gooseflesh. It wasn’t Mithorden’s talk of trolls that had frightened her. Rather, it was a sense of something terrible.
Then, in the map, she had a vision of a wall of fire rising up, up—climbing high as a mountain. Behind it hung the black moon in the face of a pregnant sun. The flames raced toward her and then the vision faded.
She stood, unable to tear her eyes from the map, trying to breathe evenly. It was only a flash but it seemed so real.
“Could we not take the other road?” she said.
“The spiders may spot us. They have set a watch. And the path will be far more difficult now that they’ve had time to thicken their webs.”
“You want me to go there alone?” she said tilting her head toward the map of Cauthraus.
“If you were listening, you’d know that Othalas would go with you.”
“I know Othalas would go with me!” She was becoming exasperated with the sorcerer’s word games. “But would anyone else come with me as well?”
“The werewolf is fastest,” Mithorden said. “It would be safer to make the journey alone.”
“Alone.” She said it
more as a statement than a question. She wondered why it seemed that she must do everything alone. The vision of fire flashed in her mind again. She wiped her brow. Her hand came away sweaty.
“I don’t wish to go at all. Alone is far worse,” she said.
“Mithorden, shouldn’t Luthiel bring someone with her?” Vaelros said. “Couldn’t Othalas carry more than one?”
“I certainly could,” Othalas growled. “But I’m not a pack animal.”
Mithorden considered Vaelros as he stroked his beard.
“Perhaps it is a good idea to send someone along with Luthiel. But I don’t think it should be you, Vaelros. Zalos and your six former comrades must be considered. If they saw you, they might not let you leave unpunished. One of the Vyrl, though, might help things. That is, if one of you were willing to take the risk.”
The Vyrl exchanged speculative glances.
“But what of the elves? They might imprison the one that comes,” Elshael said.
“They might,” Mithorden replied. “But if you came in a show of good faith it would strengthen Luthiel’s plea.”
Vaelros laid his hand on his sword hilt.
“I made a promise. I’m with Luthiel,” he said.
Mithorden stared at Vaelros under lowered brows.
“It would be a terrible waste if you were taken again so soon,” he said. “You’ll have other, better, opportunities to help.”
Vaelros brooded.
“I’ll do as Luthiel says. Not you.”
“If she values you, she’ll ask that you stay here,” Mithorden replied with a glance at Luthiel.
But Luthiel was lost in her own thoughts. She still wasn’t convinced that the journey to Cauthraus was a good idea. The fire, this time a tall red flame with a black crown of smoke, rose in her mind again.
“Mithorden, didn’t you pass through the Widdershae on your way here? Surely, you know of some magic that can hide us from them?” she said.
“I did pass through them on my way into the Vale,” he said. “But I was alone. It was a dark and dangerous path—strewn with webs of shadow. Likely it has grown worse. Their web-spinning is ceaseless. I would rather not risk it with a larger group.”
Luthiel's Song: Dreams of the Ringed Vale Page 29