by C S Marks
Fima shook his head. “Alas, I know much of it. It is one of the most sorrowful tales in all the history of Alterra—a tale of pride, vanity, mistrust, and, unfortunately, love. Love may be the strongest force under heaven, but if it is denied, there follows only grief and darkness. I have read the records set down by Lady Ordath, taken from the reports of those on both sides of the conflict. She has pieced together the most even-handed and accurate of accounts.”
“Please, will you favor us?” asked the young scholars, for they were eager to learn and record this accounting of a dark time in their world.
“I will, though it pains me to do so. Any who wish to hear may attend. It is a tragic story, and I will not wish to repeat it. Come to the courtyard at sunset and I will enlighten you.”
The scholars rejoiced, for they had not been offered such a treasure ever before in their lives. The War of Betrayal had remained mysterious, and there were details known only to Fima and the scholars of Mountain-home. At sunset, there would be no free space in the courtyard.
“Tell me why I should believe any of this, and I just might refrain from burying you and your precious golden thing deep below the rock, never to be found! I sense that your spirit is locked within. You had better have a most convincing excuse for insulting me in such a way!”
Gorgon’s pale eyes were afire, his mouth twisted into a furious snarl as he roared at the face of the old man in the amulet. And for the first time, Lord Kotos—powerful, dark spirit, born of the Light and later consumed by evil—was truly afraid of him. Kotos had not encountered such a strong-willed spirit in a very long time…not since the fall of Tal-elathas. Since he had lost his physical form, he had stayed away from contact with the Elves, for he feared they would know him. And Gorgon was right. Without a suitable host, Kotos would be helpless, unable to do Wrothgar’s bidding, and that frightened him even more. He had underestimated Gorgon, as had nearly everyone else.
Kotos had not expected such a violent reaction, but he rejoiced despite his fear. Gorgon’s hatred would be the yoke with which to harness him. “Please, Elfhunter, you must calm yourself. I am your friend…never doubt that! We have been charged with a task that will bring you nothing but pleasure, if you will only master yourself and hear of it. Will you now listen?”
“Speak quickly, then, and convince me,” Gorgon replied. “That should present little difficulty for one so skilled.” His contempt was palpable, and Kotos smiled. Gorgon’s immeasurable pride would serve well in the deception.
“You have lived for many long years in this world, but I do not know the extent of your experience in it, and so I will ask this question. Are you aware of creatures that are deadly, but so alluring that their prey cannot resist them?”
Gorgon, who paid little attention to such things, growled and shook his head. Kotos appeared to draw a deep breath before continuing. “They seem beautiful, even feigning the appearance and mating-scent of the victim, who naturally cannot resist them. When the prey has drawn near enough, they strike. There are several forms in Alterra that employ this gift, including myself. My host can appear as I will have him appear, and none can see through the deception unless I will it, often to their undoing. If you are disguised as the tall, golden Elf in the vision, who will suspect that you are Gorgon Elfhunter? You will be able to plan their doom, even as they take you among them. I assure you…they will.”
“I know of one who will suspect,” rumbled Gorgon. “And what did you mean by ‘my host?’ Are you suggesting that I should allow you to overtake me? I will not be controlled! Know this before you speak further, and put all such thoughts from your mind.”
“I speak not of controlling, but of an alliance,” Kotos replied. “Would it not be worth suffering the Elves’ company to bring about their end? Will you not walk among them to defeat them? It is the only way you will ever prevail. And the one of whom you speak, Gaelen Taldin…she will not know you. That is a promise I can give right now.”
“She has beheld my very soul,” said Gorgon. “You will not deceive her. She will know me no matter my semblance.”
“Not if your spirit is blended with mine. She will be confounded. I have beguiled some of the strongest spirits in Alterra…even the Lord of Tal-elathas was turned to my purpose. Surely I can confuse a Wood-elf.”
To the puzzlement of Kotos, Gorgon laughed. “A Wood-elf! Oh, yes, surely she is that. And you should have no trouble deceiving her, oh, no!” His eyes narrowed and his face grew dark. “She is the soul I fear the most, for there is an unbreakable bond between us, and she will know me! You do not understand. I cannot stand before her…I will be found out!”
“You must trust me,” said Kotos. “What other choice have you? To hide in darkness until you run out of strength and water? You cannot return to your old life, Elfhunter. Lord Magra has seen to that. He has traveled the northern lands to warn the Elàni of you. They will never be taken so easily again. They will hunt you down should you return to the North, unless they are deceived. I am your last hope of victory. I will give courage to you, if you will only allow it. Try, now, and see my power! First, I will make this promise—If you allow the alliance to be formed, and it does not please you, then I will leave you as I found you. I cannot succeed without your willing participation, Elfhunter. Your spirit is strong, and you must agree to the plan or it will fail. I promise you that I will leave you in peace. But think on this…I cannot protect either of us from Wrothgar should you refuse. Therefore, I am understandably anxious to earn your cooperation. What is your will?”
“A promise from Lord Kotos! Well, I can act with surety now, can’t I?” said Gorgon.
Kotos was not angry, for he was a creature of nearly limitless patience when he wished to be. He knew how to convince Gorgon.
“I see I might have overestimated you, Elfhunter. I had thought you strong enough that you would not allow me to dominate your actions, yet now you are reluctant to allow my influence? Such reluctance, especially in the face of a solemn promise, can come only from fear and doubt.” Kotos searched Gorgon’s thoughts for a moment, for he had not yet learned to guard them.
“Would you not wish to banish Gelmyr forever from your awareness? It will be difficult for him to torment you through our combined strength. You will not doubt yourself once that strength is proven. Again, Elfhunter, what is your will? Will the hunter become the hunted, or will he be the destroyer? The choice is yours. I leave you to your thoughts. If you agree, merely place the amulet around your neck. Choose wisely, and do not dwell too long, as our first task must be completed soon. I await your decision.” With those words, the amulet went dark as the face of the old man vanished.
Gorgon paced slowly back and forth before the amulet, which he had set upon a stone. He growled and rumbled and purred deep in his broad chest, muttering and debating. He was still afraid, for true courage was a thing he had not experienced, but he was irresistibly drawn to the promise, and to the reward. And then there was the matter of Lord Wrothgar—the outcome of that conflict was certain. What would be the harm? He would prove his strength of spirit to Kotos, trusting him to keep his promise. It bothered Gorgon that Kotos doubted him.
“All right then, let us dance, you and I,” he said, as he picked up the amulet and gazed into the depths of the golden stone. There was no response from Lord Kotos, and so Gorgon filled his enormous chest with air, hesitated for just a moment longer, and placed the amulet around his thick, well-muscled neck, having to struggle for a moment to get it over his very large head. Then he sat down upon the stone, waiting.
“Well? Is anything going to happen?” he said to the surrounding darkness. “I feel no different.”
The voice of Kotos came to him then, warming him like the voice of an old friend. It has already happened, Gorgon. Look upon yourself and you will see.
Gorgon looked down at his arms, legs, and remaining hand. They were scarred and dark, and exactly as they had been when he had seen them last. “I see nothing different,�
� he growled.
You must see yourself as others would see you, said Kotos. Draw your blade and behold!
Gorgon drew his bright sword, holding it before his eyes. At first the vision was blurred, and he gave the blade a quick polish, the better to behold a sight that, at first, startled him nearly into dropping it. The beautiful golden-haired Elf looked back at him, his helmet polished to a mirror finish, his armor golden and glorious. His eyes were grey, clear, and bright. He was both hateful and magnificent—Gorgon despised the sight of him at once.
Look once more at your own body, said Kotos, and you will understand. Only others will see you in this way, as your blade sees you.
Gorgon took comfort in the sight of his familiar form as he beheld it.
So long as you wear the amulet, you will appear in Elven form. Do you really think your enemies will know you? I can assure you they won’t—I won’t let them! You can walk freely in their world if you allow me to guide and advise you. Alas, I cannot restore your left hand, but I can give the illusion that it is there. You will tell your enemies that you had been wounded in battle such that you could not heal, and there is no strength in your left hand. That should satisfy them.
Gorgon held his left arm before his sword-blade, turning it this way and that, taking notice of the perfect hand reflected in the blade. Then he tossed his now-beautiful head and laughed. This could succeed! He might truly have the chance to accomplish his life’s purpose, for now he could manipulate his enemies openly, and lure them to their doom. What a marvelous turn of fortune!
Inside Gorgon’s thoughts, Kotos smiled, for they had gone from conflicted to jubilant, and Kotos knew that he had succeeded in enlisting the aid of the Elfhunter. Now they had a task to perform, and quickly. Kotos whispered to Gorgon, urging him to leave the dark cavern for the open desert. Kotos only hoped that he would arrive in time to save El-morah from death, for the rest of his part in the plan was yet un-played.
Chapter 6
THE TEARS OF AONTAR
By the time they reached El-morah, it was nearly too late. Kotos had directed Gorgon across several miles of open desert to find a man clad in black robes, face down in the sand, breathing what was surely one of his last breaths. Gorgon turned El-morah over, taking note of his cracked lips, his sagging, wrinkled skin, and his limp, nearly lifeless limbs. He shook his head, muttering. “This one is all but gone. He is as dried up as an empty sack. I fear we have found him only to witness his death.”
Kotos was undaunted. Do not give up so easily. Only see what shade and water will do for him. And you had better find something for him to eat as soon as he is able.
“You drove him too hard,” said Gorgon. “He is beyond it now. You will have to make another plan.”
El-morah drew a painful breath, his face twisting into a mindless grimace of pain and effort, his back arching.
“You see? He is dying as we speak!”
I drove him as I needed to drive him! You delayed our return with your questions and doubts. Now we must act, and act quickly! Do as I instruct, Elfhunter, and stop this debate. If you do not allow me to direct you, we both will be undone. I don’t care about this man, but I need him, and that means you need him! He has an important role to play in our plan.
Gorgon’s brow furrowed. Kotos, like Wrothgar, would not admit to being wrong about anything. “As you wish,” he whispered, lifting El-morah and carrying him to the shade of stones. Setting the dying man down, he took a vessel of water from his belt and poured a very small amount between El-morah’s lips, shaking his head. “He cannot even swallow it. See? It’s trickling back out even now. There’s no use in this.”
Keep trying. He will come around.
Gorgon poured another small sip of water into El-morah’s mouth, and then shook him. “Come on, come on and swallow it, or you’re dead.”
I’m afraid I must intervene for a moment, said Kotos. I shall be leaving you, but your appearance will not change so long as you wear the amulet. Do not fear. At these words, he flowed forth from Gorgon and once again dwelled within El-morah, whose lifeless form immediately became more animated. Despite terrible, agonizing thirst El-morah heard the words of Kotos, and knew that if he did not rally he would never see his beloved family again.
You cannot aid them if you are dead. Drink the water that is given to you. Your loved ones need you, and you must drink. Find your strength that you may return to them.
El-morah would have wept, had he been capable. There was so much darkness and doubt in his mind…so much confusion. But he knew that the voice in his head was right, and he swallowed painfully. That’s right. Drink…drink of the water. El-morah found his strength, and, despite all prediction from Gorgon, he would live.
Gorgon realized two things during this exchange. The first was that he should not underestimate Kotos, whose knowledge was so much greater than his own. The second was far more disturbing. Kotos’ presence was comforting, and Gorgon had been disquieted when the dark spirit left him. He almost yearned for the return of his powerful ally, for when Kotos was with him his own strength was supported in a way that it had never been before. Gorgon, who had always dwelt alone in both body and spirit, had now allowed two beings to intrude upon him. The first, Gaelen Taldin, was a bitter enemy to be guarded against. But the second, Lord Kotos the Beguiler, was a guide.
Gorgon looked at his own reflection again, and smiled. Indeed, I am beautiful and impressive. They will never suspect me…Kotos will see to that. Would this be worth giving in to the will of another? It was the first time Gorgon had even asked this question of himself, and the answer was clear. Of course it would. He had no other choice. As the spirit of Kotos once again shared his consciousness, Gorgon put all debate from his mind. Kotos thought to use him, but, in fact, Gorgon now viewed Kotos as a weapon to be wielded. I will be the user, and Kotos will be my instrument. Denial of reality was a wondrous tonic, and Gorgon would partake of it often, for it would sustain him in the time to come.
Kotos made certain that El-morah would remember nothing of the desert crossing. He would not be able to recall any event, or know what part he had played in it. It would not do for him to regain his senses until the time was right. Gorgon bore him back to the dark underground sanctuary, there to ensure his survival until they were ready to leave for the city. All the while, Kotos instructed him. There were some preparations to make. By the time Gorgon had heard all that Kotos would tell, there was a faint smile upon his beautiful, cold face as well as in the depths of his equally cold heart.
Olan Estelar was the apprentice of one of the most learned star-masters in Dûn Arian. As such, he had measured and mapped the movements of the stars and the moon for several years now. He liked to occupy a position high on the top of one of the hills near the City, where no light would disrupt his view of the heavens. At only twenty years of age, he showed great promise, though his true passion lay in the forces that shaped winds and weather. The stars did not affect the people at all in his opinion, though they were useful as navigational tools.
This night he was recording and mapping movements of the stars since the previous reading—a tricky business requiring all of his attention. At last he set down his precious star maps, rolling them up for storage and transport in weather-tight containers before preparing to rest until dawn. Olan would wait until sunrise to begin his return journey, for he did not like traveling in darkness.
He built a small fire against the chilly night air, warming himself, as his eyelids grew heavy and he dozed for a while. An uneasy feeling began to take hold in the back of his mind…there was something amiss on the plateau. He came to himself, realizing that there was no sound other than the wind. No crickets chirped, no small creatures stirred and rustled as they went about their nightly affairs. In the eerie silence, he first saw the glow of the golden amulet by the light of his dying fire. Despite the undeniable feeling that he should not do so, Olan moved toward it, mesmerized, for he was too young and inexperienced to do o
therwise.
Kotos ensnared him as neatly as a crippled fish in a net, flowing into his astonished and relatively innocent mind with ease. I need you to secure the things I need.
In a few moments, Olan was heading back toward the city with all speed, despite the fact that he would never travel by night if he could help it. Somehow he knew he had nothing to fear, though he would know very little else until Kotos had finished with him. After that, it would not matter if he ever knew anything again. The amulet was left behind for Gorgon to reclaim; after all, it would not do for El-morah to see him in his true form. No, that would not do at all.
The Courtyard of the Scholars was filled with people by the time the sun had given way to early evening. Those present included all in the Company, as well as about fifty of the City’s most learned lore-masters, including Lord Salastor himself. The remaining spaces were filled by curious citizens, for they had learned that Lore-master Fima would be giving an accounting of the War of Betrayal, and that such a thing was not to be missed. Several vendors appeared, intending to sell breads and fruits along with sweet water and wine, but Fima scowled at them as he took his position on the raised stone dais at the northern end of the courtyard.
“This is an accounting of a woeful time so dark and shameful that Elves and Dwarves alike must hang their heads and grieve for what was lost,” he said. “It is not fitting that pleasures of eating and drinking should mix with such an event.” He turned to the now silent crowd as the vendors bowed and retreated into the shadows. Fima drew himself up tall, and began his tale.
“I’m sure you have all heard of the great realms of Elves and Dwarves. If so then you will have known of the Realm of Light, Eádros, said to be the most beautiful Elven-realm in all of Alterra. Likewise you would know of the Great City of Rûmm, the finest Dwarf-city ever carved from living rock. These two centers of beauty and knowledge were made through the efforts of both races working together, and they stood forth as examples of the magnificence that may be achieved through the blending of innumerable talents. Many skilled hands, quick minds, and fair hearts had a part in their making, for in those times the Dwarves of Rûmm and the Elves of Eádros were friends, and each appreciated the skills and gifts of the others. There was nothing they could not have achieved, given time and desire.