by C S Marks
Gaelen shook her head. They would all think her mad if she put forth that opinion. Now Orrion was showing great worth as a healer of those gone mad…perhaps they would ask him to heal her! A bitter smile came over her at the thought. “At least then I might learn his true nature.”
She had wrestled with her doubts for days, trying to lay them aside…the fact that Orrion’s left hand was dysfunctional, the fact that all measurements taken of him had indicated a much more massive being, and the undeniable fact that her awareness of Gorgon had resurfaced only a few days before the appearance of Orrion. The first and the last could be explained as coincidence, but what about the measurements?
Bint Raed is a sane, sensible person, and I trust her. She has certainly taken more than one set of measurements in her life. If she cannot explain the discrepancy, then it cannot be explained by anything normal.
Gaelen resolved that she would go to Fima and tell him of her concerns. She would put his ready mind to work, and perhaps between the two of them the mystery would be solved. Fima would not doubt her, surely!
She rose and summoned her grey horse, who stood before her with a long tussock of grass dangling from his mouth. He nodded his head up and down, sending sand and soil flying from the roots as Gaelen turned her head aside and closed her eyes. What a huge, ridiculous puppy you are! She reached out and grabbed the clump of roots and dirt, holding them fast. “All right, then, have your grass,” she said. The grey horse tugged and the stems tore free. He chewed them thankfully, his eyes never leaving hers as he reached out with his silken muzzle and touched her cheek with it. “You’re welcome,” she said, sighing at the thought of mounting his tall, broad back again. It was always a bit of a struggle for her. Even high tree limbs were easier, as they did not move and were not as round and slick.
The grey horse lowered his head and moved over to stand beside a great, flat stone that was about as high as his knees.
Gaelen smiled. “So! Is this an invitation? For once, I will not object to this concession to my slight stature. How clever you are!” She mounted him with ease, settling onto his strong back, which was becoming comfortably well-muscled, and made her way back to the City. As she rode, she resolved that he would be given a name before she reached the Great Gates. His hoof-beats—soft, yet powerful—echoed from the stony ground. “You are gentle thunder,” said Gaelen. “Your name is Toran.”
Gorgon had been resting in his chamber, his thoughts quiet for the moment, when he suddenly sat bolt upright as Kotos came to life within him. There was alarm in the voice that Gorgon heard inside his head. Awake! Guard yourself, for there is someone seeking you. Guard yourself, Elfhunter! Your thoughts have been too easily gained. Guard yourself!
“Who dares to invade my thoughts?” said Gorgon. “I have no sense of Gaelen Taldin…not at this moment.”
It is not the Wood-elf, it is…someone else. There is someone of power in the City. I had not been aware of it earlier…either it is newly arrived or it has been lying dormant…but now I feel it. There is a formidable being here. You must discover who it is, and then we must deal with it. This person can unmask you!
Kotos went silent for a moment, sending forth a web of thought to snare the seeker. This is a strong and perceptive spirit…and it knows and fears us, he said at last. Why have I not felt it before?
“I would have no idea,” Gorgon growled. “But you had better figure it out. I cannot roam through the City inquiring as to the whereabouts of powerful beings. After all, I am a representative of the Èolar…am I not supposed to know everything already?”
Take this not lightly! And the Èolar were not renowned for their conceit. They sought to know all things, and they were well aware that they did not. They were never content with the knowledge they did possess. It was their undoing, in a way.
“I thought you were their undoing,” said Gorgon with a sneering smile.
So I was, Elfhunter. Yet I could not have taken them so easily had it not been for their irrepressible curiosity. I knew things that they wished to learn, and that is why they trusted me. One is more easily beguiled with the promise of great reward. Even the wise will fall to the right incentive.
Gorgon did not reply because in his dark heart he loathed and feared Kotos. Gorgon, like his fair ancestors, was also irrepressibly curious. Would Kotos use that curiosity to ensnare him as he had the Èolar? Gorgon had chosen to share his inmost soul with this most ancient of dark powers. He had enmeshed his fate with that of the Shadowmancer’s right hand, and it overwhelmed and terrified him for a moment.
Have no fear. I will discover the identity of the one who seeks us, and then we will take care of the matter, you and I. We are partners—nay, Elfhunter, we are brothers—united in the task of destroying the Elves. Remember what I promised you? All shall come to pass. Do not fear.
But there was mistrust in Gorgon’s heart, though he did not reveal it. Kotos had said that even the wise would fall to the right incentive. Was he using the incentive of destroying the Elàni to gain dominion, so that despite his wisdom Gorgon, too, would fall one day?
Gaelen found Fima, having searched the halls and chambers of the Library until she discovered him. He was immersed in a manuscript detailing the founding of Tal-elathas, for he liked to explore the beginnings of things. The foundation of the Great Realms of Alterra had always fascinated him. He brightened when he saw Gaelen and bade her sit with him.
“Here, Gaelen…look at these renderings of the lost realm of Tal-elathas! Are they not the most beautiful structures? See how clever the design is…they look as though they would stand until the end of time.”
Gaelen admitted that the drawings were most impressive, though they were a bit too solid, in her opinion, to be called beautiful. She preferred structures that blended in more with their surroundings. The cities of men seemed to rise out of the landscape and to be separate from it. Elven-realms, particularly those of the Sylvan folk, were made to recede into their surroundings as though they were a part of nature. It would seem that the Èolar had wanted their edifices to be more imposing. Dwarves, who were more like men in their love of large, stone-carved dwellings, would have admired Tal-elathas.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your studies,” said Gaelen, “but there are matters I would share with you, and they are important. Please, may we speak for a while?” She took a furtive look around. It would never do for this discussion to be overheard, and though she did not see anyone else nearby, she was uncomfortable. “Please, might we go to your private study?”
Fima wondered what she was on about. He knew Gaelen well enough to recognize that she would never bother him over nothing. “We will go wherever you like. But might I remain for just a while longer? I really would like to finish what I have begun. Is this matter truly urgent?”
Gaelen frowned. “Well, no, not all that urgent. It won’t hurt to delay for a few hours, I suppose. But I would hope to speak with you today, at least. This will be difficult enough, and I would not lose my resolve.”
Fima raised an eyebrow at her. To hear Gaelen speak of any loss of resolve was most uncharacteristic. “All right, Gaelen. Let’s have luncheon together in my chamber at noon. I will have a repast sent in. What would you like?”
“I doubt I will be much in the mood for eating,” she said, “but I will join you then. In the meantime, enjoy your manuscript.”
“Oh, I will! Our visitor has been enlightening me. In fact, he is returning now. I have so many questions to ask…did you know that he was actually there, at the founding of Tal-elathas? He remembers so much of history, and he is willing to spend time sharing it! It is a great gift to me and to the City.”
“What visitor?” said Gaelen, her eyes narrowing beneath furrowed brows. Just as she asked the question, Orrion appeared carrying several additional parchments, which he placed with some ceremony on the table in front of Fima. Gaelen drew back in spite of herself as he looked down upon her with a passive expression.
“Ah!
I see Fima has a visitor,” he said in his beautiful, deep, purring voice. “Gaelen, I have been told that you have something of an interest in Tal-elathas. Is that so?”
“No, it is not so,” Gaelen replied. “Whoever told you was mistaken.”
Fima was taken aback by such unwarranted bluntness in Gaelen. She had stopped just short of being rude. Orrion looked puzzled. “That’s strange. I would have thought that, since you have such a deep and abiding interest in Ri-Elathan, you would appreciate knowing more of his family. I knew his father, Ri-Aldamar, very well on a time.”
“So you did, I’m sure,” said Gaelen, trying to unclench her teeth. The pain of losing her beloved Rain was always with her, and she resented the reminder, especially coming from Orrion. “Right now I am more interested in knowing how you came by such personal information. I most assuredly would not have revealed it to you, and there are very few persons who know of it. From where did you gain this knowledge?”
Orrion seemed to not hear her. “Yes, Ri-Aldamar shared many of his gifts with his sons. They were tall and strong, courageous, wise…how fortunate that Ri-Aldamar had the foresight to separate them ere Tal-elathas fell.”
Kotos looked hard at Gaelen then. “Ri-Aldamar gave his deep, grey eyes only to Farahin. Iomar’s eyes were blue. But Rain’s beautiful dark hair came from his mother. Ri-Aldamar’s was lighter.” Gaelen’s thoughts drifted as she heard those words, and a vision of her beloved formed within them, but it was not the vision Kotos would have wanted. A single word came to her mind…Beware.
Gaelen shook off the mesmerizing effect of Orrion’s eyes and glanced over at Fima. His expression was rapt—a lore-master looking forward to first-hand information from an ancient and noble source. Orrion had won Fima’s heart already, and this did not bode well for the future discussion of her concerns.
I’m the only one who ever refers to Farahin as ‘Rain’ and yet now Orrion has done so. He’s deliberately trying to unsettle me!
When Orrion had appeared, every hair on her neck had stood straight up; he needn’t have expended any additional effort in unsettling her. But then, when he looked into her eyes…
He is beguiling me. I dare not fall into the trap again. She thought about calling off her rendezvous with Fima, but thought better of it. She knew that at least he would keep her confidence, and perhaps when he was no longer in the presence of Orrion, his mind would clear and he would hear her.
“Are you certain you will not join us?” asked Orrion in an earnest tone, as though he would be truly disappointed should she refuse. She simply shook her head, bowed to Fima, and took her leave.
Have you gone mad? said Kotos. Why, in the name of heaven, did you call him Rain!”
“Did you see the look on her face…the hurt in her eyes?” whispered Gorgon. “I just couldn’t help myself.”
Orrion chuckled and shook his head, and for a fleeting moment Fima both saw and heard the malice there, though it vanished when Orrion turned his deep, wise eyes back upon him.
Gaelen met Fima in his private study at noon. As promised, there was plenty of food available. She knew that Fima disliked eating alone, so she took a piece of dark bread with butter and honey before settling upon an overstuffed chair covered in worn, dark red velvet. Fima looked up from his own plate long enough to raise an eyebrow at her. “You are obviously disquieted. You appear to be perching on that chair rather than sitting in it, as though preparing to take flight at any moment. What has unsettled you?”
Gaelen drew a deep breath. She loved Fima, and in her heart she trusted him, yet she was still reluctant. “Did you finish your work with Orrion?”
“For the moment,” said Fima, his eyes growing brighter. “Did you know that Orrion is one of the few souls left alive who actually witnessed the building of the Great Hall of Tal-elathas? He tells me that Dwarves had a fair hand in it, for they got on well with the Èolar. He said he worked side-by-side with many of them over time, and he even remembered their names. All records of them were lost when the City fell, and their contributions to that Great Realm have not been acknowledged since.” He rubbed his hands together. “Wait until I tell Lady Ordath! Wouldn’t it be wonderful to conduct Orrion back to Mountain-home? I just hope I’m there to record the tales he tells!”
“Does it not seem strange that he remembers so much of times long past, but can neither remember nor locate Mountain-home?” said Gaelen. “I still don’t understand why he is in Dûn Arian. It seems a very unnatural journey for an Elf to make.”
“He explained that already,” said Fima with a very slight wave of his hand. “While he was frozen, his memory was affected. It’s often the case that recent events are lost, while very distant ones are retained. I recall when one of my brothers was felled by a boulder, and he could not remember anything beyond early childhood for several weeks.”
“But why is he here? Why did he not stay in the northlands where he would be more at home? Whatever would motivate him to cross that desert? Would you have done so had you not seen a great need?”
“Perhaps he wanted to warn everyone of the amassing of Dark Forces near the Fell-ruin. He said he heard a call to go south. How many High-elves have you actually met, Gaelen? Are they not given to foresight and insight?”
“Some are,” she replied. “But if Orrion was given insight, if his destiny was to warn the Elves against Wrothgar, would he not have been directed to Mountain-home, or Tal-sithian, or even Dûn Bennas? We have no hope of getting a message back to the northern realms with any speed. Wrothgar might have mounted his offensive by now, for all we know. It just doesn’t make sense.” She sighed and shook her head. “You, of all people I know, are among the most sensible and clear-headed. Yet it would seem that Orrion has won you over, such that you cannot see just how…odd he is!”
Fima had stopped eating and was now focused on her. “You might seem odd, too, Gaelen, if you had been frozen in a block of ice for a thousand years. What has he done to make you so wary of him? Since he arrived he has healed our friend El-morah, after first saving his life in the desert, he has since healed many other lost souls here, and he has provided us with a wealth of lore that we had thought forever lost. What harm, or evil, has he caused?”
Gaelen thought for a moment. I know Fima won’t be able to make the connection with Gorgon Elfhunter…I don’t blame him. It seems absurd even to me, but…I can’t shake it, no matter how many times I try. “I’m sorry,” she said after a long pause. “Now that I think on it, perhaps this is not the time to speak of this matter. I do have concerns about Orrion, but I cannot as yet explain them and I would prefer to watch and wait for a while. But I say this to you now…be wary of him! Do you not think it strange that he promises the very things you most desire? Something about him is…wrong. Take nothing he offers without guarding yourself.”
She rose from the chair and turned to leave. “Thank you for the luncheon. Perhaps I will reveal more of my concerns upon another time.” She was gone then, and Fima was left to wonder what concerns she could possibly have about someone so venerable, so helpful, so beautiful, and of her own kind.
Orrion went out into a dark, rainy night, having bathed and scented his body. He moved in total silence through the deserted streets, avoiding the sentinels as he approached the tall tower that was the home of Aryiah, the Seer. It was her spirit that had drawn the attention of Lord Kotos, for he could sense her power. Aryiah was dangerous, for she was a true seer, and it was possible that she would pierce his disguise. If that happened, both he and Gorgon would be undone. Well, no matter. He would take care of the problem tonight.
He took advantage of Gorgon’s uncanny stealth, making his way to the base of the tower. Once there, he summoned Karatsu, the tame crow that had followed his master Okami to the City. Karatsu was highly susceptible to suggestion, and he flew at the bidding of Kotos, who now dwelled within him. Kotos had left Gorgon with instructions, and now he flew forth, spiraling upward on the damp and heavy air to the eight-s
ided window in the roof of the chamber where Aryiah slept.
Aryiah awakened with a deep and very primal fear gnawing at her heart. She was alert and waiting when Karatsu appeared, fluffing his glossy feathers, lifting his clawed, dark feet slowly and carefully as he stepped onto the window-ledge. He looked down at her with a baleful black eye, shook himself, and gave out one harsh, loud cry. Aryiah, of course, could not see him, and the sound startled her. Then, to her horror, Karatsu began to laugh, not as a crow does, for they possess a highly developed sense of humor among birds, but as an evil, ill-natured person might laugh. The sound of it froze Aryiah’s heart and turned her stomach at the same time.
She heard the voice of Lord Kotos within her mind, for he could speak from afar to people of insight. Hail, Aryiah, Seer of Dûn Arian! We meet at last. I have felt your presence for many days now, and I believe it’s time you and I became acquainted.
Aryiah said no word as yet, for she was still trying to fathom what sort of being had invaded her thoughts, though she had realized already that it was an evil presence. Kotos would never beguile her, and he knew it. You have sensed my presence also, have you not? That is why I am here, for I must tell you, to my great regret, that you are a liability, and I cannot allow you to draw breath any longer.
Kotos braced himself then for the battle to come as Aryiah took flight, running toward the heavy door to her private chamber.