Ravenshade

by C S Marks

  Azori was amused. “My apologies. I had forgotten. But am I at least free to abuse Gaelen as I like? May I subject her to the fondling and embracing characteristic of sutherling custom? May I slobber over her, then?” His jesting was obvious, and Gaelen smiled. She had liked Azori ever since her first encounter with the Scourge.

  “Oh, most assuredly—particularly when she has a weapon in her hand,” said Galador, his expression utterly impassive. Nelwyn laughed, and the tension was broken. Galador did indeed possess a sense of humor.

  The Company would depart in a few days. This would allow time to repair any questionable gear, trim the feet of the horses, and arrange for additional provisions without arousing suspicion. A few of the citizens would need to be told—Khandor and Bint Raed, for example. But most would awaken on the first day of the Company’s absence to find that their respected and beloved new friends had left them. Many would mourn their departure, and few would understand it.

  Fima was uneasy as he made his preparations. Rogond had spoken with him about it several times; Fima had long known that his tall friend was attuned to the anxieties of those he cared about. Fima would rather not have admitted it, but he did not know whether he was physically capable of withstanding the challenge of another long desert journey. Rogond understood well how that could be so.

  “I don’t blame you for worrying, Fima,” he said. “I have noticed that your condition has improved of late, in fact you seem to be your old self again, but you alone must decide whether you can face the stresses that will surely find us. Rest assured that we will do everything possible on your behalf, but know also that we will be traveling with all speed. You will need to ride, and ride hard.”

  “I know,” said Fima. “I do wish they had not selected the desert course. However bad the forest is, it surely cannot be as bad as the choking dust and thirst.”

  “Yet lift your heart, for we will have several experienced guides with us,” said Rogond. “And they have assured me that the way we are taking is very easy compared with the way we came to the City. There should be water sources nearly all the way, and two dromadin should carry all the water we need to sustain us in between. I sense that the desert will not burden us unduly.”

  “You don’t need to spend time in reassuring me,” said Fima with a thin veneer of confidence drawn over his face. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “The fact is…I’m old, Rogond. I have been denying it for many years now, but I have lately come to realize it. I wish that I could stay here, where so much is still unknown to me, but…as it is not my destiny to learn everything there is in the world to know, I will go with my friends. It’s just that…when I came here, I was dying. I remained alive because of this place and the things that may be found here. I hope I live long enough to return one day.”

  Rogond nodded his understanding. “One day, you will return here. If we both survive the upcoming trial, and I am free to do so, I will see you safely back to the Silver Fortress.”

  “Only if you can talk Gaelen into coming as well,” said Fima, who was blustering to hide the fact that he was touched by Rogond’s devotion. “And who knows? Perhaps in the meantime I will see Lady Ordath and tell her of my great discovery. Her scholars will turn green with envy!” He paused, smiling. “So it’s settled, then! I must leave now, if only to arrange to see Elves turning green. I would pay dearly to see that.”

  Throughout this discussion, Lord Kotos the Deceiver had been in a state of near-panic. He had never even considered the possibility that Fima would decide to remain behind. If that had happened, things would have been most difficult. There was no other suitable host to bear him. He could not dwell in an inanimate object, for it might be left behind, lost, or cast aside. And he most certainly could not inhabit anyone else in the Company. Only Fima could bear him without detection. Because Kotos could not influence Fima’s thinking, he was at the mercy of whatever course the dwarf would choose.

  When Fima decided at last that he would accompany his friends, Kotos relaxed, but he was weary and drained. He was glad that the journey would begin soon, as he did not like being a mere passenger—he much preferred being in control. The sooner he rejoined Gorgon Elfhunter, the better.

  Had Gorgon been privy to Kotos’ thoughts, he would have agreed with them, but only in part. He had hunkered down in the lands north of the City. Gaelen would no doubt alert him once she was on the move. He had removed the amulet, and now faced the world as his true self, crouching in the driving rain, reveling in the feel of freedom. He would not dare disobey Lord Kotos, but it felt so good to know that his thoughts were known only to himself. He could once again decide his own actions. It was true that he had grown accustomed to some of the amenities of Dûn Arian, but he had just as quickly reverted back to his old habits of eating raw flesh and resting in hard, shadowed places. He was only now recognizing the terrible drain sharing consciousness with Kotos had been. Since he had been on his own again, he needed far less rest.

  Perhaps it was not entirely Kotos that had drained him. For one such as Gorgon, it was difficult even trying to feign domestication, let alone civilization. He was most content in solitude. Yet he would welcome his dreadful partner when the time came, for only through Kotos could he achieve his heart’s desire.

  He sighed, gazing into the beautiful golden stone of the amulet, where now only his own dark visage glared back at him. It was regrettable, but Gorgon knew that he would need to travel in the guise of Orrion so that, if perchance someone saw him, they would not try to slay him. Gorgon was tired of Orrion, for he prided himself on his ferocity, which was difficult to convey when cursed with such beauty. There was nothing to do now but linger and lurk, and hope that the Company would soon be on the move.

  Gaelen had asked her friends if El-morah might be invited to accompany them. It would make sense, as he would have plenty of company. He could go with them as far north as he desired, making his way eastward at a time of his choosing. Carmyn had indicated that the lands directly between the Chupa oasis and the brown hills were not safe to cross—there were sand-pits scattered all about, and only a very lucky traveler would circumvent all of them. Therefore, El-morah would need to make his way almost as far north as the River Dessa before going east again. Naturally, there was no objection to El-morah’s joining the Company. One more desert-wise comrade would not hurt their chances at all. Gaelen proposed this notion to El-morah and he agreed to make ready at once.

  Eleven horses and two dromadin stood ready in the small courtyard that led to the hidden northern entrance to the City. The Company had spent much of the afternoon quietly saying farewell to their friends. It had been especially difficult for Nelwyn to leave Bint Raed, and both Gaelen and Khandor had shed silent tears as Gaelen embraced Siva and her beautiful little foal.

  “You must give him a name before you depart,” said Khandor in a voice that was gruffer than usual. “One day I expect you to come back and claim him. I will care for him until you do.”

  “I will think on it,” said Gaelen. “I will fear no mishap befalling him if you are in charge of his care. I am honored to have known you.” She bowed in respect and turned to leave.

  “Just take care of our young master Toran,” he called after her. “He will impress you one day…I just know it.”

  “He has already done so,” laughed Gaelen, “in ways you cannot imagine. I thank you for him. Now let’s hope I survive until he matures!”

  Khandor laughed along with her. Then he looked away for a moment, and she was gone.

  Visili had arranged to guard the northern entrance this night, for he would see his friends safely on their way. He was accompanied by a very grim Lord Salastor, and Maji, who had been weeping for some time by the look of things. She had become fond of all in the Company.

  Eros, Réalta, Gryffa, and Faladinn stood together as Toran ambled over. Where are we going? Is there to be an adventure? I do hope we will return in time for another feeding…it has been hours and hours since the last
one.

  Réalta snorted and threw his head in the air, his ears laid flat back in annoyance. Foolish creature! Do you not know that such an early feeding means a long journey? You will get another feeding, but it will not be here. Why do you think we are all carrying so much gear? Don’t waste our time with such ignorance.

  Faladinn snorted and shook his plain, brown head. Aren’t we the snooty one this morning, Réalta? I wouldn’t complain about having to carry so much gear if I were you. What’s the matter…is the prospect of a journey taking your good humor? Will you miss your soft bedding and clean feed? Ha! You should come to my lands. Then again, you wouldn’t last long, not with as much feed as you require! He nodded his head up and down, which was his way of laughing, as Réalta pretended to ignore him.

  Eros chortled at Toran, moving to scratch the base of the younger horse’s neck. Never mind. Réalta is right; we are going on a long journey. I suppose it will be your first. But be of good cheer. After all, your burden is both light and capable. If I could not bear my Warrior, I would next choose the Singer. She will provide well for you.

  That’s right, said Gryffa. It’s a fine thing to bear an Elf. They are very good at keeping us from harm, and they ride light. You need not be afraid.

  Now it was Toran’s turn to raise his head. Afraid? Me? I see you have mistaken me for another animal. Most certainly, I am not afraid. I can hardly wait to go on a long journey. Yes indeed, the prospect frightens me not at all. Where…where are we going? He began to sidle and fret, betraying false confidence. Toran had not been away from the City for more than a day in a very long time. Yet this was not his first long journey.

  I don’t know the answer to that, said Eros. I never know where the Warrior intends to go, but I do know the difference between the gear I carry for a short foray and that needed for a long haul. This will be long. Now, don’t disturb me, as I am resting until we depart. I would suggest that you do the same. He dropped his head again and rested one of his scarred hind legs.

  Toran blew through wide nostrils. He would not be able to rest, not now. The whole matter was far too exciting.

  Salastor stood before the Company and made his farewells. “I have small gifts for each of you,” he said. I would have given more, but I know that I must not burden you, so these gifts are small and practical, to aid you in your journey. The City of Dûn Arian would see your triumphant return one day.” He gave a very well made compass to Rogond, and another to Hallagond. He gave Gaelen and Nelwyn each a fine leather pouch, fitted to carry the small phials of dragon-fire at their belts. He also bestowed a container of dark, wild honey, to their delight.

  Fima and Azori each received a pouch of excellent pipe-leaf, which they would enjoy, although Azori would probably have preferred marwani-weed. El-morah and Galador each were given a fine, sharp knife in a leather sheath. Estle actually did receive marwani-weed, which pleased her to no end. It always improved her outlook on things.

  Rogond bowed before Lord Salastor. “I speak for the Company in expressing thanks for all you have done for us, though no thanks can be adequate. You preside over a wondrous realm, and you have earned your place among the Wise. Our good will and thanks are yours forever.”

  Salastor returned the gesture. “Your Company saved our City. No thanks are needed from you, for we are ever in your debt. I look forward to the day that you return to us, if the fates are willing. Now speed well on your journey, and our people will pray for your success. May the Lord of Light watch over you.”

  The Company bowed and bade him farewell, mounting their horses and securing the pack animals. Then they moved with quiet determination through the small, hidden portal into a night that was heavy with the promise of rain. It was a somber beginning, and each soul kept to its own thoughts as the Company put its back to one of the fairest realms of men ever to grace the shores of the World that Is.

  Almost everyone’s thoughts were focused on the journey ahead, except Gaelen’s. Where is Gorgon? When will I learn what has become of him? She rode with her mind and heart wide open, trying to catch any sign of him, for in recent days she had become convinced that he was still close by. If anyone had asked her about it she would not have been able to explain, but in fact, she had caught something in the wind.

  The journey back northward was quite different from the long and uncertain path the Company had taken since leaving the Greatwood so long ago. They were now certain of their course, they had a fairly accurate map, and they were returning to familiar lands. They knew that they could not tarry, for if Nelwyn’s insights were correct, there was some urgency in reaching Tal-sithian. For all they knew, Wrothgar had already achieved his foul victory. Estle asked Hallagond this very question as she rode beside him. “Is it possible that we are returning to a world overwhelmed by Darkness?”

  Hallagond shrugged. “I won’t say that anything is impossible. Perhaps you should ask Rogond. He knows more of Elves and their foresight than I will ever know.”

  Rogond thought for a moment before he replied. “I do not believe Wrothgar has taken the northern lands—if he had, the Elves would know it. A shift in the balance so far toward the side of evil would have surely upset them, and I sense no such disquiet in them. We have time, but we must not delay.” He set his jaw as he said these words, his grey eyes glinting in the early morning light. At the same time Fima, who rode behind, tightened his hold on Rogond’s midsection just a little. This would not be an easy journey for either of them.

  Eros swiveled his ears around backward in an expression of momentary annoyance. Whenever Fima became tense, he stiffened up and came down harder on Eros’ loins. A tense rider is a weary rider, and a weary rider is a burden.

  Eros wrinkled his black and gold muzzle and shook his head. I do so wish he would relax. I am going to be quite vexed with him if he doesn’t…I’m traveling as smoothly as I can.

  Beside him, Réalta was striding along easily with his head and tail in the air. I am sorry for you, my friend. It’s such a shame that you have such a heavy burden, while I bear a Prince of Elves. If I could aid you, I would, but alas, it would seem that the dwarf trusts only you to bear him. Such a pity.

  I could carry him if you want, said Toran. He doesn’t look like so much, and my rider is the lightest of all of them. I’ll bear him, Eros, if you get tired.

  Réalta snorted, but Eros put his ears forward again. You have a good heart, but I fear this rider needs an experienced animal to bear him. He’s heavier than he looks.

  Yes, said Réalta. That’s the other reason they will not choose me to bear him. I am not as strong as Eros. No…it’s my task to be the swiftest, and so I am. Swifter than all of you! Réalta was proud of his ability to outrun any other horse in the Company.

  How do you know? You have never tested yourself against me, said Toran, increasing his pace just a little as he did so.

  You think you can best me? said Réalta, increasing his own pace to match Toran, and then to exceed him. You’re even more foolish than I thought.

  The two silver-grey horses were rapidly working their way to the front of the line. They drew away from Eros and the ever-practical Faladinn, passing Hallagond, Estle, and El-morah. Now only Nelwyn and Azori remained between them and wide open lands.

  “Easy, Réalta, no racing today,” said Galador. He turned to Gaelen. “It would seem they are urging one another into a challenge.”

  “No doubt they are,” said Gaelen. “Yet we cannot afford such a waste of energy. A pity…I have yet to see Toran’s top end of speed. I expect it’s something to see.”

  Galador was unimpressed. “No one bests Réalta.” It was true that no one ever had.

  “We will see one of these days,” said Gaelen, as she drew Toran back. He wanted to defy her, but knew better.

  You certainly gave in easily, said Réalta. Could it be that you know you cannot win?

  I cannot go against the wishes of the Singer, said Toran. He was a good-natured animal, and refused to be baited.
Regrettably, he was distracted, and did not notice the stone over which he now stumbled, breaking his rhythm and pitching Gaelen forward onto his withers. She steadied and patted him, but Réalta lifted his nose in contempt.

  I don’t see the point in challenging you when you cannot even move forward without stumbling. Foolish young animal!

  The truth was that although Réalta was still vigorous, the long miles had taken their toll on him. For example, he noticed that on some mornings his legs ached, and he seemed to require more rest than he used to. Toran, whose legs were all springs and steel, and who had no old battle-wounds to contend with, annoyed Réalta. He was unproven and uncouth, and yet he dared think himself worthy to challenge the swiftest horse ever to bear an Elf? Not likely!

  Satisfied that his point had been taken, Réalta dropped back beside Eros at the request of Galador.

  You’re not fooling anyone, you know, said Eros. Stop worrying so about being the swiftest, and settle instead for being the most wise. Oh…no, I forgot—you can’t, because I am! Eros snorted and chuckled at Réalta, who took a swipe at him with a hind leg. Ow! I hope that made you feel better, said Eros. Toran is young, and he is well made and long-strided. One of these days the years will catch you, my dear friend. That is the way of things. Better to not fret over it.

  Spoken like one with no reputation to lose, said Réalta. You have never won a race in all your life.

  No, I haven’t ever cared to, said Eros. My talents lie elsewhere.

  “Quit fussing, you two!” said Rogond.

  You may believe that Toran is swifter than I am, yet I believe he is stronger than you are, said Réalta, determined to pick a fight with someone.