by C S Marks
So what if he is? I have my Warrior. All is right with the world, said Eros, and that was that.
The Company made rapid progress, traveling mostly by night and resting by day. They encountered no one, and with so many desert-wise folk among them their confidence was high. They kept near the boundary of the hills to the west, making between twenty and thirty miles a day, depending on the heat and the footing. After so much time in the moderate, rainy climate of the Citadel they were no longer accustomed to the heat of the deep desert, so when they prepared to rest they would make their way into the foothills where there was shade aplenty. The soil was either sandy or rocky, and both were taxing to the horses. It was fortunate that there were many knowledgeable pairs of eyes and hands to aid them in staying sound.
As the Company prepared to rest on one bright late morning, Galador first spotted a lone rider coming up from behind. “Be alert, everyone. A rider follows us. I cannot determine much as yet…we should conceal ourselves until we can learn more.”
Rogond nodded in agreement. “Send the hunter-scouts aloft and see what they can determine,” he said. Gaelen and Nelwyn bowed and made their way quickly to the closest vantage point, flattening their bodies upon the rock, concealed in their grey cloaks. As soon as the mounted figure drew near enough for a good look, they returned to their friends.
“The rider is a woman, though her garb makes this harder to determine, as her hair and face are covered. I believe she has followed us here from the City,” said Gaelen.
“And why do you believe that?” asked Azori.
“Because both Nelwyn and I recognize the horse she is riding,” said Gaelen.
“We still must be cautious,” said Estle. “We don’t know who might be following us.”
“I know one thing,” said Gaelen. “The horse belongs to a woman named Carmyn. Of course, the horse might have been stolen. There is no guarantee that Carmyn is the rider.”
“I know Carmyn, and she is a friend,” said Fima. “She is one of the most respected map-makers in the City.”
“What would a map-maker be doing all the way out here, following us?” asked Gaelen.
“I don’t know, but some are very adventurous, even going out and taking their own readings in uncharted lands. I have tried my hand at map-making, and it is no easy task.”
Gaelen nodded. “Yes, I noticed that, as I look at your map of the northern lands. The Linnefionn appears much larger than I believe it is.”
“Well, Arialde doesn’t allow strangers to measure or assess the borders of her realm, and those who try are bewildered into the illusion that the Lake is much larger. I would love the chance to see it drawn accurately one day.”
“Why should a map-maker seek to track the Company?” asked Estle, who was still suspicious of the rider.
“We’ll soon find out,” said El-morah. “We should remain in concealment until she arrives. If she is tracking us, she will come straight here.”
“Let’s set up camp so that she will not realize we are aware of her,” said Azori. He began the task of picketing the horses and tossing their belongings into the shade. Then everyone except Fima, El-morah, and Azori hid among the rocks. When the rider eventually gained the encampment, she removed her head-covering to reveal dark brown hair and a broad, friendly face with intelligent blue-grey eyes. It was indeed Carmyn, the map-maker.
“Hail, Lore-master Fima,” she said, looking around for the others. “Where are your companions? Surely they’re not afraid of me. I mean no harm.”
“Why have you come?” asked Fima. “Is there some urgent matter that drives you here?”
“Might I please dismount and rest from my travels first? I am weary. Keeping up with you has been no easy task.”
“Tell me about it,” Fima muttered under his breath.
“You should know that we are watching you quite closely until we are certain your intentions are not hostile,” said Azori.
“Fair enough,” said Carmyn, bowing to Azori, Fima, and El-morah. She dismounted and led her weary horse, a sturdy roan gelding, to the picket line. After watering him and securing him with the others, she returned to sit beside Fima. “Where are the rest of them?” she asked.
“Look around you!” said Fima with a smile, and Carmyn was shocked to see the three Elves, Rogond, Hallagond, and Estle emerge as though from nowhere. They had been well concealed. The Company allowed their guest to eat and drink before questioning her again.
She turned to Fima. “Well, Master, you left before I could get everything ready to accompany you. I didn’t even have the chance to ask permission, but I’m asking now—I want to travel with you, to see the northern lands and record them. Most of all, I don’t wish to leave you…I want to learn more, if you will allow it.” Fima was touched by this apparent devotion, and he patted her on the shoulder as she sat blushing with her eyes downcast.
“I promise that I will not be a burden, for I ride well and I will not complain. I will apprentice myself to you, and will swear to serve you if only you will teach me.” The Company could not help but be impressed with the honesty of her admiration.
Rogond turned to Gaelen, whispering, “What does the hair on the back of your neck say now?”
“It is quite flat and unconcerned. I trust her, and so, I believe, may we all. Everything is as it seems this time. Besides…she got herself here with one horse and no pack animals. She’s obviously adept at surviving. I would welcome her.”
That was a good enough argument for the rest of the Company, and Fima was delighted to have acquired an apprentice. When it came to the sharing of learning and lore, he was a very giving sort of fellow, especially when he received admiration and devotion in return. Even Lord Kotos would listen on occasion, for there were matters of recorded history which a dark being such as Kotos had almost certainly never been afforded the chance to know.
The Company now numbered ten, and they discovered that Carmyn was a resourceful traveling companion. She had spent some time in the area surrounding Dûn Arian, either alone or with a single apprentice, and she knew how to be sensible in wild lands. She stayed mostly with Fima, and in fact her horse, whose name was Haji, was occasionally allowed to bear two riders. Fima enjoyed traveling with Carmyn, who did not weigh as much as Rogond, hence Haji had little difficulty carrying Fima along with her.
“I had nearly reached the point where I would have needed to turn back,” said Carmyn. “I could only carry so much water, and I did not entirely trust the maps of this region, as I did not make them. I’m so glad I found you when I did.”
Fima smiled. “Well, I understand your reluctance to rely on others, yet sometimes we must all do so. Rogond! It would seem that we are blessed with another independent female mind!”
“Blessed, or saddled?” said Azori as he rode past.
“That would be yours to determine,” said Estle. “Come on, Carmyn…let’s gather these independent female minds together and see what mischief they can arrange, shall we?”
“All that would come out of such a gathering is a whole lot of gossip,” said Azori, shaking his head in good-natured disgust.
“I have never gossiped in my life,” said Gaelen. “Men, on the other hand, seem to spend hours speaking of other people’s affairs when they are not present. Do not deny it! I have spent enough time around all of you to know it.”
“And when did you hear men gossiping, Gaelen?” asked Rogond, who honestly wanted to know.
“You worked with me on that wall! You heard it yourself,” she replied. “Nothing but talk, talk, talk about who was drinking too much, who was married but looking too quickly upon another, who was taking advantage of his relations, and so on, and so on…center of enlightenment, indeed! You are all the same. You would much rather talk than work.”
Azori snorted. “Oh, and I know for a fact that my sister, for one, loves to gather with her friends and discuss female issues. Mostly I think they are disparaging one another behind their backs.”
> “Commiserating is more like it!” said Estle with a toss of her head. “In my lands we have much to commiserate over, such as who is being beaten by whom, whose children are being threatened, who is being forced to marry someone she doesn’t like, who is trapped by tradition and is powerless to change her fortunes because of fear for her life, and so on.”
Estle was bitter about such things, for she knew that they were true for many women of the Ravi. The mood of the Company had now changed, and there was no more jesting. They rode along in silence until Estle spoke again. “For my part, I have avoided any such trials because my older brother convinces any suitor who would think of abusing me to think again. How fortunate I have been! Mind you… it has put a damper on my love life.”
“How does he convince them?” asked El-morah, who thought he knew the answer already.
Estle sighed. “Usually he takes them out in the desert, and they never come back.”
Azori shot a wicked look at El-morah, and grinned. “What else can I do? She’s my sister.”
The Company soon learned that merely looking at a map does not tell the story of how long a journey will take. Drawing a more-or-less straight line between water stops was all well and good, but in practice their course was slower than predicted due to long stretches of bad footing. The horses could not make time under such conditions, as deep sand is probably the worst footing there is, twisting their limbs as it shifted beneath their feet. It held them, and they were weary. It was decided that perhaps the rocky terrain of the foothills would be preferable, until one day Galador pulled up short and declared, to everyone’s dismay, that Réalta had gone lame. He stood on three legs with a large, jagged stone lodged in the heel of his left forefoot. Though Galador pried it loose, the damage had been done.
“He is badly bruised,” said Gaelen, shaking her head. “He will be lame for a long time…several weeks by my estimation. We must get off these rocks. Like it or not, the deep sand is our only alternative now. At least it will not aggravate this injury too much. But he must rest that foot for a few days...we can go no farther until he can walk, at least.” She patted Galador’s shoulder. “Never mind. I have a few tricks that might aid him.”
The Company was forced to set up camp, and no one was happy about it. They were not certain of the distance to the next available water, and their own rations were running low. “If the animal has not recovered sufficiently in three days, we will need to leave him behind,” said Azori. “Otherwise we risk everyone, for to delay further will mean running out of water. If anything else happens to delay us, we will need to sacrifice more than just one horse to survive. We have an extra horse for Galador to ride.”
“Let’s not speak of such things until we must,” said Rogond. “Galador loves Réalta…they have been together for years. Let Gaelen and Nelwyn work on him. It will be Nelwyn’s decision in the end, anyway.”
Galador, Gaelen, and Nelwyn used all the skills they had to heal Réalta. They poulticed his foot with a paste made from the abundant minerals of the region, and they padded it so that it would not pain him as much. Gaelen made new wraps for both front legs to prevent strains and swelling, especially of the sound limb, which now bore most of Réalta’s weight. He submitted to their attentions with no complaint.
During that time there was much debate as to how the Company would avoid disaster as they passed through the lands east of Fómor. The Corsairs were dangerous folk, and they generally liked to murder and rob travelers without asking any questions. Yet they were also known to be inquisitive, and they held a sort of primitive honor and loyalty with respect to one another. Hence, Azori, who was as near to a Corsair as could be without actually being one, might delay them from violence. “We cannot be certain of that,” said Azori. “Although I have been to Fómor, and in fact I have fit in quite well there, it might not be enough to turn them. It is better to avoid any encounters.”
“A pity that such inconvenient people have to exist,” said Fima, who was not looking forward to any confrontation.
“Ah, but they have been very convenient to Dûn Arian,” said Carmyn. “They are the primary reason our City has not been discovered from the north. They guard all the lands near Fómor with jealousy, and most northerners will not take roads that pass through them, preferring instead to send their trade routes far to the east. Hence, they are diverted from the path we are taking now.”
“Why have the Corsairs not taken that path, and invaded Dûn Arian themselves?” asked Nelwyn. “If I am not mistaken, they love to plunder...how can they resist?”
Carmyn smiled. “Because they detest going overland. They are mariners, and Dûn Arian cannot be gained from the sea. Corsairs are never far from the water, although they will patrol their own realm and guard it. The River Dessa will be especially hazardous. With luck, we will be able to cross it without incident.” She laughed and shook her head. “A good thing Corsairs adore their comforts and will not undertake difficult journeys overland. Yet even if they should wish it, I doubt they would find Dûn Arian, and even if they did, there would not be enough of them to storm the walls. Yet they have prevented others from doing so, and in my mind they are therefore quite convenient.”
Fima nodded. This made a great deal of sense to him.
On the third evening of their encampment, Rogond noticed Gaelen standing alone atop a nearby prominence of stone, her face turned southward, her frame tense as though she sensed an approaching threat. He moved to stand beside her, climbing the steep way with some difficulty. “What troubles you, Gaelen? You have not been disquieted since we left the Silver Fortress. Why, now, have you become wary?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Because the wind is in the south tonight,” she replied. “Gorgon is coming.”
“Are you certain?” asked Rogond, who knew better than to ask such a question of her. Of course she was certain.
“He has been following us for some time, yet only now have I been made certain,” she said. “He has been tracking us, guarding his thoughts and remaining out of the range of my ability to scent him. It makes sense, I suppose. Now what shall I do? I have vowed never to lead him into Elven lands again, yet that is exactly where we’re going.”
“If Nelwyn’s insight is true, then Gorgon will be the least of our concerns,” said Rogond. “And not even Gorgon could gain entry into Tal-sithian, remember?”
“Small comfort for the dozens of Elves he killed near to it,” Gaelen replied, her voice bitter and full of guilt.
“Gaelen, he had an army to aid him. Now he is alone, and we are still a long way from any Elven lands. It’s possible that he won’t even survive to reach them. The only Elf I fear for in all of this is you.”
“Not without justification, for it is his great desire to kill me. Yet I sense that he will not do so until another time. I don’t know why…he wants to track us, but not to encounter us. Do you take my meaning?”
Rogond nodded. “Then your reassurances will have to suffice, but I shall watch over you, just in case,” he said. Then he sat beside her as she crouched down upon the stone like a cat ready to pounce, never taking her eyes from the lands to the south, where even now Gorgon Elfhunter was drawing near to the Company at last.
Réalta’s injury had delayed the Company long enough to allow Gorgon to close the gap between himself and the mounted Company. Now Réalta had had one more day to heal, for the Company would break camp at sunset, ready or not. Galador stroked his legs and spoke encouraging yet desperate words. “You must put all your efforts into healing yourself. I cannot stop the Company from leaving, and I would not, for I must choose Nelwyn and my friends over you. Please do not force that choice upon me. There, now, are you not much improved?”
In truth, Réalta was much improved, but he had not taken more steps than absolutely necessary in the past two days. “You must at least be able to keep up with us. Otherwise I shall be forced to…to make certain that pain and thirst do not find you.”
Galador had difficulty eve
n thinking such thoughts, yet he knew that, should Réalta be too lame to stay with the Company, there would be no choice but to see that his friend was laid to rest. He remembered Gaelen and her insistence upon doing the same for Finan, knowing that he would share in her anguish. Réalta would never survive alone.
“Take heart, beloved,” said Nelwyn approaching Galador from behind. She caressed his shoulders, feeling the tension in them. “Réalta has responded well to our healing efforts…do not think such black thoughts until you must.”
“Rogond said that the decision would be yours to make, as leader of the Company,” said Galador. “Could you leave Réalta behind?”
“I will not need to make that decision, for I overheard my beloved just now, and he knows what must be done,” said Nelwyn. “I also believe that his sacrifice will not be required. Take heart!” She embraced Galador, allowing her hopeful energy to recharge his spirits. Réalta would be all right—he had to be.
Chapter 12
FRIENDS AND SHADOWS
The first day was encouraging. Réalta moved with less pain in the sandy soil, though he was still lame, nodding his head a little with each step. Galador’s spirits lifted, as it seemed that Réalta would be able to keep up with the Company so long as they did not set too fast a pace.
Azori clucked and shook his head, for the sand was taxing and risked all the animals. “The going was much easier on the rocks,” he said. “Now our animals are weary, and they consume more water than they would otherwise. We have one more horse and one more person to provide for. This course is not a sensible one. I know Galador cares for Réalta, but he is only a horse, after all. There are other horses. Besides, he is lame even now, and he will only get worse. A bruised foot will not improve with treading upon it, even in sand. If he steps hard on one stone, he’s finished.”
“Perhaps Azori is right,” said Galador. “I do not wish to imperil the Company. If you will permit me, I will lag behind with Réalta, and catch you at the next oasis. I need less water than Azori. That way, you can make better time.”