by C S Marks
“That is unwise,” said El-morah. “Although you might need less water, your animals do not. If they should perish, and you are left to struggle on foot, you will not survive to aid the Company. Only Azori, Estle, and I are equipped with the knowledge to withstand the desert alone. These lands may be gentler than others you have seen, but do not underestimate them.”
“How far is it to the next oasis?” said Nelwyn.
“If we could maintain the pace we set before, on stony ground, it’s only about six or seven days away by my reckoning,” said Azori. “Yet if we continue as we have been, it is more like a fortnight!”
“And how many days’ water supply remains?” asked Rogond, who was torn between an inherent practical nature and empathy for his friend Galador.
“Seven days will present little difficulty,” said Azori. “We might even make ten. But a fortnight is out of the question! We’ll be completely out of water in seven or eight days, and more than two days without water will be the death of us all.”
“You’re exaggerating,” said Gaelen. “We have not been as frugal as we might with our water supply. If we start now, we’ll survive.”
Azori and El-morah were not convinced. Azori, in fact, was incredulous. “You would risk our lives for the life of an animal? It would seem that the desert has not taught her lessons with sufficient severity. Fine, then, I know I’m out-voted. I suppose I’ll just continue on, and hope that Gaelen is right, and that I don’t end up as a pile of…of dried up dust with a few strips of cloth clinging to it.”
“Ah, Azori…do you not know that Gaelen is always right?” said Estle with a sardonic smile. “If you didn’t, you could always ask her.”
“Enough of this debate!” said Nelwyn in the most commanding tone she could manage. “While we sit here we stir up ill feelings and get no closer to our goal. If you truly want me to lead you, then I will. Here is my decision—I will not ask Galador to sacrifice Réalta until there is no other choice. Nor will I ask all in the Company to imperil themselves. All save the Elves will return to the easier path, taking enough water with them to ensure that they reach the oasis. Gaelen, Galador, and I will remain together with enough water for our horses and ourselves, which will be much less than the amount required by the rest of you. Then we will rejoin you at the oasis.”
“But you do not know the way,” said Carmyn, who was already fond of Nelwyn.
“No, but we will keep the map,” said Nelwyn. “Surely Azori, who has traveled these lands, will be able to find the oasis without it.”
“Don’t put such a burden on me,” growled Azori. “I have traveled the lands between Fómor and the north of Mumari, but have never approached this oasis directly from the south, as we are doing. I would prefer to not separate from the map, if it’s the same to you.”
“Nelwyn is leader of our Company, and I believe her plan to be quite sensible,” said Gaelen. “Yet now you would defy her. All along you have been stating that you knew these lands, and yet now you say you don’t? Which is it?” She shook her head. “Don’t worry…you will not need to separate from your map. Take Fima with you, and when you reach the oasis, he should draw forth Gorgon’s mirror. I will be able to find you.”
She looked over at Rogond, whose eyes were full of concern and doubt. “Have no fear. Gorgon will follow me, but he will not attempt to take me. Don’t ask me how I know it, but I do.”
“You know…I could solve this dilemma right now,” said Azori. “One well-placed arrow is all it would take.”
“Yes, one well-placed arrow,” replied Galador, glowering at Azori.
“We are talking about the horse, aren’t we?” said Hallagond.
“This is not about a horse,” said Gaelen. “It’s about friendship and loyalty.”
“So it is,” said Nelwyn. “And now, although I lead you, I do not command you. We should vote on it. Who is in favor of destroying Réalta and returning to our prior course?”
The only hand that went up was Azori’s.
“Elves,” he muttered. “No wonder they do not thrive in the southlands. Have it your own way, then.”
“What are you grumbling about? You still have your map,” said Gaelen. “And I, for one, appreciate your efforts in safeguarding the Company. I know you have been looking out for our interests.”
“I look out for my own interests. If not for my sister I would never have started on this path, but would be back in the Silver City right now, lounging about in the fine weather, eating and drinking as much as I liked. Don’t talk to me about best interests.”
Lord Kotos, who dwelled within the person of Fima Lore-master, listened to this exchange with interest. When it ended, his thoughts were conflicted. On the one hand, certain notions concerning the vulnerability of the Company had been reinforced. It would be very simple to influence them—one would need only to appeal to their foolish, unshakable fidelity. On the other hand, he was now concerned about the wisdom of separating himself from Gorgon, who would undoubtedly follow Gaelen and not Fima. Kotos hoped that he had put enough dread into Gorgon’s heart to prevent his straying from the appointed path. Yet it was a relief that Fima would be gaining the oasis sooner rather than later, for it would not do at all for the Company to risk death. They were willing to place the entire quest in jeopardy for the sake of a horse. A horse!
Kotos disliked horses, for they were highly sensitive to the presence of evil—in fact, they would not suffer his presence. Toran’s reaction to Orrion outside the Citadel was not just in response to Gorgon.
Wrothgar’s forces had more fearsome and sinister steeds at their service. Ulcan commanders might rally their forces perched upon the broad, muscular backs of huge, stiff-bristled boars, specially bred for the purpose. These intelligent and ferocious creatures were formidable dark warriors themselves, and they loved to feast upon the flesh of the vanquished. Their independence had not been entirely bred out of them, and it sometimes asserted itself at inconvenient moments. Sometimes battles were begun before the commanders were ready, merely because their animals were impatient. Usually the Ulcas survived their mounts’ impertinence, but sometimes they did not. The idea of partnership with and affection for one’s riding-animal was as alien to Kotos as it was to Gorgon.
Once Fima reached the oasis, Kotos had already resolved to leave him. There were always birds at water sources, including ravens and crows. Kotos would use one of them to rejoin Gorgon as soon as could be managed. Being carried about helplessly was taxing to his nature, and he looked forward to reestablishing his rather one-sided partnership with the Elfhunter. He was not concerned for the well-being of the Elves; they would find their way to the oasis. Kotos held a great deal of faith in them, for although their foolish affection for Réalta was ill-advised, they were aware of their capabilities, and they were not stupid. Kotos was also quite pleased to have discovered the whereabouts of Gorgon’s mirror. Apparently, the Wood-elf could follow it like a beacon. Perhaps one day he would put that to good use.
Gorgon first became aware of the Company’s course when he caught their sign in the wind. Like Gaelen, he was acutely aware of the stories that scent could tell, questing with his wide, flat, mutilated remnant of a nose. The scent of men and Elves no longer intermingled— he caught either one or the other depending upon the wind, and it puzzled him. So, they have separated, then? To what end?
If Gorgon followed Lord Kotos, as he had been instructed, he would need to divert from Gaelen’s path. Fima was not with her…the dwarf-scent still mingled with that of men. Yet Gorgon would not lose the trail of the Vixen. He would keep close behind her like a vile, malignant shadow. He hunkered down in the shade, considering his alternatives. Is this a test? Has Kotos conjured up this situation so that I can prove my reliability? If so, it is both diabolical and unfair. How can he ask me to divert from the trail of the one soul in Alterra whose demise I most desire?
Without warning, Gelmyr’s much-despised image appeared in Gorgon’s mind, laughing and t
aunting as usual. Gorgon blinked, rubbing his eyes in a vain effort to dispel it.
Well, Dark Disaster! We ARE in quite a state, said Gelmyr, his ill-natured, perfect smile gleaming forth from rotting blue lips. Then he appeared to ponder for a moment. Yes-s-s-s…it would seem that Master Kotos has placed a choice before you. If I were you, I would remember his words to you concerning the Shadowmancer. You’d better leave the trail of Gaelen Taldin, and do as you have been told, you sniveling, indecisive lap-dog!
Gorgon tried to contain his rage, for it would please Gelmyr to goad him into fury. “Be quiet, you hideous Elven nightmare! I decide my course as I see fit…do you not know it? I always have done.”
Oh, most certainly! said Gelmyr. Let us recount recent events, then, shall we? Which of your recent actions have been decided by Lord Kotos? Hmmm…let’s consider that carefully…could it be all of them? Face the truth! You haven’t held an independent thought or made an unaided decision in months. Every step you have taken has been pre-ordained by Lord Kotos the Deceiver! I would laugh at you…if you were not so utterly pathetic. Even I cannot find humor in that. Well, not much humor, anyway. Ha!
Gorgon’s face grew darker as he replied. “You had better just be quiet, or you will succeed in goading me into disobedience—then I will not be the only one facing the Black Flame! You have no life of your own; your sole purpose seems to be in tormenting me. If I fall to Wrothgar, you will fall with me…try to deny it!”
Alas, I cannot, said Gelmyr. For you are right. But I care not for you or for your life…I am only the voice of your fears and doubts. Did you not know it? When you die, I will die with you, but with any luck we will remain together for Eternity. You will most certainly have enough fear and doubt to sustain me in the hereafter, rest assured of that! Prove me wrong, Elfhunter. Ha!
These words were well chosen, as Gorgon truly was afraid of what awaited him upon his death. His fate was most uncertain, and would be known to no one, save perhaps for Lord Wrothgar. Yet the Shadowmancer had never shared such insight with Gorgon, preferring instead to infuse him with the notion that he would live forever, or at least until the last of the Elves had fallen. Recent events had convinced Gorgon that this might not be so. Now he grew sullen and silent, as Gelmyr’s accursed laughter filled his mind with images so terrible that he could not continue to harbor them lest he go mad. He would have to follow Lord Kotos, or take the risk of having those images become his future. Yet he could not release Gaelen again…he could not!
Listen to me, Elfhunter, said Gelmyr. I will now say the only words I ever intend to say that will be of benefit to you. You found her before, and you will find her again. She cannot escape you, and you both know it. He shook his head, his long, matted hair waving in a nonexistent breeze. I cannot believe I am actually giving you counsel. It would seem that even I am uncertain as to whether I will be allowed to torment you after your death, and I would miss that pleasure very much indeed. Therefore, I will aid you now. He reached up and scratched his head as if confused by his own action, dislodging a chunk of his scalp as he did so. Ah, well…and so it goes, he said. Now, shall we pick up the trail of the dwarf, you and I? The Elves will not long remain separated from their friends. You know it…take heart! As he said these words, he faded from Gorgon’s vision. Gorgon would rest for a while longer, and then he would rise as darkness fell.
Several days had passed since the Company had divided. Azori and Hallagond led their mortal companions well, leaving the deep sand for firmer ground on which they could make better time. The dromadin had also been divided, and the one that traveled now with Azori’s group was bellowing in disgust. Dromadin prefer deep sand to rocky footing; their large, flat feet are well suited to it. The pace was not unduly swift, but it was brisk enough to ensure that the dromadan extended its stride. It was not a real hardship, as dromadin are swifter than horses when there is need. Yet Fima was grateful to be astride Eros, and not rocking to and fro on a long-striding dromadan. It was the intention to make at least twenty miles between one sunrise and the next; hence all the animals would need to trot for much of the time.
The Elves made their way with slow and deliberate steps toward the oasis, keeping a course as near to the north as they could determine. In addition to the dromadan, their horses numbered four. Nelwyn rode as ever upon Gryffa, but Toran was now ridden by Galador. Gaelen actually rode Faladinn, the little brown pack horse, for he required less water and was more efficient than the others. Though Faladinn did not usually care to be ridden, he bore Gaelen willingly, as he had done so before.
Though he was still lame, Réalta resented Toran more than ever. He was even upset with Galador..
He should not choose to ride that upstart! Were there no other horses available? Why did He choose to ride the one other horse in the Company that was tall, silver-grey, and swift? Perhaps he will even consider Toran to be a replacement! What if I am never sound again? What if I can no longer bear him or, even worse, what if he decides that…that the young one is swifter, stronger, and more beautiful?
Réalta’s tail switched from side to side in agitation as he considered that unpleasant prospect. He limped along, trying to ignore the ever-increasing pain in his foot, wishing that he had Eros’ good humor to lift his spirits.
Toran sensed Réalta’s discomfort and ambled over one bright morning as the Elves made ready to rest during the heat of the day. This proved to be an error in judgment, as Réalta took a substantial piece of Toran’s hide with his teeth.
Get away from me, you worthless upstart! It’s bad enough you take advantage of my injury, and usurp my place, but now you come to gloat about it and disturb my rest? Away with you!
Toran squealed in pain and backed away, shaking his silver forelock and blinking. He had meant no harm. Gryffa and Faladinn, who had come to know Réalta well, were taken aback by this uncharacteristic display.
Faladinn snorted. This is worse than I thought!
Gryffa nodded once in agreement. Yes…that young fellow had best keep his distance. He means well, but he does not understand that Réalta is not to be trifled with right now. There will be a reckoning between them one of these days if nothing intervenes. That will be most unpleasant…though it should be interesting.
Well, Sir High-and-Mighty Elf-mount had best concentrate on healing his accursed bruised foot, said Faladinn, or he might find out that there are far more unpleasant things than younger, prettier rivals in this world.
Ha! Everyone is prettier than you are, so you’d never need worry about it, said Gryffa, chortling at Faladinn.
I don’t know…I’ve always considered myself rather handsome, said Faladinn. But you’re right; being the most beautiful is a thing I have never given much effort or thought to. I have more important matters to occupy me, fortunately. So saying, he wandered into the shade, circled once, and sank down upon the sand. Though he did not stretch out flat on his side, for to do so risked sand in his ear or his eye, he was soon fast asleep. Resting and sleeping were very important matters to a practical animal like Faladinn.
Gaelen spent time currying Toran and Réalta before going up to the watch. She removed the wrap from Réalta’s foot, pressing down upon the heel with her strong hands, noting his reaction with dismay. He was even more sensitive than yesterday. She sighed and shook her head, brushing the hair from her eyes. After wrapping the foot again, she stood up tall, shaking the sand from her hands before turning to regard Galador’s sad eyes upon her. He knew the truth. Unless something miraculous happened, and soon, Galador would face the choice he had hoped never to make.
The dromadan and the horses lay together in the shade, all except Réalta, who stood off by himself. “He is even on three legs now,” said Nelwyn with dismay. She sat beside Gaelen, who was brooding over what to do about Réalta, though she was supposed to be keeping the watch. “Did you hear me, Gaelen? He won’t even place his one foot down.”
“Yes, I heard you. And I cannot fathom why he is getting so much
worse. He is not healing, not at all. The sand should have made the going easier for his bruised foot, yet he is worse. I don’t understand.”
“Sand is actually not soft, as most believe,” said Nelwyn. “It’s quite hard, in fact.”
Gaelen sighed. “I know that, but because it shifts it makes for equal pressure in all parts of the foot. Hence it should not aggravate a bruise the way rocky going will.”
“If only we had a larger water supply, we could afford to wait,” said Nelwyn. “As it is, I fear we must move on very soon, and Réalta will not be able to keep up. You know what that will mean.”
“Yes, I know,” said Gaelen, who was frustrated with herself for failing to heal Réalta. “And where would you suggest we find a larger water supply?”
“Well…it rained once, in the dry desert, when we all sang together in grief for Elraen,” said Nelwyn in a quiet voice. “Do you suppose, if we tried again, it might…rain upon us again?”
“That suggestion has as much merit as any I can come up with,” said Gaelen, her voice bitter and disillusioned. “I’m willing to try.”
The three Elves stood in a circle upon the stones, casting their voices aloft in plaintive harmony. The song they sang would have brought tears to anyone hearing it, save perhaps for Gorgon Elfhunter. If a song could make the heavens weep, this one most certainly would have. Yet it appeared that the clouds were not listening this time, for they did not appear.
“It’s no use,” said Galador at last. “It was a fine idea, beloved, and well worth the effort in trying. Alas, it has failed. I must face the fact that Réalta will not be able to continue with us, and I must now see to his ending. I held faith that he would heal, but it seems my hopes will be denied this time. I will do what I must do.” He turned and went down to where his beautiful, trusting horse awaited him.