by C S Marks
“Your attempts to disgust me into releasing you are to no avail. I must eat, and you have let yourself be caught. Now be still.” He squeezed the vulture’s neck hard enough to break it, yet even in death it still flapped and struggled for several seconds. Finally, it stopped moving.
Gorgon laid it down and approached the amulet, but as he bent to collect it he hesitated. He was not certain he wanted to look into the eyes of the Deceiver. Despite the knowledge that his heart’s desire would not be achieved without aid, Gorgon had reveled in his independence over these past weeks. He was not certain that he wanted to share consciousness with Kotos again so soon.
Why do you hesitate, Elfhunter? Surely, you are not afraid? I have not harmed you despite uncounted opportunities, have I? Remember our bargain, proud Son of Evil. Lift the amulet now, and allow me to reward you beyond your wildest imagining. I can do many things, Gorgon, and I will not invade your consciousness without your leave. What is your will?
Gorgon knew what a promise from Kotos was worth. Still, his curiosity would once again rule him, as he now wanted to know what reward Kotos could give him that was beyond imagining. Kotos smiled as the thick, dark fingers grasped the amulet, for he had known it would be so. Look into the stone, Elfhunter, and share a pleasant memory. I was present at the Second Battle that led to the downfall of Tal-elathas and the virtual extinction of the Èolar. Do you not wish that you had seen it for yourself?
“Oh….what I would not give to have stood in the forefront of that Dark Army,” said Gorgon, his eyes misting over at the thought of it.
Then this you shall do, at least in your memory. Clear your mind and receive your gift. Kotos then shared the most exquisitely detailed memory of the Fall of Tal-elathas, for he had led the charge against the High King. Gorgon saw Dardis murdered by Kotos’ hand, his neck snapped, an expression of horrified betrayal in his beautiful grey eyes. He watched as the Elves fell before the Bödvari, watched them writhe and scream as they were set upon, seeing the abject terror behind their wide eyes as they were engulfed in avenging flame.
Ri-Aldamar, withered in a storm of dragon-fire, fell at last with his bright sword still clutched in his hand. Gorgon could almost smell the stench of the worm’s sulfurous breath. By the time the Great Realm fell at last, Gorgon was in a state of stunned ecstasy. He lay upon the sand with his eyes open, gazing toward the stars, but he did not see them. Kotos did not disturb him until sunrise, for he did not wish to interfere with Gorgon’s reliving every deliciously horrific moment, running through the memories over and over. For the moment, the partnership was secure.
The Elves finally appeared at daybreak as a ragged dark line on the horizon, to the relief of everyone. Eros caught Réalta’s scent on the east wind, untied himself from the picket line, and trotted out to meet his companion with his tail in the air. Rogond shook his head, swung onto Derrin’s broad, red back, and cantered out to his friends, two full water-skins slung over his strong shoulders. When he arrived he first embraced Gaelen before bowing to Nelwyn and Galador. “I see that you have gotten here just in time,” he said. “You are all looking careworn, my friends. Yet there is water, food, and rest aplenty at the oasis.” He looked up at Gaelen, who favored him with a warm, if dusty, smile.
“Yes, Thaylon. Thank you for lighting a fire each day; the smoke made you easy to find. We have arrived in time…all of us!” Gaelen looked over at Réalta, who was renewing his friendship with Eros, each scratching the base of the other’s neck with his teeth. She had kept the cactus-spine as a reminder that things are not always as they first appear, and to always look beyond the obvious in the future.
The dromadan bellowed at the distant oasis, for although it could not smell the water, it knew that water would be found there. “Let him go, Galador, he has earned it,” said Gaelen. Galador released the dromadan, who set off immediately in a direct line to the oasis.
The Elves may have looked careworn, but it was the change in Fima that drew the most attention upon that morning. He appeared to have aged many years overnight, and though his hair and beard would not turn entirely snow white again for quite some time, his face had fallen once more into the semblance of an old dwarf. The wrinkles and lines had reappeared, as had the stiffness of movement and slump of his shoulders. Fima’s eyes were bright and happy as he greeted his friends, yet if one cared to look deep enough, the pain and weariness had returned.
The Elves looked at one another in concern; it seemed that the desert truly did not agree with Fima. They did not yet realize that this change had come on him overnight. When Kotos left Fima, so did the vigor he had imparted.
Rogond spoke to his friend in a quiet voice. “Did you have a difficult night, Lore-master?”
Fima shrugged. “I did not think so at the time, yet this morning I seem to be a bit stiff. Perhaps I was engaged in energetic dreams, but do not recall them.” He smiled at Rogond and winked.
“Well, if that is the explanation, I hope you eventually recall them,” said Rogond. “On second thought…I might not want to know, if I were you.”
Fima chuckled. “Ah, Rogond, those are the words of a man whose dreams are simple ones. Yours are embodied in the person of one Wood-elf. Go now and tend to her. I’m just fine, thank you. I will be even better after breakfast.”
The Elves settled in for a few days of recovery, replenishing their bodies and their spirits. Réalta’s foot was still in need of padding, but since the cactus-spine had been withdrawn he was not noticeably lame so long as he kept off the rocks. Now that water was available, Gaelen and Galador could wrap the foot each day with a poultice to draw the soreness from it.
Toran’s tendency to mischief reasserted itself with rest, and soon he was wandering here and there getting into things. It seemed he had learned to untie himself by observing Eros. It was not unlikely that he would be found standing in someone’s tent during the heat of the day, a fact that would not have been so upsetting had he been of a tidy nature. Since he was not, he would be driven forth, often chased by various objects that had been thrown at him. At such times, Gaelen was thankful that she did not understand more of the sutherling speech.
The merchants prepared to depart, taking El-morah with them, even as the Company made ready to continue northward. Hallagond, Estle, and Azori were particularly saddened at his going, and they hoped he was not returning to the horrible destruction and death he had remembered. “What will you do, my friend, if your memories are true?” asked Azori.
“If my home and family have been destroyed, I will first set myself to the task of seeking those responsible,” said El-morah in a voice completely devoid of passion. “And then I will rejoin Mohani in the hereafter, either by an enemy hand, or by my own.”
He looked over at Azori and smiled a grim and humorless smile. “I will do what I must—no more and no less. Gaelen is right…I must return and be certain. I honestly do not know what I will find, but I hold hope in my heart. Don’t be concerned, but look to your own perils…they are far greater than the ones looming before me.” He said his farewells, mounted his horse, and rode out with the slow-moving caravan. Each soul in the Company was saddened, for El-morah was a good man and he would be missed.
After he had gone, Gaelen finished securing her belongings and then went to ask Fima if she could have some parchment, a quill, and some ink to write with. She sat beside the small fire and recorded every coincidence, every strange happening, and every misgiving she had ever held concerning Orrion. It turned out to be a very long list. Gaelen enjoyed drawing pictures, and for a moment she considered rendering an unflattering caricature of Orrion at the bottom of the piece of parchment. In the end, she decided otherwise, for she would need to recall his image, and she had no desire to do that. In fact, it would not have displeased Gaelen if she never looked upon Orrion again.
Chapter 13
THE COMPANY IS WAYLAID
“So, why are we traveling in a line directly north? Why do we not follow El-morah across to
the Chupa, and then go back through the Sandstone to Dûn Bennas? It seems so much safer,” said Carmyn.
“You do not know our history,” said Rogond. “We dare not go anywhere near the Sandstone settlement. We have been marked for death by the Ballali, and they will not have forgotten so soon. Hallagond has assured me that they will have placed a heavy price on all our heads by now.”
“Ballali? Aren’t they a sort of faith-cult? I thought they were basically peaceful,” said Carmyn.
Gaelen raised one eyebrow, and then her eyes went hard. “That has not been our experience with them. Because of their desire to control others, one of our Company was lost. If I never lay eyes on one of them again, it will be too soon.”
“You will see worse things, I fear,” said Azori. “There are settlements all up and down the river that feeds into the sea at Fómor. And the only wells and oases near to it are controlled by Fómorian Corsairs. We will be passing through their lands no matter what.”
“Tell us, Azori…what might we expect in those lands?” asked Nelwyn, who had heard nothing good about Corsairs.
Azori then proceeded to inform the Company, telling what he would of these intriguing but dangerous folk. Corsairs were the most skilled of mariners, save perhaps for the lost northmen from whom they were descended. Originally a group of outcasts from Tuathas, they were now a blend of many cultures and races. They had one characteristic in common: greed. They lived for riches and worldly pleasures, and had a low opinion of anyone who worked for a living. In fact, such people existed that they might give up their hard-earned wealth for the enjoyment of the Corsairs, who would justify this attitude by saying that it was the right of the strong to take what they could from the weak.
They preferred to plunder coastal towns and waylay any ships they encountered. Depending on their mood at the time, they might leave the inhabitants alive and merely take their possessions, or they might take all things of value and then sink the ship with everyone aboard. They were both hated and feared by nearly everyone, yet they had made great explorations of the Alterran realms, and their courage at sea was legendary. They were said to possess the most detailed and accurate maps in existence. There was some speculation that they had discovered another land on the other side of the Great Ocean, yet there was no proof that the few who claimed to have returned from it had actually done so. Because the consumption of liquor and other intoxicating substances figured highly on their list of worldly pleasures, one could never be certain of the truth of any words issuing from a Corsair. They loved to tell tall tales.
“We must avoid be taken by them,” said Azori. “If they are in a generous mood they will merely bind us and take us back to Fómor to be sold as slaves. I don’t wish to think of what might befall the women-folk.”
Nelwyn shivered. “I thought you were known to them…that they called you friend! Perhaps it would have been better to risk the Ballali. These folk sound as though they will be the death of us.”
“Wonderful news,” muttered Galador. “Another culture full of upstanding Defenders of Light will soon be made known to my curious mind. I can hardly wait.”
“My brother exaggerates,” said Estle, scowling at Azori. “All Corsairs are not killers; there are quite a few traders among them. We might obtain safe passage with only the loss of some valuables.”
“What valuables?” asked Gaelen with a sardonic half-smile. “You mean valuables such as our horses or our weapons? We carry very little of value that we do not need.”
“Stop panicking and listen,” said Azori. “It is true that I have been to Fómor, and I have come out again alive. There are folk there who know of me. Yet it is unlikely that I will encounter them out here…better we should attempt to make the crossing unnoticed. If we are caught, I may be able to bargain for our release, but our goal will be to pass unseen. Once we are clear of the lands near the well or the river, we will be unopposed until we cross the Dessa. We might still find enemies there. Don’t worry…in these times, men are not so numerous.”
“I am most certainly in favor of passing unseen,” said Gaelen. “I am just now wondering how we will do so, mounted and leading two dromadin. We will need to stop for water like everyone else.”
“Well, that will be your job,” said Azori with a wicked grin. “You’re the hunter-scout, aren’t you?”
“Oh, am I?” asked Gaelen with an innocent expression.
“At any rate, should we encounter a formidable group, you all had better let me do the talking,” said Azori.
“Who has any intention of talking?” asked Gaelen. “I would prefer to demonstrate my skill at archery first, and then see if anyone feels like talking.”
“We must not do that,” said Hallagond. “The Corsairs have a code of conduct…a rather odd, twisted code to be sure, but they will not break it. They will not kill us until they learn of our intentions, and we must not do so, either. If we do, they will hunt us down and see to our deaths. Make certain your bows are idle until we know their intentions, won’t you?” He looked over at Nelwyn. “If we’re lucky, we will not encounter anyone beyond our ability.”
Despite Hallagond’s optimism, everyone in the Company slept with one eye open, even though they were still many days away from lands where they would need to worry about an encounter.
Now that Gorgon and Kotos had been reunited, there was no need to track the Company closely. Gorgon had discovered that Kotos was very adept at luring birds, preferably ravens, to pick up the shiny golden amulet. The moment they did, they were overtaken. Then Kotos could command them to fly forth, surveying the area and keeping watch over the Company while Gorgon trailed behind.
Once Gorgon gained the oasis he put the amulet on, the raven perching on his shoulder as he strode up to the water source unopposed. There was no one remaining to greet them, yet Kotos still flew in wide circles to make certain no travelers approached before he allowed Gorgon to resume his true appearance.
Rest for a while, and refresh yourself. It will be a long, dry march to the next oasis. Fill your vessels as full as you can manage. I will stay with the bird unless you will otherwise, or need is on us. Rest now, my impressive friend. Rest and remember.
Gorgon was only too happy to oblige. Food had been left behind, in the tradition of some desert folk, in case the next wanderers came to the oasis in dire need of it. It would then be their task to glean more to leave for those coming after. It was believed that if one took advantage of the hospitality of the desert, and did not return it, the desert would take her vengeance.
Gorgon did not fear any such consequences—he took all the food in the clay vessels that had been left. He made a small fire, for he had recently learned to relish hot meals on chilly nights. There was enough food to keep him for some time, as he required little sustenance.
Afterward, he lay on his back, listening to the wind stirring the leathery leaves of the fragrant spice-trees, and gazed at the incredible star-field that spread across the wide sky like a glittering, magical cloak. He could not remember such contentment since the death of Thorndil. This was, in fact, a different sort of feeling altogether. It sprang from being truly comfortable, secure in the knowledge that one’s needs are being looked after. Gorgon had rarely felt it with such depth.
“Thank you for the gift, my lord,” he muttered in a languid voice, referring to the memory of the fall of Tal-elathas that had been planted in his eager brain. Now he could re-live those horrific, delightful events whenever he wished to.
The raven fluffed its feathers and bowed. You are more than welcome.
After a while, Gorgon would set out again, but he was in no real hurry. He would not lose the Company, for their course was known to him. They, as with all travelers, were constrained to plot the most direct way between water-sources, and Kotos, looking through Fima’s eyes, had become very familiar with the map. Gorgon could afford to lag behind a little.
“Will you tell me another tale?” he asked the raven, who had by now become
quite tame whether Kotos was with it or not. It was intelligent enough to know a good provider when it saw one. It hopped down from the rock on which it had perched, stepping with calm dignity until it looked Gorgon directly in the eye. Then Lord Kotos flowed forth from it into his willing apprentice, that he might favor Gorgon with another wonderful story of hatred, betrayal, and death.
It was a pity that the northern wells had dried up, for if they had not, the Company might have avoided the river. As it was, they were forced to seek it as a source of water, and so they did, keeping ever alert for troublesome Fómorians. They encountered no one of consequence, and Azori almost seemed disappointed.
“Don’t worry, my brother,” said Estle. “Your descriptions of the Corsairs are very accurate. No one in the Company doubts them.”
“That’s for sure!” said Fima. “I, for one, am happy to put as much sand between myself and Fómor as possible.”
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as they headed northward from the riverbank. Carmyn had been taking as many readings as she could manage, as she was attempting to map the source of the river, which she learned was called the Salla-hin (mighty rain), though it was little more than a sluggish, narrow track of muddy water. “The name seems to be made from both sutherling and northern tongues. And not just northern, but Elven, if I’m not mistaken.”
“The Tuathar used Elven-speech as the basis for their own,” said Rogond. “Over the ages much has changed. Yet I studied the language of Tuathas in Mountain-home, and it was so similar to the speech of the Elàni that I had little difficulty.”
“But, you are of the northern race yourself,” said Carmyn. “Were you not taught the speech of your own folk?”
Rogond smiled and told Carmyn some of his history. Now that he knew more of it, the telling did not pain him as much. “I wish that I had been able to see Tuathas before it fell,” he said.