by C S Marks
“True enough,” said Arialde. “Please forgive my indiscretion—I did not intend to invade your privacy. I know that you are filled with doubt concerning Nelwyn’s most recent insight. Please enlighten me, for I would hear your words ere I consult with Lord Shandor.”
Gaelen wrestled with herself, as she had done a hundred times already. What if my beliefs are wrong, and Arialde acts on them? Perhaps I should not interfere with the opinions of those whose thoughts are deeper and wiser, and hope that the truth can be made known. I don’t wish to set myself against Nelwyn…but it was Lord Kotos, not Nelwyn, who set this deception into place—I know it! I discovered the amulet. I alone looked into the eyes of Lord Kotos unguarded.
“My Lady, I will tell you my concerns, for they are grave. If I’m right, everything that Nelwyn has foreseen is a lie, and we are all in the grip of a dark deception. If I’m wrong, then I hope you can set me back on the right path. All is not as it seems.”
“Enlighten me so that I may consider wisely, Gaelen Taldin,” said Arialde. They did not emerge from the Courtyard until the breaking of dawn.
Chapter 17
THE DARKENING OF THE STONE
Mountain-home was a wondrous place in the springtime. The surrounding peaks were still covered with snow, and storms raged upon their summits and in the lands outside, but within the realm all was gentle and moderate. There were rains, yes, and even the occasional chilly wind that blew down from the western slopes, but the sun shone for part of every day. The sky was as blue as in late autumn. Green, growing things abounded, and in this time of flowering the air was heavy with scent. The melting snows had swelled the Amari streams and the River Artan—the sound of crashing waters stirred the heart of Lord Shandor as he stood upon a pinnacle of rock in the early morning. He loved the sound of rushing waters almost as much as he loved the wild winds.
Shandor, perhaps the mightiest Asarla ever to grace the lands of Alterra, was both wild and wise. His long hair was of spun silver, and his eyes—a clear, icy blue that could pierce the heart of any who looked into their depths—belied an innate compassion. He had ruled Mountain-home for many a year. All good-hearted folk loved him, though he was such an awe-inspiring presence that they could not help but be afraid of him at the same time. Therefore, Shandor was often alone.
He did not wish to be alone upon this day, so he sent forth his thoughts in a gentle call to his beloved. Liathwyn of the Èolar, one of the most beautiful maidens to ever hold the Light of Aontar in her dark blue eyes, had walked in Alterra for years uncountable. Her hair was as dark as the midnight sky. She cared not for weapons or warfare, but delighted most in growing things, seeking always to surround herself with them. An unrivaled singer and accomplished artisan in her own right, she fashioned the silken banner that would be carried first by her brother, Ri-Aldamar, and later by his son, Ri-Elathan. The battle-torn remnant would finally come to rest upon the breast of Rogond Thaylon.
Now she answered from the green glade that was her favorite resting place, calling out to Shandor and inviting him to come and join her there. She knew he preferred high places, for he was at heart as untamed as they, as rugged and beautiful as the dark grey mountain-peaks and as formidable as the foaming, crashing waters of the Artan. Yet gentle Liathwyn was more content in quiet, shady places where she could hear the singing of the birds. She loved warmth and soft, green light. Therefore, to please her, Shandor descended from his stony perch and made his way down to the glade, for the reward of her company was his greatest desire. He was never contented without her. In Mountain-home there were endless happy days and uncounted peaceful and passionate nights with his beloved.
He found her sitting upon a carpet of thick, deep green moss surrounded by white birch, her bright face illuminated by a shaft of sunlight filtering down through the new green canopy. His passions rose at once, as they always did when he had been separated from her, and he moved to her side without a word, taking her in his powerful arms and holding her slender body to his breast. She responded in kind, whispering gentle, musical words in his ear, grasping his well-muscled back with both hands.
Shandor rejoiced, for it had been many days since they had shared their love. He kissed her as gently as he could, though there was an urgency about him that could not be denied, as he prepared to lay her down upon the green floor of the glade. Yet, even as he did so, the voice of Arialde, his sister, came unbidden to his mind. It called to him—summoned him.
“No,” he whispered, “I will not listen.” Yet he had heard, and having heard, he could not linger.
Liathwyn would not hear the voice of Arialde, yet she grew pale and misty in Shandor’s embrace, causing him to cry out in frustration as she faded from his awareness, so that all that remained to him were the lonely, shadowed corridors within the Stone of Léir.
Arialde stood alone in the Courtyard. Dawn brought the return of the sun and the singing of birds, but Arialde did not take notice of them as she lifted the indigo cloth that both shielded and quieted the Stone, revealing the beautiful crystal to her expectant eyes. She sent her thoughts deep within it, for she knew that the spirit of Lord Shandor dwelt there. Shandor…beloved brother, I seek enlightenment that only you can give. I beseech you, my brother, come to me now so that truth may be revealed.
At first there was no flicker of light within the Stone, no indication that Shandor had heard her summons. She tried again, knowing that sometimes her brother was reluctant to show himself. She hoped that she would find him in a cooperative frame of mind, as he sometimes became sullen, even wrathful, when disturbed. Arialde drew a deep breath and shook her head, her own silvery hair waving in a nonexistent breeze. She drew from her own power, flaring gently golden, enfolding the stone in her own warm light. Shandor had never been able to resist her for long, and in a few more moments she was rewarded.
I am here, Sister Asarla. What do you want of me? Shandor’s voice could be heard inside Arialde’s mind, and she felt a pang of longing as she did every time she spoke with him, for she loved her brother and grieved for him.
“Some most disturbing news has been brought to my ears, she replied. I seek enlightenment and insight that is only given to you. The doom I fear concerns your fate, and that of the Seeing Stone. Tell me of your own future, so that I may know what course should be taken. Do this, my brother, for the sake of the Light.”
Arialde longed to tell Shandor of Nelwyn’s vision, and of Gaelen’s belief in the involvement of Lord Kotos, but she did not lest she prejudice her brother’s insights. Shandor appeared within the Stone then, as a glowing being inside a swirling cloud of mist. To her dismay, she saw reluctance, even fear, in his eyes.
And why should I consult my own future? Never have you asked this of me, and never have I done so—it is probably the thing I least desire to see. What has moved you to consider my fate? The Stone is quite safe under your protection, is it not?
“Ask me not for enlightenment when it is your task to provide it,” said Arialde. “Only know that this insight is of the greatest importance to the future of all beings of Light, and give the task your full attention. I cannot enlighten you further, my brother. I can only ask again…consult the Stone and reveal your future fate.”
I do not wish to look into my own future, was the reply. Enlighten me first, that I may decide the wisdom of it.
“There is no time for debate,” said Arialde, who was losing patience. “These matters are far too important to allow doubt and dread to interfere. With insight, I can protect you. Without it, I will not know what path to take. Aid me now, that I may safeguard you.”
Very well, then, said Shandor, his eyes darkening. But on your own head be the consequences. It is bad enough that you would disturb my reverie, but now you will not even enlighten me ere I set upon this path…a path that is no doubt fearsome, or you would not be asking!”
Arialde reflected for a moment, knowing that she was asking much of him. If I had the power to command insight into the fut
ure, would I wish to learn of my own fate? Almost certainly not. Still, I must convince him.
“It was once said that the courage of Lord Shandor would never falter. Is that no longer true? Has thy grief stolen the strength of thy heart?”
There will be no grief for me…not ever again, said Shandor, though Arialde knew he was less than convinced. When Liathwyn had left him forever, he had been so disheartened that his bereavement had nearly destroyed him. He would not easily bear the thought of such dark despair.
“Then aid me in preserving the Stone,” she said. ‘Without your aid, it may fall into Darkness. Lord Wrothgar will enslave you, and all will be lost. Is that what you desire? Would you become an instrument of destruction…a tool of evil? I would imagine even the memory of Liathwyn would not long remain if that should come to pass. You will see only what the Shadowmancer wants you to see.” She realized, in a fleeting, sorrowful moment, that she could no longer trust him as she once had. Liathwyn was safe in Elysia, and Shandor knew it. There was little else in Alterra that he cared about.
He was silent for a moment, and then the mists swirled about him as he vanished from her sight. I will consider it, he said, and the Stone went silent.
A thousand silvery planes revealed an infinite number of images to Shandor’s awareness. He had only to consult them. He stood now before the mirror-like wall concealing the insight he most dreaded…that of his own eventual doom. He feared this insight more than any other, as would anyone, and yet he knew that Arialde was right. If there was any doubt as to the continuation of things as they were, he needed to be made aware of it, as his only happiness was found within the Stone. He hesitated for only a moment longer, reached out with a tentative hand, and touched the silver surface, causing a ripple in the silken fabric of time. The images of two fates, both no doubt dire and grim, began to form, and Shandor’s heart filled with fear.
Unlike those who gain insight from me, I cannot act to prevent my own downfall, and I cannot be assured that others would choose the path I would ordain. I can advise, and plead, and implore, and even demand, but I cannot act…
He watched helplessly as two courses of fate began to unfold before him. He could not live with the knowledge of either of them, and he turned aside, crying aloud with frustration and grief for his failing heart. He told himself that if he did not know of these things, they would not happen. Nothing must ever come between him and his beloved.
As Arialde waited patiently for Shandor to reappear, she suddenly gasped and placed her right hand over her breast. Her vision clouded for a moment, and she swayed on her feet, yet she did not fall. As her vision cleared, she heard Shandor’s cry, just before the Stone went utterly dark. She had never seen it look as it did then, lifeless and dull as a piece of glass. There was no light within—no spirit in evidence. Shandor had gone deep, and Arialde knew that not only would she receive no insight from him, but she might never behold his face again. I have asked too much of him. She sank down upon the stone floor of the Courtyard, swallowing hard and staring into the empty air, forlorn and hopeless. This was not the ending she had foreseen.
“My lady…?”
The deep, soft voice of Lord Airan came to Arialde as she sat alone, lost in contemplation. She had only just become aware of him, though he had been calling to her for some time.
“My lady, please take away the veil from your heart, that I may join and comfort you. The people are disquieted…Arialde? Beloved?”
Arialde realized that the Courtyard was still surrounded by impenetrable mist. It was as if Airan spoke to her through a locked door. She would have to admit him, for she could not brood alone upon matters of such importance. Airan, a very perceptive soul, would no doubt aid her in deciding what must be done. She lifted her hands to the sky, and the mists cleared, allowing her to view the myriad of worried faces peering into the Courtyard.
The Elves of Tal-sithian were very sensitive to disturbances involving the Lady. By now, rumor and speculation had spread throughout the realm. As with any rumors, the amount of truth varied according to the speaker, but even the Guardians had felt Arialde’s disquiet. They clustered now in the waters closest to the Lady; huge, dark masses cruising quietly beneath the surface, awaiting orders.
Arialde emerged as Airan entered, and they embraced for a moment. Airan felt the tension and dismay that pervaded Arialde as he held her. He looked over at the Stone in dismay. “What happened? The Stone is dark and…and without life! Small wonder you are disquieted. Beloved?”
Arialde closed her eyes and collected herself, then pulled back so that she could meet his gaze. “I will not explain here, not now. Forgive me…I must master my own thoughts first. We must counsel at once with the Company, for although I hoped the Stone would bring insight, it has not aided me in deciding what is to be done. Please summon the Company. I will join you when I am ready.”
Airan embraced her again, glancing apprehensively at the cold, dark Stone. “I will do as you ask. I will also speak with the people and try to quell their fears.”
Arialde smiled gratefully at him, this very charming, sincere, helpful presence in her life. They had founded Tal-sithian together, and it had drawn many of the lost people of Eádros to its shores, as well as a few of the remaining Èolar. Airan had aided her greatly in safeguarding not only the realm, but her own heart.
After he had gone, her thoughts turned somber. “How will I feel when I am sundered from him for Eternity?” she whispered. “I suppose that one day I will find out, and then, like Shandor, I will face the consequences of having given my heart to an Elf.”
The Company was summoned and assembled, all save Gaelen and Nelwyn, neither of whom could be found. Rogond and Galador offered to look for them, and discovered them at last—not an easy task, as they had gone into seclusion. Gaelen was disquieted, for Nelwyn still would not look her in the eye. Both were fearful of the revelations to come.
The council-chamber grew dark as tall, grey clouds formed over the island, reflecting Arialde’s mood as she entered and stood before the Company. She lit no lamps or candles, but asked that her guests sit themselves down, as they would remain until matters were decided.
“This darkened chamber reflects the darkness of our business this day. We must consider all that has been put before us. Nelwyn’s vision, Gaelen’s insight, and the despair of Lord Shandor…all must be considered and the truth revealed. We must decide our future course, and no one must ever know what is said here. There will be no intrusion.” She raised both hands, and a brilliant light flared forth from her as a mighty thunderclap startled everyone present. Outside, the people felt Arialde’s warning, and they backed away from the green hill, shielding their eyes as a cold, hard rain began to fall. The Guardians broke the surface, booming with voices so deep that they were felt rather than heard. No Elf of Tal-sithian would approach the hill until summoned.
“Everyone here has been privy to Nelwyn’s terrible foresight,” said Arialde. “Yet Gaelen has shared thoughts with me that cast a great deal of doubt. She believes that the vision held by Nelwyn was placed there by none other than Trachair, the Deceiver, who was once called Kotos the Powerful.” She looked over at Nelwyn, who wore an expression of shock and disbelief on her pale face. “I’m sorry, Nelwyn, but I believe that Gaelen is right. There have been too many inexplicable events to think otherwise. Gaelen also believes that Lord Kotos travels within the person of your enemy, Gorgon Elfhunter. Are there any among you who have already been privy to this insight?”
“I have,” said Fima rising to his feet. “I became aware of it as we were traveling. When we arrived in Dûn Bennas, we learned enough to confirm Gaelen’s fears.” He looked over at Nelwyn, and there was regret in his blue eyes. “Both Gaelen and I thought it best to wait and reveal the truth here, in Tal-sithian, where your heart could be safeguarded and healed. Please understand that it was very difficult to keep this from you.”
Nelwyn’s hand flew to her throat, and she appeared to be
having some difficulty breathing. The impact of what had just been uncovered was only now beginning to be made real. The Right Hand of Wrothgar…the most powerful servant of Darkness…he who brought down Tal-elathas and killed Dardis and Baelta and Léiras…this being has beguiled and deceived me? He invaded my very thoughts and manipulated them? How could I have allowed it? I would not have!
“You are wrong!” she shouted in a voice utterly bereft of hope. Though she denied it, she knew that it was so…yet it could not be so! “No, no, no!”
She began to wail—horrified, devastated—but nothing could undo what had been done. If this terrible thing was true, she had been chosen to be the instrument of Evil, and the Light would be quenched because of it. How could she not have known?
Galador leaped to her aid and was now holding her in his arms, though she tried to push him away at first. “How could she not tell me? How could she betray me so?” Nelwyn moaned, referring to Gaelen, who felt as though a blade had been thrust into her own heart.
“Hush, beloved,” whispered Galador. “Gaelen could not tell you until she was certain. She only became certain in Dûn Bennas. It was sensible of her to wait for the protection of the Lady. In Tal-sithian the knowledge is safe, and you are safe. This is not Gaelen’s fault, nor is it yours. Kotos has deceived the most powerful spirits in Alterra, and you were easy prey.” He looked up at Arialde, his face grey with worry. “Is that not so, my lady?”
“It is so,” said Arialde. “Of all in the Company, Nelwyn and Rogond are most pure of heart. Men are not given to premonition, therefore Rogond would not have been chosen. Kotos beguiled Nelwyn because she had no darkness in her heart to warn of him. Now that the truth has been revealed, we can avert the disaster Lord Wrothgar is hoping for.”