by C S Marks
“We will not just avert disaster…we can use this opportunity to destroy the Elfhunter, and perhaps even bring about the fall of the Deceiver,” said Gaelen. “So long as Gorgon and Kotos believe that we have been deceived, they will play right into our hands.” She turned to Nelwyn. “I know what you are feeling now,” she said, “for I have felt it myself. We have both been used as means to evil ends, and I you are only now beginning to realize the depth of this violation. You can take heart in the fact that no Elf has died with your assistance—I cannot say the same. The deceit has been unmasked before the evil end could be achieved. Take heart.”
Gaelen’s eyes filled with tears. “Do you think this has been easy?” she said. “I would rather die than hurt you, yet I did what I had to do. I did what I thought was best for all, and I will not apologize for it. When you have considered these matters further, I pray you will understand. I regret hurting you more than you can know, but if I had voiced my doubts when first I held them, you would not have believed me. And if Lord Kotos had gotten wind of it, we would not now have the chance to defeat him. Who knows what he might have done to ensure the success of his plan?”
“The chance to defeat Gorgon is what you truly refer to, Gaelen. Try to deny it! Once again, you have placed your own desires in the forefront,” said Nelwyn, who was not in a charitable state of mind.
At this, Fima could no longer keep silent. “It should be the desire of every Elf, nay, every true-hearted soul, to rid the world of the Elfhunter. Gaelen is not to blame for what has happened.”
“Do not chide her!” said Gaelen. “She is hurt and angry, and I don’t blame her. Yet now we cannot dwell on it, as we must re-group and decide upon a plan.” She turned to Nelwyn who, to her relief, looked directly into her eyes. “I hope you will forgive me, but if not, at least you can lend the benefit of your thoughts to our debate. After all, you have a most insightful and perceptive spirit.”
“Apparently not as perceptive as might have been,” said Nelwyn ruefully. “If I were all that perceptive, Evil would not have chosen me.”
Arialde had approached Nelwyn, and now placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Would you argue that the High King, Ri-Aldamar, was perceptive? That Léiras the Far-sighted and Baelta the Bright were perceptive? Would you deny their wisdom? They were deceived by Kotos as surely as you were. You are in good company.”
“Small consolation, I’m sure,” said Estle.
“Yet it is some consolation,” said Nelwyn, and Gaelen’s heart was lightened. Nelwyn’s despair would not long rule her; she would be all right. She was already beginning to look on the brighter side of this very dark matter.
“And what is to be expected now, O Great Deceiver?” asked Gorgon. He had finally arrived in the lands surrounding the Lake-realm, and was now hunkered down in the marsh-meadows to the north of the Linnefionn. After the warmth of the desert southlands, the marshes felt especially chilly and damp, yet Gorgon didn’t seem to mind. He gazed into the amulet as the familiar illusion of Lord Kotos appeared.
“Ah. It’s probably just as well you ask,” said Kotos, “for you were not privy to the images I placed in Nelwyn’s mind. She has by now made them known to the Lady, and they are deciding their next course. If all has gone according to plan, they will send only about half their number to Mountain-home, and the rest will remain on the island so that they can meet the anticipated attack by Lord Wrothgar. The Stone of Léir will be moved, and they will most likely send a small party with it so as not to attract attention. I expect it to be relatively unprotected—the Elves will rely on stealth and secrecy rather than strength of arms. Yet we will not attack the party until we have surmised where they are taking the Stone, as we cannot risk matters going awry. They will either try to take it to another of the Elven-realms, or they will try to conceal it in some dark place where no one will think to look for it. Then they will post guardians, just in case. The only other Elven-realm that they will believe to be safe is Tal-ailean, in the Verdant Mountains. If they go there, we will take the Stone ere they arrive. If not, we will follow them until we have learned their destination.”
Kotos shook his head, his long, grey hair and beard waving to and fro. “I do not believe they will go to Tal-ailean, for they know the Elves there are scattered and are not well armed. They would never repel an attack by Lord Wrothgar, and it is doubtful that they could defend the Stone.”
“Where will they take it, then, to some dark hole in the ground? How perfect for me!” said Gorgon, who would have rubbed his hands together if he had been able. “You believe that they will rely on stealth to accomplish their end? Again, how very perfect that will be, as none can match the Wood-elves for stealth, which means that the Vixen will travel with the Stone. I shall have her when the time is right.”
“When it is right, and not before,” Kotos admonished Gorgon, lowering his eyebrows. “You shall have your reward, but only if you are patient. You must agree to wait until I direct you. Is that clear?”
“Abundantly,” said Gorgon. “So, what do we do now? How long before you are certain that all has gone as planned?”
“I will send forth the raven in the morning,” Kotos replied. Then he laughed in a very sinister and menacing manner. “I cannot pierce the veil of Arialde’s thoughts, but Shandor and I have always shared a bond. He was my close friend upon a time, until he met Liathwyn and founded Mountain-home. Since his spirit became trapped within the Stone of Léir, he has not been very conscientious about guarding himself, and I have now sensed a dread in him that I thought never to sense again. It is my guess that Arialde has asked for guidance regarding Nelwyn’s vision, and he cannot bear the thought of it.”
“But what if Shandor reveals that the vision is false?” asked Gorgon, who was suddenly alarmed. “The Stone will surely see through your deception, won’t it? If so, then our plan is undone!”
“Calm yourself, Elfhunter,” said Kotos. “Shandor never could see through my deceit, whether within the Stone of Léir or outside of it. He has now become absorbed in his own pathetic concerns. In a way, he has already come to Darkness. I do not expect him to provide enlightenment regarding the fate of the Stone, for he will be too afraid to know of it. His courage has failed: it has not been tested in five thousand years.”
“Yet the Vixen doubted Orrion…I know it,” said Gorgon.
“And who will believe her doubts?” laughed Kotos. “After all, Nelwyn saw Orrion’s doom in Mountain-home, valiant warrior that he is—horribly crushed beneath a troll’s feet. Alas, poor Orrion! What a brave and noble Defender of the Light.” He then favored Gorgon with a smile that was intended to be reassuring, but came off as disturbing. “And, speaking of noble, who would ever gainsay the insights of innocent, true-hearted Nelwyn, who could never be an instrument of Darkness? Remember, my very large and fearsome friend, no one in the Company will ever think of Lord Kotos. For all they know, I am dead and gone, or else skulking in the Fell-ruin. In fact, I’ll wager they are now assuming I will lead the Dark forces in the Fell-ruin to attack Mountain-home, since Nelwyn’s ‘vision’ has told them that Wrothgar is in the Darkmere.”
“But, Wrothgar is in the Darkmere,” said Gorgon. “And I thought He did not want the Elves to know it. Will He not be displeased?”
Kotos sighed. “Must I remind you that this entire design was put forth by Lord Wrothgar? I am only doing His bidding, as are you. Yet we both will be rewarded when all is ended. Now, enough of this discussion. Go and find yourself some sustenance, so that you may rest. I will not disturb you.”
At this, the amulet went dark. The sun was setting, and Gorgon could hear the first mating calls of the marsh-frogs. There would be no rest for him this night—he would soon find himself in the midst of a deafening horde that would be croaking, peeping, and trilling until nearly dawn. Ah, well, he thought, at least they don’t taste bad...
The raven went forth shortly after sunrise, taking Lord Kotos with it. It flew around the perimeter of the L
innefionn, taking notice of any Elves on shore, but there were not many. Kotos expected that the mist that surrounded the Lake could be pierced from the air, and he directed the raven to fly through it that he might gain a better look as to what was going on in Tal-sithian. Yet it was like flying through a cloud bank, and the raven was disquieted.
It broke through the mist as it approached the banks of the Green Isle, yet that was as close as it came, for a dark, serpent-like neck erupted from below in a sudden explosion of water. The Guardian’s teeth barely missed closing on the raven, and it was nearly knocked from the air. Kotos caught a glimpse of at least three of the huge beasts circling below, realizing that he had nearly fallen prey to one of them. They were all booming in their deep, sonorous voices, and Kotos dared not linger. Rumor had it that water-dragons were very sensitive to the presence of evil. Better to fly from the island as fast as the raven could manage.
The assault by the great beast had unnerved Kotos, who was only just realizing the difficulty he would have found himself in had it succeeded. It was fortunate, thought Kotos as he flew back through the thick mist, that the Guardians could not speak of what they had seen. There was one other matter that had unnerved and puzzled Kotos—he had not been able to detect any trace of Lord Shandor.
In the council chamber, the debating continued. All were agreed that, if Gaelen and Fima were right, Kotos had been trying to motivate the Elves to move the Stone of Léir. It seemed to be the entire point of Nelwyn’s vision. So, was there an army in the Fell-ruin? Would Wrothgar attack Mountain-home? Should Arialde send an army? What should be done?
“We must do exactly as Lord Wrothgar expects,” said Arialde. “He must believe that we have been taken in.”
Estle turned to Nelwyn. “And what does that mean, exactly? If we believed your vision was true, and I am not yet certain that we should not, what course would be taken?”
“We would send a defense force to Mountain-home, but we would keep a fair number of defenders here in the Lake-realm,” said Nelwyn. “And we would, of course, move the Stone.”
“Then that is precisely what we must appear to do,” said Gaelen. “Yet the Stone must remain here, and be guarded as never before. It may be that some parts of Nelwyn’s vision are true, and it is not impossible to imagine Lord Wrothgar sending forth a force from the Darkmere. We have long suspected that the Dark Power has dwelt there. Nelwyn and I are, in fact, certain of it.”
“And how, may I ask, can you be so certain?” asked Galador, who clearly did not believe that Gaelen could know.
“Because we both ventured there on a time,” said Gaelen. “And if it were not for my cousin, I would have died there. Nothing will convince me that the Shadowmancer does not rule that terrible realm.”
“Will you tell me the tale?” asked Fima who was already reaching for his parchments, his lore-master’s eyes alight with interest.
“We must return to the matter at hand,” said Rogond. Both he and Galador had been staring at her in astonishment; they could not imagine anyone’s doing anything so foolhardy.
“You are living on borrowed time, as if I didn’t already know it,” muttered Galador.
“I was younger then,” said Gaelen.
“I’m afraid I must bring up another possibility,” said Hallagond. “What if Nelwyn’s vision really does outline Wrothgar’s intent, and he is counting on Kotos to do exactly what he did, tipping off Gaelen so that we would do exactly what we are now doing? What if we are falling into his hands by…by not falling into his hands?”
“He has not had his kaffa yet this morning,” said Estle. She turned to Hallagond with a familiar sardonic expression. “Have you seen Gaelen’s list? Orrion is Kotos, and he is also Gorgon Elfhunter. Of that we are certain.”
“But…are you suggesting that Wrothgar would not anticipate Gaelen’s perceptive nature? That he would discount her? If so, then he is not as clever as I thought.”
“Wrothgar and Kotos would discount Gaelen, for they do not know her,” said Arialde. “To them, she is neither wise nor learned—only a Sylvan Elf. The Woodland folk have always been dismissed by the Dark Powers.”
“Yet I cannot imagine that they would not take Gorgon into account,” said Rogond, who was not disagreeing entirely with Hallagond’s opinion, as he had thought it himself in an indecisive moment. “Wrothgar must know that Gorgon shares a bond with Gaelen.”
Gaelen considered for a moment. “I have wondered whether Gorgon’s connection with me will allow him to figure out what we have been planning, though I have become adept at keeping things hidden from him. My sense of Gorgon tells me that he has fallen into a mire that he cannot extricate himself from. Always he has acted alone…pridefully so. His desperation at the outcome of our battle in the Spirit Realm has forced him into submission. I would imagine that Kotos’ arrogance outweighs Gorgon’s caution, and Wrothgar might not know much of Gorgon at all. They may yet come to grief by underestimating both of us.”
“If Wrothgar could hear you now, he would never underestimate you again,” said Arialde. “How fortunate that he cannot, for I believe your instincts are the best guide we have. Wrothgar has always valued the wrong kind of strength.”
“Has anyone considered a possibility that, to me, is fairly obvious?” asked Azori, who had not yet spoken.
“Enlighten us, my brother,” said Estle. “Though I believe I know what you are going to say, for I have wondered the same thing myself.”
“You say that the Stone of Léir must not fall into the wrong hands, or the Light will perish. You also have said that the Stone has gone dark, and that this Shandor will provide no enlightenment. Why do we not simply destroy it? It cannot threaten the Light if it does not exist.” Azori looked around the circle, taking note of the variety of expressions on the faces of his companions. “It would seem to be the most sensible course to me,” he said, spreading his hands. “Destroy the Stone, and none may use it for good or ill. It doesn’t seem to me to be all that useful anyway. The Spirit within it is…unbalanced, even demented. Would any of you trust it to advise you now?”
Arialde was conflicted between indignation on Shandor’s behalf and resignation—she had not expected her brother to abandon courage the way he had. “I do not know whether he is demented, but I do understand Azori’s feeling,” she said at last. “Yet it is not known what the outcome will be if we release Shandor from the Stone. Without his body to return to, he may leave Alterra forever, or he may set himself to dark mischief. He will be most aggrieved and angry, that is certain. I am not sure of what he would be capable of then.”
“Are you saying that he would turn to dark pursuits out of mere vindictiveness? I had not thought him to be so easily turned,” said Galador.
“Yet grief is a terrible waster of hearts and talents,” said Gaelen. “You would know something about that.”
“As would you.”
Gaelen turned back to Arialde. “I do understand your reluctance, my lady, but…what if Shandor’s body could be brought here, to Tal-sithian? Could we not then release Shandor, and restore him? Could you not heal his pain? He is trapped within a deep well of despair, thinking that the shadows of the past can heal him, but they have not. They cannot.”
“Shandor was the mightiest of all of us,” said Arialde, “and once his honor was beyond question. He was the strongest defender of Light that has ever been, yet now he is lost. I do not know what sort of being we will deal with if he is released.”
“I would like to think that the spirit with which he was originally endowed will prevail,” said Fima. “After all, he has striven to defend the good and to overcome Darkness since the Time of Mystery. That surely cannot be overcome by a few thousand years of imprisonment.”
“If you had seen the vision that he sent to me, you would understand the Lady’s reluctance,” said Gaelen. “He afflicted my soul upon that day with a sight so terrible that it could have taken my sanity, only because I disturbed him without permission. I
will admit to being impulsive, but I meant no discourtesy. To send forth such cruel retribution is not the action of one who defends the Light. Both Galador and I have lived with grief, yet we have not allowed it to take away our consideration for others. Shandor has fallen into a place of torment…a cage where there is only the illusion of joy.” She paused and cast her eyes downward. “Despite my fears, I would see him set free.”
“And why is Shandor a prisoner of grief? Estle and I do not know the tale, though it seems well-known to the rest of you,” said Azori. “What grief could possibly be so great as to turn such a lordly being into a reclusive, self-pitying potential menace?”
“I will tolerate no disrespect of Lord Shandor,” said Arialde, as distant thunder rumbled, punctuating her displeasure. “You might as well ask yourself what circumstances could turn a young man, who was born innocent and full of potential, into a self-serving, untrustworthy confirmed menace. Yet I will not ask you to reveal your own history. My guess is that you and Shandor have something in common, and that is either love denied or love lost. Shandor, who was so very passionate and loved Liathwyn so deeply, could not bear her loss. His spirit was torn, and he could find no healing anywhere but in the Stone of Léir.”
“Yet it did not heal him, did it?” said Azori who was not displeased at being named a menace.
“It is not Shandor who puzzles me, but Liathwyn,” said Nelwyn. “I have never understood her. How could she condemn her only love to die a slow death from despair? How could she bear to part from him forever? I would fight to my last breath to remain with Galador—did she not love Shandor enough to fight for him?”
“She had little choice,” said Arialde. “The Fall of Tal-elathas was perhaps the greatest disaster in the history of our world. Liathwyn lost nearly every member of her family, including her beloved brother. She made the mistake of following behind Lord Shandor, and she witnessed the terrible aftermath of the Battle. Words cannot tell how grim that vision would have been, especially to a gentle soul like Liathwyn. It literally took her spirit. She lingered as long as she could, several years as I recall, but she wasted with sorrow, growing weaker day by day. Her light had been quenched, and Shandor could not revive it. Neither he nor their daughter Ordath could make any difference. Liathwyn had to be carried to the Twilight Shores, for otherwise she would have wasted unto death, and she wanted to spare Lord Shandor some of that terrible ordeal. His heart was torn asunder long before she left the shores of Alterra…he sank further into despair each day that he looked upon her decline.”