by C S Marks
They drew out a piece of thin leather and spread it upon the table, as Carmyn set to work with a sharpened piece of charcoal. Later, she would use ink. When she finally finished, the map was incredibly detailed, and had taken three days and nights to complete.
Gaelen knew that she would find Nelwyn among the trees. The forests of the island were like gardens, with many varieties of trees, shrubs, and flowers, some that were said to be found nowhere else in Alterra.
Gaelen sensed Nelwyn’s presence long before encountering her, for the heat of betrayal and despair could be clearly felt. She knew that, since establishing the unwanted connection with Gorgon, she had become more intuitive than ever. Soon her inner senses would rival those of any who had come before her, if that connection continued.
If it continued.
If she continued.
Her abilities were growing, overwhelming her uncomplicated nature. Gaelen was a small vessel for so much power—she could only contain and control it for so long. She had to see to the end of it, and soon, or be forever altered by it. She had not shared her fears with anyone, not even Nelwyn or Rogond, but Gaelen was afraid. The spiritual bond with Gorgon, though unwanted and unbidden, was deep. At times, when she held a thought or an emotion, she wondered whether it was truly her own. She had to be free of him.
Her heart sank as she drew near Nelwyn’s refuge, feeling all connection with her cousin go dark. Nelwyn had sensed her presence and had veiled herself, but Gaelen would not be put off. She drew closer, calling in her clear, soft bird-voice, asking to be allowed to approach. There was no response from Nelwyn. Then Galador appeared, startling Gaelen, whose senses were trained elsewhere. His dark silhouette stood in stark contrast to the graceful, silvery tree-trunks and feathery shrubs that surrounded him. His eyes were cold.
“What do you want?” he asked. “I doubt very much that you have anything to say that Nelwyn will want to hear.”
“Well, then I must convince her otherwise, for I do have things to say that she will wish to hear,” Gaelen replied. Galador had come a long way in recent months, but there was still no question that his trust of Gaelen turned on Nelwyn’s fortunes. She set her jaw and drew a deep breath. “You must allow me to spend some time with Nelwyn alone,” she said, to which Galador raised both of his eyebrows.
“Why should I allow that, precisely?” he asked. “Do you have any notion of how distraught she is at this moment? Although I understand your motivation, as does Nelwyn, she feels betrayed. You would feel the same. If I were you, I would stay away from her for a while and allow her to come to grips with it. You will not comfort her now.”
Gaelen moved to stand within arm’s length of Galador so that he could look into her eyes. “You don’t know what I will say to her, Galador. You must trust in me despite your natural inclination. I will comfort her, I assure you. But only if you will stand aside and allow me to do so!”
Galador stood for a moment as though frozen in thought, debating Gaelen’s words. Then the tension flowed out of his shoulders and he nodded. “All right, I will trust you once more,” he said. “But if you upset her further…” He tensed up again as he said this.
“I won’t,” said Gaelen. “At least, I will try my best not to.” He stood aside then, so that she could continue with her plan.
Nelwyn was easy to find, as all Gaelen had to do was track Galador’s path. She sat alone, surrounded by fragrant spice-bushes and vines of jasmine and silver-leaf that encircled her like a cocoon. They seemed a part of her. Her eyes widened when she saw Gaelen, and then narrowed as she drew back into the shadows. “So, have you come to pat my head and tell me that all will be well? You can save your effort, because it won’t be. And if you are wanting to assuage your own guilt by repeating that you had no choice but to betray me, then save it. I don’t wish to hear any words from you just now.”
“I would never pat your head, Nelwyn,” said Gaelen, who had cringed inwardly at Nelwyn’s choice of metaphor. Gaelen hated being patted on the head, having her hair ruffled, or otherwise being patronized by persons taller than herself. When she was young, this had been done to her often by her elders and peers, until one day she drew a blade on one of them, a very tall male who was being particularly annoying. Gaelen’s body language was enough to dissuade anyone from placing a hand near her head—not even Rogond could do so without striking a brief spark in her eyes. “I was wrong, and short-sighted. I am not coming to assuage my guilt, but to suggest an alternative plan. Will you hear it?”
“Does it involve my going to Mountain-home, and parting from you and Rogond?” said Nelwyn.
“Yes, it still involves your going to Mountain-home,” said Gaelen. “Wrothgar has eyes everywhere, so that we dare not stray from the path he expects us to take. Yet beyond that, the path is quite different. I have realized that I cannot succeed without your aid. Will you give it?”
Nelwyn brightened at once, seeming to visibly grow larger as she no longer sought to shrink back into the shrubbery. “What do you propose?” she asked.
Gaelen smiled. “Proper planning must be done in tree-tops, where none but hunter-scouts can hear,” was her reply.
“Then let us away at once,” said Nelwyn, “for proper plans take time to make and refine. I know just the tree-top for the task.”
They made their way under the moonlight to the tallest, most venerable oak on the island, climbed into its welcoming branches, and laid their plans far into the night. By morning, when Galador next beheld her, Nelwyn was of cheerful demeanor once again and seemed at peace with the plan to go to Mountain-home, though she would not tell him why.
The news came as the sun rose high on the following day. Soon the entire island was astir with anticipation: the riders had returned with emissaries from Mountain-home. Apparently, they carried important tidings, as their mounts had been ridden nearly to the limit of their endurance. The Company assembled, together with the most trusted and valiant Elves of Tal-sithian, to hear the report from the realm of Ordath.
The faces of the Elves of Mountain-home were drawn with worry, for Lady Ordath had much ill news to impart. She was greatly concerned, for when Shandor had withdrawn into the Stone, Ordath had been aware of it, and it had alarmed her. She had already been receiving reports of large numbers of Ulcas, Trolls and brigands making their way north from the Darkmere, massing in the east of the Greatwood. Brave scouts had been sent northward to the dreaded lands of the Fell-ruin, and the few who returned brought grave news. Wrothgar was preparing an assault.
Arialde was not surprised by any of this news. She had not enlightened Ordath, for the riders of Tal-sithian had not been privy to all insights known to the Company, and they had not carried any message that could have fallen into the wrong hands. Therefore, as far as the Elves of Mountain-home knew, their realm was under imminent threat of attack.
They were not aware of Wrothgar’s deception, or of his collusion with Lord Kotos. They had already sent for aid from the Greatwood, and Ri-Aruin had promised to send as many as he could muster. Now they asked for help from Tal-sithian.
Nelwyn was mesmerized as she sat beside Gaelen in the Hall of Council. Her ‘vision’ was playing itself out before her eyes! Both Wood-elves felt a deep pang of sorrow at the mention of Ri-Aruin. How they longed to join their friends and kin, and march beneath his banner! Nelwyn looked over at Gaelen, whose face bore no expression as she heard what the emissaries revealed. None of this made any difference to her plan.
Arialde stood before the assembly, tall and silver-white, her power comforting all who perceived it. She did not enlighten them, or assuage their fears, for they must be led to believe that Nelwyn’s ‘vision’ was true. She asked that everyone present disperse and retire to consider what they had heard, take rest and refreshment, and meet again when plans were agreed upon. At the last, she called Nelwyn aside.
“Do you now perceive your importance?” she said. “You will carry the message of Wrothgar’s deception to Lady Ordath. I c
annot enlighten my people, as there will be too many unguarded hearts and minds for Lord Kotos to invade and perceive. He must not know that we are aware of him in any way. I intend to send my army with the news that the Stone of Léir is being moved, but you will carry the reality to Ordath’s realm. Once you are there, I expect Kotos’ attention will have been diverted into following Gaelen and her Company. Yet the spies of the Enemy move through the lands between here and Mountain-home, if I am any judge. All must appear as if we have been taken in.”
She looked deep into Nelwyn’s eyes. “If we are successful, Wrothgar will not threaten the Light for a long time to come. We will quell his ‘uprising’ and foil him utterly. His forces will be decimated, and we will all breathe more easily. If Gaelen fulfills her destiny, Gorgon Elfhunter will be removed from the face of the world. I suspect that she also has plans to exact revenge upon Lord Kotos, though I would not wager against my life in such a venture.”
Arialde smiled again, and it filled Nelwyn with hope and comfort. “The outcome of this conflict turns on the fortunes of two Wood-elves,” she said. “I, for one, am confident.”
Preparations for the departure of the army of Tal-sithian were made in haste. Arialde did not send all her forces, however. She held back a loyal and dedicated company of warriors, in case the island needed protection. Arialde knew in her heart that Wrothgar did not have the strength to overcome her defenses. Never had he done so, even at the height of his power. Lord Kotos would not dare bring his twisted spirit near the island again, that was certain. He could not see into the hearts that dwelt there. Yet Arialde needed to behave as though she believed in the truth of Nelwyn’s false vision, for her people needed to believe in it, too. Therefore, she held back her defense force.
All were told that the Stone of Léir would be moved to a new, hidden location until the Uprising of Wrothgar was quelled. This would be done in secret, and only the Lady herself would know when and where the Stone would be taken. Though this prospect filled the people with apprehension, they understood the need. Should a spy overhear any whisper or thought, Wrothgar would be told that all was according to plan.
The Company met in council with Arialde, and each was asked to declare intentions. All eyes turned to Hallagond, for his decision would set not only his own course, but those of Estle and Azori. He had spent many sleepless nights in consideration and debate with himself, with Estle and with Azori, but in the end the decision had come to him alone.
“I am conflicted,” he said, “for I don’t wish to leave my brother to an uncertain fate. I have already tried to influence him to choose another destination, but he has refused, and I won’t lead Estle into such a dangerous place. The Elves of Mountain-home will need warriors like me to aid them. Therefore, I will go to Mountain-home to aid the Lady Ordath.”
He looked over at Rogond, two nearly identical pairs of grey eyes meeting in acknowledgment. Rogond nodded and bowed, but Hallagond lowered his gaze, for he was disheartened. It would almost have been easier had Rogond been even a little indignant, rather than being so confounded understanding.
Estle then rose and declared her intention to accompany Hallagond, followed immediately by Azori, who had rarely looked so pleased about anything.
Carmyn did not know whether she could declare herself in front of the Company without weeping, and she sat staring down at the floor until Fima saved her the trouble.
“I have been in consultation with Carmyn, and though she had wanted to go with me, I convinced her otherwise. I have charged her with a task in Mountain-home, and she will be going there,” he said.
“Then only Gaelen, Rogond, and Fima are set upon this northward path?” said Arialde, looking with some concern upon Gaelen. “It seems so few to face so great an enemy. Yet there are stalwart representatives of three worthy races—Northmen, the Deep-caverns, and the Elves of the Wood. I can also send my most trusted guardians to aid you, if you deem it wise.”
“Thank you, my lady,” said Rogond. “We shall consider it.”
At last the day of departure came, and the boats were laden and made ready to carry the warriors of Tal-sithian forth to Mountain-home. They were resplendent in their armor of grey and silver, their banners floating on a gentle southwesterly breeze.
Instead of following the Brunner Aigred they would travel north, through the marsh-meadows, and then turn eastward, negotiating the tricky path through the mountains between the two turbulent Amari streams. They did not concern themselves with stealth—they wanted Wrothgar to notice them.
Nelwyn stood upon the shores of the Lake, scanning the waters, looking for signs of Collyn and his folk, yet they were nowhere to be seen.
“The Currgas are not comfortable with the sight of so many weapons,” said Lord Airan, smiling at her. “Collyn did say that he wished you well. He and his people have provided a supply of salted, dried fish, as they knew that you would need sustenance. I did include some of it among your stores.” He shook his head. “It is an acquired taste.”
The Company had not rested, having spent what might prove to be their last night together in fellowship. They had shared tales, songs, food, wine, and ale, and generally had reveled in their companionship. They did not mention that any one of them might not return to see the others again, though all were thinking of it. At one point, Hallagond drew Rogond aside.
“There is something I must share with you, my brother,” he said. “It is more than just my love for Estle that prevents my going into the heart of darkness with you.”
“That is reason enough,” said Rogond. “If Gaelen were not the primary reason for going to Tuathas, I would not wish to take her there, either.”
“You do not understand,” said Hallagond. “Estle is…well, she might be…she believes that she is…”
“Is what?” asked Rogond, who thought he knew the answer already.
“She is not certain,” said Hallagond.
“She is with child?” said Rogond, smiling.
“Maybe,” said Hallagond.
“That is wonderful news,” said Rogond. “At least, it may be.” He smiled again. “It must be the water in Tal-sithian.”
“Or the wine,” said Hallagond, shaking his head and smiling back at Rogond. “At any rate, I trust that the reason for my choice has become clear to you. And, I would ask that you not share it. I could not talk her out of going with me despite everything. She is as stubborn as Gaelen.”
“Is Gaelen stubborn?” asked Rogond, his eyes wide and innocent.
“Not in the least,” said Hallagond. “Now, let us return to our friends. There’s an excellent cask of ale that I discovered in the cellar, and I would share it with you.”
The sharing of the ale might have been a mistake, if the expression on Hallagond’s face the following morning was any indication. Neither he nor Azori were in any mood for bright light or loud conversation as they awaited the departure of the boats. Both were unshaven and disheveled, though Hallagond had at least made an effort to be clean. Estle shook her head. She would not drink liquor of any sort until she was certain of her condition, one way or the other. That would not dismay her, but she would also forego marwani and her much-loved kaffa. Her temper was likely to be a bit testy for a while.
When Rogond arrived he was a little rumpled, though he had shaved. His eyes did not seem to be quite focused, and he squinted painfully into the rising sun. Once the boats were laden and made ready, it was time to say farewell. Arialde went to each member of the Company in turn, presenting them with various useful tokens to aid them in their journey. Nelwyn was last to receive her gift, and Arialde sent an unspoken message into her thoughts. Nelwyn, your task is of great importance. You must carry your message to Lady Ordath, and I am certain that you will not fail. You will see Gaelen again, if all goes right. She presented Nelwyn with a beautiful silver flute. “For your dancing,” she said. There is a message inside the flute. Make certain the Lady Ordath receives it, won’t you? It is of grave importance. Nelwyn
nodded, and tucked the lovely flute away inside her pack.
It was time for the boats to disembark. Estle, Hallagond, Azori, Carmyn, and Nelwyn stood by, preparing to take their leave. Rogond strode up to Hallagond, and took his hand in a firm grip. “You had just better not do anything foolhardy, my brother, after all the trouble I went through to find you. Keep safe, and may we meet again at journey’s end.”
“You’re the one who needs that admonition, little brother,” said Hallagond. “Remember, I have Azori to use as an example. You have only Gaelen.”
“In that case, I will begin writing his epitaph right now,” muttered Azori. No one laughed.
Rogond approached Galador, and placed a hand upon the shoulder of his dearest friend. “Keep safe,” was all that he said. In answer, Galador did a most uncharacteristic thing and embraced Rogond. It was a brief embrace, and somewhat awkward, but it was undeniably an embrace. Then he turned from Rogond without a word, getting into the boat to sit opposite Nelwyn.
Gaelen, to the surprise of everyone, also got into the boat with Nelwyn, settling down beside her. “And what do you think you’re doing?” asked Galador.
“I am riding with my cousin for a while once we make landfall,” said Gaelen. “I am not yet ready to say farewell, and I need a good ride to lift my spirits. I will turn back after an hour or two. Besides, Toran needs the exercise. I must make certain he hasn’t forgotten all I have taught him.”
“Very well then, Gaelen, but do not stray too far,” said Arialde. “Remember that your task begins here, in Tal-sithian. You cannot delay your farewell forever.” Gaelen did not answer, but edged closer to Nelwyn. They both knew the truth of it. Yet it may have been that the person who sorrowed most deeply upon the departure from the Lake-realm that morning was Carmyn, the map-maker.