by C S Marks
“Well, you had just better make certain of it,” growled Gorgon. “I’m not sure I believe a word you have just said, but if you have any sense, you will make certain my desires are met.”
They will be, I assure you, said Kotos, just before flowing back into the amulet. This would no doubt be a dreadful conversation with Lord Wrothgar, who would not take at all well to the notion of reining in His forces for the time being. This would be more difficult than it sounded. Kotos would just have to convince the Shadowmancer, who was not exactly renowned for patience, that it would be prudent to wait until the Stone arrived at its new destination. When the Elves thought it safely hidden, Gaelen would not be guarding it anymore, and it could be taken without risk of destruction. Gorgon was exactly the creature to slip in and accomplish that task, if Kotos could convince him.
Once Kotos had gone from his awareness, Gorgon hunkered down to await further instructions. He noticed the rather woebegone raven perched on a nearby stone. In the dark, without Kotos, it could not see well enough to fly, and it felt vulnerable in the open. Gorgon, unlike Kotos, could and did feel empathy with it. He shook his head and spoke to it in a harsh whisper, knowing that Kotos was preoccupied and would not hear him. “Go on…now’s your chance! I would fly from this place, if I were you. Return to what is left of your life. Go on, now!” Gorgon shook his head again. It’s a pity that I cannot take that advice myself.
The raven ruffled its bedraggled feathers and shivered in the cold. It would not take wing…not in the dark. “Well, I tried to warn you,” said Gorgon. “You will not keep this up much longer.” He felt a momentary pang of fear as he realized that the raven could not have left even if it had wanted to. I wonder…could I have made such a choice, if it presented itself? Of course I could…
He resolved then to take a lesson from the bird; he would not allow himself to be used up. He would appear to go along with Kotos for as long as it suited him, but there were thoughts that he would keep to himself. Gorgon, like Gaelen, had become very adept at doing that.
Kotos finally emerged from the amulet at the breaking of dawn. Wrothgar had taken the news gracefully, considering. Yet now their task was formidable; they had to ensure that no man or Ulca interfered with Gaelen and the Stone. Wrothgar could possibly reach out to some of them, the Ulcas in particular, but there might be those who did not receive the message. They would need to be intercepted and waved off by Kotos and Gorgon; there was no other to do it.
Kotos informed Gorgon of the change in plans just before sending the raven aloft. He had already decided that he would need to secure a new host—his bird was getting too weak to be of use for much longer. This would not be difficult in an area where ravens abounded, and they would get even more numerous farther to the north. Ravens were inquisitive birds, and they would be drawn to the sight of one dead or dying. Therefore, Kotos intended to push his current host to the limit of its endurance. It would need to fly on swift wings to encounter Wrothgar’s forces, who were still over a hundred miles away.
Gorgon would continue to follow the Stone, but he was instructed that, should any servant of Darkness appear, he was to slay it at once. He smiled at the irony, as he was now in the rather strange position of protecting the Company.
The raven flew as fast as it could manage back toward the southwest, toward Tûr Dorcha. Kotos knew that Wrothgar’s small but potentially deadly force would be under cover during the day, as it was comprised mostly of creatures that disliked the sun. They would have been told to make swift progress, but they would not have been driven without rest.
Kotos sent his thoughts out in a wide net, questing for them, as he had a very wide path to search. The raven endured this assault of malevolent energy for three, perhaps four minutes, and then it fell from the sky to land hard upon the earth with a forlorn squawk. It rolled several times, appearing as a disorganized lump of dusty black feathers, and then was still.
This turn of events had not been in Lord Kotos’ plan at all. He had underestimated the draining effect the broadcasting of such powerful dark thoughts would have on his unassuming host. Now he was trapped within the personage of a dying bird, and he did not have his amulet. Meanwhile, Wrothgar’s forces had not been found, and Kotos would need to assume that they were still making their way toward the Company. Kotos gave a proverbial sigh of frustration. He knew that the sight of dead and dying things attracted new hosts, such as ravens, crows, and (ugh!) vultures. It was also possible that a non-winged scavenger such as a fox, a wolf, or a cat might come to investigate. That would not do…Kotos required wings to accomplish his tasks.
He had always preferred the company of ravens. They were intelligent enough to serve him for a long time, as this one had. And they could be beguiled, oh yes! Ravens were subject to at least three of the seven temptations: vanity, gluttony, and greed. Yet a few of them were wise, particularly those that dwelled in the southern Monadh-hin. They were great friends of the dwarves who ruled the underground caverns, flying forth and gathering news in exchange for food and warm lodging. Yet the ravens of the North had been divided. Some were very wise, but others were little better than common crows.
To have his dying raven assailed by crows would be a bad turn of events for Lord Kotos, but that was exactly what happened. Kotos looked through the bird’s failing eyes to behold several dark shapes wheeling and cawing overhead. Move on, you vermin, thought Kotos, to no avail. Ravens and crows are bitter enemies; they will not tolerate one another for long. Now, here was a helpless enemy, and the crows swooped down upon it, pecking and worrying the raven, who was too weak to defend itself.
All right, you lot, thought Kotos, taste of my power! He sent a blast of pain out through the raven’s brain that killed it instantly, but it also stunned and confused the crows. They made an immediate and hasty retreat. Kotos gave another proverbial sigh as he felt the raven’s flesh turn from living into non-living. He could have inhabited one of the crows, he supposed, but they never had served as well as ravens, and as long as he was trapped within a crow he might never get near enough to another healthy raven.
He could no longer see through the raven’s eyes, yet he could sense his surroundings. Night was falling, and that was a pity. He hoped he would not be picked up by some night-hunting creature before dawn came, when he might lure a fresh raven into his service. His arrogance would not allow him to truly appreciate the predicament he was in.
Wrothgar’s forces had separated into two contingents, for the men did not like traveling with the Ulcas, and the Ulcas could see little benefit in tolerating the presence of men. These Ulcas were larger, fiercer, and cleverer than most, and all had seen battle. They had been kept in Tûr Dorcha to safeguard it, honing their battle-skills with constant training and sparring. Now they were to retrieve the Stone and take it back to the Shadowmancer, killing all who stood in the way. They were not heavily armored, for armor favors neither speed nor stealth. They were clad more like assassins, with heavy robes and hoods to help block the sun. Wrothgar knew that the Company numbered but three, and that the Elves who guarded them were few and scattered. His victory was nearly assured. Still, he sent five men out with his Ulcas, for they could travel by day, and they were all highly trained experts in the art of murder.
Wrothgar had ensnared these men, as he always did, with promise of power. Men always desired control over other men, and since the Plague this had become even more important to some. The sons of rulers who found their kingdoms ravaged, such that they had little to inherit, were quite vulnerable to the suggestion that their prominence could be restored. Wrothgar had found three such men—the son of the King of an eastern realm from beyond the Stone Desert, the son of the leader of a mighty clan of northern mountain-folk, and the second son of the ruler of the realm that had once been home to Talishani Ali. In that case, the firstborn son had refused temptation, and Wrothgar had convinced the younger son to slay him. All three of these men, who felt that they were entitled to rule a great realm, h
ad been promised that when the Stone was in the possession of Wrothgar, their desires would be met.
The men were skilled and motivated, but they did not work well together. It’s difficult to throw three dogs in a pen with a single scrap of meat and have all emerge unscathed. Their pride and arrogance amused Lord Wrothgar, who saw them only as the means to achieve his ends. He would probably slay them all eventually if they did not behave.
The other two men were mere brigands—a sutherling and a Corsair—simple greed had ensnared them. Wrothgar favored them, for they were easy to please, as neither held any desire to be responsible for anything. They actually worked in partnership, for they were not particularly courageous and knew that they stood a better chance of survival together.
They had resolved to allow the other three men to range ahead. The arrogant fools would flush out any defenders, and would be the first to fall. The two brigands would come in from behind if the situation allowed. Both were accomplished and deadly assassins, and Wrothgar had no way of calling them back without Kotos’ assistance. The Company was in grave peril.
The five men had drawn far ahead of the Ulcas, for they spent less time hiding from the sun and were now mounted on stolen horses, appearing as ordinary travelers. They had not kept to the same course as the Ulcas, for their horses could cross the Ambros, whereas the Ulcas would be forced to use the abandoned ferry that lay about fifty miles to the north of the junction with the Artan. The horses would make a silent approach difficult. They would be turned loose as soon as the men drew near enough to their quarry.
The dead raven lay about five miles from the ferry, but not for long. Kotos would soon be rescued, but it was not the outcome he had hoped for. A vixen fox had picked up the faint scent of carrion. She approached, her brushy tail low behind her, looking all around for enemies. She did not sense any danger, and she moved in to take the dead raven, for she had a litter to feed. Birds were not her favorite food, as she found the feathers annoying and there was not much meat underneath them, yet she could not afford to be choosy with five mouths to feed. A robust, healthy vixen, she had no difficulty dragging the carcass back to her den.
Kotos knew he would have to use her as host, and he entered her small but well-ordered mind with ease. None of the so-called “lower creatures” could resist him; they did not know of such things.
He explored the thoughts of his new carrier with dismay. He knew that foxes were very intelligent when compared with vultures; in fact, they were as intelligent as some ravens. The females, however, were difficult for Kotos to control, particularly when they had litters to raise. They were not easily distracted, were not susceptible to temptations, and were unlikely to listen to any suggestion that would take them from their all-important task. This one was no exception. When Kotos tried to influence her to take him near the abandoned ferry, she blinked her amber eyes and shook her head as though trying to dislodge a fly from her ear. She would not be dissuaded from taking the dead raven back to her den, and Lord Kotos had no choice but to accompany her.
Gorgon kept to his northward course, following the Company as instructed, but now he turned his senses back to the south as well. So far, there was no sign of any pursuit. Gorgon decided to spend less effort in concealing his tracks so that the Ulcas would be drawn to follow him and he could intercept them. It was also likely that Lord Kotos had found them by now and warned them off. Yet until Gorgon knew the facts he would not relax his vigilance.
This pursuit was wearisome. Perhaps it was time for a little diversion? Gorgon had shadowed the Elvish scouts upon several occasions now…it might be a good time to take one for amusement. He liked to stalk the Elves by night, as he could see as well as they in the dark, and the shadows helped conceal him. He sighted one of the sentinels as the moon was just becoming visible through shrouds of grey and white cloud above the trees. This one was sitting on the bare limb of a large oak, gazing at the sky as usual. Elves were so predictable!
Gorgon crept closer, reaching for his marvelous weapon of oak and sinew and leather, inserting it into a socket in the armor of his left arm and fitting a steel projectile into the pouch. It took inhuman strength to draw this weapon, but it was very accurate and effective.
He planned his attack carefully. The Elf would be hit between the eyes with the steel projectile and knocked to the ground, then Gorgon would approach. If the Elf was not yet dead, Gorgon would toy with him for a while before killing him. First, however, he would prevent his victim from screaming—he knew just how that could be done.
He drew the weapon in the dark, straining his powerful shoulders and arms, preparing to release. The Elf in the tree tensed and sat upright. He thinks he’s heard something, thought Gorgon, but he soon won’t be thinking anything at all!
Then, to Gorgon’s profound disappointment, the Elf gave a soft, hooting call to the west. He was communicating with another of the accursed scouts; apparently they were not as widely scattered as first believed. Gorgon knew that he dared not take his victim now, as there might be a way of arousing and summoning the others. The last thing Gorgon needed was to be forced to deal with forty of the Elves of Tal-sithian (or thirty-nine, as would be the case). That would not please Lord Kotos. He sighed and lowered his weapon. He would just have to content himself with re-living the downfall of Tal-elathas this night.
The four little fox kits in the den made short work of the dead raven, scattering black feathers all about. They would derive far more pleasure in playing with it than from eating it. Their teeth were not yet fully grown, though they were sharp, and their mother aided them by stripping most of the tough, stringy flesh from the bird herself, swallowing it so that it would soften a bit, and then bringing it back up for them. Once they had eaten and played their games, they fell asleep. Though foxes are often abroad at night, this one would not leave the den until morning, lest any night-hunters come to take her kits. She watched over them, curling around their soft, warm bodies and covering them with her tail until the rising sun brightened the entrance.
The vixen gave her kits a milk feeding before she left to go out hunting, wincing as their sharp little teeth assailed her, and then went forth into the chilly morning. At last, thought Lord Kotos. Today he would see about finding another host. A bird, any bird, would be better than this! He suffered through several anxious hours while the vixen hunted mice and crayfish, until at last he spotted a group of ravens circling over a distant meadow. He tried to influence the vixen to investigate. Look there. The ravens are gathering…they must have found a splendid feast. You could gorge yourself, and take a fine meal back for your kits to thrive on. We must go and see! Kotos was a very patient being when he wished to be, but the thought of missing the Ulcas and incurring the wrath of the Shadowmancer caused whatever patience he had to evaporate. Go on, now! You don’t want to miss the feast! Do you want the ravens to take it all, and leave none for your family?
The vixen sat down on her haunches and scratched behind one ear with her hind foot. She appeared to be thinking things over. Foxes often hunted together with ravens, following the birds, which would spot prey for them, and then sharing the result. These ravens were far away, farther that she normally traveled when she had kits in the den, but if she could find a fabulous meal at the end of it…Kotos would have screamed by now had he been able. At last the vixen got to her feet, shook herself, and trotted off toward the ravens. As far as she was concerned, this was her own idea.
When the vixen arrived in the meadow, she found that the ravens had discovered the carcass of a half-grown lamb and were feasting upon it. They were not inclined to allow the fox to approach at first, but she whined and cringed, creeping forward and waving her brush of a tail to show that she was not a threat. After chasing her a few times the birds grew weary of it and allowed her to approach. Now, how to ensnare one of them? Kotos knew that the fox and the raven would need to be touching one another for the exchange to be made. He prepared to react the instant this contact occurred, as
he urged the vixen to attempt to take the same piece of flesh being tugged at by the largest raven in the group. That is the best, the most tender and the most nourishing. You must take it!
Well, why not, thought the vixen, grabbing at the meat. The large raven croaked at her and flared its wings, but it did not let go. The moment the vixen’s muzzle touched the raven’s beak, Kotos made his escape into his new host. And a fine host it was—a strong male. It would not object to the directives of Lord Kotos for more than a few moments. Why waste your time with this paltry meal? I will take you to a place where you can feast all day long, where you will want for nothing. Let us go there together now! The raven dropped the meat, to the satisfaction of the vixen; she then proceeded to gorge on the slightly-ripe mutton. Kotos could hardly wait to see the back of her.
His fine, new raven lifted into the air, to the puzzlement of the others, and flew back toward the abandoned ferry. Another raven followed behind, most likely its mate. Kotos reveled in the freedom provided by his new host—he had grown weary of the drudgery of going about with his feet on the ground all the time. Flight was a wondrous endowment in his opinion, though he supposed most birds took it for granted. Now he would locate Wrothgar’s Ulcas, and then return to Gorgon on swift, welcome wings.
Chapter 21
THREE MESSAGES
It was raining in Mountain-home, and the somber grey clouds reflected the mood of the people. The travelers had been welcomed, fed, and rested, and now they awaited an audience with Lady Ordath. Nelwyn paced to and fro on the veranda, reminding Galador again of her cousin Gaelen. A knock at the door startled them both, and they called out in unison.