Ravenshade

by C S Marks

  “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Hallagond. May I come in?”

  “Of course,” said Galador. “Please do. Perhaps you can convince Nelwyn to stop her incessant pacing.”

  “Oh. Is this a bad time?”

  “Not at all,” said Nelwyn. “You are always welcome. I just wish you were the escort sent to conduct us to the Lady…I will be much less restive once I have delivered my message.”

  “There’s still plenty of time for that,” said Galador. “Scouts have indicated that Wrothgar’s armies have not even gained the Eastern Hills as yet. We have plenty of time to prepare.”

  “This is a different message,” said Nelwyn. “It was given to me by Arialde, and she said it was of utmost importance.”

  “What is it?” asked Hallagond.

  “I don’t know,” said Nelwyn. She had not read the message, nor even laid eyes on it. “I wish I could get in to see Lady Ordath at once. Arialde was most insistent.” They all heard the rumble of distant thunder, as the rain came down harder.

  “Where is Estle?” asked Nelwyn.

  “She is resting,” said Hallagond. “The journey has worn her out.”

  “Truly?” said Galador. “She seemed hardier than that to me. Are you certain she is not ill?”

  “No, I am never certain of anything where Estle is concerned,” said Hallagond. “But I expect there are, umm, other elements at work.” The Elves just stared at him as though awaiting an explanation, therefore he changed the subject. “Azori has been having quite a time here already,” he said. “It seems he has decided that Elven-realms are most impressive places, and he is looking forward to exploring this one.”

  “No doubt,” said Galador. “I am certainly gratified to hear that our realms are to the liking of a man with such superb, cultured tastes and talents. What a relief!” He looked over at Hallagond. “Was there something you wanted?”

  Hallagond smiled and shook his head. Galador was a stalwart friend, he was even likeable, but at times he seemed to personify the word “haughty.”

  “No, thank you. I just wanted to check on my friends…and to mention that, if your weapons need looking after, the smiths are hard at work forging and sharpening.” He pulled out his curved sutherling blade. “I thought I might let them have a go at this. Well, I will leave you both to your pacing and waiting.” He bowed and took his leave, but as he walked down the corridor he encountered the very escort Nelwyn was hoping for.

  The entire Company had been summoned to take early supper with Ordath. Soon they had assembled beneath the round roof of one of the garden-houses, so that they might all enjoy the air while keeping from the rain. The fire-pit in the center of the large, circular structure was most welcome, and the tables had been laden with the finest Mountain-home could offer, to the enjoyment of everyone. Yet they could not help but think of their friends, laboring toward the north with only wild fare and dried provisions.

  “I would imagine that Fima would trade places with me right now,” said Hallagond as he reached for another sweet fig stuffed full of honey and nuts. “At least, he would trade for the duration of this meal, if he could then be whisked back to rejoin Gaelen and Rogond.”

  “Don’t worry about Fima or Rogond,” said Azori. “They have Gaelen to look after them. She will make certain her hunting skills are well used, I’m sure. They’ll be having fresh-roasted meat every night.”

  “Rogond is no dullard, either,” said Hallagond. “I notice that, despite his having been raised by Elves, he is fairly adept at making his way in the wild.”

  “Rogond was raised by Elves?” said Azori, who apparently was unaware of it. “That explains so much…his unhealthy and unreasonable addiction to bathing, for instance.”

  “And the fact that he smells so much better than you do?” said Estle.

  “Yes, that too,” said Azori. “You know, Hallagond, I wish I had known of this earlier. I could have taken advantage of it in our last card game.”

  “What are you talking about? You nearly cleaned him out as it was,” said Hallagond. “I feared I was going to have to intervene on his behalf.”

  “Be silent, both of you, and show respect to Lady Ordath’s table,” said Galador. “There will be no talk of wagering and taking advantage here.”

  “You see?” said Azori. “That just proves my point. It’s small wonder Rogond is the way he is.” He turned to Galador. “Lady Ordath is not here to take offense.”

  “But I am here, Azori,” said Ordath, who suddenly appeared from out of the rain, gliding up behind him. “I trust you have all eaten your fill? Splendid. Now let us counsel together. I understand that you have serious matters to impart, and I have asked Lord Magra to join us.”

  She indicated Magra, who was now standing just inside the doorway, leaning against one of the carved pillars supporting the roof. He had just come in from the march. His hair and clothing were soaked with rain, yet he seemed not to mind.

  “My lord, please come and sit by the fire,” said Nelwyn, rising to her feet and offering him a seat. Magra bowed, and then sat between Galador and Hallagond.

  “Good heavens,” whispered Estle, who had not yet beheld Magra. He was the first Elf of the Èolar that she had seen, apart from Orrion. In fact, they bore a strong resemblance until you looked into their eyes. Orrion was almost perfectly beautiful, but his glance was cold. Magra was weathered and battle-scarred, but there was warmth, kindness, and good humor in his gaze. Where Orrion was intimidating, Magra invited trust. When he sat upon the long bench at the table, it groaned.

  “This message is mine to convey,” said Nelwyn. “For in it lies the essence of the Shadowmancer’s plan. And I have another message to give to you, my lady.” She drew forth the silver flute from her jerkin and handed it to Lady Ordath. “The message is inside,” she said. Then, she looked shyly up at Ordath. “When you have extricated it, may I please have the flute back? I have always wanted to learn to play one.”

  Ordath favored her with a smile so warm that everyone who beheld it felt safe— as if no evil could possibly assail them. “Of course you may! I look forward to hearing you play in the future. There are those here who can instruct you.” Ordath tucked the flute inside the sleeve of her dark blue robes, and her face assumed its former serious expression. Everyone turned their attention to Nelwyn, who did her best to recount the events concerning Orrion, Lord Kotos, and the Stone of Léir.

  When she had finished, Nelwyn sat back down beside Galador. All eyes turned then to Ordath, who had been listening with a pensive, rather melancholy expression. She sat quietly, lost in her own thoughts for a few moments. Then she rose and addressed the Company.

  “So, Lord Wrothgar has planned this deception, and he now expects that the Stone of Léir is being moved to a new resting-place. Yet he sends forces from the Fell-ruin and from the Darkmere, planning to attack us anyway? I expect he means to convince us further that Nelwyn’s insight was true. And Arialde has done nothing to disillusion him, sending forth a replica of the Stone that is meant to be taken the moment it is hidden. I would not want to be anywhere near Tûr Dorcha when Wrothgar learns that the Stone is false, and the Deceiver has been deceived.”

  “How may we turn this to our advantage?” asked Magra. “The reports from our scouts to the north indicate that the forces amassing there are formidable, perhaps even formidable enough to succeed. Yet they have seen no sign of any Bödvari or other creatures of fire. How can we use this failed deception to crush our Enemy?”

  “I would suggest that we do exactly as expected,” said Nelwyn. “We should rout Wrothgar’s forces utterly. After all, according to his plan, we should not know that he has followed the replica of the Stone and taken it. We should believe that our primary purpose is simply to defend Mountain-home. Arialde has held back forces in Tal-sithian, as Wrothgar would have expected, for according to the deception she would now anticipate an attack from Wrothgar himself. Yet that attack will not come, for Wrothgar now believes
that the Stone has been moved.”

  “He is not strong enough to attack Tal-sithian, much less prevail there, unless we have profoundly underestimated him,” said Magra.

  “Precisely why he orchestrated this attempt to convince us to move the Stone,” said Ordath. “He did not count on the perceptive nature of this Company.”

  “One of them in particular, I expect,” said Magra, thinking of Gaelen.

  “What he did not count on,” said Ordath, “is the unique situation that exists between Gorgon and Gaelen. Had Lord Kotos chosen a different host, this might not have gone as well for us.”

  “I hope Gorgon eventually becomes aware of the irony of it,” muttered Nelwyn. “He deserves to kick himself a thousand times.”

  “All is not ended as yet,” said Ordath. “We might be the ones kicking ourselves. We must take this coming attack very seriously. But if we succeed in crushing our attackers, I sense we will have done far more damage to Wrothgar than he might ever recover from. He has no other forces. His entire plan rests on acquiring the Stone.”

  “He will attack, and then retreat before we can do much damage,” said Hallagond. “He is saving the real assault in anticipation of gaining possession of Lord Shandor.”

  “Then when he retreats, we must pursue him,” said Magra. “We should surprise him by driving back north and decimating his army. Then he will not be able to mount another assault, Stone or no Stone.”

  “All this sounds too easy,” said Estle. “What if, like the Scourge, he has a weapon of which you are unaware?” Ordath looked puzzled.

  “The Scourge was an army of villains in the southern desert,” Galador explained. “They had a dragon with them, but we did not know until the last minute. It was…a bit of a challenge.” He smiled over at Hallagond, and they both raised their glasses to the memory.

  “Our scouts have seen no dragons,” said Magra, “nor have I heard rumor of any. They are not exactly easy to conceal. Yet that does not mean you are wrong, Estle. It is not like Wrothgar to hinge his entire plan on one event. We will need every strong hand, true heart, and keen eye to defeat him.”

  “My thoughts keep turning back to Gaelen, Rogond, and Fima,” said Ordath. “Their part in this is most perilous. They will face Lord Kotos and Gorgon together…a more formidable foe I cannot imagine!”

  “Now would be a good time, then, to reveal my plan of action,” said Nelwyn rising to her feet. “Gaelen and I agreed that, as soon as my messages were delivered to you, I should leave Mountain-home and travel westward, stopping in the Greatwood Realm for reinforcements. I will then lead them to Tuathas, that we might all aid our friends in defeating Gorgon and Lord Kotos. And of course they will agree, for they despise Gorgon Elfhunter.”

  Galador looked unhappy at this news, but he was not surprised. “So now you reveal the scheme you and your cousin hatched in Tal-sithian,” he muttered under his breath.

  “You should know that I have already requested aid from the Greatwood, and Ri-Aruin has granted it. There will be a contingent already on its way here,” said Ordath.

  “Ri-Aruin would rush to the aid of our friends in Mountain-home,” said Nelwyn, “but he will not have left the Woodland without protection. There will be plenty of help still to be had there, I’m sure.”

  “Naturally, I must go with Nelwyn to assist her,” said Galador.

  “And I am grateful for your assistance,” said Nelwyn. “I am also grateful for your forbearance. I know it was not easy for you to hear this plan for the first time.”

  “Oh…I expected nothing less, after all,” he said. “There are two Wood-elves whom I have come to know very well indeed. And when they conspire together, schemes like this invariably result.” He shook his head. “I have to admit, it’s not exactly a bad plan.”

  “I agree,” said Ordath. “Yet we shall miss your strengths on the battlefield.”

  “The rest of the Company should remain here to aid you, if they are willing,” said Nelwyn. “Galador and I can accomplish the necessary task. We will be riding on swift horses through familiar lands. Yet we must leave soon, before Lord Wrothgar’s armies surround Mountain-home and make our escape difficult.”

  “I have taken a look around,” said Azori. “I cannot imagine the difficulty of mounting an assault here.”

  “The mountains have served us well,” said Ordath, “but Wrothgar’s forces are skilled in mountain combat. Do not underestimate them.”

  “It’s just that my brother has rarely even seen a mountain in his life,” said Estle. “Not like these, at least.”

  “Will you all agree to remain here, and aid in our defense?” said Ordath. “If you wish to return home, there will be no shame in it.”

  “If I had to undertake another journey right now, I believe it would be the death of me,” said Estle. “I have never traveled so much in all my life! I am staying right here, maybe forever! Besides, thanks to certain members whose names shall be withheld, my home is no longer safe to return to.” She fixed Hallagond with a baleful stare.

  “I took care of that, remember?” said Azori. He bared his teeth and growled to punctuate his remark, though he was smiling.

  The council disbanded at sunset, each member leaving to see to his or her own affairs. Lady Ordath moved to her private chamber, extracted the flute from within her robes, and handed it to Lord Magra, who examined it. There was a parchment rolled neatly and inserted into the silver barrel, and Magra attempted to remove it, but his fingers were too large for the task. “Here,” said Ordath, “allow me.” She reached inside and deftly removed the parchment, being careful not to tear it. Magra lit several candles and they sat down together. Ordath’s brow furrowed as she read Arialde’s message, and then she handed it to Magra, who spread it out upon the table.

  My Dear Lady Ordath:

  It has occurred to some that the Stone has outlived its usefulness, and is too great a liability.

  They have suggested destroying it to keep it from hands that must never hold it.

  If you would consider this, have Lord Shandor brought to Tal-sithian at once.

  Do this, My Little Sister, before Wrothgar’s army arrives.

  If you would not, I will understand, for not even I can see into my brother’s heart.

  I do not know what may be unleashed if he is set free.

  May victory be ours, and may Darkness flee before the Light.

  As ever,

  Arialde.

  Magra looked up to see that Ordath had gone quite pale. There was pain and doubt in her eyes, for she had felt Shandor’s madness herself upon a time, and she had not wanted to face it. She loved her father, and longed for a reunion with him, but she did not know whether it was wise to release him. So long as he was trapped within the Stone, at least he was safe. And she understood Arialde’s veiled admonition—no one, possibly not even Shandor himself, knew what would be unleashed if he was set free.

  “I will assume that you wish to ponder this for a while,” said Magra, placing a gentle hand upon her arm.

  “Yet I must not ponder too long,” said Ordath. “For if Lord Shandor’s body is to be moved, then we must do so before the vanguard of Wrothgar’s army arrives. And that might be sooner than expected.”

  “I expect a month at the most,” said Magra. Then he looked deep into her eyes. “If you will permit me, I would offer an opinion,” he said. Ordath looked at him with gratitude—she would always hear him. “I have fought beside Lord Shandor on many occasions. His character and his valor were second to none. I cannot believe that, even if madness has afflicted him, he could not overcome it. He has never backed down from a challenge that I am aware of, and he has surmounted every obstacle in his path.”

  “Not every obstacle,” said Ordath, her voice full of sorrow. “He could not overcome the loss of Liathwyn. That obstacle is what trapped him in the Stone.”

  “I know,” said Magra, “yet the imprisonment of such a great spirit offends my soul. He cannot deal with his
pain so long as he is a prisoner of it. I would see him set free.”

  “Even if he has turned to Darkness?”

  “He would not turn,” said Magra. “Search your heart, my lady, and you will know it.” He rose and bowed to her. “I will leave you now to your debate. Yet know that I am yours to command, no matter your decision.” He turned then, and left her alone. She took a great deal of comfort in the knowledge that Magra would remain faithful until he breathed his last.

  Kotos had finally located Wrothgar’s Ulcas, the raven flying in circles over their heads and calling to them. It landed on the outstretched arm of one of the Ulcan lieutenants, allowing Kotos to share consciousness with a being who could speak.

  “We must interrupt our plan for now,” said Kotos through the Ulca. “You should track the bearers of the Stone, but at a distance. They must not know that you follow behind.”

  “Why not?” growled the Ulcan commander, who was disinclined to trust Kotos’ words over those of Lord Wrothgar. “We have our orders, and they say that we should kill our enemies and bring the Stone to our Master as soon as possible. Why should we believe you?”

  “Allow me to explain,” said Kotos, approaching the commander and placing a hand on his shoulder. Kotos invaded him easily, and then he shared an image of Gaelen shattering the Stone of Léir. “That is what will happen if your presence becomes known,” said Kotos. “And here, my good commander, is what will happen after that.” Kotos then sent an image of the commander, together with his regiment, writhing in the Black Flame of Wrothgar’s wrath. “There will be nowhere to hide,” said Kotos. “You will convince your comrades now, won’t you?”

  Kotos then returned to the raven as it perched upon the bald, scaly head of one of the Ulcas, who knew better than to do anything about it. The raven took flight, retracing its path back toward the north. Kotos hoped that Gorgon had not done anything foolish, but at least the Ulcas had been waylaid, and that was a relief. Now he would try to find Wrothgar’s five assassins before they could do too much damage.