Ravenshade

by C S Marks

  Gorgon Elfhunter sat alone during the exchange between Kotos and Wrothgar, brooding over his own situation. For the first time since he had set upon the northward path from Tal-sithian, he wondered whether all was as it seemed. Gorgon was a most circumspect and suspicious creature, and these qualities had aided him greatly in remaining alive. Something about the present situation worried him, though he did not know why.

  The worrisome thoughts had come to him after Lord Kotos had flown off to find the Ulcas. Something was being overlooked…Gorgon just knew it. Kotos tends to dismiss “lesser” beings as unimportant…is he dismissing something or someone that he should not? This plan is working too well. Would the Elves really take their most precious possession and allow it to play right into the hands of their greatest enemy? Would they stake so much on a premonition?

  Gorgon brooded by himself in the dark, hiding from the moon.

  There was someone he knew well, one whom he had warned Lord Kotos never to dismiss, and that was the Vixen. She had allowed herself to dream, and had not guarded her thoughts, and therefore had warned Gorgon of her intentions regarding the destruction of the Stone. What if that had been intentional, to prevent Wrothgar from attacking the Company? It had certainly succeeded. No…she was not that clever, and he was not that gullible.

  Are you not? said a familiar voice inside Gorgon’s head, causing him to tense his entire body with loathing. You seem fairly gullible to me!

  Gorgon knew better than to tell Gelmyr to go away, for he would not. He would leave only in his own good time. Let us recall a few events, then, shall we? said the hideous, decomposing Elf who now appeared to be sitting at Gorgon’s right hand. Let me see…you were gullible in the Barrens. You were gullible in the desert. You have been spectacularly gullible with respect to Lord Kotos. A few pretty visions were required to win you over, but look! You are now completely under his control. I’d say that just about defines “gullible,” wouldn’t you? Gelmyr laughed then, a remarkable act considering that much of his neck had fallen away from the bone by now.

  “Well, if you are so all-knowing, tell me the truth of things!” said Gorgon. “Why can I not believe that all is as it seems? There are doubts that assail me…the Vixen is luring us, I just know it.” He shook his head and grimaced. “I cannot believe I’m actually asking you for guidance.”

  Yes, you should no doubt slap yourself for entertaining such a thought, said Gelmyr. Go ahead and do it…pay me no mind! Yet you are right. I am your enemy, for I am you, Elfhunter, and therefore I cannot be all-knowing—I only know what you know. Yet the fact that I’m here at all should prove that your doubts are real, and that they have foundation. I can assure you that they do, O Baleful Bungler. It is your task to figure out why. In the meantime, I shall enjoy visiting you when “You-know-who” is away again. Of course, you know to whom I refer…that would be your master, the all-knowing, all-seeing Lord Kotos, who is even more gullible than you are? The Lord Kotos who thinks that Gaelen is only a lowly Wood-elf? You remember, the Lord Kotos who has promised you such great reward for your service, and who now forces you to walk unseen within striking distance of Elves, yet leave them untouched? That Lord Kotos?

  “Yes, I remember. You’ve made your point,” Gorgon muttered.

  I have made your point, Gorgon,” said Gelmyr, as he faded from view. Do not forget it!

  Even though his doubts had receded for the moment, Gorgon still brooded over what to do about them. “Should I express them to Lord Kotos?” He emitted a low, sardonic chuckle at the very thought. “Kotos would most likely not believe me. Either that, or he will become disagreeably insecure about it until matters are made clear. And what would I tell him, anyway? I don’t really have specifics. One thing is certain—he would somehow manage to blame me for anything that displeased him. Why should I hasten the inevitable rebuke and retribution?”

  His worst fear, after all, was that Kotos would become convinced that their current pursuit was vain and would pull him back before he could see to the demise of the Vixen. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself, at least until they became more substantial. Then he would need to decide whether to act upon them. After all, he would accomplish his objectives whether or not Kotos acquired the Stone of Léir.

  While Gaelen and company continued on toward Tuathas, Nelwyn and company traveled in a straight line from the High Pass to the Greatwood, passing to the north of Wrothgar’s western army. Both Gaelen and Nelwyn crossed the river Ambros, not an easy task for either of them. Then Nelwyn continued straight west through the Greatwood, while Gaelen followed the southern bank of the Eros. Nelwyn’s path had eventually crossed Gaelen’s. Nelwyn had noted with dismay that Wrothgar’s Ulcas followed behind her cousin, although, from the signs, they appeared to be keeping their distance.

  “It would seem that Gaelen’s ruse has succeeded,” said Galador. “They follow behind, but they do not attack.”

  “Yet they will attack one day,” said Nelwyn. “Therefore, we must not delay.” She was unaware that Gaelen, Rogond, and Fima were guarded and defended by Elves of the Lake-realm, but it would have made little difference. Nelwyn had resolved to stand with Gaelen, and that was the end of it.

  “Did you find any trace of the Elfhunter?” asked Galador.

  “No…he has left no sign of his passing, but this is nothing new.”

  The only difficulty Nelwyn encountered on her way to the Elven-hold was the crossing of the Brunner Ia, which was by now thoroughly infested with Úlfar. She dealt with the problem by crossing at night, after luring the Úlfar upstream by placing a torch near the water. Úlfar can detect light, though they are eyeless, and a torch at night often means prey. Nelwyn also placed into the water a cloth bag containing garments that had been worn, and thus carried the scent of the wearer. The Úlfar were drawn to it at once. The horses then leaped across as quickly as they could manage. Nelwyn’s eyes were hard, her jaw clenched, as she rode on. She had loved the Brunner Ia.

  She gained the Elven-hold two days later, having made good time through the familiar lands. In a matter of hours, she and Galador were in counsel with Ri-Aruin, and that night they feasted at the King’s table. Nelwyn’s heart nearly burst with joy and relief, for she was home at last. She might have reveled in it but for the small voice saying, You cannot stay...you know it. Do not become too well entrenched, for you cannot stay.

  Nelwyn had no difficulty in finding aid. Ri-Aruin marveled at the tale of her adventures. “So, our two hunter-scouts now find themselves at the center of things,” he said. “Our people are proud that your actions have shaped, and will continue to shape, this opportunity to sway the balance of Light and Dark. Even I, who have lived long and seen much, am having difficulty imagining the ways you have traveled. Please make every effort to return to us. When you do, both you and Gaelen will be accorded exalted status in our kingdom.” Ri-Aruin rose and bowed low before Nelwyn and Galador. This was an act that Nelwyn had seen him perform only once before.

  Gaelen and company encountered little resistance on their way along the Eros. The real troll country was farther north, though they did pick up the sign of hill-trolls ranging near the riverbank, and thus were ever alert after nightfall. Yet good fortune was with them, and they did not encounter any trolls. Fima had been correct in his prediction of the number of ravens, however. Because they are inquisitive birds, they were always flying near the Company. Gaelen could not rely on the sound of raven-cries to alert her to the presence of Lord Kotos in these lands.

  “I have noticed that the farther to the north and west we travel, the less brightly the sun shines,” said Rogond. “I have heard that clouds of ash can hang in the air for years after being spewed forth by fire-mountains, depending on the movement of wind. Is that true?” He turned to Fima, who walked beside him.

  “It is,” said Fima. “And I have noticed that the sunsets in these lands are distressing in their spectacular brilliance. We learned what that means when we were crossing the desert. I
would guess that the Monadh-ainnas have not been idle recently.” He blew a sigh through his mustache. “I’m so looking forward to choking on inhospitable air again.”

  “To know for certain, all we need do is look at the river,” said Gaelen. She stooped upon the bank and drew a handful of sediment forth from the shallows. “This is full of ash. I would say that you are both right concerning the fire-mountains. Now, are you surprised by it, I wonder? You heard what Hallagond said. This journey has been easy up to now. The trials have not even begun.”

  “Ah. Well, thank you for stating that obvious jewel of optimism,” said Fima. As though to punctuate his remark, a chilly, dull rain began to fall.

  Nelwyn and Galador left the Elven-hold with their new escort—about one hundred of the Greatwood’s finest. Wood-elves do not care to leave the forest, but they are curious folk, and these had been more than intrigued upon hearing the tales Nelwyn had told. The sons of Talrodin, named Arlan and Fynn, rode at their head. The rest were not mounted, as Nelwyn had reasoned that horses might be at a disadvantage in the rugged, ruined northern lands. She hoped she would not need to bid farewell to Gryffa.

  The elder brother, Arlan, was tall for a Wood-elf, and he was strong of limb. His eyes were most compelling, as they were nearly identical to those of his father’s brother, Halrodin. Had his uncle still been living, it would have been difficult to tell Arlan apart from him. Fynn, the younger brother, had been named for his fair coloring. He had very light blond hair and pale blue eyes—even his eyelashes and eyebrows were a light golden color. Neither Fynn’s father nor his mother had such coloring, as it is very rare among Sylvan folk. It was said to have come from his great-grandmother, who had passed on long before he was born.

  In temperament Arlan resembled his father—gentle and introspective. Fynn, on the other hand, was wild.

  Fynn had decided that he would become a warrior; it was his ambition to become captain of the King’s Guard. He practiced with his weapon of choice—a heavy broadsword—at every opportunity. He was therefore possessed of great, strong shoulders and arms, and in that respect he reminded Nelwyn of her own beloved uncle Tarmagil. Because of his strange coloring, Fynn had often felt that he was not accepted among his people, and he was sensitive about it. In truth, any separation between Fynn and his friends was of his own making, but he covered his insecurities with a veil of bravado. He seemed to be good-humored, but was quick to take offense.

  Nelwyn, an excellent judge of character, sized him up at once. She won him over on first meeting. “My word…is this really young Fynn? I can’t believe it. How impressive and golden you are. You remind me of Lord Magra himself!”

  Fynn, who was still very young, believed every word.

  The brothers would prove to be amiable traveling companions, and they were both quite keen to see to the death of Gorgon. Nelwyn and Galador were glad of their company. Fynn, in particular, would tackle any hard chore just to show that he could do it. Nelwyn worried about him…she hoped he would be able to restrain his bravado when the time came, as it would not mix well with Gorgon Elfhunter.

  Nelwyn knew where she was going, but she had not been there before. She carried a map of the lands between the Elven-hold and the source of the river Eros, which was their destination. They would meet up with Gaelen and company there, if luck was with them.

  Gaelen was only a few days’ march away from the meeting-place, and she would arrive nearly a week ahead of Nelwyn and company. Yet the journey had taken longer than expected already. It was still summer, and the two hundred mile change in latitude had little effect, but the fire-mountains of the Monadh-ainnas had darkened the climate of the these lands due to the ash-clouds veiling the sun. Though they were very high, and therefore did not affect the quality of the air near the ground, one could feel their effects in other ways. The lands to the east and north were most affected, as the high air currents moved in that direction. Sometimes the rains that fell over the Northern Mountains were unclean, being tinged grey with ash, and the sunlight was always dim. Gaelen and company had noticed it as they moved farther west along the Eros. No wonder trolls and other sun-hating creatures found the area to their liking.

  “I believe we should make camp here for a while,” said Gaelen. “Faladinn seems off to me, and I don’t want him to go lame.”

  “Music to my ears,” said Fima, who was weary and sore. He walked over to Faladinn and actually patted him. “Well done,” he whispered. “Do you suppose you could manage to be ‘off’ for a few days, then? There’s a good fellow.”

  Gaelen did not want to tell Rogond and Fima about her arrangement with Nelwyn—not until the discovery was imminent. She knew that she could not justify waiting too long in one place, but an extra day here and there would not arouse suspicion. Then something happened that changed her mind at once.

  She was keeping the watch on one dark night when she suddenly felt a chill in her blood. Gaelen found the night sky disappointing in these lands, for the brilliance of stars and moon was always hidden, but Gorgon appreciated the oppressive darkness, and he was on the hunt.

  Gaelen sat bolt upright, crying out in dismay: “No, no…be vigilant! Do not let your mind wander. He will take you! Do not let your spirit fall…hear me, please, hear me!” Then she felt the triumph of the Elfhunter, and the despair of his victim. She could do nothing but sit and weep, and try to shield herself from both the hapless Elf’s agony and from Gorgon’s twisted, bizarre gratification. It would seem that Lord Kotos had deemed it acceptable to allow the Elfhunter to hunt Elves once again.

  Gorgon had not felt such fulfillment in what seemed like years. Lord Kotos had advised him that this body must not be found, and so, after a rather prolonged death, the Elf had been dismembered and his body scattered among the rocks over a wide area. Gorgon actually sang and hummed as he roamed here and there, dragging the dead Elf by the hair, occasionally pausing to remove a large piece of flesh or a limb and then toss it aside.

  Kotos had insisted on coming along, and he spoke now to his apprentice. You remind me of a gardener planting seed. I wonder if fresh Elves will sprout up here?

  “That is not amusing,” said Gorgon, though he was in too good a humor to care.

  Later, as the sun began to brighten the eastern sky, both Gaelen and Gorgon were sitting alone in contemplation. Gaelen had realized that she could not linger in one place for long, or Gorgon would find the time and opportunity to prey on the Elves of Tal-sithian.

  Gorgon’s thoughts were more convoluted. He had felt Gaelen’s dismay at the taking of last night’s prey. He knew she was aware that he followed her. She had done nothing to the Stone of Léir, even though her guardians had been attacked. She had done nothing in response to the three assassins converging on her, either. She had not even been thinking of the Stone as far as he could tell.

  He thought he knew Gaelen very well by now…well enough to know that if safeguarding the Stone of Léir was really her primary task, she would not have failed to show concern for it. Gaelen usually showed fierce devotion to a task once it was given her.

  Did he know for a fact that the Stone was there at all?

  Lord Kotos has gone forth with the raven to spy on Gaelen and company many times, and he did not appear to be distressed or in doubt. He described the heavy oaken casket; supposedly he had even caught a glimpse of the Stone within. Surely, my concern is unfounded. Still, I should ask him…though I will need to be very cautious. I don’t want him to know of my suspicion that our errand is false. If he did, he might not allow me to complete it, but will instead run back to Mountain-home in an attempt to waylay the attack before too much damage is done to Wrothgar’s armies. And somehow he would manage to make it all my fault!

  Gorgon was unlikely to survive if that happened. He would accomplish two ends by keeping his suspicions from Lord Kotos—Gaelen would be dead, and the Elves of Mountain-home would hopefully be diminished. And, of course, Gorgon would have no constraints against taking Nelwyn and
Galador, or any of the Elves of Tal-sithian that he could manage. At least it was something. By the time the raven had returned from its morning foray, Gorgon had resolved to keep his suspicions entirely to himself.

  Gaelen had suffered through several more deaths by the time she gained the source of the Eros. It did not seem to matter, then, whether the Company moved on each day or stayed in one place. She had shared the news with Rogond and Fima, and though they were dismayed, they were not surprised.

  “You knew this was likely, Gaelen,” said Fima. “We all knew it. You tried to warn them in Tal-sithian. This is not your fault.”

  “I have learned that I am not responsible for Gorgon’s actions,” said Gaelen, “but I would save lives if I can. May we not call our guardians here, that we might all camp together and protect one another? Gorgon would not dare steal so close. He only preys on those who are alone and unwary.”

  “And how do we justify calling so much attention to ourselves?” asked Fima. “Remember…we are not to invite curiosity. We are supposed to be traveling in secret!”

  “A group of forty Elves will most certainly attract attention,” said Rogond. Gaelen looked away, wondering what he would think when Nelwyn and her reinforcements appeared. She still had not informed him of that part of the plan.

  “There are far fewer than forty Elves now,” she said. “There will be even fewer if we do not act! At least allow me to speak with them and advise them to move in closer around us. If they tighten the circle, they will be able to assist one another. They will also be more effective in guarding us.” This seemed a sensible compromise, and Gaelen wasted no time in doing it. Even so, by the time Nelwyn’s contingent gained the rendezvous point, ten of the Elves of the Lake-realm had fallen.