by C S Marks
“Oh, yes,” said Gaelen, “Lord Kotos certainly would not want to encourage the spreading of lies. Oh, the absurdity of it! Even through our pain, we still have our good humor, do we not, Elfhunter? We can still appreciate irony.” Then she grew serious again. “He means to kill you, you know. He will not suffer you to live, and neither will the Shadowmancer. Their promises mean nothing. If you would kill me, at least do it because it is your will, not his. And you might as well enjoy it, for you are doomed. I am the last Elf you will hunt, Gorgon.”
Have the Elves so corrupted you that you would listen to one of them? She is manipulating you! Do you not know it? Kotos fairly screamed.
“I suppose you would know, my lord,” said Gorgon. “You have been trying to manipulate me since the day we met. There’s no use in denying it. Yet I saw through your deceptions, and here we are, accomplishing my will, not yours.”
“You’re desperate, Ravenshade!” said Gaelen. “Your alliance with Gorgon has brought you to ruin. You underestimated him; he is not the hapless dupe you thought him to be. Now you fear him, for you are at his mercy. Admit it!”
I will teach you both that it is unwise to defy me! said Kotos, and sent forth pain into Gorgon’s already tortured brain. The pain was unbearable, and Gorgon raised his arms to cradle his head between his right hand and the stump of his left.
Gaelen felt it, too. Her bond with Gorgon was deep, and she gasped as searing pain nearly blinded her. She blocked it by closing her thoughts, but Gorgon did not have that choice, and he groaned in agony as Kotos tormented him. At last, it was over.
Now, will you do as you are ordered? said Kotos, who was both impatient and angry.
Gaelen could no longer hear Kotos, and she did not dare open her thoughts to him again. Yet she could still speak to Gorgon. “Through me you have gained much. I showed you the stars, and I let you see into my world. This is the world of Light. What has your hatred gained for you? What dark and lowly end will you endure? No one will remember you, Gorgon. Your tales may be told for a while, but they will fade. You will be remembered only as the instrument of Lord Kotos, who aided him in his most spectacular failure. Is that what you wanted?”
Silence her! Silence her, or I WILL!
“If you do not stop trying to order me, I will walk away from her and from you,” said Gorgon. “No one orders me! You want to see this…Duinar… dead? You want to escape from this mountain? Then you had better remember which of us has a body, and which of us does not. Try to force my actions with pain again and I will destroy your precious amulet! What say you to that notion?”
Gaelen tried to stand, but her broken body would not permit it. She settled for crawling back and working herself into a half-reclining position against a stone. The effort nearly took the last of her strength. The poisoned air had not been her friend, either.
“Not very beguiling now, is he?” she said. Her head swam, and her vision blurred. It will not be long now… “I will leave you soon. If you would kill me, you had better be quick about it.”
Gorgon could not allow Gaelen to die on her own, not after pursuing her for so long. He approached her and reached down with his right hand to take her by the front of her jerkin. Then he lifted her from the floor. She did not resist him.
This was not the ending he had foreseen. He wanted Gaelen to cry, to plead for her life, to fight! It was the first time he had ever known her to give up. “You could at least put up a struggle,” he said under his breath.
“Why? I know I’m dying,” said Gaelen. “I will not give you the pleasure of taking my dignity. I will die knowing who and what I am, in my right mind, and in my own way.” She smiled, though her voice was fading. “It’s not so bad, considering.”
“But...I have beaten you!” said Gorgon. He did not understand.
“There is much of innocence still in you,” said Gaelen. “Lord Kotos has beaten us both. Yet I will lose only my life, whereas you have already lost far more than that. You cannot help who and what you are, but now you do not even have that. Farewell, Gorgon. You will not long outlive me—that is certain.”
In that moment, Duinar and Nelwyn appeared on a ledge above where Gorgon stood. “Drop her, Gorgon, right now!” yelled Nelwyn, drawing her bow on him. Duinar’s eyes narrowed and his face drew into an expression of loathing.
“Yes, Kotos, drop her!” he said.
Duinar! Now see what you have done? You will have a difficult time in killing him now, you short-sighted idiot. Stop making conversation with your enemy, and KILL her!
Gorgon looked down upon Gaelen, knowing she was right. She was an Elf, the Elf he most hated, and yet she was an honest adversary. She had not tried to take his will, nor had she beguiled him with false promises. Kotos had taken far more from Gorgon than Gaelen ever had. In that moment, the Elfhunter made his decision.
“No, I don’t believe I will kill her,” he said. “My enemies have brought me to bay, and I must taste defeat at last. I am weary, I am in pain, and I have not felt real freedom since you cursed me with your presence.”
He turned to Gaelen, who was still dangling before him. “You say that no tales of me will be told. You may need to re-think that, if you survive. Now I will show you that I have not lost myself…that the spirit of Gorgon Elfhunter has not been taken. I hate you, as I hate all of your kind, but I know much of you, and alone among the Elves I have come to respect you. I know that what you say is true. I spare you now, only because it is not what Lord Kotos wishes. Farewell…Gaelen Taldin.”
He dropped Gaelen painfully to the floor and turned toward Duinar and Nelwyn.
“No! Don’t kill him!” Gaelen shouted with the last of her strength, wondering how such words could ever come from her mouth. Then she was silent.
Kotos tried with all his might to stop his wayward host. He tried pleading, he tried cajoling, and then he tried fear and the worst pain he could muster. None of it had any effect, as Gorgon almost strolled to the edge of a deep, wide vent, peering curiously over the edge. “How does it feel to be controlled?” he whispered through the blinding pain in his head. Blood ran from his nose and mouth—Gorgon was dying. “Shall we face the fire together, you and I?”
Then, at the last, he turned to Gaelen, his mortal enemy, who had come to know him better than anyone else. “Tell my tale,” he said, as Kotos screamed in frustration, finally taking Gorgon into death. The Elfhunter hesitated only a moment longer, and then fell headlong into the pit, taking Lord Kotos and the amulet with him. Gorgon did not feel the pain as his body burned away, but he did feel a last surge of pride. In the end, he had shown as much courage as any of them.
Chapter 27
THE FATE OF ALL CONCERNED
Duinar and Nelwyn had made their way down to where Gaelen lay, though it was difficult. The violence of Lord Kotos, who now dwelt in a pit full of molten rock, could not help but anger the mountains. There was no time to waste. Nelwyn wondered at the strength and agility of Duinar; he was much more vigorous than he appeared.
The tremors that had rumbled beneath their feet for many days had now increased in both number and in power. Duinar and Nelwyn knelt beside Gaelen, who appeared as little more than a small, bloody pile of rags surrounded by the fire-cloak.
“What did he do to you?” whispered Nelwyn, as tears started in her eyes. Duinar placed gentle hands on Gaelen, carefully examining her and straightening her limbs. She was beyond caring and did not feel the pain, yet with the death of Gorgon some of the years had fallen away from her face.
“She has been beaten almost beyond recovery,” said Duinar. “I would say that Gorgon disarmed her, almost literally, and then savaged her.” He glanced around the area, not seeing any weapon in evidence. “He was just too large and powerful an enemy. A sparrow trapped in a cage with a wolf will eventually be eaten, though it is quicker and more elusive.”
“Yes, especially when it is wingless and cannot fly,” said Nelwyn, looking in despair at Gaelen’s arms.
D
uinar probed Gaelen’s throat, feeling for a heartbeat. To his relief, he found one, but it was rapid and shallow. “We must get her into the fresh air, and away from this place,” he said. “I will take her, Nelwyn. Let us away.”
“Are you certain you are strong enough to carry her and climb out of here?” said Nelwyn.
“Now that I have my bearings better, I do not believe it will be so difficult,” said Duinar. He focused his attention on the fiery barrier that separated them from the other chamber and the doorway. “Get ready to leap across it,” he said to Nelwyn, who just stared at him. Duinar smoothed Gaelen’s hair back from her face.
“Hello, little Fire-heart,” he said. “Trust in Duinar. He will not fail you.” He lifted Gaelen and approached the fire. “Take hold of my arm,” he said to Nelwyn, who could not imagine what he intended. He closed his eyes and summoned forth his power.
Nelwyn felt herself surrounded by a covering of blue light. “Leap across the gap with me,” said Duinar. “One, two…three!”
Nelwyn was afraid, but she placed her faith in the wisdom of Duinar, and they leaped together across the fearsome crevice, barely feeling the heat of it. She looked around in wonder. “So, they were just on the other side of this wall of flame, and I did not know it? So much time could have been saved had I known... I could have leaped across and saved her.”
“Without me or this fire-cloak, that would have been difficult,” said Duinar. “And had you intervened, Gorgon might not have come to his decision to foil Lord Kotos.” He shook his head. “It will be a long time indeed ere a living host comes near to the Deceiver. Besides, it was fitting that Gorgon should have regained his pride and dignity at the end. He did not ask for the fate he was given.”
“You did not know him,” said Nelwyn. “He was cruel, and a scourge upon the Elves. His actions sprang from his own misguided sense of self-importance. He deserves no consideration in my opinion.”
Another fierce tremor ended all debate. “Come on!” cried Nelwyn, and they hurried from the horrid, stinking oven back up to where their friends were waiting.
They ran into Galador, literally, as he made his way back down to aid them. All three were out of breath, as the air had worsened since the downfall of Kotos. Duinar was weary after having called upon his power, but he was still hale. Nelwyn, who had faced too many trials in recent days, was nearly exhausted.
Galador took one look at Gaelen and his heart despaired. Somehow, though he knew it was unreasonable, he had expected her to prevail.
Soon the Company was reunited. Fima had been tending to Rogond, who remained senseless and unaware. That’s just as well, thought Fima, as Gaelen was laid beside him, for she did not appear to be alive. Yet Fima had no time to grieve for her…not now.
“We have to get out of here at once,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that this mountain is about to rise up.”
“Let Nelwyn catch her breath first,” said Galador. “I’ll take Rogond, as he will be a heavy burden. One of you must carry Gaelen.”
Duinar shook his head. “You are strong, Galador, but you are weary. I will take Rogond. He is one of my own, after all!” He took notice of the doubtful expression on Galador’s face. “What, you think I am an old man?” he said. “I am much stronger than I appear!”
Nelwyn raised her eyebrows in affirmation. “It’s true. He is.”
“Well, then, be our guest,” said Galador, backing away from Rogond. Duinar approached, bent down, and lifted Rogond’s tall, heavy frame with some difficulty, draping him over his right shoulder before regaining his feet. Once he was balanced, Duinar bore Rogond with relative ease. Galador’s eyes grew wide and he pursed his lips. He was impressed.
“I will bear Gaelen,” he said, lifting her easily. He could feel how broken she was, and he grimaced in sympathy. Every movement would be agony for her. Anger and indignation swelled within him, and he turned to Nelwyn. “Where is Gorgon? I would hope that he has fallen?”
“He has indeed,” said Nelwyn. Though that fact brought some comfort, it was not the jubilation she had anticipated.
Fima took in the sight of his two dear friends, Gaelen and Rogond, neither of whom was likely to see another sunrise if things did not improve. So…Gorgon was dead. “Well, at least that’s something,” he muttered, though as with Nelwyn it brought him little comfort.
The pain of Hallagond’s shattered leg and his grief over the loss of Azori had compelled Estle to give him a sleeping-draught, for he was in desperate need of peace so that he could recover some of his strength. She sat by his side, lost in grief herself, and sorrowed for him. Like Hallagond, she had wondered at Azori’s sacrifice, as he had never really shown such tendencies in the past. Perhaps in the heat of battle his true nature had surfaced and courage had prevailed over self-interest. Azok, who was (probably) Azori’s brother, had died with valor, but he had been given no real choice. Azori had chosen death to save Hallagond. There was a difference.
Now Hallagond wandered in the realm of dreams. He had not gone willingly, for his mind was in turmoil and he feared that his dreams would be unpleasant. His heart reached out into whatever unknown regions it could, seeking answers.
He had failed Azori, and he had failed Magra. He had been taken from the fighting without even the loss of one more enemy, and Azori, who was one of the fiercest fighters on the day, had fallen to save him. Hallagond’s honor had been restored in Dûn Arian upon the death of Lokai, yet now he feared he had lost it again. He sent forth a wave of doubt and despair, crying out a single question: why?
Against any real expectation, his cry was answered. Hallagond? Why do you grieve?
It was Gaelen’s voice, clear and compelling as always. Yet, Gaelen was not with him…how could she be? “How is it that you are here?” he asked. “Are you not far away, in Tuathas?”
Never mind that. Answer my question first, as I have asked. Why do you grieve?
“I grieve for my brother, who gave his life in battle,” said Hallagond. He was not yet ready to tell Gaelen why Azori had sacrificed his life.
Ah. That is ill news, said Gaelen. I’m sorry for your loss. How goes the battle? Are you whole? What of Estle, and Wellyn, and Lady Ordath?
“They are well, and we are victorious,” said Hallagond. “But Lord Magra…”
I know of Magra, said Gaelen. It is a great sorrow. Magra was the last of them. She paused, deep in reverent regret, before turning her attention back to Hallagond. There is more to this than the death of Azori. Now, tell me what troubles your heart, and do not tarry, as I do not know how much time has been given me.
“Are you…are you dead, Gaelen?” asked Hallagond. “Is that how you have come to me?”
What troubles your heart? she asked again, and Hallagond knew his question would remain unanswered. She listened patiently while he described Azori’s heroic action in his behalf. Then he was silent.
Did you fight well, to the limit of your ability?
“Yes…I certainly gave it my best effort,” said Hallagond.
And was it your intention to break your leg, so that you could not avoid being trampled?
“Of course not!”
Would you have given your own life to save Azori, had he been lying helpless before the onslaught of an enemy?
“I believe I would have. But I was not given the chance. I was not tested.”
You know you would have. I know it, too. Rest well, for you need not fear the loss of your honor. Rest and rejoice that Azori found his own honor in the end. You helped him do that.
Hallagond was weeping now, for he knew Gaelen was right. Estle had been listening with fascination to his words, for he had actually spoken them aloud as he lay beside her. Now she tried to rouse him, because he wept.
“Are you dead, Gaelen?” he asked again.
I do not believe so, yet I am not exactly alive…I do not know what my fate will be.
“You must not forsake Rogond! You must fight to stay with him, to the limit o
f your strength.”
I will stay if I can, for I would not leave Rogond. It will be my great pleasure to inform him that his valiant brother still lives, if Aontar allows it. Farewell, Hallagond the un-forsaken, and take heart. Then she was gone, and Hallagond heard the voice of Estle. When he came to himself, he had much to tell her.
The Cold Mountain was rapidly becoming the Mountain of Intolerable Heat. The Company wound back through the dark corridors, ascending toward the doorway and the world outside. Had they lingered even a short while, they would have been lost in the waves of heat and acrid vapor that rolled forth from below. As it was, they could barely see for the tears flowing from their irritated eyes. Even Galador was coughing.
Lord Kotos was certainly making matters difficult, as his rage upon being entrapped in the mountain’s heart had caused disturbances that would be felt as far away as the ruins of Tallasiar and the abandoned eastern city of Tallanor.
The walls and ceilings of Cold Mountain were cracking in response to the tremors that shook them, and sometimes it was difficult for the Company to stay on their feet.
“Hold together, my petulant beauty,” whispered Duinar as he paused and shifted Rogond to his opposite shoulder.
Suddenly, Fima looked back the way they had come, and when he turned back toward his friends there was panic in his eyes. “Get down!” he shouted, flattening himself upon the stone as a huge jet of steam shot from the darkness, passing over their prone bodies for several seconds before dying back. Everyone was fortunate to be wearing heavy clothing, yet there was some exposed skin, which was now red and blistered.
“Fine. Now I’ve been parboiled,” Fima grumbled as he struggled to his feet again. He hurried to catch up with Duinar. “That seemed to be ordinary steam,” he said. “Where would water come from to make steam in this place?”
“From melting ice, I’m afraid,” said Duinar. “Yet the news is not all bad, for the steam has cleansed the air, and now I am feeling a cold draught from outside.”