Worms' Ending: Book Eight (The Longsword Chronicles 8)

by GJ Kelly

  “A kind of rock-crystal, Longsword,” Allazar announced quietly.

  Gawain nodded. “And rock-crystal we know well, both from the Eastbinding and of late.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Have there been any events of mystic import since we’ve been away, Corax?”

  “Not since the loosing of the Seekmaws of Tansee, my lord. They have been reported to the north of Mereton on Lake Arrunmere, and word came from Ranger Reesen at Dun Meven that one had been sighted from the hills in that region heading east. Before those reports began to arrive, there was nothing since your warnings concerning the rock-crystal Grimmand in West Forkings.”

  “Wizard Corax has worked ceaselessly, miheth,” Elayeen announced. “He has assisted Birdmaster Harribek and helped speed the development of swift communications, he daily patrols our borders with staff and rod seeking out any hint of mystic incursion, and is attempting to compile a register of wizards yet in service in friendly lands. This, in addition to all his other duties.”

  Gawain nodded. “The register is an excellent idea. I imagine it will take time though before an accurate assessment can be made of numbers yet in service?”

  “Word arrives but slowly, my lord,” Corax agreed, his voice low and sad. “Together with warnings spreading to the brethren since your message arrived from the Hallencloister, I requested information be sent back to us here. I have no doubt though that once the warnings have spread the length and breadth of the lands, the brethren will be suspicious of my request for such details as their location and rank. Her Majesty has suggested that a ranger might be sent with the task of gathering such details, though it would of course take some considerable time.”

  “Nevertheless, my compliments, Serre wizard. I am sure Allazar will have some additional thoughts to share with you on the matter when we’re rested.”

  Allazar nodded, deftly slicing a chunk of roast beef. “I anticipate details of the wizards yet in Threlland to arrive when Master Arramin replies with other information I requested. Though, it may not be until the season is become safer for ships to put to sea; I do not think Master Arramin will allow the material I asked for to be carried overland.”

  “M’lord,” Tyrane announced, “Forgive my dullard’s lack of imagination, but who now is the enemy? Before, when our battle-lines were drawn and the army gathered at Far-gor, the enemy of all free lands was plain to see advancing towards us across the farak gorin. Now, we seem beset on all sides.”

  Gawain nodded, swallowed a mouthful, and took a draught of wine. “There is, as ever, only one enemy, Tyrane, and that is, as ever, Morloch. It was Morloch in his madness created a monster of Toorsen, and now Toorsen’s followers continue that mad work. It’s the Toorseneth and their creations which now plague the lands, and, for now at least, hold Juria in thrall to protocol and Insinnian’s stewardship. But, Morloch is all but spent and though desperately attempting to claw back some degree of influence in the northwest, is not our main concern now.

  “Now, the Toorseneth is the enemy of all lands east of the great forest, and of all elves who dwell therein, though many of them know it not. It’s the Toorseneth destroyed the Hallencloister and the wizards therein. It’s the Toorseneth now bent upon the hunting of wizards to extinction.

  “As for Juria, my friends, we must be circumspect now in our dealing with our former allies. Many of those yet wear the emblem of the Kindred Army, though concealed from plain sight. But there are more like the worm who in his bloodlust and perhaps eagerness to earn some unknown reward robbed us of Venderrian’s light. Those serve Insinnian’s will, and being dressed in the same uniforms as our friends, make it harder for us to tell friend from foe at a distance.”

  “What must we do, m’lord?”

  “Do, Tyrane? We must do much the same as Morloch is doing. We must regroup, gather our friends close, extend our influence, protect what loyal wizards remain, and prepare for an uncertain future. Morloch’s last desperate declaration was his intention neither to diminish nor fade. That is my intention for us, too. Our world has already changed beyond recognition, and is changing still. We need to become entirely self-sufficient if we can, so that the Ranger’s Oath may be honoured when the calls come for aid, as surely they shall.”

  There was a brief silence while the diners continued eating, three of them with hearty appetites, the rest more thoughtfully and wearing expressions of concern which Gawain noted over the rim of his cup.

  “It is not entirely as grim a state of affairs as it seems at first glance,” he declared with conviction. “On our journey back to the safety of this hall we learned a great deal about the enemy we now face. Their qualities are limited, common force archaic and grounded in tactics and strategies we at this table would hold antique. Their strength is in the mystic power they are able to wield, and the creatures they have learned to copy from models obtained from the west. But even that strength is limited, their resources limited, and, it seems, those who oppose their will are gaining ground. Word from friends in Juria has it that their grip in Thallanhall is beginning to slip, and that can only work in our favour.”

  “In truth, miThal?” Valin asked, his expression suddenly hopeful.

  “So it seems,” and Gawain described the conversation overheard by the aged Lord Chamberlain of Juria, and passed on by Captain Byrne.

  “This is welcome news indeed, miheth,” Elayeen announced. “It would seem the loss of the sceptre has caused more harm than we imagined.”

  “Yes. Though none of us should remain under any illusions concerning the influence the Toorseneth wields. Benithet’s Orb, the device which destroyed the Hallencloister, was, we were told, taken west of Hallencloister. Where, we know not. Perhaps to Ostinath and the tower. With such a weapon, the threat of another Calhaneth may well command more influence in Elvendere than the sceptre ever did.”

  But Elayeen shook her head. “I do not think they would make the existence of such a weapon known. All of Elvendere would rise up in revulsion should they learn of it, and of its use. Such is certainly the reason for the old taboo against travelling south of Minyorn, lest the truth of Calhaneth be discovered.”

  “And there lies the nub of our difficulty with Elvendere. For so long, the Toorseneth has guided thought and all aspects of life in the forest that almost all who dwell there believe entirely in the doctrines they have been taught over the centuries. To them, we are the enemy; crude, barbaric, and war-mongering imbeciles prodding the sleeping dog that was Morloch into vicious retaliation for our deeds. Me especially; I am the witless horse-king who violated Elvenheth and Faranthroth and rode roughshod over beliefs and customs held sacred for millennia. I know how Raheen would have reacted should an elf have ridden into our Great Hall and declared us all evil though unwitting servants of Morloch and demanded we change our ways.”

  “Thought you said it weren’t grim, melord,” Ognorm muttered, earning a smile.

  “It’s not, not really. Not for us. Elvendere will right itself in time, as doubtless too shall Juria. It’s not our place to interfere within those lands unless or until a state of official enmity exists between us, and in spite of all that’s happened, perhaps because of all that’s happened, I cannot foresee such a time. At least, not yet. It is one thing for Thallanhall to be persuaded against individuals such as myself, quite another for it to be persuaded to all-out war. The same is true also of Juria, where many stood with us at Far-gor.”

  “Yet the Toorseneth will continue to act in furtherance of its creed until it is destroyed, and the Toorseneth is in Elvendere,” Allazar declared.

  “Yes. For now, we must hope that the Toorseneth has but the three creatures at its disposal we have encountered thus far, copies made from the three creatures borne to Urgenenn’s Tower by Kallaman Goth. Graken, Grimmand, and Seekmaw.”

  “They have Condavians too, and Flagellweed and Spikebulb. With the false aquamire they are able to produce, and with the Pangoricon and sufficient time for experimentation, they may
yet acquire a large catalogue of creatures to send against us.”

  “But for what purpose, Allazar? Their warped minds are bent on the destruction of wizardkind, we are surely small beer compared with that goal. If the Toorseneth opens a second front against dark wizards in the west, then they will certainly face the might of Maraciss on their western border, and in comparison with that prospect we are surely small fry. However,” Gawain took another draught of wine, “It’s true, we three are tired, and tonight is not the time for strategies. I do think our new lines of communication will serve us well, and must be extended. I feel our rangers will soon be called upon to seek out and destroy the Seekmaws and whatever else is loosed by the Toorseneth in friendly lands in furtherance of their principal goal, and that goal is the ending of wizards everywhere.”

  “Then by your leave, my lady, now that Sardor Allazar is returned, I shall give greater attention to assisting Birdmaster Harribek and strengthening if I can his natural magic in the training of his birds?”

  “Thank you, wizard Corax,” Elayeen acknowledged, “That would seem a valuable area in which to increase your efforts.”

  Gawain nodded. “Well, then. We’ve offended the cooks quite enough with serious talk. If there is no other news which requires our urgent attention, let’s make of this board a culinary wasteland, and talk of gentler subjects. How is baby Kamryn, Maeve? Are the residents of Last Ridings able to sleep at night now?”

  And so the dinner progressed, with gentle talk on lighter subjects, and the three of the ended quest slowly becoming accustomed to the happy and welcome fact of gentle company, the business of watchfulness now gratefully relinquished into the safe hands of others.

  oOo

  43. PS…

  Over the course of the following days, Gawain seemed to be everywhere; tending Gwyn in the fields behind the tavern, in the tavern, at the immense structure taking shape at the headland, atop Crown Peak and learning how to operate the machine which watchkeepers had designated ‘Urman’s Graken-bow’. If not in those places, then riding the perimeter to see for himself the extent of the settlement’s growth, and stopping to talk with all those he met.

  Evenings were spent in the hall, seated as close to the hearth as the conflagrations built therein by Arbo allowed, talking with Elayeen and Allazar, and other friends. Nights, of course, were spent entirely alone with Elayeen, he listening to all the gossip accumulated in the months of his absence and occasionally practicing the expression Rak had taught him, but mostly not needing to such was his delight in Elayeen’s joyful recounting of entirely domestic events.

  A homecoming feast was held, and it too was a happy affair, it being wisely decided that a recounting of all the events of their journey would best be told afterwards so as not to spoil the mood. Thus it was two days after the feast that a gathering was held in the hall, and a full accounting given. For Allazar and Corax, the details provided by Gawain’s extraordinary memory of the Hallencloister and Sardor Eljon’s courageous suffering were painful, and many were the tears shed by many of those who listened that night.

  Events at Hellin’s Hall were described in detail, too, and great was the shock of all in Last Ridings on learning the extent of the Toorseneth’s grip there. Gawain, for the sake of Allazar, glossed over the harsher details of Eldenbeard’s actions in the Castletown, for which Allazar seemed a little grateful, but the recounting of the Hallencloister filled the wizards with great melancholy which was not easily lifted.

  Dwarves were pleased to learn that all was well in their homeland and the people there untroubled since Morloch’s appearance at Tarn the previous year, and all sat wide-eyed when Gawain and Ognorm told of the battle of widow’s peak hill, and agog at their descriptions of the battle of the binding and Morloch’s part in it. Those wide eyes became wet with tears when the hall learned of Venderrian’s loss, and features set grim and approving when subsequent vengeance was described, the killer ended, and then the elfwizards of the Toorseneth destroyed in accordance with natural justice.

  Finally came a brief accounting of the ending of the Seekmaw and Ranger Kiran’s part in it, the ranger yet on patrol but others of elfkind in the hall appreciating Gawain’s acknowledgement of Kiran’s skills in stalking the beast and loosing what would have been a fatal shot moments before Allazar’s fire annihilated the immense creature.

  Then, at the end of the tale’s telling, Gawain astonished many of them when he declared that in truth, he could foresee no need for his leaving Last Ridings for some considerable time to come. The worms, he declared, those infamous worms of his, were ended. Now was the time for building, regrouping, planning for the future, and doing what could be done to make ready for any eventuality, as Raheen always had been.

  The times ahead, he told them, were uncertain, and though Last Ridings was far too small on its own to take responsibility for all the lands around them, it could take responsibility for the Oath all rangers had taken, and work as best they could towards the making of a reality from the ideal held by the words Friyenheth, Ceartus, Omniumde.

  Later that night, alone in their apartments, Gawain and Elayeen sat in a large chair wrapped in a colourful blanket, she on his lap, he marvelling at the weight and size of her as he had since his return, and remaining unconvinced of her robustness in spite of her frequent protests that she was neither fragile nor ill.

  “Did you mean what you said, G’wain? About not leaving Last Ridings now?”

  “Of course. Where would I go?”

  “I have always feared you would charge with sword drawn along the Morrentill and into the very heart of the Toorseneth.”

  “You’ve forbidden me to do that, remember?”

  “Yes I did, but I know enough now of the horse-kings of yore to know that my forbidding of something and your obeying such a command are two completely different matters.”

  “True,” Gawain agreed happily, idly stroking her hair, “But I honestly believe I am needed here now more than my blade is needed at the Toorseneth. Besides, I have seen with my own eyes a battle wizard unleashed upon an enemy of common strength, and the chaos and destruction which ensued. The Toorseneth does not abide by the old rules of Zaine and his mandates. Nor now, I think, will those wizards of the D’ith who have survived to learn of the destruction of their Hallencloister. Against a tower filled with wizards, I would have no chance at all.”

  “No,” she sighed. “I am glad. I do not think I could bear it if you left again so soon.”

  “Me too,” he smiled, and kissed her, “Which is as it should be, after all.”

  “Yet I fear as soon as a call for aid comes, you will leap upon Gwyn’s back and ride into danger, and I shall be left alone again, wondering alone in the night whether you will return to me. To us.”

  “No,” Gawain sighed, feeling a new and unexpected calm billowing through him when he uttered the word. “The world has changed, E. Juria stands on the brink of civil uprising as does Elvendere. Juria is occupied by forces of the Toorseneth, as is Elvendere. The major difference is, of course, that Jurians know only too well the treachery of Toorsen’s creed and will not tolerate occupation by unwelcome forces for long. It’s also possible that the same is becoming true in the forest, too. I have no business in Elvendere or in Juria. They must wrench their own destinies from Toorsen’s dead grip. What calls may come now I think will be for the Kindred Rangers to answer.”

  “In truth?”

  “I think so. The Creed have neither resources nor influence enough to persuade Thallanhall to war, and conquest is not their goal. They simply want wizardkind extinct, and to that end will send Seekmaw and Grimmand and whatever else they can employ in their hunt for their whitebearded quarry. It’ll fall to the Sighted rangers to seek out and destroy such creatures. In truth, E, that Seekmaw we encountered was almost upon us, and but for Gwyn’s senses would have had Allazar’s head in its jaws had not we been alerted first to Kiran’s presence. A wizard alone would have stood no chance. Kiran showed me
that night how best Last Ridings and the rangers may serve the kindred in the months, perhaps years, to come.”

  “And wizardkind? What will become of them? Will Allazar build a new Hallencloister here?”

  “I do not think so. He is, like you and I, bound by the duties inflicted by the circles. I am not certain there will be another Hallencloister, not of the kind there once was. You should know, E,” Gawain suddenly whispered, “You should know that I finally understand the sadness I have seen in you and in Valin, and Meeya, and others. I understand the verse of the Arathalaneer, the one Venderrian told us of when we were in the north.”

  “Which verse?” Elayeen whispered, and shivered in spite of the blanket and the warmth of the hall and Gawain’s embrace.

  “Dark days old are come, dark days new are born, in war and strife and rising dread, dark days new are born, and shadows, ‘til arrives the reaper.”

  He felt her head nodding against his shoulder, and kissed the top of her head.

  “Time has caught up with us, G’wain.”

  “Then it shouldn’t be surprised if I rip off its arm and beat it to death with its own hand. We have endured more suffering than any eldenbeard had a right to expect. I do not intend simply to bow my head and kneel to some crypt-dweller dead for millennia. We shall live our lives, Elayeen, together, and we shall raise our children as our own. They shall be what they themselves wish to be. From us, and from our friends, they shall learn the strength and power of love, and friendship, nobility, honour and grace; they’ll learn all the lessons we can teach them, so that whatever possesses stupidity enough to rise up against them shall know brief terror in the moments before an abrupt ending. Be it Morloch, eldenbeards or ToorsenViell or creatures of the Pangoricon, those who dare disturb the peace of Last Ridings and its friends shall rue the day they did so.”