The Longsword Chronicles: Book 01 - King of Ashes

by GJ Kelly

  While he lay there, listening to birdsong and muted laughter and snatches of soft music, Gawain remembered, and the cool fingers continued to caress his brow.

  "Elayeen?" he whispered, his voice cracked, throat sore.

  "Hush, Traveller," a high soft voice replied, and even the words were cooling, and seemed to caress his aching head.

  "Elayeen." he whispered once more.

  "Yes." the sweet voice said.

  Gawain smiled, and slept.

  When he awoke, some time later, Elayeen was there, sitting beside him, stroking his brow.

  "Eem frith am Gan-thal." Gawain tried to say, but his voice was still cracked and hoarse, and he smiled at the feeble sounds.

  Elayeen smiled down at him, her long silver-blonde hair inches from his face. "Yes, Traveller, you are friend to my brother. And to me."

  Gawain tried to reach up, but his hands would not move. A brief surge of panic flooded through him and he struggled to move, any part of his body, but he could not.

  "Peace, Traveller," Elayeen urged, "You have been ill. It will take time to recover."

  The gentleness in her voice and the sincerity in her eyes reassured Gawain, and he ceased his vain struggle against paralysis. The elfin smile he received when the tension and fear drained from his eyes was like a cool breeze on a summer's day, and Gawain smiled back.

  "How long?" he croaked.

  "Many days and nights. Now hush, and rest."

  Gawain closed his eyes, and Elayeen began humming, a soft and strange tune, like a mother crooning to her child as she stroked his brow. Gawain felt peace wash over him, and slept once more.

  When next he awoke he felt stronger, his mind clearer. There was dull yellow light in the room, seeming to come from nowhere, and he could see no lamps. But Elayeen was there, sitting beside the bed of soft skins and furs upon which he lay.

  Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing softly, one slender hand upon the bed next to his. Gawain flexed his fingers, and found they could move. It was an effort, and his arm felt heavy when he eased it across the top of the blanket so that his fingers brushed hers.

  Elayeen's eyes flicked open, and she smiled, and took his hand in hers.

  "Welcome, Traveller." she whispered.

  "Elayeen." he said, his voice quiet, but familiar now that his throat seemed to have recovered.

  "I…we thought you lost."

  "I should be dead. Elve's Blood, on the point which struck me…"

  "You are strong," she smiled, "Stronger than our healers imagined. They thought you would not survive the first night. Our wizards say you have a powerful purpose indeed, to keep you in this world."

  Flashes of memory, of a white ashen wasteland, pressed in on Gawain, but he dismissed them. This was not the time, nor the place, to recall such horrors.

  "How long have I been here?"

  "It is seven and twenty nights since your battle at the edge of our forest."

  Gawain's eyes widened in shock. "So long?"

  Elayeen nodded, her glorious eyes never leaving his.

  Gawain studied her in the strange light, and saw the tiredness in her.

  "You have stayed with me," he gasped, "All this time."

  The elfin smiled. "I could not leave you, it might have been a long time before your friends came for you. The least I could for your not stabbing me that day was bring you back to the world."

  Gawain smiled back, remembering the first time he'd seen her. "How could I have harmed you?"

  She blinked, and smiled, and then turned her head and called softly "See-eelan."

  There was a rustling as a heavy skin curtain was parted, and a slender elf wearing a concerned expression appeared beside Elayeen. She spoke to him briefly in her own language, and he with her, and then the man reached down to feel Gawain's pulse at his neck, and his brow.

  The healer spoke again, smiled at Gawain, and left the room.

  "Am I to live, then?" he asked.

  "Yes, Traveller, you are to live."

  Gawain saw a brightness in her eyes, a strange mixture of joy and sadness, but the smile and the tenderness of her touch seemed somehow to stem the question forming on his lips. For the moment, at least, he would be content.

  "You should sleep, Elayeen." He whispered. "You look tired."

  "I shall, when you do. Now that the danger has passed."

  "Gwyn…" Gawain suddenly remembered, and made as if to sit up.

  "Is well, and well tended. The children adore her, and are caring for her like a beloved pet."

  "My sword?"

  Elayeen's eyes clouded briefly. "Is here, not far from your arm. It is heavy, and few would touch it."

  "You brought it here though." Gawain knew, instinctively.

  "I did." The elfin shuddered. "I thought it important to you."

  "It is. Thank you."

  "No thanks are needed."

  "Yes, Elayeen, they are. You have given me back my life."

  The curious sadness seemed to wash over her again, and she looked down at his hand in hers. As she tilted her head, Gawain caught sight of something he had not noticed before. There was a streak of black in the long silver-blonde hair, running the length of it from above her right brow.

  "What troubles you, my lady?" Gawain whispered, gently squeezing her hand.

  "You will leave Elvendere when you are well?"

  "I must."

  She nodded, knowing the answer before he spoke it, and when she looked up into his eyes again the sadness shining deep within the hazel-green was profound.

  "But," Gawain smiled, "I fear that may be some time. I don't seem to be able to move my legs."

  "It will pass quickly."

  His brother's words rang in his ears, an unbidden memory…"Not for some considerable time, I hope!” and Gawain closed his eyes, hoping to keep a tight hold of the warmth and contentment that seemed to flow like a river from Elayeen's hand into his.

  But the elfin was right. The next time he awoke he had full command of his aching body again, and could sit up unaided. He was growing stronger, and able to eat. A day after that, the healers came, and two elven whitebeards. The latter, he did not welcome. They eyed him with a mixture of cold disdain and fear, and as soon as the healers had made their pronouncements as to his health, the wizards spoke long and harshly to Elayeen.

  Seeing her spoken to in such a manner fired the embers glowing within him, and a familiar cold anger began to spread in his chest. Seeing her obviously defer to the whitebeards' instructions simply reminded Gawain of the world beyond Elvendere, and his heart began to harden again.

  When the whitebeards left with the healers, Gan entered the room. He looked at Elayeen as one would regard a dying friend, and then his gaze flickered to Gawain.

  "Traveller. You are well?"

  "I am recovering, friend Gan."

  "Then the wizards are right, Elayeen. It is neither seemly nor necessary for you to remain here."

  "But brother…"

  "Elayeen." Gan responded firmly, but with great compassion.

  The elfin sighed, and looked once more upon Gawain, and he saw pain and yearning in her eyes before she smiled, and left the room.

  "You must understand," Gan said quietly, "It is not seemly for Elayeen to remain, now that you are able to tend to your own needs."

  "I do not understand, friend Gan, but if these are your customs, I shall respect them. Am I forbidden then to speak with her, even outside these walls?"

  Gan looked mortified. "Of course not! You may speak with anyone you wish! But…it is not seemly for my sister to remain by your side here, now that you are stronger."

  Gawain nodded. "The whitebeards spoke harshly."

  "Whitebeards?"

  "Wizards."

  "Ah. You speak our language?"

  "No. But I have heard enough of it to know the difference between gentle tones, and crueller ones."

  Gan seemed momentarily distressed, and fought some internal struggle for a
few moments before replying. "We have a duty," was all he said in response.

  "As do I."

  Gan hesitated, and again Gawain could see the young elf was struggling against unknown orders. "You will leave soon?"

  "Am I no longer welcome?"

  "You are welcome, friend Traveller."

  "I must leave soon. You have been told of the dark riders who wounded me thus?"

  Gan nodded, and frowned. "The scouts reported your terrible battle."

  "That is why I must leave as soon as I can. Those creatures were sent against me by Morloch, or so the whitebeards say. In this, and this alone, I believe them. If I remain, more will come, and I would not bring such destruction into Elvendere."

  "No more have been sighted. Our scouts range the length of Elvendere as far north as our lands extend. No more of these dark riders have been seen."

  "Yet they will come."

  "Perhaps. But you need not speed your departure on their account. Take time, regain your strength. If Morloch has loosed such forces against you, you shall need it."

  Gawain turned his head, and regarded the longsword propped against the wall beside the head of his bed. When he turned to Gan again, he saw the elf shiver.

  "Until the morning, then." Gan announced, and left Gawain alone.

  Strange people, Gawain thought, but when he closed his eyes and settled, it was the yearning in elfin eyes that won the battle between memories and guided him to sleep.

  Dawn the next day found Gawain dressed, and with the longsword slung over his shoulder. His muscles ached appallingly, and the wound in his right thigh where the crossbow bolt had struck him was sharply painful when he stood.

  The bolt had passed through his leg at an acute angle, the entry and exit wounds about an inch apart when Gawain lifted the bandages and pads to satisfy his own morbid curiosity. Perhaps that had saved him, he didn't know. If the poisoned point had remained buried deep in his flesh…

  When Gawain lifted the heavy curtain door aside, he was surprised to find himself standing on a small walkway overlooking the forest floor some twenty feet below him. A loud and familiar whinny shattered the morning stillness, and he glanced across the clearing to where Gwyn stood prancing happily, her head bobbing.

  Gawain smiled at the horse, and then a rare chuckle escaped his throat.

  The elven children had indeed tended her well. Her mane shone, as did the coloured ribbons and threads woven and braided into it and her tail. But her blue eyes sparkled happily, and as the first rays of the sun bathed the forest in warming light, Gawain turned his face to it, and thanked The Fallen for both Gwyn and for himself.

  By the time he'd eased himself down the stairway woven into the tree's branches, children were already slipping down ropes, giggling, and racing to Gwyn. The horse was behaving more like a playful kitten or a puppy, prancing and bobbing her head, snuffling at the children and swishing her tail like a dog.

  Gawain grimaced with pain and mock disdain at the animal's antics.

  A long table in the clearing below the overhead walkway was being laid with food by several elves, and they greeted Gawain politely and invited him to sit. He did so gratefully, every muscle in his body protesting spitefully.

  Gan slid gracefully down a rope on the far side of the clearing, and then paused in surprise when he saw Gawain at the table. He strode across the clearing, and sat opposite the warrior, eyeing the hilt of the longsword with a mixture of curiosity and awe.

  "Good day, Traveller."

  "Good day, Gan. There is a chill in the air this morning."

  "I had not noticed." Gan announced, concerned, "Perhaps you should have waited another day before rising?"

  "No. I cannot lay a-bed while all around me are enjoying the sunshine. Tell me, friend Gan, I have lost track of time, is autumn upon us?"

  "Not yet, though the silvertrees make their preparations for that season."

  Gawain glanced around the glade, but all was green and lush. No sign of red and gold, or browning leaves. He sighed, gratefully. Summer this year was a long one. Perhaps winter would not be fierce this year.

  Softer footfalls drew Gawain's attention, and he glanced to his left. Elayeen, her hair shimmering in the morning light, strode towards them, her eyes wide and fixed on Gawain's. She looked every bit as beautiful as the first night he'd seen her.

  "Good day, Traveller." she said sweetly, approaching the table.

  Gawain started to struggle to his feet, but Elayeen hurried to place a hand on his shoulder.

  "You are about too soon, I fear." She said, easing him back onto the bench seat.

  "I have become unused to my own company of late, my lady Elayeen." Gawain replied as she sat next to him, and earned a curious glance from Gan.

  "Still, you should not rush your recovery. The see-eelan will not be pleased."

  "The see-eelan?"

  "My apologies. The healers."

  "Ah."

  "You have seen your horse?" Elayeen asked.

  "Yes."

  "I hope you are not offended, the children are fond of her."

  "No, I am not offended. I am more grateful than you could know that she has been so well tended."

  While they ate, Gawain became acutely aware that he was being studied by all around him. Elayeen seemed to be trying to hide the small glances she cast his way. Gan was frank in studying not only Gawain, but also his sister. Other elves at table gazed at the warrior with a mixture of curiosity and awe; they'd heard of his ferocious battle on the grasslands at the edge of their forest.

  But it was the two elven whitebeards, loitering at the edge of the clearing, who regarded Gawain with obvious hostility. It rankled. Their dark looks cast a pall on the warmth of the morning, and the closeness Gawain felt to those around him.

  "This is the glade to which I brought you, my lady, so long ago? I scarcely recognise it."

  "It is. We are some distance south from where you fell. There is another province north of where you did battle, but our scouts brought you straight here."

  "I must thank them."

  "There is no need," Gan announced, pushing away his plate, "And besides, they patrol to the west now, and are not of this province."

  "Your name commands respect, friend Gan." Gawain fished, wondering at the elf's official standing.

  Gan flicked a quick glance at Elayeen and then at the distant whitebeards before answering. It was not lost on Gawain.

  "I am…thal, of this province."

  "Then honour to you, Gan-thal." Gawain smiled, his regal inscrutability coming to the fore.

  "Thank you." Gan acknowledged, and then stood. "I have duties. We will speak later."

  And with that, he left, with a final glance at his sister.

  Gawain saw that she had finished her breakfast, and was about to speak when movement caught his eye. One of the whitebeards at the edge of the glade was walking away, following Gan. The other remained, glaring at Elayeen and Gawain.

  "I should like to try and walk a little," Gawain smiled.

  "So soon?" she asked, her eyes sparkling in the sunshine.

  "My muscles are killing me. The only cure for that is exercise. Will you walk with me, my lady, and show me your home?"

  She smiled, and her eyes seemed to glow. "Yes, but only for a short time. You should not tax yourself so soon."

  "Just around the glade then. And I should greet Gwyn. If I don't tell her how ugly she is from time to time, she becomes vain. All those ribbons and braids will probably make her impossible."

  Elayeen frowned. "Shall I tell the children to remove them, then?"

  "No," Gawain chuckled, "Forgive me. I have had little practice with humour lately, and it was a poor attempt."

  Elayeen stared at him. "Yes. You have suffered much since last we met."

  Gawain shrugged, trying to force the terrible memories away, but the only way to do so was to attempt to rise from the bench, and allow the pains and aches to do battle for his attention. They won.
/>
  Elayeen assisted him as best she could, and slipped her arm through his before they set off, walking very slowly, across the glade.

  Gawain glanced down, and noted that she'd braided the black strands in her hair, so that the lustrous strands hung like a Raheen bowstring.

  "Do you wish to rest?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

  "No. I was trying to remember. I am sure there was no black in your hair when first we met."

  "You studied me so closely then?"

  Gawain felt a warm flush, something he hadn't felt in long time. "I did, my lady."

  Elayeen smiled. "You are correct. This mark is recent."

  "Mark?"

  Elayeen frowned, as if struggling to find the right words. "It shows I am become Ithroth."

  "I don't understand. What is Ithroth?"

  Elayeen gazed up at him, and again he saw the strange mixture of yearning and sadness. She was about to speak, and it seemed to Gawain that a thousand words would flood from her lips, but a harsh voice rasped across the glade.

  "Elayeen-thalin!"

  Her head snapped around, and she stared at the wizard glowering at her. Then she cast her eyes downward, as if ashamed.

  Gawain tensed, ignoring the aches and twinges that shuddered through him. He too glared at the wizard, as if to say "You are close to offending me, whitebeard, very very close."

  The wizard held his gaze for a few moments, but then broke the contact.

  "I do not like whitebeards." Gawain said softly.

  "Nor I." Elayeen whispered, and when she looked up, there was pain, and ineffable sorrow in her glistening eyes.

  oOo

  15. Parting

  Days passed, and Gawain clung to Elayeen as she did to him. Gawain did not know why the elfin seemed so happy to be with him, yet so terribly sad at the same time. He knew why he looked forward to her company though. Looking into those large hazel-green eyes kept the memories of Raheen, and Ramoths, at bay.

  Elvendere was every bit as serene as his homeland once was. No wonder the elves guarded it so jealously. They didn't have the geographical advantages of a high and impregnable plateau to shield them from the rest of the downland world.