The Longsword Chronicles: Book 01 - King of Ashes

by GJ Kelly

  The patrol parted, and another elfin stepped forward from the gloom. Gawain recognised her immediately.

  "Traveller. You know me?" she said, eyes wide with fear and worry.

  "I do. I saw you with Elayeen when last I was here."

  "I am...thalangard?"

  "A royal honour-guard." Gawain said.

  "Yes. I am Meeya, thalangard, eem frith am Elayeen-thalin."

  "Where is she?"

  Anxiety seemed to flood over the honour-guard's face. "Elayeen-thalin awaits faranthroth... judgement is being passed."

  "Take me there now."

  Again she looked pained, and seemed to be struggling for the words. She glanced around helplessly, and the others offered words that Gawain did not recognise. "This is...we call this province...Elvenheth...it is our heart? Where our king lives?"

  "Castle town." Gawain mumbled, "Your capitol, your heartland?"

  "Yes! Thal-Hak is here, and Thalin-Reeyan."

  "Meeya. I don't care about Elvendere or his queen. Take me to Elayeen. Now."

  "I cannot! Humans are not permitted."

  Gawain's eyes flashed in an instant. "Take me there now or I will hack down every tree and every elf until I find her myself!"

  The first elfin patrol officer fired off a short burst of impassioned speech, and there was a chorus of "Aye's" from the others. None, it seemed, were prepared to do battle with the warrior that had slain six of Morloch's black riders, and certainly not now with his terrifying eyes glowing black, turning his threat into a visible promise.

  Meeya nodded once, and began running. Less than a heartbeat later Gawain was racing after her.

  He caught glimpses of startled faces, and it grew brighter. Above them, the sky was clearing, revealing weak blue through rents in the puffy dark clouds. It was afternoon, and here and there weak shafts of sunshine lanced through the leafy canopy.

  They were running through what was obviously the central province of Elvendere. Above them, elven dwellings woven into the trees. Around them, elves stepping back, gasping at the sight of the black-eyed warrior and the battle-horse trotting behind him as they raced after a royal honour-guard. A few even shouted in alarm.

  Gawain did not care. Aquamire rage fuelled his fear, pumped the blood through his veins, charged him with strength, one purpose, one thought. Elayeen. He was vaguely aware of Gwyn snorting warnings behind him, but the warnings weren't intended for him; they were directed at other elven warriors that would step out into their path, or give chase. They did not. Everywhere, there was a sense of profound loss, of tragedy, of pity...and that simply served to give fresh urgency to Gawain's legs.

  "How far?" He cried.

  "Soon!" Meeya called back, and within moments, at a small clearing ringed by massive trees, she came to a halt, breathing hard.

  "Where?" Gawain demanded. Then he looked hard at the elfin guard. He noted the braid in her hair, and then noted her breathing. She was sobbing, not gasping for breath because of the run. She shook her head, and choked back a reply, and then advanced through the massive tree-trunks.

  Gawain followed, and found himself in another circular clearing, this one filled with low benches facing a raised mound on which a throne rested. The clearing was empty.

  "Too late!" Meeya gasped, her eyes brimming with tears, "Mifrith Elayeen! Too late!"

  Gawain grabbed Meeya's slender arm, harshly, and yanked her around to face him. Her dark eyes were wide with fear, but not fear of Gawain. It was fear for her friend, Elayeen. And grief.

  "Where have they taken her?"

  "Faranthroth. Judgement has been made." Meeya choked, and pointed a finger to the west. "It is too late."

  "No." Gawain asserted. "Lead the way."

  But Meeya shook her head. "Nai, I cannot, it is death!"

  "Hai Gwyn!" Gawain called, and the horse snorted. "Find Elayeen, Gwyn. Show me."

  Gwyn snorted again, eyes wide, and trotted across the clearing, heading west. West, through the mighty trunks that formed the perimeter of this curious clearing. Gawain followed, and thought he heard Meeya follow a few paces and then drop back.

  Gwyn found a track of sorts, a kind of avenue between rows of trees. Unlike the rest of Elvendere, which had seemed well-tended and managed, this track seemed overgrown, weedblown, seldom used. At once, Gwyn let out a whinny and thundered off down the track, Gawain sprinting behind her. Sunshine lit the sky and flashed through great gaps in the canopy as Gwyn extended her lead, galloping, hooves thundering...

  The track rounded a bend, and Gwyn was suddenly lost from sight. Gawain heard her terrible whinnying, that familiar and awesome battle-cry of hers, and as he reached the bend, he slowed to a walk, breathing hard, his hand reaching up over his shoulder to grip the hilt of the longsword and draw it forth, aquamire energy crackling deep within the steel.

  When he rounded the bend, he stopped dead in his tracks. A large group of elves stood pressed back against trees while Gwyn pranced at the centre of yet another clearing. She reared up on her hind legs, blue eyes blazing, kicking the air, whinnying in outrage, keeping the terrified elves at bay.

  "Hai. Gwyn." Gawain called softly, and at once she calmed, eyeing the elves threateningly and backing away as Gawain strode into the circle.

  "You!" A harsh and familiar voice cried.

  Gwyn snorted, and backed away further. And Gawain saw clearly what had outraged the horse so. A circle of white stones, their surface etched with strange symbols, placed at intervals between saplings, and in the centre of the circle, laying on the ground, wearing only her calfskin boots, green calfskin skirt and tunic, Elayeen. Already the saplings seemed to be bending over towards her, and from above, from older trees, vines and creepers slowly reaching down...

  "Traveller!" another voice called. Gan. Gwyn whinnied, and in the circle of faranthroth, Elayeen stirred, barely, but enough to show Gawain that his worst fears had yet to be realised.

  A muted gasp went up at that.

  "You!" the harsh and familiar voice called again. "It is forbidden for humans to enter Elvenheth!"

  Gawain merely stood there, his eyes fixed on Elayeen. He knew who it was that had spoken. The whitebeard, the one that had wished him gone from Elvendere. The one that had shadowed Elayeen, forbidden her to speak of throth...the one Gawain had sworn to cleave in two, one day...

  "Elayeen." Gawain called softly.

  "Be gone, DarkSlayer!" The wizard shouted, and in spite of Gwyn's prancing, moved forward. "It is death to enter Elvenheth! It is death to cross the runes into faranthroth!"

  Black rage bubbled and broke within Gawain, rising to a crescendo that cried out for destruction. But then it subsided, held in check. Gawain was master of it. Inside the circle of stones and saplings, Elayeen had stirred once more. Gawain called her name again, softly, and with obvious effort, her head rose a little, and her eyes flickered open.

  Gawain was stunned. While behind him, elves gathered in a tight semi-circle, held at bay by his horse, before him, Elayeen's eyes met his. She looked dreadful, almost as vacant and vacuous as the Ramoth servants. Her features were sallow and gaunt, her hair lank and matted, and the effort of raising her head from the cold ground in the centre of faranthroth was almost too much for her. But her lips moved, and though he couldn't hear the word for the sound of the wizard screaming oaths behind him, Gawain felt sure that the word she'd tried to speak was 'mithroth'.

  "Be gone from here, DarkSlayer! Judgement has been made and cannot be revoked! None may cross the runes!"

  Gawain sighed, his eyes wide with agony and rage. That Elayeen should have suffered so, wasted away so, and all because of him. And because of whitebeards, and the kings that heeded whitebeard advice. Rage, because there was only one way that the elven wizard could have known the name 'DarkSlayer'.

  He spun on his heel, and with a single careless flick of his longsword, ripped open the wizard's robes. A great gasp went up as the cloth parted and fell to the ground, exposing the wizard's torso and ar
ms. Strange symbols were tattooed all over the man's body, linked to form garish swirling patterns. And hanging from a slender chain around the wizard's neck, a tiny crystal lens, black with aquamire, a miniature version of the massive Ramoth Eye that Gawain had destroyed in the Teeth.

  "I told you to hold your breath for my return, whitebeard scum. You should have heeded me." Gawain rasped, and then with a crackling whoosh, the longsword's blade scythed through the air, slashing down, ripping the terrified wizard in two from left shoulder to right hip, shattering the aquamire lens. The whitebeard fell silently, steam rising from the gaping wound in the chill winter air.

  Gawain glanced briefly at the gathered elves. Gan he recognised, and a few others. A tall elf, splendidly dressed, stood with his arm around a woman who's features closely resembled Elayeen's, circlets of gold holding back their black-streaked hair. Then he spun around, advanced to the circle of faranthroth, and screaming Elayeen's name, swung the blade again.

  As black steel smashed into the saplings, blinding light blasted skyward from the rune-etched stones on the ground. Gawain felt a jolt of something but ignored it, the blade scything onward, slicing through four of the slender trees before completing its dreadful arc. Leaves fell, wood groaned, and with a great shuddering rustle, the saplings slowly toppled backwards, and fell around Gawain, leaving a broad opening into the circle of faranthroth.

  Gawain strode forward without hesitation, and from somewhere behind him he heard Gan, and surprisingly, Meeya, calling out his old name, Traveller.

  But nothing happened when he crossed the runestones, sheathing his mighty blade. In less than twenty paces, he was kneeling before Elayeen, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch her hair. She stirred a little, but was too weak to move. Gently, Gawain lifted her head, cradling her in the crook of his arm as he brushed grass and dirt from her cheek.

  "Elayeen," he whispered, "Elayeen."

  Her eyelids fluttered and opened, and he gazed down into her eyes. Only the faintest spark burned in them, separated her expression from the empty lifeless gaze of a Ramoth acolyte.

  "Elayeen.” Gawain sighed, holding her tighter, caressing her brow.

  "Mithroth?" she whispered. "I come. Wait for me?"

  "No, Elayeen!" Gawain gasped, and clutched her to him. "I live! I am here! Come back to me!"

  "You live?" she whispered, the spark in her eyes flaring just a little.

  Tears slipped from Gawain's dark eyes as he caressed her brow and rocked her gently back and forth. "Yes, Elayeen mithroth, I live! I live, and so must you! So must you!"

  A faint sigh escaped her lips, and she smiled weakly, and sank her head into his chest. For a moment, Gawain's heart lurched, but he could feel her breathing. He gathered her into his cloak and swept her up off the ground, and gasped when his hand touched the bare skin of her thigh. She was freezing cold. Anger, and fear, and a terrible resolve flooded through Gawain like an aquamire blast as he turned to face the elves, still standing outside the circle of faranthroth, still held at bay by Gwyn.

  Gawain strode forward, his eyes blazing black, Elayeen held tightly to him beneath his cloak.

  "That which you have discarded," he spat towards the King of Elvendere, "I claim as my own." Then he turned his dread gaze upon the surviving wizard, who stood next to the king. "And this I swear, by my blade. If Elayeen dies, I shall fell every tree in this miserable forest until I find you, whitebeard, and bathe in the blood of you and all your kind for what you have done!"

  Gwyn whinnied, and stamped on the frozen ground.

  "Gwyn," Gawain said softly, menacingly, "Kill any that move to interfere."

  The great horse's head bobbed, and she stepped forward, forcing the elves further back against the trees.

  "Mithroth?" Elayeen sighed in her sleep.

  Gawain glanced down at her. "Yes, mithroth, it is I. I live, and so shall you.” And drawing her closer, he strode away down the track that led from that awful place, Meeya and Gan hurrying behind him, and Gwyn some paces beyond, blue eyes ever watchful.

  When they reached Elvenheth, Gawain paused, and eyed the fearful elves that held each other close and watched from behind trees.

  "This way." Meeya announced, pointing.

  Gawain paused.

  "Please." Gan said urgently.

  Gawain followed the thalangard as she led the way, through trees and clearings, and finally up a grand and winding stairway woven into the branches of massive silvertrees.

  "This is Elayeen's room, here in Elvenheth." Gan said softly.

  Meeya parted a heavy skin door, and Gawain stepped inside. It was cold, and dark, and the thalangard rushed to lift the shutters of glowstone lamps that hung from sconces around the room. It was small, and but for the cold would have seemed comfortable and not ostentatious. A large bed of skins lay in the far corner, and Gawain strode forward to it.

  As he sank to the bed, keeping Elayeen held tightly to him and wrapped in his cloak, he glanced up at the thalangard. "Bring heat, and food."

  Meeya nodded once, and looked to Gan, who nodded too, and she hurried from the room.

  "Friend Traveller..." Gan began, his face a picture of anguish and relief, but Gawain silenced him with a dark look.

  "I tell you this, Gan-thal. If anyone but you or Meeya approach these rooms, if anyone should hinder me, or stand in the way of Elayeen's recovery...I shall burn all Elvendere to ashes. Raheen will seem more welcoming than this place when I am done."

  Gan shuddered, and started when the curtain door parted and Meeya entered, bearing two large cauldrons. Gawain watched while the elfin placed the cauldrons in the centre of the room, lifted their lids, and then poured an oily liquid onto the stones they contained. There was a whooshing, and heat ballooned from the cauldrons, the stones burning with an invisible flame.

  "Word came that you had been slain, in Juria.” Gan said softly. "The wizard you slew, he confirmed it. Until then, Elayeen bore the athroth as best she could, but after...” Gan trailed off, his hands trembling.

  Gawain held Elayeen closer, caressing her face as he sank back onto the pile of skins. "Meeya."

  "Yes?"

  "Stand guard. No-one but you or Gan enters this room without dying a heartbeat later. No-one."

  "Yes."

  "Gan?"

  "Traveller?"

  "Tell the people not to approach Gwyn. She stands guard below. You may tend her if you wish."

  "I shall."

  "Now leave us."

  The two elves departed in silence, exchanging fearful glances, yet they felt relief too. Relief that there was yet hope for Elayeen.

  Gawain held her close, her head on his shoulder as heat filled the room, and he whispered her name, over and over, and told her he was alive, and that she must live too. The only reply he received was her gentle breathing, and for him, as he caressed her head, it was enough.

  oOo

  25. Exile

  For two days and nights Gawain held her to him, leaving her side only for the briefest times when nature demanded it. Each time he drew away from her, she sighed painfully in her sleep, and each time he returned to the bed to gather her up in his arms, she sighed contentedly.

  Once, Meeya crept quietly into the room, to bring fresh food and to pour more oily liquid upon the stones in their cauldrons, bringing fresh heat to the quarters. She cast a lingering glance towards her sleeping friend, and Gawain nodded gently that all seemed well.

  "You must hold her close," Meeya whispered, "so that she can hear your heart, and know you live."

  Gawain nodded, and when Meeya had left, he gently unbuttoned his tunic and shirt, moving the fabric aside and laying Elayeen's head upon his bare chest, and the palm of her hand over his breast. He closed his eyes, hoping that somehow she would draw strength from him this way, that his heart would beat new life and vigour into hers while he held her hand and caressed her hair.

  On the third morning, while she lay with her head upon his chest and he whispered her
name, she stirred a little. It was no more than a gentle flexing of muscles, but soon after he felt her eyelids flutter on his chest. Still he held her hand pressed against his breast, and still he softly spoke her name, and told her he lived, and that she must too.

  She lay quietly, listening to his gentle words, and her breathing grew stronger. At length, her eyes still closed, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper, yet her words thrilled him more than any battle-cry.

  "Mithroth?" she whispered. "Is this then the yonderlife?"

  "No, my Lady Elayeen. This is not the yonderlife. I live, as do you."

  She sighed, and nestled closer to him, drawing up her leg so that it rested across his. "You live, mithroth. They said you were dead."

  "I live. And the one who lied does not. You are safe, my precious Elayeen, I shall never leave you."

  "Never?"

  "Never. Had I known...I would never have left you."

  "You came back...for me?"

  "Yes. As I promised I would."

  "If you were able. I remember. I tried so hard to be strong for you, mithroth, so that you would be proud of me when you returned. I tried so hard...but they said you were slain..."

  Gawain felt warm tears on his chest, and he held her closer still. "Hush, mithroth," he whispered in the gloom of the glowstones, "I am here."

  He felt her draw in a deep and shuddering breath and then let it out in a long sigh as she relaxed. A few moments later, her hand slipped from under his, sliding up to his shoulder.

  "I hear my heart beating in your breast..." Elayeen sighed, and slept again.

  She was still sleeping deeply when, as afternoon sunshine knifed through a tiny crack in the curtains, the door was pushed aside, and Gan stepped softly into the room.

  Gawain eyed him, and his glance flickered down to Elayeen. Gan nodded, and crept closer.

  "Traveller...I have news." Gan whispered, his face sombre, but his eyes filled with relief when he saw how contentedly his sister slept.

  "News?"