The Longsword Chronicles: Book 01 - King of Ashes

by GJ Kelly

  On familiar territory, Gwyn dug deep into her reserves, catching up with the patrol before they reached easier going at the outskirts of Tarn. The road was lit with flaming brands, and a crowd had formed in the square, torches marking a clear path that led straight to Rak's house. All of Tarn, it seemed, were out that night, to welcome and clear the way for Traveller, and his Lady.

  When at last Gwyn came to a halt outside the familiar stone-built home of Lord Rak of Tarn, Gawain sighed, and looked over his shoulder at the townspeople, already making their quiet ways home. Tears streaked his cheeks.

  A flood of light suddenly washed over him as the first new snow began to fall. Rak and Merrin, and behind them, Allazar, stood in the doorway, beckoning him down. Gawain's muscles ached as he carefully dismounted, his back and arms stiff from holding Elayeen so long. A page hurried forward, and led Gwyn away around the side of the house to the stables, and Gawain carried Elayeen over the threshold into Rak's home, and warmth.

  Merrin led the way to his room, and once there, threw back the blankets on the bed.

  "Hurry, Traveller, she must be freezing!" Merrin whispered urgently, and threw another log on the fire.

  "I shall fetch wine." Rak said softly, and hurried to the kitchen.

  Gawain laid Elayeen on the bed, and gently prised her hand from under his shirt. Allazar hurried forward.

  "No! Longsword, no! She draws strength from you! She is ithroth! It is a miracle she yet lives."

  Merrin was about to cover Elayeen with blankets, but paused.

  "Allazar, by my sword, what must I do to hasten her recovery? She is so weak...she barely lives..."

  Gawain choked, clutching Elayeen's hand to his cheek, kissing her palm.

  "Longsword, you must lay with her, hold her close...she draws her very life from you now."

  Merrin's eyes widened for a moment, and then without further hesitation, began pulling off Elayeen's boots. Rak returned, bearing a tray laden with food and a flagon of steaming mulled wine. He placed them on a table by the bedside, and seeing what Merrin was doing, stepped forward to help slip the longsword and cloak from Gawain's shoulders.

  "You will not be disturbed, my brother." Rak said quietly. "However long it takes. We shall leave food outside your door, and none shall disturb you. You only have to call, and one of us will come, not matter what the hour."

  Gawain stood, still clutching Elayeen's hand while he struggled to slip off his snow-wet boots. Allazar dropped to his knees and pulled them off, while Merrin eased Elayeen upright to remove her tunic and blouse.

  In moments, Gawain slipped beneath the blankets, and hugged Elayeen's naked body to his. She was cold as ice, and he shivered. Allazar threw another skin over the top of the blankets, and stoked the fire.

  "You must hold her close, Longsword...and you must eat and drink for her! It is miraculous she lived all the way from Juria with nothing but her hand on your chest! Were it not for this strange aquamire in you, I fear she would have died in your arms."

  "How long?" Gawain gasped, shivering, his teeth chattering with cold as he hugged Elayeen to him.

  Rak and Merrin eyed the wizard with concern. Allazar shrugged. "I know not. It may be days, or weeks. It may be never. I know not, in truth. No-one has ever returned from Faranthroth before. There is nothing more we can do. Her heart beats in your chest, Longsword, the rest is up to her, and you. It would have been wiser to have stayed in Elvendere, I think."

  "I could not. She is exiled."

  "No," Merrin said softly, but firmly, as she lit a lamp and ushered Rak and Allazar towards the door, "She is home."

  oOo

  26. Lull

  Gawain held Elayeen close, entwining his legs with hers, wrapping her in his arms, trying to draw her into his very body, that she might live. For an hour or more, his teeth chattered in his head and he shivered violently; never had he known such bone-chilling coldness, or fear. Yet she breathed, he could feel each shallow inhalation in the pressure of her breasts against his. He tried whispering her name, but the sounds were incoherent so much were his teeth chattering.

  After a time, the numbness that crept through his flesh began to wane, to be replaced by a strange tingling wherever his skin pressed against hers. Longer still, and the tingling became stronger, as if a something were flowing from him into her wherever they touched. The sensation heightened, and as he rubbed her back he felt the tiniest of jolts through his fingertips.

  Then he felt a wave of tiredness wash over him, but fought against it. In the hearth, logs blazed and crackled. Outside, the wind rose, and snow began piling at the windows. In his arms, Elayeen's breathing grew deeper, and she grew warmer to his touch.

  "Elayeen." he sighed, "Do not leave me now."

  He slept, and awoke with a start, terrified. He had dreamed, and in the dream he was hugging ice, and the ice was melting, flowing away through his arms and fingers, leaving him with nothing, while in the distance, Raheen burned under a white-hot sun...

  Still she breathed, long and deep, and still he held her, still the strange but not unpleasant tingle wherever their bodies touched.

  Flames still flickered from the hearth, but they were few, and almost lost in the dull red glow of embers that flared and swam with each gust from the chimney. But Elayeen was no longer chill to the touch, no longer ice in his arms. In the darkness, Gawain held her close, and when he shivered, which was often, it was because of the curious tingling, and because of his fear for her. Again he slept, her name on his lips as his eyes closed.

  When he awoke again, she was warm, and Gawain felt weak and disoriented. He was vaguely aware that the fire was blazing once more, that someone, perhaps Allazar or Merrin, had slipped into his room and tended to the hearth while he slept. A strange weariness, bone-deep, seemed to be dragging Gawain back down into darkness and sleep, and he shuddered, remembering the terrible darkness behind the Teeth, which would have drawn down the very sun had he not prevailed against Morloch...

  He forced his eyes wide, and turned his head. There was food on the table, and a flagon of wine, and he remembered Allazar's words. When he moved his arm to reach out from the under the blankets, a jolt of familiar something shuddered through his arm, and Elayeen gasped a small sigh of pain at the sudden loss of contact. His arm felt heavy, heavier than the Sword of Justice had once been when first he drew it from the marble floor in his childhood. But Allazar's words rang in his mind, and he reached out, and drank the still-warm wine from the flagon.

  It was spice and sweet, and burned down his throat like the golden fire of Jurian brandy, and he gulped, suddenly incredibly thirsty. When the flagon was half empty, he returned it to the table, and picked up a roll of dwarven meatbread, and jammed it into his mouth. Gawain was astounded, it felt as though he'd been fasting for weeks, so acute was his hunger and his thirst. Elayeen stirred, and while he devoured the meatbread and wine, she began drawing him to her.

  Gawain thought she was awake, and gently called her name. But she didn't reply, and her eyelids remained shut fast. Still, he could feel the pressure in her arms as she tried to hug him closer, and when the flagon was empty, and the plate, he slipped his arm beneath the blankets once more, and hugged her to him again. Only then did she relax, and sigh contentedly, and Gawain slept once more.

  He lost all sense of time, and cared not. By now he was long used to existing in strange worlds where there were no days, no nights, no sense of continuity. He remembered waking, finding fresh food and wine upon the table, gorging himself, and sleeping. And Elayeen, and the tingling contact that seemed to vibrate through his entire body, from his head to his toes. And sometimes when he awoke, he had vague recollections of the fire being high and roaring, or low and whistling embers. Then he slept again.

  Until, one day or night, he didn't know which, he awoke, and no longer felt starved or thirsty, and the tingling where his skin pressed against Elayeen's was gone. For a dread moment his heart skipped a beat, and he hugged her tight. She sig
hed, and shifted her leg, and he relaxed. She was alive. Gawain almost mourned the loss of the tiny jolts when he ran his fingers tenderly along her back, it was as though he had been robbed of something new and precious. But her breathing was deep and steady, she was warm and snug in his arms, and there was fresh colour in her cheek when he brushed back her hair.

  "Elayeen?" He whispered quietly. "Elayeen?"

  She murmured in her sleep, and her arm moved a little, her slender hand rubbing his back.

  "Elayeen?"

  "Mithroth." she sighed, her eyes still closed.

  It was enough for Gawain. A single tear slipped down his cheek as he stroked her hair. Her voice, though rich with sleep, was the voice not of a sickly child, but of the elfin woman whose eyes had haunted him since that moonlit night on the track to Ferdan so long ago.

  Gawain lay there, stroking her hair, until the fire died to embers. There was the gentlest of raps upon the door, and it opened, revealing Allazar, timidly peeping in and carrying an armful of kindling. The wizard's eyes widened hopefully, and Gawain nodded. Allazar silently crept in, smiling, and set about tending the hearth as quietly as he could. When fresh flames cast dancing shadows around the room, he rose from the fireplace and turned, nodding as he moved towards the door, but Gawain called him back with a whisper.

  "Longsword?" Allazar whispered back, kneeling beside the bed, eyeing the full flagon of wine and the untouched food on the plate. "Is there something you need? Is all well?"

  Gawain smiled wearily. "All is well, I think. She sleeps, and is warm, and has spoken."

  Allazar's eyes widened, and Gawain felt a twinge of guilt for all his previous low opinions; the wizard looked genuinely relieved beyond words.

  "What day is this?" Gawain asked softly.

  "The seventh, since your return."

  "Is it day?"

  "It is night. Dawn will break in an hour or two."

  "Is all well?"

  "All is well. The snowfall ceased yesterday."

  "Would you part the curtain a little? I would see the dawn this day."

  "I will."

  "And remove some of the blankets?"

  Allazar nodded, and tenderly drew back some of the skins and blankets piled high atop Gawain and Elayeen. Then he crossed to the windows, and parted the curtains by a handspan or two. His eyebrows arched in query, and Gawain smiled his thanks, and with that, Allazar quietly left the room, drawing the door closed behind him.

  Gawain lay with his face turned to the windows while the logs crackled in the grate, and in time, the darkness beyond the window paled, and finally, pallid winter sunshine pierced the gloom. Gawain smiled, and closed his eyes...For, as Elayeen sighed contentedly in his arms, he had much to thank The Fallen for.

  He was still tenderly caressing her head some hours later when she drew in a deep breath.

  "Mithroth?" she whispered, her voice clear.

  "Yes, Elayeen."

  "I had a terrible dream..."

  "As did I."

  "Am I awake, now?"

  Gawain glanced down, and smiled. Her eyes were tight shut, barely visible at all with the blankets drawn so high up.

  "Your eyes are closed."

  "I dare not open them. If I do, you will be gone, slain in Juria, so many days passed. I shall hold you close thus, and keep my eyes closed, forever, and you shall live, though I be faranthroth."

  "I shall not be gone, Elayeen. I shall never be gone. I am not slain. I am here."

  "No. I have had this dream before. So many times I have held you thus, and heard my heart beat in your chest. And then I awaken, and Meeya comes, or Gan. They give me food, and take me to Elvenheth and my father, and the wizard says mithroth is slain in Juria. I call out your name, and sleep, and dream, and hold you to me again."

  Tears brimmed in Gawain's eyes.

  "Oh Elayeen..." he sighed, and drew her closer, tilting her chin up. "This is no dream, my love, I am here, in truth. I kept my promise, and returned for you. I slew the whitebeard, I felled the trees of faranthroth, and brought you out of Elvenheth. You and I are here, Elayeen, in truth, and this I promise: open your eyes, and my arms shall remain around you, my hand in your hair thus, my lips upon your brow, thus..."

  He kissed her, and her eyelids fluttered. "Mithroth..." she pleaded, tears slipping from beneath her tight-shut eyes, "If you are gone again when I wake up, I shall die again!"

  "I am here, Elayeen, in truth, I swear."

  Her eyelids fluttered again, and she drew in a deep and wracking breath, and then her eyes opened, wide, and filled with fear and dread...then she blinked, and her hand slid from around his shoulder, to reach up, and touch his face.

  "Mithroth..."

  "Elayeen."

  She let out her breath in single shuddering sigh, a smile danced on her lips, and her hand slipped around his neck, pulling him down, kissing him...drawing him to her as she whispered "Mithroth" over and over...

  Later, as they lay in each other's arms, the fire burning low in both hearth and hearts, Elayeen suddenly asked:

  "Where is this place, mithroth?"

  "We are in the home of my friend, Rak, and his Lady, Merrin."

  "Then the last dream I had was no dream?"

  "What did you dream?"

  "I dreamed of Gwyn, and you, and a vast wilderness of cold."

  "The plains of Juria. We are in Tarn, my love, on the western slopes of Threlland."

  Elayeen tensed, and her eyes widened with fear. "The dwarves will kill me!"

  Gawain smiled, and eased her back to him again. "No. That is a whitebeard lie. For a week we have lain here, while my friends tended the fire, and brought food and wine."

  "A week?"

  Gawain hugged her, and gently rubbed her back. "Yes. You were near death, so long had I been gone from you."

  She seemed suddenly timid, and suddenly shy, in spite of their lovemaking. "Then it is all true? This is not faranthroth?"

  "No, my love, this is not faranthroth. I came for you, and brought you here..."

  And Gawain told Elayeen all that had transpired, since he had unwittingly left her athroth in Elvendere, before autumn, before winter, and since his return from the Teeth after destroying the dark lens.

  At length, she gazed up at him, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes wide, filled with yearning, and love, and pain and anguish, and then she wept. Gawain was stunned, and then suddenly fearful.

  "Elayeen," he soothed, "What new pain ails you? What can I do?"

  She sobbed, and drew away from him. "This is not faranthroth...?"

  "No, it is not..."

  "Then don't you see? I am exiled, outcast...dead to all who knew me, abandoned, and...and we have lain together!"

  Gawain flushed..."But my love...you drew me to you..."

  "I had thought this a dream! Another endless faranthroth shade!"

  The distance between them was suddenly a gulf, wider and colder even than the farak gorin. Elayeen turned her back to him, covering her face, weeping inconsolably, and when he reached out to touch her shoulder, she flinched away from him. He gasped, confused and afraid.

  "Elayeen...what must I do?"

  "Leave me..." she sobbed, "Leave me alone!"

  "But..." Gawain whispered, "I cannot. You are mithroth..."

  "No!" she cried, great sobs wracking her body beneath the blankets and skins, "You are not elf! I am ithroth but you are not elf, and now, neither am I!"

  Gawain did not know what to do. In almost the blink of an eye, he had fallen from paradise to the depths of despair. Hours ago, she drew her very life from him. Now she wished him to leave her. Quietly, and on on shaky legs, he slid from beneath the blankets, and dressed. Not once did she turn to look at him, or say his name, or, when he moved to the door and waited, call him back to her.

  He lifted the latch, and stepped out into the hallway. He gazed back at the silver-blonde hair laying tousled on the pillows, watched as her shoulders shuddered while she sobbed, and with a s
igh, and his heart in his throat, he closed the door.

  When he walked into the main room, Allazar, Merrin, and Rak jumped to their feet.

  "Longsword!" Allazar gasped, "Is all well? Is your Lady...?"

  Gawain shrugged, his anguish clear for all to see. "She lives...she is well...everything was well, and then..."

  "And then?" Allazar asked, guiding Gawain by the arm to a chair by the fire.

  Gawain drew in a breath, and shook his head. On the floor, Travak clutched the wooden toy Gwyn to his chest, his eyes wide, sensing the anguish and tension that had suddenly filled the room.

  "And then?" Merrin prompted.

  "She bade me leave. She said..." Gawain stared at the fire, completely at a loss, "She said she had thought all was a dream, a faranthroth dream...she cries floods of tears, and each one breaks my heart, and I can do nothing.” His hands opened and closed as if he would grasp the air, and crush it. "She bade me leave..."

  Merrin rose quietly, and picked up Travak. "I shall go to her."

  Gawain stared up at Rak's lady. "She fears all dwarves, lady Merrin! Curse every lying whitebeard bastard in Elvendere, she fears all Threllanders more than Morloch!"

  "She shall not fear me, Traveller. Calm yourself. I shall speak with her."

  Rak nodded gravely, and Merrin, with Travak on her hip, softly left the room.

  "I do not know what to do." Gawain sighed. "I do not know what to do. She says I am not elf..."

  "She is confused and afraid, Longsword, nothing more." Allazar assured him, offering a mug of warm ale.

  "Be at peace, my brother," Rak agreed, "My Lady Merrin will comfort Elayeen as only another woman can."

  "I would rather face the Teeth in midwinter than hear her crying so." Gawain blurted. "To be cast away from her, after so long holding her in my arms!"

  Allazar smiled sadly. "You may not be elf, Longsword, nor throth, but this new pain you feel has a word in our language."

  Rak smiled. "Aye. And it is good that it beats now in your breast where so long only ashes and vengeance once reigned. You are young, Traveller, and have yet to learn the mystery that is woman."