The Longsword Chronicles: Book 01 - King of Ashes

by GJ Kelly

  "I am old," Allazar said seriously, "And I still do not."

  Gawain chuckled, in spite of the ache deep within him. Rak laughed quietly too.

  "In truth," Rak said, stoking the fire, "These are wizard-words you can believe in!"

  "Should I go back to her?" Gawain asked suddenly, "Perhaps she is yet afraid of Merrin..."

  "No!" Rak and Allazar said, simultaneously, and grinned.

  "It matters not what you do either way," Allazar grunted. "You'll be wrong whichever path you take. Go to her, and she will bid you leave at once. Stay away, and she will berate you for abandoning her."

  "More truth, Traveller." Rak sighed, shaking his head at a distant memory. Many of them too, from the rueful smile that danced on his lips.

  "Are you hungry?" Allazar prompted.

  "No...Since Elayeen awoke this morning, my appetite has returned to normal."

  "Ah.” And then Allazar looked up, and shared a knowing glance with Rak. "Since this morning?"

  "Aye."

  "Ah."

  Gawain looked confused once more, and cast another longing glance towards the door.

  "In that case, my brother," Rak announced firmly, "It is best you leave them to talk, for doubtless they will have much to say."

  "In truth?"

  Again Allazar and Rak exchanged a look. "In truth," Allazar replied, "And where matters of comfort are concerned, I believe your horse has become somewhat restless of late."

  "Gwyn? Is all well?"

  Allazar shrugged. "I know little of horses, except that they have a habit of dying beneath me. Perhaps you should see for yourself? It is a cold afternoon, but the stables are warm, I am told."

  Rak nodded sternly.

  Gawain suddenly had a duty, and his grateful mind seized upon it ferociously. "I shall tend Gwyn. She deserves no less, for such noble service." And he rose from the chair, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders.

  "Aye," Allazar said, his face inscrutable. "A good idea."

  Gawain didn't notice the smiles both Rak and Allazar exchanged as he strode from the room, and out into bitter cold air.

  It was still bright, and the freezing air burned his lungs as he crunched through deep snow around the back of the house and to the stables. Servants had obviously laboured long to clear the paths, for in the garden, the bench where he had sat with his friends in autumn was still completely buried in drifts.

  When he flung open the doors, Gwyn whinnied long and loud, and pranced happily, alarming the young stable-boy who was standing on a barrel to brush her mane.

  "Hello Ugly," Gawain said, smiling, and tugged her ears as her great head bobbed low and pushed against his chest.

  "Here, let me, please." Gawain smiled at the boy, and took the brush and comb. The boy looked sheepish, obviously in awe of the longsword warrior towering over him. "What is your name?"

  "Lyas, Serre."

  "Well Lyas, you have my thanks, and the thanks of this hideous nag. I can see you have tended her well in my absence, and I am in your debt."

  Lyas flushed, and a gruff voice announced from the back of the stables "Aye, Serre, he's a good lad, that 'un, and will make a fine master one day.”

  A dwarf strode forward from the gloom, clutching a bridle, which he was polishing. "I am Rudd, master groomer to his Lordship. Lyas is my 'prentice."

  "Well met, and honour to you both."

  "Honour to you, Serre, and to your fine horse."

  "I am told she has been skittish of late?"

  Lyas shook his head, and Rudd seemed surprised. "Gwyn? Skittish? No Serre, good as gold. Tired at first, cold and travel-weary, but perked up a treat now, as you can see."

  "Ah." Gawain smiled, a glimmering of understanding shining through his confusion. "I must have misheard my friends."

  "A fine horse, Serre." Rudd smiled. "I've only seen the like once afore, many years ago."

  Gawain eyed the master groomer anxiously. "Indeed?"

  "Aye. Can't remember exactly, Serre, me being so old, and having been kicked aside the head more'n once in my day. But a fine horse. It's an honour for us to tend such a noble beast."

  "Thank you."

  "No thanks needed, Serre. Come, Lyas, there's tack to polish afore supper."

  Rudd smiled, his eyes twinkling in the light from glowstone lamps, and Gawain nodded his thanks at the old man as he disappeared to a back room with the young apprentice. Doubtless, Gawain knew, the master groomer would know a Raheen charger when he saw one.

  "Now, hideous creature," Gawain sighed, "I don't know why good people like Rudd and Lyas should waste so much of their precious time on you with these other fine horses to tend, but since I feel sorry for them having to look at you, I think I'd best finish this grooming myself."

  Gwyn bobbed her head happily, munching hay from a bale while Gawain busied himself. Still his mind turned to Elayeen, and the anguish in her hazel-green eyes.

  An hour later, his duty done and Gwyn nodding haughtily, Gawain returned to the house, and the main room. He froze as he entered, noting the worried expressions on his friends' faces, and noting his weapons piled on the chair, the longsword propped against the hearth. Lady Merrin rose, and smiled weakly.

  "What is it?" Gawain asked, his voice tight with anguish.

  "Traveller," Merrin advanced, and rested a gentle hand upon his arm, "Your Lady is well, and is bathing. We have spoken, she and I. And come to a decision..."

  "A decision? What? What sort of decision?"

  Rak and Allazar stood, the former looking to the latter.

  "Elayeen is confused, Longsword," Allazar began apologetically, "You must understand, this is all a great shock to her."

  "A great shock?"

  "Indeed!" Allazar announced, "Can you not imagine? For the whole of the time that she has been athroth, she has lived in a dark and lonely world, filled with waking dreams, never sure which dreams are reality and which realities are dreams...it will take some time for her to realise that all of us, all of this," he waved his hands, "are in fact real."

  "I don't understand..." Gawain protested.

  "She needs time." Merrin said softly. "And so we have thought it best, she and I, and my Lord and the wizard concur..."

  "Concur?"

  "We have agreed," Rak said diplomatically, "That under the circumstances, it might be best if...uhm...Allazar?"

  "I?" Allazar looked suddenly alarmed.

  "It would be best," Merrin said firmly, "If you were to take lodgings at the inn..."

  "The inn!" Gawain protested.

  "...Just until Elayeen has fully recovered." Merrin said hastily.

  Gawain looked stunned. "But she is mithroth...If I leave her..."

  "No, no! She is no longer athroth, Longsword." Allazar rushed to explain. "As long as she knows you are nearby no harm will come to her for your absence."

  "Your temporary absence." Rak added hurriedly.

  Gawain looked from one to the other. "I still don't understand."

  "The wizard will explain it all to you, I am sure." Merrin smiled. "Won't you, Allazar?"

  "Eh? Oh, yes..."

  "It will only be for a short time." Rak assured Gawain. "Had we more rooms, perhaps..."

  Merrin shook her head. "We do not, my Lord, and in truth it is best if Traveller grants his Lady time to come to terms with her new circumstances."

  "Then I am to leave? Now? For the inn?"

  "It's for the best," Merrin smiled.

  Gawain did not look convinced. "You will send for me? If she calls for me?"

  "The instant she calls for you."

  "Or if she needs me?"

  "In a heartbeat."

  Rak picked up Gawain's quiver of arrows, his knife, his shortsword, and his old boots, and handed them to Allazar. The longsword he would not touch.

  "I do not understand." Gawain sighed, his eyes blinking, one moment aquamire, the next steel-grey as his emotions rose and fell. Almost absent-mindedly he picked up the sword and slung it ov
er his shoulder.

  "Well. The inn is comfortable, my brother," Rak smiled, "if you recall, you rested there the night Travak was born?"

  "Yes...the night Travak was born..."

  Gawain allowed Merrin to guide him to the front door, and in moments it seemed he was standing bemused, in the snow, with Allazar beside him, the door closed behind them.

  "I don't understand." Gawain sighed again.

  "I'll explain it to you at the inn," Allazar said quietly. "If we can hurry? These robes of mine are hardly fit for the weather."

  "Oh. Yes."

  At the inn, Derrik, the landlord, smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Serres, there are no more rooms. The snows, you see. So many merchants, the roads and passes blocked..."

  Gawain just stood there, dumbfounded.

  "But!" Derrik announced, happily, struck by a sudden thought, "We can put up a second cot in the wizard's room! The two of you being friends, why, you'll be snug as muffworms and it won't cost an extra copper!"

  "Just because I haven't killed him yet doesn't mean he's my friend." Gawain mumbled.

  "He jests," Allazar grinned at the landlord as a hush fell over the assembled company, "For such a fearsome warrior, he has a rare humour! We'll take the cot, goodman Derrik, and glad of it. Come my friend!" Allazar cried enthusiastically, "To your new lodging!"

  And he led the still-bemused Gawain up the stairs to their room.

  It was warm, and faced north towards the Teeth, and Derrik had been right. It was snug.

  "Small is a better word." Gawain sighed, staring out of the window while Derrik set up the second cot bed.

  "Cosy!" Derrik enthused with professional cheer.

  "Tiny." Gawain grumbled. "And I've got to share it with a whitebeard. I had better accommodation under the Teeth, and better company too."

  "Old Martan?" Derrik sucked in his breath, in mock horror. "There's one miner can talk the hind legs off a horse. Stuck in a tunnel with Martan, eating frak and drinking dripwater, or here snug and warm in the light, with finest food and ale? Wizard for company or no, and I mean no disrespect Serre Allazar, I know which I'd choose."

  "So do I." Gawain sighed, but did not express his preference.

  A serving-girl brought blankets and pillows for the cot, and when the door closed leaving just Gawain and Allazar in the room, Gawain sighed again.

  "You must be patient, Longsword." Allazar said quietly, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Can you imagine your Lady's anguish?"

  Gawain shrugged his shoulders, grateful that the wizard couldn't see his face. Anguish he knew, but he could not understand Elayeen's. So much had happened, for both of them, and so quickly.

  "I do not even know if she is my Lady. She is throth, and must be near me to live. But I do not know if I can claim to be hers, or she mine. She seemed so...pained...that I was not a dreaming shade...that we had lain together..."

  Allazar shook his head sadly. "Not to know, Longsword. Not to know if one is living a dream, or living life. Not to know if at any moment, you might awaken briefly in some fresh agony. You must be patient. She is your Lady, Longsword, else she would not have taken you to her, even in faranthroth shades. Take comfort from that, and wait. It is all you can do."

  "I shall go mad."

  "So might she."

  Gawain spun around, his eyes wide with fear. "In truth?"

  Allazar nodded. "Gentle Merrin must guide her back now. Your presence would simply confuse matters. It may take some time."

  "Time?"

  "Aye. Perhaps only the first pains of athroth will suffice for Elayeen to know for certain that she truly lives, and that this is not faranthroth, or the yonderlife, or an athroth dream."

  Gawain sighed, and slipped the longsword from his shoulder. "Then it is my fervent hope, Allazar, for her sake, and mine, and yours, that I do not have to wait too long."

  Allazar eyed the sword. "I am glad you are possessed with this strange aquamire, Longsword. It is only the absence of blackness in your eyes that reassures me you are jesting when you say such things."

  "What makes you think I was jesting?"

  oOo

  27. Martan of Tellek.

  For a full week Gawain paced the small room at the inn, and occasionally ventured out to walk the narrow snow-blown streets of Tarn. Each day, Allazar went to Rak's house, and each afternoon returned with quiet words of encouragement. But Elayeen still did not call for Gawain, and all the wizard could suggest was 'patience and understanding'.

  Gawain tried hard to understand. Never had he loved, much less lain with a lover. He could never know elven throth, but the dreadful ache in his heart was, to him, the greatest pain he had known since Raheen. Thinking of his own dreadful loss, and how it had maddened him, helped him to understand something of Elayeen's distress, and was all that restrained his legs when they would otherwise dash him across the square to Rak's house.

  Patience, though, was in short supply.

  "She seems better, today." Allazar said, munching on a drumstick. "Lady Merrin is pleased. Apparently, your Lady has been playing happily with young Travak, and ate a hearty breakfast, and earlier this morning went for a walk up to the Point overlooking the Teeth and the farak gorin. The fresh air has left her a little tired, but helped colour her cheeks."

  Gawain tried to take comfort from the wizard's words, but paced the creaking floorboards fretfully.

  "And she seems full of wonder at dwarven ways, and how some words in Threlland's language are shared in her own tongue. She is much improved, I would say."

  "Yet still would see me not." Gawain mumbled.

  "Time, Longsword. Patience."

  "I am going slowly and quietly mad, Allazar. Beyond the Teeth, Morloch's army attacks the rock and tries to force a breach. Still the southlands are trapped in snow. Still we await spring warmth or rains to wash this vile white blanket away. There is no word from Eryk of Threlland, much less from Juria's crown, or Callodon, or any other. My heart aches like it's pumping Elve’s Blood, and all you can say is 'time'. I must do something."

  "You could go for a walk, the path to the farak gorin is almost clear I heard."

  "Or I could cheer myself up by killing something." Gawain sighed. "It's been a while since I hacked a whitebeard in two and at least it would pass the time you're so fond of mentioning."

  Allazar sighed. "You know, I'll wager you didn't make such threats against that miner when you shared crueller quarters with him for weeks beneath the Teeth."

  "No, I didn't. But then I like Martan and have yet to find a dwarf I don't. The same, Allazar, I cannot say for wizards."

  "I am hurt by your words, Longsword. After tolerating your sleeplessness, your pacing, the constant sighs, all the times you have cried out in your sleep...need I go on?"

  "Think yourself lucky it's only my words you find hurtful." Gawain muttered half-heartedly.

  Allazar frowned. "You must be truly in despair, my friend, if you will not rise to my baiting. Forgive me, I had not realised the depth of your feelings for Elayeen."

  "Nor had I." Gawain whispered. And then his voice grew stronger. "But I jest not when I say this waiting is driving me mad. Sometimes I am filled with rage that she should reject me so, I who brought her back from death. Other times, I am filled with ineffable sorrow for the pain she endured at my absence, and would slay all whitebeards for permitting, no...requiring my ignorance of her condition. Yet other times, I would beat down the walls of Rak's house just to see her eyes, and tell her I love her, and beg her forgiveness. If she suffers but half of this confusion, then she suffers greatly."

  "She does."

  "I must do something, Allazar. Truly. I fear my own rage at times. This blackness in me, which you call strange aquamire...sometimes it cries for blood and it terrifies me."

  "Strange indeed. I have never seen the like. I do not know what transpired when you shattered the Lens, and by all my knowledge you should be ashes. There are those of my brethren who I am sure would say you ar
e Morloch-cursed, and his vile spirit is in you. Yet I know that cannot be true. I am certain Morloch yet lives beyond the Teeth. I know not how I know, but I do."

  Gawain took a deep breath. "Well. I must do something, and so I shall. I shall renew my friendship with Martan of Tellek, he was gravely ill when last I saw him, and I would ask his advice on mining matters."

  Allazar tossed his drumstick on a plate and wiped his hands, considering. "Longsword, Elayeen will know if you leave Tarn. She will feel it."

  "As will I. But did you not say, the stirrings of athroth might serve to aid her recovery?"

  "They might, I do not know. They may also be harmful. And what if she calls for you, and you are not here to answer?"

  "Tellek is but half a day's ride. The road is clear, merchants arrived this morning. Will you fetch Gwyn for me? I would go myself, but to approach so close..."

  "I understand. I shall tell Rak and Merrin what you intend. If they feel it inadvisable, then I shall not return with your horse. If it is decided that the journey may not harm your Lady's recovery, then I shall bring Gwyn to you."

  "Alive, Allazar. Bring Gwyn to me alive. I have neither forgiven nor forgotten your lamentable treatment of horses."

  "Aye."

  An hour later, and Gawain was in the saddle, leaving Tarn at his back. Gwyn seemed happy to be out in the open, and were it not for the knowledge that Elayeen was growing further distant from him with each hoofbeat, Gawain would be happier too. As it was, he had a purpose. He was doing something, and for all his contempt of wizards, he really did not wish to kill Allazar, and being virtually captive with the whitebeard at such close quarters was a definite risk.

  So he tried his best to clear his mind, and fill it not with anguish and yearning, but with duty and purpose. Martan of Tellek was a friend, a worthy one, and Gawain had need of such. So did all the southlands.

  It was early evening by the time he rode into the small mining village. There were some folk still about their business, and a group of miners, dirty yet happy and fresh from the mines, drinking ale outside a tavern in the chill breezes. Gawain thought that the evening probably felt warm to them compared with the tunnels that ran beneath the frozen hills. They saw him riding towards them, and tankards paused at lips as eyes widened in recognition. Though few had actually seen the longsword warrior, there were songs and tales aplenty.