by GJ Kelly
Perhaps that was indeed why Allazar refused to accompany Gawain to the Teeth. Perhaps the fear of succumbing to such temptation really was at the heart of Allazar's fear. But Gawain remembered Allazar's words, all of them, with strange aquamire clarity. "What lays between you and the Teeth is as nothing compared with what lays between the Teeth and Morloch.” Gawain had seen that terrain, through the Lens of Ramoth, riding the beam of black fire in his mind when the lens was shattered. Allazar had been right, of course. The farak gorin was as nothing compared with what lay on the northern side of the Teeth. The question was, how did Allazar know?
Gawain sighed, and shifted his pillow. Doubt was an insidious enemy, sneaking in undetected, disguised, ignoble. Just as Gawain had sneaked upon the Ramoth compounds, darkened by blackening cloths, unseen in the night, victims never seeing their assassin...
Rak, and everyone else, for that matter, doubted Gawain's words. Gawain doubted Allazar. He doubted the thalangard's motives, Elayeen's love, and her assertion that she would not hinder their journey to the Barak-nor and whatever they might find there. That she was throth, bound to him, was obvious. But that did not mean she loved him. Might a slave love her master?
Gawain was sure only of three things. Himself, his blade, and Gwyn. Even Rak, he doubted. Rak had fought with typical dwarven tenacity that night so long ago on the plains, but that night, Rak was fighting to defend his wife and unborn child. Would he fight so tenaciously for Gawain? Martan of Tellek had fought valiantly, but at the end of the day, Martan was fighting not so much for Gawain or Threlland, but for himself, for one last glorious adventure and a meaningful death before age and infirmity stole upon the old man and robbed him of his dignity. Even now, if it were true that Martan, a good friend, were digging through soft Threlland soil towards the bitchrock of the farak gorin, it was as much for himself as for Gawain or some nobler cause.
So Gawain thought, as the night wore on, doubts gnawing at his stomach like irrepressible relentless worms. He sighed, and turned on his side as thunder rumbled once more. No matter. Tomorrow's sunrise would find them all on the lowlands, travelling the narrow boundary of soft Threlland earth that lay between the Black Hills and the farak gorin. Soon, they would reach the Barak-nor, and many doubts, perhaps even Gawain's, would be answered once and for all.
oOo
31. Lessons
Allazar was still sleeping when Gawain slipped from the inn to find Gwyn. With the thalangard horses in Rak's stables, there would be no room in the stalls for the Raheen charger. And it was the thalangard, Gawain remembered, who had 'taken care of Gwyn' in the aftermath of his ire. If not in Rak's stables, and not at the stables at the inn, then where was she?
Gawain stood in the middle of the market square, and let out a long, low whistle. He felt suddenly ashamed, derelict in his duty. He should have tended Gwyn himself. Seconds later, he heard a familiar whinny, and he followed the sound down a long cobbled street. Again he whistled quietly, and again received Gwyn's answering call, closer now. Almost at the end of the street he found a humble cottage, and followed the path around its side to the gardens at the rear. Gwyn was there, in the darkness, beneath a low lean-to shelter. It was dry, and closed in on three sides, but clearly the structure had been built in haste.
Gawain spied his saddle in the gloom, and strode across the waterlogged garden, his boots squelching. When he reached down into the straw to retrieve the saddle, he suddenly started. Something moved in the straw...Lyas.
"Serre?" the boy asked, rubbing his eyes, "Serre?"
"It's all right, Lyas," Gawain said quietly. "I have come for Gwyn. Sleep, it is another hour at least until dawn."
The boy was clearly bemused, and rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of the shapes in the gloom as Gawain saddled Gwyn.
"There was no room..." Lyas mumbled, "At the stables there was no room. I brung Gwyn home, Serre. I'm sorry if I did wrong..."
"Hush, Lyas, and sleep." Gawain whispered, feeling the gloss on Gwyn's coat, knowing how long the lad must have groomed her, just by touch. He turned, feeling shame, and guilt, and yet a strong sense of kinship with the dwarven youngster who even now desperately tried to rub sleep from his eyes.
Gawain knelt, found the threadbare blanket under which Lyas had been sleeping, and drew it up around the lad's neck. "Sleep, apprentice. It's early yet. One day, when I am able, I shall thank you royally for your kindness and duty to my horse. Until then," Gawain slipped a silver coin into the dazed boy's pocket, "Take this against that day."
"Serre?" Lyas mumbled, already half asleep.
Gawain smiled, and rose, and led Gwyn quietly from the makeshift stable, and to the street beyond. When he climbed into the saddle, he sighed, remembering a young Raheen lad praying for horses on his birthday....then he stiffened his back, and summoned the strange aquamire, and drove the memory from his mind as Gwyn clopped down the cobbles to the inn.
The stableman was as good as his word, and Allazar's horse was ready and waiting. Allazar, though, was conspicuous by his absence. More clopping hoofbeats announced the arrival of Rak and the rest of the party, and Gawain turned as they reined in behind him.
"Good morning, mithroth." Elayeen said softly. "Egrith miheth."
Gawain stared at her, and then cast a critical eye from her boots to the top of her head. The boots were Threllandmade, and strong, reaching above the knee to midway up her thighs. A thick leather skirt, split for riding, and a rich warm cloak, over which her silver-blonde hair spilled like a shimmering waterfall. A long, broad-bladed knife was slung over her right shoulder, and she carried a longbow, slung over her back.
"It means," Elayeen said, mistaking his silence, "I greet my heart."
"Good morning, my Lady," Gawain replied, "Egrith miheth. When we approach the Barak-nor, you must either cut your hair, or blacken it, or wear darkcloth. You shine like a beacon, and will make a fine target for Morloch watchmen."
Elayeen's eyes flicked down, and she fiddled with the reins.
"Traveller." Rak announced, and Gawain could not tell if it was a greeting or a reproach, so he simply nodded.
"Captain Sarek. Well met, and honour to you."
"Longsword. Honour to you, and my thanks for choosing me for this mission."
"No thanks necessary. If the wizard isn't here by the time I finish this sentence, you may commence your duties by going up there and killing the idle..."
"My apologies!” Allazar gasped, stumbling through the inn's door, fumbling with a pack and trying to secure his cloak's clasp at the same time. "Longsword, you did not wake me when you left!"
"I am not your nursemaid, whitebeard. On the lowlands by the farak gorin, if you cannot wake at the slightest sound, you will not wake at all. Mount, and hurry. I would be off the slopes before daybreak."
With that, Gwyn moved off, leading the way out of Tarn to the downland road where, before winter, Gawain had met Martan, and begun their journey to the Teeth...
"Captain Sarek, I should like you in the van with me. The thalangard should take the rear."
"Traveller," Rak said quietly as the cobbles of the square gave way onto the track, "We are yet in Tarn, and all the way to the Barak-nor we are in Threlland. I do not believe we are in imminent danger."
"True." Gawain replied coldly, "But at the Barak-nor we shall be. On the journey there you will need to acquire new skills, the first of which is accepting my instructions without question."
"That you command on this adventure is obvious, Traveller." Rak countered. "We do not need reminding."
Gawain sighed as Sarek pulled his horse alongside Gwyn. "By my estimation, Morloch would need a thousand men ranged across the farak gorin to hold the line against the breach. Which means five hundred at the Barak-nor, and five hundred in the Gorian wasteland. The only way we may approach such a host is with stealth and cunning, arts which few of you yet possess. These are not vacuous Ramoths we approach. These are Morloch's advance guard, and they will be taking extraordinary
measures to safeguard their secrecy and security."
"Five hundred men would not survive a week in the Barak-nor." Rak asserted. "For one thing, there is no food there, unless they have found a way to eat spikeweed and ore-slag."
"Perhaps they have." Gawain mumbled, as Gwyn splashed through the mud on the winding track.
The rains had washed away the snow, but in their wake had left the tracks awash with mud and, in dips in the track, great puddles. From time to time both Gawain and Sarek cast a glance up the slopes, fearful of mudslides. But the trees lining the slopes bound the earth with their roots, and no major obstacles barred their progress down to the flatland at the edge of the farak gorin.
Dawn broke as Gwyn picked her way along the narrow stretch of land that separated Threlland's slopes from the spiteful bitchrock of the river of nothing. Gawain paused, and closed his eyes as weak sunshine shimmered on the farak gorin's glazed and wicked surface, now washed clean of snow.
Elayeen gasped. "You crossed that mithroth? On foot?"
Gawain opened his eyes, and flicked a glance at the spiteful wasteland. "Yes." he said simply, and moved off again.
Sunshine was short-lived, and about an hour after daybreak it began to rain again, a persistent drizzle that hung like a fine mist, billowing in occasional northerly breezes. Gawain drew his cloak tighter about him, and popped a strip of frak into his mouth. It was a frugal breakfast, but to him at least, it was satisfying. Behind him, he heard Rak explaining to Elayeen and the thalangard what frak was, and when Gawain glanced over his shoulder he could see that the elves were far from impressed at both taste and texture of the miner's staple.
Sarek chewed happily enough, long used to subsisting on the stuff on lengthy patrols.
"You know this land, Captain?" Gawain asked quietly.
"Aye Serre. All guardsmen do. In the first months of duty all must patrol this route, from Mallak Spur in the east all the way to Tarn's slopes in the west. It is good training. The north-facing hills of Threlland are bleak and unpopulated, the winds howling down from the Teeth are inhospitable. All soldiers on patrol must therefore rely on themselves and their comrades."
Gawain nodded appreciatively. "Have you seen the Barak-nor?"
"No, Serre. Our patrols do not pass east of Mallak Spur, since it is well known that the Barak-nor is a barren and shameful place. No Threllander goes there, and who else is there would do so?"
"Who else indeed." Allazar grumbled. "Especially in such vile weather. In truth, Longsword, with the terrain, and the snows, and now the rains, I must confess I would be greatly surprised to learn that anything but Black Riders could survive in a place as harsh as that which Lord Rak described."
"Let us hope then," Gawain said darkly, "That it will not be five hundred of those monsters we find there."
Gawain set a fast pace, though not so fast as to risk injury to the horses. The ground beneath them was a mix of soft Threlland earth, rocks, and outcrops of bitchrock, and Gawain knew only too well what effect the latter would have should a hoof stumble upon it. The incessant drizzle dampened clothes and spirits, though no-one complained. Doubtless, he thought, they still feared his dark ire.
At lunchtime, he brought Gwyn to a halt, and dismounted. "We shall walk the horses for an hour," he announced, "They need the rest and you need to feel the terrain beneath your boots. Take care not to step on the bitchrock where it lays exposed, it is vicious."
"And we, Longsword, do we eat?" Allazar asked innocently.
"You have frak, wizard, you may eat it whenever you feel hungry."
"I saw a rabbit in the trees on the slopes. I thought perhaps we might rest also, and prepare something hot against this chill rain."
Gawain stared at the wizard for a moment.
"It was just a thought." Allazar mumbled, as Gawain turned his back.
After a few moments, Gawain handed Gwyn's reins to Sarek and turned to face them all. "I shall go on ahead, around that bluff. Somewhere up there I shall lay in wait for you. If you see me, fire an arrow in my direction."
"An arrow?" Elayeen queried, "Is that not dangerous, mithroth?"
"It might be, my Lady, if you see me. Though if elven archers indeed possess the skills for which they are famed, it should not be beyond you and the thalangard to place a shaft short or wide of the mark."
"What does this game serve?" Rak asked quietly.
"It is a lesson, friend Rak." Gawain said, his eyes flickering. "For if I see you before you see me, then you may expect my shaft by way of greeting. Morloch's watchmen will, I assure you, welcome you likewise."
With that, Gawain turned, and loped off at a steady pace. Once he'd rounded the bluff out of sight of the rest of the party, he grinned, and increased his pace. He was sorely tempted to double back, up on the slopes, moving from tree to tree to take a position behind them. But Morloch's men would not do that. They would have fixed sentries, hidden, laying watchful and in ambush, and that was what Gawain must do if this lesson were to be of value.
He ran at a steady pace for twenty minutes, and then smiled grimly, spotting a perfect place from which to lay in wait. He drew an arrow from his quiver, strung it in readiness, and then carefully picked his way across the broken edges of the farak gorin. Rocks and shattered bitchrock, doubtless thrown up in a small heap during the earthquake, seemed to form a gentle ripple on the shoreline of the shimmering brown river of nothing. Gawain wrapped his arrowsilk cloak tight around himself, and lay down flat on the wet bitchrock rubble, waiting and watching.
Thirty minutes later, the group emerged into view, walking slowly, heads swivelling, scanning the trees. Gawain felt a degree of satisfaction; Sarek had put Allazar in charge of Gwyn and Sarek's own horse, leaving the Threlland officer's hands free to handle the large crossbow he carried cocked and bolted. Rak held the reins of both his horse and Elayeen's, and the elfin was walking with her bow at the ready, an arrow knocked in the string. Even with her cloak drawn tight about her, and with her hair bedraggled and soaking, she looked beautiful, and alert, and the black braid stood out starkly against the silver-blonde tresses.
The thalangard had tethered their horses' reins to their belts, and were walking with elven silence in the rearguard, their bows at the ready.
But then Gawain sighed quietly. All were scanning the trees. None so much as cast a glance out across the farak gorin, not even Sarek. Gawain waited until they had passed, then rose up like a shadow, braced, and hurled his shaft...and watched as it whizzed fifty paces, inches over their heads, to slam into the trunk of a tree they were passing.
The effect was as he'd hoped. They started, horses whinnied, heads whirled, and when they saw him, standing starkly contrasted on the vast expanse of the farak gorin, their shoulders slumped. Even at this distance he could see their lips moving in silent oaths. They waited, crestfallen, as he picked his way towards them, and when he passed through them to retrieve his arrow, they said nothing.
Gawain said nothing too, but simply took Gwyn's reins from Allazar, and mounted, and eased the horse forward. Words were unnecessary. The first lesson had been learned.
When evening closed in they'd made good progress, and as the drizzle eased and the gloom darkened towards night, he ordered them to dismount and make camp.
"If we'd taken a rabbit or two," Allazar mumbled, "We could at least have a more comfortable night."
"No fire." Gawain said quietly.
"We have a long way to go eastward until we turn south towards the Barak-nor." Rak opined. "There is no-one to see our flames."
"No?" Gawain asked. "And what if yet more of Morloch's men travel east along the scree, parallel with our track? What if they were to see our flames from across the farak gorin, where none have been seen before?"
Sarek nodded. "Part of the guardsman's training is to patrol this route with nothing but frak and weapons. It is as much about training for harsh conditions as it is about learning trust in one's comrades. Fires are never permitted."
The horses tended and tethered, the party huddled in a circle, sitting on their damp bedrolls, huddled in their cloaks. Meeya and Valin sat close, side by side, and when Gawain sat, Elayeen sat close to him. With a sigh, Gawain stood, and walked across to Gwyn, and drew something from his packs. Elayeen sat, dejected, her eyes wide with confusion.
"Come, my Lady." Gawain called softly, and she rose, her eyes suddenly full of hope once more. "Captain Sarek, I would have you watch us as we walk."
"Serre."
"I would have all of you watch as as we walk. But you, Sarek, call out the moment you lose sight of us."
"Serre."
"What is this, friend Traveller, another lesson?"
"Yes."
Gawain reached out, and took Elayeen's hand, and felt her draw in a breath as a gentle tingle ran through the contact. Then wordlessly, he slipped his hood over his head, and led her away from their huddled companions, east. They had gone fifty paces in the gloom, still without speaking, still without Sarek calling out. Gawain stopped, and turned to face Elayeen.
"This is the lesson I would have them learn, my Lady, and you."
From beneath his cloak, he drew out a darkening cloth, and with a flourish, he covered her silver-blonde tresses. At once, a distant voice called out to them.
"Longsword! We have lost sight of you!"
Elayeen nodded, her eyes downcast, understanding. "You would have me cut my hair, mithroth. I shall do so in the morning."
Gawain tied the cloth beneath her chin, and then took both of her hands in his. "You may use the cloth, Elayeen. And perhaps there are other ways in which your hair may be made shorter without the use of a knife. I have seen Lady Merrin do so on occasion."
Elayeen nodded, and then suddenly looked up at him. "Have I so offended you, mithroth, that I can never hope to hear gentler tones in your voice, or see your eyes blue when you look at me?"