The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor

by A. P. Stephens

  What could possibly do this? Gildan asked himself. What could subject the world to such ultimate downfall? Gildan staggered, grieving, to his feet. We are doomed for certain.

  "What shall we do?" asked Faragen.

  "We must turn to the Council now. Only they can help. Surely the Great Tree still houses their wisdom in spite of everything." Gildan turned back to Randor. "Help me carry him out of this accursed place." The two officers aided Gildan in lifting Randor up onto their shoulders. He lay heavy in their damp and shaking hands, but their will was strong.

  The climb was slow and arduous, and now the only concerns were the moon and Randor, the flush of victory over the Rhingar already a distant memory. The steep road now lay behind them as they drew level with the high pass. "Careful," he ordered. "Make way…" The Obinoth kept their distance from the three bearers as they advanced to the front. "Right over there." A blanket from a nearby soldier was placed on the ground as Gildan let go of Randor's body.

  Not willing to endure further torment, Gildan took leave of the others and approached the boulder where he and Randor had stood earlier that same night. The Obinoth army stayed at Randor's side, grieving.

  What could have been done to prevent this? Gildan pondered. Could the Council not foresee this before it happened? He crossed his arms and paced aimlessly about, blocking out his surroundings as he continued to beat his soul with questions he could never answer. Telsar and Faragen approached unnoticed and stood at attention. Gildan glared over his shoulder and returned to his inner quandary.

  "Do you want us to set camp here tonight, sir?" Telsar asked.

  Gildan nodded slowly. "Try and get as much rest as possible, for we must be in haste for Obinoth. There is no doubt you and your soldiers are needed there. I have business someplace else--yet where is still not known to me. I have the feeling someone will need my help."

  "Yes, sir," Telsar responded, quickly returning to the collection of the army.

  "Do we take Randor to Obinoth or to Mudalfaen?" Faragen asked.

  "Neither, my friend," Gildan answered. "There were some caverns to the west within Erogd. In three days time we will place his body in a cave and cover its entrance. Randor dearly loved Londor--so we shall give him the world as his tomb. He would have wanted it this way."

  "As you wish," Faragen said.

  Gildan returned his gaze to the troubled heavens and sighed. The wind changed direction and grew bitterly cold and the temperature plummeted. It was strange to feel this, especially in midst summer. "This is, indeed, Londor's greatest downfall," Gildan whispered.

  Chapter Two: A Troubled City

  Two miserable months had passed since the vanishing of the moon, Beldas, and with each new sunrise Londor fell ever closer to ruin. Not even the wisest could see the terrible ending of the world, nor even how much longer life would carry on. Though the races of men and dwarvenkind did not physically feel the oncoming downfall, the world around them was slipping away nonetheless. Wizards of all races lost most of their abilities, so that even the simplest of spells were all but impossible to conjure.

  Both the Vinar elves, the most common elves in the world of Londor, and high elves felt the absence of mana and were forced to endure continuous pain and sadness day in and day out, and though the Council of Mudalfaen was painfully aware of the world's troubles, not even their collective wisdom could make a whit of difference for the many allies in their care. Shortly after the disappearance of Beldas, all communication among the Mudalfaen alliances ceased as every kingdom sealed off its borders and remained in a state of high alert at all times. Those who wandered the lands found themselves subject to arrest and persecution, particularly at night when the true chaos of weather and sorrow came. Everyone was now suspect in the moon's disappearance--the greatest tragedy in Londor's history. Every soldier, knight, and wizard labored days and nights on end to protect the world around them, and kings, queens, princelings, and high councils throughout the land made every effort to keep their citizens at home during this time of crisis, allowing no one to leave without strict approval.

  The elven valley of Dunane saw the collapse soonest. Though the days still graced them with mostly pleasant weather, come nightfall, dark clouds swept in just after sunset. The gloomy formations hung low, accompanied by frigid winds and dense fog. On many nights, great storms beat down on the valley as thunder and lightning cracked overhead.

  Dunane's capital, Norganas, was held prisoner to nature, and all hope lay out of reach. Each night was anticipated with dread.

  In the city's chief observation tower, rising above the southern wall, two elf-knights stood watch on the top level. It was from this high structure of white stone that they kept watch over the vast forest to the south, as far as elven eyes could see. The two pulled their newly acquired cloaks closer to their bodies, huddling close together to keep warm, but it was of little good. Rain poured down in great sheets, and cracks of lightning lit the landscape as if it were day, and whenever the rain let up, dark fog enveloped the entire valley. The constant winds from the south, undeterred by the forest, howled through the city and swept over the Mondranos Mountains to the north and west.

  A sudden blast of wind knifed through the narrow opening of the watchtower, stinging the two elves' pale faces.

  "I swear, Captain Fenrahn, if this weather persists, it will be the end of me!" young Etrigos cried. He clenched his chattering teeth and gazed out at the bleak world around him. "I honestly cannot tell you how many nights it has been the same."

  "Fourteen," Fenrahn replied mildly. "Fourteen straight, to be exact." He remained at the opening as Etrigos retreated to the center of the circular room and stationed himself by the hole in the wooden floor, where a ladder led down to the many levels below.

  "We need furs for this climate."

  "And where do you expect King Zelok to obtain these?" asked Fenrahn. "I can tell you we have none in storage."

  "But these cloaks are useless!" Etrigos moaned.

  "We'll all just have to make do."

  "I'd much rather be inside, sitting next to a roaring fire alongside my brothers. I wager they are feasting as usual on this evil evening."

  "Just as the rest of the valley feasts within the warmth of their homes."

  "I envy them, Captain."

  Fenrahn sighed but did not move from the observation portal. "Our duty will be done with the coming of the sun."

  "Still, I do not understand why you, sir, are made to stand watch over the city--you rank above us all."

  "I don't wish to be locked away in the palace, dealing with parchments and politics." Fenrahn turned and, with a tired smile, said, "I take this time to train my knights and pass along my teachings firsthand."

  "When I am made Captain of the Order," Etrigos began with his head held high, "I will gladly stay inside the palace." He laughed, but Fenrahn was not amused. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, sir."

  Fenrahn shook his head and returned his gaze to the forest. "You have much to learn."

  Etrigos gathered his frozen courage and approached the window. The captain stood three inches taller than he, though both were of the same build and wore precisely the same attire: the brown jacket of the knights of Dunane, with brown trousers tucked into knee-high leather boots. Both elves wore their hair tied back in ponytails, Etrigos having silvery hair while Fenrahn's was that of gold. The cloaks were the newest addition to their wardrobe, so that nothing distinguished Fenrahn from the rest of his order save the silver tassel that hung on his chest, denoting his rank.

  "I am surprised by this dangerous situation," Etrigos said, "that King Zelok has not authorized us to arm ourselves with swords or spears."

  "I believe that our master remains of a mind with his ancestors. Our people have not known conflict for eighty years. After the Great War, that was the end of our struggles." Fenrahn considered himself blessed not to have experienced that dark time. "But rest assured, Etrigos, we have weaponry if the occasion calls for it."
r />   Fenrahn closed his eyes and leaned against the stone wall. Above his head blazed one of the four torches mounted in the stones, lighting the room but dimly. The captain appreciated the warmth of the fire, and it relaxed him for the moment. "Mudalfaen has ensured our peace for the past eight decades." He paused. "I only wish some of our allies could share in Dunane's harmony. Many are still afflicted by petty skirmishes. Alas, those who once knew peace now share the same problems as those who knew it not. All of Mudalfaen's allies are falling victim to the same downfall. Peace has escaped us."

  "I still hold on to faith," said Etrigos. "We shall be saved."

  The young elf's spirit seemed to help Fenrahn keep what little hope he had left. "I can tell you this," Fenrahn replied. "When we received word of Randor Miithra's death, Dunane fell into great despair. Many say that if a Randor could not endure this unbalance, what hope do elves possess?"

  "That was a tragic day, Captain. Though I never saw the Great Servant, I have heard the countless stories of his deeds and shall miss him nonetheless."

  "So shall we all, my friend….His legend will carry on." Fenrahn drew in a deep breath of cold air.

  It was clear to Etrigos that the captain was not well, and naturally, Etrigos felt concerned for his beloved officer.

  "Are you hungry, sir?"

  "No," replied Fenrahn softly. "I have lost my appetite, I am afraid. No longer can I enjoy the foods provided to us."

  "Can I get you some wine, perhaps? Maybe that will help."

  "No, Etrigos." He looked over to the worried elf and gave a faint smile. "If you need food or drink, please feel free to take a short leave."

  "What of the watch?"

  "What of it?"

  "I fear to leave, in case something should happen…"

  "I doubt anything will occur in your short absence." Fenrahn laughed quietly. "I even doubt anything will occur this night, or the next."

  "We can never be too certain."

  "Right you are, but those who travel under nightfall are quickly seized now. Every kingdom is overprotected. I believe we are safe in this high state of alert."

  "I pray you are right."

  "You were inquiring about food, were you not?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Well, off you go, then."

  Etrigos saluted and said, "Right away, Captain." He was newly invested in knighthood and not yet comfortable with rest and respite. Fenrahn shook his head and gestured for the knight to leave.

  "See you shortly."

  Before Etrigos set off, some impulse turned his eyes to the ground before the forest. Slowly his view scrolled up the dirt path that connected Norganas to the forest. Up the hill his silver eyes traveled as the cold air stung him. As fate would have it, a bright blue flash of lightning banished the darkness. "Captain!" Etrigos yelped.

  Fenrahn bolted upright. "What is it?"

  "There are riders on the road, sir!"

  "Impossible." Fenrahn did not accept what he heard. He thought the elements present played with the young knight's mind.

  "No, sir! I saw two on horseback, just outside the forest!"

  "One would have to be mad to ride in this weather." Fenrahn moved the shaking Etrigos from the window and stared into the darkness. "I see nothing."

  "My eyes do not deceive me, Captain….At least, I hope they do not."

  "Incoming?"

  "Yes. They ride for the city."

  "Only two, you say?"

  "Thus far. But there could be hundreds out there--or even thousands in our forest."

  "Do not let your mind run away, Etrigos."

  "I cannot help it, sir."

  "Were the riders of elvenkind?"

  "They were concealed by cloaks…I could not see their faces." Etrigos pulled on Fenrahn's clothing in desperation. "We must inform the palace at once!"

  "Not just yet," Fenrahn replied as he trained his eyes on the unlit path. "We could be imprisoned and stripped of rank if we give false alarm. I do not know about you, my friend, but I value my placing in Dunane."

  "As do I, Captain."

  "Then we must be patient."

  "Patience is something I have yet to learn."

  "Then let tonight be your lesson."

  Another great flash of blue revealed the road once more, and now Fenrahn could see the two riders, paused on the path, their intentions unknown. "There, you see?" Etrigos breathed.

  "Yes, Etrigos. Quite right you are." The captain turned away from the window and said softly, "Keep close watch on their actions."

  Etrigos nodded and obeyed, leaving Fenrahn to debate with himself what to do. Only he and Etrigos knew of this potential threat. "From what I saw," Fenrahn began, "one was tall and slender and the other was shorter in stature…perhaps humans."

  "I could not tell, honestly," Etrigos offered. All thought of nourishment was gone, and nothing could peel his eyes away from the ground below. The forest was a little more than a mile away from Norganas, up a steep hill. It put the riders too close to home for Etrigos's liking. In a chain of brief flashes of lightning, Etrigos noticed movement from one of the riders. "Captain, one has drawn a blade!"

  Do they mean to attack us? Fenrahn asked himself. What purpose do they have for Dunane?

  "What shall we do, sir?"

  "We await their next movement."

  * * *

  The journey through the immense forest was not an easy task for the two riders. Their mission was all haste, and secrecy was of the essence in this, their fifth straight day of hard riding. As they had drawn ever nearer to Dunane from the southwest, nightfall became worse with each sunset. Clouds darker than the heavens loomed low, and rain beat down heavily on their cloaks. Both worried of being captured by the kingdoms they rode through. The cruel elements of nature held Dunane captive, making the valley's forest a nightmare for maneuvering. And not just the weather barred the way, but also many fallen trees and mighty boulders that lay as if scattered by some giant hand.

  Neither rider had ventured into this elven realm before, and no real plan had been formulated for reaching their destination slower than they expected. Just when the lead horseman thought the worst was behind them, the paths grew more twisted than ever, making speed impossible. Trusting his rattled senses, the leader eventually headed up a steep and narrow road.

  At last they were free of the dark and difficult forest; Norganas was in sight. A grand line of mountains rose high above the city and stretched beyond the horizon to the east and west. Few lights shone from the city, other than those in the many towers that rose high above the walls. Because they were unexpected, the two riders knew full well that by approaching the city they could send the elven military into action. Scanning the valley below, the leader could see only one path leading to Norganas, down one final hill. Perhaps there was a chance they could enter without detection.

  The lead rider, the taller of the two, glanced over to his companion. The smaller rider looked up and nodded as he shook out his drenched cloak of blue. The leader pointed to the city ahead, as the wind howled at them and thunder banged overhead.

  The leader thrust his hand down to his saddle and gripped the hilt of his sword. Drawing it, he held the blade before his face. The double-edged blade, though it had passed through many generations, showed no sign of its age. Just then, a long series of lightning flashes illuminated the land, its blue light reflecting off the blade and into the leader's eyes.

  A frigid gust blasted the two weary travelers, cutting through their sodden cloaks and chilling them to the bone. Both sat as if frozen in their saddles, dreading to move toward the city but craving its shelter even more. As much as the leader desired to bear on into Norganas with full speed, he knew that the time was not right.

  "I never even had the opportunity to say farewell to my family," Etrigos said as he paced the floor in anguish. Captain Fenrahn still had not given the command on their next action, and this only heightened Etrigos's anxiety. How he hated uncertainty. "Our city could fall t
onight; we may not see another sunrise!"

  "Calm down," Fenrahn said. "I will inform the palace of what we have seen."

  "What would you ask of me, sir?"

  "You know of the alarm horn in each tower?"

  Etrigos nodded. "I have been told of them before. Never have I seen one, though."

  "Yes," Fenrahn replied. "This is because we have stowed them away in ignorance. There hasn't been a need for them until now. The one we possess in this tower is on the floor below us."

  "But where, sir?" Etrigos asked. "There are so many boxes and chests stored there."

  "I do not know. Now, go in haste and find it, my young elf. I need this from you."

  "Yes, Captain." Etrigos saluted and scurried down the ladder.

  On the floor below, a single torch dimly lit the wooden crates and various-sized chests that lay stacked against the walls. In his haste, Etrigos missed the last rung and fell hard onto the wood floor. A cloud of dust rose up, and through his own coughing he heard Fenrahn call out, "Are you all right down there?"

  "Yes," Etrigos replied. "All is well." Sitting up, he shifted to his knees and scanned the room with blurred vision. There was no clear choice where to begin. After studying the situation, he said to himself, I'll wager none of these chests have seen an elf's hand in a good while. Deciding on the nearest chest, he prayed that fortune was on his side. It was a small, red chest, completely caked by dust. A brass lock hung open in the latch. Removing it, he opened the lid and was met with the familiar scent of incense.

  He wondered how the essence could hold its richness after all this time. The sweet smell reminded him of the wondrous festivals in the forest, feasts in the palace, and the warmer days of the valley. In this dreamlike moment he forgot all his troubles and let his soul sink deep into the past. Unbidden, the present situation crept through his dream, returning his thoughts to the chest before him. Staring back at his widened eyes were rich fabrics, smaller wooden boxes, and cloudy glass flasks filled with bluish liquid. The contents had no particular arrangement, and Etrigos saw nothing resembling a horn. Rummaging carefully through the chest so as not to break the flasks, he placed the stacks of cloth on the floor. The glass clanged softly together as he reached to the bottom of the chest.