"I've been told that Dunane's market is one of the finest you'll ever encounter." Seth looked around with a smile and made sure Lorn was enjoying himself, for he knew that the rest of the journey would not be so pleasant.
"I have imported spices from Mugglon right here, gentlemen!" one merchant yelled as he held up a red flask for all to see.
"Roasted meats of a silver henoth!" spoke another. "Five gold pieces! What a bargain!"
"Overpriced," Gildan laughed quietly.
The four passed the market and came to the last portion of Norganas's main road. The south gate came into view shortly. Seth looked up at the observation tower that had given him and Lorn such grief the night before. The elf-mercenary looked up at the open archway and perceived something he did not like: three riders entering the city, charging up the road with no indication of slowing.
"What the…?" Seth gasped.
"Elves," said Lorn.
"Worse," Gildan added. "Northernelves." He reached over his shoulder and grasped the hilt of his sword. With one smooth motion, Gildan pulled forward his hand, unsheathing his beloved blade. He held the five-foot-long weapon down at his side. "Something is not right here."
Chapter Four: A Familiar Face
"This is strange," Seth whispered.
"Are they friend or foe?" Lorn asked.
"Quiet, dwarf!" Gildan commanded. "Let me handle this! Everyone, move!" He waved his sword at those in the street. "Stand aside, all of you!" As quickly as they were able, the good citizens of Dunane got out of the road, jostling one another and cramming into the alleyways, until at last the street was clear but for Gildan and his company--and the three oncoming riders. Gildan stared as the white horses of the Northern elves raced toward them. "They appear to be of royalty--two of them, at least," the mercenary observed.
The lead rider of the Northern elves glanced up and saw the four riders in a line, blocking the way ahead. With not enough space to pass safely, he reluctantly reined in his horse. The two behind him stopped as well, all three drawing to within mere feet of Gildan's company. The leader of the Northlings was an elf-prince. Gildan looked into the stranger's cold blue eyes. He was tall and well built, with a broad jaw and upright posture--the very picture of royalty--with long red hair that stood out against the white fur around his neck. Studying the trio, Gildan could see that each wore the same garb: a silver chest plate with white fur trimming the neck and shoulders, a silver stomach plate, and silver armor about the thighs. From neck to foot, each wore a suit of golden scales like a dragon's, on each arm a gloved gauntlet, and knee-high boots protecting the legs. From each man's thick leather belt hung a sheathed sword, half hidden beneath a long white apron that draped to the knees. The wind caught their white capes trimmed with the gold and red triangular pattern of royalty--much like the pattern on Gildan's cape. The only difference in dress was that the last of the three wore a bronze headband, while the other two wore gold.
"Stand aside, mercenary!" the lead Northern elf shouted. "Royalty claims this road over the lesser folk!"
"You are mistaken," replied Gildan. "I am not below you or any other. All kingships and the like have no hold over my existence."
"I would hold my tongue if I were you!"
"Not necessary. I say and do as I wish."
The prince surveyed Gildan and laughed. "I pity you; truly I do. You try to emulate that overpriced, secondhand sword wielder…" He paused in thought. "I forget his name." He looked more closely at the elf-mercenary. "Gundagrin. Yes, that's the one." The prince shook his head. "Pitiful."
"I am Gildan Gundagrin," declared Gildan.
"Seems impossible from the stories I have heard," the prince replied. "Gildan Gundagrin is said to be tall and magnificent, yet you are small, and fouler-looking than what has been told."
"Tales fall short of me," Gildan said. "My sword and I are legendary, however; I have proved this many times over." He raised his sword slightly to give the prince a glance at the ancient weapon. "Pray you never fall victim to my blade."
"I know I am a greater sword wielder than you, mercenary."
"Then what is your name?" Gildan asked. "Let me see if I have heard it before."
"I am Prince Arnanor, son of King Elgast, ruler of the Northern Kingdom. I am heir to my father's throne."
Gildan looked distinctly unimpressed. "Sorry, Arnanor. I have never heard of you or your steel."
"Then you will know of me now."
"Yet I haven't the time to fool with you," Gildan said, wanting to get on with the quest.
"In haste, are we?" the prince inquired. Looking at the three who accompanied Gildan, he turned his mind to thoughts of their purpose.
"It is not your place to know of us."
"So you say," Arnanor retorted. "I ask that you stand aside. We must speak to Zelok at once."
"Does your coming concern the stolen moon, Beldas?"
"Yes, Gundagrin, it does."
"Then there is no need to seek Zelok out."
"Why? Are you deliberately trying to steer me away from my quest?"
"Yourquest?" Gildan laughed.
"Do not mock me," Arnanor snapped.
"I am commander of Zelok's company. We now depart to seek an answer to this downfall."
Arnanor was astonished. "You?He could find no better?"
Gildan left the comment alone, saying, "I suggest you return northward before Mudalfaen knows you are here."
"They will not know of our brief alliance with Zelok."
"I am afraid to inform you, but they will now," Gildan said slyly as he turned to Seth. Arnanor looked at Highbinder's badge, and his mouth fell open in dismay. "The Council rides with me to my ultimate victory."
"So they finally decide to help," Arnanor murmured. Pointing imperiously to Seth, he said, "You there!"
"Yes, my lord?"
"Why hasn't the Council dispatched aid to my kingdom? Do they find amusement in the suffering of my people?" His pale complexion flushed to red as he gritted his teeth. "Our strength declines! The ice formations shift, and the earth trembles our halls! I will not be denied passage into this company! I will die before any more of my people do!"
"You are forbidden to join us, sire. The Council would never approve such an action by royalty. I must hold true to the laws of Mudalfaen." Seth did not like this confrontation, but he had to be firm, Mudalfaen had strict policy against allowing nobility to engage in battle personally.
"I will follow the four of you whether you accept me or not! I believe our lives are worth it. We accept the sacrifice."
"Do you also accept the swift punishment the Council will rain down upon you, your followers here, your father, and your kingdom? Have you thought of this, my lord?"
"What would the Old Laws do to me, a prince?" He smirked and leaned forward on his steed, awaiting a response. "Out with it, boy!"
"As I recall from study," Seth replied, "you will either be imprisoned for the rest of your Londorian existence or put to death--unable to pass to Ethindar. Your companions here shall face the same. Your kingdom will be considered banished from the Mudalfaen Alliance, and all aid will be stricken from your people. Any problem that the Northern Kingdom faces will be your father's alone to mend. Your homeland will grow vulnerable, Prince Arnanor."
"Vulnerable?" Arnanor nearly shouted. "Vulnerable, you say? The Northern Kingdom will never be vulnerable if the heavens are balanced again! Even if Mudalfaen bans my kingdom, we shall be strong forevermore."
"Yet you will not be able to see this, due to your own chastisement. I will not allow you to begin this chain of events. I am sorry." Seth lowered his head, hoping this was the end of the debate, but he could feel Arnanor's eyes upon him.
"Save your breath," Arnanor replied. "We come no matter what you say."
"He is a stubborn one, Seth," Gildan said. "His head is as thick as that armor he wears."
"Seth," Arnanor said, etching the name into his mind. "I shall keep you in my sight at all times. You
r badge will not save you from my fury."
"Do you expect me to uproot my entire way of life so that it pleases you?" Seth asked.
"I just expect you to watch your footing."
Gildan spoke. "I shall allow the three of you into our party." While Seth looked at him with obvious bafflement, Gildan nodded and added, "I know that you do not agree, Seth, but you heard what Zelok told us. He said we must find what has happened to the moon--at all costs. You cannot place rules on times like these." Gildan smiled. "Besides, I would dearly love to see Arnanor's work with the blade."
"What?" Seth replied.
"You are wiser than I thought, Gildan," Arnanor said, clearly pleased.
"I do not like you, Arnanor," Gildan was fast to say. "Just trust my judgment, will you, Seth?"
"Listen to the mercenary," Arnanor encouraged. "Not even our father knows we are here. After we find what happened to the moon, we three shall ride into the shadows."
"And if royalty dies?" Seth asked. "You know I will have to answer to Mudalfaen for that."
"We are gifted, Sir Knight," the elf-prince said. "We three will not perish before you."
"Then welcome," Gildan said. "Who follows you?"
Seth sat mute, unable to believe that his opinion was being ignored utterly.
"This, whom you see behind me, is my sole brother, Prince Muron."
Muron smiled--an act that Arnanor appeared unable to perform. He was only five feet tall and frail. His short hair was yellow and curly. "Greetings, good sirs," he said politely.
"Silence," Arnanor said sharply.
"And at Muron's side is the imperial knight, Sir Geil. He is the greatest warrior of his generation, and guardian over my brother--protecting Muron is Geil's only function."
Geil did not respond to his introduction but kept his full attention on the younger prince. One hand remained on the pommel of his sheathed sword. Of a height with Arnanor, he sat tall on his steed, his pale red hair tied back and falling just below his shoulders.
"Who are our other companions?" Arnanor asked. Each was given a short introduction as the Northern elves' blue eyes scanned Zelok's party one by one. "I think it high time to ride!" Arnanor declared boldly. Receiving a glare from Gildan, the prince added, "Sorry, mercenary. We are ready on your word."
"Yes. You will be," Gildan replied. "I am the authority here. Your title lies useless outside your borders. Do not forget this." The Northern elves parted as Gundagrin and his three followers rode forth. Arnanor turned his horse about and rode just behind Gildan. Seth rode third, followed by Lorn. Prince Muron was fifth, with Geil riding uncomfortably close behind. Malander kept well back from the others, riding alone in silent misery.
As Gildan guided the company eastward just outside the gateway, the Dunane people, watching their only hope for deliverance ride down the street, sent up silent prayers. And as Zelok's party disappeared from view, the Dunane went back to their affairs.
The riders climbed a steep hill to the east. Halfway up, Lorn drifted from formation, and noticing this from the corner of his eye, Seth, too, fell out. Muron quickly filled the gap and trotted happily along behind his brother. As Arnanor pressed Gildan with questions about the journey, trying to find a weak link in the mercenary's leadership, Lorn stopped and looked at Norganas with sorrow. He did not want to remain with Zelok and his subjects, but fear over this unknown trek gripped his heart. Seth pulled near his longtime friend and inquired, "Something troubles you?"
Lorn sat still and fidgeted with the reins in his hands. So many ideas floated in his mind, and the ability to structure a comprehensible sentence did not come easily. "I am at a loss for words, Seth. I fear that this quest may be the end of me. I am not able to fend for myself if we are attacked." Then an even greater horror came into his imagination. "What if a wizard puts a spell on me? What if something happens to you? I could not handle separating from you in tragedy. I simply could not."
Seth patted Lorn on his shoulder and replied, "Do not worry yourself into a mess. We may not see any sort of struggle. No use fretting over things that may not occur. You will be quite safe." The rest of the company was on the flat hilltop, and they did not slow their pace. "We must not be left behind. Will you be all right?"
"I suppose," he answered.
Seth led the way, and both were surprised to see the company at a standstill. Arnanor looked at Seth as he rode to the center of the gathering. "Where were you?" the prince asked.
"Nowhere, my lord."
"I will not tolerate lingering, Sir Knight."
"I do regret our tardiness."
Gildan scanned the horizon and focused on the mountains to the east. He had no inclination where to begin. No true place in Londor spoke to his soul, though a southerly direction was his first preference. The elf had been to many of the planet's kingdoms. The Dunane Kingdom was close to the northern tip of the continent, with only Arnanor's homeland lying farther above. If they wished to reach the southern edge and its ocean, they must cross twelve countries. Gildan knew that southward lay a greater chance for a lead.
Arnanor drew as near to Gildan as possible. "What are you thinking? Is the responsibility of leading too far a burden for you?"
"Not at all," said Gildan. "I've led expeditions many times before, Prince. I will never relinquish my authority to you." He pondered. "I am merely recalling the evils I have defeated before, in case they might give me a clue."
"You do not have a clue thus far?" Arnanor asked. "We are following you blindly?"
"I have ideas, yet nothing solid."
"Well, amuse me with an idea."
"I will lead the company south to cover more ground."
"South?" Arnanor laughed. "That will not do, mercenary. I say we ride west. My family has enemies old and new there."
"My intuition does not speak of the west. South, say I."
Arnanor continued arguing, and Seth joined the elves' debate. The three voices drowned one another out until at last Gildan ended the nonsense. "Enough!" Gildan turned to Lorn first. "What say you on the subject?"
"Please leave me out of this, sir," Lorn replied.
"Prince Muron?" Gildan turned to the younger prince.
"He has no voice in the matter," Arnanor finished for him. "I speak for the three of us and I say westward."
"Malander?"
Malander stared off into the distance. "What difference does it make?" He glanced at Gildan for a brief moment, then returned his gaze to the hazy horizon. "I don't care what direction you choose, elf. We will not succeed in time to save this worthless planet. All is lost. Just lead us to our deaths, will you?"
Seeing movement, Gildan turned his head to the forest and almost doubted his eyes. Someone was walking out of the woods--a robed figure trudging alongside a brown steed. Gildan's eyes shot wide and he immediately leaped down from his saddle. The robed man's face was concealed by the deep blue hat he wore. Smoke poured out of his mouth, rising thick from his shadowed form. He seemed not to see Gildan and the six others on the hill as he climbed slowly. "I cannot believe my sight," Gildan murmured.
The robed man looked up to see the elf-mercenary strolling toward him. "Gildan Gundagrin!" he said. "A sweet surprise I have found this day!"
"Randor!" Gildan cried with glee. "It is a blessing to see you alive!"
"Indeed it is." The two embraced in a long hug.
Gildan pulled back first and looked Randor over, half believing the wizard actually was there. The elf's memories were again flooded with the events of two months ago when the two witnessed the tragedy of Beldas. "I watched you die," Gildan said softly. "I laid you to rest in the cavern. It was not an easy thing to do." He lowered his head in sadness.
"Nonsense."
"How long did you remain in Erogd?"
"Not long."
"You must tell me what happened to you after the Obinoth and I left that accursed place."
"I will tell you all about it at another time. There are other pressing matters at
the moment."
"Very well."
"What is going on here?" Lorn inquired.
"It is too early to tell," Seth answered, looking on.
"So how have you been?" Randor asked, inspecting the elf's eccentric attire. He puffed on his pipe and slid his dark-tinted spectacles up his nose. "You still haven't changed in your dress, I see."
"I am well. Even in this tragic time my fortune grows and my skills are at their peak." Gildan looked at his clothing and added, "You know I dress in the finest materials." He patted Randor on the shoulder and said, "I have missed you."
"As I have missed you, Gildan." Randor puffed on his pipe, then said, "Let us now leave these sentiments aside for a while."
Gildan nodded respectfully. "What draws you in this direction?"
"A matter of great importance," replied the wizard.
"Seems we are all in haste this day."
"True."
"It is unfortunate that our paths make this chance crossing. I must leave your side now in answer to King Zelok." Gildan peered over his shoulder and made sure none of his followers listened in on the private conversation. Leaning nearer to Randor, the elf whispered, "Perhaps you can advise me on a starting place for…"
"For finding the moon?" Randor asked.
"Yes."
"A simple task you ask of me. I will assist you and your companions with a single point of reference."
"Are you not bound elsewhere?"
The wizard gave a faint smile. "I was under way to Norganas, but I do not feel like walking all that way," Randor replied wryly. "I am bound to Zelok's plea; his prayers have been filling the fields' winds for eight weeks now. Though he did not specifically ask for me, he did ask for one of the Randor Order to assist him. I do not know what my other brothers are facing at this time, so I decided to aid Zelok." Randor shook his head and reached into his cloak; pulling out a small black pouch, he topped off his tobacco pipe. Closing his eyes, he took in a long draw of smoke. "You can tell me what Zelok said to you as we head south."
Gildan felt relieved that his intuition still functioned. "So the clue we need does indeed lie to the south."
The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor Page 7