"It is an honor to be within your walls once again. You look as beautiful as the last time I saw you."
Eina lowered her head and smiled, pushing back her long, dark hair, barely exposing the pointed tips of her ears. Her clothes were stained from the spirits and brew her establishment created and sold, yet the effects of labor upon her garb did not bother her.
"How go things here?" Randor asked.
"Never better," Eina laughed. "Ah, I miss the peaceful nights sometimes, you know, but I've grown accustomed to this wall-to-wall madness you see tonight." She grabbed a tall, clean glass and placed it before her old colleague. "What can I serve you this fine evening?"
"I need something from you," Randor whispered as he leaned closer, not wanting anyone to catch wind of his conversation.
Eina frowned and darted her blue eyes about the room. "All depends on what it is," she answered softly.
"Have you seen anything out of the ordinary within the past three months or more?"
"Why do you ask?"
"This concerns the…" Randor paused, spying for eavesdroppers. "The moon."
"Say on, my friend." Eina grew curious, wanting any new information on the event that had captivated the entire community. Gossip spread wildly, and anything worth hearing was welcome.
"I am looking for an S-shaped symbol, with jagged edges and two small circles within its curves." Eina bit her lower lip and tried to think whether she had seen such a thing. "Does this sound familiar to you?"
"An S-shaped symbol, jagged…" She trailed off in thought.
"This is crucial."
"Can't say that I have," Eina admitted. "I am sorry."
"Not your fault," Randor sighed. "It could be anywhere--if it even does truly exist on Londor."
"I will keep a lookout for it, I promise." Eina extracted an old dust-covered bottle of wine from beneath the counter and popped the cork. "Here you go…" She filled the glass to the silver brim with the sweet-smelling gold liquid and tucked the bottle away to prevent its sale to patrons. "Free of charge." After a quick nod, Eina smiled again and resumed her duties of taming the wild throng at the bar.
"Many thanks." Randor noticed Malander not far away and raised his glass in salute, receiving a nod in confirmation. He began to drink and caught Malander's full attention by pointing to the table. It was time to assemble everyone under his command. Malander acknowledged the gesture and pushed away from the bar, again shoving his way rudely through the crowd.
"Watch where you're going!" someone shouted at him.
"Petty fools," Malander said under his breath.
"There's Randor," Seth announced happily, saluting him with his half mug of ale. "A toast to our leader!"
"Here, here!" Lorn added, both laughing as they drank more.
Randor set his glass on the table as he took his chair. "Still nothing," he said ruefully.
"Your contact could not help?" Seth asked, disappointed. "Where do we turn from here?" Hope dimmed in the knight, for he still had no solid time frame for his journey's end. He was too attached to having a set plan, and this perpetual uncertainty was new to him--it was not a feeling he enjoyed.
"South is still the way of our quest--at least, this is what I sense."
"We will not rest until the moon is returned to the heavens," Arnanor declared, and Muron and Geil placed their hands over their chests in the Northern way of agreement.
Without the company's knowing, a group of five tall, pale men wearing long, dark overcoats had entered the tavern, keeping along the wall near the entrance. Each had dark, short hair combed forward, and a tattoo under his left eye: four thin lines of black running down the cheek. The shortest line was nearest the nose, and they grew longer as they reached the outside corner of the men's gray-colored eyes. Their presence was unfelt as they sat at a cleaned table in the corner farthest from Randor and company.
"What tidings do you bring from the Fatherland?" Randor asked Seth.
"I wasn't there very long, I am afraid--just three days." Seth readjusted his cloak and leaned back in his chair. "It is always an honor to be within the Council's walls. Their hospitality far exceeds any other in the world."
"I find it odd the Council has not acted to resolve this issue of the moon's demise," Arnanor volunteered. It had been much on his mind of late and had made his faith in the great leaders falter. "Two months, and all they can do is sit within their halls within the Great Tree and debate other issues."
"The Council was forming a method, I believe," Seth said uncertainly.
"And the greatest insult I find here is that they sent oneof their servants away, without any knowledge of where to begin. Why could they not send an entire legion?" Arnanor shook his head and crossed his arms. "Their magic has turned ill."
"If there is one region that is safe from illness, it would be Mudalfaen," Randor said. "If we are unlucky in our search and things grow worse, we will have no choice but to retreat there."
"Except the princes, of course," Seth added in his own defense. "I dare not march into Mudalfaen with elvish royalty at my side. It would be the end of me."
One of the dark-garbed men stood and moved slowly along the edge of the crowd, surveying the room, while the other four quaffed their ale. With the great diversity of patrons in the place, the silent young man attracted no particular attention. He was not yet close enough to Randor to be detected. Fortunately, however, Seth's eyes were fixated on the red band on the figure's right arm as it passed amid the earth-toned colors of the throng. The red band was fastened securely on his sleeve--with a black emblem at its middle. Seth rubbed his eyes and stared in disbelief. "My mind plays with me," he said softly. His statue-like posture drew the interest of his companions.
Arnanor shot from his seat and leaned his full weight on the table. "There it is," he said, gritting his teeth. His hand went immediately to his sword's hilt, halted only by a slight gesture from Randor.
"Patience," Randor said softly. He could sense the tension around the table--and indeed, how could he blame them? Randor wanted answers, too. The figure blended back into the crowd, and the symbol was no longer in view.
"Did you see who was wearing it?" Lorn asked.
"No," Seth replied, on the edge of his chair.
"Let me have a closer look, Randor," Arnanor pleaded.
"Your wish is granted, brother," Muron said, leaning in toward Arnanor as they saw the young man appear from amidst the crowd again.
"Remain calm," Randor whispered sharply.
Sitting back down, Arnanor smoothed his expression to one of blandness.
The dark figure strolled rigidly across the floor, his gray eyes scanning every table he passed. His black overcoat was of fine quality, with long lapels trimmed in red. Underneath this was a long, dark jacket, and pants tucked tightly into knee-high boots of black leather. Randor glanced casually to see if a sword was hidden beneath the coat, but saw none.
All three Northern elves sat very still, hands on their sword hilts. Randor then leaned forward in his chair and smoked the last bit of tobacco left in his pipe. The complete silence of the company was uncomfortable and a little too obvious, should anyone question their true business here. No one spoke, for they were too heavily focused on the symbol.
Gildan gazed closest at the man as he walked past the table, looking directly into his eyes. The elf raised his glass, easing the tense situation somewhat. And the symbol was gone once more. "He is returned to the opposite corner of the tavern now," Gildan remarked.
"Let one of us mime his actions and scour the room," Arnanor suggested, clearly volunteering for the task.
"That will do us no good," Gildan objected. "You're asking for trouble."
"That is your opinion."
"He is not alone, I can promise you that," said Gildan.
"How are you so sure?" Arnanor wanted to know.
"Soldiers like that do not travel solo."
"A soldier?" Seth said, surprised.
"Very muc
h so, and an extremist at that." Gildan turned to Highbinder, who did not comprehend the statement. "Haven't you learned the appearances of soldiers?"
"Yes," he replied, "But never have I seen one quite like that. Very oddly dressed--nothing like a typical military man."
"You do have a point," Gildan said, "but you must look at the poise and the eyes. These are common traits."
Randor formed a plan while Gildan and Highbinder discussed the matter further. "Seth," he began, "take yourself and…" Randor looked each companion over and finished, "…take Malander and wait outside. Follow the symbol to wherever it may go locally. Once you find a point of investigation, one of you return to me and report your findings."
"Yes, sir," Seth replied without deliberation.
"You two are dismissed."
"Ready, Malander?" Seth asked as he rose.
Malander grumbled something sounding like "Nonsense!" as he followed the knight outside.
"Do be careful," Lorn whispered to himself.
"We are gaining steady ground on our quest," Gildan said excitedly.
* * *
The two paced the stone walkway in front of the tavern for what seemed like three hours. Malander grew impatient at being confined to this area with Seth. Keeping his arms crossed, he looked down at his feet, placing them one in front of the other. Boredom came quickly as darkness filled their surroundings with the chirr of crickets and occasional bursts of laughter from within the tavern. Leaning on the window that was closest to their targets, Seth saw that five soldiers of the symbol sat at a table. To avoid suspicion, he only peered in every so often. From what he could see, the five sat very close together, engaged in deep conversation. Many pints were placed before them and refilled as soon as they became empty, all the while making great clouds of smoke from their long, white pipes.
"This is a waste of time," Malander snarled. "I need another drink."
"We're on a specific task," Seth replied.
"Task?" Malander replied, laughing deeply. "I hate to inform you that this is no formal task, my good knight. We are mercenaries now."
"Perhaps you are, but I was assigned to this journey by--"
"Yes, yes," Malander interrupted. "No need to repeat yourself. Must you keep mentioning Mudalfaen? I'm rather upset with them right now."
"I am proud of my position beneath them."
"Just keep it to yourself." Malander turned away and gazed out at the dark, drab street--even that was more interesting than hearing another yawner about the importance of the Great Tree. "Bloody Council."
Seth decided not to pester him any more for a while, though it disturbed him that anyone would ask not to hear the praises of Mudalfaen. If his memory served him right, Malander's homeland of Muldane first pledged to the Order of the Great Tree after the Dark War of the Fourth Age. Perhaps the people of Muldane had had enough of the Council. Mudalfaen was mostly populated by elves, though the surrounding kingdoms were not. Seth could sense a resentment of elves in Malander.
"If I have to wait any longer," Malander growled, "I will shred the next person I see."
"Hopefully it will not be much longer," Seth replied confidently.
Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say, for Malander strode over to him, pointing his finger at Highbinder's chest, and said, "I've just about had my fill of you, boy. A word or two with those ne'er-do-wells who did this to the moon would end this entire problem! Then I can rid myself of you and those elves!"
"Randor would not approve."
"You think I care? He is not my master."
"He is your rightful leader under order of King Zelok."
"Why did I ever agree to this?" Malander repented aloud.
Seth faced the window again, sliding his hands into the warm, deep pockets of his jacket. Time made his thoughts fly away hundreds of miles to the Realm of Dan, which he sorely missed. He longed to cross again the winding rivers between the hills and attend the lavish parades with pipers and with banners raised high above the streets. How he longed to smell the flower petals that rained from the tall buildings; he even missed the way they felt brushing against his face. But these thoughts only made him miserable now. Shaking off the images of home, he then noticed that the five soldiers were gone. "We have movement--yet I do not know when it happened." He pressed up against the window to see where they went.
"You've lost them?" Malander griped. "Excellent work."
"No, wait," Seth replied with a relieved sigh. "They are coming out."
As the door opened, revealing the five men they had been watching, Seth's heart raced at the sight of the symbol, and he felt almost sick at how close it was to him. He couldn't help but watch as the soldiers marched out, all five looking precisely alike in every way. Remarkable! he reflected. When the leader met his eyes with a mistrustful gaze, Seth began to cough violently. This only drew more attention to him as the five looked on along with Malander, who wanted only to strangle his companion for being so conspicuous.
Next to Fallon's End, the soldiers turned down a narrow, dim alleyway, where they vanished, with only their footsteps to attest to their whereabouts. Malander stood before Seth and shoved him upright, but he could not control the dry coughs that beset him.
"Are you trying to get us killed?" Malander blasted.
"I do not know what came over me."
"If we are to follow these devils down the alley, I don't want you to make a sound, or I will silence you for good! Understand?" His expression could have killed weeds. Seth did not want to fall further afoul of Malander, knowing he was no match for the grim warrior.
"Clear as a Mu--I mean, clear as morning."
"Hurry before we lose their trail." Malander grabbed him roughly by his shoulder armor and dragged him down to the alley's entrance.
Inside they trod softly so as not to repeat the mistake of the soldiers' loud footfalls. The path ahead was littered with broken crates, pot shards, and some wooden wheels once used on merchant carts, and foul smells assailed them as they stepped nimbly around puddles of water and filth. Seth kept one hand over his mouth and leaned with the other hand on the slimy exterior wall of the tavern. He could taste again the ale he had drunk earlier as it tried to make its way back out.
Finally letting go of him, Malander drew several steps ahead. There was no sign of the soldiers, but no other outlet presented itself--thus, the five had to be hereabouts.
"Surely they have not flown over these high walls," Malander whispered, stopping his progress to make sense of it all.
"Why have we stopped?" Seth whispered on catching up with him. He saw nothing down the path except the furtive shadows of rodents prowling for scraps among the crates. "Did the soldiers slip away?"
"Quiet," Malander replied. "You're ruining my train of thought." Sniffing the air, he smelled a strange fragrance--it reminded him of a rare flower that grew in Muldane. But a mixture of molten ash from a volcano corrupted the sweet smell of the flower. Why would anyone want to smell that way? he wondered. "Let us go."
As the two followed at a safe distance, the five soldiers reached the end of the long corridor and stood in a stone courtyard, near a large castle with many high towers. The leader clapped his hands for attention while Malander and Seth watched from the alleyway, crouched behind some rotten barrels. It seemed that few people ever came this way and that the castle was abandoned, as if the citizens of Nar-Fhandon had disowned it ages ago and preferred not to speak of it.
"What do you make of it?" Seth whispered.
"I am still debating."
"I wonder if a clue to the moon's downfall lies in that castle."
"Don't be too optimistic. It looks like no one has set foot across that threshold in years."
They remained huddled against the wall for many long minutes as the leader of the five soldiers continued his speech. Tired of waiting, Malander decided on his own to make a move, and he rose and came around the crates, in plain view for all to see. In a panic, Seth crawled forward, peerin
g around the barrels. "What are you doing?"
Malander flicked down with his arm behind him, trying to silence his companion, but Seth stood up, wiping the debris from his knees. At once the four soldiers with their backs to Malander, in perfect unison, spun around and drew the swords concealed beneath their cloaks. Their speed proved worthy, catching the two by surprise. Outraged at the appearance of the intruders, the leader broke through the ranks.
"Who are you, and why do you shadow us?"
Neither replied as they stepped backward and tried to look harmless. Malander very much wanted to draw his sword and act, leaving the questions for afterward. His hand itched to move to his weapon, but something inexplicable held him at bay.
The leader strode toward the alley, bearing down on Malander, whom he no doubt deemed the primary threat. "Why do you shadow us? I demand a response!"
"You have us all wrong," Seth answered.
"Then you will hasten to tell me of your intrusion."
"My friend and I are mere travelers, on an item of business. That is all."
"I think not," replied the leader. "By your badge I trust you not. What is your name, Council follower?"
"I am Sir Seth Highbinder, son of Master Jansonot."
The leader looked at both men closely and came to a quick conclusion. "Since when does a brainwashed servant of Mudalfaen travel alone with a high knight of Muldane? Explain your business thoroughly if you wish to live."
"The details of our business are secret, known only to the Council and to us."
"Indeed." Still, the leader was obviously not satisfied. Crossing his arms, he stepped even closer to Malander and tilted his head back in a haughty manner. He stood toe to toe with Malander, towering over him by a good five inches. "Who are you, pray tell?"
"I am the nightmare of my enemies and the secret misery of my people," Malander boasted. Seeing the leader occupied in thought, he placed his fingertips on the pommel of his sword. One slash of his weapon would rid him permanently of this arrogant person who stood too close for his liking. Never did he let anyone not proven to be friend or ally this near. He could feel the warm exhalations from the inquisitive soldier who loomed over him. "You will call me nothing, for that is what you are to me."
The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor Page 19