Fire-heart (Tales of Alterra, the World that Is)

by C S Marks

  Hallagond looked over at Hassan, who was flexing his great fingers in preparation for welcoming Hallagond’s neck into them. That will be for my brother to decide. “I just wanted to find out whether anyone so obviously dull-witted would be able to stand up and breathe at the same time,” he replied.

  Without further warning, Hassan roared like a bull and lunged at Hallagond, swinging at him with fists the size of large hams. Hallagond made very little effort to defend himself as one of the blows connected with his shoulder, knocking him halfway across the room. He lay in a daze, blood trickling from a gash in his forehead where it had hit the floor. Hassan roared again and lumbered over to where Hallagond lay.

  Rogond was now on his feet, a shocked and dismayed expression on his face. He drew his sword, realizing he would now have to save his brother’s life, but Hassan’s three cronies surrounded him at once.

  Hassan the Giant stood over Hallagond, growling. This sort of behavior was outside his experience. It was easier when they fought back, at least a little...yet now the upstart was insulting him again! It made no sense.

  “You think that blow was of any consequence?” said Hallagond, his words clearly understandable, though he was dazed. “I have taken harder blows from women. Your sister, for example.”

  Hassan raised his arm again, and Hallagond winced in anticipation of what might be his last encounter with this man’s fist. You’d better get over here and save me, Rogond, and I mean now! He still had made no move in his own defense.

  Yet it was not Hallagond who suffered the next blow. A bright dagger came seemingly from nowhere to lodge in Hassan’s right shoulder, causing him to bellow and drop his arm, as Estle leaped into the room, two other blades in her hands.

  At the same time, Rogond engaged Hassan’s cronies, all three of whom had rushed at him with drawn swords. Hassan pulled the dagger from his shoulder with a groan, casting it at Estle. It whistled past her ear as she moved to avoid it, calling to Hallagond.

  “Are you hurt? Get up, Al-amand…get up and fight!”

  Rogond fought hard against the three sutherlings, while also calling to Hallagond. “Are you whole? Get up, if you can!” Hallagond was still sitting half-dazed on the floor, actually unable to defend himself for the moment.

  Estle had distracted Hassan, but now she would need to contend with him. The hulking giant drew a huge, heavy scimitar, and rushed at her. She was quicker and more agile than he, but the sight of him terrified her. She knew that he could crush her to the ground in an instant, and she cried in dismay.

  This was too much for Hallagond, and he rose from the floor, drawing his own sword to aid her. The ensuing struggle was brief, but intense. It ended with the death of Hassan, who fell with Estle’s remaining dagger in his eye.

  Meanwhile, Rogond was tiring, for he fought against three foes. Hallagond and Estle came to his aid; they succeeded in gaining the tavern entrance, felling one of Hassan’s cronies as they did so. “Come on!” cried Rogond. “We must escape from this place before more of this man’s companions appear.”

  Estle shook her head. “You have no notion of what you have just done, either of you. Hassan and that other man have large families. We cannot remain in the Chupa—it is no longer safe. I must now leave with you, for they will blame me for this, and will kill me on sight. Whatever madness you have done has just cost me my home.” She looked hard at Hallagond, who would not meet her gaze. “I hope it was worth it,” she said, her voice as cold and bitter as a hard northern winter.

  El-morah and Mohani were dismayed and sorrowful upon hearing Hallagond’s tale. They knew and liked Estle. She had been a regular visitor at the inn, for she was fond of kaffa. “My friends, I regret we must say goodbye to you now,” said El-morah. “The Chupa will no longer be safe. You will need to gather your belongings and leave at once, before Hassan’s family can exact vengeance…I fear you can never return to our hospitality. We will aid you in your preparations, and we are grieved that you must leave us, but leave you must. We will not meet again in this place.”

  “Yet we may meet again in another,” said Rogond. “I’m sorry to have brought trouble...we will leave straightaway.” He bowed, and went to see to the preparations. The Elves had been collected and told of what had befallen, and they were making ready. Fima was especially saddened to leave Mohani’s children behind, for he had grown very fond of them.

  Hallagond had suffered some damage from Hassan’s great fist; he was still a little dizzy and did not move with his usual confident grace. Fima aided him in collecting and securing his few possessions.

  Estle was furious, though she did not yet know which of the brothers to turn her wrath upon. She went back to her dwelling, packed some of her belongings, and returned, leading a smallish chestnut gelding with a flaxen mane. Like it or not, she was part of the Company now.

  Estle and the Elves regarded one another in silence. Rogond and Hallagond were not speaking, either. Rogond pulled Fima up behind him, bracing himself for the inevitable grumbling, but it did not come.

  Bint Raed had elected to ride with the Company, even though she most likely could have stayed in the Chupa. She sensed the pall of apprehension and dismay that had settled over her friends; they did not want to leave the oasis under these circumstances. Finan sensed their disquiet, and pawed the ground continuously until Gaelen bade him stop.

  “Farewell, my friends,” said El-morah. “May the powers of heaven guide you, and give you safe passage to whatever your fates hold. It has been a great gift to know you. Farewell.”

  Rogond rode forward and bowed, presenting El-morah with a gift; it was a wonderfully carved pipe that he had brought from the Greatwood, and El-morah had admired it. “Think of your friends when you enjoy it,” he said with a slightly wistful smile. He turned and began to ride westward, not knowing as yet where he would go.

  With the exception of Hallagond, each member of the Company presented El-morah and Mohani with a small gift. Nelwyn and Galador, who were mindful of the role their friends had played in freeing Nelwyn, each gave a rather large lock of hair, which El-morah gravely accepted, even though he had not the slightest idea of what to do with it. Bint Raed gave a beautiful band of hand-woven silk. Gaelen, who rode up last, seemed particularly unhappy at their parting. “I have nothing to give you, my friends, for I have nothing of worth that I can spare. Yet I will always remember you, and you will ever have the gift of my friendship. I pray that it pleases you.” She bowed before them as Finan stood with his head lowered, his expression somber.

  Mohani spoke then to Gaelen: “Do not be troubled, for your gift of friendship is of great worth. I will add your names to my prayers, and I will always remember your song. Farewell, little wild spirit. Take care of Rogond, and safeguard him from his wayward brother. I suspect this whole affair is of his making.”

  “Hush! You know of no such thing,” said El-morah, yet Gaelen saw in his eyes that this was also his belief.

  She would reserve judgment until she heard the tale. She did not reply, but turned her head so that El-morah and Mohani would not see the sorrow in her bright eyes. Then she rode away from those good people, never to return.

  Chapter 15: THE FIRE-CLOAK

  The Company rode to the southwest, following Hallagond. There had been some discussion of going back to the Neela, but the idea was abandoned once Estle pointed out that Hassan’s people would expect it. It was many days’ swift travel to the next oasis, yet Hallagond knew the way, and since no one else could offer a better plan, they followed him. He was feeling so guilty and foolish by now that he would have done nearly anything to aid them.

  Bint Raed still rode with Nelwyn, which was all right, for Gryffa was a stout fellow and bore them easily.

  “Are you ever going to show us what is in that bundle that is of such almighty importance?” asked Gaelen, referring to the goods Bint Raed had brought from the weaving-shed. “If we cannot eat or drink it, you should probably have left it behind.”


  Bint Raed laughed. “That would be a most costly meal! It is of great worth. One should not love too well their own works, but I labored over it for many years, and it was nearly completed. I could not leave it.”

  “So, are you going to show us, that we might marvel at the wonder of it?” asked Gaelen. She was of curious mind, and had already seen examples of Bint Raed’s artistry. “It must be fabulous, if years of your labor went into it.”

  “And so it is,” said Bint Raed with some pride. “Few now have the skill to produce such things—the secret of their making was never widely known. The women of my family have passed the knowledge down over many generations, and when Al-Muniqui discovered that I had such abilities, he demanded that this thing be made. He never received it, and now I bring it because I sense there will be a need for it.”

  “So, what is it?” asked Gaelen again. She was on the verge of stamping her feet with impatience.

  “You are drawn to it, aren’t you?” asked Bint Raed. “There is something about it that you cannot resist. I have seen you place your hand upon the cloth that covers it, as if it calls to you.”

  Gaelen shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I am driven by curiosity, nothing more,” she said. Yet the bundle had called to her, in a way.

  Bint Raed smiled. “When we stop to rest I will show you what I have brought. Let us speak no more of it…you must be patient until then.” Gaelen was satisfied; she could wait a few more hours.

  “I miss El-morah and Mohani already,” said Nelwyn. This sentiment was shared by everyone. The Company had taken precious little rest since leaving Dûn Bennas, and El-morah’s house had been a safe and comfortable haven. Rogond had told the tale of the incident in Haifa’s tavern, and as a result no one was actually speaking to Hallagond for the time being.

  Estle had been particularly indignant. “You set up that entire, insanely reckless incident in the hope of escaping a life debt? Never mind. Don’t answer…I would rather not hear your voice ever again!”

  When the drink finally left Hallagond, he was utterly chagrined. The Company had shown him nothing but good will, and he knew that any one of them would fall defending him. In spite of his reckless behavior, they still allowed him to guide them. He smelled of drink, sweat, and filth. His hair and beard were unwashed and oily, and he bore an ugly gash on his forehead that would probably leave an equally ugly scar. Yet the Elves did not scorn him, though he noticed that Gaelen in particular strove always to remain upwind of him.

  He now felt an unfortunate sense of obligation to make certain that the Company at least found another safe haven, since they had been driven from the Chupa by his foolhardiness. There was a shortage of safe havens in the Ravani; it would probably be some time ‘ere they found one.

  He shook his head, knowing that this would not be a pleasant journey. Estle had already indicated that, had she known the nature of Hallagond’s predicament in the tavern, she would have let Hassan finish him. “It would have served you right. What a colossally stupid plan that was! Only drink and temporary derangement could have excused it.” Estle was rather direct in her dealings with people.

  “I’m sorry. I thought it was a good idea at the time,” he said. “Somehow, I expected a much different outcome. Wouldn’t be the first time…”

  “I’m sure,” said Estle. “But now we all must live with the consequences.”

  The Company made camp in the shelter of great stones so that they might rest during the heat of the day. Gaelen had not forgotten Bint Raed’s promise, but she kept silent while Bint Raed slept. Nelwyn offered Shiva’s healing salve to Hallagond, and for once he did not resist or complain; it was best to mind his manners for a while.

  Fima, who liked Hallagond and still trusted him, spread out his map, bidding Hallagond to examine it. “So, where are you taking us?” he asked. “Can it be found on this map?”

  Hallagond studied Fima’s map with interest, desperate to be useful in some way. “This is incomplete,” he said. “Here...let me add a few things.” Fima, who tried always to be in possession of ink, quill, and parchment, drew them forth. Hallagond then drew several new features onto the map. “This is where we are going. I don’t remember its name, but there is water there.” He gave the ink and the quill back to Fima. “I must sleep now. My head still aches, right along with the rest of my body, and I’m weary.” He drew his hood over his head to shade his eyes and was soon asleep.

  Estle kept to herself, as though determined to remain outside the Company. She had been told tales of Elves, and most were not flattering, hence she expected them to be haughty, arrogant, and cold-natured with little regard for men. Because they are immortal, and we are not. It’s the same as with very wealthy men who have inherited their fortune and done nothing to earn it. How dare they feel superior! She curled up in the shade, and tried to take rest.

  Rogond sat at the base of a tall stone, his long legs stretched out before him, having fallen asleep with his head at an odd angle. Gaelen gently slipped her arm behind his head, straightening his neck and settling him into a more comfortable position.

  Hallagond had awakened, for he found it difficult to sleep soundly in the open desert. He observed Gaelen as she tended Rogond, and he saw then that she truly loved him—never was a man treated with a gentler, more loving hand. There would be no scorn of men in her heart. Hallagond was saddened for a moment...did she not realize that Rogond would die, and that she would not share his fate afterward? Surely, Rogond knew this truth. Their love must be strong indeed, to endure in spite of the certainty of such a painful and final separation. Hallagond sighed. His brother was a fool to make such a choice, but he was, for now, a happy fool.

  When Gaelen was satisfied that Rogond would not awaken with a stiff neck, she left him, springing lightly up onto the ridge of stones that surrounded them. She paced slowly back and forth like a cat, keeping her eyes trained back the way they had come. Hallagond knew that her vigilance would not fail, and he was soon asleep again.

  In the lands near Tal-ailean, far to the north of the rocky shelter where the Company rested, Gorgon Elfhunter observed three young Wood-elves, who were searching for one of their companions. Search well, you vermin. You won’t like what you find…

  They finally did find their friend, standing horrified at the flayed, ruined body that swung slowly from its tether. None of them had ever seen such a sight before, yet it was not the worst sight they would see. Gorgon purred deep in his chest as he readied his weapons. Look on the bright side. The sight of your companion won’t haunt you for long. They were trying to cut the body down, and didn’t hear him coming.

  The Company had made good time during the evening hours. They decided to stop and rest to save the horses, as Hallagond had estimated that they were less than a day from their destination.

  Gaelen and Nelwyn had gone hunting by moonlight, and they brought back many strange and interesting creatures for Fima’s roasting-coals. The dwarf had insisted on making a fire against the chill of the desert night; he had noticed that when the large, thorny desert plants died, their flesh fell away to reveal a woody skeleton beneath. This would burn as well as firewood, for it was surprisingly hard and dense. He had already made himself a beautiful walking-stick with it, nearly dulling one of his small axes, for the wood was like iron. It burned for a long time and made excellent coals.

  Now his eyes widened as the Elves laid their gifts at his feet. Desert animals are mostly active under the moon, not the sun, and Gaelen and Nelwyn easily caught those that were unwary. Here was a very large lizard, some smaller lizards, and an assortment of soft-furred animals that looked rather like rats with very long, furry tails and large hind feet. Here was a huge hare with very long, black-tipped ears, which delighted Hallagond, for according to him they were fine eating (if a bit stringy). Gaelen was especially proud of her catch, for the animal was swift and it had been difficult. It turned and zigzagged, flying across the sand with great speed, and she nearly lost it. They had also enco
untered several snakes, but they left those strictly alone.

  “You need to be wary of the lizards, as well,” said Hallagond, prodding the big one with the toe of his boot. “Some of them are venomous, and you do not want to be bitten by any of them.”

  “I do not want to be bitten by anything,” said Nelwyn. “But why is it such a dire thing to be bitten by a lizard?”

  “They have a black bite, and even a tiny wound may fester so badly that death may result,” said Hallagond. He had seen a man die from such a bite, raving with fever and stinking of decay.

  “Now, of course, you don’t have anything to fear. Your life-force will banish the agents of disease…you have no idea how fortunate you are!”

  “I have every idea,” said Gaelen, remembering her experiences with Rogond and Thorndil.

  Estle and Hallagond aided Fima with the meal; lizard was a dish new to him and he had not the slightest notion of how to prepare it.

  Bint Raed did not relish the sight of lizards being prepared for cooking, and had gone to sit alone under the moon. Perhaps this would be a good time to approach, thought Gaelen, kneeling down beside her. “Will you show me now what you are carrying? I would truly like to see.”

  “I will,” replied Bint Raed with a slightly enigmatic smile. “In fact, I intend to give it to you. I owe you my life and my freedom, and you will appreciate this work more than will any of your friends.” She moved to her small pile of belongings, taking the soft bundle in both hands. Then she sat upon the sand, bidding Gaelen do likewise, and revealed a thing the like of which no Elf of the Greatwood had yet seen.

  “What is it?” Gaelen’s voice was still and quiet, yet alive with wonderment. “It looks like…like tiny flames in the dark. Almost like water that smolders and burns. What is it?”

  “It is a fire-cloak,” said Bint Raed proudly. “And though its brilliance is barely discernable in the dark, in the sun it appears as living flame. I have been laboring on this one for nine…no, the better part of ten years. I give it now to you, for you possess the spirit best suited to wear it.”