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

by C S Marks

  She knew that he had not expected a declaration of love from her. He sat in silence, looking at the ever-brightening horizon.

  “Have you nothing to say?” she said at last, in a steady voice that belied the fear in her heart. “Will you not answer?”

  “You do not know all that I must consider,” he said. “I beheld something else in my vision, something I have revealed to no one save Rogond. Gorgon Elfhunter is being drawn to the Company, somehow.”

  Estle’s eyes grew round with fear. The tale of Gorgon had unsettled everyone who heard it, and she had no desire to ever cross paths with him.

  “How do you know this?”

  “Because he was there, standing in witness to the burning of the City. He warned me not to stand in his path. I don’t know whether it is my destiny to thwart him, or to aid him unwittingly. I don’t know what to do.” They both heard the horses stirring, chortling at Gaelen as she approached them with their breakfast of boiled barley.

  “Soon the others will be gathering to make their intentions known. I need to ponder this matter, at least until then,” said Hallagond.

  Estle knew he could sense her disappointment, feeling it in her hands, noting the sag of her shoulders out of the corner of his eye. “Know this,” he continued. “Although I must keep my own counsel for the moment, you have aided me greatly. Know also that my heart will never leave you, even as my head will deny it. Take no dismay from my words as yet.” He gave her a tentative smile, which she managed to return, even though they were both unsettled by what they had heard, and dreaded the choices before them.

  Gorgon stood beside the Ravani road, his pale eyes squinting painfully at the horizon. The Vixen had called him here; no doubt she thought to lure him into harsh lands that would weaken him with the sun and the lack of water. “You think you’ve outsmarted me, don’t you?” he whispered. “You think I lack the courage to chase you to the ends of the world? How foolish you are.” He shifted inside his dark armor, which was heating up alarmingly. “I will travel by night,” he muttered. “Darkness will be my friend, and I can hide from the sun.”

  Can you? Gelmyr’s sarcastic voice raised the hair on the back of Gorgon’s neck, though he did not actually see the Elf this time. I certainly don’t see many hiding places around here!

  “What would you know about it? Go away!”

  You’re afraid of the desert. You doubt your ability to cross it, which is one of the smarter thoughts you’ve had in a while. Ha! I don’t blame you…nothing but heat and dry, you slimy creature of the cold and dark. Good luck, I say!

  Gorgon roared into the empty air, then drew his blade and sank the edge of it into the stump of his left wrist. The pain brought back his resolve. It reminded him that Elves felt real pain—pain that he inflicted on them—and he had nothing to fear. The pain was about the only thing that would make Gelmyr go away once he appeared.

  He stood in silence for a few moments, hoping the wretched Elf had left him alone again. He turned slowly around, seeing no one, hearing nothing but the wind hissing over the sand. He gave a satisfied grunt, licked the blood from his arm, and went to find shade.

  “What do you want, Gaelen?” muttered Hallagond, thinking that an encounter with her was the last thing he desired at that moment. “You’re not as stealthy as you suppose, you know. I heard you approach.”

  She lifted her chin in mock hauteur. “I was not attempting to be stealthy, Hallagond. Even if you would try to avoid me, I would find you. If you tried to run, I would catch you. There’s no need to creep up on you unaware.” She hunkered down before him in the sand; he was still sitting where Estle had left him.

  He tried to look past her, but she kept shifting such that he could not avoid her gaze. At last he quit trying. Where are Azori and Azok when I need them? “I say again, Gaelen, what do you want?”

  She hesitated for a moment. Hallagond didn’t want her assistance, and had most certainly not asked for her advice, yet she needed to speak her mind. “Regrettably, you are on the verge of having to listen to more meddling sanctimony,” she said. “Just know that it is well-intentioned. I realize you’re struggling with the choice before you, and I promise to waste very little of your time.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” growled Hallagond, “and you have since wasted quite a lot of my time. But the pressure of having pent-up opinions that you haven’t aired might very well damage you, so say what you have to say.”

  Gaelen spoke her piece, and then left Hallagond to his thoughts. As he looked after her retreating back, he knew several things that he had not known before, and he now understood her a lot better. He knew that he had several friends among the Company, and that he could count her among them. And though he would not have predicted it, she had aided his choice. Gaelen was caught up in a dark fate of her own, even as he was, and his vision had made it clear that their paths would be woven together. Neither of them could know what the outcome would be. Hallagond stood upon legs that were shaky and stiff from sitting cross-legged on the sand, and then moved to join his companions. He hoped Fima had not eaten all of the breakfast sausages; he would need strength for the journey ahead.

  The Company gathered solemnly around Bint Raed, and each made clear his or her intentions, beginning with Fima: “I have studied nearly every manuscript in Mountain-home, and have availed myself of the storehouses of lore in Dûn Bennas. Now I learn of another treasury of the lost writings of the Tuathar, and you ask me whether I desire to go there? I ask you, what other choice could be made? I will not rest until I have seen this great sight for myself.”

  Bint Raed smiled at him. “This is of no surprise to me, Fima Lore-master, for I saw this in your eyes last night. You are aflame with desire for learning. You will be most welcome in my City.”

  Estle stood forth next. “My mother spoke of the Silver City that was her home. I have always desired to see it. Now I will go with Bint Raed to safeguard it.” Her eyes never left Hallagond’s as she returned to her place, as though she could hold him with her gaze.

  “How do you choose, Gaelen Fire-heart?” asked Bint Raed. “My city needs such warriors to defend her. Will you aid her?”

  Galador smiled at this unwitting-yet-appropriate insult. No Elf enjoyed being compared with the legendary Aincor Fire-heart, viewed by many as the most disastrously stubborn, willful, selfish being ever to breathe Alterran air.

  Gaelen took no offense. Everyone had expected her to leap to the defense of the Citadel, for she would surely not resist the offering of a new and preferably dangerous adventure. But she simply took one step forward, speaking to Bint Raed in a quiet voice. “You have said that there are no Elves in Dûn Arian. Are you certain?”

  Bint Raed nodded. “Reasonably certain,” she said. “There were none when I left years ago, and I do not know how they would have gained it since.”

  “Then I will go with Rogond Thaylon,” she said. “I will follow wherever his choice leads him.” Galador looked at her in surprise, as did Fima.

  Rogond was not at all surprised. Gaelen would not take the responsibility for harm that might come to the folk of the Citadel should Gorgon follow her there—she would defer to Rogond’s choice. Rogond was not sure that Gorgon would follow through these hard desert lands, where the heat and sun would not be his friend. He was a creature of shadow and darkness, of cool, damp mountains and underground deeps. Gorgon’s strength came at least in part from the suffering of Elves. Surely the mere promise of vengeance upon one lowly Wood-elf could not sustain such a sun-hating creature across a thousand miles of desert, no matter how much he despised her. Still…Gaelen and Gorgon share an unbreakable connection, and their hatred for one another is strong. There is real danger.

  He stepped forward. “I owe a life-debt to my brother Hallagond, and as such I cannot separate from him until that debt is repaid,” he said. “But all should know that I would choose to follow Bint Raed to the Citadel, for it is worth safeguarding. A Ranger goes where he is most needed,
and I am needed now to aid Bint Raed.”

  He paused for a moment, looking earnestly into his brother’s eyes. “I cannot allow what has happened before to change what must happen now, and in the time to come,” he said.

  All eyes turned then to Hallagond.

  “What will your course be, my brother?” asked Rogond in a very quiet voice. “Will you aid us, or will you turn from the only family you have left?”

  Hallagond looked from Estle to Gaelen to Rogond. He drew a deep breath. “You seem to think I’m having difficulty with this decision,” he said, as a crooked smile appeared on his face. “If you think that you’re all going off without me to this storied realm, where a man could expect to live in comfort for the rest of his days, then think once more. I would taste the fruits, drink of the water, and languish in comfort as surely as any of you. You may count me among your companions, weaver-woman.” He stepped forward to stand beside Estle, whereupon Rogond and Gaelen joined him.

  Nelwyn and Galador looked at each other and shrugged. “We want to see the forest,” they said simply.

  Bint Raed cautioned them all: “Be aware that this path may be the hardest one you have ever taken. We will need to prepare for it, and prepare well. I will guide you to a place where we can make ready.” Tears welled in her eyes. “You cannot know how grateful I am for all of you. May our journey be successful, with none of the Company lost. May we find the Citadel as fair as when I left it.”

  “Let’s all drink to that,” said Fima, passing around a flask of strong liquor that he had concealed on his person, so that everyone could have a share.

  When Estle met Hallagond the next morning, she was shocked to see that he was clean-shaven. “So that you may answer your question without annoying Galador,” he said. At first she stood staring at him with her mouth open. Then she burst out laughing, for Hallagond’s face was brown only to the level of his upper lip. Below that, it was fish-belly white. When he caught sight of his own reflection, he could not help but laugh along with her. After all, it was only hair. It would grow back. “Well? Aren’t you going to kiss your Elf?”

  “Perhaps later,” she said. “The sun is up, we have a journey to make, and I’m not ready to leave yet.” Before she returned to her preparations, she leaned over and gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek, which pleased him a great deal.

  The Company settled into its new purpose. It had been difficult not knowing where their paths would turn, merely wandering from place to place with no true direction, searching for someone that they might not find in lands they did not know, guided by a man they did not remotely trust. Once they had found Hallagond, things had improved.

  Now they were focused on the single task of making their way to the Citadel to warn the people of the approaching Scourge. They absolutely trusted their guide, Bint Raed. Each had a compelling reason for traveling to the City—Fima to avail himself of the library, Nelwyn and Galador to see trees as tall as hills, Estle to see the home of her mother’s people. Rogond wanted both to aid the Citadel and to take Gaelen to a place where Gorgon would be unlikely to follow. Gaelen wanted to lead Gorgon away from Elves, but where she would have assistance in defeating him.

  Though he had joked about wanting to see this legendary land of leisure, Hallagond was still uncertain, but he took comfort in being with the Company. Their acceptance of him was reassuring. He would not leave Estle, at least not until the desire of his own heart became clear.

  At Bint Raed’s direction, they would now make their way to the desert city of Mumari, the last reliable water-source before beginning the difficult crossing to the Citadel. Here they would combine all their resources to purchase supplies, including dromadin. Horses could not carry enough on their backs, and they required too much water and feed.

  Gaelen bristled at this, thinking Bint Raed meant to leave the horses. “I will not leave Finan behind,” she said. “If we must buy more dromadin to carry food and water for the horses, then we shall.”

  “I would never suggest otherwise,” said Bint Raed. “In fact, we will need to purchase another horse that I may ride; no horse should bear two riders on this journey.”

  Fima blanched at the thought of having to ride and control a horse by himself.

  “Do not fear, Fima Lore-master,” said Bint Raed with a smile. “We’ll lead you on one of the dromadin. I think you will find the view quite interesting.”

  “Hmmm….no doubt of it,” said Fima with a rather unconvincing smile.

  He had been trying to add to his map, but had long since run off the edge of the parchment. He had turned it over and continued on the reverse side. “So, where is this city we are going to?” he asked Bint Raed. She studied his crude but effective rendering with interest before taking the quill and drawing in the city of Mumari. She sketched a couple of the tall, brush-like trees to indicate water there. Fima smiled. “Very good,” he said. “Now can you draw the Citadel?”

  “Only if you provide me with another parchment, unless you do not mind inaccurate distances,” she replied. “On this parchment I can draw about two-thirds of the crossing, but no more.”

  “Oh, we cannot have inaccuracy—this map is for posterity. I intend to take it back north with me some day. Wait until Lady Ordath hears of my adventures! Not even she will have the knowledge that I will have gained. Ha! I’ll see if I can locate another parchment.”

  As he searched, Bint Raed drew in as much as she could on the back of his original map. He returned with a new parchment in his hand, his smile fading quickly as he looked over her shoulder. “The dreadful mountains…great salt wastes…fire-sands…winds of death…plains of dire thirst? What sort of horrible place are you leading us into?”

  “I told you the crossing would be difficult,” she replied. “And just because those things are on the map does not mean we’re going to travel through them. I wouldn’t blame you for having second thoughts, if your courage wavers.”

  Fima drew himself up importantly and set his jaw. “The courage of a dwarf waver? Obviously you have never known many dwarves. I am more concerned for the safety of the rest of the Company. Elves are more delicate than they appear, you know. I wouldn’t let a simple thing like…like fire-sands keep me away from that library!”

  Bint Raed smiled at him. “I will never doubt you, Lore-master. And we are planning on avoiding the sands, if we can.”

  “Well, of course we are,” said the dwarf. “But in the future it would be best that you not draw little death’s-head symbols all over the map. It might discourage the others.”

  Bint Raed bowed and took the fresh parchment from his hand, and then sat down before a flat rock, spreading the parchment before her so that she could draw the remainder of the map as best she could recall it. “When we get to the City, you will find maps that are very accurate; some gave their lives to make them.”

  This was not encouraging, and Fima held some dread in his heart. Though he had joked about the delicacy of the Elves, he was not so certain of his own strength in making the crossing. He had found the journey quite taxing enough already, and things were now expected to get much worse. Fima was old, and was nearing the end of his lifespan. The poison Sajid had given him had taken some of his vitality; he was not the same now as he had been.

  He drew a deep sigh. There was nothing to do for it now…he would find this great storehouse of lore, or die in trying. A fitting end for a lore-master, he thought, because once he learned of the existence of Salasin’s library, he could not live happily until he had gained access to it.

  Gaelen and Nelwyn had left the group and ridden ahead to scout the way, when Nelwyn noticed something dark upon the sand in the distance. “What’s that?” she asked Gaelen, pointing to the darkness on the pale sand. They reined in their mounts, peering into the bright sun, Gaelen shading her eyes with her hand.

  “I cannot tell from this distance,” said Gaelen, her nose in the wind. “But I think it is something not long dead. The black is probably vultur
es or ravens…it’s moving, anyway.”

  Nelwyn turned to her cousin. “Should we investigate, do you think?”

  Gaelen considered. “I don’t know why we should, but something compels me to do so, even though it will take us out of our way.” Nelwyn, who felt the same compulsion, agreed. The Elves approached with caution; it took a while to cross the distance, and they both wondered why some dead thing would warrant so much of their attention.

  As they drew nigh the dark object, all became clear. The ravens flew up, disturbed in the midst of feeding, when Gaelen approached. Finan was agitated, snorting and pawing the sand, shaking his head.

  “Why does he act that way?” asked Nelwyn, who had rarely seen Finan agitated without cause. “Surely he has smelled death before.”

  “I’m certain he has,” replied Gaelen, who was now close enough to get a good look at the thing in the sand. “He’s upset because he already knows who the dead one is, and knows him as his enemy.”

  “What do you mean?” said Nelwyn as she rode closer. She looked down upon the small, ravaged object on the sand, and her eyes grew wide. She could not find her voice for a moment. When she did, she whispered a single word:

  “Cuidag…”

  Even in its half-eaten state, Sajid’s head was recognizable to those who knew and hated him. The burn mark on his neck was still there, and he was not long dead. Someone had buried him up to his neck in the sand while he was still alive, even as the Company had found him long ago, only this time they had treated him with even greater cruelty. A half-full water-skin lay just out of reach of his cracked, fevered lips.

  Gaelen shook her head slowly. “Well, Treacherous Guide...no tender-hearted Ranger to come to your aid this time, alas! I do believe Rogond would have dug the pit that buried you with his own hands this time. You have done much evil since we released you. My only regret is that someone else had the pleasure of placing you back where you belonged.”

  Nelwyn’s blood burned hot in her face. She had endured more humiliation than anyone at Sajid’s hands. “I share that regret,” she said, her hands clenched upon her bow. She looked over at Gaelen. “I had once thought to spare the suffering of any living soul, yet upon Sajid I would have wished a long and terrible ending. This is darkness in my heart that I don’t know how to remedy.”