by C S Marks
“He can’t even hold up his own head, Gaelen,” said Rogond, somewhat surprised that she would even suggest taxing her dear friend so.
“He won’t need to if you steady him,” said Gaelen. “Even if Eros must walk slowly, he walks more swiftly than we can. It will tax your strength much less than bearing that litter.”
Rogond had been sharing the burden with Hallagond and Galador. It had been difficult bearing Fima through the deep sand, and the rocky ground was not much better. Rogond’s boots were nearly worn through. He nodded to Gaelen, and readied himself for the task. Nelwyn sat beside Fima, telling him that although he must now ride, Rogond would bear him gently and he need not fear.
Gaelen steadied Eros as Fima was lifted into Rogond’s strong arms. “You must walk carefully, Eros, and never argue with Rogond, for he will have his hands full. I know you will see your task done.” She stroked his light golden face, and worked a tangle out of his long, black forelock, somewhat distressed to see that it had been reddened by the desert sun. Eros dropped his head and nuzzled her as though this was nothing to make a fuss about.
It was not long before they drew within sight of the tall, brown hills. A good thing, for the last few days had taken much of their strength. They had nearly run out of food, and had enough water for perhaps three more days. The animals suffered from the lack of water; some would not long survive. The hills were nothing like the tall, forbidding crags of the north, but they were daunting enough for the Company.
“Will we need to cross them, or is there a pass through them?” asked Gaelen.
“There is a pass, but we must travel south to find it,” said Bint Raed. “The hills are formidable, and we do not have the strength to traverse them. I have brought us north of where I wanted to be.” She shook her head slowly, her skin wrinkled and dry from sun and lack of water.
“Never mind,” said Nelwyn. “At least you know where we are, and what we must now do. We are not lost, thanks to you.”
“Yes, and it’s a good job that you did bring us north, otherwise we might have experienced a much more unpleasant encounter with our enemies,” said Gaelen. “Yet it distresses me that they seem to be more directly on target than we are.”
“There is only one explanation for that,” said Estle. “Someone from the Citadel leads them.”
This notion shocked Bint Raed. “I would never imagine such a thing...our people are sworn to keep the secret of the Silver City from any that are not trustworthy. We would never betray it!”
“So all would like to believe, but there are forces in the world that may corrupt even the most steadfast, and the threat of death is a strong incentive for treachery,” said Galador. He knew much of such things, having seen the result of evil and corruption during the course of his long life. “What other explanation is likely? Even if your folk did not so intend, it is possible that one they thought trustworthy was not so. It is not all that difficult to be beguiled.”
Bint Raed turned from him, her dismay apparent, as Nelwyn tried to reassure her. “Never mind…it doesn’t matter how the Scourge is being guided. What matters is that we will reach Dûn Arian long before they do, and your people will be warned.” Nelwyn could see that this was not the only thing troubling her friend. Bint Raed was literally shaking with sorrow, though her eyes were dry. “What is it?” asked Nelwyn. “What has so distressed you?”
“I’m so…tired. Tired and weak and in pain,” said Bint Raed. “I knew the journey would be difficult, and I knew that at my age I would never make it alone, yet even with your aid I don’t know if I will live to see my home again. That is a sorrow I cannot bear. We are only a few leagues north of our goal, but those few leagues might well be the death of me.” She wept, though she was so dry that no tears came forth, as Nelwyn held her.
Gaelen approached them, and her eyes were sad. “Nelwyn, the time has come for last resorts. We will do what we must do.” She walked over to one of the dromadin, the weakest of the lot, a young male that Nelwyn had named Ortan. She stroked his thin, bony neck as he lowered his head to greet her, closing his large, soft eyes with pleasure. She whispered to him, telling him of how strong and brave he was, and how faithful. He would surely be rewarded in the Eternal Realm, where no burdens need be carried and there was neither thirst nor hunger. Then, in the blink of an eye, she cut his throat. He seemed not to feel it, looking around in a puzzled way when his legs suddenly grew weak and he collapsed on the sand. Gaelen took the water-rations he carried, distributing them among the other beasts, and moved to Bint Raed.
“Drink, most worthy woman of the Citadel. Drink your fill. Ortan needs no water now.”
Gaelen would do the same to two more of the dromadin ‘ere they reached the pass at last; the journey took five more days, and the beasts were on their last legs. Hallagond had suggested that perhaps some of the horses might be considered for sacrifice, as they drank more water considering their size, and were not as valuable as the dromadin. Gaelen would not hear of it. “We have more dromadin than we need to carry supplies, but the horses carry the Company,” was her terse reply.
The way into the pass was interesting, and Hallagond commented that it was as if someone had arranged the hills so that the pass would remain hidden to all but the most diligent. The brown, barren hills were staggered such that one needed to be directly in line with the pass to see it, and even then it was difficult, for the hills behind obscured it. When Bint Raed pointed it out, all were astonished, for it was a wide path, yet they would not have found it.
When they rode through it they saw before them a changed land. The ground was stony, but there were green things growing up from the rocks. “Trees, Nelwyn! Real trees…look, there!” cried Gaelen, pointing to scattered olive-trees and sage shrubs that grew in ever-increasing numbers.
Finan found a flowing spring amid the stones; it was only about a hand’s breadth, but it was deep and clear. “Bint Raed…is this water safe?” asked Gaelen, who was so thirsty that her throat ached at the sight of it.
“Yes, Gaelen, it’s safe,” whispered Bint Raed, “That is a seep from far beneath the earth. Man and beast may drink of it without fear.”
“Here, then, fill your dry throat with this,” said Gaelen, bringing her a skin with some of the spring water. Then she moved to her friend Fima, to offer him what he would take.
Finan drank his fill, lifted his head, and shook himself. Ahhh! Now that was good water. It was almost worth being so thirsty to enjoy it.
They rested by the seep for an hour, and all in the Company drank of it save the beasts; the seep was slow to fill, and so they were given the last of the water they carried. It would take quite a while to fill their casks. Eros was envious. So, why did they let you drink of it? he asked Finan, who was being rather smug about it.
Because I found it, is why! Finan replied with a toss of his head, licking his lips to make clear to Eros that it was very tasty water indeed. Eros turned his tail to Finan, and would not acknowledge him further.
The wind had turned again so that it blew from the west, and Gaelen was nearly beside herself, for she could smell trees, water, and all sorts of wonderful scents, overlaid by a salty tang quite unlike that of the salt desert.
“Ah, Gaelen...that is the sea,” said Galador. “I cannot detect it as yet, but so it must be.”
Gaelen was very excited; she could not wait to tell Fima, for she was reasonably certain that he had never seen the ocean. She tried to rouse him, speaking enthusiastically into his ear. “Fima…Fima my friend! I have tasted the scent of the sea! It’s not far now, soon we will gaze together upon its wonders. Surely it will rival any sight you will have seen before. Fima…?”
The dwarf did not move, nor did he appear to respond to her question, and Gaelen despaired. Then she heard him whisper through what was left of his formerly luxuriant silver moustache.
“Don’t be so sure…I have seen sights much more wonderful than any Elf could fathom…yet I would enjoy your delight and
amazement, for you are young, and have not my...experience…”
Gaelen smiled at his description of her as “young and inexperienced”. Fima had probably seen two hundred years at least, yet she was many times his age.
“My friends!” said Bint Raed, who had felt some of her strength return with rest, water, and hope. “Behold the great cliffs that guard my City from the sea!”
Beautiful, tall cliffs, banded with pink, azure, and grey, ran in a continuous line along the coast. As the Company drew nearer, Galador pointed to a gleam of bright white and silver, and they knew they had found their destination at last! As Rogond looked through Thorndil’s glass, he was reminded of a rendering depicting the city of Tallasiar, which was lost in the fall of Tuathas.
Gaelen and Nelwyn agreed that the City was a beautiful sight, but their thoughts were elsewhere. “There is a forest nearby, Gaelen! I have seen birds and other signs that tell me so; the nights are getting warmer, and the air is heavy with moisture,” said Nelwyn, who could hardly contain her excitement. “I will never need gain the Citadel, if only I may rest among tall trees again.
Gaelen smiled back at her, tapping the end of her nose with one finger. “I need no further sign than this,” she said. “I have caught the scent of forest, even over that of the sea. We shall soon walk in the green shade, my friend.”
They approached Bint Raed. “Is there anything to fear within the City?” asked Gaelen. “There are trees there, and Nelwyn and I greatly desire to see them. Our mounts have been watered, and they are eager. May we not ride ahead and see this great sight?”
“I wouldn’t advise it,” said Bint Raed, “for the forest lies on the other side of the cliffs. There’s nothing but rocks and scrub until you reach the Great Gates. Do you not wish to approach together, as a Company, after all these days of hardship?”
Gaelen took her meaning. “So, you believe we may have something to fear?”
“I honestly don’t know. It has been long since I set foot inside the walls, and I don’t know what might have changed. Our people have always been suspicious of travelers, as we see so few of them. It would do to be cautious.”
“I would agree,” said Rogond. “Look now to the walls, yonder.” He indicated the distant cliffs, where they could now see immense gates set into walls of stone, and the gates appeared to be opening.
“There are horsemen coming,” said Galador. “Perhaps twenty of them. We have been seen.”
Rogond raised Thorndil’s glass, handing it then to Hallagond and Estle.
“They are well armed,” said Galador as the horsemen drew nearer. “They ride well. We should keep our weapons ready.”
“Yet there is no hostility in their manner or in their faces,” said Gaelen. “We are a small and ragged group. Surely they hold no fear of us.” She turned to Bint Raed. “What is the usual method of dealing with strangers who approach the City?”
Bint Raed shook her head. “I cannot say, for I have never witnessed any,” she said. “Yet it is clear that some have been welcomed, for our people represent races that were not among the original founders. Our city was built upon and enriched by the hands of those who would once have been called strangers.”
“I would guess that they will deal with us according to our intent,” said Rogond.
Bint Raed agreed. “You must be certain that our intent is abundantly clear,” she said. “My people have little experience in warfare, for they have not faced a real enemy in untold years. The City has kept herself well protected. They may well be afraid of such well-armed, experienced warriors as yourselves, and you must not be seen as threatening. Leave your blades and your bows alone for the moment.”
“We will soon have an answer to Gaelen’s question,” said Estle, “for they are approaching with all speed. See the one bearing the banner? What is that device upon it?”
“It’s the emblem of the City of Salasin,” said Bint Raed, “a black raven bearing a silver lamp in its talons, upon a field of blue. A seven-rayed star shines over its head.”
“Why a raven?” asked Hallagond. “There is little nobility about them.”
“Ah, that is where you are wrong,” said Fima in a croaking whisper, lifting his head briefly from the crook of Rogond’s left arm. This proved to be too great an effort, and he sagged back down. “Ever have our people been allied with ravens, and relied upon them for news. Great birds they are, filled with wisdom. It’s no surprise that a lore-master would choose one as the emblem of his House.”
“You refer to the stinking black carrion-birds that fill the air with their horrid croaking and cawing?” asked Hallagond. “I was unaware that they could bring news of anything, except for the location of those dead and dying.” He shook his head in disgust.
Fima coughed and rattled and sputtered for a few moments before he could answer, opening his watery, red-rimmed blue eyes to scowl sardonically at Hallagond. “You obviously have mistaken ravens for crows,” he said. “Only ignorance can excuse you...ravens are nothing like them. If you are ever fortunate enough to encounter one, you will see the difference. Ravens are much larger, and some can speak the tongues of men. Yet they speak only to the wise, thus you may not be fortunate enough to hear it.”
Hallagond started to retort, but Rogond stayed him. “Save your breath, my brother. He is asleep again.”
“We have plenty of ravens in the north,” Hallagond muttered. “I know the difference.”
“Look to yourselves, all of you!” said Galador. “The riders are here.”
The Company was surrounded in a few moments.
“You will please dismount from your horses,” said a tall, brown-skinned man who rode beside the standard-bearer. He had brown hair and light brown eyes, and was clad in blue robes. He was obviously a person of some importance. Blue cloth was the most difficult to produce, as true blue dyes were rare.
Bint Raed rode forward. “I am a citizen, and as such should not be treated as a stranger. These are my friends, and are worthy allies. They pose no threat to us or to our people.”
“What is your name, citizen?” asked the tall man, who obviously did not recognize her. “Tell me your name, and those of your father and mother, that I may know you.”
“I am Bint Raed, daughter of Raenien and Hasta Nimblejack. I have been gone a long time, but I still remember you, Colin Al-jaseem.”
The man’s eyes widened. “You were thought lost, weaver-woman. The world has not been kind to you these many years.”
“The world has not been kind to any of us recently,” she replied. “Our journey has been very difficult. We have faced the mountains of dread, the storms of fire, and the plains of thirst to bring news of a terrible enemy that will soon threaten the City, and have nearly killed ourselves in doing so. One of our Company lies near death, yet you will now waste time asking us to dismount, when you should be guiding us to the High Council? The ways of our people have changed if you would now treat such a ragged band of travelers, who have drawn no weapon, as threatening.”
All heard Bint Raed’s words, but the horsemen were now staring in wonder at the Elves. “Of what race are these?” asked the tall man, indicating Gaelen, Nelwyn, and Galador.
“They are Elves, of course,” replied Bint Raed, as though this was a common occurrence and he certainly should have known it. “A dwarf travels with us also, and these two men are of the Tuathar, men of the kindred of Alduinar.” She indicated Estle. “This worthy woman of the Ravani is the child of one of our citizens, as well. Now, do you still insist upon inconveniencing our Company, or will you now conduct us to the City so that we may care for our friends and deliver our news?”
“Forgive me,” said the man, inclining his head toward her. “We cannot help but be suspicious of any who approach, until we understand their nature and intent. Of course, we will conduct you.” So saying, he turned to his men, speaking to them in a language that actually appeared to be a debased form of Elvish, yet there were many elements of other speech inte
rmingled with it. It was a tongue unique to the folk of Dûn Arian, and had arisen over five centuries of isolation. Fima would have a fine time delving into it, if he lived.
“Come with us, please,” said the standard-bearer, bowing courteously to the Company. He was not as tall as the other, and he was dark haired and grey eyed. Rogond returned the bow, asking that they be allowed to ride slowly on account of their friend, Fima. The standard-bearer assented, conducting the Company slowly and carefully to the Great Gates of the Silver City.
Chapter 20: THE LEGACY OF SALASIN
The massive wooden gates appeared to be set into the very cliffs on which the City stood. These cliffs extended in either direction as far as could be seen, and the City nestled atop them like a fabulous bird, the white walls and silver-tipped spires of the watchtowers glowing in the light of late afternoon. It was built on four levels above ground, and one below.
The Company did not have time to marvel at the beautiful stone courtyards or majestic fountains just yet. They would first be taken to a place where they could rest before being presented to the Council.
Fima was taken to the Citadel’s physicians, and his friends were assured that he would receive the best care that could be given. Bint Raed accompanied him, for she was very weary and in need of healing. The others were shown to comfortable chambers where they could attend to their own needs. Soon all were washed and refreshed, full of food and drink, and wearing fine, new clothing that had been provided for them.
Word had spread quickly among the citizens that strange and wonderful folk had come among them—Elves and men of the line of Alduinar. This was not entirely true, for Rogond and Hallagond were descended of the people of Alduinar, but not of Alduinar himself. Naturally, the people were curious. They could be seen gathering in the courtyards and corridors nearby, hoping to catch sight of the Company.
Estle sat with Nelwyn, waiting for Rogond, Hallagond, and Galador to accompany them to the Council. When they appeared at last, they did not resemble the same weary travelers of hard desert lands.