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

by C S Marks

  The people of the Citadel had done a fine job preparing the welcoming feast. Few in the Company had witnessed such pageantry, and they were nearly overcome with the splendor of Dûn Arian at the height of her flowering. Dûn Bennas was a larger city, but it had been in the grip of winter, and the people still remembered the Plague. They had seen shadows of war and hardship that had yet to dim the Citadel.

  The celebration was made even more special by the presence of the Elves. Estle had noticed that when she walked the streets with Gaelen and Nelwyn, the people would not approach, but kept a distance with their eyes lowered in respect. Elves, it seemed, were among the most highly regarded of beings here, and the fact that none had ever set foot inside the City only increased the mystery and esteem surrounding them.

  That esteem had its roots deep in the early origins of the human race. Men had always sought enlightenment from the Elves, learning of music and art, of languages and lore. The Elàni were the wellspring from which the love of learning could be satisfied. Hence, in a city founded upon devotion to learning, Elves were revered by many.

  Rogond and Hallagond were likewise treated with the greatest respect, for they were of the people of Tuathas, distant kin of the Citadel’s founders. Word had somehow spread that they were of Alduinar’s line, which was untrue, but so long as the rumor persisted they were regarded as visiting royalty.

  The celebration lasted until sunrise. Clouds moved in at midnight, obscuring the stars, but not even the Elves minded. The feel of the rain and the scent of the forest more than made up for it. The food was some of the best they had ever tasted, and the wine and ale were quite acceptable. The Company sampled many delicacies from the sea, to their delight. There was honey as well, but neither Gaelen nor Nelwyn would touch it. They wanted to keep their wits about them.

  Salastor had insisted that all in the Company should be outfitted in the finest raiment, and they were resplendent as they sat beside him. The entertainment continued all night long, and included dancing, singing, and story-telling. Visitors to the Silver City were very rare, let alone such distinguished ones, and the citizens put forth the warmest of welcomes.

  Rogond knew that he could not allow these happy, peaceful people to be set upon and destroyed, yet he wondered whether such untried metal could withstand the heat of the forge. These gentle-natured folk had not been tempered by hardship. Rogond hoped they could be made to understand what lay before them.

  At midnight, Salastor rose and bade the people listen as he introduced the newcomers and made them officially welcome. He declared that they were to be afforded every privilege while in the City, for they had journeyed long and across great, hard lands to warn the people of their enemy. “My people, as of this day, the City is at war for the first time. Preparations must begin at once, and the support of everyone will be needed. Our efforts will make the difference—will we lose our City, or will we defend it? It will be for us to choose.” The people took the news fairly well, despite the fact that many among them had not cared for what they had heard. Some of those who cared the least for it were people of influence, and they were already wondering how they could discredit the Company’s warning.

  There was very little astir until noon of the following day, for the night’s feasting had kept many folk in their beds until the sun rose high above them. Gaelen and Nelwyn had gone to the immaculate stable-yards to see to their animals, who needed to be fed in a timely way even if one had been out feasting all night. When Finan saw Gaelen he called to her, shook himself, and then stretched his forelegs out before him, arching his back like a cat. Gaelen’s care had transformed him into a glowing red, glossy creature with a long, ebony mane, well-muscled and sinewy, bright-eyed and proud of bearing.

  Horses were of great value in the Citadel, and new blood was always welcomed, for it was rarely encountered. Most of the animals now present were in some way descended from those few that had found their way in from more northern lands. Like Finan, Gryffa, and Siva, they were fine of limb, small in stature, and hardy of wind and heart. There were only about three hundred horses in a City where the people outnumbered them tenfold. As a result, relatively few could ride. The animals were used in farming and in the transport of goods, but some had been trained as cavalry mounts, and these were stabled in Salastor’s yards. They were ridden mostly to ward off the occasional civil unrest. Although peaceful protests of city affairs were common, such disagreements sometimes became unruly, and the mounted guard was invaluable in quelling any disturbance.

  Now there were four fine new stallions present in the compound, and the Master of Horse was very pleased. How fortunate that they had arrived at just the right time of year, for the days were growing longer and the open mares would soon be coming into breeding condition. The Master was already planning to keep the new stallions quite busy.

  Gaelen and Nelwyn decided to go for an early ride on the sandy shores of the harbor, cantering easily along in the shallows. Finan was frightened by the foaming water at first, for he had never seen such things, but he trusted Gaelen. Gryffa, who came from Mountain-home, was accustomed to wild waters. The chilly salt water would take heat and swelling from Finan’s forelegs, which had both seen grievous injury on a time. They still swelled and grew stiff unless cared for. This would be so until the end of his days.

  It was obvious that the sea provided much of the livelihood of the City; fishing vessels and nets clustered around each of the four long piers extending into the harbor. Nelwyn had noticed vegetable gardens and some crop fields, but these were relatively few. The fields had once been mighty forests, and the soil was thin, although the abundant rains and moderate temperatures made for excellent hay. The livestock were fed dried seaweed as well, and they maintained on very little. Dried seaweed is an acquired taste that Eros, in particular, learned to relish after a few days. The forest also provided some good fodder, especially for the dromadin, who could eat plants much too tough for the horses to manage.

  The Elves returned to the yards, cooled and curried their mounts, and then moved to each of the other horses, giving them bits of dried cake saved from the last night’s feasting. Finan stood with his head in the air. Do you see this fairest of beings, who brings good things to eat and shares them willingly? She is mine, and the rest of you can only dream of such things. Enjoy her generosity while you may.

  For the next several days, the Council was engaged in making their plan to improve the store of weapons and to train the people in their use. They would also begin to fortify the path in through the hills, laying traps and pits to impede the enemy army. Gaelen and Nelwyn would oversee the making of arrows and the training of archers. Galador was set to the task of planning fortifications; Rogond and Hallagond would assist in the refitting of steel blades.

  There was a very dark-skinned man named Seti, who had been an ivory-trader upon a time. His lands were far to the south and east of the Citadel. He had wandered here when a storm waylaid him from his normal trade-route.

  Hallagond, who knew something of these folk, was drawn to him at once. He learned that it was nearly impossible to cross the Great Salt to the south of where the Company had traversed it, and thus the ivory traders skirted far to the east. To Seti’s surprise, Hallagond spoke a few words of the far-southern speech—Rogond was not the only son of Diomar with a flair for languages.

  Seti flashed impossibly white teeth at him. “I was blown here like a bird at the mercy of winds, and I have made this my home ever since. It’s wonderful to hear some of my own tongue again. I hope you will find me useful, for I am skilled in digging and provisioning deadly pits, which we use in my lands for trapping and killing large, fierce beasts. Now they will trap mounted soldiers, impaling them on sharp stakes within. We can dig them as deep as we wish, but the bigger they are, the harder they will be to hide.”

  “Let’s also take some lessons from the Fire-mountains,” said Galador. “There are stores of oil and pitch that may be set aflame to confound our enemies.
The smoke will spoil their aim at our archers atop the walls, who will be far above the fray.”

  “Just be certain the wind is right,” warned Ali, “or you will spoil our aim as well. Our own cavalry should not worry about being struck by friendly arrows. The fire-lines must be well away from the gates.”

  Galador nodded. “So they will be.”

  The plan was to make the relatively narrow way in through the Brown Hills as treacherous as possible, so that the Scourge would be forced to choose the only path not blocked by fires or pit-traps. Channeling the enemy forces through such a narrow way would allow the archers to concentrate their efforts to greater effectiveness. Galador and Ali surveyed the area with Seti, and they laid out the design of the barricades.

  When Galador returned that evening, Gaelen and Nelwyn were waiting for him. “What plans did you work out today?” asked Nelwyn. She had spent her day aiding the Citadel’s archers, among whom she had already achieved exalted status. Galador explained the intricacies of the plan, sprinkling salt upon the table and tracing the barriers on it. Gaelen was strongly reminded of the fire-pits in the Barrens, when the Elves of the Greatwood strove against the small but formidable army of Gorgon Elfhunter.

  “These traps and barriers are all to the good,” she said, “yet it is the gates themselves that trouble me. There was a scent, nay, a stench that hung over the Scourge’s encampment. I did not recognize it, but it was dank and fetid, and for some reason I know it is significant. I have long held the feeling that something approaches other than just a savage army; something against which we may not prevail, for we are not anticipating it. I don’t know how I will make this plain to Ali, but I believe we must build an inner wall of great strength behind the City Gates. This wall must be of stone, and it must withstand great force.” She traced the Great Gates on Galador’s salt-map, and drew a curved wall behind them.

  Galador shook his head. “Ali is having a difficult enough time convincing his people to put forth even the present effort. He will not take kindly to putting this plan before them, for these people believe their walls and gates cannot be breached. Even if they all agree, is there time and resource enough to do this?”

  “I don’t know, but someone will need to convince them,” said Gaelen. “If the Scourge is aware of Dûn Arian, they know it is defensible. Why besiege it, if they cannot win?”

  “If it distresses you, then speak with Salastor and Ali about it,” said Galador. “But I expect the people here will not take it seriously, for many are already skeptical. It is proving difficult to unite them in a common purpose.”

  “They think too long, and act not enough,” said Gaelen. “Exactly the trouble with too much reading and studying; they have grown soft and complacent as lambs with no enemies to threaten them.” She wrinkled her nose in an expression of disgust.

  Gaelen had lived every day of her life with her senses turned to a potential encounter with trouble, and she did not understand. “I will regret dying in defense of a City of a thousand sheep,” she said bitterly. “I can’t wait to stand before my beloved in the Eternal Realm. I’ll just explain that the quest to slay Gorgon Elfhunter was prevented by the Scourge, because the Citadel folk were too blind to lay proper defenses and too deaf to listen to those with insights they do not possess!”

  “Try to hold on to that passion when you speak with Salastor, won’t you?” said Galador, chuckling and shaking his head. He had no idea of the reaction this would kindle in her.

  “You think this is amusing? That doesn’t surprise me. Go on and plan your little traps and fires, and wait for the real threat to arrive. If even my own friends will not listen to me, then…then I shall go out into the forest and await my death in pleasant lands, away from fools!” She stormed out of the chamber, grabbing her bow and quiver as she did so, ignoring Nelwyn’s calls at her back.

  Galador stared after her, puzzled. It was not like her to lose her temper and her good humor so easily. “What’s the matter with her?” he said to no one in particular.

  He received his answer from Nelwyn, who was now quite dismayed. “She’s angry because she truly believes the City will fall if the people do not heed her warning, and you have just told her that she’s wasting her effort. You should know better than to make fun of her when she has mentioned both Ri-Elathan and Gorgon in the same breath! She was of very serious mind to have done so. You’ve wounded her confidence, and I’m surprised you would treat her with such lack of consideration. You will sit beneath the stars alone this night, unless you can convince Ali or Hallagond to join you!” She turned from him, ignoring his attempt to explain himself, and went to find Gaelen.

  As she was leaving, she brushed past Rogond, who chose that particular moment to arrive. He did not say anything, but there was an unspoken question in his eyes as he looked at Galador, who simply shook his head, turned, and went out toward the veranda, where he fully expected to remain in solitude until sunrise. At the last, he turned back toward Rogond, who was staring after him with an expression of puzzlement, and spread his hands. “Truly, am I not generally reasonable and even-tempered? Is the moon in a phase that brings female wrath upon my head? If so, may it pass quickly.”

  Rogond nodded in understanding. “Have you seen Gaelen?” he asked, innocently enough.

  “She is suffering from the effects of the same moon, and has gone into the forest. I would leave her there if I were you. She made it quite clear that she wished to be alone with her thoughts.” Rogond raised both eyebrows, nodding slowly and deliberately. Sometimes, solitude was best.

  Gaelen decided to ignore Galador’s admonition, and very early the following morning she went to Salastor, requesting leave to speak with him, as well as Ali, on a matter of importance. She was admitted at once. Salastor was just beginning his breakfast, and he invited her to join him while they awaited the arrival of Ali. Gaelen liked Salastor; he reminded her of Hearndin, the King of Dûn Bennas. Both men seemed to be wise, worthy of great respect, and of a kind nature.

  “Please, take bread with me, Gaelen,” he said, as a fully laden breakfast-plate was set before her. She had not eaten since noon of the previous day, and this was reflected in her eyes, but she pushed the plate away.

  “Forgive my discourtesy,” she said, “but the counsel I would give is of great importance, and based on your response I may be better served if I am not lulled by food and drink.” She looked away, trying to firm her resolve, for she really did not know what she would do if Salastor and Ali discounted her.

  “Personally, I am more persuasive when I have eaten well, and my strength is not lessened by hunger,” said Salastor, taking a great bite of food to illustrate his point. Gaelen did not appear to be moved by it.

  “I have less need of food than you,” she said. “My strength level is quite sufficient at the moment, yet I thank you for your concern.” As she said this, her eyes betrayed her again, moving over the plate of food with longing.

  “Then please eat with me because I dislike eating alone,” said Salastor, smiling warmly at her. “Your resolve will be just as firm, I’m thinking. Try the fish—it is especially excellent this morning.” He interrupted his own repast, looking hard at her. “Surely you would not deny me the simple pleasure of your company; not when you have counsel to give. I will seriously consider any warning you would bring, Gaelen. Be assured of it. Now will you join me?”

  That was enough for her, and she politely consumed four delightfully flaky pieces of fresh, white fish—the best she had ever tasted. She finished with a piece of fine, dark bread soaked with butter and cream, and was quite content until Ali arrived, looking a little disheveled. It was still very early in the morning.

  “What is the nature of this meeting? I was told there was some dire counsel that could not wait. What has befallen?” he asked, his dark eyes worried.

  “Gaelen has asked to see us both,” said Salastor. “Sit down and compose yourself for a moment. Have something to eat.” A plate was set before Ali,
but, as with Gaelen, he did not partake of it at first.

  “Thank you, but I would rather come to know the nature of Gaelen’s revelation,” he said, looking earnestly at her. His trust in her had been plain from the beginning.

  Gaelen gathered her wits, mustered her resolve, and told Salastor and Ali of her fears. She told them of the need for the second wall behind the gates, despite not knowing exactly why it was needed, though a new thought had occurred to her. Could it be that I know what this stench means because…because Gorgon knows it? She kept this unpleasant speculation to herself.

  She despaired at the stunned looks on their faces, for even as she heard her own words, she thought they sounded foolish and ill-advised. Surely now they would dismiss her. Tonight they would talk of her foolishness with all-knowing smiles, and the City would be lost.

  “How certain are you of this?” asked Ali. There was no disdain in his voice, only concern. “If you are certain, then I believe we must convince the people to act. They won’t be too pleased about it.”

  Gaelen drew a deep breath and looked Ali directly in the eye. “I am reasonably certain,” she said. “In my experience one cannot be absolutely certain of anything. Yet consider this: if I’m wrong and you build the wall, then you may have wasted time and effort, but if I’m right, and you do not build the wall, there will be no defense. Which is the greater evil?”

  “This thing you ask is not small,” said Salastor. “It will take a great deal of time, and will place a hardship upon my people. You need to understand this.”

  “I’m no builder, and I probably do not fully appreciate the extent of the task,” said Gaelen. “But I would ask again…which is the greater evil?”

  “It is said that Elves are very insightful, and some have the gift of seeing into the future,” said Ali. “Does this number among your gifts, Gaelen Taldin?”

  “Not usually. But I have been known to possess insight,” she replied. “And that strange stench means something. Of that I am absolutely certain.” Gorgon knows what it means…and it means we need a wall of stone.