The Exile of Elindel

by Carol Browne

  “I’m sorry.” He slung the sack over his shoulder and turned to walk away.

  “A moment, if you please.”

  He turned. She hadn’t moved. She was leaning against the wagon with an arch look on her face. “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “Well, two things. Firstly, where are you going?” she asked. “We haven’t decided which way to go yet, and I think our friend is the one to choose. His instinct is better than ours.”

  Godwin nodded. “Of course.”

  “Secondly, are you blind?” Her eyes sparkled at him mischievously.

  Godwin gave her a questioning look. In answer, she reached into the wagon and snatched aside a piece of cloth. When she lifted her arm again, it was with a gesture of triumph.

  “My sword! Elgiva, they took my sword!” He dropped the sack, ran to her side, and grabbed the weapon. He gazed at it in disbelief, as though it were an old friend he hadn’t seen in years. “This is good fortune indeed!” he cried. The weight of the blade reassured him and somehow, he felt whole again.

  “Now we really are ready for the road that lies ahead,” she declared with a smile. “Greyflanks, lead the way.”

  ***

  Dusk was falling as the three companions stopped for the night in a sheltered clearing. Following Greyflanks’s instincts, they had walked many leagues in a northeasterly direction, though they had no way of knowing where they were or exactly how far they had travelled.

  The land was thickly wooded, and the absence of tracks made the going hard, but at least there was plenty of wood for their fire, and Godwin found a stream of clear water with which he replenished their water-skins.

  Elgiva and Greyflanks flopped down on the grass, while Godwin set about making a fire, striking sparks from a stone with his knife and using dry moss for tinder; it was a laborious business, and soon, his forehead was slick with the effort.

  Elgiva tried to comfort the wolf. “When morning comes, I’ll stop a bird and we’ll ask if it’s seen any wolves. Do you feel we’re going in the right direction? Well, tomorrow will be better. We’ll be rested then.” She caressed his large head, and the wolf leaned against her and licked her face. “We’ll soon get used to travelling, and then we’ll pick up more speed. But perhaps you’d rather go on alone?”

  “Wolves don’t care to travel alone,” said Greyflanks. “It’s not in our nature. Alone is bad.”

  Elgiva didn’t care to confront the truth of this. Godwin sat rubbing his hands by the fire, but he was looking at her, his eyes glazed with adoration. Elgiva drew a long breath and leaned closer to the wolf.

  “There,” she said, “is one who, as yet, knows nothing of his aloneness, for he’s seen an elf and dwells with enchantment. This is all a dream to him. I feared it would happen, and I did try to warn him, didn’t I? He should have remembered me as I was, but wilthkin won’t be told. And when the enchantment finally fades, reality will come as a shock. I wish I knew what to do for him, Greyflanks. I wish Lord Bellic were here.”

  She slumped back down on the grass with a sigh. In the sky above her, the shadow of night pursued the sun towards the western horizon.

  “Elgiva, I’m starving,” Godwin complained.

  “You’ll have to get used to it,” she said. “We have to be sparing with our food. We’re not in the mead hall now.”

  “Perhaps we could hunt?” he suggested.

  “Hunt with what? Your sword?”

  He shrugged and lowered his eyes.

  “Have a piece of bread, if you must,” she said. “Greyflanks might hunt tomorrow. Perhaps he’ll share the kill with you. At least the enchantment hasn’t robbed you of hunger, unlike your common sense.”

  “What enchantment?”

  “I tried to tell you before. Some elves have the power to enchant, merely by their appearance, and I seem to be such an elf. Don’t ask me to explain. I can’t. I believe it wears off, given time.” Godwin smiled, as though she were talking nonsense, and this provoked her anger. “No one explained such things to me. I don’t know how to end the enchantment, but I do know that you’ve left your family because of it . . . because of me. You’ve abandoned your home and your kin, and you just sit there, Godwin, as if it didn’t matter at all.”

  But Godwin continued to smile at her, and she felt her hands clench into fists. She wanted to shake him, though she doubted it would do any good. She crawled towards him and grabbed his sleeve.

  “I wish you’d see sense and go home. I don’t want this on my conscience. I won’t . . . ”

  Something large was heading towards them, slashing through the bushes. The wolf sprang up, his hackles raised and a snarl about his lips. Elgiva and Godwin jumped to their feet to confront the unknown threat.

  A huge figure burst from the trees and blundered into their midst. He wielded an axe that would have tested the strength of three average men. His massive shoulders were draped with furs, which added to his bulk, and from his chin hung a great blond beard. He was a Saxon and a giant, seven feet tall, at least.

  He planted himself before them, and the firelight glowed on his cheeks.

  “Intruders!” he roared, lifting the axe, and his brows drew together into a scowl.

  He took a few steps forwards . . . and Godwin, Elgiva, and Greyflanks took several steps back.

  While he looked them up and down, Elgiva and Godwin held hands, like two small children caught robbing an orchard, each comforting the other.

  Greyflanks moved slowly, as though he intended to circle the threat to his friends, but the giant flourished the mighty axe and made a bold sweep before him. Clamping his tail between his legs, the wolf slunk off behind his companions.

  For a long, tense moment, they all stood in silence.

  There must be some place in this world that didn’t belong to someone. Once again, Elgiva was trespassing, but this time, she didn’t have a disguise. Well, somebody had to do something, and it might as well be her. She peeled her hand from Godwin’s grip and stepped towards the giant. Then she halted and swallowed hard.

  He planted the axe before him, its edge a flash of gold in the firelight. From beneath his craggy brows, he watched Elgiva guardedly. She made a small bow and looked up, trying to smile and hoping it wasn’t just an awkward grimace. His stern expression didn’t waver.

  “My lord,” she ventured, her heart thumping in her breast. “I’m Elgiva. I’m an elf, as you can see. These are my friends. Godwin—a Briton—and Greyflanks, son of the wolf-queen Whitefoot. We’re sorry to trespass, and we meant no harm. We can move on, if you wish.”

  The giant studied each of them in turn but made no move to answer.

  “Perhaps we can make amends for our intrusion,” said Elgiva, “and invite you to join us in a humble meal?”

  Elgiva moved back to Godwin’s side, and they glanced worriedly at each other. Godwin looked alarmed. He was probably worried the giant would eat all of their food. Despite their situation, her lips curled into a smile. She cursed her perverse elven sense of humour, which found reason for mirth in so ridiculous an observation, but the giant responded to her grin.

  “Joskin, I’m called,” said the giant. “You one of Tandrin’s elves?”

  “Er . . . who is Tandrin, my lord?”

  “Ha,” said the giant. “I’m no lord!” The companions flinched, but the giant beamed as though Elgiva had done him an honour. “Tandrin, king of the elves. Round here, that is. Nice bunch they are. Not very chatty, though.” Despite his deep and resonant voice, he spoke in an awkward, jerky manner, as though he had little practice with speech.

  “I’m from Elindel,” Elgiva said.

  “What you doing here?”

  “I . . . er . . . lost my way.”

  The giant nodded knowingly. “Happens to the best of us. What you got to eat, then?”

  He tucked the axe under one arm and sat down cross-legged by the fire. Elgiva and Godwin looked at each other, and then they followed his example.

  “Is . . . is
there a settlement near?” Godwin asked.

  “East. Many leagues,” said the giant. “Wondering where I come from, are you? I live alone. Have to. Understandable, really. No fun being different. Even as a lad. Always so tall. Don’t know why. Parents a bit on the small side, see? Always seemed to frighten people. And there’s another thing. About being big. People think you’re special. They want to have a go at you, too. You get no peace. Lord had me marked down for his champion. Might have had to kill someone. So I ran away.”

  Godwin grimaced and held out their sack of provisions. The giant helped himself to some bread with a courteous nod of thanks.

  “Not a bad bit of bread,” he opined, laying down his axe. He must have noticed Godwin’s look of relief because he laughed. “Don’t worry, man. Use the axe to chop down trees. Or scare people off. Never to hurt. Can’t stand the sight of blood, you see. But who’s to know that, eh? Gave you lot a fright, at least! But if you’d all ganged up on me, don’t know what I’d have done.” He laughed again, an honest laugh that held no trace of malice. “How come you’re travelling with a wolf?”

  “He lost his family,” Elgiva explained. “We’re trying to help him find them.”

  “Very obliging, I’m sure. Poor thing must be fretting. Tell you what. Come back to my cave. Better shelter than here. A good night’s sleep set you up for travelling. I’ve got elf-wine, too.” He winked at Elgiva. “How’d that suit you?”

  Elgiva looked at Godwin, and he nodded his agreement. “You’re too kind, Joskin.”

  “Bless me,” exclaimed the giant. “You can never be that!”

  “We’d be honoured to stay at your home.”

  “Good. Don’t get many visitors. None, really. Food, back home. Meat and stuff. Elves leave me some things now and then. Very grateful I am, to be sure. Only wish they’d stop for a chat. But elves are wary. Never mind. I’ve got friends, why yes, bless me! There’s Shredwing and one or two of my furred and feathered friends who pop in now and then. Many a creature old Joskin has raised that fell from the nest or lost its kin. Animals never forget you know. Don’t care what you look like, either.”

  Raising a piece of bread to his lips, he took a nibble. Elgiva fought the urge to stare, but she couldn’t help herself. She had fully expected the food to vanish in one almighty gulp; instead, she found herself put in mind of a great bearded hare chewing grass.

  “Perhaps I am a lord, as you said,” chuckled Joskin. “Lord of the Beasts. Yes, I like that. Course, you can’t talk to them. Unless you’re an elf, that is. ’Cause they don’t follow, you see.”

  He brushed the crumbs from his golden beard and drew a small handkerchief from his tunic. He wiped his mouth with it, as though he had eaten a feast.

  “Think we’ll be off now, if that’s agreeable. Don’t like to leave the old place too long. Especially at night. Understandable, really. Never know who’s abroad, do you?” He rose to his feet and towered above them. “Nice evening for the time of year. Still a bit chilly, though. Take a brand from the fire, if you would, little elf. To light us on our way.”

  Elgiva did as she was instructed. Godwin kicked dirt onto the fire and picked up their sack of provisions. Greyflanks padded softly behind them as they followed the giant’s lead.

  ***

  The cave where the giant lived had been carved from a stony ridge of land and was hidden from view by the ancient trees and undergrowth around it. Before the entrance stood six tall rowans he had planted in an orderly line; they were trees that had power against hexes, he said. The cave was also Joskin’s doing. He had hewn it out of the shallow escarpment with his powerful hands.

  “Ruined all the tools I had. Just the axe left now,” he said, smiling at his own accomplishment.

  He guided his visitors inside and set about making a fire a few feet from the entrance. While he worked, he told them how the elves had spied on him, admired his perseverance, and left him gifts outside the cave while he slept. Sometimes they left food or wine, sometimes knives or pots or beakers. On several occasions, he had found injured birds, which he cared for until they recovered.

  Each time he released a bird back to the wild, the elves would leave him a special gift. It was usually something good to eat—fruit cake was a particular favourite.

  The cave was a cheery, comfortable home, despite the cold, unyielding rock. Two deep stone ledges ran parallel to each other down both sides of the cave, and at intervals, they were draped with furs. Rough niches in the walls accommodated flagons and bowls, and there were brackets for holding torches.

  Elgiva noticed a number of tapestries pegged to the walls of the cave and enthused about their detail and colour, unprepared for the giant’s response.

  “One of them was an elvish gift, but I did the others myself. Elves left me some stuff, you see, so thought I’d have a go. Suppose they’re okay. Makes it look cosy. Only one problem: the spiders. Spiders get behind ’em. Can’t stand spiders. Can you?” His massive frame shuddered, but then he laughed. “They probably can’t stand us! And spiders need a home, too, eh? Anyway, cobwebs, good dressings for wounds.” He raised his eyebrows.

  Elgiva was charmed by his eccentricity. “You have a lovely home. In fact, I’ve never seen better.”

  A glow of modest pride mantled the giant’s cheeks. “Though I say so as shouldn’t, it’s true. Make all my own clothes, too. Don’t like to kill for the skins, of course. Elves don’t like it, either, so I take things already dead, if I can. But now and then—” he shook his head sadly, “—have to set some traps. Understandable, really. Got to eat, you know.”

  By now the fire had taken hold. Joskin lit four torches and positioned them on the walls. A cheery glow spread into the cave, and near the back, the travellers saw more of Joskin’s handiwork: a smooth perch fastened to a stave of wood. And on this perch and blinking in the light was a bird—or something resembling a bird. Its wings hung down like tattered rags.

  “Aye, that’s Shredwing,” the giant said, following their gaze. “He was a fledgling. Wildcat got him. Saved his life, but couldn’t fix him. Did what I could, but as you see . . . Wings beyond repair.”

  “He’s some kind of hawk,” said Godwin. “My lord had one just like it.”

  Shredwing inspected the visitors, his black eyes gleaming like small polished pebbles.

  A sweet scent suddenly filled the cave, mingling with the wood smoke. Joskin grinned when his guests sniffed the air.

  “Burn herbs with the wood. Nice, eh? Please sit down. I’ll do you a meal. Just have to warm up that comfrey soup. I’ve a stew of winter vegetables. Bread, too, and some honey somewhere. And by the looks of you two, I need to find fresh bandages. You’ve been in the wars, I’d say. Well, a noggin or two of Tandrin’s wine soon put you to rights!”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The night was waning when Elgiva woke, wondering where she was. The dark ceiling of Joskin’s cave hung above her, and everything had a reddish glow, cast by the embers of the fire. She slid from under the fur coverlet, her skin tightening at the loss of its warmth, and searched for her leather sandals. Something had woken her, something that waited outside the cave. A runnel of dread ran down her spine.

  She had an inexplicable sense of impending danger, but it was too insistent to ignore. An unnamed instinct stopped her from alerting her companions. She must face this menace alone.

  She left the cave as quietly as she could. Her heart pounded in her throat as she peered between the rowan trees and searched the night. Whatever had awakened her, it beckoned. She held her breath and listened, but her ears detected nothing, save for a silence as dark and empty as an abandoned crypt.

  It would soon be daybreak, but the sun had yet to rise, and the dark beyond the cave swarmed with potential horrors. She stepped out from among the rowans, relying on her acute senses to make out her surroundings. An unnatural calm gripped the night and as her sandals whispered against the cold grass, they sounded abnormally loud. She feared they would betray h
er presence.

  After a while, she came to a stop and searched the trees. Thin strands of mist curled along the ground, cold and clammy, like an exhalation of sickness.

  She hugged her shoulders, knotted her fingers in the cascade of her hair, and shivered in her ragged robe. All around her, the silence seemed to be drawing into focus.

  “Who is it?” Her throat was too dry for her purpose. She swallowed and licked her lips. “Who’s there? I know you’re there. I can . . . I can feel you!”

  Feel you.

  A flash of silver sliced through the dark, and Elgiva gasped in fear. Her arms came up to shield her face as the beam struck a rock several yards ahead. It exploded with a whoosh and sent up thousands of splinters of light, which fell to the ground and sizzled in the mist.

  A shape now stood upon the rock, its form concealed in a black, hooded cloak.

  Elgiva clutched the amulet to her breast. Her hands were white with terror. “In the name of Faine, who are you? What sort of trick is this?”

  A soft, sly voice spoke back to her. “Why should you fear magic?”

  “What do you want?” she pleaded, her voice a croak of fear.

  “To see for myself.”

  “To see what?”

  The dark shape sniggered but made no answer. Instead, it swept its cloak aside, and a cloud of sparks flew out and covered the ground with beads of light.

  Elgiva stepped back unsteadily, resolved to flee.

  “Stay!” commanded the creature.

  It raised a skeletal hand, and the forefinger swung towards Elgiva and pinned her against the darkness, holding her like a rivet of bone. No elf, no wilthkin, ever owned such a hand. Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. This had to be a nightmare; she was still asleep in the cave. But no, it was all too real.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” she cried. “I have . . . I have an amulet!”

  The creature laughed derisively. “I am Death, and I have come for you.”

  It began to radiate a sickly green light, enveloping itself in a caul of brilliance that pulsated with force. The light grew in size until the trees behind it were bathed in its angry glare. It reached for Elgiva, like a foul stench creeping along a breeze, and she was helpless. The creature’s power throbbed in the darkness.