“These are our Ambassador Wains,” Oelinor said as he entered the first. “Built to fit the larger people of the world. For were you to sit in our normal carriages, you would come out even smaller in height than I!”
Yavün and Thalla joined Lëolin in the second carriage, while Ifferon, Herr’Don, and Délin joined Oelinor in the first. Despite it being larger than what the Aelora would have used among their own folk, they sat squashed together inside. They expected a long and uncomfortable journey.
“I do worry about Thalla,” Herr’Don whispered to Ifferon after a time. “All alone in that other carriage with the other Aelora.”
“She is not alone,” Ifferon said. “She is with—”
“Yes,” Herr’Don grumbled. “She is.”
* * *
“You have an Aelora name,” Lëolin told Yavün. They had boarded with more comfort, for neither Yavün nor Thalla were as big of build as the knight and prince in the other carriage, and Lëolin took up little space.
“I have?” the stableboy asked.
“Yes. I have mused about it long since I heard it. It is very unusual. Your parents must have been acquainted with our people.”
“I really don’t know,” Yavün replied. “I don’t remember them.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Lëolin said, the light within him growing fainter.
“What does my name mean?”
“Iavün means flame in our tongue, for iav is fire and ün is small. Thus, small-fire—a flame. Your family’s name, Arri, means lion.”
“A lion in sheep’s clothing,” Thalla said, smiling.
Yavün returned the smile, but something troubled him. He suddenly remembered the fire that he had seen and experienced at Tol-Timíl, and he recalled that the Beldarian of Melgalés hung around his neck, pressing into his skin—and he became very ill at ease.
* * *
The carriages set off swiftly, shaking as they crossed uneven ground. The steady gallop of the horses and the rolling of the iron wheels almost lured them into slumber, but Oelinor would not let them sleep until they had heard what awaited them at the Morbid Mountains at the north-west of Telarym.
“We will bring you to the foot of the Dead Hills,” Oelinor said, “but we shall go no further. From there you will trek south-east, until we reach the heartland of Telarym.”
“What about the Dead?” Ifferon asked, and suddenly he found that he was frightfully awake. “I have heard enough tales about the ghosts of Halés there.”
“Bah, the Dead shall not trouble us!” Herr’Don said, staring out the window at the blur of rocks and trees. “If e’er a bony hand should reach from the ground to grab at you, hack away at it or I shall hack for you! The Dead shall die a second death more terrible than the first at the hands of Herr’Don the Great!”
“Who needs an army when you have the will of a warrior?” Délin said, smiling. “But come, I do not think we need worry about the Dead, queer as that land may be.”
“No, the Dead will not bother you,” Oelinor said. He did not smile. Something troubled his thoughts, and this could be seen in the dimness of his eyes. “It is wolves you must be wary of. They plague the mountains from the Peak of the Wolf to the western edge.”
“Just wolves?” Herr’Don asked with incredulity. “You ask Herr’Don the Great to be wary of wolves? Surely these Aelora have not heard of me, nor the many great and wonderful things I’ve done—and what a crime that is indeed!”
“These are no ordinary wolves,” Oelinor explained. “They are the Felokar, the wolves of Halés, and are giants by comparison to their earthly brothers, if indeed we can say that they are related at all.
“You will pass Feloklin, the Land of the Dead, which borders the gate to Halés, but you must be careful, for over that land the shadow of Tol-Úmari also lies. That is where the Alar Molokrán sleeps, and while he will be deep in slumber when you pass by, it is still unwise to stray too close, for the Vigil of Tol-Úmari is always kept. Then you will cross the Chasm of Issarí over the River Soldím and into the Plains of Eridúl, the barren land that leads to Nahragor.”
Herr’Don clapped loudly and bashed his fist against the carriage wall. “Let us bang at the Gates of the Black Bastion and wake all and sundry to our battle cry!” he shouted, and both Délin and Oelinor seemed disturbed by his reckless enthusiasm. Ifferon wondered if even the sentries at Nahragor had heard his roar.
The day passed quietly with little more talk, for they were all weary. It seemed that Oelinor went to sleep, though it was more a form of meditation, for he placed his hands upon his knees and bowed his head; then the light within him dimmed a little, as if he were an oil lamp that had been turned down. Herr’Don rested against the frame of the wagon, snoring loudly, and Délin stayed awake for some time yet, humming softly some old songs of the ancient days of Arlin. Ifferon bordered on the edge of sleep, nodding his head and closing his eyes, and Délin’s humming helped to lull him further into a peaceful slumber.
* * *
Suddenly the cart halted, almost throwing Ifferon and Herr’Don into Délin and Oelinor. “We will go no further,” Oelinor told them. “Even if I willed it, our horses will not cross this river, for the rumour of the corruption of the Taarí has spread in their tongue as well as ours. Be careful, for there are many leagues yet to go, and I would that I could ensure safe passage for you to Nahragor, that most unsafe of places, but such a thought is a dream that too few dream any more. For there are no safe passages in Iraldas now, not here on the brink of Telarym, and not even beneath the comfort of the white blanket of Caelün.”
“Alas!” Délin cried. “Would that I had a battalion of my knights now, for while there may not be any safe passages left in this world, we could have made some safer. But Arlin rues my own departure on this errand, and I could not let her suffer alone while the Knights of Issarí go to the rescue of forsaken lands.”
“One knight with the strength of many will suffice,” Oelinor said. “But take heed! Ever is the blessing of Issarí needed now, for this is the land of brook and stream, and that is her domain. She may no longer dwell here, and to her profit, I believe, for lingering here would have destroyed her, but the reach of her mind is vast, and she may turn many tides ere the waters are spent. So pray long and hard to her ere you attempt to cross any body of water here, be it the vastness of a lake or some narrow channel that may seem safe. And be careful of the gorge! Not all that bears her name still lies under her dominion.
“Now go! Ever we tarry to listen to tired counsel, but my heart feels the better for the giving of it. Time is now a new enemy, and it is partly for this reason that I have stolen away from my duties in the north to see you swiftly to the south. Every wasted moment is a moment offered in sacrifice unto Agon, Aelor save us, for if the Call has come, and I do not doubt it, then we must do everything in our power to avert it.”
With that he opened the door of the carriage and stepped out. The others followed him, finding that Thalla and Yavün had already left their vessel and were waiting by the river with Lëolin.
“Glad you decided to make it,” Yavün said, grinning. “We’ve been waiting here for a good while now. Indeed, our carriage arrived a fair while before yours.”
“Boasting does not become you,” Herr’Don said. “Had you wished for a race, then the carriage of Herr’Don the Great would have arrived ere you crossed the starting line.”
“I must be off,” Oelinor said quickly. “It is a long road back, made all the longer by the trek through the blizzards to Oelinadal. Farewell, my friends, old and new, and take heed of my counsel. Fasimërr!”
He climbed quickly into the carriage, as if he were a bolt of lightning and the land were the sky. He went more swiftly than he had come, as if a sudden need of haste was upon him. Ifferon guessed that Oelinor had spent longer than he had intended away from the siege upon Oelinadal, and that he had suddenly realised the peril he had left his homeland in. The carriage door slammed shut. The great whi
te horses of the Aelora reared up and whinnied, and they charged off, back up the path they had come from.
“A need as great as your own drives him,” Lëolin explained. “We look oft to the evil in the south, yet I fear that the Aelora alone look to the evil that comes from the east o’er the Vast Sea, evil independent of the Beast, Aelor save us, and evil in league with him. Aelor’s Candle is what keeps the evil of the east out of the minds of Man and Ferian—but for how long?
“But let us speak of evil no more. I pray that we may meet again, and I pray ever the harder that should that wish come true, that we may meet in fairer times. Mallem Oelin mid baeüa. Fasimërr!”
And so he left them, taking his carriage and following the trail of Oelinor with haste. The sound of stampeding horses lasted for a moment, growing ever fainter with the passage of time, and then the company was left in silence, standing before the River Hamis. Lëolin might have wished that they not speak of evil again, but when standing before the cursed river under the shadow of the Morbid Mountains, all they could think of was what evil they had yet to face.
X – THE UMBRA OF THE MOUNTAINS
They looked upon the river. It was vast, stretching out on either side before them, reaching into the mists and vanishing over the horizon. It was long, a never-ending river some rumoured, but it was not wide, at least not at where the Aelora had left them north-west of Tol-Úmari. Nor was it deep at this point, being at most but three feet, but neither the width of the crossing nor the depth of its base were what worried the company.
“So we are come to the River Hamis,” Délin said at last, breaking the silence, and his voice was like a hammer-stroke against the wind. “It is known as Issar Chammas in Old Arlinaic—the River Barrier—and such it is, it seems, for the Aelora would not cross it.”
“But the Aelora knew not the full might and courage of Herr’Don the Great,” Herr’Don said. “For if they did, they would have known that I would but glance upon this wall of water and it would quail and quake before me, and so be a barrier to us no more!”
“Yes, yes, but be that as it may,” Délin said, “the crossing of it physically is not what worries me, for that I do not doubt we can manage. But the Chammas is a barrier of wills, like a sentinel protecting the land of Telarym. It is rumoured in Arlin that those who cross it lightly, with no concern for the spirits of the water, who some say require a sacrificial offering, may find that the river runs far, and may appear in one’s own land one day, stalking the reckless and revealing a might that is otherwise concealed.”
“Bah!” Herr’Don exclaimed. “Do you ask that we tremble before a river? First Oelinor warns us about wolves, and now we must baulk before a stream?” But suddenly the prince looked down; he gave a cry and jumped away, for a creeping water had risen from the river many feet away, and it had crawled its way up to his feet.
“Lo!” Délin said. “The river is listening to us.”
“It is evil!” Herr’Don cried. “Evil! It tried to kill me!”
“It tried to soak your feet,” Yavün said, laughing.
“Aye, and drown me!” Herr’Don said. “’Twas not the water that startled me, but that which I saw within it. For it showed me a vision of my death, and I was drowning in the sea, and I flailed and clambered for air, but none but the ghost of a friend would come.”
“’Tis best not to look into these waters,” Délin said. “There is an old verse that warns of the dangers of this river.”
The Issar Chammas spans the land
From western mount to eastern shore;
To those who come upon its strand,
They may see themselves no more.
A curse is laid upon the river
From days that are not counted now—
And what dire fate shall it deliver?
Death must come, but it tells how.
A ghost may live within the deep
And call poor men to final sleep,
And there may throng a phantom host
That marches from the misty coast.
We do not know what makes it run,
But those who pass may come undone.
The Issar Chammas breaks the strong
And stalks the weak who venture far,
And many hear its spectral song
In lands where no foul rivers are.
The river stretches far and wide
And crosses into shadow lands,
And those who use its course to guide
Will wander into deadly hands.
Those who cross without a prayer
May find the river deeper there,
And those who wander to its rim
May learn they cannot truly swim,
And those who dare defy its host
May never live to brag and boast.
The Issar Chammas blocks and bars,
And guards a land of twilight stone;
It is not of this world of ours,
And thus it runs its course alone.
The shrewd will cross with this in mind,
So never harking to its call,
But those with sense of a better kind
Are those who do not cross at all.
“A dark omen,” Ifferon said. “I like the verse, but not the warning.”
“And you will like less what is contained within the Chammas,” Délin said, “if e’er you dare to look into it. The Oracle of the Dead should not be used by the living, for it brings Death all the closer, and we have had enough of his presence in our company thus far.”
“Aye!” Herr’Don cried, still shaken. “Do not look into the river as you cross. You may trip and stumble, and may feel drawn to look towards your footfalls, but that is a trick of the river, for it wills us to look within it. Bend all your will to looking upon the far shore and pray that we all cross swiftly without mishap.”
And so they set across the river, but their passing was slow, for even as Délin set foot within it, it looked as though it were rising, and that the knight was sinking into it like quicksand. Ifferon feared that Délin would not need to look into the water to find out what his doom was, for his death might come then and there in the river itself.
“Are you sure you want to brave this?” Yavün said to Herr’Don. “I mean, after finding out you will die in water. Does fear not tell you it could be this river?”
“Fear might, if e’er I listened to him,” Herr’Don replied. “But it would be a sore sight and state for Herr’Don the Great to tremble at a river so small.” But even as he spoke the river rose again, and it seemed that it was not just rising but growing wider too. “We must all go to Halés at some time, and I’ll have all eternity to think about its Halls when I’m there—for now I will think of life!”
And so he stepped in after Délin, trudging along behind him and wading through the water which had risen to his waist, and just below the waist of Délin. The knight ahead still plodded on slowly, for it seemed that his feet were sticking to the riverbed, and he tore them from the ground with great strength and effort. He clambered out on the far shore and turned to wait for the others to help them out as they approached.
“My robes will be shrivelled,” Thalla said as she followed Herr’Don. “I pray that Telarym is truly as warm as people say, for we shall need the sun to dry us out erelong.”
Yavün followed, with the water up to his chest, for he was short and required the aid of Ifferon, much to his embarrassment and dissatisfaction. “Don’t drown,” Herr’Don called from the far side, laughing as he watched them struggle. Ifferon, however, was glad to aid the stableboy, for it meant that he was not thinking of avoiding looking down into the water below, which seemed to call to him, tugging on his mind and will. At one point he taught he saw that Yavün had looked for a moment into the mire below, and he was shaken, clutching to Ifferon with the strength of fear. Did you look into the river? he tried to ask, but the words would not come out, for dread had lodged in his throat.
At last they had all crossed and
it seemed that they stood in a different world, for the air was humid and the wind was warm. The land about them seemed at once saturated and parched, as if somehow one could drink the water and become drier than before. The sky was grey and forlorn, as if the mist of the river had risen into the heavens to blot the view of the stars. And before them in the distance loomed the Morbid Mountains, dark grey figures standing in regiment across the borders of the land.
“We have crossed the Issar Chammas into the land of Telarym,” Délin said, “but we have yet more land to cross ere we come unto the Morbid Mountains. They are many leagues off, and we would do well to keep a steady pace, lest time has allied with Agon.”
“You will need to hurry then,” a strange voice called from the dim wood nearby, a wood that they had barely seen in the girth of the mist. Ifferon saw a shadow pass between the trees, though it vanished as soon as he set his eyes upon it. The voice was that of a strong, husky female. “For Man lacks the legs that the wide expanse of Telarym demands,” she said.
Thalla stepped forward. “Show yourself.”
“Not at your command,” the woman said, coming out from the trees, “but I am Elithéa of Westhaven.” She was tall, with a golden tint to her skin and a slash across her face that seemed newly carved. She stared at them with small, slanted green eyes that looked as though she was always studying something, always watching like a hawk. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and some was spiked like blades of grass; at different angles it appeared like a deep auburn or a dark green. Upon her back there was a strange banner supported by many wooden poles. Upon her face was a wry smile that shook Ifferon. It was then that he saw the other figure behind her, still shrouded in shadow.
The Children of Telm - The Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 15