Chapter Fifteen
Mynowelechw Chamushah Cwig
Rain & Thunder
Gesn io Bæiyrom
Farther south, as Hwedolyn slept, dawn came and went, and as the sun climbed to its height, the sky darkened with black clouds and a steady drizzle began. Hwedolyn awakened soon afterwards, for the rain was beginning to beat down upon him unrelentingly. He attempted to stand up, but he was unsteady on his feet. “I must attack the elf-mage,” he said weakly.
Gwendolyn replied, “You will not be doing any fighting for at least half a day, Hwedolyn, not until the effects of that herb wear off. You should just be able to fly, though, fortunately. But not too fast. Come, I know where there’s shelter nearby.” And she flew up and led him over the river, gliding more than flying, to a large hillock that stood in the midst of the forest.
On the brow of the hill, beneath the branches of several towering oak trees stood an ancient building. It was made of crumbling marble and had a colonnade in the middle, overgrown with vines and shrubbery, with pine trees scattered here and there. Gwendolyn flew beneath an archway into a large vaulted cloister with a domed ceiling. Through a crack in the ceiling, a wan beam of sunlight shone through from the grey skies above and suffused the hallway with a dim light. Many small trees and shrubs had sprung up through cracks in the paving stones.
Hwedolyn winced when he landed, for his thigh was still very painful, and he was quite unsteady on his feet.
Gwendolyn looked at him with concern, but he said, “I’m alright,” and steadied himself. He began to gingerly walk around, looking at the ruins.
Gwendolyn said, “This was the castle of Queen Ordmuth the Dwarf Queen who defied the dragons in the age of Eriod. They called this the Last Rebellion, for after that the dynasty of Eriod was victorious, and defeated the Kingdom of Men and Dwarves of the Western Lands, the Vastrarlin. Chalyom told me about those days – but mother and father call the sagas and the histories of our people a folly; things a gryphon does not need to know! Ah, they are ignorant gryphons, though I do love them, of course.”
At the end of the cloister was a throne-room, and the throne was like to the throne Hwedolyn had seen in the hall of King Haldar, and it was inscribed, but the runes were cracked and covered with vines, and even the ones he could read were written in an unknown tongue. Behind the throne there were marble statues of Kings and Queens, human and dwarf, embedded in the wall. The statue directly behind the throne was of Queen Ordmuth, for it had her name inscribed below it.
Gwendolyn continued, “For almost three hundred years the Vastrarlin fought against the dynasty of Eriod Dragon-Friend until finally they were overcome, and their kingdom was destroyed. These Kings and Queens helped gryphons, even against Eriod, who was a dalhalgohae like them. I thought you might like to see it, after your adventure in the cave with the dwarf.”
Hwedolyn said, “I had not known that men and dwarves fought against Eriod. I thought that the gryphons were alone. This is a good place, Gwendolyn, a place that reminds us that gryphons did not always live apart from the rest of the world. We will be safe here until the storm is over, and the effects of the medicine has worn off. Do you smell magic on the wind?”
Gwendolyn said, “No, I don’t. Do you think this storm is the work of your elf-mage?”
Hwedolyn said, “He could hardly be called my elf-mage. Yes, perhaps it is. But I do not smell any magic either. But mind you, when my cousin died, I smelled only a whiff of it, barely enough to really be sure that that’s what it was. Perhaps the elf-mage knows how to hide it; some do. But still I do not think he is anywhere nearby.”
And they sat on their haunches in the hall and looked out through broken pillars and arches toward the great river, and the shores beyond it, as the skies blackened with clouds, and thunder rolled across the forests and valleys below.
Flashes of lightning began in the clouds, above the place in the river, to the south, where Hwedolyn guessed the elf-mage and his small army might be.
Then, as Hwedolyn and Gwendolyn watched and waited for the storm to end, Hwedolyn began to have a strange feeling that someone was watching them. He moved further back into the shadows.
“What’s wrong?” asked Gwendolyn.
“I feel as though we’re being watched,” he said. “I felt the same thing before – before the wyverns caught me – and didn’t pay any attention. I’m not going to get caught out twice.”
“The wyvern is dead,” said Gwendolyn. “You don’t have to worry about him any more.”
Hwedolyn said, “Perhaps it’s not him. Perhaps it’s the elf-mage. Perhaps it’s someone or something else.”
“Ahem,” said a voice from behind them, “It could be me.”
They turned about quickly, segreant, with their talons upraised, to see a dwarf standing in the shadows, dressed in a dark, unmarked cloak and small black hat embroidered with peculiar decorations, of a manner Hwedolyn was unfamiliar with. He was standing in a dark corner of the hall, where there was a wide crack in the wall that led down into a fissure in the rocks.
“I am Klaer,” said the dwarf. “Fear not, gryphon, I am Glaïfym’chadul, a Gryphon-Friend.”
“Could that be King Klaer?” asked the gryphon, for Klaer’s face was just as ugly and misshapen as King Haldar’s, and Hwedolyn was certain they must be brothers.
The dwarf was very surprised. “Indeed I am. How do you know of me?”
Hwedolyn said, “I met your brother King Haldar son of Manthur in a cave in which I was hiding on the first night of the first new moon after the first full moon after the Midwinter Solstice. He invited me to the feast, and told me that when you arrived you might be able to tell me how to defeat an elf-mage. King Haldar was very worried when you did not arrive, and immediately set off to find you. What happened to you? And where is your retinue?” For the gryphon guessed that King Klaer would have a retinue, as the others did.
King Klaer stepped out of the shadows, and they could see that underneath his cloak he wore black armour, richly adorned with dark gold in the manner of the dwarves.
King Klaer said, “We were five days from Minthenmor. Normally we dwarves prefer to travel underground, but the caves come to an end east of Ïolidur, so we needed to walk up and across the land of the open sky for some leagues. We clambered out of the cave in the midst of the Merochaqlalae Forest, and a crescent moon shone in the sky, but it was soon obscured by the clouds. I don’t know if you have ever been to the Merochaqlalae Forest, but it is an ancient forest, full of the tallest oaks and elm trees in all the world, and the forest floor is thick with hawthorn bushes, blackberries, and bracken. I thought we would be safe crossing that forest, especially at night, and all went well for the first hour or so. But then one of my dwarves saw a glimpse of the dragon above us when we crossed a clearing – I think we were no more than five leagues from where we had entered the forest. After that we made a great effort to travel under the cover of the forest vegetation. Nonetheless I believe the dragon was watching us then, waiting for an opportunity, for my soldiers saw glimpses of it in the sky, often when the leaves above us parted for but a moment unexpectedly, or when the wind blew – but my dwarves are well-trained, and, gryphons, I tell you, they made not a sound – for we have an ancient system of handsigns that dwarves are taught when they are young, to use in situations like that.
“But forty minutes or thereabouts after the first of my dwarves had spotted the dragon, it attacked us. First it swooped, taking two dwarves in its talons and breathing fire at the rest of us. I had fifteen dwarves with me, and the dragon laid waste to them! After the first attack, only eight of us were left alive. My captain and several others, though alive still, had been badly burned. The dragon dropped the two dwarves from a great height and then turned about for another swoop – my dwarves had their bows and their spears ready this time – but the dragon came in at us upside down, with its armoured side facing the ground, and the spears and the arrows simply bounced off his hide. My captain
and two bodyguards took me off to the side, just before the dragon reached us, into a hollow in a tree, and we were shielded from the worst of its flame. But the rest of my dwarves died a terrible death! Then the fire began. The forest began to burn. All the while the dragon was above us, hovering in the sky, looking for us, seeking us, it was clear that the foul beast would not rest until it found us. I am sure it knew that three of us had escaped. We found a stream, one of the tributaries of the Leithdith river, and there was a beaver’s den there, and we took refuge at the edge of it. The forest fire burned for many hours, and the dragon was ever above us, seeking and searching, but we stayed in our hiding place and thankfully it did not discover us.
“In the morning, we felt more certain of ourselves, for ever do dragons hate the dawn and the coming of the day. But even as we left our hiding place a new danger came close to us – a Nomoi mixed battalion – there would have been at least two companies of infantry, a Mage, I know not if he was human or elf though I think he was a man, and five or six knights on horseback. They were scouring the forest for us and so we could not go north or return the way we had come, for not only had the forest fire burned much of the undergrowth that we had used for cover, but the Nomoi were combing the forest for us, without any doubt. They paid no heed to a hunter that was walking through the woods, and they were looking in all the holes and burrows where a dwarf could hide.
“My captain was slowing us down, for his injuries were very severe, but we insisted on taking him along with us. The Nomoi almost had us, but my captain broke away from us and ran out right in front of them! He drew them away from us, and we heard his death-cries – he gave his life for me – may his name live forever in our memories. We headed south, away from that forest as quickly as possible. But then a new problem confronted us. We entered the kingdom of Chashae Hillaela, for the only safe cave that we knew we could get to was south, in the land of the Zwaegwyr, the wolf-men.
“It took us over three weeks of walking south eighteen hours a day through the farmland of the kingdom of Chashae Hillaela, and another four days southwest, until we reached the northern edge of the Mthidthil forest. Two days later we reached the Beaetharmae River. We expected trouble when we reached the forest, but the Zwaegwyr didn’t arrive until we were but half a day from the cave.
“They stalked us at twilight. We saw dark shapes in the trees, flitting past, perhaps some twenty or thirty yards away from us, on every side. The cave was to the northwest, and there was a north wind, so we travelled west for a short while, then set the forest alight behind us. It had not rained for several weeks and the tall trees caught alight very quickly, and with the light of the raging flames behind us, the Zwaegwyr kept their distance for but a little while. We were nary a hundred yards from the cave when they attacked and surrounded us. There must have been more than twenty of the savage beasts! We fought like dwarves possessed, and swathed a path to the mouth of the cave, but in the battle one of my bodyguards was killed. He was wearing my cloak at the time, for he had caught a chill and I had given it to him to keep him warm. We had to leave his body up there, for the Zwaegwyr fought ferociously, and we ran into the cave, but they followed! The battle in the depths of the cavern was fierce, but the two of us had the advantage, for dwarves are creatures of the earth, and we were in our element. We killed many Zwaegwyr in that battle! We found the door to the dwarf-tunnels in a deeper part of the cave, and after going through, we shut it, leaving the remaining Zwaegwyr on the other side.
“My bodyguard had been bitten, though, and his wound was going septic, and he was delirious, so I carried him down a different tunnel, at the end of which is a small isolated mine run by one of my cousins, where his wounds could be tended to. After leaving him with my cousin I went on my way, wishing to reach a cave from which I could contact my brothers, the Kings of the other three underground realms, so that I could reassure them that I was still alive for I knew they would be worried about me.
“Alone I made my way through the tunnels, reaching these ruins just this morning. I decided to rest here a while, for I had some injuries as well, a few scrapes and scratches, and a twisted ankle that I had bound up, which was still somewhat swollen.”
Gwendolyn offered to treat his wounds, and he gratefully accepted. They were far worse than a few scrapes and scratches, and it was delicate and careful work, for she could have picked the dwarf up in one single talon, but she bound up his wounds skilfully and her balm immediately relieved the swelling. The dwarf fell into a deep healing sleep, and they decided that they could not leave him until they knew he was safe and sound, and Hwedolyn was also eager to find out what the dwarf knew about fighting an elf-mage.
The thunderstorm continued and a heavy rain began buffeting the roof of the ruins above the three of them. Small rivulets ran through well-worn channels, forming streams that poured out through the arches and down the side of the hillock, but where the gryphons crouched and the dwarf slept it was dry. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, but the dwarf slept on, and gradually the day darkened, and the storm continued. Finally the storm abated, and stars began to show through gaps between the clouds. The moon was already high, and it finally set some hours later, around the third hour of morning. The gryphons also slept through the night, and on into the afternoon of the next day.
When they awakened, the dwarf king was already up and a small campfire was burning in the crevasse. The smoke was being sucked into the crevasse.
“The smoke will come out of a hole on the other side of the hill,” explained King Klaer, “It is a fortuitous accident of the air currents. This fire will not alert the Nomoi to our presence here.” There was a large reindeer cooking above the fire and a pot in which herbs and roots were boiling. The gryphons wondered how the dwarf had managed to move such a large animal. He answered their unspoken thoughts, saying, “We dwarves are stronger than we look.”
The two gryphons ate the meal with gratitude and King Klaer had a goodly helping himself. After they had eaten Hwedolyn said, “King Klaer, your brother King Haldar told me you are very wise and knowledgeable. I wonder if you can tell me how to defeat an elf-mage?” Gwendolyn rolled her eyes, for by now she had had enough of the quest, but Hwedolyn ignored her, and continued, “I am on a quest to avenge my cousin Atdaholyn, who was killed by an elf-mage, and I wish to know how an elf-mage can be defeated.”
King Klaer replied, “My brother Haldar is always exaggerating his tales of my wisdom. Yes, I have read many books, but this does not necessarily make a dwarf wise. An elf-mage, you say. Such a one can never die, but his body is mortal, and can be destroyed, so that he must exist as a spirit, and it may take many generations for him to reform a body from the elements, even millenia. To achieve this you must turn his own magic against him,” said the Dwarf-King, “An elf-mage often considers whether his own power is equal to others like him, and this informs their choice of abilities, when they study, though most elf-wizards are too weak to do more than wyrd one or two elements! Often the power that they choose to study turns out to be their own vulnerability, for they wish to use as a weapon that which they fear. In truth elf-mages dislike having their bodies destroyed, even if they can eventually remake them, and they will avoid it happening more than once.”
Hwedolyn wanted to ask how a gryphon could use lightning and thunder against an elf-mage, for gryphons, insofar as he knew, have no magical ability of their own.
“Sometimes the simplest properties of nature can help,” said the dwarf, seeing the gryphon’s puzzlement. “For instance, take a Mage who wyrds sunlight – a mirror may well defeat him, for when he casts a spell, it takes the quality of sunlight, and the mirror reflects it back to him. Or another Mage may wyrd the properties of fire – in this case, his powers will be useless if he is drenched in water.”
Hwedolyn said, “The elf-mage I am speaking of wyrds living creatures, plants, animals. But he makes storms, lightning, such as we saw last night.”
King Klaer replied, “Indeed. I
thought I saw the stench of magic in the lightning flashes and the storm. The powers the elf-mage likes to use are often clues, for as I said an elf-mage will often choose something that he fears to use as a weapon. Lightning… I wonder… Perhaps use iron – for iron captures lightning, so that it must travel along whatever metal objects are in its path, and from thence to the ground! Turn his lightning back towards him, using iron or copper – this would be my advice to you.”
While the gryphon was thinking this over, King Klaer took a pot from his knapsack, and, filling it with some dried herbs from another pouch, put it on the fire, in which were still glowing red coals. The king found some dry branches and threw them onto the fireplace, then blew upon it, causing flames to blow up and lick the bottom of the pot. “Tea, my Gryphon-Friends. One of the great delicacies from the east.”
He let the gryphons taste the tea, but they did not like the taste, and told him that they preferred mead. But the dwarf said, “Oh, well,” and quite contentedly sat and drank a mug of tea, as he stared out across the forest, towards the horizon where the sun was gradually sinking, while Hwedolyn paced to and fro, thinking about everything the dwarf had said.
Hwedolyn suddenly stopped pacing, turned to the dwarf and said, “But if I carry a piece of steel, will that not attract the lightnings that the elf-mage sends? Will it not make it easier for him to fight me?”
“Aye,” said the dwarf, “And therein is the catch.”
Hwedolyn said, “Is there no other way?”
“Yes,” said King Klaer, “There is only one other way to defeat an elf-mage that I have ever heard of – it is to do with their talisman.”
And then Hwedolyn told the dwarf everything that had happened so far, including the attack on the tavern, more than nine months ago, and the death of his cousin in the storm.
“Hmmm,” said the dwarf, “So you know something of talismans already. His eye was the talisman – and few Mages put all their power in their talisman, for it makes them too vulnerable to the destruction of it. Nay, not to destroy it, as you did the eye of the elf-mage – Nay, that which I speak of is far more subtle – to hide it from the elf-mage. If you can hide a Mage’s talisman, the magic is still imprisoned in it, and he (or she, of course, for many Mages are women) cannot use magic without it – and neither can the Mage regenerate his magic from what remains in them. Hide it far, far away, and leave no clue of where it is.”
And Hwedolyn said, “That might be possible.”
King Klaer said, “Of course, there is the magic of Ellulianaen. This is the highest magic of all, but this deep magic has not been heard of for many generations in the world. This is the magic that reverses many ills, and which, it is said by some, can even reverse death itself! Nay, we cannot hope for that. Better to do this in your own power, for who can know what Ellulianaen intends? – it is better to steal the talisman.”
And Hwedolyn looked up to see that Gwendolyn was now the one pacing to and fro. She noticed him watching her, and said, “I’m not happy about it, Hwedolyn. It’s one thing to destroy a talisman in the heat of battle, as you did –” “Or the dog was the one that did it really,” he corrected her. She continued, “– in any case, it’s another thing to steal it from him without him knowing and then hide it far, far away. It doesn’t sound safe, and it doesn’t sound wise.”
“To avenge the death of a brother is a sacred duty, and to keep a vow is a noble task,” said the Dwarf-King. “It is neither safe nor wise. It is something a noble dwarf – or gryphon – must do. It is only noble when done without regard for safety or one’s own life. It is only heroic when embarked upon without regard for wisdom.”
Gwendolyn said, “Such may be the dwarf-lore. But it is not the gryphon-lore. Nay, his quest is a folly. I thought it was noble, but do the Atmedlalin writings also not say it is nobler to forgive? It is a foolish cause, a suicide mission, Hwedolyn. You are embarking on something that may well be against the will of Ellulianaen. I beg you not to throw your life away, Hwedolyn. Your life is worth more than that.”
Hwedolyn replied, “My life is worth no more than my cousin’s life; and the solemn vow I made to him, Gwendolyn, is very important to me. I must find a way to get to the camp of the elf-mage when he’s distracted or asleep. Do elves ever sleep?”
“Not often,” said the dwarf, grimly brushing soil from a stone on the floor, “Not often.”
Hwedolyn said, “King Klaer – do you have any idea how I might get his talisman away from him? The fact is – if I can fly away with it, then he cannot follow me, without his magic. How should I do that?”
“If he has a talisman, that is,” King Klaer said, “If he has then I do not know how you would do it. You would have to distract the elf-mage so that he does not notice that it is being stolen. You need the help of a thief who is able to hide in dark places and creep quietly, and steal it from him when he is not thinking of it. You need the help of a dwarf, gryphon.”
Hwedolyn said, “Would you help me, King Klaer?”
“Indeed I would, Hwedolyn. You and your fellow gryphon – Gwendolyn – have aided me on my journey, and I would gladly help you, though in doing so I might be walking directly into the very jaws of danger. But first, I must get a message to my brothers, so that they know that I am alive. And I must warn them, so that they are on their guard against the Nomoi, for the Nomoi attack against my fellow dwarves and I marks a definite change in the manner of their dealings with dwarfkind.”
Hwedolyn had some misgivings then, for the elf-mage was yet no further than a day’s journey from them. If he left now with the dwarf, the elf-mage might get away from him. But seeing his hesitation King Klaer said, “If you take me half a day’s journey from here, to somewhere I know there is a dwarf-cave, I can get the message to my brothers. We will waste no more than a day in all, if that.”
And they clasped talon-to-hand and the gryphon vowed to take King Klaer to the nearest cave wherein he might get a message to his brothers, and King Klaer vowed to help him in his quest as soon as he had finished giving the message to the dwarves. And through it all, Gwendolyn scowled.
Gwendolyn said, “It is a foolish thing you are doing, and I would not be surprised if you both die. I suppose I shall have to go with you to ensure that someone is there to pick up the pieces when the stew-pot falls apart,” she said, quoting a common gryphon proverb.
And so, presently, in the early hours of the following morning, when the moon had set and the world was in darkness, the dwarf climbed upon Hwedolyn’s back, and they went aloft. They chose to leave at that moment because it was the darkest time of night and the elf-mage was unlikely to see them if he chanced to glance at the sky. Gwendolyn followed.
Just as King Klaer had said, the flight took no more than half a day – in fact, because the wind was with them, it took them barely three hours and they arrived at the cave as dawn was breaking. The gryphon alighted upon the earth and the dwarf disembarked, sighed and said, “I concede, gryphon, that travelling upon the wing may certainly save time, when compared to travel in the tunnels of the dwarves. But I can certainly say that dwarves are not used to travel by air, and it is with great gratitude that my feet touch the ground again.”
Hwedolyn could see no cave entrance anywhere nearby. There was only a grove of tall willow trees, and a thicket of berries near a swamp. King Klaer said, “Below are the caverns of Zischá Findondae, where many dwarves have their dwellings. I shall tell my brother’s subjects my message, and they will take it to him. I will return within the hour.” And the dwarf slipped into a hole that the gryphon had not seen, hidden amongst the twisted roots of a willow tree, and was gone. Gwendolyn landed moments later.
A Feather on the Breath of Ellulianaen Page 42
