Elfhunter

by C S Marks

  "But…I do feel it," Gorgon muttered in reply, though he was not aware of doing so. His eyes were closed now, for he concentrated entirely upon the brilliant field of silver lights that wheeled above him. "Such beautiful lights…so bright…so cold. Like cold fire burning for eternity…."

  At that moment, Kharsh approached. He cleared his throat, trying to gain Gorgon’s attention without offending or startling him. Gorgon’s eyes jerked open, and he quickly concealed the mirror in its leather pouch. The beautiful stars vanished, as did the sound of Gaelen’s voice. Gorgon looked bewildered for a moment, then his own eyes focused on Kharsh and the familiar contempt returned to them.

  "What do you want? I thought I told you never to disturb me while I am spying on the Elves. You had best have good reason for doing so."

  He advanced on Kharsh, menacing him. To his credit Kharsh stood his ground, though he was justifiably afraid.

  "Please, my lord…I understand little of Elven-tongues. May I speak plainly? My folk are wanting to make time as the moon has set and it is a cool, dark night. We really do not enjoy traveling in sunlight, and the Elves will stop to rest by night, for they are mounted, and their horses require rest. Should we make ready to move on?"

  "Yes, good idea. But don’t let them think they will not have to travel by day. I mean to keep up with those accursed Elves, though they are mounted and we are not. Tell the rabble to make ready. We move on within the hour."

  Kharsh bowed and left Gorgon to gather his few possessions. When he had done so, Gorgon paused, recalling his vision of the stars and his reaction to it. When he looked heavenward now, he saw only an ordinary night sky—unremarkable, and certainly not worthy of the ecstasy it had engendered in him a few moments ago. When seen through the eyes of the Wood-elf, however… He was momentarily alarmed. What was happening to him? How was it that he had felt such longing when he looked through her eyes? He had better guard himself more carefully from now on, lest he become more and more alike to his mother’s kin. He could not bear the thought of it! Even more alarming—he shared her vision even when his own eyes were closed. He did not even need to look into the mirror anymore, but only to hold it in his hand. The connection between them was becoming stronger.

  What had the She-elf been saying at the end? "Cold…so cold, like death, like being forever alone…."

  He did not understand her meaning. Perhaps she referred to the coldness of the fiery lights, burning everlastingly in the heavens. Perhaps she referred to the coldness of her own heart—Gorgon did not know.

  The truth was that at that moment Gaelen had been overcome with the chill of Gorgon’s presence, as she nearly always did when he was looking through her eyes. She had wished to share the stars with someone, and she had unwittingly done so, but her heart had been nearly overwhelmed with loneliness. Had she felt this emanating from Gorgon, who was surely one of the most lonely souls yet living? Or was it in fact the coldness and loneliness of her own life, her life without Rain, without the love that had once so filled her heart? She could not know the answer, even as Gorgon could not.

  Gaelen stopped shivering as she clasped the largest tree-branch with both arms. It was warm and smooth, and she felt its vitality as she laid her cheek against it. Her tears came freely then, and she wept for several minutes. Her thoughts were released by those tears: fear of what the future would bring as well as the horror of what had already come to pass.

  She held a fleeting vision of the lifeless eyes of Farahin, heard his voice calling to her as his spirit faded, but she could not bear it and drew her long dagger from the sheath without thinking, slicing into the flesh of one of her slender arms and crying in pain. This effectively banished the visions from her mind, bringing her world back into focus, and as she gripped her arm, gritting her teeth, she heard Rogond’s voice calling her name. He sounded frightened...no doubt he had heard her cry and was now searching for her.

  She climbed down from her perch to find him running toward her in alarm. "Why did you wander off ? I have been worried for you. What happened to your arm?" He took it tenderly in his hands and examined it. "This will need healing. What happened?"

  "I cut myself with one of my daggers. It was unintentional, and the cut is not deep. I shall have to be more careful," she replied. Rogond knelt before her, trying to get her to look at him.

  "You’ve been crying," he observed. "What troubles you? Please, tell me. I want to help."

  She allowed him to hold her then, but she would not tell him why she had wept, for she could not find words to express what she had been feeling. She only knew that she felt more secure in his arms than she had since the quest began. Now she wished only to keep silent as he rocked her gently, stroking her hair as tears flowed again from her bright eyes, dampening Rogond’s tunic, wrenching his heart.

  There were other troubled hearts that night in the encampment. Galador kept mulling over the parting words of Lady Arialde, and he did not understand their meaning. Nelwyn, who lay beside him, was yet troubled by the visions she had held in the Stone, especially that of the object in Gorgon’s hand, a thing that somehow bound his fate to that of Gaelen.

  Her dearest friend and cousin had been overtaken by a deep melancholy, one that not even Fima could assuage. Was Gorgon somehow reaching into her mind, wearing her down? Nelwyn could not say. She wondered whether she should share this vision with Galador, or with Rogond. But she could not bring doubt upon Gaelen, and that vision would surely do so. Nelwyn resolved to wait until her course was made plain, until revealing the vision truly became necessary.

  Amandir was bent with silent weeping, as he had done often since Gorgon had surfaced. He was going out to hunt and slay the abomination whose creation had resulted in the death of his beloved Brinneal—a creature of which he had only recently been made aware. He could not imagine the abject horror Brinneal had suffered at the hands of the Shadowmancer. He remembered the day she went missing; he had rarely left her alone, as she was newly with child, and she had chided him for it.

  "I’m only going out to enjoy the air and the feel of the grass on my feet, and to gather lily-bulbs for the garden. You would think I was going into some terrible peril," she had said, laughing musically and tossing her golden hair at him.

  "I shall go and help you to gather them," he had replied, hoping that she would accept his company, though he knew she would think him foolish for worrying so.

  "Did you not say that you wished to carve a cradle for our son? As meticulous as you are, he will be here before you finish it, so get to work! I will be back before the sun rises to its full height. Now, don’t worry. And I am not going alone…Aureth is going with me."

  He had laughed then.

  "Oh, I see! You wish to go off with Aureth so that you may discuss matters of female importance. My company would not be sufficiently enlightening. Well, so be it, but I beg you, take care. You know that I worry so when you venture from the island."

  She had given him her promise of caution, then turned and left him forever. Her fate remained unknown for many years, though they found Aureth cruelly slain, apparently while trying to protect Brinneal. When the Elves finally learned of Brinneal’s terrible fate, Amandir was nearly destroyed by grief and horror at the thought of it. He hoped desperately that the vile experiment would go awry, that Gorgon would not survive, or that Wrothgar would not be pleased with him and would destroy him ‘ere he could mature. Now those hopes were dashed, and he, Amandir, was set upon a path that would destroy Gorgon, the last child of Brinneal.

  Amandir had not known it, but a part of him had gone into the creation of Gorgon as well. It would not have altered Amandir’s resolve, however, for though Gorgon may once have been innocent, he was now a hateful, murderous monster, beyond hope of redemption. For the sake of his beloved Brinneal, Amandir would see Gorgon destroyed, and his memory erased from reckoning. Amandir raised his eyes, which were red from weeping, and beheld the stars, reaching out even as Gaelen had done, but Brinneal, like
Farahin, could not answer.

  The Company lingered at the junction of the River Artan for days, camped on the banks of the Ambros. This was the rendezvous point where the Elves of Tal-sithian expected to be reunited with those who had been set to track and slay the Ulcas. Yet their comrades did not appear, and the Company wondered whether they had been ill-fated, or whether perhaps the Ulcas had turned from their course, deciding to go beneath the mountains. But if that were so, their trackers would still have made the rendezvous, as they had been instructed to break off pursuit should the Ulcas turn from the Company. Everyone grew restless, for they had not anticipated this delay.

  Rogond approached Oryan in the late afternoon of the fourth day, suggesting that the Company would move on slowly, allowing the Elves of Tal-sithian to catch up once they had been reunited with their friends.

  "I am troubled, Tuathan," said Oryan, and his face was grave. "It is not like the Elves of Tal-sithian to fail in such a task, for we are more than able to defeat a small host of ordinary Ulcas, even if we are outnumbered. Is it possible that the Ulcas were joined by more of their fellows, or even by something darker and more powerful than they? My brother was one of the Elves set to track them, and I do not sense his presence any more; in fact I have not for some time. This is an unhappy riddle!"

  Rogond placed a hand on Oryan’s shoulder, and the Elf stiffened beneath it, for he was clearly distressed.

  "The Company must move on," Rogond said, "though we would also like to know the solution to this riddle, for it no doubt concerns us all. But we must continue toward the Greatwood. Each delay provides opportunity for our enemy. Gaelen will leave on her own ‘ere long if we do not make ready. I’m sure you have taken notice of her restive nature."

  They had all taken notice, as Gaelen hadn’t exactly been subtle about her desire to keep moving. Oryan turned and looked at Rogond, then asked a difficult question of him.

  "I’m worried for you and your quest. Amandir has indicated that trust in Gaelen is ill-advised, that we should reveal nothing of our plans in front of her. This both confounds and distresses me, Tuathan. Can you shed any light on it? It is obvious that she is a trusted and worthy member of your Company, yet there is a Darkness that seems ever to stalk her and surround her. I mean no disrespect," he added, seeing the ominous look forming on Rogond’s face.

  "Perhaps not, Oryan, but nevertheless I am becoming very weary of Amandir’s continual undermining of Gaelen. He somehow thinks her to be in league with Gorgon, which tells me that his mind is addled. Either that, or he has been listening to one mysterious prophecy too many. I shall have words with him before long."

  Oryan shook his head. "You cannot know what Amandir has endured, or what drives him. You are young and have seen nothing like the long years of pain he has borne. I would pay attention to Amandir if I were you; he has looked into the Stone, which has set him now upon this path. He is not deluded. You, on the other hand, are blinded to any thoughts of evil things being associated with Gaelen, who is your beloved. Don’t think we have not taken notice."

  Rogond sighed. "I freely admit that I love her, Oryan. Will you now lecture me as to my folly? Do not trouble yourself; I have heard such advice from Greatwood to Mountain-home! Even my closest friend lectures me. It will make no difference in my resolve, nor dampen my desire, so save your breath."

  Oryan smiled. "Peace, Tuathan. The Lady is aware of your heart’s desire, and she has blessed it. Believe me, that is blessing enough for the Elves of Tal-sithian. I merely point out that we are aware of your bias concerning Gaelen. I would never presume to lecture you, for I sense that you are possessed of a ready mind and are more than capable of assessing your own folly."

  At this, Rogond smiled back at him. "That I am, Oryan. And should I fail to assess my folly adequately, I pray that there will always be one of your folk nearby to remind me of it." They chuckled amiably, the tension broken between them.

  "We will linger for one more day," said Oryan. "If you would leave, by all means do so, but look for us to catch you by noon five days from now. I will send our best scouts back to try and find what has happened. They will then make all haste to rejoin us. We may then learn the answer to the riddle. Yet I would counsel you to speak gently with Amandir. He may have some enlightenment to share that concerns your Company quite closely. Remember that his pain is very great, and treat him with compassion. He is not your enemy."

  The Company left the next morning, and the two scouts were sent back to look for the Elves. Amandir, of course, went with the Company, his face set in its usual grim expression as he sat astride his tall horse. Gaelen’s arm had nearly healed already, to the wonder of Rogond. There would be no scar from such a blade. Rogond shuddered as he considered the nature of the wound that had left the mark upon her shoulder. What sort of blade had left such a scar upon the flesh of Elves? He hoped never to know.

  Gaelen and Nelwyn rode together, and the closer they drew to the Greatwood, the lighter their spirits became. Rogond knew how they felt; it was difficult to be away from one’s home for so many months on such a difficult road.

  Suddenly the cousins both reined their horses in as though of one mind, halting and staring into the edge of the forest on the opposite side of the river. The rest of the Company followed suit, and some drew their weapons in the belief that Gaelen and Nelwyn had spotted enemies lurking among the trees. Rogond rode up beside them, with Fima balanced precariously in front of him.

  "What have you seen?" Rogond asked, scanning the forest in vain. Nelwyn pointed into the tree-tops, and after a few moments Rogond chuckled.

  "Ah! I see," he said, shaking his head. "Do not fear, my friends. We shall no doubt be stopping in this very spot for the night. Am I correct?" He looked over at Gaelen, who nodded and swung down from her mount. She and Nelwyn were already making plans as to how they were going to spend their evening, for they had a task before them. Galador rode up beside Rogond, confused until Rogond pointed out the bole of the tall oak that grew beside the water, with the small, dark hole about twenty feet from the ground. Galador smiled and set about gathering firewood. Fima could not make it out until he borrowed Thorndil’s glass; then he saw them, tiny dark shapes buzzing in and out of the hole. After the spring flowering, the combs would be so full of honey that the temptation to the Wood- elves was irresistible.

  The tree was inconveniently on the wrong side of the Ambros, but luckily the weather had been very dry, hence the river was quieter and the current less swift than usual. The span was not as broad as in some areas, still the Elves remembered that it grew even narrower about a quarter mile to the south of them, and Gaelen and Nelwyn headed for the spot as night fell, accompanied by a curious Rogond, Thorndil, and Fima. Galador and Amandir remained behind to watch the horses and tend the fire. The Elves drew nigh to the narrows of the river, and Rogond wondered as to the wisdom of crossing it, for wherever a river grows narrow, it grows deep and swift. He pointed this out to Gaelen, who shrugged.

  "It is our intention to cross without wetting ourselves in the water. Watch and learn!"

  She strung her bow and sent a slender rope across into the trees, where it lodged obligingly. Then she tied the opposite end around the stout limb of a tall tree. Slinging a leather pack across her back, she swung hand over hand across the narrow span. This was much easier than the crossing had been when she had attempted the rescue of Nelwyn so many months ago, for then she had lowered herself into the water, and the current had been both swift and cold. She smiled at the memory. She had not yet become acquainted with Rogond, but would soon meet him and tend to him in his illness. She blessed the day she came to him, for she could no longer imagine traveling without him. She threw a wry smile back over her shoulder just before she dropped lightly down upon the far bank with Nelwyn close behind her. Then the two of them made their way to the honey-tree.

  Fima was frustrated as he could not see what they were doing, especially now that darkness had fallen. He stood with Galador and
Rogond on the riverbank, eyes trained on the two Wood-elves, who were experts in the extraction of honey and certainly would not be denied now. The oak was not suitable for climbing, but its brother that stood next to it was perfect. Gaelen and Nelwyn scrambled up like squirrels, each carrying a smoldering green branch with them. Rogond knew the purpose of it; he had seen the Elves use this trick before. The darkness and the smoke would confuse and stupefy the bees, rendering them virtually defenseless.

  They could hear the Elves laughing then speaking to one another in serious tones as they drew near to their goal. Then, they heard Gaelen singing as she reached into the hive and reverently withdrew six large slabs of honeycomb while Nelwyn waved the green wood- smoke into the hole. It must have been a honey-gathering song, for it praised the bees for their industry, thanked them for their gift, and assured them that there would be plenty of time to rebuild the winter stores. Fima chuckled. Only an Elf would sing to a bunch of bees!

  Carefully, the two Elves withdrew from the hive then climbed back down and doused the green branches in the river. They traveled back south to the crossing, where Gaelen returned first, carrying the honey-pack. Fima sighed.

  "A shame to lose a good rope, though I suppose you think it was worth it," he said to Gaelen.

  "Lose the rope, not to mention a perfectly serviceable arrow? What an absurd thought! Now you shall see why we tied it so high and over such a narrows. No one does this as well as Nelwyn—watch her!" Nelwyn appeared in the tall tree on the other side, Gaelen’s arrow in her hand. She crept out to the end of the largest branch that overhung the water, coiling the rope as she went. Then she gripped it with both hands, secured the coiled end to her belt, and swung gracefully across to join them while rapidly climbing the rope. Gaelen cheered as Nelwyn just missed wetting her feet in the churning water, landing unceremoniously on the bank between Rogond and a very suitably impressed Fima.