by Wayne Mee
"But you do desire 'something'," smiled the old mage. "And what's more, you believe that I can help you obtain it."
The tall archer pulled his chair closer. "I have been The Narthrond of this Silv ever since my father passed on and left me the title. At first I was honored, and sought to be a true 'Woodsmaster'. But as the long years wore on I began to grow restless. From the birds and beasts I have heard strange tales of far-off places. Of forests more vast and untouched than any I have ever dreamed of; of towering mountains and green valleys where creatures unlike any I have ever seen before dwell!" His voice had risen and a fire seemed to burn deep within him. "I have also heard tales of the race of Man as well. Both wondrous and terrible at the same time they say, full of raw power and vain glory --- and now that I have seen this to be true, I would leave Gareth Withrin and travel amoungst these 'newer races' before---."
His words failed him at that point, but Mithdar added what the Woodsmaster found himself unable to say. "Before the time of the Nim-Loth comes to an end?"
Flynnial's eyes opened wide. "Then what they say of you is true! You CAN read minds!"
"Hardly, lad," chuckled the old man. "But it takes no feat of magic to see that you desire to travel the wide world and drink in it's lessons to the full. My only question to you is, why have you waited so long?"
"I am The Narthrond," he said proudly. "And my duty is to serve the Silv."
Just then a horn blew and the doors to the Great Hall were swung open. Two of Gildar's Lake Warders hurried in, supporting a half staggering form between them. "War!", cried out a strained voice in the Delgian Tongue. "The Karns come. Hundreds of them! And bloody red war is upon us!
***
As the startled Nim-Loth moved about, Timin stood up on his chair to see. "Why, it's a Delgi! What's a Delgi doing here?"
Both Mithdar and Flynnial were already moving towards the gathering crowd. They had gotten half way there when a large silver gong was struck and Zorka Agwain called for silence. "Who dares to disturb the Nim-Loth in such a rude manner?!"
Agwain motioned for the guards to bring the stranger forward. The Delgi shrugged off the helping hands and, with the aid of his long pike-staff, moved toward the raised dais. The crested helm and face mask were spattered with mud and gore, and all saw that blood leaked from a number of gashes in his reddened scale mail. The Delgi stopped before Agwain's raised table and removed his helm. The brown queue swung free and Cynwulf's granite features took in the aging Zorka. A muscle under his left eye twitched and he fought to hold back the pain.
"To arms, Nim-Loth!", he grated in the Common Tongue, for he knew not the speech of the Children of Oma. "I am Cynwulf Nar Cigwulf, Rif-Dag of the Highland Delgii, and I come to remind you of your oath!"
Thorn turned to Mithdar. "What is he talking about?"
"Long ago Delgii and Nim-Loth swore an oath of mutual aid in times of grave peril," Mithdar replied. "It would appear that time has come. Now keep quiet and let me hear!"
When Agwain called out, demanding details, Cynwulf told of how a great hoard of Karns had come out of The Tarn to attack the Delgii of Hyree and that he had been sent south to seek their aid. He had left with a score of warriors, of which only he and two others remained.
A chair was brought and strong drink. The chair was ignored but the drink was not. When the sullen Rif-Dag had emptied his cup he stood, bracing himself on his bloodied pike-staff and demanded to know when the Nim-Loth would be ready. Agwain spoke with his son Arthdain and councilors. After a short time he turned back to the stern faced Delgi.
"A hundred strong of my Lake Warders will be ready with the dawn. My firstborn, Prince Arthdain, will follow as soon as the main host can be mustered. Let it be said that the Ithilian Silv forsake not either their friends or their oath." Then his voice softened and he stepped down from the dais and came to Cynwulf's side. "But you are sore hurt, good Delgi. Come, let my healers treat your wounds."
The Rif-Dag made light of the offer. "T'is nothing. But I prey thee, see to my warriors. I have but two left, yet they are still mine." Then a spasm of pain took him and he would have bucked if Erin had not caught him. The tall 'manling' had been drinking in a back room with Cal Gwailith and several of the younger Lake Warders and had come just in time to see Cynwulf stagger.
"Ho, 'Longshanks'!", Cynwulf said through gritted teeth. "I had thought myself well rid of thee back on The Edge! How is it thee are not Karn-meat by now?!"
"Too tough to swallow!", Erin grinned. "But faith, lad, you be leakin' red blood on the Zorka's fine carpets. Let's away with ye 'n plug up those holes!"
Despite his pain, Cynwulf eyed Erin's new battle-gear. "Fine armour, 'manling'. Who did thee rob?"
Erin leaned closer as he helped him walk. "A rich old man with a darlin' daughter."
"I hope she was worth it!" The pain in his leg made it all but buckle. "Will thee be striding away on those long shanks of yours, or are you up to a little more Karn hunting?"
"Be you havin' more o' that foul brew back home?"
Cynwulf attempted a grin. "All thee can drink, though your fine new shirt may be a bit red when we get there."
Erin tilted back his head and laughed deeply. "Why, it's flyin' you home I'll be, lad! Haven't ye heard? I be 'The quiffin' Raven'!"
The Rif-Dag cursed in his own stony tongue and the two of them tottered over to Mithdar's table. ***
Nex collapsed into the tall, fragrant grasses. Ragnol, staggering along a few paces ahead, hadn't the strength to look back. Instead he went to his knees, his gaze fixed on the vision before him. "Do you see them, Nex?", he croaked. "Just ahead, --- the Grimwall Mountains!"
Nex, his tongue swollen from lack of water, managed a grunt. Ragnol struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on the staff he had fashioned in Weirwood. His mind was as unsteady as his body. How many days had they wandered in that haunted hell? Three? Four? A week? It didn't matter now. Nothing did; not the hunger nor the thirst; not even the hideous creatures that had hunted them. Ragnol's many and varied desires in life had been worn down to two burning obsessions: The first was to reach the mountains, for there they'd find water! Water and Slathland troops! The second was his desire for revenge.
Nex roused himself to see Ragnol limping away. "Fool!", he cursed, his mouth too dry to do more than croak out the word. Then, seeing for the first time the purple haze of the distant mountains, he willed himself to stand, calling on his hatred to give him strength. It had done so in the past --- it would do so again. The despised 'foreigner' was rapidly becoming smaller, leaving him behind like a discarded water-skin that. Nex ground his teeth against the pain from his blistered and bleeding feet. 'I WILL MAKE THEM PAY!', his brain screamed, as he hobbled after Ragnol.
The word 'pay', like a perverted prayer, came time and time again to his cracked lips.
***
Chapter 22: 'NORTHWARD THROUGH THE TARN'
They did not leave the next day, for the three Delgii needed rest. Their wounds, though not overly serious, were many. Bragi, the elderly Delgi from Dingle's band, had received a nasty cut on his left arm when a Karn axe had shattered his shield; while Snorn, another old veteran, had a jagged cut over one eye and several cracked ribs. As for Cynwulf, he had lost a great deal of blood when a Karn tulwar had slashed his leg and could barely walk in the morning.
The extra day was also needed for Bar Gildar to recover from his bout with Erin. One hundred of the Zorka's personal Warders were chosen and ten long, narrow Nim-Lothian boats were fitted out for the northward dash through the Tarn. Holding ten fully armoured fighters and provisions, the sturdy craft could be paddled or sailed at an amazingly swift pace. Erin, using his newfound authority as The Raven, ordered an eleventh boat to be made ready.
"You're going then?", said Thorn the evening after Cynwulf's arrival.
"Aye, laddie, that I am. How can I not? Besides, we've been down this path before. It be a matter o' honour."
Thorn shook his head and smiled. "It coul
dn't be that you're just a wee bit in love with death?"
Erin paused before downing the rest of his ale. "Perhaps. We o' The Isles are a fae lot. But whatever the reason, come dawn I'm off back across the Tarn. Be you with me?"
"Why not?", Thorn shrugged, his mood suddenly grim. "I like old Dingle, and it's not like have anywhere else to go."
Erin clapped him on the back and filled two more mugs. "A toast then, laddie-buck! 'May the wind fill our sails, our blades never fail, and may the fornicatin' Karns tremble at our very names!'"
"'To the Wanderer and the Watcher'!", Thorn said.
"'Long may they both live'!", Erin grinned.
They drank, then the Kirkwean held up his mug once more. "And to The Raven; though if you've any more titles, kindly keep them to yourself, for my poor head is fairly swimming now!"
The tall man from Loamin roared with laughter. "Faith, but I do tend to pick them up like nettles in a briar patch now don't I? Well, t'was the darlin' girl herself that thrust that one upon me, 'n though I could care less about the name or this fancy red headband, t'is a grand ring shirt all the same!"
As Erin drained his second mug, Thorn had a sudden premonition that there just might prove more to being chosen 'The Raven' than wearing fancy black armour.
***
Zoean was furious. When she heard that Gildar was to lead a hundred warriors north to help the Highland Delgii, she had demanded to go along. Her father had refused. When she heard that The Raven and the rest of Mythdarian's strange party was also going, along with Flynnial, she had stormed out of the Great Hall, cursing everything is sight and 'all males' in particular. Her servant, Nobert, had merely shrugged and followed.
"Not a lass to sit quietly by the hearth now, is she?", Erin remarked as Zoean stormed past. Woodsmaster Flynnial smiled and Kel cocked his eyebrow. Thorn and Timin stared after the outraged princess, then followed the others into the Great Hall. There was much to do if they were to leave before noon.
***
As they made their way to the dock, they could hear the angry voices. The crowd parted to let them through and they saw Zoean sitting regally in one of the boats. Her servant Nobert stood on the dock, his hand resting on the hilt of his broadsword. Bar Gildar, part of a bandage showing from under his plumed helm, was trying to persuade her to get out of the boat. When soft words didn't work, he became more firm. When that failed he made to enter the boat and drag her out. The grizzly Nobert however, blocked his way.
"Nob here has gutted more men than you have fish, Gildar," Zoean said coldly. "He swore to my father to 'protect me with his life', and if you dare lay one finger on me, he'll do just that --- and Gildar," she said sweetly. "You're in no condition to stop him; not after your little display with our newly minted 'Raven'."
Several of the Lake Warders smiled at her words and Gildar glared at them. "I shall have to inform your father, my lady, if you persist in this madness!" Zoean tossed her black main in contempt. "For long now I have done as I please, regardless of my noble father's wishes. It pleases me to go , and so go I shall. Besides, I have The Raven to watch over me. Could YOU do any better?!"
This last brought forth more than a few smiles from both the warriors and the Nim-Loth gathered to see them off. Gildar, his face red with fury, stomped away to his own boat. Erin walked over and gazed down at the beautiful maid. She in turn smiled back at him sweetly, though there was a fierceness in her pale blue eyes that dared him to just try and remove her.
"Faith, lass, if your blade be but half as sharp as your tongue, then it's bloody red death you'll be visitin' upon the black-hearted Karns!"
The firm lines around her jaw softened and she nodded gracefully. "Once again the man from Loamin has shown greater wisdom than the Nim-Loth. But we are not all pompous blowhards like Gildar. Take care not to judge all by the deeds of one!"
"I'd not be thinkin' o' it, me darlin girl!", beamed Erin as he stepped lightly aboard. "But nights in the Tarn can be fiercesome cold, 'n you'll be needin more than that wee tunic 'n ring shirt to keep you warm. Not a lad here would care to see those gorgeous legs o' yours turn blue from the frost."
Chuckles came from the common Warders as they climbed aboard, but Zoean's blue eyes never left Erin. "My legs and I are no concern of you, 'manling', and I'll thank you to mind your own business in the future!"
"Have it you're way, lass. But if you sail with me you'll pull your own weight, n' that means jump when I say jump n' be silent when you're told. If you can live with that then welcome aboard --- but if you can't, then yonder great watch-dog or no, it's tossin' you out o' my craft I'll be!"
For a moment it looked as though Zoean was about to have one of her famous tantrums, but then the 'storm clouds' passed, leaving only the sweet infinity of her sky-blue eyes. "A captain should always be obeyed on board his own craft." Her words dripped like honey from her perfect mouth.
Erin grunted and took his place in the stern, yet there was a hint of a smile on his weathered face.
Soon all eleven sleek Nim-Lothian boats were gliding over the sparkling waters of the lake, heading for the main channel that led into The Tarn. The wind was south by southwest and the white sails billowed like fleecy clouds.
Besides the two Kirkwean, Kel and Mithdar, the 'crew' of Erin's craft consisted of the three Delgii, Zoean and her silent 'Nob', and the Narthrond, Flynnial. Eleven in all, yet under Erin's skillful hand the sturdy little vessel fairly flew over the water. Soon the other ten craft of Gildar's Lake Warders began to fall behind. The Woodsmaster made his way back to the stern.
"You've a rare skill with sail as well as sword, Lord Raven. Think you to best Gildar a second time?"
"Me name's Erin to my friends, Master Narthrond, 'n if the Lake Warden can't keep up, then let him fill his sail with his own hot air, for faith, he's plenty o' it!"
The slender Nim-Loth smiled. "I'd be pleased if you'd call me Flynn."
"'Flynn' it is then!", beamed Erin, hauling in on the mainstay. "Be duckin' yer pretty head now, darlin' girl, for we're takin' the larboard tack!" Zoean and the others just had time to move as the boom swung over and the sail once again filled. Gildar's fleet slipped a little further behind.
"He'll not love you for this!", Flynn beamed, obviously enjoying himself.
"He loves me not over much now!", Erin chuckled; 'but then I've never been too concerned what other men thought o' me!" As he spoke his wolf grey eyes swept over Zoean, lingering on her long, tanned legs.
Flynn caught his glance and smiled. "She is lovely."
"What? Oh, aye, Flynn-lad, that she is! Be there a claim on her?"
When the woodsmaster looked puzzled, Erin explained. "A 'claim', man? You know, be she spoken for? Betrothed?"
Now it was the Nim-Loth's turn to laugh. "No male, be he Nim-Loth or other, could ever 'claim' Zoean Ithilian. I have known her for many turnings, ever since I found her lots in my woods and took her as my student. Believe me, friend Erin, 'Zoean the Wild' is not easily ---", he paused, looking for the right word in the Trade Tongue. "'Wooed' I believe is how you say it."
"Flynn-me-lad, there be a first time for everything!" The two of them were still chuckling when the boat glided into the wide river channel leading into The Tarn.
***
Bar Gildar was in a foul mood when he at last caught up with Erin and the Kirkwean craft. It was almost dark when the little fleet landed on a small isle, only to find a merry fire going and Zoean sitting wrapped in Erin's spare cloak, her dazzling eyes mocking him from the far side of the flames. Gildar removed his silver helm and gazed around the camp.
"I could see that damn fire from clear across the lake!", he barked.
Zoean took a slab off cooked meet Timin had sliced for her and glanced up at the fuming Lake Warden. "So that's how you found us. I'd about given the lot of you up for lost."
Gildar reddened and rung his doeskin gauntlets like a man strangling a chicken. "Where is the 'manling'?! I've a few choice words to say to him!
And where is your sentries? Sweet Oma, Zoean, we could have been a pack of ravaging Glam Roth!"
"Erin is off somewhere with Flynn and the strange-eyed bowman. As for guards, look behind you."
Gildar turned to see the three Delgii step out from the shadows. Cynwulf's long hooked pike 'Gutter' was but a hand space from his stomach. A owl hooted above them. As Gildar's eyes rolled upward, he saw Thorn standing on the limb of a large pine, his short bow nocked and ready as his word floated politely down.
"Good evening to you, Lord Gildar. I'm glad you finally saw the fire. I've been watching you for some time now."
Gildar turned on his heel and bellowed for his Warders to make camp, then he strode back to the shore. Mithdar, who had been gathering some herbs from a thicket on the edge of the camp, chuckled to himself and went back to work.
"Begging your pardon, Lady," Timin asked quietly; "but do you think it wise to bait him so? He is a bit of a dandy, but he's powerfully smitten with you."
Zoean tossed her head to one side, causing a night black cascade of hair to gleam in the firelight. "And just how, Master Wee'n, do you come by such 'intimate' knowledge?"
Timin blushed and fiddled with his beloved cooking pots. "How could he not be, Lady? We all are."
Zoean's wide eyes opened even wider, the flecks of gold in them catching the fire's glow. She leaned close and kissed the small Kirkwean lightly on his forehead. "How gallant of you, kind sir, but I hardly think that 'all' is the correct word. Certainly not the tall 'manling'."
Timin poured some steaming mint tea into several tin cups. "Well, as for Erin Longshanks, I can't rightly say. He's a strange one, Lady. 'Deep as a well' as we say back in The Wold. And as cold too --- yet there's a rare kindness in him, though I think he tries to keep it hidden."
Zoean accepted the steaming tea and smiled. "You're a strange one yourself, Master Timin; warrior, cook, and now 'philosopher'! What other talents have you hidden away inside you?"
