[Ulthuan 01] - Defenders of Ulthuan

by Graham McNeill

  The Tower of Hoeth loomed ahead of him, stark and cold, and Caelir wondered what destiny awaited him within its walls.

  He did not look back at the mountains as he rode, anxious to be kept safe by the presence of those who called this land home.

  Yes, Ulthuan was an enchanted isle, full of wonders and miracles, but every now and then it taught those who dwelt upon it that magic was the most dangerous force in the world.

  It was a lesson Caelir vowed not to forget.

  Cairn Auriel was the name of the harbour and Eldain could remember no finer sight as the sharp prow of the Dragonkin sliced the clear waters of evening towards it. Together with Rhianna, he stood at the sloop’s prow as they sailed past the glowing beacon of a silver lighthouse that lit the natural harbour cut into the high cliffs on the western coast of Saphery.

  Structures of grace and simplicity surrounded a naturally sheltered bay of pale sand: white towers, golden domes and columned arcades were artfully arranged in an orderly and elegant manner around the fringes of the cliffs. Laughter and music drifted through the darkness and Eldain felt his heart sing in response to the sounds of life and joy. He put his arm around Rhianna and drew her close.

  “I had forgotten how much I had missed Saphery,” he said. “It has been too long since I have travelled here.”

  “We were always welcome at my father’s villa,” Rhianna said.

  “I know, but after the expedition to Naggaroth…”

  Rhianna returned his embrace and he felt as though the great weight of guilt upon his shoulders might someday be lifted by the healing magic of Ulthuan and the love of this wonderful companion beside him.

  “It will be good to set foot on dry land,” said Rhianna. “Though I feel the magic throughout Ulthuan, I feel it most strongly in Saphery.”

  Eldain smiled at the sound of her enthusiasm and turned his head to call out to Captain Bellaeir. “My thanks, captain. You have sailed us true.”

  Seated at the vessel’s tiller beneath a glowing lantern, Bellaeir waved and returned to his steering of the ship.

  As they drew closer, Eldain marvelled at the construction of the harbour buildings, their slender marble quays projecting into the bay and floating just above the smooth surface of the water. Now that he knew to look for it, he saw the ripple of magic around the settlement, clinging to tall watchtowers, shimmering over the placid waters and carrying the sound of its inhabitants to them.

  The crew of the sloop moved to attend to the task of bringing their ship into the harbour, but their efforts were unnecessary, for magical currents drew the ship in safely and brought it to a smooth halt against one of the quays.

  Laughing, the crew disembarked and tied their ship to silver bollards, though Eldain suspected that the ship would remain exactly where it was without such restraints. He turned to retrieve his belongings, watching as Yvraine rose from her position in the centre of the sloop and bowed to the captain before smoothly vaulting onto the quay, her sword impeding her not at all.

  Eldain marvelled at her liquid movement, knowing that, save on the back of the horse, he could never match her preternatural grace. Ever since they had sailed past the Isle of the Dead, the Sword Master had kept her own counsel, her silences broken only by the occasional affirmation of her wellbeing.

  Now that she set foot on Saphery once more, Eldain could see a lightness to her spirit he had not known she possessed in all the days he had known her.

  “Someone is glad to be back,” he said to Rhianna as she joined him.

  She looked up with an indulgent smile and said, “I can understand how she feels. Imagine how you will feel when you return to Ellyrion.”

  “True. Even though Saphery is not Ellyrion, it will be good to ride Lotharin once again. The smooth waters of the inner ocean do not compare to riding a fine Ellyrian steed.”

  As he gathered up the last of his possessions, the crew lowered a ramp from the side of the Dragonkin to the quayside and Eldain all but bounded over to the hold where their horses had spent the bulk of the sea journey.

  Lotharin cantered from the hold first, his black coat shimmering in the glow of the lighthouse, closely followed by Rhianna’s horse, Orsien—a fine, silver gelding from Saphery with dappled flanks and a haughty intelligence in his pale green eyes. Behind these two magnificent steeds came Irenya, a dun mare that had belonged to one of Ellyr-Charoi’s retainers, but who had been left riderless when her rider had perished on the same expedition that had seen Caelir lost. Yvraine had ridden Irenya from Eldain’s villa and though the Sword Master had not enjoyed the ride to Tor Elyr, the horse had rejoiced in the chance to bear a rider once more.

  Eldain let his horse nuzzle him and ran his hands down its neck, whispering in its ears and speaking in a manner unknown beyond the plains of Ellyrion. The horse whinnied excitedly and Eldain laughed at its pleasure in being able to bear him onwards.

  He led Lotharin and Irenya from the Dragonkin, glad to feel solid ground beneath him, even if it was supported by magic. Rhianna led Orsien and when their mounts and belongings were disembarked, Eldain saw Bellaeir approach from the vessel’s stern.

  “Lord Eldain, do you wish me to await your return?” said the captain.

  “Yes,” said Eldain, “though I cannot say how long we will remain in Saphery.”

  Bellaeir shrugged. “We can rest here in Cairn Auriel for a spell, my lord. We are not required at the muster of Lothern, for a ship the size of the Dragonkin would be of little use in a battle.”

  “I will send word when our situation becomes clearer, captain,” said Eldain. “In the meantime, payment will be lodged at the counting house and you may take what you are owed until we return.”

  “That will be most satisfactory, my lord,” said Bellaeir with a smile. “If you are looking for accommodation for the night, you could do worse than the Light of Korhadris. The food is plentiful and the wines are of the finest vintage known to elfkind.”

  Eldain waved his thanks to the captain and turned away, following his horse as it led the way to the harbour town of Cairn Auriel. He caught up with Rhianna and Yvraine as they awaited him at the end of the quay.

  With the glow of the lighthouse now behind him, he saw a distant spike of white light on the horizon.

  “I thought the Tower of Hoeth was supposed to be hard to find,” said Eldain.

  “You have no idea,” said Yvraine.

  Captain Bellaeir’s recommendation that they stay at the Light of Korhadris proved to be an inspired choice, for their welcome was hearty and the menu extensive. Set amid white cliffs, Cairn Auriel spread outwards in radiating streets from the horseshoe shaped bay, fanning upwards on the slopes of the coastline towards the land of Saphery itself.

  The proprietor of the establishment was a jovial elf of advancing years who bid them welcome and immediately set about seeing to their comfort with utmost vigour. The interior of his hostelry was elegant and, though somewhat ostentatious for Eldain’s tastes, apparently typical of Sapherian vernacular.

  Few other patrons were present and the three of them made no effort to socialise with the well-dressed travellers they saw at other tables. Softly glowing orbs of magical light hung in the air, casting a warm, homely light throughout the public areas and Eldain felt his skin tingle with the presence of so much magic in the air.

  “Is it not a little frivolous to employ magic for such mundane things as lighting?” he asked.

  Rhianna laughed. “You are in Saphery now, Eldain. Magic is all around you.”

  “I suppose,” he said. “I had forgotten how different your land is from mine.”

  “Well we’re here now and it’s good to be back. Don’t you agree, Yvraine?”

  The Sword Master sat a little way from them, close enough to be included in their company, yet far enough away to appear distant. Eldain noted Yvraine had the same revitalised look he could see in Rhianna’s eyes and was not surprised to hear an edge of anticipation in her voice when she spoke.


  “Yes, it is good to be home. Though I will be happier when we reach the White Tower.”

  “How far is it from here?” asked Eldain.

  “That depends,” said Yvraine.

  “Depends? On what?”

  “On whether the tower deems us worthy of approaching it.”

  “I thought we were invited? By Rhianna’s father.”

  “We have been,” nodded Yvraine, “but the magical wards that protect the tower will not relax its guard for something as prosaic as an invitation. Only the true seeker of knowledge can approach the tower safely.”

  “These wards…” said Eldain. “What are they?”

  “Spells woven in the time of Bel-Korhadris, the builder of the tower. A maze of illusions and magical snares that entrap those who come seeking power or whose hearts are poisoned by evil.”

  Eldain shifted uncomfortably in his chair and said, “And what happens to such people?”

  Yvraine shrugged. “Some find that no matter which direction they walk, their footsteps will always carry them away from the tower.”

  “And others?”

  “Others are never seen again.”

  “They die?”

  “I do not think that even the Loremasters know for certain, but it seems likely.”

  Eldain felt a tightness in his chest as he thought of Caelir and wondered if the White Tower would find that black spot in his heart and if it would judge him harshly when the time came.

  Surely the acquisition of love, no matter how it was attained could not be held as evil? He looked over at Rhianna and smiled, enjoying the play of shadows cast by the magical lights on her beautiful features.

  Sensing his scrutiny, she turned to face him and returned his smile.

  He reached out and took her hand as the proprietor returned with platters of silver-skinned fish, steaming vegetables and a decanter of a robust, aromatic wine.

  They smiled their thanks and ate the remainder of their meal in silence, enjoying the homely atmosphere and the sensation common to all travellers enjoying one another’s company in unfamiliar, exciting locales.

  At the conclusion of the meal, Yvraine excused herself and retired to meditate and complete her daily regime of martial exercises. When she had left, Eldain and Rhianna climbed a curving set of stairs to the establishment’s upper mezzanine, where their own chambers were located. A perfumed breeze sighed into their room, rippling the gossamer-thin curtains and carrying the salty tang of the ocean. Together, they stepped through an archway onto an elegantly crafted balcony constructed of willowy timbers that overlooked the bay.

  As they made their way to the rail, Rhianna’s arm naturally slipped through Eldain’s and they sipped their wine as they stared out into the peace of the ocean.

  Like a great black mirror, the waters reflected the stars above and a perfect image of the heavens spread before them like a velvet cloth sprinkled with diamond dust.

  A few ships plied the open waters, guide lights shimmering at their mastheads and bowsprits the only sign of their passage across the sea. The lights of Cairn Auriel linked together in a golden web, as though the streets ran with molten fire, and Eldain thought the scene unbearably beautiful.

  The sense of contentment he felt while looking out over the ocean was a soothing balm on his soul and the cares he had felt loosening since their departure from Ellyr-Charoi now seemed as though they belonged to someone else.

  “What if we never went back?” he said suddenly.

  “What? Never went back where?” said Rhianna.

  “To Ellyr-Charoi. You said it yourself—we’ve been cooped up there too long. A weight of grief hangs over it now, too much for us to bear for very much longer, I think. If we remain there we will become ghosts ourselves.”

  Rhianna looked up at him and he could see the idea appealed to her.

  “You really mean that? You’d leave?”

  “For you I would,” he said. “Since we left to travel to Saphery, I have felt the cares of the last few years fall away and I have realised that my grief was dragging you down with me. If we are to start living our lives then I believe it must be away from Ellyr-Charoi.”

  “Where would we go?”

  “Anywhere you like,” promised Eldain. “Eataine, Saphery, Avelorn… Anywhere we could start afresh, you, me and… who knows, perhaps even a family.”

  “A family?” said Rhianna, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “Us?”

  “Yes. If Isha wills it.”

  Rhianna buried her head against Eldain’s shoulder and he could hear her cry softly, but unlike the tears he knew she had shed in Ellyr-Charoi, these were wept in joy.

  “You do not know how long I have wanted you to say these words, Eldain,” said Rhianna. “I didn’t dare hope our lives would ever be lifted from Caelir’s shadow.”

  He smiled and pulled her close, feeling no pain at the mention of his dead brother’s name, no heartsick flinch or wave of black guilt, merely an acknowledgement that his brother was gone and that Rhianna was now his.

  “I know, and for that I am truly sorry. I think a lingering taint of the Land of Chill remained in my heart ever since I returned from the raid on the druchii. It poisoned me, but it is gone now, my love. I am yours now, heart and soul.”

  He leaned down to kiss Rhianna and she raised her face to his. They kissed and there was no restraint and none of the reserve that had marked their expressions of love in the few times they had shared the marriage bed.

  By unspoken agreement, they drained the last of their wine and withdrew from the balcony to the bedchamber. In the pale luminescence of magical light, they undressed and slipped beneath silken sheets with the excitement of new lovers on the verge of new and undiscovered pleasures.

  Starlight streamed in through the archway, shimmering their skin and bathing their lovemaking in pure silver light. They explored each other’s flesh as though it were an undiscovered country, learning more of each other in one night than they had in all the years since they had met.

  The magic of their union poured into the air of Saphery and it in turn returned their passions, magical winds swooping and dancing around the room and the softly glowing lights that floated above the bed flaring with incandescent fire.

  They laughed and cried together and Rhianna held Eldain tightly as they finally lay in one another’s arms; lovers, friends and, at last, devoted husband and loving wife.

  As the world turned and starlight gave way to sunlight, Eldain awoke with a smile upon his face and his body singing with the promise of great things to come.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Tower

  Hand in hand, Eldain and Rhianna made their way downstairs to find Yvraine waiting for them at the breakfast table. The Sword Master smiled at the sight of them and said, “You both look… refreshed.”

  “I am refreshed,” said Eldain, sitting beside Yvraine and cutting several slices of bread from a freshly baked loaf. “I feel more alive than ever before. How are you this morning? Did you finally get to meditate properly now that you’re back on dry land?”

  “I did,” said Yvraine, looking over at Rhianna and Mushing as she understood the nature of their newfound happiness. “I slept very well.”

  Eldain passed a plate of bread to Rhianna and wolfed down a number of honeyed oatcakes before draining a glass of fresh aoilym juice. His appetite sated, he ventured outside to the stables where their horses had spent the night, pleased to find that the ostler knew his trade and that the steeds had been well cared for. Each had been groomed and fed fine Sapherian grain imbued with the magic of the land itself. Though an Ellyrian groom would have already run the horses out before now, Eldain’s mood was too light to find fault with the care the horses had received.

  He thanked the ostler and walked the horses around the paddock cut into the side of the cliff, allowing them to shake out the night’s torpor and prepare for the ride ahead. If what Yvraine had said was true, and he had no cause to doubt her, then it coul
d be an indeterminate time until they reached the White Tower.

  By the time the horses had thrown off the lethargy of the night and were ready for the day’s exertions, he could sense the anticipation they felt at the prospect of exploring Saphery and led them around to the front of the Light of Korhadris.

  The streets of Cairn Auriel were busy and a number of passers-by stopped to admire the horses. Eldain spent a pleasant few moments conversing with each person as they commented on the beauty of the Ellyrian steeds, engaging in small talk he would have found intolerable only a few short weeks ago.

  Yvraine and Rhianna emerged from the hostelry looking refreshed and eager to continue on their way. They mounted their steeds and Eldain checked the work of the ostler one last time before vaulting onto Lotharin’s back.

  He turned to Yvraine and said, “This is your country now, Mistress Hawkblade. Lead on.”

  The Sword Master pointed to a road that climbed a steep, zigzagging route up the cliffs between tall trellises of gold and silver lined with summer blossoms.

  “That way,” she said. “Once we are at the top of the cliff, we will be able to see the White Tower. We will ride towards it and if we are welcome we should arrive there sometime this evening.”

  “Then let’s hope we’ll be welcome,” said Eldain, urging Lotharin onwards with a gentle pressure from his knees. “Seekers after truth, you say?”

  Yvraine nodded. “If you would be a real seeker after truth, it is necessary that at least once in your life you have experienced doubt.”

  “Oh, that I have in plentiful supply,” said Eldain.

  Soon the white buildings of the coastal settlement were behind them and they joined the road that climbed the sheer cliffs towards the flatlands of Saphery. Lesser steeds than those of elven stock would have balked at the climb, but to horses from Ellyrion, the climb was no more arduous than a straight road.

  When he was halfway up the cliffside path, Eldain looked back down onto the settlement, relishing the dizzying sensation of height. The path was barely wide enough for his horse and a sheer drop of hundreds of feet awaited him should he fall, but Eldain had no fear of Lotharin losing his footing.