The Longsword Chronicles: Book 02 - Sword and Circle

by GJ Kelly

  He held her thus, rocking gently back and forth, her face inches from his, feeling her breath upon his cheek as he caressed her brow.

  “Dum vitala est spesilla est...” Allazar croaked again, still crawling towards them, in obvious pain, his face bloody from a cut above his eye where, presumably, he’d landed hard. He was dragging the lustrous white staff with him, though strangely, its considerable weight didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.

  “I don’t understand, Allazar, I don’t understand the wizard’s tongue!” Gawain gasped in anguish, and the wizard sighed, and at the edge of the circle, gave up the struggle, and simply laid face down on the marble, and closed his eyes.

  It was at least an hour later, Gawain still rocking Elayeen in his arms and whispering her name over and over, Allazar still asleep or unconscious half in and half out of the circle and still clutching the staff, when the elfin queen of Raheen stirred a little, and took deeper breaths.

  Gawain’s eyes snapped open, and he studied her face, let out a great gasp of joy when finally her eyelids fluttered, and cried ‘Oh Elayeen!” when she opened them, and he gazed once more into her beautiful hazel-green eyes.

  “Miheth?” she whispered.

  Something was wrong. Her pupils were but pin-points of black in her gold-flecked irises.

  “Here, my love, hush, I’m here.”

  “G’wain?”

  “Yes. The circle… we were thrown from it. Don’t try to move yet, tell me where you hurt, can you feel your legs miheth, can you move your feet just a little?”

  Much to Gawain’s delight, her dainty booted feet flexed a little, then she bent her knees a little, and flexed her legs and arms.

  “My head aches, G’wain, and my shoulder…and…and my hand.”

  “I’m not surprised, miheth, we were flung out with great force. Poor Allazar, he is cut, and seems unconscious…”

  “G’wain…” Elayeen whispered, her face pointed upward to the sky through the top of the Keep, her eyes gazing straight ahead. “G’wain, I cannot see. All is darkness.”

  oOo

  9. Descent

  Elayeen wept, her sightless eyes screwed tight shut, her face buried in Gawain’s tunic. He simply held her, tightly, his arms about her, his right hand buried deep in her hair. All he could do was rock her gently, and say her name. Thus he held her, until the tears and the shuddering of her slender shoulders subsided.

  At length she spoke, softly. “Allazar?”

  “I think he sleeps, miheth.”

  “You should tend him. You said he was bleeding.”

  “Yes. But I won’t leave you…”

  “You must. He is our friend. Go to him, I am safe enough here. Go, G’wain.”

  Gawain cradled her tear-streaked face in his hand, her eyes wide open now but staring straight through him, seeing him not, and he kissed her. She held on to his arm a while, then allowed him to disengage from her, sitting quietly while he moved away.

  Allazar groaned a little when Gawain gently shook him and called his name. Gawain knew Allazar’s injuries couldn’t involve broken bones, not from the way the wizard had crawled so far towards himself and Elayeen. He tried to roll the wizard over, but even senseless, Allazar refused to relinquish his grip on the staff. Gawain, in turmoil and in fear, his beloved blind and great waves of guilt washing over him that it was he, Gawain of Raheen, who had caused this catastrophe, suddenly shook the wizard violently.

  Allazar groaned again, and stirred, and then seemed to protest in words Gawain could not understand.

  “Wake up, whitebeard, I need you! I need you Allazar, Elayeen needs you!”

  “Eyem arrak, Longsword, arrak, dar me paxana…” Allazar muttered, and looked up, dazed, as if being woken from a deep sleep. Dried blood caked his face, his left eye swollen closed by the bruise and the cut he’d received.

  The wizard pushed himself up to his knees, and then caught sight of Elayeen, sitting alone, gazing into space, utterly bereft. At that, Allazar sat back on his legs, then swung the staff as though it were a simple walking stick, slamming it upright and with it, dragging himself up to his feet. He wobbled a little, scanned the hall, and then hobbled towards Elayeen, Gawain at his side. When they drew close to Elayeen’s side, Allazar simply slid down the staff to plop unceremoniously beside her.

  “Allazar?” Elayeen sighed. “Are you hurt?”

  “Nai, Elayeen, Eyem nai malak. Et dthu, dthu meleeah?”

  “I don’t understand, Allazar, I don’t understand your words.”

  “Dwarfspit, Allazar, have you forgotten how to speak the common tongue?” Gawain cried in anguish. “Elayeen is blind, wizard, you must do something!”

  For a long moment, Allazar stared at Gawain as he might at some fantastic creature made real from childhood imagination. Then his eyes narrowed, he stared at Elayeen’s face, then back up at Gawain.

  “Dthu nai me compinde? Verithias?” he gasped.

  “Dwarfspit and Elve’s Blood!” Gawain cried, and then sank to his knees before both of them. “Listen to me,” he said forcefully, trying desperately to quell the raging emotion within him, “We must go down. We cannot stay here. Elayeen, my love, Allazar seems dazed, half here and half elsewhere, and you, I must get you and he to a healer as quickly as I can.”

  Elayeen simply nodded towards the sound of his voice.

  “Can you stay here, you and Allazar? I will saddle the horses, gather our things, and we’ll leave. Yes?”

  “Yes, G’wain.” Elayeen said, simply, and lifelessly.

  “Ay, Longsword, compindathu.” Allazar announced, clutching the staff in his right hand, and Elayeen’s uninjured hand in his left, and occasionally jerking his head this way and that, as if distracted by people or things moving around them in that vast empty hall.

  Gawain sighed, and hurried to the waiting horses. Gwyn bobbed her head and snorted at his approach. “By the Teeth, Ugly,” he whispered, patting Gwyn’s neck, “Never have I needed you more.”

  In haste, Gawain saddled the horses, and in haste, gave them a last watering. The pack-horse would at least have a slightly less burdensome journey down the pass than she’d had coming up.

  “Mi scribendana!” Allazar called, suddenly alarmed, and making Gawain jump in the silence of Keep. “Mi scribendana!” he called again, waving frantically at the shoulder bag containing his notebooks far across the other side of the Keep.

  “Dwarfspit.” Gawain muttered, and ran stiffly, his muscles still aching from the circle’s blast, to collect the leather bag. He made a point of showing the wizard that it was now safely in his possession, and slung it over his shoulder, making certain it and its contents were secure. For all Gawain knew, the notes Allazar had made may contain a clue to Elayeen’s blindness, and possibly even a way of undoing it. Gawain could only hope her condition was a temporary one.

  Gawain crossed the circle, drew the Sword of Justice from the home-stone, and without even thinking about it, slipped it into the sheath behind his back.

  “Now,” he announced, squatting down beside his companions. “I will take Allazar and put him on his horse…”

  “Compindathu, Longsword!” Allazar called out, as though Gawain were deaf, or a foreigner, or thirty feet away, or all three.

  “I will put Allazar on his horse, miheth,” Gawain repeated, and then come back for you. I’ll carry you, Gwyn has carried us both before a much greater distance than our journey now.”

  “I can ride, G’wain.” Elayeen said, her voice weak.

  “Yes, you can, once you are healed and we are again in the lowlands. Please, Elayeen, wait for me here, I’ll be back in a moment. Come Allazar.”

  “Compindathu, Longsword!” Allazar called out again, and allowed Gawain to help him to his feet, and shakily, across the Keep to the waiting horses. It took some manhandling to get Allazar into the saddle, for he wouldn’t relinquish the staff for a moment.

  “Wait here.” Gawain commanded, and tied a trailing rope from Alla
zar’s reins and looped the free end over the horn on Gwyn’s saddle. Then he went back for Elayeen.

  She was standing, silently, nursing her injured hand and looking so fragile, a pale and broken shadow of the glorious elfin thalin who had charged in from the north and shot Salaman Goth clean through from the saddle at full gallop less than a day earlier. Gawain choked back a surge of emotion and simply swept her up into his arms, and carried her in silence to Gwyn.

  Once mounted, the trailing rope to Allazar’s steed secured, and Elayeen safe in his arms, he stared long and hard at the Circle of Justice, the runes glowing faintly. Then he looked up at the broken thrones, and the ghosts of all the great kings watching there.

  There will be no breach at the Teeth, he thought at them, grimly, not for at least another thousand years. Morloch is bound again. Yet there is no joy in this victory. There is only pain, and loss, and no justice for any of us here.

  With that, he allowed Gwyn to step through the great archway, out into the bright morning sunshine, which Elayeen could not see.

  But for occasional incomprehensible cries from Allazar, swaying precariously in his saddle and clinging to the staff, and but for the clopping of hooves upon the bleached cobbled track that was the Downland Road, they rode in silence. Elayeen, cradled in Gawain’s arms as she had been when Gwyn carried them both on their epic journey to Threlland from Elvenheth in midwinter, closed her sightless eyes, and seemed to sleep, though Gawain could tell by her breathing she was awake.

  At the Farin Bridge, Gawain slowed, eyeing the powdery remains of Salaman Goth’s guardstones, shattered into dust, possibly by the great wave of the Circle of Justice, or perhaps destroyed when the dark wizard died, Gawain did not know. He only knew it mattered not, for he doubted, and with great conviction, he would ever cross the Farin Bridge again. The knowledge did not slow him for long, and once safely across the narrow bridge he picked up the pace again.

  When later he paused to water the horses, Elayeen stood quietly, her good hand buried in Gwyn’s mane while Gawain busied himself with his duties. And she made no protest, and said nothing, when Gawain swept her into his arms again.

  For Gawain, the journey was a nightmare of silence and desolation and a new grief. He had seen, in the reflection of his boot knife in the Keep, the black braid in his own hair bleached blonde again, and there was a hole deep within him where once Elayeen’s heart beat in his breast. He couldn’t feel her now, within, and he knew by her silence she could not feel him.

  No longer did memories of Raheen and images of his earlier life drag his eyes this way and that along the road, no longer did he burn with the outrage at the complete devastation Morloch had inflicted upon his land and his people. Now, there was just the mumbling wizard behind him, and his beloved curled silent in his arms, and the great gaping hole in their lives that the circle had ripped from them. One memory, a recent one, pressed in on him, and brought silent tears to his eyes, the sound of his own voice echoing around the walls of the Keep:

  “I can feel your apprehension, mithroth, and I know you would leave here, and make haste for Elvendere and Shiyanath. I will not ask you to do this, nor would I command it, even in sight of the cracked and broken thrones above us and the ghosts of all the great kings who once sat there.

  “But the very fact that Morloch would rather see me dead than stand in this circle is all I need to know to make me do so, and gladly.”

  Finally, as Gwyn unerringly led them and the rider-less horses across the barren market square of Downland and on to the slope leading to the Pass, Gawain called out, his voice breaking:

  “We begin the descent, keep calm and all will be well.” And then, softer and more like a prayer than words of reassurance, “All will be well.”

  “Compindathu, Longsword!” Allazar shouted again, and glancing over his shoulder Gawain could see the wizard looked a little steadier in the saddle, though still distracted, as if hearing other voices on the path.

  Gawain allowed Gwyn free rein and she welcomed it, following the path well-taken closest the wall of the cliffs, furthest from the bitter edge overlooking Callodon. When they rounded the bend halfway down and the sparkling blue waters of the Sea of Hope hove into view, Gawain shut his eyes to blot out the sight of it.

  What Hope? He thought. My lady cannot see, my wizard her friend is half mad, and the greatest gift an elfin lady can ever hope to share with her husband has been rent asunder. Her Hope was to see her homeland again, her friends and family, to see them safe once more before the coming war at the farak gorin. What hope now of that?

  And my Hope? What was my hope? To destroy Morloch? Morloch yet lives, though his plans to breach the Teeth are shattered like the bodies of those minions who laboured long upon them.

  What was Allazar’s Hope? Freedom and Justice For All? Was that the great hope that shone in his eyes in the centre of the circle as he leaned smiling upon the black staff of Salaman Goth, now bleached a lustrous pearl-white? How can it be so, if no-one can understand his words and his life is spent only half-aware of this world?

  What was it I said? ‘If our stepping into this circle should unleash some wild and dread power which annihilates utterly the evil yet lurking beyond The Dragon’s Teeth, I would do so in an instant.’

  Gawain sighed, and opened his brimming eyes, to gaze upon the bereaved and slender form of his lady love.

  If I had known the price of unleashing that wild and dread power, and that the evil would yet lurk intact beyond The Dragon’s Teeth, would I have been so quick to pay it?

  Near the foot of the Pass, Gawain saw Captain Tyrane marshalling his men, clearing the obstacles which had been laid to deny an enemy passage to Raheen, a needless defence now. The captain also clearly guessed that something was seriously awry with the Crowns of Raheen and their wizard, for a guardsman wearing the white sleeves of a battlefield healer stood in readiness, and a litter had been brought to a makeshift mustering point where the ground levelled at the base of the cliff.

  “We are almost there, my love,” Gawain whispered, “Soon there’ll be hot food, and hot baths, and warm beds.”

  But Elayeen gave no answer, made no sound, and simply lay quietly in his arms.

  At the foot of the Pass, Tyrane and a handful of men advanced to steady the horses, to help Allazar from the saddle, and wait with dread etched upon their faces as Gawain gingerly dismounted.

  “Fetch the litter!” Tyrane commanded quietly, fearing lest he waken the elfin queen.

  “My lady is awake, Captain.” Gawain croaked, “But stricken. She… she cannot see…”

  The horror on all their faces was plain to see, the Callodon captain’s most of all. “My lord,” he began, “My lord I passed your lady the letter, from your hand to mine, mine to hers and no other…she insisted on going up, my lord…”

  The litter was brought, and Gawain laid Elayeen upon it. At once the whitesleeves was by Elayeen’s side, eyes flitting here and there, checking for visible wounds and gently easing Gawain aside.”

  “I do not think there are broken bones… except perhaps her left hand…” Gawain muttered.

  “Take the lady to large room at the inn, at once, and keep the litter on the level!” the whitesleeves softly commanded, and Elayeen was borne away.

  “Eyem arrak, Eyem oonscammed!” Allazar called, seemingly quite irritated while the battlefield healer turned the wizard’s head, the better to see the cut which had closed his left eye.

  “He struck his head,” Gawain announced feebly. “And since then has spoken only in this strange tongue. I think it is the language of wizards, I… I do not know.”

  “My lord,” Tyrane gasped, “What occurred? What happened up there?”

  Gawain, his face gaunt and haunted, stared into the captain’s dark eyes, and heard himself saying as if from afar: “We were attacked, Captain. By a dark wizard on a winged beast, Morloch’s servant. We prevailed.”

  There were sharp intakes of breath all around, and then th
e whitesleeves ordered Allazar be taken to the inn at once, and ran ahead, clearly judging Elayeen to be the patient most in need of his attentions.

  Tyrane noted the shock lurking deep within Gawain’s eyes, and after issuing a few curt orders to his men in respect of the horses and dismissing them about their duties, gently took the younger man’s elbow and began guiding him towards the inn.

  “This way, my lord. You need rest. Your lady is in good hands, Healer Turlock is perhaps the finest of the guards’ whitesleeves in the King’s service. There’s nothing more you can do now but rest and recover your strength.”

  “The horses…”

  “Are well tended. Come.”

  And Gawain allowed the captain to steer him gently towards the inn.

  He ate without appetite, drank without thirst, and tasted neither the food nor the ale placed before him. From time to time Gawain heard Allazar call out in that now-familiar but alien tongue from behind the closed door of the room the wizard had occupied before ascending the Pass to Raheen. From time to time the whitesleeves emerged from one door, presumably the ‘large room’ wherein Elayeen lay unseen, strode quickly to Allazar’s room and entered, shutting the door firmly behind him. Gawain could do nothing but sit.

  “There has been no word from the north.” Tyrane said softly. “Not since your lady arrived. No sooner had she dismounted than I presented myself, and your compliments, and your letter to her. She was very gracious, and anxious to hear news of you and the wizard, and tore open the letter immediately. I reassured her that you were both well, and had already ascended the pass, leaving before dawn.”

  Gawain heard the words, and in his mind’s eye could see Elayeen and her escort arriving at the outpost exactly as Tyrane described. She had told Gawain as much, that night in the alcove when they’d simply held each other close, speaking softly so as not to wake Allazar.

  “But your lady’s expression became firm, and she ordered a fresh horse be readied from the stables, and water and food packed. I did my best, my lord, but in the face of such resolve and the absence of any authority… there was nothing I could do to stop her.”