by GJ Kelly
“My lord, Serre wizard,” Tyrane said quietly, and indicated Arramin, “By your leave, the wizard would like to speak with you concerning the message from our crown.”
“Of course,” Gawain nodded, and indicated the ground before him. Tyrane and Arramin sat, the elderly wizard using his sapling staff to ease himself to the ground.
“My lord,” Arramin began once he was settled, “I have given some thought to the urgency of the message from his Majesty, King Brock. Our good Captain here has told me of your flight across the plains from Ferdan, in Juria, and that the three of Raheen were able to accomplish this journey within a day or two of six weeks?”
“Thereabouts,” Gawain conceded.
Arramin nodded and leaning forward a little over his crossed legs, lowered his voice a little.
“Alas, my lord, while I marvelled at the astonishing feat and wondered what manner of urgent quest demanded it of you all, it suddenly occurred to me that your return journey might be hampered a little?”
Gawain caught the slightest tilt of the old wizard’s head, and flashed a glance at Elayeen, still standing, still swinging her sight slowly from west to north.
“Ah.” Allazar sighed, understanding at once. It was one thing for Elayeen to sit up on a horse trotting comfortably along a well-marked track with others around to guide her horse. It would likely be quite another for her to gallop hard across the plains as they had done during their flight south.
“Quite so,” Arramin remarked, but his old eyes seemed to sparkle, “Yet I believe there may be a way for you to arrive in Elvendere in good time, perhaps even faster than a dash across the plains on horseback.”
“In truth?” Gawain asked, sudden suspicion tickling the hairs on the back of his neck.
“It was while I was considering your earlier haste across the plains to Raheen, and of course that led me to think of your encounter with the dark wizard, this Salaman Goth, and your battle with him. It is a favourite tale among the men-at-arms here and they were glad to share it with us when we joined the caravan bearing the message from his Majesty. However, this in turn brought me to think of the destruction of that beast upon the road, and that, in turn, made me think of Pellarn, the old kingdom, before it was seized by Goria.”
“Pellarn?”
“Yes, my lord. As you know, the forest which lies to the south of Elvendere is, technically, Gorian territory now.”
“Yes, I remember.” Gawain did. The memory was etched deep within him. His arrival at Ferdan, not long after his banishment, and the indolent Jurian guardsman on duty there, the day he met Elayeen for the first time:
"What town is this? I am a traveller, recently out of Callodon, and know not this place."
The guard snorted. "This is Ferdan. You're in Ferdan, fortress town, barracks to the Royal Jurian Foresters of his majesty's army."
"Royal Jurian Foresters?"
"Aye. Hard to believe isn't it, friend traveller recently out of Callodon? Seeing as how most of Juria is flat open plains. But west lies the border with the Gorian empire, which is marked by forestland. And we, the Royal Jurian Foresters, are charged with keeping that part of the border safe. Our glorious mounted cavalry take care of the rest of the border, where there are no trees. Answer your question?"
"After a fashion, Serre, yes it does. I thought the forest in the distance was Elvendere."
"Bits of it is."
"Bits of it?"
"Follow the track that runs past the gates you just came in. It'll take you to the forest. The road then swings due west, straight towards the empire. All the bits of forest south of the road are Jurian territory. All the bits to the north are Elvendere territory."
“Before the Gorian Occupation,” Arramin continued, “The forest to the north of Jarn marked a natural border with Pellarn and the plains of northern Callodon and southern Juria. Since the forest is vast it remained undisputed, neither Callodon nor Pellarn, nor Juria, choosing to press any claim on it, nor indeed did Elvendere to the north of that region. Both Pellarn and Callodon made use of the forest’s resources, unhindered. Nor do I believe I have ever seen any documentary evidence that Goria actually advanced through that forest to the borders of Callodon or Juria, though I know that measures were taken to slow any such advance should it occur.”
Gawain nodded. Elayeen had stepped into one of those ‘measures’ at the border with Juria, and that was how he had found her. It was only after their marriage in Threlland, snuggled in a warm bed on a bleak winter’s night at Rak’s house in Tarn, that she had sleepily confessed to Gawain her carelessness had been his fault; she had stepped into the trap after watching and admiring the tall and handsome man making camp close to the tree line.
“But,” Arramin smiled, “It was not always considered Pellarn’s domain. Indeed, for a greater part of the histories which I have read, it was always considered a part of Elvendom, for it is in those woodlands, my lord, wherein dwelled the Eldenelves of yore, of which we have spoken.”
“How does this help us?”
“It helps you, my lord, because while it may be true that the footprints in the sand of their passing are long since faded, my lord, those of their descendants are not only documented, but survive. It is in those woodlands, my lord Raheen, you will find perhaps the greatest wonder of engineering created by Elfkind, the great water road which runs from Ostinath and its fabled tower of Toorseneth, to the long-abandoned ruin which was once Calhaneth, lost in fire a thousand years ago.”
If the names meant anything to Eldengaze, she gave no sign, not so much as a twitch of her head. Gawain looked instead to Allazar.
“I am sorry, Longsword, I fear I must defer in matters of history to Arramin of the D’ith Sek. My studies are in no wise as comprehensive or as broad-ranging as his. The name ‘Calhaneth’ rings a bell, but I cannot put my finger on why it does.”
Arramin smiled. “The First of Raheen is kind, my lord, though I do agree I have the advantage of a great many years of study. Calhaneth was a stone-built city, one of very few created by Elfkind in which to welcome representatives from the kindred races, built to give a degree of comfort and provide familiar surroundings to all those here in the south, scholars and wizards, who wished to learn from the elves there. It was a centre of learning and of culture, and also gave Elfkind a long reach into the southern world of men.”
“And this water road you spoke of? Whatever it is, it’s hardly likely to have survived a thousand years or more since this fire you mentioned.”
“And yet, my lord, lesser feats of Elfkind still survive, including the Toorseneth itself.”
“My lady told us that this Great Round Tower has lost much of its former glory.”
“And I of course defer to your lady, for I have never seen the Toorseneth save for illustrations in the pages of books.”
“What is this great water road?” Gawain asked, scepticism replacing all his former suspicion.
“It runs arrow-straight, so it is said, from Calhaneth to Ostinath, it carries the waters of Avongard, and it is formally known as the Canal of Thal-Marrahan. If the waters still flow, and I do not doubt that they do, and if the great lifts still function, and I have no reason to believe they will not, you could be in Ostinath in two weeks.”
“Two weeks!” Allazar gaped, astonished.
“And thence to Shiyanath, in perhaps ten days, if your lady’s people permit to you pass via the Threnderrin Way.”
“What is the Threnderrin Way?” Gawain asked quietly, noting that Elayeen had still shown no signs of interest in talk of her homeland.
When Allazar said nothing, Arramin supplied the answer. “It is a broad road, broad enough for twelve horses to ride abreast in comfort. It was called the Spine of Elvendere, long ago. The road runs south to north, from slightly east of Ostinath, which is in the south-western reaches of the great forest, to slightly west of Shiyanath, the winter palace in the northeast. It was constructed to permit the rapid passage of warriors, in whichever dire
ction was needed. Though in truth, again, my lord, I have not seen it save for…”
“The pages of books, yes, I know. It’s been a long time since anyone has who isn’t an elf. Does this road pass through Elvenheth, do you know?”
“No, my lord, that sacred place lies to the east of the Threnderrin Way.”
“You realise, Serre wizard,” Gawain said quietly, “You are telling us our journey to Shiyanath could be made in less than half the time it took us to ride from Ferdan.”
“Yes. Though, my lord, if there are obstacles blocking the canal or if the great lifts no longer function, it may take a little longer.”
“And if my lady’s people bar this great road against us, this Threnderrin Way.”
“We shall pass.” Eldengaze rasped, and Gawain winced. Arramin didn’t so much as bat an eyelid, and Gawain suddenly realised that the old wizard had never known Elayeen before meeting the Eldengaze on the road to Jarn. It was also entirely possible that the old bookworm had never met an elfin before, and took Elayeen’s current state to be perfectly normal for a lady of Elfkind.
“I know, my lord, that you have no reason to trust a wizard of the D’ith Sek, much less an old fool of a one such as I. But I declare, in the sight of the First of Raheen, that all I have spoken is true, and that if the Canal of Thal-Marrahan yet flows, there is no faster way to Shiyanath than I have described.”
“Hmm.” Gawain muttered, and gazed away at the preparations still underway for the evening meal. There was still perhaps an hour of proper daylight left before the dull gloom of late summer’s evening gave way to twilight.
“There is but one small matter, my lord,” Arramin said softly, suddenly looking sheepish and hopeful at the same time.
“Which is?” Gawain scowled, suddenly suspicious again.
“The operation of the great lifts. I have studied all the great works of the later Elven era, and am quite confident I can operate them. And I would very much like to see these works, to touch them, to… to set foot in the places I have known only in my mind’s eye…”
“You wish to come with us?”
“I do, my lord.”
“Dwarfspit. What are these great lifts? Can you not teach Allazar how to work them?”
“Alas, not in the time available, my lord. The great lifts are wonders in and of themselves. Travel upon that great water road is undertaken in long barges propelled, it is said, by wondrous and mystic means. The barges would carry troops, horses, supplies, and were said to be capacious indeed.
“But the lands between Calhaneth and Ostinath rise and fall, and while powerful means can be found to urge water to flow uphill, the difference in levels between the canal on higher ground and on lower was bridged by the great lifts. The barge enters the lift, and when operated, the great mechanism raises or lowers the barge to the next level for onward travelling.”
“Wondrous indeed,” Allazar muttered, looking suitably impressed.
“And not simple to command. The mechanism is simplicity itself, but obtaining all the necessary balances between weight and water, well… we would not have engineers to hand should something fail or become misaligned.”
“Perhaps, Captain, you and the wizard Arramin might give us some time to consider this new information?”
“Of course, my lord,” Tyrane stood, and after helping Arramin to his feet, the two wandered away, talking amongst themselves.
When they were out of earshot, Gawain turned to Allazar.
“What do you think? Have you heard of these things before? This canal, and the Threnderrin Way?”
Allazar frowned and shook his head. “None of these things are in the knowledge passed to me by the circles. But that is perhaps not surprising if you consider that the canal and likely the road too were built long after the elders bound Morloch behind the Teeth and created the circles in Raheen. So much time has passed since then.”
“Dwarfspit. If it’s all true, if we can truly reach Shiyanath in less than four weeks, then this bookish wizard of Callodon is probably the only thing to happen in our favour since Morloch appeared at Ferdan.”
“There is one who would likely know better than he, Longsword.” Allazar said sadly.
“Aye, there is.”
Gawain stood, grazed knees screaming yet again, and in three gentle strides stood behind Elayeen. He hesitated for only a moment, before placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her gently to face him.
Her eyes locked on his chest, no change in the pin-points of her pupils.
“You heard all that the wizard said?” Gawain asked quietly.
She nodded.
“Elayeen, I need to know, is it true? Does this canal exist? Is it passable? And the road, the Threnderrin Way, would your people allow us to pass that way?”
The cold and distant voice of Eldengaze scraped his nerves like a blunt saw. “The Canal of Thal-Marrahan exists. It may be passable. None shall deny us the Threnderrin Way.”
“Why did you not speak of this before? When we left Ferdan?”
Elayeen’s head tilted up a little, but still her dread gaze did not meet his eyes. “There are none who would journey to Calhaneth since its destruction.”
“Why not?”
“There are none who would journey to Calhaneth since its destruction.”
“Dwarfspit and Elve’s blood, Elayeen! Please, miheth, help me! We are called to Shiyanath to lead the coming battle at the Teeth and if this wizard’s route can get us there in half the time then I would take it, but I need to know, I need to know from the one I love the route will get us there as he said it would.”
In his desperation, Gawain cupped Elayeen’s face in his hands and tilted her head up to say “Please, miheth,” a second time.
It was a mistake. Her eyes locked on his, and in his mind, he heard the voice he had given Hurgo the Halfhanded scream. He could not move, he could not breathe, and within moments, all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart.
“The Canal of Thal-Marrahan exists. It may be passable. None shall deny us the Threnderrin Way. There are none who would journey to Calhaneth since its destruction. Take what path you will, Gawain, Son of Davyd, King of Raheen. The Word will give The Deed power and meaning, and The Sight will watch over both.”
She held him, pinned, a few moments more, and then slowly, like the retreat of a glacier, turned away to face the north again.
Gawain felt a hand on his arm and turned to find Allazar standing beside him, shock clear in the wizard’s eyes as he led the younger man away from Eldengaze.
“Are you well, Longsword? Never have I seen a look of horror upon your face as I did then, even in the darkest moments at the Barak-nor.”
Gawain nodded, breathing hard, and dragged his sleeve across his brow. “You heard?”
“I did.”
“I have to make a decision, Allazar. North through to Jarn and then forest of the old kingdom, or northeast and out onto the plains.”
“I cannot help you make this decision, my friend. The knowledge of the elders is hidden and that means it likely knows nothing of all those places Arramin described. All I can tell you is this, a less offensive wizard of the D’ith Sek you will never find, nor a more erudite one in matters of lowland history.”
Gawain nodded, waiting for his breathing to return to normal. “It seems like an age, Allazar, it seems so long ago now that one glance from my lady could rob me of breath. Now one glance is all it takes to rob me of life, or so it feels.”
“It will pass, Longsword. It must pass. Perhaps in Calhaneth and in the domain of Elfkind, it will pass.”
“Let it be so,” Gawain’s voice trembled as he repeated the fervent prayer. “Let it be so.”
After a supper of stew, which Gawain sampled for the sake of the hares he had bagged for the pot, he gave Gwyn another light brushing, more by way of apology and to give himself time to think than because she needed it. Urgent the message from Brock had said. The word sounded very much like the
name of an ill-starred mythical figure of Gawain’s recent acquaintance, a warrior of renown, missing half his left hand.
When he returned to his saddle and bedroll, Allazar stood. Eldengaze was returning from an area of scrubby gorse set aside for the ladies, and was being guided around the cooking area and its mess of pots and pans by Simayen Ameera, the Gorian lady who was with child. It occurred to Gawain that the refugees too had no knowledge of Elfkind before meeting Elayeen at the outpost at the foot of the Downland Pass. He took a deep breath, and nodded towards Tyrane and Arramin.
The captain and wizard strode purposefully to join Gawain and Allazar, arriving just before Elayeen and her guide. Gawain waited a moment, and then as Ameera was turning to leave called softly:
“Lady, would you ask Simayen Jaxon to join us please?”
“Of course,” Ameera smiled, and gave a brief but polite bow before hurrying off.
Gawain eyed those around him, all except Elayeen looking at him expectantly. Jaxon arrived, and noting the apparent seriousness of the meeting, bobbed his head politely too.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Gawain began, “I have made a decision. The three of Raheen must make haste to Shiyanath. There are urgent matters in the far north which demand our attention. We will take the route described to us by the wizard Arramin, making use of the Canal of Thal-Marrahan and then the Threnderrin Way. Serre wizard, your kind offer of assistance along that route is gratefully accepted.”
“Thank you, my lord!” Arramin bowed as low as his crooked back would allow.
“Captain, I couldn’t in all conscience deprive the column of both wizards, not here in the wilds. So, since the route we shall take will apparently have us at our destination considerably quicker than horseback across the plains, I intend to continue on to Jarn with the caravan. The two days or so it will take us to get there will be more than accounted for if the wizard Arramin’s estimates are correct.”
Tyrane smiled broadly. “Yes, my lord.”
“Simayen Jaxon. You have knowledge of the darkness and of Goria which the Kings’ Council in Shiyanath do not possess. I would be very grateful if, once your people are secure and settled at Jarn, you would accompany us on our journey north. It may be dangerous, though, so please consider the request carefully before giving us your answer.”
