Ravenshade

by C S Marks

  The Ulca paid no further attention to his fellows. He turned and moved to the Tower as though in a trance, his footsteps slow but deliberate, a faint smile on his twisted face. Once there, he was admitted without incident. Wrothgar knew why he had come.

  Soon he stood inside the same polished, black chamber wherein Gorgon Elfhunter had first received his mirror, and the same fires burned gently in the center of it. Wrothgar was here, though the Ulca could not see him. The voice of Kotos came then through his lips unbidden. “Great Lord, I have come to serve. What is Thy Will?”

  And the voice of Wrothgar answered. Yea, Kotos, old friend and most faithful servant, the time has come for a great journey. At the end of it lies power unimaginable, but all thy strength will be needed. Dost thou still have thy powers of beguiling?

  The Ulca threw his head back and laughed then, even as he approached the fire. He first removed the precious amulet from around his neck and cast it aside. Then he strode to the lip of the fiery center and threw himself in without hesitation. As the spirit of Kotos left him, the Ulca screamed in pain and confusion, not having the slightest notion of why he was now falling to his death in a nearly bottomless chasm of fire. He could hear the roaring flames and his own wailing, but he could also hear the laughter of the two most evil beings in Alterra, their energies combining and swirling together in the dark chamber above him, reveling in their dark and wonderful plan.

  Gaelen Taldin, Elf of the Greatwood Realm, stood alone beneath the desert stars, appearing small and slight before the great stone that had been set to mark what she had termed the “Grave of the Faithful.” It was a monument to the fallen horses on both sides of the battle, who had given their lives in the service of others, for they had not been given the choice of whether to fight. The carcasses had been burned in this place, piled high and set aflame, the smoke billowing all the way to heaven. Finan’s had been among them. Gaelen reached out to the stone, which had been inscribed with words she had written.

  Here lie the ashes of the faithful.

  They served without question, and died therefore with honor.

  Green grass and sweet water be theirs for all days.

  Artisans had carved a likeness of a beautiful horse’s head, but it did not cheer Gaelen as she gazed now into the dead stone eye. She traced the carved words with her slender fingers, and then laid her palm flat against the cool, grey surface. Then she began to sing:

  Mahogany and ebony

  Dark flag raised to the wind,

  Mane of spun smoke shades my eyes

  Why did you have to end?

  Wind-drinker, spurner of the earth

  Ever-loyal friend,

  Through lands of fire we moved as one

  Why did you have to end?

  My faith in you was steadfast

  Your worth was plain to see

  My love for you was strong and deep

  As was your faith in me.

  Our time together dwindled

  Like the fire in your eye

  When the dragon-fire was kindled

  Why did you have to die?

  Now my wings have left me

  And I can no longer fly

  Though I may ride, my heart is dark

  Why did you have to die?

  You were always there to hear me

  When my troubles I would share,

  When I travel to the Far Shores

  I hope to find you there.

  Upon that day my heart will soar

  And I shall fly again

  As we ride together, you and I

  Beyond the World's End.

  When the song ended, she blinked back tears, though she knew she did not need to hide her feelings from Finan. “My friend, I trust you are resting and enjoying your reward. I miss you terribly, every day.” She swallowed hard. “I suppose I shall now need to find another mount, for Siva is in foal. I don’t know whether the offspring she carries is yours, but I pray each day that it is so. I will come and tell you when I am certain.”

  She backed away from the stone for a moment, unsure of how to say what was in her heart. At last, she closed her eyes and whispered, as much to herself as to Finan. “There will never be another to replace you. I shall be forever diminished without you. I will not truly give my heart to another mount. I shall come back and speak to you upon another time.”

  She turned then and left the stone, pausing only once to look back in the hopes that she would see a vision of her beloved Finan or hear his voice again, but she was denied, hearing only the wind upon the sand.

  Lady Ordath, daughter of Shandor the Asarla and Liathwyn of the Èolar, had sensed disquiet in the air for some time now. A feeling had taken hold…something stirring in the hard lands to the north. She had heard the wind lamenting and the rain clouds sighing, as if they would warn of some threatening darkness. They had borne silent witness to the emergence and flight of Kotos, and they spoke to Ordath, for the winds and waters were a part of her dominion. Was this feeling true? If so, what was the meaning of it?

  She found herself longing to gaze into the Stone of Léir, to commune with her beloved father, Shandor, and gain enlightenment from him. Taken with a great melancholy, she sought refuge below the bright gardens of Mountain-home, making her way to a deep, cool chamber of stone. Within it, Shandor’s body lay un-withered in a tomb of clear, crystal glass. An Èolarin lamp blazed bright blue as the torchlight reached it, but though the light that it gave was welcome, it was cold and without life.

  Ordath approached the body of her father, which lay as he had left it, serene and peaceful upon first glance. Only when one looked into the frozen, crystal-blue eyes could the torment be clearly seen.

  Tall and well-made, Shandor had lost none of his condition through these long, long years. His hair was of silver, as with many of the Asari, and it lay like a gleaming river, long and silken, about his finely-chiseled face and powerful shoulders. There was strength in every aspect of his physical being, but it was bereft of spirit, useless and unmoving. Tears came to Ordath, as they always did when she beheld him, for she loved him dearly and would have seen him restored. She also knew this would not be, for he had chosen to inhabit the Stone of Léir that he might live forever in his memories.

  “Tell me the meaning of this foreboding,” she whispered, knowing that no response would be forthcoming. “Please, father…I need counsel. I need the aid of those who see what I cannot. If darkness is stirring, if the Deceiver is abroad again, our people must be ready. Are my fears real, or no? Tell me what I must do.”

  Shandor, of course, did not answer, for he was not there. His spirit was far away on the Isle of Tal-sithian under the watchful eye of Lady Arialde, his kin. The mantle had fallen onto Lady Ordath, and there would be none to lift the burden from her, no matter how fervently she wished for it.

  Chapter 3

  THE CHALLENGE OF LORD KOTOS

  Wrothgar appointed his finest Ulcan guardsman to serve as host for Lord Kotos’ journey. Fairly tall, straight-legged and strong, he held more courage than most. The strength would be needed, but courage would not matter, as Kotos ruled the actions and the spirit of his host, who would, if so commanded, throw himself into fire as the last had done.

  Ulcas made excellent hosts, as they were not afflicted with the tendency to act independently, and were easily led. This one stood with the amulet in his hand as Kotos entered him, encountering no resistance.

  Once there, Kotos commanded the Ulca to place the amulet around his neck, whereupon a most wondrous thing happened. The guardsman transformed, his shape shifting into that of a tall, strong man. He appeared to have hair on his head and face, something which no Ulca has, and his gaze was no longer threatening or malicious. Kotos, who directed the transformation, did not wish for his host to attract attention, and so the “man” appeared dressed in plain clothing, as a wayfarer of no great significance.

  The amulet had served well for years uncounted. Originally crafted by Léiras for the p
urpose of allowing the High King’s chosen emissary to infiltrate enemy lands of without suspicion, the amulet was later improved by Dardis of the Èolar, who, as with all his folk, could not resist endowing it with greater power simply because it was within his ability to do so. Dardis eventually learned to restrain his desires, and he gained enough wisdom to know that his talents should not be toyed with, but by then it was too late.

  In the absence of a living host, Kotos would place his own spirit within the amulet, which had been completely corrupted by him. At first the amulet would serve only those loyal to the High King, but over time Kotos had beguiled it, as he did all things that possessed any spirit of their own. It was his great gift.

  The amulet was beautiful, at first glance rather plain until one looked closely, whereupon the intricacy of the golden medallion surrounding the central stone could be seen. The stone, a deep golden topaz, faceted and brilliant, was nearly as hard as adamant. The golden setting was not marred despite its age, and the golden chain would not break. It had traveled the western and northern regions of Alterra for ages now.

  Kotos had worn it always. It had allowed him to alter his appearance as he desired, which was of great benefit, for he could not assume a fair semblance without it. In reality he had been frightful to behold.

  Since the Third Battle, Kotos could no longer take physical form. He had thought to destroy the northern realm of Tuathas, but the northmen had overcome his dark legions, trapping Kotos and rending his body into small pieces. But his immortal spirit, though defeated, could not be overcome. It fled with the remnants of his army, carried within the great golden jewel in the heart of the amulet.

  One of his captains bore the amulet, but he soon fell to the cold and lack of food, and the amulet had been lost, covered with snow and ice for many years. The spirit of Kotos remained within, for he would not be separated from his most precious possession.

  At last Kotos had sensed the approach of a suitable carrier. A mountain-troll drew near, and Kotos revealed the amulet, using his power to melt away the covering of snow and ice. It is well known that trolls cannot resist the lure of golden things, and this one was no different. It picked up the amulet as intended, and Kotos then directed it to the ruins of Tal-elathas, for it was there that the forces of Darkness were strongest. In that forlorn place Kotos made his home, directing the evil creatures that dwelled there to build his new fortress, willing them into his service. Any that resisted were tormented and then slain as an example to those that remained, and soon Kotos had surrounded himself with a company of submissive, if not truly loyal, followers. As Kotos’ strength increased, the larger and more formidable this company became, as nothing attracts evil as surely as the promise of power.

  Now Kotos had important work to do. Lord Wrothgar had charged him with the task of locating Gorgon Elfhunter, and of convincing him to become the physical instrument by which a carefully orchestrated plan would be achieved. This plan, if successful, would ultimately result in the downfall of the servants of the Light in Alterra, but it was a complex plan, with many twists and turns that could so easily come undone. Kotos would need all of his powers of persuasion—even the first task, that of convincing Gorgon Elfhunter to serve, would be daunting enough.

  Then there was the matter of Gaelen Taldin, the Wood-elf who had faced Gorgon at the edge of the Void. Kotos would try to avoid her, for she would surely see through a mere physical disguise. It was his belief that if he controlled Gorgon, Gaelen would not know him. If not, if she knew Gorgon despite all efforts, Kotos would slay her at once. After all, he had slain many Elves in his very long life. Gentle Dardis, the greatest creative light of the Èolar, had been taken easily, his wide eyes filled with astonishment and disbelief that his friend Kotos would ever betray him so. It had been easy to throttle the life from him, and this She-elf was surely much smaller and weaker.

  Had Gorgon borne witness to these thoughts, he would surely have seen the folly in them, for though it was true that Gaelen was both smaller and weaker, Dardis had not her wary nature, nor her insight, nor her accursed determination.

  Kotos had been directed to complete the southward journey as soon as possible, for Lord Wrothgar knew that Gorgon would be most easily taken into the plan before he truly found his feet again. There was always a risk that his enemies might find the Elfhunter and slay him before he could be of service, though that risk was small. Therefore, the hosts that bore Kotos’ dark spirit would be driven with little rest, and there could be no mistakes. It was not beyond possibility that the trail would be lost, the host dying in some forsaken area of the Ravi-shan, and Kotos might then be adrift for years without a suitable host. Wrothgar would not be at all pleased should that happen. Even Kotos feared Lord Wrothgar.

  As the Man-Ulca went forth from the Tower, Kotos soothed his fears at venturing alone into the wild. You will be known as Aleck, the blacksmith. You’ll be most convincing, for I am a fine worker of metals, oh, yes indeed! We will have no trouble.

  In the person of Aleck, Kotos made his way to Dûn Bennas, traveling by night, there to place himself briefly in the service of the King and pick up a new host, preferably a man, who would be much better suited to the southern journey.

  The next host was a good man, Vartan by name, who was possessed of an unfortunate gambling problem and, therefore, a great deal of debt. Kotos, in the person of “Aleck,” waited for Vartan as he returned home late at night, and spoke to him as he passed by.

  “Vartan, man of the King’s guard, would you absolve your debt this night?”

  Vartan was suspicious, and a little alarmed. “How know you of any debt? Show yourself, that you may explain this bold question.”

  Kotos stepped into the torchlight. “I am Aleck, master metal-smith, temporarily in the King’s service. I ask you the question once more…will you absolve your debt? It matters not how I know of it, but I bear a gift that will lift this burden from you if you will only accept it. Behold! Here is a trinket worth a Queen’s dowry.” He stepped closer, so that Vartan could see the amulet around his neck.

  It was obviously of great value, and Vartan desired it more than anything. Yet he was still unwilling to trust Aleck.

  “Are you saying you would give that golden thing that I might be released from debt? Why, in the name of heaven, should you do so?”

  “Because I was once as you are now. I could not keep from wagering, and I nearly lost all happiness as a result. The kindness of a stranger saved me, and I save you now, to pay my debt to him.” As Kotos sent forth these words, they nearly sickened him. The thought of sacrificing for the sake of another was a repugnant notion, but he knew that it made for a most convincing lie.

  Vartan hesitated for a moment longer, and then extended his hand. It would be such a relief to be free of his burden. “Prove yourself, then, and give me the trinket. I will accept your aid, and will promise to free another man from the same burden, should I ever encounter one.” The golden light of the stone flickered in the darkness of Vartan’s eyes as he reached for it. Aleck did not move, but bowed his head as though inviting Vartan to remove the amulet.

  The moment it left the Aleck’s neck, two things came to pass. The spirit of Kotos flooded into Vartan, overpowering him, and Aleck plunged a blade deep into his own vitals, obeying Kotos’ final command. Vartan then found himself in a near-swoon, staring in confusion at a hideous, dying Ulca that had suddenly appeared before him. The Ulca’s frightened eyes darted this way and that, and a moan of pain and utter bewilderment came forth as his life left him. He sagged down onto the cobbled walkway, his dark blood mingling with the rain that had begun to fall, as Kotos, now in the person of Vartan, smiled in the dark.

  After dragging the Ulca into the shadows, concealing the body in a place that would not be discovered for several days, Vartan went back to his own dwelling and gathered provisions. Thankfully, he had no family to come searching for him. Vartan would be leaving at dawn’s first light, and by the time anyone missed Ale
ck, Kotos was well on his way again. The dead Ulca that was eventually found in the City both puzzled and dismayed the people, but it was a mystery that would remain unsolved.

  The sun had not yet risen and the pale moon still held sway over the desert lands when the harness-bells of the trader’s caravan first were heard. The edges of the sands were pale, like the moon, with a sort of weird, bluish light. The ever-present moan of the wind served as a mournful counterpart to the tinkling bells; some were high and silvery, like water flowing from a spring, while others held deeper, coppery tones more reminiscent of the sound of stones being cast into a deep well.

  Kotos had driven Vartan deep into the desert, and they had run out of water nearly two days ago. Now water was all Vartan could think of, for he was dying of thirst. Still, Kotos reassured him, and he shivered in the chill night air, drew his cloak about him, and waited patiently. Soon he was rewarded with the sight of many horses and several dromadin moving steadily on a course to the southeast. There is our salvation, said Kotos. Call to them, and make certain they see you.

  Vartan struggled to his feet and hailed them with what was nearly his last strength, calling out in a voice cracked by thirst, waving both hands in the air. To his relief, the leader of the caravan turned toward him—he had been seen.

  The horses were tied head-to-tail; apparently the trader was a horse-merchant. He rode slowly and deliberately forward to stand before Vartan, looking down upon him with disdain.