by C S Marks
“Too right,” Gaelen put in, her speech indicating that she was still quite tipsy. “We need not fear with such a capable guardian as you. You would let no harm come to us, is that not true?”
“Nelwyn nearly fell to her death, no thanks to you that she didn’t,” growled Estle. “You’re both lucky I was here to pull her back. It’s not really a thing to joke about. When you sober up, you’ll be in quite a different mind, I expect.”
“Ah, no doubt we will,” said Gaelen. “But until then I intend to enjoy the mind I’m in right now.” At this she sent forth another quiet rill of laughter, and then appeared to have fallen asleep. Nelwyn had done the same. Estle called to them and prodded them, to no avail.
“So now I must sit alone with my thoughts and watch over two drunken Elves…whoever would have thought such a thing?” said Estle. She smiled and settled back, enjoying the remainder of the honey-wine, and was soon sound asleep beside her immortal friends.
Galador stood, shadowed and silent, in the lee of the northern battlements, a slight smile on his face. He had borne witness to all of the evening’s events, and though he had not cared much for the sight of Nelwyn dangling from the edge of the wall, he had not interfered. He trusted Estle, but of much greater importance, he trusted Nelwyn. He had seen her performance during the battle, when she had been beleaguered almost without hope, and she had stood strong before the enemy. His heart had swelled with pride in her, and though it pained him to release her from his protection, he now knew that he could relax his vigilance a little. Nelwyn, like her cousin Gaelen, could take care of herself.
The original seven Asari in the West of Alterra were named Baelta the Bright, Léiras the Far-sighted, Cuimir the Beautiful, Duinar the Guide, Arialde the Pure of Heart, Shandor the Guardian, and Kotos the Perceptive. Their gifts were many, but the greatest gifts were given to Shandor and to Kotos, who were said to be the mightiest of the seven. For many long ages they were as brothers, dwelling together in the realm of the Èolar, the most learned and enlightened of the Elves. There they would debate the nature of evil and how it should be dealt with.
Kotos maintained that it was necessary to go out into the lands where evil held sway, therefore to learn more of the Enemy. He believed that the understanding of one’s foe is necessary to recognize and overcome it. Shandor did not agree, and he cautioned Kotos, saying that going into such places would expose the heart to corruption—one could not encounter terrible, all-consuming darkness and not be altered by it. Kotos would not listen, for he was proud and he knew when he was right, and so he would often leave Tal-elathas, venturing forth into lands under the sway of Wrothgar, and there Wrothgar ensnared him.
Kotos held many powerful gifts, but his greatest fascination was with the inner workings of the mind. He became a great healer of those touched with afflictions of the mind, and he could overcome guilt, grief, or madness. He was also incomparable in his ability to read the hearts of others, and to see into their inmost thoughts. This he at first turned into persuasion, but later, as darkness took hold of him, he became not just a persuader but a beguiler, and then a deceiver. Wrothgar had secured a very powerful ally, for Kotos still presented a fair and beneficent face to the world. Even Shandor did not see the darkness shading his soul.
Kotos had been infected by Wrothgar with the lust for power, and he greatly desired the dominion of Tal-elathas. This did not come to pass, for although Tal-elathas was laid in ruin, Shandor drove both Wrothgar and Kotos forth from it. Much time passed ere Wrothgar returned to make his new stronghold amid the dark ruins, bringing Kotos with him. Yet the Third Battle had vanquished them both. Wrothgar had since moved to the Darkmere, where he would remain hidden until his strength was renewed. Kotos’ disembodied spirit had found its way back to Tal-elathas, now known as the Fell-ruin. Wrothgar had promised that, should their plans succeed, Kotos would rule it forever.
Wrothgar would send Kotos, his most persuasive and powerful minion, to unite with Gorgon Elfhunter. That alliance would result in a being that would wield not merely strength of arms, but the power to influence the minds and hearts of others. These skills would be necessary for Wrothgar to achieve his heart’s desire. Gorgon need not even know the details of the plan at first, because Wrothgar would assure him that, should it succeed, the Elfhunter would also attain his heart’s desire. Elves and Men would fall before the Darkness—no Asarla would be able to stop it. But Wrothgar was not a fool, and neither was Lord Kotos. It would take all of their combined powers of deceit to bring about not only the domination of Gorgon Elfhunter, but the unwitting cooperation of Gaelen Taldin.
Wrothgar knew enough of Gaelen to realize how challenging that would be.
Chapter 4
THE BAD FATE OF A GOOD MAN
The innkeeper at the Mumari settlement spoke gently to his new guest. The man’s journey had obviously been quite difficult. “My friend, you’re all in. You need a long rest and a clean bed, and to be made clean yourself. Then I would say you need a meal and a stiff drink! Tell me it is not so.”
The traveler looked into the eyes of the innkeeper, swallowed in a dry throat full of dust, and nodded. “It is so,” he muttered, casting his deep brown eyes downward.
“Tell me, worthy guest, what is your name?”
The traveler looked puzzled for a moment, as if searching for his name.
It’s as if the halls of his mind are empty, thought the innkeeper. He’s had a hard journey, that’s for certain. Then a light seemed to kindle in the traveler’s eyes, as though someone had whispered his name in his ear, reminding him.
“My name is Araman…of…of the Sandstone. Yes, that is who I am. Araman.” His gaze met the innkeeper’s for the first time, and life sparked in his dark eyes as he drew himself up taller. “I have coins, and I can pay for my lodgings. You will please conduct me to my chamber now?”
This last sounded more like a command than a question. The innkeeper, as with most men in his profession, was good-natured and took no offense. He smiled back at Araman. “Of course, my friend. There appears to be some life in you, and that is well. Please follow me.” He led his guest to a clean, well-appointed chamber with a basin of cloudy mineral water for washing and a carafe of clear, filtered water for drinking. There was bread and meat and even some figs. Araman pressed some coins into the man’s hand and then bade him leave.
“Please do not disturb me,” he said. “I do not care for comradeship, and I doubt you will see much of me ere I leave you, but rest assured I will pay for all goods and services rendered. You have my word.” He extended his hand to the innkeeper.
The innkeeper took the hand in a firm grip. There’s something about this man that’s unsettling. He seems ill-at-ease, though his manner of dress and speech indicate that he was born of the desert. His name is strange—it seemed he had to struggle to remember it—I don’t think it’s genuine. He doesn’t appear to be well-versed in local custom, either. He’s ill kept, as if he has not been taking proper care of himself, yet his words come from one obviously well-bred and educated. It’s a puzzle. Perhaps a little more inquiry would be helpful.
“Tell me of yourself, stranger,” said the innkeeper in a warm, congenial tone. True to his profession, he had developed a way of making casual inquiries without seeming off-putting, yet now he received an unusual response.
The stranger’s eyes went cold and hard, and they glittered with a sort of menacing humor. “Ask me no more questions, for I need not answer them,” he said. “And please do not meddle in the affairs of your betters. I shall not be speaking to you again without need. Now leave me in peace.”
The puzzle was now even more unclear. The stranger had transformed from a ragged traveler into some sort of imperious lord before the innkeeper’s eyes. Everything about him was different. No more the worn, weary traveler in need, there was a fire burning inside this man now. The innkeeper was not certain he liked it.
“Of course, of course I will not disturb you. Only let me know if you require anyt
hing, won’t you?”
“My apologies,” said Araman. “I mean no discourtesy, but I would prefer to remain mysterious. I find it prevents a host of problems in life.” He smiled then, looking hard at the innkeeper, who could not hold his gaze.
It was by far the most disturbing smile the innkeeper had ever beheld. He bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him, and he would not speak of his encounter with the stranger to anyone, not even his wife, for something had told him that he must not.
After the innkeeper had gone, Araman washed his face and hands, took a long, refreshing drink of water, and felt life and strength flow back into him. He ate every crumb of food in the room and settled back on his clean, soft bed. He did not sleep at first, for sleep eluded him, and now he rose and crossed to the wash-basin, catching sight of his reflection in the glass. Araman, whose name had once been El-morah, looked back at him, but there was little of El-morah to be seen. The eyes that looked out from the glass were lifeless and cold—the eyes of Lord Kotos. He had secured the perfect host, and now this good man was lost, wandering in search of the memories Kotos had taken from him.
Never before had Mohani so wished for a sister to confide in. It was difficult enough evading the queries of curious customers, as most of them knew El-morah and were accustomed to seeing him behind the counter.
He was one of the most liked and respected men of the settlement, and he had disappeared without warning, without so much as a farewell to his family. At first, Mohani had remained calm, for she trusted her husband and knew that he would not leave without cause, nor would he fail to return to her.
Unless the past has finally caught up with him…
He had gone in the night, arising from their bed as she slept, and had taken nearly all of their gold with him. He had also taken her jewelry. She cursed her lack of perception. Her husband had been putting away provisions for several days, but when asked about it, he shrugged.
“Just in case we should need them, my love.” Then he had smiled at her.
Why had that smile filled her with foreboding? Why had she not seen that something was wrong? This had to do with Radeef, that was certain, but he had gone from the settlement as well. El-morah had always believed in being prepared for any disaster…putting aside provisions was not all that unusual. Where under heaven could he have gone, and why?
As the days turned into weeks, Mohani’s fears grew deeper and colder. She knew that El-morah had once been involved in pursuits that were neither peaceful nor pleasant. He had a shadowed past that he had kept from her, save for those few details that he knew would not bring harm to her. “You must not inquire, my love, for I cannot tell you…I fear the knowledge might bring woe to our household. Please, let’s live our lives from this day forward and not concern ourselves with times past. My life is different now, and I will never forsake it, nor will I ever leave you or the children. This I pledge with all the courage of my heart.”
Mohani knew that these words had not been spoken lightly, and she did not take them so. Now, after weeks with no word of him, she began to fear the worst. Perhaps the past had found him and had called him forth to some dire peril. The children missed him terribly and she was having difficulty concealing her ever-mounting fears from them. The loss of their money had presented a hardship, one El-morah would never have inflicted upon his family. She wept now almost every night, and had to work twice as hard each day. Yet despite her frustration and growing resentment, she would have given nearly anything in the world to behold El-morah’s warm, brown eyes and ready smile, and to hear his gentle voice again.
Elfhunter…Proud Elfhunter…Awaken to My call. To thee I pledge My aid, for a trial awaits you, with glory at the end of it. Awake now, and receive My thoughts.
The voice of Lord Wrothgar filled Gorgon’s anxious mind as he lay in the darkness, lost in a fitful dream. He did not truly awaken, but remained within the dream, though he could see and feel his surroundings. He could hear the voice inside his head. That voice brought both fear and hope to his troubled spirit, for Gorgon had always known that Wrothgar was the true power in the world.
“Yet He is also vengeful,” Gorgon muttered to himself. “He might not have forgotten my disastrous defeat in the Barrens of the Darkmere…though it wasn’t my fault. I suspected a trap, but He insisted on attacking in spite of my doubts. I dare not point out His role in our defeat…one does not say ‘I told you so’ to Lord Wrothgar. Oh, no indeed! Still, He came to my aid when I faced the Vixen at the Edge of Darkness. Surely that would not have been so had Wrothgar desired vengeance upon me, would it?”
Gorgon growled despite his fear, and he smiled slightly, recalling Gaelen’s terror as she beheld the Dark Face of the Shadowmancer. But then he remembered what had come next. “Wrothgar deserted me just when my need was greatest. Ri-Elathan came, and lent his strength of spirit to Gaelen’s. The Lord of Black Flame is surely more powerful than any mere Elf, High King or no…it must have been my own weakness, then, that failed us.” He shuddered, wondering whether that realization had occurred to Lord Wrothgar, when the voice came again.
I say again, Elfhunter, awaken to My thoughts. I bring thee aid in the midst of thy despair. Thou hast suffered a mighty blow to the spirit, but I will make certain that it is healed. I will make thee whole again, and set before thee a task that will bring great satisfaction. Join in this task, and return to My service. Refuse it, and I will abandon thee to a lowly fate.
Even as I was abandoned at the edge of the Void? thought Gorgon, but kept this thought to himself.
He could sense the Dark One probing into his memories, questing for knowledge. “Lord, what knowledge do you seek?” he asked, intrigued despite his fears.
The mirror that I gave to thee was lost, said Wrothgar, and that is unfortunate. Yet it may be recovered and restored to thee upon a time.
“And much good may it then do me,” Gorgon growled in reply. “What else would you ask of me? I am just as glad for the loss of the mirror, as it allowed me to see and feel things that are best not revealed. My life has become more complicated, and my purpose less clear…thoughts turn now in my mind that I cannot vanquish. I’m happy to see the last of the mirror. Though it was a mighty gift, it has brought naught but conflict to my soul.”
Gorgon waited in silence, for he did not know how Wrothgar would react to this sentiment, unaccustomed as He was to the lack of proper gratitude. To Gorgon’s relief, Wrothgar laughed.
Ah, yes…I had forgotten thy nature. A child is never comfortable learning of disquieting matters, yet they must be learned, Elfhunter. It will please thee, then, that I am sending thee aid. There is one who will teach and guide thee. After thy defeat I sense thou art ready. Return to My service, and visit grief and woe upon My enemies. Now, tell Me of thy journey.
Gorgon told of the desert crossing and of the perils he had faced. He told what he knew of the City of Dûn Arian. He also told of the murder of Thorndil, which had precipitated the near-disastrous confrontation with Gaelen.
It is regrettable that thy presence is known to them, Elfhunter. It would have made matters so much easier were it not. Yet there is no remedy and we must go forward. At the end, if all goes as planned, dominion will be Mine, and the doom of the Elves will be thine. Thou wilt know My messenger by the presence of a golden amulet. Pay careful heed, Elfhunter, and do not disappoint Me. I leave thee now to rest and make ready. The night of glory will come soon.
The voice faded as Gorgon awoke from his dream. He rose to his feet and shook himself, his thick skin rustling and creaking like old leather, walked a few small circles in the darkness, and then sat back down upon the flat stone he used as a bed. He stretched his limbs, noting the weakness in them as they protested their way back into life. Wrothgar had been right about one thing—Gorgon was ready to accept help for the second time, as he truly feared Gaelen. He would not face her again without certainty of victory, which would never come as long as he was alone.
He decided
to venture out into the desert night, for he was hungry and growing weaker. Tonight, and each night thereafter, he would feed. He would need his strength in the time to come.
Kotos, in the person of El-morah, had sold off most of Mohani’s jewelry, adding to his reserve so that he could purchase additional provisions for the long, hard journey ahead. He had remained at Mumari long enough to gain news of the Company, and he held a sense that they had gone to the southwest, but truly good maps were scarce, and none would point the way to Dûn Arian.
Wrothgar had gained knowledge of it through Gorgon Elfhunter, and had relayed to Kotos an accounting of Gorgon’s journey, such that some of the features on Araman’s new map now had meaning. The Mountains of Dread, the Great Salt, and the Plains of Dire Thirst, for example, had all been named in the account. Now Lord Kotos would press his host—a good, hard man in his prime—toward the southwest, knowing that the closer he drew to Gorgon, the clearer his path would become.
El-morah had acquired five dromadin, one for riding and four that carried water and other provisions. He would be allowed to come to his senses only at need, for he was desert-wise and possessed valuable survival skills. He was much more adept than Radeef, as well as younger and stronger. El-morah would succeed where Radeef would not, yet Kotos worried that his fine, new host would die alone in the waste, and thereby delay the encounter with Gorgon Elfhunter. That would not be the best way to remain in the good graces of the Shadowmancer. Kotos feared Wrothgar, but he was proud, and knew that he would succeed. After all, was he not also very powerful? Kotos held gifts that Wrothgar did not possess. Because those gifts were absolutely essential to the plan, Kotos knew he had little to fear. Still, his dark spirit was unsettled as he left the comfort of Mumari and headed out across the open desert, looking out through El-morah’s eyes at the vast expanse of sand and dust.
