King's Last Hope: The Complete Durlindrath Trilogy

by Robert Ryan

  Aurellin, who knew him so well and knew that he had not lost his mind, narrowed her eyes at him.

  “What are you planning?”

  “Listen,” Gilhain said. “This is what we’ll do, and may fortune favor us.”

  9. More than You Seem

  Khamdar stood there. The curse had left his lips, his black heart having given vent to the evil within it, but his arm remained stretched out, and the ragged sleeve that covered it hung like dead ribbons of flesh from a rotting corpse.

  It did not matter. Brand advanced on him, and with him came all the others. A few moments the elùgroth studied them, his shadow-haunted eyes gleaming with hatred.

  “This is not the end,” he whispered.

  Brand made no answer, but continued forward, his steps slow but confident.

  Khamdar did not turn away to flee. By some art beyond Brand’s comprehension he merely became more and more shadowy. In a few moments he was gone, nothing but a shadow flickering amid the fringe of trees marching up toward the hills, if even that.

  “He is gone,” Kareste said, and there was a great weariness in her voice.

  Brand reached out with his thought. He found that the more he tried such things the easier they became. But he discovered no trace of his enemy. Yet he knew that they would meet again, at least once.

  “What now?” Kareste asked.

  Brand sheathed his sword. “For me, I must return to Cardoroth. The staff may be destroyed, but a massive host no doubt still besieges the city.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Kareste said without hesitation. “Though I don’t see what help we can bring to them from without.”

  “We shall see,” he answered. In truth, he did not know either, but he felt that that was where he should go.

  The Halathrin were looking at him, those who still lived, and he bowed to them once more. They were a formal and ceremonious people, and they seemed to appreciate such things.

  “Thank you,” he said simply. “It was nice to meet the fair folk of legend.” He would have said more, but Harlinlanloth had begun to smile, if sadly, at him.

  She returned his bow with a curtsey, but the smile never left her face.

  “So quick to see us off, Brand?”

  “No, my lady, but you and your band have done all that you can do. I had thought that now you would return home and take news to your people of these events.”

  “I have already sent a messenger,” she answered. “As for having done all that we can do, perhaps you’re right. Then again, perhaps not.”

  “I didn’t see anyone leave,” Brand said with a frown.

  She shrugged. “The Halathrin are skilled in such things. But it is of no matter. What does matter is this. We have a grudge against this Khamdar and his brethren, both for our people and also for ourselves. We will come with you, and what we can do – well, we shall see.”

  Brand bowed again. This was more than he expected.

  There was little talk after that. They quickly prepared to leave, holding a ceremony for the dead and interring them in the earth. The bier still burned. Soon it would become coals and then nothing more than ash on the wind.

  They left, and the fire dimmed behind them. Kareste led the way, for she knew Lòrenta and the surrounding lands better than everyone else. Brand followed her, brooding on his thoughts and problems. The Halathrin trailed behind, fanning out but moving in silence.

  Kareste turned to him some while later. “I had not thought they would come,” she said softly.

  “Nor I,” he answered. “But it’s fitting.”

  “How so?”

  “They’ve been wronged,” he said, “and this is their chance to redress that.”

  “Revenge?” she asked. “I hadn’t thought you the type.”

  “No. I’m not. But if you let people walk all over you, you only encourage them, and any others who see it to do the same. Sometimes you have to fight back – not because you want to, but because you must.”

  “It’s a fine line.”

  “So it is, but you’ve just now walked on the right side of it. You destroyed the staff. It could’ve given you great power, and the capacity for revenge against the elugs who long ago wronged you and your family.”

  She looked away. “Perhaps,” she replied at length. “But if I know where that line is, it’s because you showed me.” She paused again. “Truly, you’re more than you seem. You know more than I think about many things, and you guess even more still. And you always have a few surprises up your sleeve. But I’m no longer surprised that Aranloth gave you his staff. Not in the least. And I think that now you have a greater appreciation of what it meant that he did so.”

  It was Brand’s turn to look away. She had struck nearer to the truth than he would have liked, and it reminded him of his problems.

  He was a warrior, perhaps one day a chieftain if he could free his people from their usurper. He wanted nothing else, especially not magic that he did not trust. But now a choice lay before him; to follow his heart’s desire, or to accept a burden of responsibility and power that he did not seek, nor was wise enough to handle, and that in the end would see him weighed down with the cares of the world as was Aranloth. It was no way to live. But could he live with the knowledge that he refused to heed the call of the land, and the people who lived in it?

  He did not answer Kareste, but he felt her eyes on him. She guessed much of what was going through his mind, and as he had left her free to make her choice, thus did she leave him to his. It was strange how quick, and how complete, the reversal of their situations had been. But fate was full of these little twists. Or if not fate, the chances of life.

  But fate, or chance, or design did not matter. They never had to him before. He would forge his own path. At least, as soon as he knew what it should be.

  10. Strife and Mayhem

  Brand and his companions came down from the misty hills of Lòrenta. They were leaving that mysterious land behind them, and many strange things had happened there. Not Brand, nor Kareste, nor the Halathrin would ever be the same again.

  An unusual feeling surfaced in his mind as he rode. Things had changed for him. Some for the better, some for the worse. But most related to the future, and he could not see where that led, for he had two paths before him and did not know which he should choose, if he even had a choice. And it was not in his nature to endure uncertainty or doubt. He must consider, and then decide on his action. Fate could go hang itself. But even as that thought crossed his mind so too came another: maybe for once in his life there was a power outside himself that was greater than his own will.

  The Halathrin kept mostly to themselves. They were a strange people, quick and agile on their feet, keeping up with the pace of the horses. Brand had slowed down several times, but Harlinlanloth had only grinned at him and waved him imperiously on.

  Brand did not quite know what to make of her. At times she seemed like any other young girl, but at other times she showed that she was a leader of people, and that she had an understanding of the world, born of years of living beyond his count, and a maturity that made him seem as a child. It was yet another strange feeling, and he sensed that she reveled in the fact that he did not understand her. In that respect, she was like most young girls that he knew: she enjoyed being a mystery but wanted him to solve it at the same time. Perhaps he would accomplish that. Perhaps he would not. Either way, he liked her.

  The Halathrin travelled silently, almost invisibly, and Brand remembered that the famed Raithlin, the scouts of some of the Camar tribes in ancient days, had learned their arts from such as these.

  “So,” Kareste said, interrupting his thoughts. “What’s your plan? Lead us to Cardoroth and get us killed?”

  She had changed, but not in all ways. Her tongue could still be sharp. But that may have been because she knew he was thinking of the Halathrin girl. Kareste, for all her power, could also act like a young girl when the mood was on her, even if that was seldom.

 
“Hopefully not,” he answered.

  “Then what is it?”

  “I don’t know, but Cardoroth is where I must go. I’ll think of something as we travel.”

  “Humpf!” Her tone was even more dismissive than usual, but he noted that she did not speak of going elsewhere.

  Her question was nonetheless a good one, notwithstanding her ungraciousness. What aid could he bring the city, and his friends, now? But even as he considered that his earlier thoughts of the Raithlin came back to him. They were always few, but as scouts their job was to spy out the situation, report back on enemy movements, and at need sow strife and mayhem among the enemy. He was not a Raithlin, but with the Halathrin beside him, could they not kindle some sort of discord among their opponents?

  It was a thought, it was the beginning of a plan, but it needed more work yet. Much more. He dared not even mention it to Kareste for she would tear it to pieces. And so she should. He must come up with something that she could not tear to pieces, no matter how much she tried. If he could do that, then maybe he was getting somewhere.

  Eventually, they reached the Great North Road. It was empty and void of any sign of recent travel. Brand paused there a while to give the horses rest. He dismounted and Kareste followed suite. He chafed at the delay, but it was best to keep the horses fresh while they could, for it was impossible to say what hard riding might lie ahead.

  One of the Halathrin approached. It was not Harlinlanloth, as usual, but a seemingly young man.

  The warrior reached him, a slight frown on his face. His hair was that strange silver-white that seemed to predominate among his people; he had a slight scar that marred his face and his voice, when he spoke, though melodious in its way seemed rough compared to Harlinlanloth.

  “The land here has changed little,” he said casually. “I’m called Narinon, and I trod this road many times in my youth before the Camar came to dwell near our home in the south.”

  Brand, though he knew he should not have been, was somewhat shocked. This seemingly young man had been alive in a time that was no more than myth and legend to the people of Cardoroth. And there was an edge to his voice as well; it seemed that some of the Halathrin would not have destroyed the staff had the choice been theirs instead of Harlinlanloth’s.

  The warrior did not appear to require any reply to his comment. He carried on, almost, but not quite oblivious to Brand’s surprise.

  “Once, I even walked the mountains of the north, Auren Dennath as we call them. It was a fair land, and the memory of that lingers in my mind. Gladly I would walk there again.”

  “But the Halathrin no longer travel abroad,” Brand said. “They stay in their forest realm and the land, and its people, miss them.”

  Brand knew it sounded like a compliment, but there was a rebuke hidden within it. The Halathrin no longer ventured beyond their borders to help fight elugs. They had not done so since the Elu-Haraken, what most just called the Shadowed Wars. Brand did not really blame them, for they had suffered much, but if this warrior resented the fact that the staff was destroyed to help protect the free peoples of Alithoras, he may as well know that resentment could be a two-edged sword.

  The warrior made no sign that he took offence, yet Brand was sure that he understood exactly what had just been said.

  “What are the mountains like?” Brand asked. Having delivered his rebuke, he wanted to change the subject; and talk of those mountains always stirred him for some reason.

  “Dangerous,” the warrior replied. “A small misstep there could be death, but that is so in many places of the world.”

  Brand did not answer, and the warrior went on. “There are ice flows and chasms and storms wild as anything you have ever seen. The wind howls among the peaks and the caves moan when the snow flies and the sky is dark. But those days are not the only ones. At other times the world is still. Nothing moves over snow so white that it nearly blinds the eye, and the pines, dark green and scented, march away over slope and ridge, through valley and dale, and a man could walk beneath their shadow all the days of his life, however long that be, and not walk the same trail twice.”

  Brand began to feel his blood stir. “And what of summer?”

  The warrior laughed. “Summer is short, but the days are beautiful beyond your comprehension. The daytime sky is bluer than any gem of the earth, and at night the stars shine so bright that you feel that if you climbed a mountain you could reach up and pluck them all from the sky.”

  “And what of the elugs who dwell there?”

  “Yes, there are elugs there, or there were. Rumor is that they still haunt the caves and dark valleys. They are one of the dangers, that is true. But they are not the only one. There are other dark creatures also, but the mountains are vast, and you can walk for day after day without seeing such as they, perhaps even weeks. And at those times, in certain places, and one in particular near the source of the river that flows down to fill Lake Alithorin, there is peace and tranquility such as even we Halathrin cherish, for it is found in few places on earth.”

  Brand did not like this man, but there was a certain passion in his voice when he spoke that was eloquent, a certain something in his words that found an answer in Brand’s heart.

  “Does this place have a name?”

  “Of course. We call it Limloth, which in your tongue would be ‘Still-peace,’ or something similar.”

  “A fair sounding name.”

  “It’s a fair place, fair beyond your imagining – even as Harlinlanloth is forever beyond your grasp. The one is likely too dangerous for you to reach, frail mortal that you are, and the other, the other is too bright for mortal eyes to endure. Her spirit is greater than yours even as the mountains rise above the plains. To try to get too close is to risk falling as from a great height.”

  Brand raised an eyebrow. There it was, the cause of this warrior’s hostility. Now, he realized how things stood. But there was no time for this. Other things needed doing.

  “I’ll think on your words,” he said coolly.

  “That would be wise.”

  Brand looked at this warrior more closely. He was fair, pretty as a girl in many ways, but there was a steel in him, and a confidence too. This was a warrior who feared little, least of all expressing his opinions.

  Time slowed. Brand looked him in the eye, and then he smiled. The warrior did not know what to make of that, but he did not withdraw his gaze.

  There was a commotion behind them, and then one of the Halathrin stepped forward and pointed.

  “Someone comes!” he said.

  They all looked to where the man pointed. South, a long way away down the straight line of the Great North Road, a lone figure walked.

  It was no wonder that the Halathrin had seen him first. They were reputed to have excellent sight, far better than an ordinary man’s, and yet Brand could see the figure also.

  Brand considered the situation. There was nowhere to hide for there were no trees here, and the land was flat and the grass not long. Besides, if they could see the figure, likely enough whoever it was had long since seen them: they were many and there were horses among them.

  “What do you think?” Kareste asked. “If she had heard the warrior’s words of warning to Brand she gave no sign.

  “There’s nowhere to hide,” Brand said, “and perhaps no reason either. He’s only one, be he friend or foe.”

  The warrior with the scar pursed his lips. “Few times is a stranger in a strange land a friend.”

  Brand leaned on Aranloth’s staff. “I haven’t found that to be the case, myself. But I’m not as old as you, nor as wise.”

  The warrior did not answer. However, Brand felt Harlinlanloth’s gaze on him. Her expression was unreadable, but he knew by the very fact that she looked at him, and then shifted her gaze to the warrior, that she guessed exactly what had passed between them. What she thought of it, he could not tell.

  “Travelers are rare these days along the road,” Kareste said, seemingly
oblivious to what was going on. “It could be an elùgroth.”

  “Or it could be anybody,” Brand replied. “We’ll wait and see.”

  Kareste looked at him speculatively. “Trusting to luck, again?”

  He gave her a wink, but did not answer. After a moment she looked away, the lòhren look of inscrutability on her face, and he knew that she also had heard or guessed what had passed between him and the warrior.

  He watched the lone figure approach. He did not think it was an elùgroth, but there were others who sought Shurilgar’s staff. Would they know it was destroyed? Probably those with enough power would sense that it was gone. But then, who was it that came toward them?

  11. Now is Our Chance

  They gathered around and listened as Gilhain spoke of his plan. He talked to them quietly, but nevertheless with excitement. And as he did so, he felt the anticipation of great events quicken his pulse.

  “We’ve defended for a long time,” he said. “Now, the enemy is in disarray. The staff is destroyed, the elùgroths are distraught, and the greatest sorcerer among them all is gone, drawn away from the attack by Brand.” He paused, allowing his words to sink in. “What,” he asked eventually, does all that mean?”

  “Trouble for Brand,” Lornach said with a tight smile, and there was some laughter.

  Even Gilhain saw the humor in that. The men around him, even as he did himself, used humor as a weapon against despair. And a potent weapon it was. Perhaps one of the strongest.

  “And what else?” he asked, when the moment had passed.

  Taingern spoke, quiet and thoughtful as always.

  “The whole host is driven by the elùgroths. If they’re in disarray, the enemy horde, mostly elugs, are in a worse state. It’s the elùgroths who give them all purpose and direction.”

  Gilhain nodded slowly. He could not afford to move quickly here.