by GJ Kelly
“Eight miles,” Martan gasped, wide-eyed, and then sipped his ale. “Poke me in the eye. Eight miles.”
“We were lucky,” Gawain announced again.
“I dunno, Serre, I dunno, if’n you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”
“I don’t mind, Martan.”
“See, them daft buggers of olden times dug too deep, in that number six run. We dug too deep too, else we wouldn’t ‘ave cut into their tunnel. We was lucky it didn’t go then, in summer, after that big wave went knockin’ into the Teeth and back again. It were always goin’ to go, Serre, that number six run, just a matter o’ when. That’s why they left that spike in the hole, too scared to knock it out I reckon. It was always goin’ to go. Ain’t no denying though, we ‘elped it on its way.”
“If I’d launched the two greens earlier,” Gawain whispered. “Bek would still be here, and Hern, and Imzenn, and all the others. If I’d launched the two greens earlier…”
“You couldn’t know, Longsword. You couldn’t know. Don’t torture yourself with ifs and buts. They are nothing but doors you could not see until you'd already walked through the one you chose.”
“And if you had launched the signal earlier, my brother, who is to say the collapse would have occurred as it did?”
“Aye, Serre, lord Rak’s right y’know,” Martan nodded, refilling Gawain’s pot. “We made the workin’s weak all right, me and the boys. But who’s to say that the number six didn’t need the weight of all them Morlochs tromping across it to make the cracks to bring it down? Number six was our ending, and it was deep, roof were thick and not undercut like we made the web. It were always goin’ to go, and we ‘elped it on its way, but where ‘ard rock and pain’s concerned, who’s to say it didn’t need to be tromped on too?”
Gawain nodded, but still felt the pain of loss. He still remembered the agony in Allazar’s voice when Imzenn fell, and the stunned pain of loss in Karn’s voice when Bek was reported fallen. And remembered all of their horror when Hern was brought down, and when the Kraal destroyed the number two grappinbow… So many lives lost. So many farewells. So many names on the cairn.
And there they sat, quietly, listening to Martan telling for Allazar and Rak’s sake about the building of the web, the finding of the ancient surveying tunnels, and of the Morgmetal spike, and of the laying of the fuse and the lighting of it. Until the small barrel of ale was empty, and it was time for Gawain to embrace the old Threlland miner, and with eyes welling, bid him farewell with a promise of good port wine the next time they met.
oOo
2. Reflections
When Martan of Tellek had trudged away down the well-worn path to Rak’s house and beyond to begin his journey home, Gawain sighed a long sigh, and leaned back against the wall of the cabin.
“Here we are again, my friends,” Allazar announced, softly. “Though with a little more comfort than before, when all there was to sit on was that rock, yonder.”
“Aye. It seems like a lifetime ago,” Rak agreed. “And so much has happened, to us all.”
“There’ll be time for catching up,” the wizard smiled. “It will take Morloch a long time to recover from this blow. Longsword may believe he failed to move Morloch’s pieces where he wanted them, but the fact is, Morloch did move them to the right place, in the end.”
“Yes, my brother, you did well. Not even Merrin knew what Martan was up to down there. The secret was well kept, from friend as well as enemy.”
Gawain shook his head. “I doubt I’ll ever believe this victory was my doing. In my heart of hearts, I shall always know that Morloch deceived me. He made me believe his army was small enough to be swallowed entirely by Martan’s web. He made believe there was hope. And down there, before the eyes of all the world, at the edge of no-man’s land, he very nearly destroyed hope, forever, just as he destroyed Raheen. It was serendipity won this battle, not I.”
Allazar shook his head. “Weren’t you listening to Martan? It was you who mined the foundations of the farak gorin, you who placed Morloch’s target, our army, exactly where it was needed for him to aim at, and you who gave the signal to bring down the web.
“Was it serendipity made those miners of old dig their surveying tunnel too deep? Was it serendipity drove the spike in to weaken the tunnel floor and serendipity that left it there? We cannot know how or why all these events took place, but in truth, all of them were connected, and all of them down through the ages conspired to bring about the destruction of Morloch’s army. Yet, but for you, my friend, we would not be here. But for you, the kindred army would have followed Bek and Hern’s plan for harrying the enemy. None would have survived; even I know you cannot harry such a horde with a handful of cavalry.”
“Well, believe what you will, I can find no joy in my heart, even sitting here and with the southlands free from Morloch’s threat once more. I can take none of the credit. I keep thinking of that last dinner we shared together, before we left Ferdan. Captain Hass of The One Thousand taught me so much, but he didn’t tell me how much it would hurt to lose one friend, never mind as many as we did. He didn’t tell me how I’d see their faces in a crowd, hear their voices before sleep, how a word or a gesture would recall them to mind. Of all the lessons I have ever learned, this one has been the hardest.”
“It will take time, Gawain,” Rak sighed. “Time may not heal all wounds, but it does dull the pain of them. And you have your lady, safe here in Tarn once more.”
Mention of Elayeen drew another sigh from Gawain. “She is become much more herself, it’s true. Her vision is fully restored, even her voice is her own. I even heard her and Meeya laughing at little Travak’s antics yesterday. But still she refuses my touch.”
“In truth?” Rak was astonished.
“We are changed, Rak, the three of us, Elayeen, Allazar and I. We are not who we were when we left Tarn for Kings’ Council in the summer.”
“We are none of us who we were before Ferdan in the summer,” Rak soothed.
A glance towards the wizard evinced a nod, and Gawain told Rak of events at the Keep of Raheen, of Sword and Circle, and of the rise of Eldengaze.
At length, the tale told, Rak sighed aloud too.
“Then the tale of blindness inflicted by Salaman Goth was a fabrication, to prevent enemies learning the truth.”
“Yes.”
“You may be certain, my friends, I shall not breathe a word of this. I am honoured, truly, that you have chosen to speak of it to me, but I urge you never to mention it to others. There is already a great deal of suspicion and fear in the lands where all things mystic are concerned, especially since the betrayal of the Hallencloister, and Elvendere. Others might not understand.”
“Yet, the Sight was passed to the one-twelve,” Allazar frowned, “And the Kindred Rangers who now bear it do so openly in service to all lands.”
“Indeed, Serre wizard, but word of the ToorsenViell’s declaration that it was a plague of some kind was clearly heard by all in the remains of the battle-camp. That and the story of Salaman Goth have been combined in the imagination of all who now tell the tales.”
It was Allazar’s turn to be surprised. “In truth?”
“Certainly. During the celebrations this past week I have heard a similar story a dozen or more times; your lady was struck by the dark wizard, and because she destroyed him, the mystic blindness he inflicted upon her was finally overcome, leaving her able to see the darkness and pass the ability like an infection to other elves. They also say that is why the others were expelled from the forest, and your lady sentenced to death by elfwizards every bit as vile and treacherous as the rogues of the D’ith. That is the story they tell, and that should be the story you should all adhere to as well.”
Allazar nodded, thoughtfully. “You’re very wise, lord Rak. Much has happened since the circles in the hall of Raheen were unleashed. Some might even use knowledge of the circles and their repercussions to their advantage, should another attempt at Union be made, or sho
uld the circles again be needed in the future. It would indeed be wisest to allow the popular explanation of events to prevail, perhaps even to make no mention of it at all now that our lady is more herself.”
“She’s not,” Gawain announced, softly. “She is, but… she still refuses to let me touch her. On those nights when I’ve shared our room in Rak’s house with her, I’ve been obliged to sleep on the floor. Eldengaze is still within her. I think it always will be. If I protest, if I reach for her, her eyes seem to snap and she pins me, just to remind me of the changes the circles have wrought upon her. Upon us.”
“Has she offered any explanation?”
“No, Rak. Nothing. Just Don’t touch me, G’wain! Though, in fairness, she has said ‘please’ on several occasions now. I’m hoping that now the celebrations are done, and we can pause for breath and rest, she will at last relent. I commanded the men of Raheen to return to Arrun, and to rebuild their lives anew there. I should like to rebuild mine with Elayeen. Is that too much to ask of those accursed eldenbeards, d’you think?”
There was a long pause.
“What?” Gawain asked.
Allazar shrugged. “There is still the darkness and the horde in the west, Longsword.”
“Let the Dwarfspit Thallanhall worry about them.”
“It’s not the Thallanhall guarding the Jarn Gap and the South-halt of Callodon, it’s General Igorn and his Black and Gold.”
“And Morloch yet lives, brother.”
“Morloch,” Gawain grimaced, staring at the Teeth. “Elayeen told me that the war will never be over while Morloch lives. He is bound beyond the Teeth once more, he can’t cross them to destroy me, and I can’t cross them to destroy him. But I don’t think he’s half the threat he’d like to believe himself, not now. Not unless I’ve been duped again.”
Allazar frowned. “How so?”
“His lake of fermenting aquamire is gone. He needed a minion on a Graken bearing a Jardember to appear to us down there, on his very doorstep. D’you remember the look of surprise on the bastard’s face when he saw our forces? It was genuine surprise, and genuine laughter. It was the first time he’d seen us all.”
“True enough,” Allazar agreed, “I do not think any of us will ever forget that laughter, nor indeed shall any of us forget the fury in your voice when you ordered the Graken brought down.”
Gawain nodded, remembering Niklas and the Thurmount grappinbow crew. “Yet he had a spy in our camp, that ‘spitsucking D’ith Met. Our numbers should have come as no surprise to him. I think he had no part in the battle at all, beyond ordering his minions to muster and attack. I believe the spy in our ranks reported to the dark wizards of that army, and the Condavians and their Eyes likewise. That army was commanded, and poorly, by the four Graken riders, and they seemed to spend most of their time trying to keep their lines ordered. And clearly they didn’t communicate with Morloch very well at all.”
“Alas, Longsword, I am no military man.”
“I know. But they had no real plan, no real strategy. Just attack, and overwhelm by force of numbers. The few ranged weapons they did possess were in their rear lines, and therefore useless except perhaps to keep the Meggen in check; not that those barbarians needed any urging forward.”
“No, indeed.”
“They expected to win with Razorwing and Kraal alone, with the Meggen to mop up any survivors, and then intended simply to advance to the gentler lands. They brought no stores or supplies with them, that’s how confident they were of victory. Morloch as a commander would not have been so… unsophisticated. Not after all the centuries of planning and preparation he’s had. D’you remember, Allazar, what I said when we spoke quietly together, that first night out of Ferdan?”
“Alas, much has happened…”
“I said something like, ‘if Morloch really did have four thousand at his command, we’d have stepped out from the Morrentill and found the black-eyed bastard standing there laughing at us.’”
“Yes, I do recall that now.”
“He had ten thousand, and he wasn’t standing there laughing at us. I was wrong, and about so many things. I told Bek and Karn and the three crowns I wanted Morloch’s armies to unite and face us down there, so we could inflict as much damage as possible upon them. I’ll admit it’s possible that Morloch wanted us down there, all the pitiful forces the south could muster, together, so he could wipe us out in one fell swoop. Just like Brock himself suggested on our first morning in Ferdan.
“But, I don’t think so. With that many Meggen at his command, he could just as easily have marched them along the scree at the foot of the Teeth to the Barak-nor, and then rounded Mallak Spur and taken Threlland and Mornland. And done it while we were still on that Dwarfspit canal. Sarek’s Rangers and Threlland’s home guard would’ve stood no chance against such numbers.”
“Perhaps if he had attempted such manoeuvres, Elvendere might have responded…”
“No, by then they’d already moved their forces to the west. They wouldn’t leave their forest to ride across the plains into the teeth of the Meggen, never mind Kraal and Razorwing, here in the east. Their bows would be of little use against an army dug in here, in the heights of Threlland, or against creatures dark wizard-made, or against thousands of Meggen spread out and running at them in the groves and orchards of Mornland. Morloch knew that the true value of elven bows would be at the farak gorin during his advance from the Teeth, and that’s why he worked so long and so hard to keep elves elvish.”
“Does it matter now, Longsword?”
Gawain nodded. “It might matter a great deal. I think the horde we faced were commanded by the Graken-riding dark wizards, and not by Morloch, which is why he was so surprised to see us and our feeble force. In the Gorian Empire, as Simayen Jaxon told us, it’s dark wizards and their dark-made creatures who rule the provinces now. Their tactics in Goria are as unsophisticated as those we faced down there.
“I think Morloch’s power is now so diminished that he can’t really control events in the far west any more. I’m prepared to admit I may be utterly wrong, just as I was utterly wrong before the Battle of Far-gor. But one thing is certain now. With an eight mile wide canyon between us and the Teeth, any threat these lowlands now face will come from the west.”
“And we can count on no help from Elvendere,” Allazar sighed, and seemed about to say more, but held his tongue.
“What?”
“Longsword?”
“You were going to add something else.”
“I was, but I am uncomfortable broaching the subject.”
“You’ve lived dangerously enough with me in the past, wizard, why break the habit now?”
Allazar sighed. “I was going to say that we can count on no aid from Elvendere, especially since by now they will know that the ToorsenViell and his escort were destroyed.”
“True,” Gawain announced, his manner calm and matter-of-fact. “But since the rites were given and the bodies of those treacherous bastards turned to ash, who in Elvendere is to know it was the ninety-five who destroyed them? Their horses were used to help take the wounded to their homes in the south, and the carriage likewise. If the Thallanhall or Toorseneth sent someone to investigate, they’d find nothing but ash on that blood-soaked battle-field, and who is there to say it wasn’t the dark enemy who killed them?”
Allazar still looked unconvinced, and Rak did his best to allay the wizard’s discomfort.
“You must remember the mood of all those gathered there when that elfwizard uttered such vile insult and calumny against Queen Elayeen, and against all the elves who fought bravely under the banner of the kindred. It may safely be said that the party from the Toorseneth would have met their end just as swiftly by the hand of men, women and dwarves, but for lady Elayeen’s order that we should all stand fast.”
“True,” Allazar sighed, and he did remember the mood of the hundreds gathered behind Elayeen and the ninety-five when A’knox of the ToorsenViell spewed fo
rth his bile. “And but for our lady’s command, that wretched creature may well have ended his days by my hand, too. Yet I cannot forget the sound of that dread voice when she spoke, nor the words she uttered. I do not believe the voice or the words were hers.”
“I agree,” Rak nodded, “And there is so much about Elvendere that we do not know. I do know, from my time there, that all is not well within that forest land. There are powerful forces at work there, only hinted at by that elfwizard’s speech. It may be that the attacks on their western border spared Elvendere from civil war.”
“In truth?” Gawain was stunned. “I know there was something of a furore when I took Elayeen from the Circle of Faranthroth, but I’d thought since Kings’ Council and the sighting of the common threat from Morloch, all such ill-feeling had died down. I thought that was why it was possible for you to persuade Council to move to Shiyanath?”
“At Ferdan, in the summer, we were dealing with Thal-Hak, and the remainder of his entourage. He is both reasonable and intelligent, and sympathetic to the cause of Union. But at Shiyanath, it was a different matter. There was so much more beneath the surface there, my brother. I noted it from the moment that the Thallanhall arrived at Council and began working against Thal-Hak.”
Gawain looked sheepish. “I haven’t read the bound minutes of the Council meetings, Rak. The wizard Mahlek seemed to think they were important, but with the battle looming, I concentrated more on military matters.”
Rak smiled. “And rightly so. In truth, those records would serve only as a commentary on the fencing-match that was Council. It is that which is not recorded which is important; the feelings, emotions, perceptions, suspicions and intuitions, the hidden agendas which shape any council’s progress towards a conclusion. Before the Thallanhall’s arrival at Shiyanath, all was progressing well, better than expected if truth be told.”
