The Longsword Chronicles: Book 05 - Light and Shadow

by GJ Kelly

  “Ah.”

  “Ah? D’you have some understanding that I don’t about this new age she spoke of? Or the duties she clings to?”

  “No. Only that last night before bed I glanced through the pages of my unfinished book, and more unspeakable creations came flooding back to my recall. It occurred to me then that the knowledge of the elders would likely not remain accessible if it were no longer required, in some form or other. I don’t know about this ‘new age’ our lady spoke of, but it doesn’t surprise me to learn that our work isn’t done.”

  “She said she cannot allow me to touch her because she can’t be throth-bound to me again. Her unfinished duty prevents it.”

  Allazar took a sip of water and rubbed his eyes, and then frowned. “I was aware that the throth of elfkind needed closeness to keep both parties in good health, but I was entirely unaware that physical contact might initiate the binding. Elves were elvish for such a long time that the study of such things was considered rather pointless at the Hallencloister. And doubtless will be considered likewise again, it seems.”

  Gawain fidgeted uncomfortably. “You think it possible, then?”

  “You think it otherwise?”

  “I don’t know, Allazar. I suppose I’m worried it might be a ruse, something to deny me or keep me at a distance. I did ask her if she were angry with me, but she said no.”

  “Has something happened to break your trust in your lady’s word, Longsword?”

  Gawain sighed, and shook his head. “I don’t know, truly. Since Morloch made a fool of me, I hardly trust myself now. At Ferdan, I worried that my deed might have been done, that my task was simply to unleash the circles and once done, I was superfluous to the eldenbeards’ requirements. After listening to Elayeen describing the ancient elvish sisterhood and their attempt at weakening the farak gorin so it would fall when the circles were loosed, I couldn’t help but think the same thing again. If the far-gor’s canyon had opened in summer, as E earnestly believes it should have done, then truly, what else would there be left for me to do, which might qualify me to be called ‘the Deed’?”

  “Last time we shared this room was before our adventure in the Barak-nor. You had doubts then, as I recall. You were driven by insights fuelled by strange aquamire, and few if any believed in the existence of a dark army lurking in the barren wastes of the northeast.”

  “I remember.”

  “Chief among your doubts then was the part I was to play in events, and it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that you also doubted your lady, throth-bound as she was to you then. We stood then on the brink of great risk and a dread discovery, and perhaps you were right to have doubts. But today, the nearest brink lies but a short distance to the north and it overlooks a river gorge and canyon impassable to all save birds and the Graken of Tansee. Nothing dread, my friend, lies lurking ‘round the corner of our immediate future; nothing awaits us today more inconvenient than a blustery wind or a chilly downpour of Captain Tyrane’s hard rain.”

  “Says you.”

  “Yes, Longsword, says I. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to allow me some privacy to rise and to dress, perhaps we can continue this conversation in the warmer surrounds of goodman Derrik’s dining room.”

  “I suppose a mug of hot breakfast wine might accompany the frak well enough.”

  “Splendid. In that case, perhaps you’d be kind enough to reserve us a table before the morning rush fills the place.”

  “Bloody cheek,” Gawain mumbled, but picked up the sword and left the wizard’s room.

  They were the first of Derrik’s customers to order breakfast, and while Gawain was indeed content with his own frak, Allazar gleefully ordered a full cooked meal and even asked for an extra egg on the plate. When the breakfast was served, sizzling on a platter, Gawain’s appetite got the better of him and he ordered a round of toast and honey for himself while Allazar tucked in.

  “You know, Allazar, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that with Salaman Goth’s dying breath he cast an immense Tapeworm of Tansee into your innards.”

  “Nyevv’s mmmo fuff finng,” Allazar mumbled, chewing happily and swallowing. “There’s no such thing as a Tapeworm of Tansee, and thank you so much for such unpleasant imagery first thing in the morning.”

  “You’re welcome. But honestly, I’ve never seen anyone put so much food away as you do without consequences, unless it be Brock of Callodon.”

  “We wizards need to keep our strength up, it takes a good deal of energy to Keep Sticks according to the expectations of our crowns. And thank you for obtaining this table near the fire, the place is filling up now and this particular spot has been hotly contested of late.”

  The dining room was indeed beginning to buzz with conversation and bustle as more of the inn’s residents and early regular customers alike took their places. Gawain crunched into a thick slice of crusty loaf which had been toasted traditionally, by fork and fireplace, and chewed contentedly. After washing it down with a draught of hot breakfast wine, he leaned forward.

  “And speaking of the Sticks, where is the shorter one?”

  “Safe, Longsword. It is locked by mystic means in a stout case and sealed likewise in a nook of lord Rak’s cellar. Only he, and now you, know of its location, and I feel confident that neither he nor yourself would be able to find it without a diligent search. I tucked it away there shortly after our arrival here in Tarn. The Traveller’s Rest is hardly the place to leave such an artefact unattended.”

  “Good. And that reminds me, since when has this place gone by that name? I noticed the new sign this morning.”

  “Since we left for Ferdan in the summer, according to goodman Derrik. He named it in honour of you, and the place has become something of an attraction in Threlland, by all accounts. You may not have noticed, but there’s even a brass plate set into the floor in the main room, marking the very spot where that traitor Joyen was despatched. When I mentioned it to our host, he said business has been booming since he changed the name of the place from ‘The Worn Boot.’”

  “The Worn Boot? Was that its name?” Gawain was agog.

  “Indeed,” Allazar smiled, mashing a hunk of bread into the yolks on his plate, “Didn’t you notice the old miner’s footwear hanging by its laces from the pole in the gable when last we were here?”

  “No, I suspect I had other things on my mind at the time.”

  “Well, now that a moment’s peace has finally arrived, you may indulge your mind with matters much less pressing than dark armies and occupy it instead with things infinitely more mundane, such as the names of Threlland’s hostelries and taverns. Perhaps it’s the sudden lack of peril and urgency in all our lives that is making you uneasy.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “We’ve barely stopped for breath since Kings’ Council. Much has happened in the months since then. Now, with all tension released, nerves which were drawn tight as bowstrings find themselves relaxed, and are quite unused to the lack of tension. It will take time for all of us to become accustomed to the new reality of our world.”

  Gawain drizzled honey over another slice of toast, and then shook his head. “When I mentioned time to Elayeen last night, she asked what time I thought we had, saying that Morloch owns the west.”

  “Our lady is doubtless concerned for her homeland, Longsword. Which is something you should keep in mind, I think.”

  “Believe me, wizard, Elvendere is never far from my mind, but not for the gentler reasons you’d have me contemplate. Besides, I don’t think E was worried so much for her friends and family as she was about the Empire and her unspoken duties. She also mentioned the weaknesses at the northern and southern ends of that great forest.”

  “The old Beacon Gap in the north, and the Jarn Gap in south?”

  “Yeff,” Gawain managed, crunching toast smeared with honey.

  Allazar frowned, and then shrugged his shoulders before stabbing a rasher of bacon with a fork. “Well, for now at least, you and she
may spend time alone together. Don’t allow your anger at the Thallanhall to colour your feelings for your lady. Valin and Meeya have already fled to private lodgings to give you and our lady peace, don’t squander it.”

  “I know. It’s just that I don’t know which is the worse; Elayeen at the Inn of The Horse’s Head at Jarn, all Eldengaze and dread, or Elayeen at Rak’s house, all beauty but beyond reach, like that wolf in the tale she told last night.”

  “Mmmff,” Allazar swallowed hastily and stabbed a sausage. “Give it time. Morloch is going nowhere and neither are we.”

  “That’s what I said to Elayeen.”

  “You are very wise, Longsword,” Allazar smiled.

  “That’s not what she said to me.”

  “Ah. She is very wise, too.”

  Gawain sighed, and shook his head sadly. “It’s going to be a long winter, isn’t it.”

  At some point while Gawain and Allazar were at breakfast and afterwards enjoying the warmth of the fire at the Traveller’s Rest, lady Merrin oversaw the preparation of the second guest-room which would relieve the wizard of the inconvenience of lodging at the inn. She also discreetly arranged for a second bed to be made up in the room Gawain and Elayeen shared, or so the young man discovered when he returned to Rak’s house and hung his cloak behind the door in there. Elayeen, he learned, had ventured out soon after breakfast, to seek out Meeya and Valin and examine their new lodgings.

  With Allazar settling in to his new accommodation, and in truth that didn’t take long considering he had fewer possessions to his name than even the King of Raheen, and with Elayeen out visiting her friends, Gawain suddenly found himself at a complete loss. Rak and Merrin were playing with Travak in the living-room, and after the year they’d had, Gawain really didn’t want to disturb the family with his maudlin presence.

  He considered inflicting himself upon the wizard again, but when he caught sight of Allazar’s introspective smile, the First of Raheen sitting in Rak’s study arranging his notebooks before him on the bureau, Gawain decided instead to sit alone and bask in the warmth of the kitchen.

  There were no battles to fight, no frantic journeys to be made, no desperate struggles to challenge brains or brawn, no warriors awaiting his orders, and no lands depending on his leadership for their continued survival. Two weeks ago, almost to the hour, Morloch had appeared before them on the shore of the farak gorin, and the Thurmount grappinbow crew had loosed the first real shot of the Battle of Far-gor. Now Gawain was sitting in the warmth of lady Merrin’s kitchen, a fire crackling in the hearth and a kettle steaming on the range.

  Nothing Captain Hass of the One Thousand had ever said to Gawain back at Raheen could have prepared him for this sudden and alien idleness. Even during the tedious journey along the Canal of Thal-Marrahan, there was movement towards something, a new chain every thirty-three yards, a new perspective on the land around them, an urgency propelling them forward. Now, here, there was just winter, wet and windy, dark and bleak and stretching away before Gawain like a farak gorin of pointlessness. And on the other side of winter? What then? What does the commander of an army do when there is no army to command, no enemy to engage? What does a king do, when he has no kingdom to rule?

  Gawain sighed, listening to the muffled laughter coming from the living-room at the end of the hallway, through the kitchen’s open door. Rak had his family. Allazar had his book. Elayeen had her friends, and whatever strange duty the circles had imposed upon her. Gawain had nothing, save of course for Gwyn, and she was enjoying her well-earned rest. Besides, in his present state of melancholic ennui it would be cruel of Gawain to impose himself on his horse-friend’s mood.

  A sudden hissing from the fire drew his attention. Rain, a few drops finding their way down the chimney into the grate and onto the logs burning there. Gawain watched the patterns swirling in the embers, flames seeming to dance above them…

  He was still sitting there watching the fire an hour later when a smiling lady Merrin swept into the kitchen to begin overseeing preparations for lunch.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you, Traveller?”

  “No,” Gawain smiled at his old name, a name from what felt like a bygone era. “I was just thinking, and remembering. Am I in your way?”

  “Not at all, though you can help me lay the table in a while if you like. With my uncle returned to Castletown on Crownmount, I’ve decided we’ll close up the formal dining-room and eat all our meals in the kitchen, now that winter’s arrived early. It’s much warmer in here.”

  “I remember. You did the same last year, though it seems like a very long time ago now.”

  Merrin paused, and eyed the young man sitting as if hypnotised by the fire in the hearth. White ash coated the logs, flames had died to occasional sprites, and a deep red glow was barely visible in the cracks and crevasses of the burnt wood. Merrin sat at the end of the table, moving quietly.

  “Last year,” she announced softly, “All of us looked forward with dread, and could see little hope for anything save the world’s ending. Now we look forward to peace again; my son once more has a future, life once more is filled with possibilities.

  “But for you, Gawain, it’s different. I think that for you, perhaps, the Battle of Far-gor was an ending. Where we look forward to new beginnings, you look back to the dark days of your life and the end of the great conflict begun when Morloch destroyed your home. For us, the future is bright as the flames of the fire, and warm, and welcome. For you, the future is ashes and embers struggling to survive against the relentless assault of raindrops falling from a cold northern sky.”

  “What will I do?” Gawain whispered, transfixed by the patterns pulsing and flaring in the hearth, and utterly unaware of Allazar sadly and silently watching from the doorway.

  “You will rest,” Merrin said, softly and with great kindness, “And you will be the young man you would have become before Morloch took everything from you. You will become yourself once more, and not what others would have you be, and you and your lady will grow together, slowly perhaps, but you’ll be together again, in time.”

  Gawain, eyes fixed upon the hearth, shook his head, slowly. “I don’t think so, lady Merrin.”

  “Time is all you need, and you have that, now.”

  Again, Gawain shook his head. “How many times did you or Rak try to repair the toy Gwyn’s broken leg, before finally giving up and recognising that it could no more be what once it was? Travak doesn’t mind, he still loves the toy horse, broken leg and all. But it’ll never be the same as it was.”

  oOo

  6. Sanity

  By the middle of November, Gawain was convinced he would go mad. Nights were spent in the small living-room by the fire, mostly in quiet contemplation and listening to Allazar and Rak discussing and describing past events with which one or the other was unfamiliar.

  Alone in their room, Elayeen taking the new and much smaller bed and leaving the larger for Gawain, conversation was strained and stilted, and usually confined to safe topics concerning events of the day. Once, Gawain had seriously asked Elayeen if his wearing gloves might quell her objections to his touching her or holding her hand, but her reply was little more than a terse accusation of childishness and so withering for its brevity he determined never to raise the subject again.

  Days were filled with aimless wandering or listening to tall tales at the inn, loitering in the stables or braving a gale in Arramin’s Cabin before the chill wind and lashing rain drove him back indoors. Once, he even tried reading the bound Minutes of Kings’ Council from Ferdan and Shiyanath, until Rak recognised the desperation Gawain’s attempt represented and rescued him with a suggestion.

  The suggestion was that Gawain ride out to Major Sarek’s new headquarters, the nominal home of Sarek’s Rangers, there to spend a night or two while reviewing the progress that the former Captain of the Tarn Guard had made with Threlland’s new force. The abrupt transformation wrought in the young man by this suggestion was astonish
ing, and even Elayeen seemed stunned by the sudden joy and enthusiasm with which Gawain rushed to their room to fetch cloak, weapons, and backpack.

  With frak a-plenty and wrapped against the driving rain, Gawain called a brief farewell and was out of the house and in the stables saddling Gwyn before anyone of a mind to object could utter a word…

  “Sarek.”

  “My lord!” Major Sarek beamed with genuine delight when Gawain strode in to the fresh-built cabin and heaved the door closed against the gale behind him. “And welcome to the headquarters of the Royal Threlland Rangers, such as it is. The rest of the barracks are shared with the regulars of the Tarn guard, but this humble cabin is more than we had this time last year and it’s our own.”

  Gawain smiled, and shook the rain off his cloak before hanging it on a peg by the door. “I’ve seen worse, and recently too. I’d have visited sooner, but with all the celebrations…”

  Sarek held up a hand, and indicated a chair by the fireplace. “Will you sit and warm yourself, my lord? It’s a good two hours ride from lord Rak’s house, you must be chilled and soaked.”

  “Bah, it’s not that bad outside. I’ve travelled a lot farther in a lot worse. But yes, the chair looks comfortable, as do the stables outside.”

  “We’re well provided for. His Majesty saw to that last year, after events at the Barak-nor. I’m hoping that his support will continue, even though it’s unlikely another enemy will ever find its way across the farak gorin. And especially now, since our numbers have been swollen by a dozen of your Kindred Rangers.”

  “Are they here?”

  “Yes and no. They’re based in the barracks hut to the left of the stables, but all are out with one of our patrols, learning the lie of the land and our ways. Can I get you a hot drink? We’re not exactly as well-appointed as the Traveller’s Rest but we get by. If my sergeant were here I could send him down the road for something stronger, but he’s in Tarn for the weekly supplies.”