by GJ Kelly
“November fades,” Rak announced, drawing his cloak tighter. “It’ll be December by the time you reach Crownmount.”
“That depends on how well the wizard remembers the way. He’s been there before, I haven’t.”
“There are inns along the way, and with the lack of trade this year they’ll doubtless be glad of the custom. If you have no great need for haste, go carefully by the south-westerly route, some of the more southerly paths are tricky and not to be taken without great respect for their dangers.”
At the house, Rak announced that he would have the stables ready Gwyn for the journey, loud enough for lady Merrin and Elayeen to hear and to bring them to the kitchen doorway, and for Allazar to stick his head out of the study.
“Who’s going on a journey?” Allazar asked, wearing a worried expression.
“You are, wizard,” Gawain commanded, and there was no doubt that it was a command. “With me. Pack whatever you need, we’re leaving for Crownmount as soon as you’re ready.”
Allazar blinked. “Crownmount? We’re visiting Eryk so soon?”
“No, we’re visiting Arramin. Bring your books, he might be able to finish copying them while we’re there.”
“At once, Longsword…” the dazed wizard mumbled, and retreated into the study.
“You are leaving, Gawain.” Elayeen stated, and her expression was the same mixture of shock and disbelief he’d last seen in the kitchen two days before.
“Yes. I need some things from the room, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” And with that, he turned to his left, and entered the room they’d shared together. His saddlebags were where he’d left them, and he laid them on the bed to check their contents while the door closed softly behind him.
“You don’t wish me to accompany you.” Elayeen announced, softly.
“No. Arramin specifically requested myself and Allazar, as soon as possible.”
“It is urgent, then?”
Gawain paused, still with his back to her. “In truth, I don’t know. He requested I meet with him at my earliest convenience. Now is convenient enough, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know what to think, G’wain. You left here in a rage, and I haven’t wished to disturb you…”
“I wasn’t in a rage,” Gawain sighed, and, with obvious reluctance, turned to face her. “If I’d been in a rage they’d still be picking pieces of the wizard from the thatch of the stable roof.”
Elayeen stood silently, and turned her gaze to the floor between them, her fingers nervous and hands clasped lightly before her. “Why must you always run away from me, Gawain?”
“I’m not running away from you, Elayeen. I’m answering a call which seems to me to be important.”
She shook her head slightly, and Gawain saw the firelight flickering in the sheen of her hair. “You do it often. It’s why you passed my care to others on the journey to Ferdan. It’s why you took the night’s watch with Captain Tyrane on the canal. At every turn, you flee from me as well as from others, whether it’s to walk alone or stand alone. You even use your duty to your horse as an excuse to be alone. Sometimes I think you’d rather just be alone. Sometimes I think you’d rather be roaming the lands seeking out the Ramoth than here with your friends. Or here with me.”
“And what would you have me do, Elayeen, here in this room with you? Are you seriously expecting me to spend the entire winter three feet away from you, gazing into your eyes and telling you how much I love you?”
“No of course not…”
“On the canal, I took the night’s watch so that I wouldn’t have to be reminded that you were gone. So that I could keep the memory of you shining bright and alive in my heart and in my mind’s eye, even though memories were all I had of you. A statue would’ve held more warmth for me than you did all the way from the Jarn Road to the night-camp in sight of Tarn. In all these weeks gone by, you were Eldengaze, and as welcoming of my presence then as you are now.
“Tell me, Elayeen, how could I possibly have done anything more for your care than I did? On the times when I tried, all I ever had from you was ‘touch me not’. And all I have from you now is the same, but in your own sweet voice, and not that of some long-dead bitchwizard from elder days. And now, now that we have the chance for some peace, still they call you from the depths of whatever crypt lies buried beneath the mulch and loam of millennia.”
Elayeen lifted her eyes, and anger flared in them, embers floating on a sea of sorrow, refusing to be quenched. “I have a duty.”
“So you’ve said,” Gawain said, his voice calm, and cool, and frightening for its apparent indifference. “And now I have one too, to go to Crownmount, there to judge the importance of whatever discovery the wizard Arramin has made deep within the bowels of this land. And yes, perhaps you’re right, perhaps I do regard this unexpected duty of mine as a welcome escape from Tarn, and yes, perhaps even as an escape from you. What more do you expect from me, Elayeen? Tell me, here and now, what do you expect from me?”
She blinked, and at once the embers of her ire were drowned, and her gaze fell once more. “I don’t know. I don’t know G’wain,” her voice quavered, and she suddenly seemed to him once more the blind and terrified girl from the inn at the foot of the Downland Pass. “All I know is that I love you, but that I cannot be throth to you again, not until my duty is done. That’s why I cannot let you touch me… don’t you understand? Not until it’s over, not until then… Our lives cannot be dependent upon each other as they were when we were throth.”
“Because the ghosts of eldenbeards have said so.”
“It was their circles which made it so. The circles changed you, G’wain when you drew the sword so long ago. But for them, we could never have been throth, you are humankind, I am elfkind. But for the circles, we could not have been bound as we were. But for the circles, you would have died when the poisoned bolt struck you long before you came to my care. It was all those days and nights, holding your hand, bathing you, caring for you while you struggled against the poison, which bound me to you. It was the circles that made us possible, G’wain.”
“And the circles that broke us, Elayeen.”
“Yes, though they did so for good reason. Don’t you see, G’wain? We are only the beginning of the story, and our part in it is not yet done. Don’t abandon me now. Please.”
Gawain sighed, and turned to secure the straps on his saddlebags before easing them over his shoulder. “I am not abandoning you, Elayeen. I never have. I just…” He paused and struggled for the words, waiting for her to look up at him. When she did, her eyes wide and damp, he sighed again.
“…I just can’t bear the pain of being this close to you and then being driven away by the three wretched words I know you’ll utter should I so much as attempt to brush your hair from your eyes. I won’t shame you, Elayeen; though the customs of Raheen permit me to take another in such circumstances. I’ll respect your customs for as long as I’m strong enough to do so. But I won’t speak for my eyes, E, they are as free as they ever were to wander where they will.”
Elayeen nodded, and wiped her eyes.
“I must leave. The wizard should be ready by now, and we’ve a long way to go.”
“Try not to be angry with Allazar, he… he loves us both, and holds so much hope for us.”
“Just because I haven’t killed him yet doesn’t give him the right to berate me as he did in sight and hearing of others. He needs to remember who and what I am.”
“We are all still grieving for those we lost, and for all we have endured.”
“True,” Gawain admitted. “You will need to step aside, E, I cannot pass by you to the door without touching you.”
“I love you, G’wain,” Elayeen whispered, her eyes welling as she moved away from the door. “Though, sometimes I do not like you.”
He nodded. “There’ve been times I haven’t liked myself, these past months. Perhaps some time apart will do us both good. I love you too, Elayeen. You are m
y queen.”
Elayeen let out a long and shuddering sigh as he opened the door. “Take care on the journey, G’wain, you won’t have my Sight to watch over you.”
“Thank you, I shall, though I doubt the Sight will be needed. Don’t let down your own guard though, not all traitors can be seen by Eldengaze, as poor Willam discovered.”
There was a brief pause, a moment’s silence while Gawain stood poised on the threshold, neither of them quite sure what to say next. Not since Gawain had taken Elayeen from Faranthroth and Elvendere had they been separated by so much time and distance as they would be now.
“I am ready, your Majesty,” Allazar announced from the hallway near the kitchen.
Gawain nodded, and then, with a final look and a nod for Elayeen, stepped into the hall, and down it, the wizard leading the way towards the back door.
Rak and Merrin were in the kitchen with Travak, to bid them farewell.
“Speed your journey, my brother,” Rak announced, “And your return. And remember, Allazar, don’t attempt the ‘Mountpath if there’s a chance of nightfall before you make the summit, it’s not worth the risk.”
“I’ll remember,” Allazar smiled weakly.
“Farewell then, and take good care of my lady,” Gawain said, adjusting his cloak and the longsword, and shifting the saddlebags from one hand to the other as he did so. “We’ll be back in a few weeks, weather permitting.”
oOo
9. Crownmount
Gwyn seemed a trifle unimpressed at being led from a warm stall and out into the cold of a late November day, in spite of the warm and gaily coloured new blanket beneath her saddle. The journey would be made at a measured pace, not a hasty one, and horses and riders both would appreciate the comfort of such sturdy wrappings as they all wore. Allazar had remained silent from the moment Gawain had led Gwyn across Tarn Square to the inn, where the wizard’s own horse had been readied and was waiting patiently, if sullenly.
Not until they’d clopped along the cobbled road to the southerly outskirts of Tarn did either of the two travellers speak, and it was Gawain who broke the silence.
“Rak recommends the south-westerly route, do you know it?”
“Yes, my lord, I know it far better than the more southerly track that leads towards the Ruttmark.”
“That’s where that fellow Ognorm hails from,” Gawain announced, and he glanced at the wizard riding to his left. Allazar’s use of the formal ‘my lord’ had not escaped Gawain’s attention. “Is it far?”
“Not as the crow flies, perhaps. But there are high hills and peaks to negotiate, so the path is a long and winding one.”
“You’d think that with all their mining skills, the building of tunnels through such obstacles would be second nature to dwarves.”
“No, no, my lord, that would be greatly offensive to the people of Threlland. It’s one thing to dig down and burrow below ground, but to bore a hole clean through a hill or mountain would be to them like shooting a favourite aunt or uncle clean through with a grappinbow. There is no aspect of life in Threlland which demands such haste that a tunnel is needed to shorten a journey above ground.”
“I didn’t know that,” Gawain confessed. “There’s still a great deal I don’t know about the lowlands. I haven’t had much time for learning.”
Allazar nodded, and they began their descent along a road familiar to Gawain, a road which ultimately led to the Mornland river border crossing. They wouldn’t travel its full extent though, and would be bearing westward at a fork some hours ahead.
“The ways and customs of other lands weren’t really a subject for study in Raheen,” Gawain offered, feeling the strain and tension between them and trying to relieve it. “Just as I’m sure the ways and customs of Raheen weren’t given much thought by anyone here in the lowlands. Still aren’t, and aren’t likely to be, not now.”
“No,” Allazar sighed. “I am sorry, my lord. I am sorry for my thoughtlessness, and for my carelessness in raising my voice so publicly. In truth, we have travelled far together, and with my work, and all we have been through of late, I forgot…” The wizard trailed off, and sighed again.
“We are all bereaved, Allazar. Grief, and loss, and the horrors of battle affect us all in different ways. Perhaps Rak is right, and we’re all suffering from these liefhargens he was on about this morning. I still cannot believe how utterly wrong I was about the strength of Morloch’s forces. With that, and the loss of so many good men and women under my banner… I can barely bring myself to trust my own judgement now.”
“Your instincts have served all of us, and all the kindred, remarkably well, my lord. You should not doubt yourself.”
“Easier said than done. And my little speech was the closest to an apology you’re going to get from me, you bloody whitebeard, so stop calling me ‘my lord’. It makes you sound like a real wizard, and that’s really rather disturbing.”
“Ah. My apologies, your Majesty.”
“One lump or two?”
The journey to the inn at the foot of Crownmount took four days, with stopovers at hostelries along the way. The terrain was like nothing Gawain had experienced before, the road undulating and winding around high hills one day and sheer cliffs the next. Mountainous and hilly, Allazar had called it, a landscape formed at the world’s making. It looked to Gawain as though the land hereabouts had been mishandled like a vast sheet of parchment, screwed up into a ball and then hastily and poorly uncrumpled to leave peaks and hills and crevasses scattered about the place seemingly at random.
At this their last stopover in the shadow of Crownmount, Gawain felt distinctly uneasy, and though the strain and tension between himself and the wizard had faded with the passing of many miles, Allazar seemed not to notice the younger man’s discomfort. Or, if he did, perhaps he too recognised the similarity between the cluster of buildings at the foot of Crownmount, and those at the foot of the Downland Pass at Raheen, and had decided not to mention it.
The similarity was indeed striking, for there was only one road winding its spiral track up to the summit of the peak where the crowns of Threlland had dwelt for millennia, though the road which Rak had called the ‘Mountpath was considerably broader than the Downland Pass of Raheen.
“It’s not as high as I imagined from its name,” Gawain muttered while they dined quietly at the inn of The King’s Hammer. “For some reason, I’d imagined Crownmount would be the highest peak in all Threlland.”
“No,” Allazar agreed, stabbing a hunk of spiced mutton with his fork, “It’s actually smaller than those surrounding us, in order that the people in the towns and villages on the higher peaks could see the seat of kingly authority and know all was well. They say that in elder days, dwarves feared rousing slumbering dragons or giants with their digging, and that if any such creatures were disturbed, a beacon could be lit on Crownmount, and loyal subjects would come rushing to the king’s aid.”
Gawain frowned. “Wouldn’t the same be possible if Crownmount were the highest peak?”
“Yes, but apparently it was felt that dwarves could come to the king’s aid quicker if they were running downhill, and not up. Master Arramin will doubtless know more than I on the subject of Threlland’s history.”
Gawain’s eyes narrowed. “Are you making this up as you go along?”
Allazar sniffed haughtily. “Never would I dream of deceiving you thus, Longsword, and I am offended by the suggestion.”
“Really.”
“It’s well known that dwarves are simple folk, and such simple facts as being able to run downhill faster than uphill would not have escaped their consideration. That, and the fact that there is a natural basin of fresh water constantly replenished by rain and snow atop Crownmount, made this particular peak an ideal place for the construction of a castle town.”
“Hmm. How’s the goat?”
Allazar eyed the mutton on his plate and shrugged his shoulders. “Meh.”
“Pity nature didn’t provide a spec
ial breed of Threlland rock-burrowing rabbit to satisfy your unnatural craving for the things.”
“I am not entirely obsessed with rabbits, Longsword, and I enjoy a varied diet as much as the next fellow. As long as the next fellow isn’t you, that is. Our hosts along the way from Tarn are unlikely to grow fat from the living your occasional orders of toasted bread provided.”
Gawain shrugged. “I like frak, and as king, it’s my opinion that counts.”
There was a long pause, while Allazar resumed his assault on the contents of his plate.
“I’m concerned by Arramin’s use of the word ‘concerned’,” Gawain finally admitted. “Coming from him, it seems as worrisome as Brock’s use of the word ‘Urgent’ in the summer.”
“Mmff,” Allazar swallowed a bite, “It’s remarkable that an account from a survivor of that ancient catastrophe should have found its way into the vaults of Threlland at all, much less that one day, along would come Master Arramin seeking it out and then to find it.”
Gawain shrugged, and took another crunching bite of toast, washing it down with a draught of ale. “It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that the eldenbeards planned its discovery all along. Between them and those elfin seers of southern Elvendere I find myself wondering whether this meal wasn’t foreseen millennia ago.”
“I hardly think so, Longsword.”
“No, or they’d have made sure that rabbit was on the menu and the toast was more gold than dark brown. Perhaps Arramin is concerned because the papers he’s unearthed contain a letter addressed to me. Dear Gawain, sorry about all the trouble we’ve put you to, but you’re in for the most splendid feast on June 1st to make up for it, lots of love, Eldenbeards. PS, watch out for snakes on April 3rd and whatever you do, don’t wear a green tunic on the summer solstice this year, it’ll clash with the new shirt Elayeen will give you for your birthday.”
