by GJ Kelly
Even Elayeen’s hair was neater, Meeya had trimmed it far more carefully in good light in the apartment’s bathroom, though it was shorter than ever once the errant tufts had been removed. It was still blotched brown though, the dye fading slowly.
Now, the great good humour that had lingered after the dinner once all had departed to their homes or apartments promptly evaporated, leaving Meeya and Valin scowling.
“It’s absurd, Leeny. We can all go to this Mereton place on the lake. It is closer, and from there we can take a boat downriver to where the men of Raheen have made their home.”
“I agree,” Valin announced, “Leaving you alone is entirely out of the question, miThalin.”
Elayeen shook her head, firmly, but also with sorrow. “Do you remember the day we met Tilly of Fourfields, and the great-horse, Borbo?”
“Of course,” Meeya pouted, “What has that to do with anything?”
“Do you not remember Valdo telling the young girl we were Rangers of the Kindred bound for the village of Sernen, on the coast?”
“Of course.”
“Then you understand why you must go to Harks Hearth and Mereton.”
“No, Leeny, I do not.”
Elayeen sighed. “Because we have told all here that we are Rangers Leeny, Meeya, and Valdo. Rangers whose duty it is to watch for the darkness and give warning. We have told them of the threat posed by Goth-lord, Graken-rider, and the deadly plants seeded in the wilds east of here. What do you suppose they now expect Rangers Leeny, Meeya, and Valdo to do?”
Valin sighed, and closed his eyes.
“Dwarfspit,” Meeya whispered, realising at last. “We are trapped by our own falsehoods again.”
“Yes,” Elayeen agreed. “In claiming to be nothing more than simple Rangers of the Kindred, we must act as simple Rangers would act, and honour our duty. Even if I were to announce myself for who I am, it would make little difference to the expectations of all here, where the two of you are concerned. We are in fact Rangers, sworn to the oath written by G’wain and Allazar.”
“You should come with one of us, then,” Meeya insisted. “You can’t be left alone.”
But Valin shook his head. “Of the three places, Mereton, Harks Hearth, and Dun Meven, this fortress hill is by far the safest.”
“You can’t be sure of that at all, Vali! Besides, Kern is at Harks Hearth…”
“Was at Harks Hearth,” Valin gently corrected his wife. “And if it is as important a place as we are led to believe, it would be an ideal spot for an agent of Toorsencreed. So too a trading post between the borders of Arrun and Callodon, this Mereton on the lake shore. There, all manner of traffic could be watched, and information easily gleaned from travellers in the taverns and inns doubtless to be found there.”
“Anyone would think you wanted to go,” Meeya grumbled.
“That is not true, miheth,” Valin protested.
“Hush,” Elayeen smiled sadly, “You two really are like an old married couple at times.”
“Not so old,” Valin mumbled.
“You have to go. Word has to be carried. Besides, it won’t take you long. Just over a week and you’ll both be back, warning will have been given, and we can then idle our way south and then east along the Sudenstem to find the last Riders of Raheen.”
“I don’t want to go, Leeny. I don’t want to leave you.” Meeya looked almost on the verge of tears.
“I know,” Elayeen’s voice broke a little, “But you must.”
Meeya suddenly sat bolt upright. “We could lend our horses to the men of Callodon! Bede and Finn can ride them, to take the warning!”
“No, we cannot, Meemee. The land to the southeast was seeded with Spikebulbs, and who knows how far the Graken-rider flew to sow his evil crops? Only our eldeneyes can be certain of finding a way through such obstacles. Only your eldeneyes can keep you both safe to deliver the warnings which must be given.”
“Vakin Dwarfspit, Leeny, there must be another way!”
“No,” Elayeen’s voice became firm, regal authority beginning to press to the fore. “It must be done. You and Valin must leave tomorrow. I have already arranged with Dannis for provisions for you both. Now that we are all well-rested, there is no legitimate reason for any further delay. You must go, and I must stay.”
There was a long silence, all of them coming to terms with the inevitable reality that was to be their parting.
“Valin will go to the lake, then,” Meeya announced, sullen and still pouting. “If there’s Spikebulbs and whipweed he can deal with them better than I could.”
Valin’s eyebrows arched. “Thank you, miheth, I’m sure.”
“You have more experience with them than I do.”
“I do?”
“You were the one who poked them with your sword before we came here, remember?”
“One! I poked one with my sword.”
“Well that’s one more than me. I am going to Harks Hearth. If the way is clear, I can be there and back quicker than you will.”
“Mereton, miheth, is closer than Harks Hearth.”
“Not if you have to poke your way through Spikebulbs leading a horse, it isn’t.”
“Oh.”
There was another long pause, each of them staring away into the middle distance.
Elayeen felt her throat tightening, and did her best to quell her emotions, but it was difficult. Memories flashed, most of them filled with happy laughter and the sunshine of long summer days of youth…
“We have travelled far together,” she said softly.
“And failed to maintain the anonymity we sought when we left Tarn, miThalin,” Valin whispered.
She shook her head. “No plan survives contact with the enemy, so G’wain told me. Perhaps it was foolish to expect to avoid all risk and danger on our journey. In avoiding all risk, we were perhaps avoiding life itself, and that can never really be done, save through death. Besides, we have travelled further than the simple journey we have made from Tarn to Dun Meven. We are a long way from the Fountain of Mirith.”
“And cannot go back,” Meeya whispered. “Even if we wanted to.”
“I go back there quite often, Meemee, and have done these past weeks.”
“Stop it, Leeny. When you start talking like this, it sounds like a goodbye. It isn’t. Vali and I will be back before you know it. We know how to travel quickly and keep the horses from becoming exhausted. We’ve learned well enough the lessons from you which you learned from Gawain.”
“We’ve gone our separate ways before, Meemee. I still remember you and Valin leaving Threlland, that first time.”
“So do we. Which is why I said stop it. You kept on about all the times we shared at the fountain or in the gardens then, too. I cried most of the way back to ‘Heth, and the dwarves with us must’ve thought me simple-minded.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Well now you do. It’s enough that we’re together now. Tomorrow isn’t here yet and I’ll need to be able to see to find Harks Hearth, I don’t want my eyeballs full of tears.”
“Nor I. I want you both keeping good watch, in the sky as well as in the ground. The Graken-rider has been busy, protecting the Goth-lord as well as raining seed upon Juria. I don’t want you caught unawares out in the open. Or worse, caught picking your way through a field of Flagellweed. You remember how to destroy them?”
“Yes, cut their heads off, though they’ll grow back again. And don’t use ordinary fire or they’ll spread further. We’ve all read the same pages in the book, Leeny.”
“I know, I’m just worried for you. You will both be alone, too.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”
“I know. You do know what information to pass to Arrun and Callodon?”
“Yes.”
“And try not to become embroiled in other duties. Trouble has found us all along the way from Tarn, and duty has imposed itself upon us no matter how unwilling we might have been. I�
�d prefer it if you would both come back quickly. But if you do see anything dark, you must remember your oath to G’wain…”
“Leeny?”
“Yes?”
“You’re babbling.”
“I know. It is the only way I can think of to keep from blubbering.”
The night passed slowly for all of them.
On the morning of the 6th, both Meeya and Valin agreed that it would be best if they left earlier rather than later in the day. The sooner they left, they said, the sooner they could return. Maps were consulted, plans made, information concerning Harks Hearth and Mereton made known by Dannis, and in no time at all it seemed, the three Rangers of the Kindred stood by two horses, and looked at each other.
Dannis, of course, was there to see them off, with Bede, and Finn would be there at the blockhouse at the top of the only road out of Dun Meven. The elves had made their private farewells in the apartment, after breakfast. This one was a formality, a necessary keeping up of appearances.
Valin turned to Elayeen and Meeya, and touched the emblem of the Kindred on his fresh-laundered tunic. “Vex,” he said, his voice deadpan but his eyes at last betraying his feelings.
“Vex, mihethen,” Meeya returned the salute, to both her husband and Elayeen.
“Vex,” Elayeen said, her voice proud and firm, remembering all the times she had heard, and had said, the one word that perhaps Morloch had come to hate the most.
And then Valin and Meeya were in the saddle, and the horses clopping along the cobbles towards the bunkhouse and the road down into the valley, where husband and wife would go their separate ways. They didn’t look back, which while it might have been as it should be, tore at Elayeen’s heartstrings all the more.
Elayeen’s stomach was in turmoil, butterflies and worms swarming and wriggling as she watched them go. She snapped her eyes briefly to watch the brightness of their lights as they neared the blockhouse, and saw the gingerbread figure of Finn waving a cheery farewell. Then she blinked away the Sight and watched until they disappeared from view, beginning their descent on the steep and zigzagging road.
She was alone, now. With allies, yes, in the friendly hill-fort ‘museum’ of Dun Meven, but alone. Foolish child, she thought she heard a voice on the breezes, This is not your path.
oOo
40. An Invitation
The morning of the 9th of April found Elayeen sitting in the apartment reading and committing to memory Allazar’s book, and desperately attempting to ignore the empty chairs and beds around her. Dannis had sensed her loneliness, and had been splendid, ensuring that she knew he was in the main office of the command post when she was in the apartment, and making certain he was always available should she feel the need for company.
And that was why it came as a great surprise to her when there was a sudden, urgent rapping on the door.
“Come in,” she called.
“Lady Ranger,” Dannis announced, stepping into the room, and again she saw the sterner and more imposing side of the man’s character, “I am sorry to disturb you so soon after your breakfast, but the villagers have reported the finding of strange shoots springing up all over the terraces. I hoped you wouldn’t mind taking a look, and perhaps referring to the book?”
“Of course, Serre Curator, please lead the way.”
Elayeen buckled her sword-belt firmly in place, slung her quiver over her shoulder, and carried her bow easy in her left hand, following the elderly man outside. At the northern end of the village furthest from the portals of the subterranean refuge, she saw what looked to be the entire adult complement of Dun Meven gazing down. They parted a little as Dannis approached, and he led her to the edge overlooking the first of the flat-topped terraces.
The soil, rich and dark, had been turned recently after winter’s rest, ready for planting. But something had already been sown there, countless tiny green shoots sprinkling the great steps cut into the hillside below them.
“It’s the same clear down to the bottom step, Serre Curator,” a voice announced. “Never seen its like.”
Elayeen snapped her eyes, and shuddered, the Sight revealing the heavy dusting of dark grey spots.
“Flagellweed, I suspect,” she announced, “But we cannot be sure until it is grown.”
“There is far too much of it to dig up,” Dannis grimaced, “But we can try?”
“Grows too quick,” another voice announced, “By the time we’ve cleared one step, all them others would be full grown, or near enough. Can’t we wait, and then burn it off, like other weeds?”
“No,” Dannis announced, and explained that the spore-pods of the Flagellweed would burst and spread in the heat of ordinary fire which was, according to Allazar’s book, the only way they could be spread.
“Bugger it then, we got to do our best. Get the spades out, lads and lasses, we got fast diggin’ to do.”
In the hubbub that followed and with the throng dispersing to fetch their tools, Elayeen had a sudden sinking feeling, and with Dannis struggling to keep up, hurried across the village past the blockhouse and to the south side of the road beyond the terraces on which Dun Meven depended for their food. Again she summoned the Sight, and gasped aloud.
“Ranger Leeny?”
“There, beneath the soil, on the incline leading down to the sheds where your defences are stored. Spikebulb of the Tansee.”
“Pox on their filthy black hearts! Quickly, we must take the path up to the watchtower on the summit, we must know if the west is clear! Over there, to the side of the lesser portal, it is shielded from view by the brambleweeds. You go ahead, I shall try to keep up!”
Elayeen, heart hammering, hurried to the portals, found the steps behind the weeds as instructed, and climbed them rapidly. They had been cut and re-cut over the centuries, boards preventing the collapse of the risers and stones on the treads holding back erosion. At the top, she found herself in a copse of trees, the path leading towards the northwest.
She followed it nimbly, moving quickly and silently, hearing the curator’s laboured breathing behind her as the old man reached the top. At the watchtower, a stout and ancient structure, she entered through an archway and took the stairs two at a time, startling a young lad peering over the parapet when she gained the uppermost platform.
“Lady Ranger!” he gasped, a youth of perhaps fifteen years, utterly agog at the sudden and silent appearance of the heavily-armed and dangerous-looking elfin.
“Serre Watchman. Have you seen anything this morning?”
“No… no milady, nothing but the normal!”
Elayeen looked down, but the tops of trees blocked her view of the west-facing slopes of Dun Meven. She swore, taking the youth even further by surprise, and hurried back down the steps. At the bottom, Dannis was hurrying towards the tower, but changed his course when he saw her leave and turn to follow the short path out of the trees.
There, she stopped, and swore again. Flagellweed had been sown on the slopes, its green shoots already two inches tall, growing in clumps and patches where the seed had been loosed from the Graken’s back. She summoned the Sight, noted the darkness, and then turned her attention further afield to the lower hills and plains of Callodon beyond them. Nothing. Dun Meven, it seemed, had been the Graken’s only target.
“What does it mean, Ranger Leeny?” Dannis wheezed up beside her.
“I do not know, Serre Curator,” Elayeen replied, and it was the truth. “Morloch’s spite, or a prelude to an assault, I cannot tell. I do know that by afternoon the only safe way in or out of Dun Meven shall be by the cobbled road.”
“Then it must be spite,” Dannis asserted, breath slowing, “It cannot be an assault. The enemy would itself be impeded by these foul plants!”
“True,” she agreed, frowning. “But nothing the enemy does ever makes sense, except to Morloch, and to the King of Raheen.”
“Alas for us, Ranger Leeny, he is not here.”
“Alas indeed.”
“What must
we do? Should I send word to Callodon, do you think, or does that seem somewhat too strong a reaction?”
Elayeen pondered the question. The Graken-rider had seeded a large tract of land, and had also attacked Juria in a similar fashion, and perhaps Dun Meven was simply another target of convenience.
“I think, Serre Curator, it might be wiser to wait. If Brock has indeed despatched a wizard in this direction we should not have long to wait for his arrival, and the steps may then be cleared for the planting of Dun Meven’s crops. And you only have two birds to carry messages.”
“Yes, yes, lady Ranger, perhaps you are right. In the cold light of a new day this may be seen as nothing more than a terrible inconvenience. If only the book told us how long these foul plants may live, we might simply be able to wait for them to shrivel and die.”
“I am more concerned by the Graken’s ability to approach so close in the night undetected. It could have wreaked all manner of havoc, had it so chosen. We have no idea when seed and spore were sown.”
“The last time it approached, it took great pains to remain at a safe distance from the men’s crossbows. I think it a cowardly creature, that rider on its back, to sow indiscriminate death in so foul a manner, and then flee, unseen.”
Elayeen swung a final gaze over the horizon, from the north all the way to the southwest. “I fear Dun Meven was not built with such an enemy in mind, Serre Curator. Callodon must give greater consideration to the raising of defences against such creatures as those in Allazar’s book, and dark wizards on the wing. Heights are no defence against creatures that can fly.”
They turned, and made their way quickly back to the watchtower.
“Keep good watch up there, Ned,” Dannis shouted, “Good watch, mind! And ring the bell at the first sign of anything but the normal!”
“Aye, Serre Curator!” the lad called down, and went back to leaning on the parapet, staring out to the west.
