The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor

by A. P. Stephens

  * * *

  Through at last! Malander thought as he saw the way finally cleared of Argos soldiers. He had left behind nothing but the bodies of those he had killed. Only one Argos remained in his path. Grime, sweat, and blood covered Malander's face as he called up his inner reserves of strength. Watching from his perch, the Bane of Darnoth raised his ax and took two great steps toward the charging knight. He stood tall, towering a full two feet over the stout Malander. But the size of his enemy was scant concern to Malander, who could think only of how the mutant elf's blood would look spilled onto the ground.

  Gaining the higher ground of a small boulder, Malander leaped through the air, yelling with all his being as his buried fury revealed itself once again. The Bane of Darnoth stood still, awaiting the attack.

  Seeing Malander's bold assault, Helfare shook his head. He yanked his blade from the chest of a dying Argos and let the dying body slump to the ground. Then, wasting not a moment more, he hurried to help his embattled comrade.

  The Bane of Darnoth swung the blunt of his ax blade, knocking Malander out of the air and sending him skidding across the ground many feet away, with shards of small rocks having no mercy to his backside. Undiscouraged, the grim knight returned promptly to continue the fight. Not knowing where to begin, Malander swayed back and forth, taunting his enemy, as each studied the other for a weakness.

  "Eager to die, I see," the Bane of Darnoth laughed. "You should have brought more allies, weak human."

  "You underestimate me," Malander replied.

  "I know now your weakness."

  "Yes, it is known as 'none.'"

  "It is there," the evil general spoke as he brought his blade close to his glowing eyes. "I can feel your anger."

  "Your feelings betray you."

  "Do they? Anger has ruined your soul. You have not embraced your past. Your suppression of anger has made you fragile!"

  "Silence!" Malander rushed in, aiming a strike at his enemy's legs. His weapon hummed through the air but was blocked soundly by the Bane's ax, sending Malander spinning from his own momentum. The Argos leader's powerful downward swing was enough for Malander to realize he should not try such a tactic again.

  * * *

  "Arnanor!" Muron said as his brother began to lose them in the sea of soldiers.

  The elder prince turned around and said, "Do not engage the Argos any longer!"

  "My lord?" Geil asked, confused.

  "We are killing our own kind!"

  "These Argos are our brethren?"

  "I have seen many wearing our kingdom's crest on their armor!"

  "Are you sure?" Muron asked.

  "Do not question me, Muron! I know what I saw."

  "I shall never forgive myself," Geil replied somberly.

  Randor appeared behind the Northern elves and said, "Let it pass, Sir Geil. They are mere vestiges of what they once were. Evil has consumed them for so many decades that what was once pure about them has passed. These turned soldiers are no longer your brothers." Motioning the three forward, he said, "We must keep moving. The Argos begin to flee."

  All of Darnoth's enemies were disengaging from the battle and heading toward their leader, who still waged his own battle with Malander and, now, Helfare. The dark elves of Argos were now slipping past the Bane and fell behind him, vanishing into the open corridor and leaving their leader to stay and fight alone.

  Angered by Helfare's unwanted aid, Malander shoved the general out of his way, knocking him down--and failing to see the latest attack of his foe.

  The Bane of Darnoth drew his weapon behind his head and swung. But Malander, still glaring at Helfare, did not see the blade coming for his neck. The general, seeing the ax bearing down on Malander, reached out, grabbing the knight's ankle and hauling him down to the ground, so that the ax passed over the two and lodged deep in the cavern wall.

  Malander and Helfare stood upright and retreated a few paces, whereupon the much offended Malander began shoving Helfare once more.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Malander shouted, his nostrils flaring.

  "Never touch me thus again!" Helfare replied.

  The cavern shook as the Bane tried to free his blade from the cracking stone. The wall crumbled, and its rocks, combined with the collapsing ceiling, obstructed the path where the Argos had fled. The Bane of Darnoth was severed from his army, much to the delight of Cailen, who finally arrived with her elves.

  "We have him now!" Cailen said with obvious glee.

  "Fall back, Malander," Helfare ordered.

  "I will not!"

  Randor found his way to the front of the Darnoth throng, who all stood readied to attack the Bane on Cailen's command. The wizard stood alongside Cailen, and both looked to Malander, who stood away from the rest, wanting to continue his battle. More rocks slid down onto the barred path, fully containing the retreated Argos. The Bane lifted his ax for the last time and thrust the blade down with all his remaining force, piercing the floor of Eln-Radah. Dust rose in great, billowing whorls, shrouding him from his attackers, and he drew back, so that all that his enemies could see were the glowing red eyes, and then he was gone, leaving only his laughter echoing down the darkened corridor. Though he was detached from his minions, there was no doubt he had gone to seek them out.

  "He is getting away!" Malander shouted in anguish.

  "Not for long," said Cailen. "Follow me, and we will bring him down." The elf-captain sprinted down the corridor with Malander hard at her heels. The two charged off alone.

  "I suppose we have no choice but to follow them," Gildan said.

  "Exactly," Randor replied as he took command over the Darnoth. "We cannot afford to let those two become lost."

  * * *

  Through two miles of dimly lit caverns, Randor led his company and the Darnoth, with still no sign of the Bane or his two pursuers. He moved cautiously, for danger still lingered in the air, and the wizard was all but drained of energy. Along the way, the Darnoth searched for any traces of lebe or water. All were badly in need of replenishment. Randor, for his part, would let no one stop to rest until Cailen and Malander were found. The five advisors of the Darnoth clung near Randor, worried for the well-being of their commanding officer.

  Seth and Lorn kept to the back of the formation, the dwarf not yet recovered from the previous battle. It was the first time Lorn ever fought with a weapon, and he did claim the lives of four Argos in the course of the melee. Now he carried the blooded dirk in his hand and walked with eyes locked forward in a daze. The act of killing another, evil or not, made him feel tainted. "I will never find the answers to why people must fight to survive," he confided to Seth. "The world should have the luxury of living peacefully, like Beowulken."

  "I don't think it ever shall," Seth admitted. "The world will never be rid of this treacherous device. There will always be regimes of those who wish nothing more than for those around them to yield to their grandiose wishes. And there will also be those who will resist and stand for what they feel is right. All that we can do, my friend, is cope--and lift ourselves above it."

  "Once this is over, I am not leaving Beowulken again."

  "Remember that your killing of these enemies is not your fault or your wish. You must defend your life when the occasion demands it. Now, come along; we should join Randor and see what his plan is," Seth said as he quickened his pace. The dwarf nodded and sheathed his blade.

  Soon Randor led the masses to the end of the corridor, where Cailen and Malander stood at the edge of another cliff, looking into the darkness before them. As the captain's advisors rushed to her side, Malander paced like a caged animal, his sword lowered to the ground.

  "Where did the Bane go?" an advisor asked.

  "Somewhere down there, I'll wager," Cailen answered with disappointment.

  "He might have slipped past us in the caverns, for all we know," Randor said. "There is a chance he is already rejoined with his army." Out in the darkness before them, they could hear a fai
nt but constant rushing noise. "Sounds like a river." Randor drew closer to the edge and knelt down with his favored ear outward. "Have you been here before, Cailen?"

  "I have seen many rivers throughout my trails in Eln-Radah, and this place does not speak to me in any way."

  Randor strode over to the still furious Malander. "Where did the Argos leader vanish to?" he asked the knight.

  "If I knew, Randor, I would still be after him, wouldn't I?" Malander looked into the wizard's dark spectacles and then turned around, consumed by the need to continue his battle with the demonic leader of the Argos. "Just leave me alone, would you?"

  "Very well," Randor replied, "but keep your wits about you."

  Cailen took a brief and secretive council with her advisors and asked hurriedly, "How many of our soldiers remain?"

  "We have not an exact number, Captain," answered one.

  "I don't require an exact figure at the moment," Cailen whispered. "All I want right now is a guess."

  "Six hundred, perhaps less."

  "And the Argos?"

  "Perhaps seven hundred or a little more?"

  "I will dignify the last battle as our victory," Cailen said. "We have greatly improved our numbers against the Argos. Now, go and give me an exact calculation of our forces." With this, the five elves melted into the Darnoth ranks to take a count.

  Cailen returned to Randor. Facing all those with her, she said, "Take a short rest here, but stay alert. Set a patrol at the back of the battalion--we will not be ambushed." The Darnoth army came to attention and saluted, with Cailen returning the gesture. "Carry on."

  Fifty of the Darnoth elves remained close by their commander, creating a semicircle for her protection, and the rest of the army spread out over an acre of ground, with a heavier concentration at the back. Randor and his party stayed within Cailen's encirclement and sat by the elf-captain's newly kindled fire.

  The three elves of the North sat close together as usual, inspecting one another for injury. Luckily, none of them had come to any real harm--not even Muron, after his first true experience with battle. Though not injured, he clenched a hand to his side and leaned forward in slight soreness. "My stomach pains me like never before," he said softly. "Some of that lebe would be lovely right about now."

  "We haven't any," Arnanor replied. "And we cannot risk sending anyone out in search of it, either."

  "Do not worry, Master," Geil said, comforting the young prince. "You can hear the river that is near us. We will not go parched for much longer."

  "Yet it is the sound that taunts me," Muron said.

  "The Darnoth are ready to press on," Cailen said with assurance. "We will return to the area of our last encounter with the Argos army. There is nothing for us here; we must deliver the final blow to our enemy before they can regroup." Cailen turned her focus away from Randor and addressed the officers around her. "Be prepared for a vast search in the following days. There are still caverns and tunnels we have not yet ventured through."

  "You haven't seen all of Eln-Radah?" Helfare asked, finding the elf's comments strange.

  "Eln-Radah is one of the greatest labyrinths in Londor's entire belly," Cailen said. "There are many levels even below this one, which stretches far. After a while, they all begin to look alike." She shook her head, thinking back on being held prisoner in this accursed place for the past eighty years. "Our time has come now to be free of Eln-Radah. I have had my fill of life within its impenetrable walls and eternal gloom. It is my duty to the loyal soldiers of Darnoth to bring them into the clean air of the open world above." Cailen looked to Randor. "I will get you and your company out of here. Beldas must be recovered. I must help you and your companions in bringing peace and balance to the world once more. If setting you on the path toward Beldas is the last thing I do, so be it."

  Randor surveyed his companions and could feel their weariness. Their trials in Eln-Radah had been overwhelming. And yet he felt a sense of hope, as if something yet unknown to him might aid his company and the Darnoth in this, the last battle of the Dark War.

  THIS ENDS BOOK I of The White Shadow Saga trilogy

  Epilogue

  Ghelok's eyes flickered open. The castle room spun around him like a tornado of gray stone. He slowly rolled over, grimacing from the wizard's punishing magic, which still burned like coals in his chest.

  Dimly aware of a rhythmic clicking, he focused on the sound and realized it was fast approaching footsteps. With only seconds before the unknown threat should burst in on him, Ghelok scanned the floor around him for his sword, only to find it lodged deeply between the mortared stones of the wall.

  He tried to stand but fell back to the floor, wheezing in pain as the footsteps in his ears grew louder and then abruptly ceased. He was surrounded. Knowing he could do nothing in his present state, Ghelok rolled onto his back and put his hands in the air.

  "Do your worst," he growled at the four shadowy figures surrounding him. "Your fortunes would be none so pleasant were we to meet under other circumstances."

  "Master Ghelok . . . ," one of them said.

  "Who speaks my name?"

  "We are the Of-Adian, who rode out of Valadure with you."

  Ghelok laughed. "A happy turn of events. I thought perhaps the monks or that accursed wizard had returned to finish me off."

  "The area is safe from threat, sir."

  As two of the soldiers helped Ghelok to his feet, another freed his sword from the wall. Ghelok clutched his head and staggered over to retrieve the only worldly possession that mattered to him. Twirling it twice, he nodded his gratitude and sheathed it.

  Leaning against the cold stones, Ghelok pushed back his sweat-drenched hair away from his face. "Where are our enemies?" he said.

  "They fled south," replied the ranking soldier, a sergeant.

  "Why have you returned to my side without them or their heads?"

  "We could no longer follow them."

  "Impossible!" Ghelok snapped. "You are the finest riders in the land--how could they elude you?"

  "We had Helfare and his rabble surrounded in the foothills, but before we could apprehend them, the wizard used his powers to open the side of the mountain, and they escaped within."

  "Then you should have followed them in."

  "It was sealed shut," the sergeant explained. "We did scour the base of the mountain, but their tracks ended at a wall of solid stone."

  "Lord Adian will be displeased," Ghelok said, and the soldiers bowed their heads, knowing it was true. "We must leave this place at once and overtake them."

  Needing no further words of incitement, the soldiers hastened back to the stairway from which Randor and the others had fled the castle. Ghelok followed them down the stairs, keeping a shoulder against the rough stones with every painful step he took. The burning in his chest was starting to fade as he stepped out into the night, where the four soldiers waited in the dim torchlight, already mounted on their steeds.

  With a swipe of his hand, Ghelok sent them back to the search. In time he would join the pursuit, but there was still one last item of business to attend.

  As the men rode off, he noticed something unusual on the ground. Picking up the small, dark lump, he saw that it was a piece of charcoal--undoubtedly one of Lorn's, dropped from his pouch during the escape. Ghelok brought the charcoal to his face and drew four bold lines from below his left eye down his cheek, copying the tattoo of the Of-Adian soldiers. Then, now bearing the mark of what he considered the highest honor and distinction on his pale face, he tucked the charcoal into his jacket pocket and strode to his horse.

  Scanning the dark woods for lurking enemies or spies, he fumbled through one of the saddlebags and took out a small rolled square of blue yarn, and a gold canister. He stepped back from his horse, admiring the strange lettering engraved on the canister, and rolled out the rug on the ground, placing the metal container at the its edge.

  The young warrior dreaded what must follow, knowing this would be the hardest
task of his long journey, but prolonging the ritual would only weigh down his beleaguered spirit. And so, breathing in a deep draught of the cold night air, he took his place on the rug, kneeling before the canister.

  Muttering a soft chant, Ghelok watched as the top of the canister began to glow with a strange blue light. He closed his eyes and sank into a trance as the chant continued to flow from his mouth. The pain from Randor's magical blow left him, replaced by a newfound comfort.

  Speaking the last words of the chant, Ghelok opened his eyes and was greeted by a burst of flames rising from the canister. In the twisting blue tails of fire, an image began to form, and Ghelok lowered his head in respect.

  Within the fire sat a man on an elaborate throne. "Who wishes to speak?" the flame-shrouded image asked.

  "It is I, Ghelok, my lord."

  "Have you captured the traitor?"

  "We have Helfare within our reach and are closing on him."

  "You let him escape."

  "Only momentarily, my lord. We will have him soon enough and will return to Valadure."

  "What marks your face?" the specter asked.

  Ghelok held his silence, and without warning, a tail of the fire shot outward, striking him in the face and flinging him onto his back, seized by an unbearable pain, as if knives were flaying the skin from his face. And yet, he dare not scream or raise his hands in defense, for the punishment would only intensify.

  "You will not place that sacred symbol upon your face unless I order it," the figure said. "Do such a thing again, and the consequences will be far graver."

  Ghelok struggled back to his kneeling position. The pain was gone from his face, and so, he knew, were the charcoal lines.

  "How did Helfare escape?"

  "He was aided by an unknown host of nine, one of them a wizard."

  "Does this wizard have a name?"

  "I did not hear it."

  "From which order of wizards?"

  "I could not tell," Ghelok confessed. "All I can remember of him were his dark spectacles, blue hat, and blue cloak."