Fire-heart (Tales of Alterra, the World that Is)

by C S Marks

  “I’m weary of this,” said Rogond. “We will watch him tonight, and decide tomorrow. But I would ask this question of you all: if the decision is to take his life, which of you will have the soul to kill him as he stands helpless before you? Think on that…and sleep well.”

  They did think on it. Not even Gaelen had such a cold heart, despite the ominous feeling that the Company had just invited a deadly spider among them, and Sajid was spared. Hamir and his family departed for the far coastal markets with some reluctance, having left their new friends in the care of a guide who, while better than nothing, could easily prove treacherous rather than true.

  The Company made their way ever southward, their progress steady and sure, for Sajid knew where water and food could be found, as well as what was safe to eat and what was not. He also made it known that he spoke several of the common languages of the Ravani, even a bit of the Anori-speech, which was both odd and difficult.

  “Surely it could not be as difficult as Rûmhul,” said Gaelen, who had tried to learn the complex dwarvish tongue with limited success.

  Fima chuckled. “I’m not so certain of that, Gaelen...I have tried my hand at the eastern tongues, and they are quite a challenge. It will be interesting to see if you find them so, as they are almost sung rather than spoken.”

  Gaelen was fascinated. “Will you speak some of it for me, so that I may hear?” she asked Sajid. He obliged her, a false smile on his face, eliciting an astonishing reaction from Fima. He drew his axe almost without thinking and placed it at the frightened man’s throat.

  “I understand enough of that speech to know what was being said,” he growled. “He who insults my friends insults me. You will now apologize to her at once!”

  Sajid stammered an apology, saying that he meant nothing by his words. “I chose that phrase just because it is very musical, and for no other reason.”

  Fima was not convinced. “It seems more likely that you wanted recompense for the humiliation you suffered when she slapped your face. I know all about it! You’d best put your ill feelings toward Gaelen behind you…you wouldn’t want to make an enemy of me.”

  Sajid was suitably intimidated, but that didn’t prevent him from glaring at Fima’s back. If he had possessed a dagger and a bit more nerve, the dwarf might have been in peril.

  “What did he say?” asked Gaelen, drawing Fima aside.

  “It’s not a phrase that is normally applied to one such as you,” Fima growled. “In fact, it’s not a phrase that civilized folk would hear at all. I will say no more.”

  Fima left Gaelen to wonder what had been said of her by this strange little man, in whose hands the fate of the Company now rested, as they regarded one another with barely concealed contempt.

  “You’re making it ever more difficult to prove your worth,” said Gaelen in a chilly voice, whereupon Sajid simply smiled one of his falsely ingratiating smiles.

  “You are proud, and ignorant. My chance will come soon enough, and then you will understand the nature of my worth. Your lives will depend on me one day, and then may I have the grace to forgive your insolence.”

  “May you, indeed,” said Gaelen smiling back at him. “And may I have the patience to wait until the day after to place a shaft between your worthless ribs. Do we have an understanding?”

  Sajid nodded as Gaelen stared hard at him. As before, he could not endure her gaze, dropping his eyes before retreating to his own affairs.

  Rogond had observed that all was not well within the Company, and he was becoming concerned at the ever-growing tension. There was some enmity between Sajid and nearly everyone else; only Nelwyn seemed not to mind him. Rogond admired her for it. She always tries to see the best in everyone. The rest of us are quite the suspicious bunch. I’m sure it can’t be easy for our oily little guide…perhaps I should try to be more like Nelwyn and give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he did suffer mightily for his crimes. Perhaps he has turned a new leaf. He has done nothing to harm us…so far.

  Sajid had responded to Nelwyn’s gentle, friendly nature by spending quite a lot of his time with her, teaching her desert ways, imparting some of the sutherling tongue to her, and asking her to tell him of her world. When he really worked at it, he could be almost charming. This worried Rogond, as Galador positively bristled at such times. Since the advent of Dona, he has spent virtually no time alone with Nelwyn. This can’t be a good thing for either of them.

  Indeed, Nelwyn’s resentment of Dona grew by the day. Sajid was friendly enough, and Nelwyn tolerated him, even enjoying his company at times, but he was absolutely no substitute for Galador. Gaelen still resented Dona for, among other things, making Nelwyn unhappy. Besides, she was sincerely tired of Dona’s incessant crying.

  Dona, who, unlike Nelwyn, distrusted everyone except Galador, would not suffer Sajid to be anywhere near her. At least she and Gaelen agreed on something.

  “She is mad, that one,” said Sajid. “Her soul is filled with demons, and they pursue her day and night. She will bring nothing but trouble among you.”

  Gaelen bristled at him. “You would know all about afflictions of the soul, though I expect yours is so small and shriveled that demons would not even bother to torment you. I will not suffer scorn of any Elf from your lips. Take heed, and be silent.”

  Sajid favored her with an ill-natured look, then dropped back beside Rogond. “I sense you are a man of valor and worth, so how is it that you allow your women to speak thus to their betters? Were she in my tent, she would know her place and learn proper manners!”

  “Ah! Well, you are welcome to teach them to her,” said Rogond. “Shall I call her over so that you may begin your instructions?” Sajid did not reply to this, but was quiet for a moment. Then, to Rogond’s surprise, he laughed.

  A few days later, the tension that had been building between Dona and Nelwyn finally erupted. Dona had fallen asleep, for she was weary; the demons that afflicted her heart would not allow her to gain strength, and she would never be strong until they were vanquished. Galador had taken advantage of the opportunity to spend time with Nelwyn, holding her at last, embracing fiercely in the shade of the rocks among which they were sheltering. There was water here, and all could drink their fill. The ground was stony rather than sandy, and the going was less tiring. Nelwyn had never been so glad of an embrace, and she loved Galador in the cool darkness of their sanctuary.

  Gaelen was attending to Finan when she first heard Dona’s cries, followed by Nelwyn’s. Rushing to defend her cousin, Gaelen found her locked in hand-to-hand combat with poor, mad Dona, as Galador tried in vain to come between them.

  Dona had awakened, and been dismayed to find Galador gone from her side—her eyes searched frantically for him to no avail. Then she heard Sajid’s silky, menacing voice from behind the tall stone at her back.

  “Your beloved has gone to lie with another,” he said. “Surely you have seen the way he looks at the golden-haired one; her beauty is so much greater than your own. You have lost him to her. Search for him...I know that you will find him with her. Always she has tried to steal him from you.” Dona nodded, eyes bright with tears. She didn’t trust Sajid, but she knew he was speaking the truth this time.

  “Go now, little flower, and reclaim your own. You must not harm the golden-haired one, for if you do, your beloved will resent you for it. But you must teach her to stay away from him…can you do that?”

  Dona nodded again, her terrified eyes resolute. Then she rose and went in search of Galador, only to find him locked in loving embrace with Nelwyn.

  “You will not take my beloved from me!” she cried, attempting to pull Nelwyn away. Nelwyn’s suppressed anger and frustration overcame her gentle nature, and the two of them were now fighting fiercely, each desperately trying to reclaim her own.

  When Gaelen appeared, Galador shouted to her: “Gaelen, take hold of Dona—I will handle Nelwyn! Be quick, before they truly hurt each other!”

  Gaelen leaped into the fray, w
restling Dona away from Nelwyn with some effort. Dona’s madness had made her strong, and she fought like a cornered animal. Gaelen was hard put to defend herself, for she was constrained not to hurt Dona, whereas Dona had no such compunction.

  They strove for several minutes as Galador held onto Nelwyn. Then, just as it seemed the struggle would end, a blade suddenly appeared in Dona’s hand. She swiped at Gaelen as the smaller Elf drew back in alarm. The blade sliced through the skin and into the muscle of her left arm, and she cried out in pain and surprise.

  This changed everything, and the terms of the battle were now far more serious. Gaelen grabbed Dona’s wrist and twisted hard, disarming her. She picked up the blade and tossed it away as Dona wept, for she was now too weak to prevail, and she knew it. Gaelen drew herself up, raising her right arm to strike her adversary, fury in her eyes.

  Then, to the astonishment of Galador and Nelwyn, Gaelen’s expression changed. She lowered her arm, and the fury drained from her face to be replaced by an expression of incredulity. She was staring at Dona’s neck, normally hidden by her tunic and her hair. She released her grip on Dona’s arm as her fingers searched, pushing back Dona’s hair to expose an oddly-shaped purplish mark. Dona had surrendered, for her strength was gone, drained by the ferocity of her emotions.

  Gaelen’s anger fled, her discovery filling her heart with grief and remorse tinged with horror. She knew that mark, even as she had once known the one who bore it. Dona was an Elf of the Greatwood. Both Gaelen and Nelwyn had called her “friend.”

  Elraen? Is it really you? We thought you lost, we searched for you to no avail. “Elraen…it’s Gaelen! Do you not know me?” Dona stopped crying, and her eyes grew wide. Gaelen tried again.

  “Elraen…your name is Elraen. You are the daughter of Elandor and Elraeth. You had a brother, Alroth, who was slain. You are of the Greatwood Realm, where Ri-Aruin is King. Elraen…come back to us! Draw back this dark curtain, and return to the Greatwood. Oh…Elraen, my friend!”

  Tears of pity and remorse stood in Gaelen’s eyes. Galador released Nelwyn, who had gone to sit beside her. Rogond and Fima had heard the commotion, and were now witness to an incredible transformation. Dona, once known as Elraen, had not heard her name spoken in untold years. It was as though she had forgotten that she once had a life—a happy life, with friends and kin, and her beloved Galdor.

  Gaelen and Nelwyn looked at each other, their faces full of pain. This mad She-elf, whom they had regarded as a burdensome nuisance, had once dwelled in the Greatwood. Were it not for the birthmark upon her neck they would never have recognized her, for she no longer resembled the Elraen they had known, she had looked almost like an old woman. It had not occurred to them that “Galdor” was not simply a mispronunciation of “Galador.” Both Gaelen and Nelwyn had known Galdor, though not well, and it had been a long time indeed since they had thought of him.

  Gaelen looked now upon her ruined friend, her eyes wide with sudden understanding.

  “She has been to Tûr Dorcha,” she stated softly, her voice full of dread. “The Shadow took her, even as it tried to take you, Nelwyn. Do you remember? You escaped that fate, but Elraen…” She reached out with a gentle hand, smoothing Elraen’s hair as Nelwyn helped her to sit, speaking calming words. Elraen appeared to be a different person. Some of the years fell from her face, and a flicker of light kindled in her eyes.

  “Yes, I’m Elraen…Elraen of the Greatwood.” She looked around behind her to regard Galador sitting quietly, his face calm and gentle. “You…you are not Galdor! But I thought…I saw my beloved in your face! Where is he? Where is my love?” She looked over at Gaelen, and read the despair in her eyes. “Say not that he has been taken into darkness! I could not bear it…tell me the grief in your eyes is not for Galdor!”

  “It is not for Galdor, but for you,” said Gaelen, her soft voice breaking. She vaguely remembered Galdor, a fine strong Wood-elf who very much resembled Galador. He had died only a few years after the disappearance of Elraen. Everyone said that his grief made him unwary, and he fell to enemies as he wandered alone at night, singing of his pain at the loss of his love. They killed him with arrows, stripped him of his possessions, and left his body for the scavengers. His friends had found him, drawn to his sad remains by the harsh cries of ravens.

  Elraen read the truth in Gaelen’s eyes, wrapped her arms around her own shoulders, and began to wail.

  Gaelen understood her pain, and she wept as she embraced her former friend, who was lost. Nelwyn wept also, for she had known Elraen and Galdor, though she had not thought of either of them in many a year. Galador was now at her side, offering comfort.

  Elraen cried until she was spent, as Gaelen held her. Finally, she sank exhausted into sleep, but although the healing of her spirit could begin at last, her dreams were dark. She saw Sajid, and heard his honeyed voice speaking venomous words. She tried desperately to reach out to Galdor, to find him again, but she was denied. When she awoke, Gaelen was still at her side.

  “You have found yourself again…there is light in your eyes once more. I’m sorry for my ill thoughts of you; I did not know you then. I know that does not excuse my actions.” Gaelen felt guilty enough to be truly miserable, and it would take some time ‘ere it faded. Eventually she would tell Elraen of the fate of her beloved, but for now she kept silent.

  Elraen would begin to fight back the demons that had robbed her of her sanity, though they would always leave their mark upon her face, and upon her heart. She held no enmity toward any in the Company any longer, save for Sajid, whom she named “Cuidag the Spider.” Gaelen and Galador used it at every opportunity, to the annoyance of Sajid, who did not understand Elven-tongues, and thus did not grasp the meaning of it.

  Radeef the horse-trader led his travel-worn animals into the bazaar, where a number of other traders, some legitimate, others as unscrupulous as himself, displayed their wares. He spent a rather disappointing day, selling only one animal, and it was the best he had. It brought a fairly good price, but he could not expect to gain much from the others, who had not borne the journey well. Thankfully, there was always the meat market. He would not run upon an opportunity again like the one involving the She-elf and that sentimental dwarf, in which he had traded a worthless, broken-down horse for ten gold pieces. That horse would never have survived the long journey, that was certain, and here he was ten gold pieces to the good! If only soft-hearted She-elves were more abundant, Radeef could afford to retire.

  What he needed was a night of entertainment. He left the horses in the care of his lackeys, going at once to the gathering-place at the edge of the bazaar. A group of large, colorful tents stood in a semi-circle, and one could obtain nearly any comfort here. He first made his way to the place where he could wash the dust from his feet, don fresh robes, and have his hair and beard combed and refreshed with scented oil. After paying a small amount for this convenience, he went to the tent where most of the drinking was going on. Here he could obtain nearly any sort of liquor, and he chose a sweet red wine. There were several acquaintances in attendance, all former slavers no more appealing than Radeef, swapping tall stories and drinking heavily.

  Radeef regaled them with the tale of his encounter with the Company, having bilked a dwarf out of ten gold pieces. None of Radeef’s companions could match this, and they were most suitably impressed.

  “What was such a group doing in these lands?” asked one, who could not imagine such a thing.

  “They were looking for some northerner named, ahhh…Hallagond, I believe. Yes, that was the name. The tall one who rode out with the dwarf is his brother, as I recall. Supposedly this man is now somewhere in the Ravi, and is tall with dark hair and grey eyes. A pity I did not have news of him, there’s no knowing what they would have given for it.”

  “Hallagond, you say?” said another, his dark eyes widening in recognition of the name. “I’ll warrant that is the true name of the Forsaken One, Al-amand. I know him. He is a scoundrel and a thief,
but he is a northman with grey eyes and dark hair. Alas that I am traveling to Castalan, and not to the south! Yet there may still be some profit to be had, if I can get a message to Al-amand. He’ll pay dearly to throw this brother off his trail, if I am any judge. He has made it quite clear that he doesn’t wish any contact with his past life in the northlands.”

  “Truly?” said Radeef, his black eyes glittering. “If that is so, it may well be worth sending a message. If Al-amand will pay to ensure that his brother never finds him, we have ways of doing that, don’t we?” He chuckled under his breath, imagining the money he would make at the expense of that ignorant northerner. It would not be all that difficult, as such an honest man would easily be led astray.

  Chapter 7: SUTHERLINGS AND EASTERNERS

  One of the more useful services provided by Hamir and his brothers was their examination and correction of Fima’s map. They had added to it considerably, including the last-known locations of water holes, settlements, and lesser roads. The map would now prove much more useful than before.

  After consulting with Sajid, Rogond elected to set out for the settlement known as the “Sandstone” in the common-tongue. There would be folk there of various origins, but primarily those akin to Hamir’s family. These were generally good people, and Sajid explained that they would probably be of help. “Aid will be found where news abounds,” he said, smiling at the cleverness of his rhyme. “In the Sandstone you’ll find news of every kind.”

  The Sandstone was at least a week’s journey away. Elraen still preferred riding behind Galador, and so Sajid was free to ride Malvorn once the gear was distributed among the other animals. Sajid had at first cast his eye upon Finan, whose lameness was no longer apparent.

  “He is thin, but he was a fine animal once,” Sajid observed, earning the first appreciative look from Gaelen. “Where did you acquire him?”