by C S Marks
She waited until Asaad’s men had moved away from him, then with blinding speed she drew her bow, aiming at his gloating face. “Don’t move, any of you, or he dies!” she said. “Do you care for your High Holy Man? Do as I command, or say farewell.”
Most of the Ballali could not imagine their leader being taken from them. The prospect was unthinkable! They would surely earn the wrath of the Powers of Heaven if they failed him now. For a moment, everyone froze, and dared not even breathe. Then Asaad rose with difficulty to his feet, though the sight of Gaelen’s eyes glittering from behind her lethal arrow-point chilled his blood.
He approached her with halting steps, speaking in a voice that only the Company could hear. “I promise to hear your defense, Avinasha. Would you truly kill an unarmed old man? That is not usually in your nature, is it? Only I can secure your release from this place, and know this—it will be by my words that you live or die. My people will take you the moment I fall to your arrow. Show mercy, and it shall be given to you.”
Gaelen knew he was trying to beguile her. His eyes told a different tale from his voice. She tightened her grip on her bow, answering him in a voice filled with cold loathing.
“Save your promises. I would sooner trust a snake than believe any words issuing from your forked tongue—I can read your thoughts in your eyes. Come no closer, or so help me, I will take you into darkness. Then long may your people grieve for you!”
“Asaad…she will do as she says. Make no mistake about it,” said Rogond. “I believe she’s right. You have no intention of allowing us to leave.”
“So what, then, must we do?” asked the Holy Man, spreading his hands as though to say, “I’m a reasonable man, and here you are making things difficult and not allowing me to be reasonable.”
“Order your people to allow us to leave,” said Gaelen. “When we are safely away, you may return to your detestable way of life. You needn’t worry about any of us again.”
“Ah, but I will need to worry about you, for you see, if I let you leave, then you will have committed a high crime against the Powers of Heaven, and escaped punishment. I must be prepared to die rather than allow that to happen, for my power rests on it.” His eyes grew cold as his lip curled into a snarl. “You should never have come into lands where you are not welcome. Now you will leave, for you will die.”
These words were his last.
To the horrified surprise of nearly everyone in the crowd, Asaad stiffened, his eyes bulging with pain and astonishment, and then fell forward, a bright dagger buried between his shoulders. It had come from someone in the crowd. The Ballali stood in silent shock for a moment, and then gave a great wail of grief and anger. Many ran to their fallen leader, while others searched from where the dagger had flown, momentarily distracted from the Company.
“Come on!” called a voice from behind them. “Fly while you can!” Hari and Fima had pushed through the startled Ballali, who fell back, for without the guidance of Asaad they were unmanned and fearful. “They will soon regain their wits, and you must be gone when they do,” said Hari. “Your horses are ready. Come on!”
The Ballali were in chaos, trying to discover who had taken Asaad, until one shouted: “The assassin was no doubt in league with the strangers…his evil deed has distracted us and allowed them to escape! Find them, and bring them to justice!” The angry crowd now turned to pursue the Company, who had made their way to Hari’s yards. The horses were waiting, and Fima had already secured most of their belongings.
Sajid had followed them, for he would not be abandoned. None of this had been in his plan, and now he had to salvage what he could. “You cannot leave me here. They know I was your guide—they will kill me slowly and painfully. Please, I have served you well. You can’t leave me here to die!”
Rogond looked around at his friends, knowing their thoughts concerning Sajid. “What is your will?” he asked them.
“Oh, let him come. We have no time to debate the matter. He can ride with us for now,” growled Fima.
Hari urged them forward. “Quickly…they’re coming now. They will kill you all! Leave while you can, and may the Blessings of Light go with you. You will need them.”
“Farewell, Hari, Provider of Horses,” said Gaelen. “Never was there a better friend.”
“Never mind,” said Hari. “I have always hated Asaad. It is good to be rid of him!”
“Who took his life, Hari? Do you know?” asked Gaelen.
“You are too curious,” he replied, his dark eyes glittering. “It’s best not to ask too many questions. Let’s just say it was…a friend. Fly now...fly while you can!”
The Company rode from the Sandstone, escaping for the moment with their lives, but the Ballali had set archers upon the ridge-tops, and they sent forth a storm of arrows. One of these struck the gallant Réalta, and he fell hard as Galador cried in dismay. Elraen turned Malvorn, for she was nearest, riding back to where Réalta lay with Galador who, thankfully, had fallen clear. She swept up to him, leaping from her mount and grabbing his arm. “Galdor! There is no time!”
Galador could not see whether Réalta was still breathing, but he lay unmoving on the sand, and Galador could not delay. He swung aboard Malvorn, his eyes burning with loss. He had truly loved Réalta. He pulled Elraen up behind him, and urged Malvorn to follow the Company with all speed. In a few moments, they were out of range. The Company had escaped the Sandstone, but a part of Galador’s heart still lay on the sand, his silver mane glittering in the light of the rising moon.
They kept going until the horses, exhausted by the deep sand, began to flag. They saw no riders pursuing them, at least not yet, and they drew to a halt. Rogond, who bore Sajid behind him, turned to regard Galador cantering toward him on Malvorn. Elraen clung to him, her eyes closed, her face pale and drawn.
Galador spoke softly over his shoulder. “Elraen…Elraen, it’s all right. We’re safe for the moment.”
Gaelen had set Fima down, and now she rode back with Nelwyn. As they passed behind Galador, their eyes grew wide. Nelwyn gave a cry of dismay as Gaelen rode forward. She leaped from Siva to run to Malvorn’s side, reaching up to Elraen. “She cannot hear you,” she said to Galador. “One of their arrows found her. Get down, Galador, and help me!”
Galador swung his long right leg across Malvorn’s neck, but Elraen’s fingers still gripped his shoulders tightly, and as he slid down, she came with him into Gaelen’s arms. A black-fletched arrow shaft protruded from Elraen’s back, and she moaned as Gaelen and Galador set her down gently upon the sand. She shivered with pain and cold, so they wrapped her in their cloaks, setting Sajid to watch for pursuit, as Fima and Nelwyn examined her.
“We must draw forth the shaft, but it is buried deep,” said Nelwyn. “I fear it may have been poisoned. Withdrawing it will do more damage, yet we must, or she will die very quickly now.” Her lips are blue, and her skin is cold, she thought. We may be too late already.
“We will need to push it through and break the barb free before withdrawing it,” said Rogond, who was experienced in such matters. He then set about the very painful task of pushing the arrow through the skin of Elraen’s belly, so that Gaelen could cut the barb free and withdraw the shaft from the back without tearing her up inside.
Elraen scarcely reacted to any of this, to the dismay of Nelwyn, who sat holding her hand and speaking comforting words. She looked up at Gaelen, her eyes filled with tears, and saw that her cousin also knew the truth…no matter what effort they expended to save her, Elraen had seen her last sunrise.
The moon gave plenty of light, and it shone in Elraen’s eyes as she opened them at last. Gaelen had removed her flaxen headband, dampened it with water, and was cleaning Elraen’s face. “You are here with your friends. Don’t be afraid…we will take good care of you, and you will heal quickly. You did a very brave thing going back for Galador…I had not even noticed that he had fallen. He owes you his life. When we return to the Greatwood, the King will have a feast in
your honor, and you shall sit beside him. We will all drink to your courage.”
She saw the familiar confusion in Elraen’s eyes for a moment, and then, all at once, they cleared. For the first time since Dûn Bennas, Gaelen truly looked into the eyes of her friend. Elraen’s eyelids fluttered for a moment, as though she would fall into sleep, but she marshaled her strength and kept them open, though she grew weaker moment by moment.
“Gaelen, it’s all right. I will lie here under the moon, and I will leave you. I truly don’t mind…I am no longer pained, and my thoughts are clear at last. The darkness has left me…the…the dark horrors have fled before the Light. Can you see it?”
Gaelen fought back tears, for she knew her friend was right, that she would leave them. Nelwyn was weeping already, her gentle spirit overcome.
“I see only moonlight, yet if the Light has driven the darkness from your heart, I rejoice that you have seen it at last. Stay with us, and be whole again, that we might return together to the Greatwood.”
“I would love nothing more than to see the forest again, but that will not be my fate,” said Elraen, her voice diminishing as her strength left her. “To you, and to your Company, I give my gratitude. You brought me out of darkness, and aided me when I needed you. You and Nelwyn have always been so…do you remember the fawn that we found, the one with the broken leg? I am like that fawn. You couldn’t heal it, but you made certain it did not die alone in terror and darkness. I will go now to my beloved, who waits for me. I see in your eyes that you understand. Let me go in peace, and do not grieve for me, for I shall know joy again.”
Elraen shuddered and closed her eyes. She was still in pain, and Gaelen and Nelwyn sat beside her, hoping either for a miraculous healing, or at least an easy release. This came a short while later, as Elraen opened her eyes again, her face shining briefly with the light of joy.
“Galdor? Galdor…you have come for me, and I shall go.”
She released her last breath, her face peaceful and contented, as Nelwyn looked back expecting to see Galador, for Elraen had surely mistaken him.
Galador wasn’t there; he was standing with Rogond. Gaelen, who looked now into the dead eyes of her friend, knew the truth already. Galdor had come for Elraen, and she was at peace at last.
The spirits of the Company were as low as they had ever been. They were alone in the desert with very few provisions. They had been driven from the Sandstone without their new guide, and would need to continue to rely on Sajid. Galador had lost Réalta, his favorite mount; both Siva and Eros would need to bear two riders. Eros grieved for Réalta, who had been his friend, and would not even take food from Rogond’s hand.
The loss of Elraen placed the greatest hardship on the Company. Gaelen and Nelwyn were inconsolable for a time, especially Gaelen, who still felt shame at her earlier treatment of Dona. Her grief soon turned to smoldering anger, and she took to spending time alone, brooding under the stars, not speaking to anyone. She would not even respond to Fima’s good humor.
They moved slowly, still bearing Elraen’s body with them. Gaelen insisted on heading directly toward a distant stony ridge that would provide a suitable place to lay her to rest, over the protestations of Sajid, who was of the opinion that they wasted precious time.
“We need to find water, and soon,” he said. “We have no time to wander about in search of rocks to cover your friend. She has gone from her body, and no longer cares.” He looked directly at Gaelen. “You will not assuage your guilt this way. What has been done is done. She would not want you to risk yourselves for her. Leave her. I know where water may be found.”
He realized that his words had fallen on deaf ears, and shook his head. “Elves never listen to the advice of others, do they? No matter how inexperienced they may be. In the desert, pride should be laid aside, or the desert ways will end your days.”
“We cannot bury her properly in the sand,” said Gaelen through clenched teeth. “I don’t want some wretched sutherling defiling her bones just because the wind uncovers them.” Then she turned her back on him, leading Siva toward the rocks to the southwest.
That night, Gaelen stood alone under the stars, so focused on her own thoughts that she did not hear Rogond coming up behind her.
“Gaelen, my love, I would speak with you. May I stand beside you for a while?”
Gaelen nodded, but she did not speak. She had not spoken to him all day. Rogond feared that her suppressed anger would consume her from within. He wanted to draw her out—to help her express what she was feeling.
“You must not blame yourself for what happened to Elraen. She is at peace now, and happy. This burden is not yours to bear.” He put his arm around her shoulders. She stiffened, her chin raised, her eyes hard and distant, and he patted her gently, trying to reach her. “You need to let your feelings loose, Gaelen, and not keep them within yourself. Please tell me what troubles you.”
Gaelen did not move, but she did speak. “I do feel guilt concerning my treatment of Elraen, but that is not what troubles me. I deeply regret her death, but it isn’t just the fault of the sutherlings—she was lost long before. Terrible, horrific things were done to her, things you and I cannot even imagine…and for what purpose? What enjoyment did the Shadowmancer derive from her suffering? How is it that he goes unchallenged? Will he not pay for what he did to her? He killed her, or might as well have, for he took her very essence away. Only at the end did she truly regain it. I…I would see her avenged! If I stood before Wrothgar at this moment, I would try to slay him for what he did to her. That’s why I’m angry!”
Rogond was shocked at her words. “Gaelen, don’t be foolish! You could not hope to challenge Lord Wrothgar…you would not take one step before you fell. What happened to Elraen was tragic. The Black Flame is foul, the very epitome of evil, but he is far beyond you! Keep no such thoughts in your mind…they can only cause frustration. This sort of venom will poison you. Say goodbye to your friend, and move on.”
“What of the other handiwork of Wrothgar? Shall I put aside my dark thoughts of Gorgon Elfhunter, as well? Will his victims ever be avenged?” Here, she looked into Rogond’s eyes, as her own filled with tears of shame and frustration. “Is there no way to end this?”
“There may be no way to end darkness, for it is a part of this world,” said Rogond. “It’s up to each of us to choose whether we will embrace it, or turn from it. The more we turn from it, the less its power becomes.”
He knew that Gaelen’s view of the world was a simple one—there was that which was good, and that which was evil. Evil must be vanquished, not just forsaken. Yet Lord Wrothgar, with his great power, could never be conquered by one such as Gaelen. She had lived her long life in relative simplicity until her recent travels; they had opened her thoughts to many questions.
“Cannot evil be driven then from the world if all right-minded folk stand against it?” she asked hopefully.
“One evil might be vanquished,” said Rogond, “but it would be replaced by another. The end of evil is a thing none of us will live to see, alas.”
“Perhaps not,” said Gaelen as he took her into his arms. He felt her sorrow, as well as her helplessness.
“In the end, evil did not conquer Elraen; she left this world in her right mind. Rest and be comforted,” he said, secretly breathing a sigh of relief. Thankfully, Tûr Dorcha was far enough away that he would not need to prevent her riding forth to the challenge, standing before the dread gates, striking them again and again until the Black Flame came forth.
“You might as well try him, Gaelen, what can it hurt?” Nelwyn regarded Finan, who stood before them, shaking a fly from his ear. “The horses are overburdened since the loss of Réalta. If you could ride Finan, then Sajid could ride Siva. It is difficult for her to carry both you and Fima all the time, and Sajid has been riding double on Eros. Eros is far better suited to carry Rogond and Fima. The only way you will know if he is sound is to try him.”
Gaelen considered. “I su
ppose it couldn’t hurt much…if he is still lame, I can always back off. I wonder if he will suffer himself to be ridden.”
She approached him, stretching out her hand, and he walked forward willingly, dipping his head so that she could more easily rub the top of his neck. She moved around to his left, stroking his back and shoulder, speaking softly to him: “Ehhhhya…steady my friend. Let’s see whether you will allow me to ride, all right? Steady, now.”
She swung lightly up onto Finan’s back, and he did not move, but shook his long forelock as if to say, “It’s about time.”
“It appears he will suffer me on his back, now let’s see about moving him,” said Gaelen, and she patted his neck, sending him forward. Finan stepped out willingly, breaking into a trot, gradually lengthening his stride before moving into an easy canter. Gaelen was delighted. He was smooth and easy to ride, had been trained very well on a time, and gave no argument. Her efforts had paid off, for he appeared to be sound. She was happy for the first time in many days.
They had buried Elraen among the stones, erecting a cairn over her body so that no beast or evil thing would touch her. Sajid moaned that they would surely die of thirst, for their water supply was low and they had gone miles out of their way. Gaelen and Nelwyn had learned that things were often not as they appeared in these lands, and the tall rocks that had seemed so near were a lot taller and more distant in reality. Gaelen had actually apologized to Sajid, yet she kept her course, and would not turn from it until Elraen was properly tended to. “Sajid, you were right,” she said, then thought for a moment.
