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

by C S Marks

  He poured a tiny amount of the elixir down her throat, absently stroking her silken hair, gazing into her beautiful eyes. She stirred, trying to resist, but her movements were feeble and her eyes could not focus on him. He perceived confusion in their depths. He could only hope to make the rendezvous with Castor ‘ere he ran out of the sleeping-potion, for once Nelwyn came to herself that confusion would be replaced by hatred, and then he would most likely need to kill her to save his own life. There would be no profit in that.

  Gaelen had not been given a sleeping-draught, and in her eyes there was no confusion. She knew that Rogond had come for her, and she knew that she was being carried, secured to Finan. She felt unbalanced and awkward, as though she would slide off at any moment, and this was disquieting, but she could not move any part of her body to remedy it. Sajid had chosen his poison well if he wanted to claim revenge, for Gaelen had not experienced physical pain that could rival it.

  The day had begun pleasantly enough, and when they grew weary of riddles, Gaelen and Fima had decided to try another of their favored pastimes. They enjoyed holding mock battles, sparring with their weapons, honing their skills. Gaelen held great respect for Fima in this regard, for he was a skilled adversary, and he was likewise hard put to defend himself from her.

  The pain had come first upon Gaelen, as Fima drew back in horror, thinking he had injured her. He dropped his axe and knelt beside her, for she had doubled over and fallen to the ground, gasping. It had started as a vague tingling in her limbs, and she had paused in her sparring, staring curiously at her own right arm. This had turned rapidly into a burning pain that seemed to consume her entire body in flame. She had cried and dropped her weapon, staggering back and holding her hands before her face. Then she had dropped to the ground with her knees drawn up toward her belly. Nelwyn, who had been keeping watch, had fallen in nearly the same moment.

  Fima, who could not imagine what was happening to his friends, felt the first unsettling sensation in his hands and feet as he tried to lift Gaelen and carry her into the shade. She was stiff and unyielding, shuddering with pain as he tried to calm her. Her eyes at first were wide with terror and confusion, yet Fima saw her slowly master herself, and she pulled back from him, rising painfully to her knees, her teeth clenched, blood flowing from her lower lip where she had bitten it.

  All at once the pain came over Fima, and he was seemingly set aflame, reacting in much the same manner as the Elves, doubling over and sagging to the ground. What was happening to them? Gaelen knew that Fima would never survive lying helpless in the full sun, and she aided him in gaining the shelter. Dwarves are among the hardiest of folk, but Fima’s age was against him, and he curled up into a ball of misery.

  Gaelen and Nelwyn knew that they had to get help, and they would need to ride back to the oasis, where the only help would be found. They tried to gain the horses, sharing grim thoughts as their eyes met, but their bodies betrayed them. Nelwyn fell just short of Gryffa, giving a sort of strangled moan that was very distressing to hear. Gaelen managed to wrap her arms around Finan’s neck, for he was not tethered and came to her straightaway. She gave a feeble cry of frustration, for she could not mount him. Finan was very perceptive, and he dropped to his knees. Gaelen sort of fell across his back, but when he tried to rise again she could not grip him, and she slid to the ground like a sack.

  All the strength had flowed out of her body, and it would no longer answer her commands. Thankfully, the pain was abating, and soon she could feel nothing. She lay with her eyes open, seeing and hearing all around her, perfectly aware, but otherwise completely helpless. Finan, greatly distressed, called softly to her, trying to rouse her, prodding her with his muzzle. When she did not move, he stood over her, shading her with his body, doing all that he could to aid her.

  The next sight Gaelen beheld was the sneering face of Sajid the Spider. She could do nothing to respond to him, forced to listen to his vile words. When she realized what he would do to Nelwyn, she was nearly overcome with outrage and helplessness, for she could do nothing to stop him. As he knelt beside her, drawing his bright dagger to take her life, she knew that she could not prevent that, either, and she would never live to see to the death of Gorgon. That was unthinkable!

  The hatred and indignation rose so strongly within her that Gorgon actually perceived it, though he was over a thousand miles away. He sat bolt upright, perceiving the situation as clearly as if he were there himself, taking in a startled breath, realizing that, if he did not do something, this little toad of a man would take Gaelen’s life, denying him what would someday be his greatest pleasure! He focused all his dark power of thought upon Gaelen, channeling his malice through her, hoping that Sajid would perceive. The result was more than satisfactory, for Gaelen was so focused on her own hatred of Sajid that she was a perfect vessel, and thus did nothing to guard herself. Gorgon’s thoughts flowed effortlessly through her bright eyes.

  As soon as Sajid had drawn back from her, the contact had been broken. Gaelen had been helpless to prevent it, horrified at the surge of black hatred that had come not only from within herself, but from her mortal enemy. As Gorgon channeled his thoughts through her wide-open and utterly vulnerable consciousness, he learned several things of interest. She appeared to be in some vast, desert land, rendered helpless for some reason. And she appeared to be alone, save for the pathetic thief that would have taken her life. It made Gorgon wonder briefly whether any of his other foes had fallen already. Well, that did not truly matter, so long as Gaelen remained. He looked forward to the time of their next meeting, as he prepared to move forward again.

  Upon reflection, he did hope that at least some of the others remained, for he had a score to settle with them as well. The Aridan, who had been instrumental in his defeat, would grieve bitterly at the sight of Gaelen before Gorgon took him. This vision was pleasing, and he was diverted for a moment, smiling unpleasantly before returning to his dark business.

  Gorgon was not the only one who had learned things of interest. Gaelen had already known that Gorgon pursued her—she had felt it on occasion—but the quest for Hallagond had diverted her attention. This moment of uninvited, intimate contact had brought everything back into focus for her, and she resolved to return to her own quest as soon as she could manage it…if she lived.

  It would be a very long night for Rogond. He and Galador had gained the oasis and had taken their friends to the house of El-morah, who was most helpful. He sent his wife, Mohani, to fetch a man named Shiva, who was said to have great wisdom in matters of healing.

  El-morah had never before seen a dwarf, and Rogond knew that he would need to reveal the Company’s history to their kindly host. This he did, to the wonder of El-morah, while they waited for Mohani to return.

  Shiva, the healer, spoke only the sutherling tongue. El-morah would serve as interpreter, and after introducing himself and explaining their need, Rogond gave Shiva the water-skin that Sajid had poisoned. Shiva examined it, pouring a few remaining drops of the poisoned water into his hand, touching his tongue to it. “Someone has gone to the trouble of disguising this,” he said, spitting upon the clean tile floor. “We must make haste…how long since they took the poison?”

  “Many hours, I fear,” said Rogond. “You can heal them, can’t you?”

  Shiva started back. “Many hours? They should both be dead then. This poison kills some folk in a matter of minutes. Surely, you are mistaken.”

  “They are…special,” said Rogond. “I don’t have time to explain. But the one who did this to them has taken one of our other companions. We must heal them as quickly as we can.”

  Shiva placed his hand upon Rogond’s arm, his eyes full of concern. “You do not understand. You speak of healing them quickly, but I do not know whether I can heal them at all. This night will be a long one for all of us.”

  They bundled Gaelen and Fima against the chill of the desert night and carried them to Shiva’s dwelling, taking only El-morah with them. Sh
iva needed his remedies, and Mohani did not wish for their children to witness what would surely be a night of suffering. This, as it turned out, was very wise, for as the remedy began to work, reversing the effects of the poison, the pain returned.

  “I have heard it said that it is kinder to let death take you than to put you through the recovery,” said Shiva. “Some have suggested giving also a sleeping-draught, but unless you give it immediately I have seen that go very wrong. It has been too long now for them, and they are too weak. I would prefer to not risk it.”

  As they set Gaelen down upon the floor of Shiva’s dwelling, one of the little strips of paper she had received in the Sandstone fell from her jerkin. Shiva picked it up and examined it, as Rogond explained that it had been given in appreciation of her fine singing. The healer smiled grimly. “Give it back to her, northlander. It is a prayer for her safety, written in eastern tongue, and she will have need of it.” He looked hard at Rogond. “She will scream before this night is out. Are you prepared?”

  “What choice do I have?” Rogond answered, as Shiva nodded and prepared to administer the remedy.

  Gaelen and Fima were by now so weakened that they were unable to fight the pain and control it, so they were both transported into a terrible realm. Fima lay with his blue eyes open, but glazed and unseeing, as the pain welled up from within him and he groaned with despair. El-morah and Galador tended him, cooling his brow as they could.

  Gaelen lay shuddering in Rogond’s arms, her body aflame, her eyes wide with pain and terror, seeing nothing around her and hearing nothing but her own cries. She could not hear Rogond’s words, intended to comfort her, spoken in a voice charged with desperation. He wept as he held her, silent tears streaking his dusty face, rocking her gently as she rode through the next several hours.

  Outside, Finan screamed incessantly, pacing back and forth to the limits of his tether, for he could hear Gaelen’s cries. He broke into a hard sweat, for he could not break free, and the sound of Gaelen in such pain tore at him.

  Quiet! You will bring the wrath of the whole settlement on our heads, said Réalta, his nose in the air. You needn’t make such a fuss, for there is nothing you can do about it.

  Eros, who was also tethered, did not attempt to break free, for he had no need. He simply untied the rather hastily-secured knot and then wandered over to stand beside Finan, for he understood his distress. Stop fighting. I know you are unhappy and you wish to aid her, but you cannot. None of us can.

  I will not stand here to allow her to be taken into darkness by…by men! They cannot be trusted, they are cruel, and they took my Prince from me. I will not stand for it! Finan tried to rear, sqealing and lashing out with his forefeet at Eros, who easily avoided him.

  The Warrior is a man, and he is most kind and worthy. It is wrong that you should have such an opinion, and I sorrow for what you have endured. Only listen to me…trust the Warrior. He will not let harm come unto the Soft-Singer. He loves her, and he will safeguard her. Turn your hatred upon men as you will, for many are treacherous and cruel, but not all. Eros approached Finan, nickering to him, reaching out to take the base of Finan’s neck between his teeth, gently scratching it.

  Finan dropped his head, submitting to Eros, for he was exhausted. He gave one half-hearted whinny in response to another heart-wrenching cry from Gaelen, but he knew that Eros was right. Rogond was not cruel, and not all men deserved to be hated.

  Trust him. He will put her right, or die himself, said Eros, knowing the truth of it.

  Gaelen finally regained her senses as the sun rose, opening her eyes to look into the face of her beloved. Rogond had spent most of the night with her in his arms, trying to comfort her, even as she had done as he lay dying of fever when first they met. She looked into his worried face and managed a wan smile. Then she remembered the flames consuming her body, and she grew terrified as she raised her hands to look at them. She expected them to be blackened from the fire.

  “Peace, little one. You’re safe now. The worst of the pain has passed, and you will be all right…don’t be afraid,” said Rogond, his voice strong and soothing.

  Gaelen tried to speak, her voice coming forth in a sort of croaking whisper. “Am I whole?” Rogond nodded gently, smiling at her.

  “But, I was engulfed in flames…how is it that I am not burned?”

  “There were no flames...only in your mind. The poison that you were given made it so. You are whole, and beautiful as ever, though you have been through a terrible ordeal and you need to rest. Lie back now, close your eyes, and heal yourself.”

  Gaelen grew agitated and struggled against the weariness that threatened to claim her, for the mention of the poison had brought back all of Sajid’s treachery against herself and her friends. “Sajid…he has taken Nelwyn. He has taken her, and she was given the same poison. And Fima…Fima was laid low as well. Say that he has not left us, please!” Her heart hammered inside her chest at the memory of her friends in such distress, recalling the words of Sajid as he gloated over her. And there is something else…she thought, remembering the dreadful intrusion of Gorgon Elfhunter.

  Rogond grew alarmed, as she began to tremble in his arms. “Easy, now…you’re spending your strength. Calm yourself, beloved. Fima is recovering, as you are. He is sleeping, which is what you should be doing.”

  Gaelen would not be calmed. “Sajid could not resist gloating, and he told me his detestable plan. He has taken Nelwyn to a man named Castor, saying that she will bring a great price, and never be free again. I fear he is a dealer in slaves. We must aid her, for if she is sold we may never find her again. We must aid her! I am well, Rogond…my strength will come back quickly. We should find out where this Castor may be found and go after Nelwyn at once!”

  Rogond’s heart sank, though he tried not to show it. “Yes, yes, Gaelen. You’re right. I will inquire as to the whereabouts of this man, Castor. We have made some friends here, and perhaps they will aid us. But for now, you must rest, and no arguments. I will return when I have learned all that I may.”

  This seemed to satisfy her, for she knew that Rogond would have a better chance of getting information, and that she was in no condition to accompany him. She nodded solemnly and closed her eyes. “Do not fail her, Thaylon,” she whispered, as her body relaxed into sleep. Her heartbeat slowed back into its normal rhythm, and her face grew peaceful.

  Rogond brushed a few damp locks of hair from her forehead and covered her with woolen blankets. Shiva, the healer, had been standing by, and he came forward to examine her. El-morah had gone home to his family, but Rogond had learned enough of Shiva’s tongue to understand much of what he said.

  “She will recover, northman, as will your other companion. I fear he has not fared so well…because he is old, he will not fully regain his strength. This will leave a mark on him. I’m sorry.”

  Rogond struggled with his reply, trying to make his words understood. “Thanks immeasurable...it is not sad so long as my friends live. It is…it is well.”

  The healer smiled a warm but gap-toothed smile. “You need practice in the use of our tongue, northman, yet you are learning. Well done.”

  Rogond bowed in respect. “I must now go and seek knowledge of a man named Castor. Do you know of him?”

  Shiva shook his head. “I do not, but there are those here who might. Go to the tavern and seek one named Haifa. He is the proprietor. He may tell you much if you can motivate him. I heard that your wealth has been taken...a pity, for it will be gold that will best motivate one such as Haifa.”

  Rogond’s face grew as dark as a storm-cloud and his grey eyes glittered with ominous intent. He had not forgotten the treachery of Haifa, who had surely been in league with Sajid.

  “There will be other ways of motivating him, never fear. In the northlands we have special ways of motivating those who would bring harm to those we love.” He caressed Gaelen once more with a reassuring hand, turning to Shiva before taking his leave. “Will you watch over her
until I return?”

  Shiva agreed, and Rogond went out to collect Galador. The time for courtesy was past. It was time now to see about “motivating” Haifa and his unsavory companions, and though Rogond did not speak their tongue fluently, he had no doubt that they would understand the language he was planning on using.

  They went first to see El-morah, for they would thank him for his aid. He met them with a steaming mug of kaffa in each hand. “Rogond…you have not rested, and you look as though you could use some of this,” he said. Neither Rogond nor Galador needed urging, and they drank of the wonderful drink, recharging their spirits. El-morah refilled their vessels without a word. This they drank more slowly, explaining their intentions to their new friends. Mohani served them lovely, sweet cakes, asking after Gaelen and Fima.

  “They will recover,” said Galador, to her great relief.

  “Our children and I have been very concerned,” she said. “What will you do now?”

  “We must learn all that we can of a man named Castor, for one of our companions has been taken there by the one who betrayed us,” said Rogond. “When we have learned all that we may, we will set off to recover her. I need a favor, though it pains me to ask when we have already been such a burden to you.”

  “Ask, my friend,” said El-morah. “I will grant your favor, if it be in my power to grant.”