Lord Galen spoke: "My companion is Sir Tuckerby Underbank, Waerling of the Boskydells, Land of the Thornwall. He is a Thornwalker and a Rukh slayer and serves in the Company of High King Aurion, and now rides with me as my trusted companion. We are on the track of a band of foul Ghola, slayers of innocents ten 'Darkdays past."
"And your name?" One Elf had now lowered his sword.
"I am Galen, son of Aurion," said the Prince, softly.
"Hai!" The Elves now sheathed their blades, and one turned and signalled to the crags above. "I am Duorn and this is Tillaron, and we were sent to slay you if you served the Evil One, or to fetch you if you be friends, for you are camped upon our very doorstep."
"But… how… I did not hear you approach," stammered Tuck, then his voice turned to self-disgust: "Hmph! This rock would make a better sentry than I."
"Blame not yourself, Wee One," said Tillaron, "for at times we can move as softly as even the Waerlinga." And his tilted eyes twinkled as Tuck's rueful laugh sounded quietly among the crags.
"If you are to fetch us, then who sent you, and where are we to go?" Lord Galen asked.
"Captain Elaria sent us," answered Duorn, "and as to where we will go, why, to Arden Vale."
"Arden?" blurted Tuck. "That's where Lord Inarion bade us seek help if aught was needed. Lord Gildor spoke of it, too. But I thought Arden lay to the south, down near the Crossland Road."
"Aye, it is in the south, Wee One," answered Tillaron, "yet Arden reaches far north, too, and is but a few steps from here—less than a league to shelter and warm food."
And so they broke camp, scattering the fire, quenching the embers with snow. Then toward the craggy bluff they went on foot, Galen leading Jet. Straight at the sheer stone they strode, and Tuck wondered at their course. Through close-set pines they pressed, and into a hidden cleft in the rock. Jet's hooves rang upon rock as into an arched granite cavern they were led, hands outstretched before them, for they could see nought in the dark. "Trail your hand along the wall on your left," Duorn's voice came, echoing softly, "and fear not for your toes or your crown, for the floor is smooth and the ceiling high. Five hundred paces we will go in the dark, for a light might be seen by unfriendly eyes."
It was nearly nine hundred paces by Tuck's count ere they came out of the tunnel, yet he had expected it to be so, for his stride could not match that of the tall Lian. When they emerged into the Shadowlight, Tuck could see a deep craggy gorge lying before him, a gorge lined by tall pines growing thickly in the soil that lay on either side of the river below, now frozen in the winter cold.
A steep narrow path fell down the gorge wall to come among the pines. And Tuck could see several long low buildings nestled in the trees below.
Along the path they went, and as they strode down they heard the horn of a sentry signalling the arrival of strangers into the gorge. Down the path and among the pines they went, to come at last to the central shelter. An Elf took Jet and led him away as Tuck and Galen were ushered inside. Vivid colors and warmth and the smell of food assaulted Tuck's senses as they entered the great hall, lambent with yellow lamps glowing in cressets and fires burning on the hearths. Bright Elves turned as the strangers entered, and silence reigned as the Elven leader stood to greet them, his consort at his side.
Tuck and Galen doffed their cloaks; their quilted goose-down outer clothing was shed, too. And there before the assembly came two bright warriors, Tuck's armor silveron and Galen's bright red. And Galen looked at the Warrow "Princeling" and smiled a broad grin, receiving a smile in return, for neither had seen the other in aught but bulky down, and now they both looked the part of warriors.
And as they strode to the dais. Elves murmured in amaze, for visits to Arden by Men were rare, but here come among them was a jewel-eyed Waerling.
"My Lord Talarin," said Duorn in a voice all could hear, "I bring you Prince Galen, son of Aurion King, and Sir Tuckerby Underbank, Waerling of the Boskydells."
Talarin bowed, a tall slim figure with golden hair and green eyes, dressed in soft grey. He turned to his consort. "Prince Galen, Sir Tuckerby, this is the fair Rael."
Tuck raised his eyes, and his heart was filled with wonder, for here was a beauty like unto that of the Lady Laurelin. Fair was Rael, and graceful, too, yet where Laurelin's hair was wheaten and her eyes pale grey, Rael's locks were golden and her eyes deep blue. Dressed in green, she was, with her hair bound in ribbons. And she smiled down at Tuck, and his sapphire eyes sparkled.
"You must eat and drink and spend some days with us," said the Elfess, "and rest from your journey."
"Ah, my Lady, much as we would like, we cannot," responded Galen. "Yes, tonight, perhaps, we will eat and drink and be warm, and rest under your guard—"
"And take a bath, too, please," interrupted Tuck, his head bobbing.
"Aye, and bathe, too, if we may," continued Galen, smiling. "But on the morrow we must leave at haste, for we are on the track of Ghola, and north we ride."
"On the track of Ghûlka?" exclaimed Talarin. "Prince Galen, ere you set at our board, there is someone you must see, for it may bear upon your mission. Follow me."
Talarin strode quickly down the length of the hall and out the doors and across the snow with Galen and Tuck in his wake. As they crossed toward another building, Tuck heard the sentry's horn announcing another arrival, and he looked up at the gorge wall to see a horse bearing an Elf clattering swiftly down the distant path.
But Tuck's attention was drawn to Lord Talarin's words: "He was found three Darkdays past," Talarin said as they walked, "lying in the snow, wounded and fevered, cut upon the brow, perhaps by poisoned blade. He would have frozen had my patrol not happened upon him. His horse had bore him toward the entrance to the gorge, and he was not far away. But he had fallen from the saddle and lay among the rocks—for how long, I cannot say—and he was nearly dead.
"But he, too, mumbled of Ghûlka, and now at times he rages, fevered. Even so, he might bear you news, though he has not awakened."
Into the building Talarin led them, and down a central hall of doorways. Tuck's heart was racing, and a great sense of foreboding filled his being. Ahead, a door opened, and an Elven healer stepped into the corridor. "Alor Talarin," the Elf greeted the Lian leader.
"How fares the youth?" asked Talarin.
"His face is flush with heat, yet I deem the fever has begun to break, for he is at times no longer racked with chills, and he will waken soon." The Elf's eyes slid over Tuck and Galen, wonder in his gaze, but he spoke on to Talarin: "Yet he has been near death, and trembles with weakness. His strength will not return for a fortnight or two, and then only if the herbs the Dara Rael used can throw off the poison of the Rûpt blade."
"I would that Lord Galen sees him, for it may bear upon the Prince's quest," said Lord Talarin, and the healer stepped aside, opening the door.
With Tuck's pulse thudding in his ears, into the candlelit room they quietly stepped. There in a bed lay a young Man, his face to the wall, and he was weeping.
Galen spoke softly to him, anguish in his voice: "Igon."
And as Tuck's hopes crashed down around his heart, Prince Igon turned his face to that of his brother. "Galen, oh, Galen," he wept, "they've got Laurelin."
Tuck sat numbly on a bench against the wall as Lord Galen held Igon to him, and tears streamed down the faces of all three. Yet the look upon Galen's visage was grim to behold. The candles cast a soft yellow glow over the room, and Lord Talarin stood by the door, his eyes glittering in the light. But then Galen gently lowered Igon unto the bed and called for the healer, for the youth's fever had flared again, and the young Prince had swooned.
As the healer stepped to the bedside, there came the muffled steps of someone striding hard down the hall, and Talarin stepped into the corridor. Tuck heard the faint sound of hushed voices, muted by the door, and then into the room came Talarin, and another Elf was with him, dressed in stained riding garb. Tuck looked up. "Lord Gildor!"
Galen
turned his bleak face to Lord Gildor's, and the Elf gripped something tight in his fist.
"I come bearing woeful news, Galen King." Lord Gildor held out his hand, closed upon a token, and Galen reached forth to take what was offered—a scarlet eye-patch. "Aurion Redeye is dead."
Tuck sat stunned. He could not seem to get enough air to breathe, and he no longer could see through his tears.
Galen spoke at last: "My sire is slain, and my betrothed is taken captive, and my brother lies wounded by poisoned blade. And Modru's dark tide drowns the Land. These are evil days for Mithgar, and evil choices am I given."
"Galen King," said Lord Gildor next, "for all of Mithgar, you must ride south to lead the Host against vile Modru's Horde."
"North! Ride north!" Igon cried, starting up from a fevered dream, his wild eyes unseeing. "Save the Lady Laurelin!"
* * *
Here ends the first part of the tale of The Iron Tower.
The second part is called Shadows of Doom. It continues the stories of Tuck and Galen, of Laurelin, and of other companions in beleaguered Mithgar.
The third part, The Darkest Day, tells of the last desperate gamble of the Alliance to thwart Modru's evil plan.
* * *
About the Author
Dennis L. McKiernan was born April 4, 1932, in Moberly, Missouri, where he lived until age eighteen, when he joined the U.S. Air Force, serving four years during the Korean War. He received a B.S. in Electrical Engineering from the University of Missouri in 1958 and, similarly, an M.S. from Duke University in 1964. Employed by a leading research and development laboratory, he resides with his family in Westerville, Ohio. Though he has freelanced articles for magazines, The Iron Tower marks his debut as a novelist.
<==〉= †† =〈==>
*proofed by Knives - 07/12/04
The Dark Tide Page 24
