The Longsword Chronicles: Book 06 - Elayeen Read online

  Book 6

  Prologue

  “When mihoth Gawain and I were throth-bound, I saw in him a darkness lurking as a shadow might, fearful of the brilliance of his light yet thriving on it. But not all darkness is to be feared, and his, on occasion, gives him the strength to do what must be done. I knew it would give him the strength to return to me, just as it gave him the strength to trespass Elvenheth and Faranthroth to claim me for his own. He is the Deed, after all. It is as well our throth was broken, I think; without small secrets between lovers, there can be no mystery, and without mystery, no wonder. And sometimes, without larger secrets, deeds which need to be done might not be.”

  Her Royal Majesty Thalin-Elayeen Rhiannon Seraneth ní Varan Raheen, as told to the Bard-Chronicler Lyssa of Callodon

  1. Farewells

  Elayeen struggled to maintain her composure, her arms and her cloak wrapped tightly about herself, watching as Gawain rode slowly across Tarn Square, Allazar beside him, Reesen of ‘Heth and the dwarf, Ognorm, close behind. Her throat tightened, and though she told herself it was the chill northern wind on a bleak and blustery December morning making her eyes water, she knew it was a lie.

  Gawain didn’t look back. None of them did. Which was as it should be.

  “Come inside, in the warm,” Merrin smiled sadly, but Elayeen shook her head, silver-blonde braid and tresses breaking free of her cloak’s hood and whipping about her face in the gusts.

  “In a moment, Lady Merrin,” she said, “I would watch him until he is beyond my sight.”

  Merrin understood, and nodded, and with her husband, Rak, left the three elves standing by the front door.

  “You should have told him,” Meeya said quietly, speaking in their own language, although no-one was nearby who could possibly overhear them.

  “What would you have me tell him, Meeya?” Elayeen replied. “He goes where I cannot, and that is painful enough. Would you have me add even more weight to his burden, and to my own?”

  “You could at least have told him about Reesen, my lady,” Meeya chided gently.

  “Ask your husband how he would feel, Meeya, were he my king and I were to tell him of Reesen of ‘Heth, and why I chose him as escort.”

  “I am no horse-king of Raheen, miThalin,” Valin said softly, “My feelings are surely far removed from those of Thal-Gawain. They cannot compare.”

  Elayeen blinked, and summoned the Sight. It was so much easier now she was master of it. A blink and a thought and the world was seen anew, living things glowing against a grey backdrop of faint shapes, gingerbread men and gingerbread animals in a sea of mist.

  Gawain still shone brightest of all, by far, though she noted with a curious detachment that they were all bright, the wizard, the elf and the powerfully-built dwarf Gawain had named in Eryk’s Hall. Brighter than the lights she could see glowing faintly inside the Inn, the hostelry named after her king in the days when all in the lowlands, even she herself, knew the King of Raheen as ‘Traveller.’ Before the world knew him as Longsword, or DarkSlayer.

  She watched until those lights faded beyond her range, and then with a sigh, she blinked away the Sight of the Eldenelves, and lowered her head. She was alone now, alone with her duty, a duty which at times seemed to cling to her like the tendrils of Faranthroth, dragging her into the earth, dragging her from life itself.

  “He will return,” Meeya asserted, nodding sternly. “If there is any one of mankind who can return from that place to you, it is he. Never shall I forget the day he trespassed Elvenheth…”

  “Do not speak the words he uttered, Meeya, please,” Elayeen interrupted, softly, but with desperation. “I could not bear to hear them, not this day. Not now he is gone beyond my sight and beyond recall.”

  Meeya nodded, dark eyes wide with concern. “He’ll return, Leeny. He will.”

  Elayeen nodded, and wiped her eyes again, and took a small handkerchief from her sleeve to blow her nose. The gusts of freezing northern air, of course, making her nose and eyes stream.

  “Will you both come in, at least for a while?”

  “A short while, miThalin,” Valin announced, as formal as he always was when duty was foremost in his mind. “We must soon begin our patrols, and the duty roster must be compiled.”

  “What if it’s all just stories, Leeny?” Meeya blurted, “What if the stories told by old women are just that, stories told by old women? What if there is no Merionell?”

  “Then it is still too late to recall my king and tell him anything you would have him know, Meeya. Besides, do you really think the Toorseneth would have sent the Sceptre to destroy me if it were all just stories told by old women? They will not rest until all of us are dead, or until they are.”

  Meeya held her gaze a moment longer, as if searching for hope. Then she blinked, and wiped away a tear of her own. Elayeen reached out to take her friend’s hand.

  “Come, some hot wine before you and ihoth must return to the barracks. Valin is chafing to return to his duty.”

  “It is precisely because I know the reasons why the Sceptre was sent for you that I chafe to return to my duty, miThalin. We are few now, here in all Threlland, and all of us must remain alert for agents of the Toorseneth as well as for whatever dark reprisals Morloch sends against these lands.”

  “I know, Valin. I wasn’t chiding you.”

  “No, miThalin. I was chiding you.”

  Meeya shot a stern glance at her husband, who remained unmoved.

  “I mean to remain here in Lady Merrin’s house,” Elayeen said softly. “I know your concerns, Valin, and I do appreciate them. But Lord Rak of Tarn is one of the first friends mihoth encountered in the lowlands during his banishment, and I will not shame him by hiding in the barracks of the Tarn Guard until G’wain’s return from Calhaneth.”

  “If mihoth had his way you’d be locked in a tower in Threlland’s Crownmount surrounded by the entire ninety-five, day and night,” Meeya announced, and though her tone was light-hearted there was more than a grain of truth in her words.

  “Winter wine in a warm kitchen, and the common tongue, come, I command it,” Elayeen did her best to smile, but that had been difficult for a long time now.

  In the warmth of Merrin’s kitchen, the toddler Travak burbled happily and pushed his three-legged toy horse across the floor in the heat from the fire and the range, and Merrin herself poured hot breakfast wine into three ornate silver cups while the elves sat.

  “Thank you,” Elayeen said softly. She gave up the attempt at a smile and instead sipped the steaming spiced beverage.

  “You know you’re both welcome to stay,” Merrin smiled hopefully at Meeya and Valin, “With the wizard gone the room is vacant again and you would be most welcome.”

  “Thank you, Lady Merrin,” Meeya nodded her head politely, “But we really must return. In the absence of Thal-Gawain, it is our duty to watch over his lady and his friends, until he returns and can do so himself.”

  “Well, the room will doubtless stay vacant until their homecoming, so you know you may make use of it at any time. I’ll take this happy little fellow to pester his father in the living-room, and leave you together in peace to warm up.”

  When they were alone, warming their hands on the cups, it was Meeya who broke the silence, and because they were alone, in elvish.

  “Travak is indeed a happy little boy. I doubt he will ever know how close these lands came to disaster.”

  “He will learn in time,” Elayeen sighed, knowing Rak’s appreciation of history and diplomacy. “His father will teach him, one day.”

  “They celebrated as though the war had ended,” Valin grumbled quietly. “And s
ome of them still do. The Major, Sarek, is a good officer though. He keeps reminding his Rangers of the need for vigilance. I like him.”

  “G’wain likes him, too,” Elayeen said softly, gazing into the fireplace. “He said Major Sarek had learned well the lessons of the Barak-nor, and was building a commendable force.”

  “True,” Valin conceded, “Though far too small in numbers for a land with such geography and borders as this.”

  “They are doing their best, Valin,” Meeya chided. “And with your help, will do better. With the great chasm in the north, the threat to these lands now comes only from the west.”

  “Morloch’s servants have wings with which to cross that chasm.”

  “And we have the Sight with which to see them approaching should they do so,” Meeya retorted.

  “Hush,” Elayeen whispered. “You two argue like an old married couple.”

  Valin sniffed, and took a sip of his wine. “Not that old,” he mumbled into his cup.

  Meeya seemed suddenly alarmed again, and almost blurted her question: “Do you think the Toorseneth would travel to the far south, if they learned of Thal-Gawain’s quest? Do you think even they would trespass there, after so long?”

  “I don’t know,” Elayeen frowned. “The Sutengard had made it as far as the first great Wheel when we encountered them on the canal. Neither they nor the Toorseneth’s soolen lapdog could operate the Wheel, and all of them were happy not to have to travel any further south than they already had.”

  “Then perhaps they’ll cower in their tower and heed the old taboos,” Meeya asserted, nodding as if to strengthen her own convictions.

  “It was they who enforced the taboo on journeying south of the Wheel,” Elayeen reminded them, and then took a deep breath. “Besides, there are no elves abroad in these lands but we three and the remainder of the ninety-five. How is the Toorseneth to learn of Thal-Gawain’s quest?”

  “How did they ever learn of anything that happened at home or abroad?” Valin said softly. “They have spies everywhere.”

  “Then it’s as well so few of us know G’wain’s destination, and the nature of the thing he seeks. And it must remain thus.”

  “And it shall, miThalin, here at least. But who can speak for Juria, or Callodon?”

  “The ninety-five watch in all lands, Valin, for the Toorsencreed as well as for Morloch’s agents. We must trust in ourselves, now more than ever.”

  “And the people of these eastern lands? Do we trust in them, now that the Battle of Far-gor is over?”

  Elayeen stared into her cup, the wine rich and dark. At Far-gor, the world had stood together once more, side by side against an enemy of dread power and dread numbers. And the world had prevailed. It shouldn’t have been, she knew it in her bones, the battle should never have taken place. She knew it, in spite of Allazar’s insistence that it was impossible to deduce the Shitheen’s intentions so long after they placed the Morgmetal spike in the tunnel beneath the farak gorin.

  Now, though, the battle was over. The survivors had stood behind the ninety-five when the Toorsencreed had desecrated the battlefield spewing bile and threatening death. That gesture of solidarity had been immensely powerful at the time, and still sent shivers down her spine whenever she recalled it.

  But now, the battle was over, survivors returned home, celebrations held and peace embraced with hope. The ninety-five were scattered from Tarn to Callodon. Thallanhall had abandoned all lands east of Elvendere, leaving them to stand alone against Morloch. It wouldn’t take long before those who’d never worn the symbol of the Kindred Army forgot Far-gor, and remembered instead Elvendere’s betrayal.

  “We must be circumspect,” she replied, her tone measured. “And we must remain true to our oaths to Gawain.”

  “And the Merionell?”

  “I still have time before I need to make that decision, Valin. We are a long way from summer.”

  “With luck,” Meeya said, “News of Thal-Gawain’s success in the south will arrive before then…”

  Elayeen felt another small bubble of sorrow swelling in her throat. “It will make no difference, Meeya. Whether he lives to return to me, or dies in the attempt, it will make no difference to the Merionell, and the decision I must make.”

  Valin drained his cup, uncomfortable in sight of Elayeen’s distress. He always was, she knew that. Meeya had told her often enough that Valin was dyed-in-the-wool Thalangard; you can take the officer of out Elvendere, but you can’t take Elvendere out of the officer. He viewed any distress on Elayeen’s part as a failure of duty on his.

  “Ihoth is anxious to get back to barracks, Meeya, you should go. It was kind of you both to escort me this morning.”

  “It would have been unkind to Reesen to allow him to escort you alone,” Meeya said softly, and drained her cup.

  “Even so. It is Reesen’s love for me which made him the only possible choice as Gawain’s escort from all of us who remained here in Threlland.”

  Elayeen stood, and in so doing, granted Meeya and Valin the opportunity to leave. She walked with them to the door, waited while they bade farewell to Rak and Merrin, then watched them as they rode away across the square, leaving Tarn for the eastern barracks.

  Back in the warmth of the house, she removed her cloak and hung it behind the door of their room. Her room, she corrected herself. Nothing remained here of Gawain, nothing save memories of their first days and nights together, and their last. She closed the door softly, and lay on the bed, drawing a pillow to her, hugging it tightly. And as she had so often of late, she wept silent tears until her breaking heart relented, and she slept.

  oOo

  2. Sharp Things

  “I don’t know how you did it,” Merrin sighed, breath pluming in the frosty morning air.

  “How we did what?” Elayeen frowned, a little confused by the question.

  They were standing alone together in Arramin’s Cabin at the Point, overlooking the farak gorin and its immense and still nameless river gorge, both young ladies wrapped against the cold, the tips of their noses already glowing.

  “How you did it. How you remained so steadfast, down there, in the face of such an immense enemy. How you fought beside them all…” Merrin’s voice faltered a little. “I don’t think I would have had the courage. I think I would’ve been useless, down there.”

  Elayeen shook her head. “G’wain told me of the night he met you and lord Rak, and the attack upon your caravan in the darkest of hours. You were an expectant mother then, and would have slaughtered the brigands single-handed to protect your unborn child had others not relieved you of the necessity. And there’s a plaque set in the floor of the Traveller’s Rest to mark the spot where that treacherous wizard Joyen died. I remember standing beside you there, and you with your dagger poised.”

  Merrin sighed again. “Yet it was your dagger buried in the wizard’s throat, not mine.”

  “Lord Rak stepped in front of you to strike at the traitor.”

  “D’you remember it so clearly, then? For me, it’s a blur, and one I’ve tried hard to forget.”

  “I remember it as clearly as though it were yesterday. It was the day the fog of throth cleared from miheth’s mind, and he was himself, and we were truly together. We walked in the gardens, while General Karn and you and lord Rak remained at the inn, to prepare Threlland’s defences.”

  “It was easy for me to be brave there at the inn, surrounded as I was by warriors and facing only a single threat. Down there, you stood against thousands.” Merrin shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the chill winter breezes.

  “It was easy for me to be brave down there,” Elayeen smiled, giving Merrin back her own words, “I was surrounded by warriors too, and G’wain was beside me, as were many of my friends.”

  “Well. I still don’t know how you did it. And I hope I never have to find out what it is to face such dread.”

  “So do I. War is no place for mothers. They have enough dread to face as it is;
every cough and sneeze, bump, scrape, cut, and cry in the night from their infants.”

  Merrin turned to bestow a quizzical gaze upon her friend, and there was a hint of excitement in her voice when she asked: “Is there something you’re not telling me, Elayeen?”

  Elayeen considered the question a moment, but summer was still far in the distance. “No, it’s not what you think. Just something my own mother taught me long ago when she found my brother Gan and I playing with wooden swords. She didn’t like me fighting.”

  “But you were a tomboy?”

  “Not really. My brother was destined to rule a province, and he of course was expected to learn all manner of warrior’s arts. He needed someone to practice with, and I was convenient.”

  “Ah. Boys are the same everywhere, it seems.”

  Elayeen smiled, childhood memories pressing to the fore. “It is law in our land that all elves must begin practice with the bow from five years of age. I believe I’ve mentioned this before?”

  “Yes, before you all left for Kings’ Council in Ferdan. It seems so long ago, now.”

  “Well, the bow is one thing, swords and knives quite another. It was my brother who insisted I learn how to play with sharp things, and as we both grew older, and perhaps a little wiser, our practicing became rather more serious. Even my mother relented. I think she knew that one day, such skills as I learned from Gan and the thalangard might be needed. Much later in life it was a good excuse for me to visit Gan in his province, and to escape unwanted attentions from would-be suitors in Elvenheth.”

  “And perhaps to deter such attentions?” Merrin smiled.

  Elayeen grinned a little sheepishly. “I may have intimidated one or two, here and there.”

  “Good for you.”

  They shared a gentle silence for a few moments, and then Elayeen felt a familiar, wistful warmth flowing through her.

  “I don’t think G’wain will ever truly understand how profoundly he altered the course of my life. The night I first saw him was for me like the falling of the farak gorin. My world changed forever, in ways he cannot begin to imagine.”