Elfhunter (25 page)

Gaelen grew silent, set her jaw, and fixed her eyes
straight ahead, willing herself into a sort of half trance that no
pain or weariness could assail. She would make it to Mountain-home
with Elethorn on her back if she had to.

Rogond had already seen more hardship than many
mortal men could have endured. He focused on the back of Gaelen’s
head, trying not to think about the way the cord was cutting across
her already- damaged shoulders, or the deep, sickening ache in his
own.

His mind wandered back to the encounter with the
enemy. Gaelen had really come through for them, discovering
Gorgon’s weakness and exploiting it, but he sensed that her spirits
were severely dampened by the incident, and he knew that she was
terribly worried for Nelwyn. He also sensed a deep guilt that had
welled up within her, as though this whole affair had been her
idea, and the outcome was therefore her fault. Gaelen would
probably never forgive herself should Nelwyn die. This would, of
course, have displeased Nelwyn, because she made the choice to
pursue Gorgon and was a willing participant in the search and in
the confrontation. She would not have Gaelen bear this burden, for
it was not hers to bear.

As the afternoon waned and twilight came, Rogond took
a bad step onto a loose stone, his left leg turned from under him,
and he fell hard upon the rocky ground. He lay, panting, head
swimming, as the evening sky wheeled unpleasantly above him.
Gaelen’s anxious face appeared, and when he focused on her
beautiful eyes the world stopped spinning. Galador gently set
Nelwyn down and ran back up the slope to his fallen friends. Rogond
tried to rise, but his body simply would not respond. Elethorn and
Gaelen reassured him, but they had all reached the conclusion that
Rogond had taken his last step for a while. They were now so close
to Mountain-home that perhaps it would be prudent for Galador to go
on with Nelwyn and send back help for the others. It was less
likely that Gorgon would come so near to the Realm of Ordath, where
they could once again hear the rushing waters that flowed forth
from the mountainside.

Elethorn, whose strength had increased with rest and
water, would keep watch over Gaelen and Rogond. They would build no
fire and would need none, for the warmth of spring was in the
southerly breeze that stirred the tall trees, bringing the scent of
growth and burgeoning life. Galador promised to return as quickly
as he could, lifted Nelwyn, who had neither moved nor spoken in
many hours, and disappeared into the grey twilight.

Gaelen shrugged out of the cord that bound her to
Elethorn, grimacing at the deep crease it had made in the flesh
across her chest and shoulders. She somehow made her way to lie
beside Rogond, who was already beyond awareness, his eyes closed,
his breathing shallow and irregular. Her vision blurred with
weariness, so she closed her eyes and the darkness took her out of
the reach of pain. Elethorn lay beside them, taking Gaelen’s cold
hand to warm it, knowing the debt that he owed and vowing to repay
it when he could.

Gaelen awoke to the sound of flowing water and soft,
pleasant voices. She was in a dark, warm place, and although she
did not yet know its name, she knew somehow that it was safe. It
was night, and the lamps were lit, but as she looked up toward the
open roof of her chamber she could see the stars. She tried to sit
up, but this was difficult given the lack of strength in her arms.
Rolling painfully onto her side, she dropped both legs over the
edge of the pallet on which she had been carefully laid and then
jerked her body upright. This was a mistake, as she overbalanced
and fell to the floor, her vision occluded by a black cloud and her
head ringing as she fought to remain conscious. This gained the
immediate attention of two of the Elves of Mountain-home, who
rushed to her side, speaking in soothing voices. They lifted her
with gentle hands and replaced her on the pallet.

Through the darkness that clouded her vision, Gaelen
still managed to ask a few breathless questions. Was she in
Mountain-home? Where was Rogond? Had these people encountered
Galador and Nelwyn? Had they summoned the Lady Ordath? The Elves
did their best to answer, while calming Gaelen as they could. Yes,
she had been brought to Mountain-home along with Rogond and
Elethorn. Galador had arrived with Nelwyn, and the Lady had sent
back rescuers who had borne everyone to safety. Of Nelwyn’s
condition they could not yet tell.

"Rest and recover, for your strength is spent and you
have taken serious hurt. There will be time for questions and
answers from all as you are able. Lady Ordath has not yet tended
you or your friend the Tuathan, for she is occupied with your other
companion. Rest until she comes to you. Then you will learn the
truths you seek."

Gaelen was not satisfied. She wanted to see Rogond
and Nelwyn, and protested even as she was covered with warm, woolen
blankets and given a strengthening liquor from a silver flask. Her
attendants were determined to prevent her from trying to get up
again.

"The Lady Ordath would not be pleased should we allow
you to harm yourself," they said. "You must respect our wishes, and
remain here until she has seen to you. Close your eyes and rest,
for the liquor you just drank also contained a sleeping-draught,
and you will not remain aware for long. Don’t fear, Elf of the
Greatwood. No harm will come to you or your friends." Gaelen
muttered something about the unscrupulous nature of Elves who would
conceal a sleeping- draught and give it to her unaware, just before
she sank once again into the long dark.

Galador sat unmoving beside Nelwyn, who was fighting
for her life. She had worsened during the journey to Mountain-home,
and had barely moved or made a sound for two days and nights. Lady
Ordath, great healer though she was, could do nothing further for
her. This sort of hurt was not of the sort that lay within her
power. If Nelwyn wanted to live, she would have to recover mostly
on her own.

Galador was nearly beside himself with worry, and he
had neither slept nor eaten. He didn’t know whether he could bear
the loss of Nelwyn, just when he had opened his heart and allowed
himself to love again. Now their happiness would be snatched away
before it could take root and grow. No, he decided, it would be
unbearable, and therefore unthinkable. He stayed at her side,
gently stroking her hair and speaking words of comfort. He even
sang a little, but he found he could not keep his voice from
breaking, so he sang no more. She did not respond, but he kept
trying, pouring very small sips of water through her lips every few
minutes. He told her some of his favorite tales, ones he had
learned of old, but she was pale and cold. At times he wept, but
quietly so she would not hear.

He found himself cursing Gaelen and her blind,
headstrong tenacity. Nelwyn had chosen to follow Gaelen on her
obstinate course despite doubts as to the wisdom of it. Were it not
for Gaelen, and Nelwyn’s desire to protect her, they would probably
still be safely in the great forest. Galador came close to wishing
that Gaelen had gone off alone to face Gorgon. Perhaps they would
have killed each other, thus ridding the world of two driven,
self-willed personalities.

He knew this wasn’t really fair. Gaelen had not
anticipated the cleverness and might of this enemy. If she had, she
might have chosen differently. But no, Galador thought, she had
seen Gelmyr. They all had. It did not daunt her that an Elf with
five times her power and experience had fallen victim. She had to
be related to Aincor.
Had
to be.

As Galador sat brooding on these dark thoughts,
Gaelen appeared in the doorway, looking small, pale, and hurt. She
had roused herself, found her clothing, dressed with great
difficulty, and somehow made her way to Nelwyn. She said not a word
to Galador, but crossed to Nelwyn’s bedside and sat nearby, both
hands twisting in her lap. She looked for a moment into Galador’s
eyes and read his thoughts in them:
Do you see what you have
done?

She did not weep, but stared back at him, her message
clear.
You’re right, Galador. This is my doing. I do not blame
you for your thoughts of me.
She turned her attention back to
Nelwyn, who lay unmoving, her eyes sunken and dark, her breathing
slow and shallow. She had been well tended, for all the good it
would do.

Gaelen would make no further eye contact with
Galador, but sat still as stone, her eyes lifeless and miserable.
Though Galador tried to hold on to his resentment, he was not used
to the light being gone from Gaelen’s eyes, and it worried him. She
had encountered a terrible foe and had battled with valor, and were
it not for her they would all have been lost. She had not expected
what had happened to Nelwyn…she had taken the greatest risk upon
herself.

Galador also knew that Gaelen felt quite bad enough
without enmity from him. She probably believed that she had failed
Nelwyn, who was the person she was closest to in the world. Galador
was well acquainted with such feelings, and a wave of sympathy came
over him, quelling some of his animosity.

As though she could sense his thoughts, Gaelen turned
her pale face toward him. Though miserable, she was still proud,
even in the midst of her helplessness. "Do not pity me, Galador.
Give me your ill will, if you wish. I cannot alter my nature, or
whatever fate drives me. I would give anything now to take back the
thing that I said to Nelwyn upon that day when we stood by the
graves of our friends and decided to pursue this Dark Horror. But I
cannot. I can only wish and regret, while enduring the knowledge
that all has been in vain. For all of this, Gorgon Elfhunter is
still free to kill our kind as he will. Keep your pity, Elf of the
Light!"

She dropped her eyes, and both Elves understood each
other. Galador rose and crossed to sit beside Gaelen, laying his
hand very gently on her shoulder, for he knew that otherwise it
would pain her. She accepted the gesture, but did not acknowledge
it, as she was deep in her own thoughts. Galador shook his head in
sorrow. He knew what it was to live with regret and torment. At
that moment, he took back most of his dark thoughts concerning her.
After all, she was deserving of some consideration. Even the
Fire-heart had needed it in the end.

Rogond of the Tuathar had been greeted as a beloved
comrade who returns home after a long journey. He had lived in
Mountain- home for five years, had made many friends, and had
gained the respect of most who came to know him, including Lady
Ordath herself. Now he had slept, with the help of the Elves’
healing elixirs, for two days and nights. His strength was
returning, and his wounds were healing rapidly, for he was a hardy
man. He had met with Lady Ordath and learned that Galador and
Gaelen were watching over Nelwyn. Ordath had questioned Rogond
about their travels, especially about the encounter with Gorgon, as
Galador had been able to provide only a partial account. Rogond had
promised that he would tell all he could, but now he must see to
his friends. Ordath nodded, her wise face solemn.

Soon Rogond was also at Nelwyn’s side, ready to
assist if needed. He did not like the look of Nelwyn either, and he
was not hopeful. He was also concerned about Gaelen and Galador,
neither of whom had rested or eaten. Gaelen, in particular, could
ill afford this, as she was still battle-weary, and her wounds
would not heal until she had gained strength. Her face was drawn,
her eyes held no light, and she did not move or acknowledge
Rogond’s presence.

Gaelen was still thinking of Nelwyn and of the day
they began their pursuit of Gorgon Elfhunter. She had spoken a
single word to Nelwyn then—a word that had set her upon this course
that might well result in her death:

"Thaldallen."

The word, literally translated, meant "steadfast
oak". To understand it, one needed to go back to an incident that
happened when Nelwyn was only sixteen years of age. She had
befriended an attractive, engaging young Elf named Talrodin. He was
handsome and lively, and she adored him. She and Gaelen, who had
been about forty and six at the time, enjoyed roaming the forest
with Talrodin and his older brother Halrodin, who was also quite
likeable. They hunted and gathered, and made merry in the manner of
young Wood-elves.

Nelwyn followed after Talrodin, racing along the edge
of the forest in the deep twilight on her uncle Tarmagil’s great
horse, Anlon. Talrodin was a superb rider, but he could not evade
Nelwyn, who swept around him, snatching from his hand the banner of
his house. She urged Anlon to pull away in front of Talrodin,
looking back over her shoulder and laughing.

She did not see the shadowy, dark figures that rose
up suddenly on either side of her, pulling taut a fine rope between
them. The figures braced themselves as the great horse, running
full tilt into the rope, was neatly tripped and sent flying onto
the grass, throwing Nelwyn hard against the ground. Talrodin pulled
up in alarm and called Nelwyn’s name in panic, for he had seen only
that her mount had fallen. The tall grass was suddenly alive with
fierce, snarling Ulcas who rushed toward him.

Talrodin saw them drag Nelwyn into the forest, but he
could do nothing alone against such a horde. He turned and fled,
his mount flying as fast as she could, and the Ulcas were denied a
second captive. But they had Nelwyn, and Talrodin knew that she was
doomed unless he could rescue her in the immediate future. His only
hope came in the knowledge that sometimes Ulcas were instructed to
take Elven captives to be delivered alive to Lord Wrothgar, the
Shadowmancer, for purposes unknown. If that was the fate that
awaited Nelwyn it was the blackest imaginable, but at least it
would buy time.