Elfhunter (26 page)

He almost literally ran into his brother Halrodin,
who was following with Gaelen, intending to spend the evening
watching the stars once they caught up with their friends. Talrodin
told them in a panicked, desperate voice of what had befallen
Nelwyn. There was no one to aid them, and they would have to act at
once. They tracked the Ulcas as carefully as they could, turning
Talrodin’s mare loose, instructing her to return to the stables.
Anlon had been killed and dismembered where he had fallen. The
Ulcas would feast well this night.

The Elves finally caught up with the Ulcas as dawn
was breaking. Nelwyn had been taken south through the deep forest
to a clearing near a small stream where grew a great oak, standing
alone, believed to be the oldest and tallest in the forest. The
Elves called it Thaldallen, and it was a venerable landmark. Nelwyn
had been bound tightly to it and gagged so that she could not cry
out. The Ulcas were sheltering from the sun in the surrounding
undergrowth, but watchers had been set. The Elves counted about
fifteen of the enemy, but in fact there were eighteen. Gaelen and
the brothers had about thirty arrows between them.

Their greatest fear was that Nelwyn would be slain
before she could be rescued, as they did not yet know what was
planned for her. They crept quietly around the group of Ulcas,
taking up various positions where they had reasonably clear
targets. Nelwyn heard several "bird calls" emanating from the
forest that were not made by any bird of Alterra. Her spirits rose,
knowing that her friends were near, for though she feared for them
she now hoped desperately for rescue. The first arrows flew, and
before the Ulcas could gain their feet, each Elf had taken three.
That left nine to contend with, six of which rushed toward the
source of the arrows while drawing their own weapons and shooting
into the undergrowth. Several near misses forced Talrodin into the
open, and as Gaelen tried to draw the attention of the enemy from
him, Halrodin made toward Nelwyn. She was surrounded by three of
the remaining Ulcas, who were now intent on making an end of
her.

Halrodin had drawn his sword, and he leaped into the
fray with a ferocious yell. He was skilled with a blade, large and
strong, and more than a match for the Ulcas, who have not the size,
speed or strength of Elves. Still, there were three of them, and
they were fairly adept. Halrodin was hard put to deal with all of
them together. He slew two of them after several moments of fierce
fighting, but his heart sank as he turned to regard the third
standing with its blade at Nelwyn’s throat. Intentions were clear:
if Halrodin didn’t back off, she would die.

Halrodin was instructed to throw his sword into the
brush, and he did so despite Nelwyn’s shaking her head in anxious
protest. The Ulca then told Halrodin to lie down with his hands
clasped behind his head. This Halrodin did, though his eyes never
left the enemy. Laughing in a hideous, malicious manner, the Ulca
told Halrodin that he had been deceived, and Nelwyn closed her eyes
in anticipation of having her neck slashed. But the stroke never
fell.

Two arrows, one with white fletching and one with
black, cut through the air. The first struck the Ulca’s sword hand,
knocking the blade free even as the second buried itself in the
Ulca’s throat. Gaelen and Talrodin ran into the clearing and cut
Nelwyn from the massive trunk of Thaldallen. Her knees gave way,
for she was very young and had been through a terrible ordeal. She
had indeed been destined for the Black Flame; a worse fate they
could not imagine! Talrodin and Halrodin, together with Gaelen, had
saved her from that fate at great risk to themselves. Thus, when
Gaelen had spoken the name of the great oak as they stood by the
remains of the two gallant brothers, who had been true and lifelong
friends, Nelwyn could offer no argument to the pursuit of their
killer. She remembered their courage and sacrifice so long ago.

Gaelen would have given anything to take back the
mention of Thaldallen. She had spoken it knowing that Nelwyn could
not refuse her. Now, Nelwyn had certainly paid any debt she might
have owed. Gaelen sensed that her closest friend was held to the
world only by the slenderest of threads, and if that thread broke,
Gaelen would have only herself to blame.

Rogond was losing hope that Nelwyn would recover. Her
breathing had slowed so much that each one led to anxious moments
until the next finally came. Galador died a little each time;
Rogond had never seen him look so careworn. Rogond was also
terribly concerned for Gaelen, who had not moved in several hours.
She had not been caring for herself at all, and she now sat upon
the floor at Nelwyn’s right side, knees drawn up before her,
staring unblinking through eyes that Rogond now regarded with
alarm. He knelt beside her, took her chin in his hands, and raised
her gaze to his. His heart sank as he looked into her lifeless
eyes. They were glassy, unfocused, and dead. Though Gaelen was
still breathing, and her body technically still living, she was not
there.

Nelwyn looked down with wonder at her own hands,
which seemed now to glow with a cool, soft light. She did not know
this place; a thick grey mist enveloped everything so that she
could not see. She could still hear Galador’s voice, and she
perceived the desperate sorrow in it, but it grew fainter with each
moment that passed. Soon, she would be unable to hear him at all.
She took a few tentative steps, and as she did so the wind rose, or
at least it seemed so, for she felt a pull at her clothing and
heard the soft sighing of the breeze as it lifted her golden
hair.

With her next step the breeze grew stronger. She
could hear other sounds as well, but she could not identify them.
Were they voices? She felt a great desire to move toward them. As
she took her next step, the strange land grew darker, as though
building to a storm, though she still could see nothing through the
mist. She was not frightened and was no longer in pain. The
struggle had been so hard just a short while ago, yet now she
breathed with no effort, and seemed feather-light as she took
another few steps through the darkening mist. Her own inner light
glowed ever brighter in the gloom. What was this place?

The pull of the wind grew greater, and the voices
more clear. Behind her, there was nothing. She could no longer hear
Galador, but she was transfixed, and it did not distress her.
Another step and the wind rose yet higher, pulling her toward the
voices. But one voice drifted from behind. It was small, yet
insistent. Nelwyn paused, and turned to look over her right
shoulder, her hair blown back. Whose voice was this, calling her
name so that she could not ignore it? She stood now against the
pull of the wind, listening.

The voice called again:
Nelwyn, daughter of Elwyn,
beloved of Galador, and protector of things that grow in the earth,
stay your flight from those who love you!
It was Gaelen’s
voice, and she was drawing nearer. Nelwyn turned all the way
around, despite the persistent forces pulling at her, and beheld a
radiant red-orange glow that pierced the swirling darkness of the
mist. Her cousin appeared a few moments later, leaning into the
wind, her inner light flaming around her. It seemed that the forces
drawing Nelwyn were battling Gaelen, for her thick, tousled hair
blew back from her face, and her cloak was torn back from her
shoulders.

Gaelen! What are you doing here? I sense you
should not tread this way with me.
Nelwyn’s own light flared
blue-white as she said this, as though confirming her intuition.
Whatever forces were drawing her, she was being directed to a
destination where Gaelen could not go. Gaelen’s outline was
wavering and indistinct, as though she gave off tremendous heat.
Her eyes blazed as she reached out, trying to take Nelwyn’s
hand.

You go to the end of your life, and I came to return
you to those who love you. Find your strength and come back with
me. You can do it!

Nelwyn stared at her, mesmerized, but the pull of the
tempest at her back became so intense that she knew she could not
stand against it for long. The cacophony of voices mingled with the
roar of the wind and swelled to a deafening pitch. Nelwyn shook her
head sadly at Gaelen.

I cannot go back with you, for I am called to the
Far Shores. My time has come, and I must go where I am bidden.
She turned her face back toward the voices, and her inner light
dimmed.

You must not leave Galador! He will grieve forever
and never love again! There was a dark doom upon his heart until
you came—I sensed it. You have healed him from hurts so deep that
he would dwell ever in the dark without you, yet you would now
leave him without even a fight? Take my hand—I will aid you!
Gaelen raised her voice to be heard over the dark grey gale that
tore at Nelwyn and stretched her hand out, burning as though with
fire. When Nelwyn turned her face back toward her, Gaelen saw her
eyes fill with tears. She reached out to Gaelen and took her hand,
feeling the heat wash over her, and the wind and the voices
ceased.

They found themselves standing in a misty silence
now, almost floating, hands still locked together. The light that
had surrounded them was nearly gone, only the dimmest flicker
illuminated their faces. Gaelen did not understand what had
happened, but she didn’t care. She was bent on bringing Nelwyn
back, and the thought of failure had not even entered her mind.

Gaelen had actually been gone for some time when
Rogond discovered her near-lifeless state. He looked desperately up
at Galador, still holding Gaelen’s face in his hands. Galador
regarded Rogond with concern.

"What is it? What’s the matter with her?"

Rogond shook his head. He did not yet know. "She is
not with us, Galador. I do not know where she has gone, but she is
not with us." Galador crossed to Rogond and knelt beside him,
examining Gaelen for himself. What he saw made him draw back in
alarm. Gaelen’s eyes still reacted to light, but there was no
spirit behind them. Rogond took her in his arms, despairing at the
stiffness and coldness of her skin against his, almost as though
she were made of wood. "She is dying," said Galador. "We need Lady
Ordath." Surely, Ordath would be able to put her right. Rogond had
been prepared to lose Nelwyn and to deal with Galador’s grief, or
so he thought. But the thought of losing Gaelen had not really
entered his mind until now. His eyes implored Galador, who rose and
went to seek the help of the Elves of Mountain-home.

Lady Ordath was found and brought to them. She
entered to find Galador once again beside Nelwyn as Rogond called
in vain to Gaelen, trying to revive her. Gaelen’s dead eyes stared
at the carved ceiling as Ordath bent over her, studying her with
grave intensity. She searched the anxious face of Rogond and
realized the depth of his feelings, for she was very wise in the
ways of the attractions that could sometimes arise between Elves
and men.

She shook her head. "Your affection for her is
ill-fated, Rogond. Still, it is deep, and I sorrow for you. This
will be a difficult night." Then she examined Nelwyn, turned to
Galador, and confirmed his worst fears.

"Nelwyn is leaving us. She has not long until her
last breath."

Galador’s face was set, but Rogond knew he struggled
to keep his strength at this news. "Is there no hope? Nothing that
can restore her?" Galador’s voice broke as he asked this question,
because he knew the answer already.

Ordath spoke quietly to Galador. "Everything in our
power has been done. I have seen far less take those I would have
thought stronger; the fact that Nelwyn remains here is a tribute to
her strength of will. But her best and only hope now rests with the
one who wanders in shadow with her."

She turned to Rogond. "That is where Gaelen has gone.
She is trying to keep Nelwyn here against the directive of fate. If
she cannot, and Nelwyn’s strength fails, it is likely that neither
will return."

Both Rogond and Galador tried to grasp the full
meaning of Ordath’s words. Rogond closed his eyes and clung to
Gaelen’s now graceless form, trying to reach out to her in thought.
But the door was closed, and she could not hear him. He opened his
eyes again and addressed Ordath with calm stoicism. "I can do
nothing?"

"She has gone where you cannot aid her," Ordath
replied. "She is determined to bring Nelwyn back, or to follow her.
I do not know Gaelen well, but from Galador’s thoughts concerning
her, I sense that she will not accept failure. And the alternative
to failure, in this case, is death. Hold on to her, and if the time
comes, you may yet aid her. I cannot know as yet."

She turned to Galador and spoke to him in sympathy,
though her gentle rebuke was clear. "Gaelen’s devotion to Nelwyn is
strong indeed. You must rid your heart of the unworthy thoughts you
have held toward her—this hurt is Gorgon’s doing. Without Gaelen to
hold her here, Nelwyn will surely leave you. They both possess
great inner strength, but they will need more before the end. Let’s
hope that Gaelen is as persuasive as she is tenacious."

Galador’s face reddened as he recalled his resentment
of Gaelen. His eyes were unnaturally bright as he faced Ordath.
"How may I aid her?"

"Remain vigilant, Galador, for the opportunity may
yet come," said Ordath, who knew that Galador and Rogond might well
be able to assist Gaelen when the time was right. "I will remain
with you until this ends, whatever happens." She made her way to
sit beside Galador and fixed her gaze upon Nelwyn’s pale face,
awaiting the inevitable.

Gaelen and Nelwyn stood together in the darkness, as
the wind began to rise again. Nelwyn appreciated this last
opportunity to speak with her cousin, as she knew that she must
soon follow to the land of her forebears, and nothing would detain
her. Even as Gaelen tried to persuade her, she had closed her mind.
She was so weary, and the promise of rest was too strong.