Elfhunter (55 page)

"We are being pursued by a host of about thirty Elves
from Tal- sithian. They do not know that we are aware of them as
yet." Gorgon scanned the surrounding countryside. It was full of
hiding-places, and he knew it well. "I have a plan in mind that
will surprise them most unpleasantly. Listen well, and then get
these vermin moving. We do not have much time."

Kharsh listened to Gorgon’s idea, which, he had to
admit, was inspired. He bowed to his commander, and then hurried to
carry out his orders. This was going to be most enjoyable. Though
Kharsh did not burn with hatred of anything, he did not love the
Elves, and he was looking forward to the looks on their astonished
faces. Gorgon instructed his army to leave several alive, for he
wanted to deal personally with them. Soon the trap was set, and the
Ulcas lay in wait, their archers at the ready.

The Elves appeared as the afternoon waned and evening
approached. The Ulcas had been hunkered down for several hours. The
sign they had left for the Elves to follow was clear, but the Elves
had to make up a lot of ground to catch up with them and were
approaching with caution. Gorgon trembled as he first caught sight
of them. He had let it be known that any under his command who did
not show proper restraint and alerted the Elves to their presence
would soon breathe his last, hence the Ulcas remained in complete
concealment as their wary yet obliging victims walked into the
trap.

When the last of the Elves had passed the appropriate
point, the rearmost archers loosed their bows. This was the signal
for the others to do likewise, and before the startled Elves could
react they were felled from all directions. At least twelve
perished in that first volley. The others had drawn their bows, but
alas, the Ulcas were well protected in their rocky hiding places.
Many more fine archers fell quickly, and their blood flowed red
upon the ground as the Ulcas drew their blades and engaged those
who remained. The Elves were now vastly outnumbered and were
rapidly overcome. Six were left alive and brought before Gorgon,
who was delighted to view their pained, hopeless faces as he
instructed the Ulcas to tie them securely and hang them from the
branches of nearby trees.

Gorgon then walked among them, savoring their pain
and terror, enduring their proud glance. He explained how he had
trapped them. Gorgon’s folk had proceeded quite some way north
before separating into two groups, one moving east and one moving
west. They had circled back and set this trap for the Elves, who
simply followed their trail north unaware that they had deviated
from it in any way. "I do not blame you for having been so easily
taken, proud Elves of Tal-sithian. You were expecting ordinary
Ulcas, not those under the command of Gorgon Elfhunter!"

At this he removed his helmet, releasing his golden
hair. The Elves despaired at the sight of him, for they had learned
of his origins, and at least one had known Brinneal, his mother.
This only seemed to enrage him.

"I will not be pitied by the likes of you!" he roared
at them. "Only your hatred will I take. And you shall have an equal
measure of mine." So saying, he drew Turantil, which he wielded
like a butcher’s knife, and spent the next several minutes
inflicting as much pain as possible upon the Elves who still lived.
Kharsh watched this with fascination, as did the other remaining
Ulcas in the Company. By the time Gorgon had finished with them,
the Elves were in agony, no doubt longing for death.

Kharsh had learned one thing from this experience:
the Shadowmancer had saddled him with a fearsome task. Gorgon was a
force beyond many in his long experience. Yet Kharsh felt a
foreboding deep within—this consuming hatred his new commander felt
for the Elves would be his undoing somehow. Kharsh would have to be
very, very careful. Gorgon was a master at inflicting pain and
would feel no qualms at all about inflicting it upon anyone who
displeased him. This lesson was not lost on Kharsh or on any others
of the Black Command.

When the order to depart came, the Ulcas quickly
gathered their provisions, moving north once more, leaving the
dying Elves to suffer until their end came. As Kharsh heard the
last of their agonized cries drifting behind him on the wind, he
felt a most disturbing surge of emotion that might almost have been
pity. For one such as Kharsh, that, indeed, was saying
something.

The Lady Arialde had summoned the Lord Airan, for her
mind’s eye had revealed things that were disturbing, and she had
need of his counsel. She turned to him, eyes full of sorrow.

"The enemy has taken our people…none of those we sent
in pursuit of him will return. I hear their cries drifting upon an
ill wind that blows from the Darkmere, and I have sent the Company
upon its way to complete a task that I fear is beyond them, though
my heart tells me otherwise."

Airan was dismayed at her pronouncement, but then he
answered her: "Trust your heart, for it has always spoken true,
even when your mind says otherwise. If your heart would have faith
in these souls that have been set upon this path, then that faith
is well placed."

Arialde sighed. Lord Airan’s gentle words had
reassured her, yet she remained troubled. While it was true that
her heart held much faith in the Company, her mind recalled that
which the Stone had revealed, and she knew the sorrow that would be
visited upon them by Gorgon was just beginning.

As night fell, the Company prepared to rest. Fima,
Rogond, and Thorndil saw to the fires, as the Elves busied
themselves with caring for the horses and in general making
themselves useful. Now that the group numbered fifteen, they felt
that there was little to fear in this country, though they would
still keep a watchful eye. It would be rare for any but the most
determined or foolhardy Ulcas to attack such a large and well-armed
company of Elves, even after sundown. Soon they were relaxing in
small groups, eating and drinking, but the overall mood was rather
subdued.

Gaelen rose and walked west, toward the setting of
the moon, until she was far away from the firelight. Climbing a
tall tree, she settled back to look up at the brilliant stars,
which blazed so brightly that her heart ached with longing for
them. If only she could share this vision with someone. Of course,
her beloved Rain had shared them with her on a time, and she willed
with all her strength that he might once again behold them. She
called to him, but he did not answer. The realm in which his spirit
resided was closed to her.

At that moment, Gorgon Elfhunter looked deep into the
mirror. For a moment he swayed as the usual wave of pain shot
through his body, making him shudder. Then his vision came
suddenly, filling his world with a field of brilliant stars. He had
never seen such incredible beauty! He was completely rapt, and
stared at them in spite of himself, hardly daring to breathe. He
heard Gaelen muttering in her soft, clear voice:

"If only you could know how beautifully the stars
burn tonight… if only you could feel the longing in my heart for
them… and for you."

"But…I
do
feel it," Gorgon muttered in reply,
though he was not aware of doing so. His eyes were closed now, for
he concentrated entirely upon the brilliant field of silver lights
that wheeled above him. "Such beautiful lights…so bright…so cold.
Like cold fire burning for eternity…."

At that moment, Kharsh approached. He cleared his
throat, trying to gain Gorgon’s attention without offending or
startling him. Gorgon’s eyes jerked open, and he quickly concealed
the mirror in its leather pouch. The beautiful stars vanished, as
did the sound of Gaelen’s voice. Gorgon looked bewildered for a
moment, then his own eyes focused on Kharsh and the familiar
contempt returned to them.

"What do you want? I thought I told you never to
disturb me while I am spying on the Elves. You had best have good
reason for doing so."

He advanced on Kharsh, menacing him. To his credit
Kharsh stood his ground, though he was justifiably afraid.

"Please, my lord…I understand little of
Elven-tongues. May I speak plainly? My folk are wanting to make
time as the moon has set and it is a cool, dark night. We really do
not enjoy traveling in sunlight, and the Elves will stop to rest by
night, for they are mounted, and their horses require rest. Should
we make ready to move on?"

"Yes, good idea. But don’t let them think they will
not have to travel by day. I mean to keep up with those accursed
Elves, though they are mounted and we are not. Tell the rabble to
make ready. We move on within the hour."

Kharsh bowed and left Gorgon to gather his few
possessions. When he had done so, Gorgon paused, recalling his
vision of the stars and his reaction to it. When he looked
heavenward now, he saw only an ordinary night sky—unremarkable, and
certainly not worthy of the ecstasy it had engendered in him a few
moments ago. When seen through the eyes of the Wood-elf, however…
He was momentarily alarmed. What was happening to him? How was it
that he had felt such longing when he looked through her eyes? He
had better guard himself more carefully from now on, lest he become
more and more alike to his mother’s kin. He could not bear the
thought of it! Even more alarming—he shared her vision even when
his own eyes were closed. He did not even need to look into the
mirror anymore, but only to hold it in his hand. The connection
between them was becoming stronger.

What had the She-elf been saying at the end? "Cold…so
cold, like death, like being forever alone…."

He did not understand her meaning. Perhaps she
referred to the coldness of the fiery lights, burning everlastingly
in the heavens. Perhaps she referred to the coldness of her own
heart—Gorgon did not know.

The truth was that at that moment Gaelen had been
overcome with the chill of Gorgon’s presence, as she nearly always
did when he was looking through her eyes. She had wished to share
the stars with someone, and she had unwittingly done so, but her
heart had been nearly overwhelmed with loneliness. Had she felt
this emanating from Gorgon, who was surely one of the most lonely
souls yet living? Or was it in fact the coldness and loneliness of
her own life, her life without Rain, without the love that had once
so filled her heart? She could not know the answer, even as Gorgon
could not.

Gaelen stopped shivering as she clasped the largest
tree-branch with both arms. It was warm and smooth, and she felt
its vitality as she laid her cheek against it. Her tears came
freely then, and she wept for several minutes. Her thoughts were
released by those tears: fear of what the future would bring as
well as the horror of what had already come to pass.

She held a fleeting vision of the lifeless eyes of
Farahin, heard his voice calling to her as his spirit faded, but
she could not bear it and drew her long dagger from the sheath
without thinking, slicing into the flesh of one of her slender arms
and crying in pain. This effectively banished the visions from her
mind, bringing her world back into focus, and as she gripped her
arm, gritting her teeth, she heard Rogond’s voice calling her name.
He sounded frightened...no doubt he had heard her cry and was now
searching for her.

She climbed down from her perch to find him running
toward her in alarm. "Why did you wander off ? I have been worried
for you. What happened to your arm?" He took it tenderly in his
hands and examined it. "This will need healing. What happened?"

"I cut myself with one of my daggers. It was
unintentional, and the cut is not deep. I shall have to be more
careful," she replied. Rogond knelt before her, trying to get her
to look at him.

"You’ve been crying," he observed. "What troubles
you? Please, tell me. I want to help."

She allowed him to hold her then, but she would not
tell him why she had wept, for she could not find words to express
what she had been feeling. She only knew that she felt more secure
in his arms than she had since the quest began. Now she wished only
to keep silent as he rocked her gently, stroking her hair as tears
flowed again from her bright eyes, dampening Rogond’s tunic,
wrenching his heart.

There were other troubled hearts that night in the
encampment. Galador kept mulling over the parting words of Lady
Arialde, and he did not understand their meaning. Nelwyn, who lay
beside him, was yet troubled by the visions she had held in the
Stone, especially that of the object in Gorgon’s hand, a thing that
somehow bound his fate to that of Gaelen.

Her dearest friend and cousin had been overtaken by a
deep melancholy, one that not even Fima could assuage. Was Gorgon
somehow reaching into her mind, wearing her down? Nelwyn could not
say. She wondered whether she should share this vision with
Galador, or with Rogond. But she could not bring doubt upon Gaelen,
and that vision would surely do so. Nelwyn resolved to wait until
her course was made plain, until revealing the vision truly became
necessary.

Amandir was bent with silent weeping, as he had done
often since Gorgon had surfaced. He was going out to hunt and slay
the abomination whose creation had resulted in the death of his
beloved Brinneal—a creature of which he had only recently been made
aware. He could not imagine the abject horror Brinneal had suffered
at the hands of the Shadowmancer. He remembered the day she went
missing; he had rarely left her alone, as she was newly with child,
and she had chided him for it.

"I’m only going out to enjoy the air and the feel of
the grass on my feet, and to gather lily-bulbs for the garden. You
would think I was going into some terrible peril," she had said,
laughing musically and tossing her golden hair at him.

"I shall go and help you to gather them," he had
replied, hoping that she would accept his company, though he knew
she would think him foolish for worrying so.