Elfhunter (10 page)

"There’s not much to tell, really," he said, his grey
eyes shadowed by regret. "I don’t know who my parents were, or
whether I have any family yet living. I know my mother was killed
by Ulcas when I was just a baby…she was running from the Plague
that had overrun Dûn Bennas."

"I have heard the stories," said Gaelen. "It must
have been terrible!"

"It was," said Rogond. "I can only assume that the
rest of my family was felled by it…there were so few who lived. It
spared no one—noble or journeyman, mother or child—it swept through
the settlements of men like a wildfire. I was fostered by the Elves
of the Verdant Mountains, who found me tucked away in a crevice of
rock. Apparently, my mother hid me there before the Ulcas
overwhelmed her. The Elves found this ring on what was left of her
finger—it’s the only thing of my family that I possess." He showed
the ring to Gaelen, who admired it appropriately.

"This is of Dwarf-make," she said. "It’s very
beautiful, though rather massive for a woman’s ring." She gave it
back to Rogond, who replaced it on the smallest finger of his right
hand. "It looks perfect on you, though," Gaelen added, not wishing
to offend him. He smiled back at her.

"Well, that explains why you are so fluent in
Elven-speech," said Gaelen, after a rather awkward silence. "So, if
you grew up among the Elves, why are you not with them now? Did you
offend someone?

Did you grow weary of their company?"

"Not shy of asking personal questions, are you?" said
Rogond good-naturedly. "Since you ask, I didn’t
exactly
offend anyone…I was just behaving as any normal young man
would."

Gaelen looked puzzled at first, then her eyes grew
wide and she drew in a quick, sharp breath, lowering her voice to
just above a whisper. "Did you cast your young man’s eyes upon a
She-elf ?"

Rogond stared at her for a moment, seeing she was
deadly serious. Then his face split in a broad grin, and he
laughed. "You are remarkably perceptive for a hunter-scout."

"What
happened
?"

"Well, I had already learned so many things from the
Elves—I had learned that I was mortal, that I would age and die,
that I could get sick…that was a particularly difficult blow."

Gaelen nodded. She could only imagine. "But, what did
they do to you when you cast your eyes on their daughters? They
didn’t drive you out or anything…did they?"

"They decided that I needed to learn my place, and
that it wasn’t in the Verdant Mountains. They sent me to
Mountain-home to be educated, hoping that Lady Ordath could reunite
me with others of my race. Mountain-home is a place where people of
every sort gather to learn. It was a good idea."

"It got you away from their daughters," said Gaelen.
"I’m sure they thought it was a grand idea. But why did they not
just send you to Dûn Bennas, if your people came from there?"

"I am Tuathan. I guess they thought I would be more
at home among the Northmen. There aren’t very many of us left—only
a small remnant still wanders in the North, and I am now one of
them, a ranger sworn to defend the Light. I spent years studying
and learning at the Sanctuary, and they were very happy years. I
loved especially learning languages and lore. Even Ordath herself
said I had a knack for it. When she finally introduced me to the
rangers, they knew me as one of their own. I learned a lot from
them, as well."

Gaelen nodded, her face solemn. She had met a few of
the rangers when they passed through the Greatwood, which was not
often. They were inclined to be rather grim and serious, and they
followed a strict warrior code. With enough ale, however, they
could be quite good-humored. Wrothgar hated them, and that was
enough endorsement for Gaelen.

"I met Galador on…well, let’s say it was an
interesting day," said Rogond with a bemused expression. "We’ve
been friends for, ohhh, six years at least, and we’ve had some
adventures! But I’ll save those tales for another time. You must
tell me more of yourself, as well. It should be an interesting ride
back to the Greatwood."

"Perhaps later," said Gaelen. "Thank you for trusting
me with your story. It was well told." As she sheathed her blade,
which was now sharp enough to split the bristles on a cricket’s
belly, she considered what he had told her. It was obvious that he
longed to know more of his origins; she could hear it in his voice.
It made her sad, really. He probably had little hope of answering
any of the questions that troubled him, as most of those who had
known of him would have been lost to the horror of the Plague.

Rogond handed her a perfect, straight arrow shaft,
and as she began the work of fitting and finishing it, he asked her
again to tell of her own beginnings. She smiled and shook her
head.

"Perhaps later, Tuathan. My beginnings take some time
to tell, and I sense that your tale has worn you out. Why not lie
by the fire, and I will sing to you so that you may take rest. It
appears that Nelwyn and Galador are keeping the watch tonight."

So saying, she moved to the fireside with him, and he
rested while she sang of the Elves and the men of Tuathas, and of
the great friendship between them.

Rogond rested for yet another day, and the Elves
looked to replenishing their provisions as best they could. They
now had plenty of arrows, which cheered Gaelen, as she had the
feeling they would be needed before she would see King Ri-Aruin’s
halls. Food was another matter. There was little to be gleaned
here, even if one ventured into this part of the forest, which lay
a good ten leagues west of the river. They still had some stores
left from Galador’s pack, but the going would be lean until Gaelen
and Nelwyn drew closer to home. This did not concern the Elves, for
they did not require much to keep their strength; but Rogond, who
was still recovering, needed fuel.

When Nelwyn and Galador returned from foraging, they
carried an assortment of roots, herbs, and tubers. Gaelen had
obtained game in the form of a large bird—dark-bodied, with a
broad, iridescent tail and naked, wrinkled red face. It was tough
and stringy, but delicious! The tubers, roots, and herbs were
roasted together among the coals and made a reasonable
accompaniment for the meat. Rogond ate all he could hold and was
soon asleep again.

In the morning they resumed their journey. There were
two roads that ran from west to east across the forest, but the
Elves would not take them, as they went too far to the south of
Ri-Aruin’s domain and were no longer safe. Besides, Galador and
Rogond had the best possible guides. As they rode they kept silent,
saving the telling of tales for the evening fire. Then they would
all be entertained with some of their favorite legends, such the
trials of the great warrior Aincor Fire-heart, and the love of
Shandor the magic-user for Liathwyn of the Èolar. As Galador told
of the terrible events brought about by Aincor, Rogond reflected
that it takes far less time to acquire skill and knowledge than it
takes to acquire real wisdom.

Sometimes they would tell tales of their own
experiences, as well. Rogond and Galador spoke of their adventures
in the far north, where evil creatures were now abroad in large
numbers. Galador was the only one among them to have actually seen
a winged dragon, and he spoke of the encounter which, though
distant, was nonetheless frightening. He spoke also of the Bödvari,
captains of Wrothgar, and their terrible power. These were chilling
tales, and Gaelen and Nelwyn shuddered as they sat side by side,
the firelight flickering in their large, bright eyes.

At last they came to the path through the forest that
was made and maintained by the people of Ri-Aruin. Even with the
trees not in full leaf, the Greatwood looked dark and forbidding.
They had over a hundred- fifty miles to go through it to reach the
halls of the King, but mounted they could average at least twenty
miles a day, and the Elves could easily do this on foot. Gaelen and
Nelwyn took charge as they entered the forest, with Nelwyn scouting
ahead and Gaelen bringing up the rear. Every so often, Nelwyn would
climb up and have a look around, but she saw nothing
disturbing.

Rogond was thankful for their company, especially at
night. It was so very dark that it unnerved him at times, for the
ancient oaks still held their brown winter leaves. The Elves,
however, always seemed to be able to find places to camp over which
the stars were clearly visible. The oaks gave way to maples and
beeches as they drew nearer to the Elvenhold, and the woodland
became lighter and more welcoming. Gaelen and Nelwyn relaxed their
vigilance somewhat, for their enemy was nowhere near to trouble
them, and they were confident that the familiar perils of the
Darkmere would not assail them unaware.

At such times they would sing together, to Rogond’s
delight. All three Elves had fine voices and sang songs of such
beauty and harmony that occasionally he found himself with moist
eyes, heart aching to hear more. Once in a while they became a bit
over-merry, setting words to some of the songs that were never
intended by their original composers. These Gaelen and Nelwyn found
uproarious and, try as Galador might to keep his serious
expression, he broke into laughter right along with them. Rogond
was amused; he was unused to seeing three of these generally
dignified folk shaking with laughter at their own silly humor,
which he admittedly did not quite understand. Though he had been
raised among them, and probably knew as much of them as any mortal
man, they were still of different mind from himself.

The intuition that Gaelen would need her arrows was
proven correct on the fourth day, as they approached the crossing
of a swift, cold-water creek that was wide, but not deep. The
Wood-elves made their way north along the bank, until they came to
a place where the crossing would be easier.

"This place is sometimes under watch by enemies; we
must make certain it is safe," said Nelwyn, as she and Gaelen
disappeared into the underbrush. They circled the area, scouting it
while Galador and Rogond remained with Eros and Réalta. For a time
the two She-elves vanished entirely, leaving Galador and Rogond to
wonder what had befallen them, when they suddenly reappeared from
behind, startling Rogond into drawing his blade. Gaelen gave him a
wry smile as he sheathed it again, shaking his head and looking
somewhat annoyed. "We have thoroughly explored the area near the
clearing, and found no sign of danger," she said. "We think it’s
safe to try to cross. It is best if the horses attempt this with
but one rider, so Nelwyn and I will cross on foot." Gaelen turned
up the tops of her worn, brown boots as she spoke, lacing them
about her thighs, and then waded into the swift water without
another word.

"I won’t hear of it," said Galador. "My lady, please
accept the offer of dry passage." He bowed before Nelwyn, gesturing
toward Réalta.

Nelwyn’s ears reddened and she shook her head, a shy
smile on her face. Galador then did something quite
uncharacteristically foolish; he waded into the shallows and
promptly sat down, his eyes widening as the icy water washed over
him to the waist.

"Ahhh…refreshing!" he said, while trying to keep his
teeth from chattering. "Now, since I am already wet, does it not
make sense for me to wade, and for you to ride?"

Gaelen and Nelwyn looked at each other. Gaelen rolled
her eyes and chuckled, gesturing toward Réalta as Galador had done.
"Well, go on, my lady, you heard him! Hopefully the horse has more
sense than he does."

They were nearly half-way across when Nelwyn first
noticed the disturbance in the water. It was difficult to see
because of the swift flow, but when she looked harder she beheld a
roiling mass that was moving against the current. Gaelen was
picking her way carefully, trying not to allow the water to wash
over the tops of her boots, when she heard a cry of alarm from
Nelwyn.

"
AIYAH
! Úlfar are coming! Gaelen, Galador, get
out of the water, quickly! Gaelen…Úlfar are coming!"

Galador and Rogond looked at one another. They had
not heard of such things, yet Nelwyn was terrified. She put her
hand down to hoist Galador up, crying with fear. Gaelen had drawn
her blades, shouting up at Rogond:

"Whatever you do, do not place any part of yourself
in the water! One bite from these, and you are dead! We are much
harder for them to kill…stay on your horse!"

The roiling mass was upon them even as Galador tried
to swing aboard Réalta. He could not do so, both because of the
water pulling at his legs and the unsteadiness of his mount, who
was now surrounded by a writhing tangle of what appeared to be very
slimy snakes. They were pinkish-grey and eyeless, with sharp teeth
encased in a sucker-like mouth surrounded by long, fleshy feelers.
They turned the water around them into a mire of slime, and the
horses struggled against their tangling flesh and the thick, gluey
morass in which they now found themselves.

Gaelen yelled fiercely as she swung her blades. The
slime made piercing or cutting the Úlfar more difficult, still the
water was bloodied about her.

"Keep the horses on their feet, no matter what!" she
cried, drawing her bow and sending a swift arrow into the mass of
Úlfar, which scattered temporarily.

"
Galador!
" cried Nelwyn as she saw the tall
Elf fall to his knees, now up to his chest in the thick,
unspeakable mire. It was like jelly; though the cold current tore
at it, still it clung to the legs of the horses and to poor
Galador, who went under quickly.

Gaelen and Nelwyn leaped to his aid, still shouting
at Rogond to stay aboard Eros. The powerful horse was heavier and
steadier than Réalta, but he was alarmed at the tangle of Úlfar and
threw his head in the air, snorting, as Rogond tried to calm him
and make his way shoreward. He looked back, horrified, as he saw
Gaelen and Nelwyn pull Galador to his feet. There were at least
four of the vile things attached to Gaelen’s bare arms and twice
that number upon Galador’s neck, arms, and chest. Nelwyn threw
Galador’s arm around Réalta’s neck and urged the horse from the
water as Gaelen struggled after her. She had stopped trying to kill
the Úlfar, for they were too many.