Elfhunter (71 page)

The council had begun, and the Elves were presently
attending to Nelwyn, who was describing events from the finding of
Talrodin to the dividing of the Company. Then Gaelen would tell of
her experiences in Cós-domhain. Gorgon listened with prideful
fascination as she related the horrors she had witnessed. Rogond
spoke of the mysterious deaths in the Verdant Mountains, and
Thorndil told of his encounter. But it was the tale of the Elves of
Tal-sithian that truly mesmerized Gorgon. Here he learned of his
mother, Brinneal, and of Amandir, her beloved. He had not known his
mother’s name until now, nor the tale of her abduction. The Elves
of Tal-sithian sorrowed for Gorgon, and they all pitied him, but
they knew he would never be brought to the Light. He was thoroughly
evil—a creature of pure, black hatred.

"Whatever grace might have been given him has been
subverted by the Black Flame. There is no hope of redeeming him and
only one course available to us. We must determine how the creature
may be killed, and then see it done. He will not sleep until he has
brought us all down one by one," said Oryan.

Gorgon bristled and growled through his pain as the
Elves revealed their pity for him. And they were right; he would
not sleep until he had brought them down. But no longer would he
strike his victims one by one. No, indeed! They would all fall
before him tonight. He listened to their plan, which was to adjourn
for the day and consider what they had heard, gather for a feast in
the early evening and reconvene the council afterward. They would
talk far into the night, debating his fate.

The pain grew too great for Gorgon to bear, and his
strength was leaving him as he thrust the mirror into its pouch
again. No matter. He knew now when the attack would come. He hoped
the Elves would feast well and merrily, for it would be their last.
He would take rest for a brief while, but then he would need to
gather his forces for the final approach, so that they would be
ready when the time came.

The weather front that Gaelen had sensed earlier
finally arrived just after sundown. The wind had picked up, and
they could all smell the rain on the air. The Elves hoped that
there would be no truly violent weather this night, as sometimes
happened in early summer, for it might cause Gorgon to withdraw
until conditions were more favorable. No one wanted this to happen,
as they all knew that this deception would never succeed a second
time. Gaelen had been wearing a brave face, but those close to her
perceived that if not soon made free of Gorgon, she would go
mad.

She had attended the feast, sitting beside Rogond,
but had partaken of little food or drink. She was weary from the
nearly constant contact with Gorgon this day, sitting at the
council shivering and trying to keep her teeth from chattering. A
little wine might have relaxed her, but the wine-goblets were
filled with clear water, for all would need their wits. The overall
mood was somber, for all thoughts were upon the dark host that
would soon engage them. Then, as they resumed the council, the
"debate" began. They wanted to appear preoccupied and distracted,
and goad Gorgon into attacking. It had now begun to rain, and the
west wind was chilly. Out on the rim, Nelwyn and the archers
hunkered down under their cloaks, awaiting the signal from the
lookouts.

Gorgon had moved his host into position; a group of
over a hundred Ulcas now flanked the hillside from every direction.
Kharsh’s group had descended into the deep ravine to the north.
They were making their way back up when they were spotted by the
sharp eyes of Kelin, a hunter-scout of the Greatwood who had been
stationed as lookout. She gave a signal—a high-pitched, stuttering
cry that sounded much like that of a young nighthawk. This was
answered by similar cries from the south and west, as the enemy was
seen there as well. One of the lookouts set to watch the eastern
flank could not reply; he had been seen by Gorgon and now lay dead
with an arrow in his throat.

Kelin and the other surviving lookouts now made their
way carefully back up to the rim of the hill to join the archers
there. Slowly the enemy host crept toward them; some had passed the
first set of fire-pits. The archers were now well aware of them,
but would not reveal themselves until the Ulcas had come closer.
They waited for Nelwyn, who had been elected to send forth the
first arrow.

Gorgon didn’t like it. His senses were keen and he
was extremely wary. Though the rain had blunted his sense of smell,
he thought he detected a faint aroma of pitch. The hillside was
strewn and littered with stones and brush, but what was the meaning
of that pitch-smell? Gorgon was not familiar with the technique of
building fire-pits, but he was highly intelligent and knew that the
smell of pitch in this place made little sense. Then the wind rose
again from the west, the scent faded, and his path forward was
clear again.

He took hold of the mirror. Gaelen was still present
at the council, where the debate over how best to deal with him was
yet raging. The Elves were at fever pitch in anticipation of
battle, and this gave passion to their discourse. Gorgon was
convinced that the debate was genuine, and he relaxed his
vigilance. Now was the time to engage them; they did not appear to
be aware of anything other than their foolish argument. Reassured
for the moment, Gorgon and his army continued to close in toward
their intended prey.

At the signal from the lookouts, those in the council
tent were alerted, and Gaelen left for the rim. It took some time
to reach it, as the climb was stony and treacherous, but she soon
found herself crouching beside Nelwyn, who was trying to keep her
arrows dry. All the archers had lit small fires among the rocks;
they would ignite the arrows, but would be hidden from view.
Wood-elves are masters at concealing a fire after nightfall.

Gaelen stared resolutely at the dark forest
surrounding the hill. Nelwyn noticed that she was literally
twitching in expectation of battle. She was armed with her long
knives, her short sword and longbow, the smaller bow that she used
in hunting, and a very large supply of arrows. She alone would not
be required to light one of the fire-pits, as she did not know
their locations, but she would be among the first to shed the blood
of her enemies. The distant thunder that she had noted earlier was
drawing nearer, and the flickering light of the approaching storm
would aid the Elves in sighting their enemy. Gaelen was keeping
watch for Gorgon, as she wanted to ensure that he had moved close
enough that he would not turn back when the battle was joined. She
closed her eyes, trying to get a sense of him, hoping, for once,
that he would look into the mirror.

In the flickering light of the breaking storm, Gorgon
caught sight of one of the archers lying in wait along the rim of
the hill. So! Perhaps they had anticipated him after all. Or
perhaps this was the only protection they had provided for the
council, and he still had little to fear. He wavered in his resolve
for a moment as he drew forth the mirror again. Gaelen was still
staring out at the stormy sky, and it occurred to him that she had
quite possibly been making it a point not to look at the archers
arranged all around the hilltop on both sides of her. Was she
trying to mislead him, to avoid giving something away? Perhaps it
would be better to regroup and attack at a later time, when he was
more certain. The council would likely go on for several days.
Perhaps a temporary retreat would be better… he smelled a trap!

Abruptly, Gaelen galvanized beside Nelwyn, who looked
at her with alarm. Nelwyn knew better than to speak to her cousin,
for from the look on her face Gorgon was listening at this moment.
Gaelen suddenly rose to her feet, her face betraying an anxiety
that was nothing short of panic. He was…he was thinking about
turning back! She had to stop him. She drew her bow as Nelwyn gave
a cry of dismay that she could not prevent.

Gaelen spoke through clenched teeth. "Turn back now,
Dark Horror! I know of your power, and I know you can hear me! We
have many warriors in our host, and outnumber you greatly! Turn
back, or you will be slain. I shall be the first to place an arrow
in your hateful heart! Your Dark Master will be disappointed this
night!"

Nelwyn stared at her cousin in horror, wondering
whether she truly had gone mad. The last thing she thought Gaelen
would have wanted was to see Gorgon turn tail and retreat—the
entire purpose of this deception had been to lure him into the
conflict! Ri-Aruin’s army was awaiting the signal, and this chance
would never come again. Had Gaelen lost her senses? Had she gone
over to the Darkness at last?

Nelwyn’s question was answered as Gaelen loosed her
bow, sending an arrow straight to the heart of the Ulca that stood
beside Gorgon on the eastern face. Nelwyn grabbed Gaelen’s arm.
"What have you
done?
" she cried.

Gaelen softened for a moment, and she uttered a
phrase in the dwarf-tongue that both she and Nelwyn had been taught
by Fima, and which Gorgon would not understand. "Norúk-ahi."
Trust me.

Gaelen’s arrow did not penetrate the excellent armor
that had come from the forges of the Shadowmancer, as she had used
her small hunting bow, and it lacked the necessary power. Gaelen
had known that this would be so, which was why she had not used her
longbow. She would give courage to her enemy.

Though he was somewhat dismayed to learn that Gaelen
was aware of the power of the mirror, Gorgon’s face twisted into a
smile. She was trying to frighten him into retreating; she knew her
people were outnumbered as well as he, and their pitiful weapons
were no match for his well-armored host. Though her fortitude was
admirable, her actions would serve only to strengthen his resolve.
He instructed the Ulcas that they no longer need worry about
killing her; she had served her purpose and would be of no further
use to him. Nelwyn gave another cry as he roared in challenge, then
signaled his forces to charge, dropping low to the ground with
their shields before them. "Send forth your arrows! Light the
fires! They are attacking!"

Gaelen yelled in a voice Nelwyn did not
recognize.

Nelwyn set her arrow aflame, and then sent it into
the pit below. The rain had not aided them there; the wet brush
would catch slowly, though the pitch was already smoldering into
life. The other archers followed suit, and in a few seconds the
pits were ignited, though they burned reluctantly, sending up more
smoke than flame. The Elves would get little aid from the
firelight, and more importantly, the lighting of the pits was to be
the signal to Ri-Aruin’s army to surround the hill; they would
never see it unless the fires burned brightly. Now the challenge
was to bring down as many foes as possible before falling back
behind the rim. The archers sent volley after volley, taking many
of the enemy, but the Ulcas made use of the terrain, evading the
Elves’ arrows. They were armed with powerful crossbows, and several
of the Elven archers fell back, dead or badly wounded.

Though Gorgon was somewhat dismayed to find that at
least some of the Elves’ arrows would indeed penetrate the Ulcas’
armor, he did not waver. If Gaelen had thought to turn him about so
easily, she would be disappointed. The Ulcas moved ever closer, and
the beleaguered archers now collectively retreated behind the rim
of the hill. The Ulcas gave a lusty yell and charged after them. At
least a dozen of the archers had been taken, and Gorgon reckoned
that his folk would face fewer than one hundred foes on the
plateau; in fact, there were about eighty. The attacking force had
suffered greater loss in the ascent; in addition to the archers,
the rock-slide traps had taken more than a few. But they still
numbered nearly four hundred, and the defending force was thus
outnumbered five to one. As they approached the rim, Galador winded
his horn, sending the warning to the Elves on the plateau, who
braced themselves for the assault.

As soon as they crested the rim the Ulcas found
themselves amid a storm of arrows. The Black Command surged
forward, hoping to overwhelm by sheer numbers, and swords were
drawn. But the Elves were well positioned, and ready for them. The
Ulcas had not anticipated the skill of their opponents, or the
recklessness of Amandir. None who came near him survived his blade
for more than a few seconds. He looked around wildly, hoping to see
Gorgon among his enemies, but he could not.

Gorgon was overseeing the attack from the rim of the
hill, surrounded by a guard made up of his original force of
thirty, now reduced to nineteen. Kharsh stood with him. Gorgon was
reasonably satisfied; his forces would soon overpower the Elves,
and he wondered whether they now doubted the wisdom of holding the
council. He had to admit that this hill was defensible, as the
intricacy of the rugged terrain made attacking in large groups
difficult. The Elves were skilled and had not been taken completely
unaware, but they were still outnumbered. Gorgon looked down upon
the fray with satisfaction. Things were not going well for them, no
indeed! This would take less effort than he had at first
predicted.

Without Ri-Aruin, the defenders would surely be
overcome. The rain had not been their friend; it threatened to be
their undoing, as the signal to Ri-Aruin’s forces could barely be
seen. Galador had winded his beautiful horn again and again even as
he fought, but the sound would be scattered by the pouring rain,
and would no longer serve to alert and summon the King.

Rogond and Fima stood together, back to back, as they
engaged the enemy with sword and axe. Rogond had cast his spear
into the heart of one of the attackers, and there it remained, for
he had yet to retrieve it.

One of Gorgon’s three lieutenants, large and fierce,
leaped upon Rogond, who was hard put to defend himself. The Great
Ulca wielded a heavy blade, and he struck a glancing blow to the
side of Rogond’s head, hard enough that he was knocked to the
ground, momentarily dazed.