The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor (27 page)

"The details of our business are secret,
known only to the Council and to us."

"Indeed." Still, the leader was obviously not
satisfied. Crossing his arms, he stepped even closer to Malander
and tilted his head back in a haughty manner. He stood toe to toe
with Malander, towering over him by a good five inches. "Who are
you, pray tell?"

"I am the nightmare of my enemies and the
secret misery of my people," Malander boasted. Seeing the leader
occupied in thought, he placed his fingertips on the pommel of his
sword. One slash of his weapon would rid him permanently of this
arrogant person who stood too close for his liking. Never did he
let anyone not proven to be friend or ally this near. He could feel
the warm exhalations from the inquisitive soldier who loomed over
him. "You will call me nothing, for that is what you are to
me."

"Brave words for such a small man," the
leader sneered. "The feeling is mutual, I assure you."

"Why are you here, stranger?" Malander wanted
to know. "This is not your kingdom, nor have I seen such a
ridiculous symbol as the one you wear so proudly."

Outraged, the man took four steps back and
lifted one side of his coat, revealing his sword. "I do not
tolerate slander against my master's crest of power!"

Seth doubted that he and Malander could fend
off these apparently skilled fighters long enough for help to come.
It was a difficult situation, in which neither fighting nor running
was wise. How he wished he could summon Randor to his side.

"You need to heed my advice, knight, or
whatever you might be." Malander was not intimidated in the least;
on the contrary, he rather enjoyed matching words with the
stranger. He stood as tall as he could, shoulders back, aching for
the man to brandish his weapon.
At least
three will fall before death finds me,
he
thought.

"Your fate stands before you," the leader
laughed, drawing his blade.

"Malander, please…," Seth begged.

"Malander is your name?" The leader lowered
his weapon and, smiling, returned through the line of soldiers. "I
will remember that for our next meeting. My generosity will not
extend so far next time." And at a wave of his arm, the soldiers
sheathed their swords and followed him toward the castle.

"Next time I will kill you," Malander said as
he rubbed his mask's dark fabric.

"We must return to Randor at once!" Seth
entreated.

"Go on ahead." Malander wished to calm
himself before seeing the others, and he did not want to hint of a
struggle in their absence from the tavern. Watching the soldiers
disappear into the castle, he turned to Seth, whose back was to
him. "What are you waiting for? I will remain here. They might
leave after losing sight of us."

"Sound design, Malander. In a moment I will
return with the others." His nerves still shaken by the encounter,
Seth hesitated as if not knowing where to turn. Malander pointed to
the alleyway, and the knight soon disappeared.

It was a rough passage back to the tavern,
and Seth stumbled many times before reaching Fallon's End. His
senses were still rattled as he entered, and the smoke stung his
eyes. He reached Randor and related the story.

* * *

In very little time, Seth stood with Randor
and the company before the immense castle. He told of Malander
remaining within the courtyard, but there was no sign of him now.
The winds died down, and all was quiet in the vicinity. Randor
scanned the area to better his understanding of the situation;
Seth's details had been too scattered and not well put in speech.
Only after slowing the knight's excited babbling did Randor finally
learn of the soldiers entering the castle. The wizard looked up at
the castle that none in the city wished to recall, though he knew
that it had spawned many myths and legends of war--of a great
battle of men and elves against an evil whose name no one
remembered. According to the stories passed down, few had survived
the struggle against a powerful magic that still lay within the
gates. Randor had once been curious of this place when he was
younger, and now came the long-awaited chance to venture
within.

"Are you sure this is where they went?"
Arnanor asked, doubting Seth's claim. "Malander is not here." He
approached Randor and leaned in to whisper, "I have known this
since the beginning."

"What is that?" Randor asked, half
listening.

"He is with them as we speak--a spy indeed,
that human is."

"I would reconsider, my lord," Seth said,
overhearing the prince, and was surprised to find himself defending
his angry colleague. "You had to witness his exchange of words with
those men. I can confirm that they were not friendly. Thank
goodness everything turned out all right."

"It was all an act, I tell you!" Arnanor
countered, trying to convince those around him that the traitor
prophesied by the Oracle was among them. "Surely, Randor, you think
as I do."

"I think nothing of it. If he is with those
soldiers, there is nothing any of us can do now. Time will show the
truth."

Chapter Eleven: The Past Returned

Gildan stared at the castle, his green eyes
wide with enthusiasm for a bit of treasure hunting. There had to be
something of great worth inside, and a long time had passed since
his hands touched plunder. Images ran riot through his mind, of
mountains of gold and jewels. "What are we standing here for? I
have riches to seek!"

"More important items lie within," Randor
said.

"Perhaps, but I have an empty pouch that
needs filling." He bowed his head and extended his arm. "After you,
Randor."

"Shouldn't we wait for Malander?" Seth asked,
not believing that the knight was inside among the soldiers who
wore the symbol.

"He shall arrive when he does," Randor
answered. "We are strong without him still."

Gildan rubbed his hands together with
delight, a broad smile on his face. Flipping his cape over his
right arm, he walked to the door with his head held high. Randor
paused as he stood at the enormous door. Fear, anxiety, and
confusion looked him in the eyes through his companions, but thus
far at least, he could detect nothing of the legendary evil of this
place, which gave him hope.

"Are we going in?" Seth asked, praying the
answer was no. The entire venture was much to his disliking. He
felt that observation from afar was the much better idea, though he
kept these ideas to himself, knowing that no one would consider
them.

"Indeed we are, Highbinder," Randor stated.
"This is our greatest and only clue. I would be a fool to turn
around now. Let your senses become alive and active, and stray not.
Keep reserved, and act only when I say." He opened the door. "There
is no telling what we will encounter."

"Five moon-thieves and a traitor," Arnanor
muttered, still firm in his opinion. Making his way to the front of
the gathering, he was determined to walk through the door,
unwilling to remain calm. "If you will not lead the way, I
will."

Randor pushed the prince aside, and Arnanor
bristled, appalled that someone should touch him in such a manner.
"Must I bind your hands behind you and lead you inward like a
disobedient child?"

"Unnecessary precaution, wizard," the prince
replied.

The lone moon sank behind the buildings
across the courtyard. Knowing that dawn would break upon the world
soon, Randor was first to enter the castle. Seth and Lorn gasped as
they looked across a chamber that was void of flooring except for a
narrow bridge of wood that spanned to the far side of the room,
where a door led to places unknown. Gildan and Randor parted the
gathering and stood at the edge of the bridge, devising a course of
action.

"This place is barren--not one trace of
neither war nor treasure," Gildan said, disappointed. "Perhaps
there is more beyond this room." He leaned on the bridge railing.
"What do you make of it?"

"I am puzzled, to be sure. If a great battle
had occurred, evidence would be left behind."

"I am feeling odd since we set foot inside
this place," said Gildan. I do not know what it is, but a great
evil is at work."

"I do not perceive anything," the wizard
replied.

"Don't think ill of me, Randor, but I grow
tired of Malander and Arnanor's ways. They bring tension and
disorder to our efforts. We need to keep them under stricter
discipline."

"Rest your fears, my friend."

"I am not afraid," said Gildan boldly.
"Failure is not yet known to me."

Randor laughed gently and replied, "I have
seen many things fall to ruin. Must we forget the Second Age?"

"Grim of an end that was, indeed, but that
was not your fault."

"But I was deeply involved with the outcome.
I try not to think much it anymore." Randor's head sank as he was
filled with ancient memories. Even after three thousand years the
images were as clear as yesterday. This portion of his life was the
hardest of all--trying to forget the millions of people who died in
that tragedy. "Just have faith, Gildan."

"Faith?"
The
elf was repulsed by the word and threw up his hands. "Faith is for
the weak and ignorant."

"For most it is what motivates them forward
in life."

"The power of my skills and wealth are all I
rely on in this world. They have given me more than I could ever
glean from faith."

"Do not place your entire trust in these
earthly talents. One day they might fail you, although I hope this
never happens."

"It will never come to pass, I assure
you."

"I think the company has had enough time to
rest," Randor said, wiping away the sweat that beaded on his brow.
The stale air inside the castle was surprisingly dank and stuffy.
Even Randor's vision suffered from the heat that swelled in his
head, causing the bridge to waver in and out of focus repeatedly
until he pressed his fingers to his temples to quell the
throbbing.

Gildan laid his hand on Randor's shoulder and
asked, "Are you well enough to continue?"

"Yes," he answered softly, cloaking his pain.
"I will be fine."

"You don't have to fool me. If it is time you
need to regenerate, then we shall wait."

"As if we could afford to let these men
wearing this clue slip from our grasp," Randor murmured. As he
slowly pulled himself forward by the railing, Gildan came up behind
and turned the wizard around, seeing the agony on his friend's
face. Randor's breaths were short and rapid, and his lips were
chapped and splitting.

"You need to rest," Gildan said, his words
edged with worry.

"What is going on over there?" Arnanor
asked.

"Nothing." Gildan had to shield the others
from this sight or risk disrupting what morale was left. Though
Randor was becoming dead weight, Gildan had the strength to keep
him on his feet, for he did not trust the bridge rails enough to
prop the feeble wizard against them.

"Do not look upon me as this," Randor said.
"I have not been myself the past two months." His soul and lifeline
were directly linked to Londor, each affecting the other with any
pain it felt. The magical spirits that dwelled in his ancient body
had all but fled.

"Does our quest end here?" Arnanor asked,
pacing restlessly along the platform.

"I certainly hope not," Muron replied. Still
optimistic about his first true adventure, he said, "I am not ready
to return homeward just yet." There was not much there for him,
just roaming the palace grounds and being tutored by the many
scholars brought in by his father. It was his father who dominated
all business of the kingdom, while his brother spent his every
waking moment perfecting his swordsmanship. And when he wasn't
fencing, Arnanor paraded around the kingdom for weeks on end to
satisfy his pampered, egotistical lifestyle. Whenever there was not
war with the Mazazuken, Muron spent his days in the beautiful
northern climate with typical elvish festivals of song, food, and
fellowship.

Naturally, Arnanor had wanted a true escape
from the North, and on learning of the quest in Dunane, he had
taken Muron and Geil secretly away to join in. "You will not return
home soon, but we three shall all return as heroes only to
ourselves. No one must ever know of our being here," Arnanor
whispered.

"This secrecy is a burden, Arnanor, but it
will not leave my lips," Muron assured him.

"Randor," Arnanor said loudly, "should we
linger so?"

"Give him a moment," Gildan replied.

"What for?" the prince demanded. "He has had
all this day and night to rest and think. We have work to do."

Gildan did not want to alarm anyone over
Randor's temporary lack of equilibrium. They did not need to know
that world's suffering was consuming him whole.

With any luck there was only one entrance to
the castle; thus, anyone wishing to leave would have to cross paths
with the company. "Decisions still lay unattended," he told the
others. "Stand by for further direction." Gildan's nerves began to
crumble under Arnanor's verbal onslaught. "Is that clear enough for
you?"

"Unfortunately so," Arnanor said under his
breath. "Yes, yes, very clear, sir," he replied, full of
sarcasm.

Lorn leaned over as far as he could bear and
squinted into the endless chasm beneath them. "I wonder where it
ends. More importantly, I wonder what lies at its bottom."

"I would not know," Seth retorted. This place
was frightening. "I try not to think of evil festering in this
castle."

"Honestly, I do not want to know anything,
either. I'd like to leave right now. Even sitting at Jerthom's
table sounds much more pleasant."

Seth laughed. "I wouldn't go as far as that,
my old friend. You should favor adventures and excitement over
ridicule and depression."