City of Jade (13 page)
Authors: Dennis McKiernan
“But I have seen dear things made of this wood,” said Aylis. “If not hewn, then how—?”
Aravan gestured at the surround. “At times a gathering is made in the forest, for occasionally lightning or a great wind from the south sweeping o’er the wide plains of Valon will cause branches to fall; and these are collected by the Lian storm-gleaners, and treasures dear are fashioned of this precious timber.”
“What of storm-felled trees?” asked Aylis. “Or those that simply topple of old age? Surely now and again a tree falls in the forest.”
Aravan nodded. “Thou art right, my love: Eld Trees sometimes die. And for each that does so, we mourn, for the trees somehow know when Elvenkind dwell nigh and shed their twilight down. And there are among Elvenkind those who in turn are attuned to the trees and feel the passing of each.”
“Some of you can sense the loss of one of these giants?”
“Aye. Arin Flameseer of the Dylvana was one. In fact, she felt the deaths of the Nine, or rather I should say their murder.”
They rode in silence for a moment, and then Aravan said, “When an Eld Tree falls, the master carvers long study each branch and twig, each root and nub, and every inch of the full of the bole, sensing the grain, sensing the shapes trapped within, ere setting ought to ought.”
“Do these grow elsewhere on Mithgar?”
“But for the Lone Eld Tree in Arden Vale, they do not.” Then Aravan added, “This entire forest was transplanted here from Adonar. ’Twas the work of Silverleaf.”
“Oh, my,” said Aylis. “It must have taken forever.”
Aravan laughed. “Not quite, Chier. Not quite.” Then he sobered and added, “There are, however, some events that last forever, and the Felling of the Nine was one of these.”
“Signal events,” said Aylis. “Though some do not last, as you say, ‘forever, ’ still in every life they occur. At times they change the destinies of those involved.”
Aravan nodded his agreement and said, “Some events sweep up many in their wake—wars and such—while others affect only one.”
Aylis looked at him and asked, “What were some of yours?—Signal events, I mean.”
“The first time I laid eyes on the sea is one,” said Aravan.
“On Adonar?”
“Nay, on Mithgar. ’Twas dawn when I first rode out of Adonar and into Mithgar in the early days of the First Era, coming to the youth and wildness of this new world, leaving behind the stately grace and beauty of ancient Adonar. As I knew I would, when I emerged I found myself in a misty swale, with grassy crowns of mounded hills all about, for, as all such in-between crossings must be, the cast of the terrain was fair matched to that I had left on Adonar. But what I did not expect was the distant sound that to my ears came:
shssh
ing booms. Intrigued, I turned my horse toward the rolling roar, riding southerly among the diminishing downs. Upward my path took me, up a long and shallow slope, the sounds increasing, the wind in my face, a salt tang on the air. And I found myself on a high chalk cliff, the white bluff falling sheer. Out before me as far as the eye could see stretched deep blue waters to the horizon and beyond. It was the ocean, the Avagon Sea, its azure waves booming below, high-tossed spray glittering like diamonds cast upward in the morning sun. My heart sang at such a sight and my eyes brimmed with tears, and in that moment something slipped comfortably into my soul, for it seemed I was home at last.”
shssh
ing booms. Intrigued, I turned my horse toward the rolling roar, riding southerly among the diminishing downs. Upward my path took me, up a long and shallow slope, the sounds increasing, the wind in my face, a salt tang on the air. And I found myself on a high chalk cliff, the white bluff falling sheer. Out before me as far as the eye could see stretched deep blue waters to the horizon and beyond. It was the ocean, the Avagon Sea, its azure waves booming below, high-tossed spray glittering like diamonds cast upward in the morning sun. My heart sang at such a sight and my eyes brimmed with tears, and in that moment something slipped comfortably into my soul, for it seemed I was home at last.”
“Oh, Aravan, how beautiful.”
Aravan grinned and said, “Not as beautiful as when thou didst come climbing o’er the rail of the
Eroean
. ’Twas the most signal event in my life.”
Eroean
. ’Twas the most signal event in my life.”
As she had done on that day, Aylis blushed, remembering the time. For she had seen Aravan ere then . . . or his image, rather. As a neophyte in her first year at the College of Mages in Kairn, the City of Bells on Rwn, like many young maidens with Seer Talent she had cast a spell upon a small silver mirror, asking to see her truelove; in her case, Aravan’s visage had come into view. And so, years later when she had intercepted the
Eroean
and had clambered over the rail and set eyes upon him, her heart hammered and her face flushed, and Aravan had reached out to steady her, and a spark leapt between the two, startling both. And so, that first meeting had been a signal event for her as well.
Eroean
and had clambered over the rail and set eyes upon him, her heart hammered and her face flushed, and Aravan had reached out to steady her, and a spark leapt between the two, startling both. And so, that first meeting had been a signal event for her as well.
Even as Aylis relived the experience, Aravan’s smile vanished and a bleakness stared out from his eyes. “But the second-most-important event of my life was when I thought thou wert gone forever into the deeps with Rwn. The loss of Galarun was hard, but the loss of thee was worse. It was then I gave up the sea, right after thy ‘death’ was avenged.”
“Oh, Aravan, I would not have had you forsake the ocean and certainly not the
Eroean
.”
Eroean
.”
“But for the time of the Winter War, the
Eroean
sat idle in the Hidden Grotto in Thell Cove.”
Eroean
sat idle in the Hidden Grotto in Thell Cove.”
“You sailed her in the Winter War?”
“Aye. A crew and I took on the Rovers of Kistan during those terrible days. But afterward, we put her back in the grotto, and there she sat until the Wolfmage drew her forth and sailed her unto Port Arbalin for Bair and me to use in the time of the Trine.”
“No more, Aravan, no more,” said Aylis. “You must promise me that should ought happen, you will—”
“Chier, my heart went out of me when I thought thee gone forever. I had no love for ought, not e’en the sea or my ship.”
They rode in silence for long moments, and surreptitiously Aylis turned her face away from Aravan to wipe away her tears.
Noting her attempt to hide her shared desolation for Aravan’s long years of despair, Aravan said, “But then, mayhap e’en more signal than when first we met came but two winters past, for that was when I discovered that thou wert yet alive and not gone down with Rwn, and my heart and my love were restored unto me.”
Aylis smiled, her eyes again brimming, but this time at remembered joy. “It was so for me as well, yet I thought you might die, wounded as you were.”
Aravan reached out and briefly touched her hand, and they rode side by side in quietness, and only a soft sound of a nearby cascade showering down from the canopy above broke the peace of their shared solitude.
But at last Aylis asked, “Speaking of the time of the Trine, what about the death of Gyphon? Was that not a signal event in your life?”
A rueful smile twitched Aravan’s mouth, and he said, “It was, Chier. But even more signal was what Raudhrskal did right after; that will be with me forever.”
“Raudhrskal the Dragon?”
“Aye. He not only saved Bair and me, but the whole of Mithgar as well.”
“Tell me, love.”
Aravan took a deep breath and then let it out and said, “Gyphon was slain, and Ydral dead, and the Crystal Cavern began to collapse. Bair and I fled, but the Great Abyss was yet agape, with the entire world being sucked down and in. . . .”
A furlong or two from the in-between, just as Aravan came to the last of his story, they passed by Lian sentries to come into Wood’s-heart, the Elvenholt at the core of Darda Galion, where thatch-roofed white cottages nestled among the trees of the soaring Larkenwald.
Even as they dismounted before the central hall, they were met by the newly crowned Coron of all Elves on Mithgar: flaxen-haired Tuon of the ice-blue eyes. And from the dais in the great hall, Aravan spoke to a gathered assembly of the winning of the Black Fortress on Neddra by a battalion of Elves and seven nines of Magekind. He spoke of the occupation of the stronghold and the plans to guard and control the nexus to keep it out of Rûptish hands, for one of its in-betweens was now the only known crossing to the Mage world of Vadaria, and to lose that would be to lose much.
Aylis then told of the subsequent massive attempt to regain the fortress by nigh a full Horde of Spaunen two fortnights and a sevenday later, and the victory achieved by allies, by might and main and Magery, and by the use of illusory Dragons, their intangible flames augmented by the castings of Firemages. She added, however, that it was almost a certainty that the Spawn would have been repelled even without the phantasmal Drakes: not only did Arandor’s company of Lian and Dylvana hold the fortress upon the high ground, but the reserve of defending Magekind was and is considerable; along with this she mentioned that using the illusions of Dragons simply meant less overall expenditure of by the defending Wizards.
“What of Trolls among the Foul Folk?” asked slender, black-haired Dara Irilyn. “Could they not shatter the gates, given a ram like the one known as Whelm?”
Aylis smiled. “Aye, they could, yet my father says if Trolls ever again come to knock at the door, they will be greeted by searing lightning that will stroke their hides and send any survivors screaming into the hills.”
After the laughter died down, another Dara rose to her feet and asked, “Were there Draedani among the foe?”
Aylis shook her head. “Nay, yet there are Mages among those at the fortress who might be powerful enough—though that is not at all a certainty—to banish a Gargon back to the Demon world. If that proves not to be feasible, the Healers among the allies can cast calmness upon our forces, enough so that the Elves at the ballistas could launch spears at the Fearcaster, just like the ballista-flung lance slew the Gargon at Dendor during the War of the Ban.”
“Even so,” said the Dara, “with many Draedani among the foe would they not pose a dreadful risk?”
“They would,” replied Aylis. “Yet my father says that it would require a very powerful Black Mage to summon each one from Grygar, and for a number of Dread Ones to be called, it would take many powerful dark Wizards. Modru, Durlok, mayhap Ordrune: they were powerful enough to do so. But they were in a class of their own; yet all three are now dead. Mayhap there is not a living Black Mage powerful enough to draw forth a Gargon from the Demon Plane, much less enough to summon several.”
A look of relief swept over the faces of many in the assembly, for they well knew the terror such monsters could bring.
A ginger-haired Alor asked, “Aravan, what are the plans for rotation of Lian and Dylvana in and out of the Black Fortress company? It cannot be pleasant living upon Neddra.”
“For the nonce, Theril, by choice that duty falls to our kindred on the High World; they cite the fact that it has been long since they were in battle against the Rûpt, whereas the Dylvana and Lian on Mithgar have since engaged in two great wars—the Winter War against Modru, and the War of the Dragonstone against the Fists of Rakka and the Golden Horde of the so-called Dragonking—while they sat idle on Adonar . . . through no fault of their own, I add, for in those times the Planes were yet sundered one from the other.”
At Aravan’s side, Tuon said, “Would that we of the Darda Galion ward had been in those battles, those of us who were here at the time. Yet we could not leave the Larkenwald undefended.” Tuon smiled and shook his head and added, “Though with the small company I had after Inarion and the others went unto the High Plane, we would have been hard-pressed to defend this realm against a force of any size.”
“Thou wert here in the Eldwood when Bair and I crossed to the Larkenwald from Adonar?” asked Aravan.
Tuon nodded. “Aye, though on patrol when the Dawn Rider and thee and the silverlarks came, though afterward Silverleaf told us of the event that he and the Dylvana had seen here in Wood’s-heart.”
When the questions had run their course, with Aravan and Aylis responding, Tuon called for a halt, for the mark of noon had come. Then Aylis and Aravan joined Tuon for a midday meal. As they retired to a bench under the spread of one of the giants, “Your weapon, Tuon,” said Aylis, gesturing at the dark spear Tuon set aside, “its aura bears strange .”
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