Elfhunter (73 page)

Amandir then removed the helmet he had been wearing,
fully revealing his face to his enemy. "I have been prepared,
mis-begotten monstrosity, since the loss of my beloved gave life to
your ill- conceived existence. For I am the one whose heart was
bound to Brinneal, your mother."

The storm had risen to its full power, and the rain
ran down Gorgon’s dark armor in gleaming rivulets. He winced as a
bright fork of lightning stung his sensitive eyes, then glared down
at Amandir, snarling.

"You are not Magra?"

"Most assuredly not. I am Amandir, the one who will
end your miserable life this night. You have been deceived."

Gorgon froze, his confidence draining from him.
Though he had been somewhat suspicious of a trap, he had genuinely
believed that Magra and Ri-Aruin were present. Now he was
momentarily stunned by the news that he had been taken in
completely and that Wrothgar would not receive his expected prize.
Gorgon then knew that he was probably doomed, despite the outcome
of the conflict.

Amandir took advantage of his stunned confusion to
launch his attack. Gorgon was hard put to defend himself from the
fury that had welled in Amandir, and the lightning flashed in their
clashing blades as they slashed at each other with all their skill.
Amandir moved with impressive speed, like a deadly dancer. Even one
such as Gorgon would have difficulty so long as Amandir’s strength
held. They battled long upon the rocky pinnacle of the rim, each
trying desperately to overcome the other.

Then the two combatants broke apart, panting and
glaring, for a few precious seconds. But as they prepared to engage
again, Gorgon reached up with his left hand and removed his black
helmet, releasing the silken flood of his golden hair, the gift of
his mother, and Amandir’s grim, silent face broke into a cry of
despair.

The assault on the council-tent had been going well
for Kharsh until now. Rogond, Fima, and Oriana had charged in from
behind, felling the Ulcas as they turned in dismay. They now
perceived that they were surrounded by Elves, men, and dwarves, and
fought as only trapped Ulcas can. Kharsh remembered his purpose—to
retrieve the head of Ri-Aruin, but as he drew closer to Wellyn, he
realized that the Elf before him was not the Elven-king. With
Ri-Aruin’s armor removed, it was apparent that Wellyn was too young
and too slight of build. Kharsh could imagine the reaction of his
commander to the news that the Elves had deceived him. Cursing, he
dove under the loose silk of the tent wall and was gone. Gaelen
caught sight of this and cried in dismay:

"He stands at Gorgon’s right hand! We must not let
him escape!" Yet her cry was in vain, for none could leave the
battle to pursue him.

Fima and Oriana had fallen; Rogond, Galador,
Thorndil, Gaelen and Nelwyn stood now at bay. The Ulcas had
recovered their wits and had rallied against them, and it looked as
though the Company would meet with a grim fate, when at last the
folk of the Greatwood Realm arrived, blowing their horns and
filling their enemies with dread. Many of the Ulcas fled, others
fell, and when the conflict in the council-tent finally ended no
living enemy remained. Yet there was much of sorrow and grief to
the Company.

Galador knelt beside the body of Oriana, who had been
cloven from behind even as she sent forth her last arrow. He closed
her now-sightless eyes and bowed his head in silent grief for this
fair child of Eádros, as Nelwyn stood by, for she did not
understand what had occurred.

Rogond was attending to Fima, who had taken a deadly
blow that had literally crushed his iron-banded helm. Gaelen
anxiously awaited news from the Ranger, who looked up at her in
sorrow, shaking his head, and Gaelen knew that the old lore-master
would be lost to them. Tears of rage and grief started in her
eyes—this was not yet finished! She ran forward, grabbed Fima’s
axe, which lay where he had dropped it, and ran from the tent as
Rogond called after her.

She caught sight of her quarry immediately. Through
the clashing swords and whistling arrows of Ulcas and Elves, she
made her way toward the rim of the hill, where Amandir and Gorgon
were even now engaged in deadly conflict, their hearts full of
vengeful hatred. Gorgon had removed his helmet; his long, golden
hair was clearly visible, even through the wind and rain. She made
her way toward him with all speed, though it was difficult, as the
battle still raged around her.

Amandir had been momentarily unmanned at the sight of
Gorgon’s beautiful hair. He was overcome with grief in that moment
for Brinneal, for he knew then that Gorgon truly had taken a part
of her, that he was not begotten only of evil. Gorgon perceived
that his opponent was weakened, and pressed him hard with both the
long sword of Gelmyr, borne in his right hand, and Turantil, borne
in his left. Amandir then came to himself, answering with his two
curved blades. They were much like Turantil, but slightly longer
and heavier, and were worthy weapons.

Amandir fought beyond his strength, for he knew he
would not survive this day, whereas Gorgon still held hope of it.
He put forth all the power he could summon, and he wounded Gorgon
thrice, but in the end his strength flagged, and he fell.

Gorgon disarmed Amandir quickly with a sweeping
stroke that knocked the one blade from his hand, and placed his
foot upon Amandir’s other hand. Then Gorgon placed his other foot
upon the neck of the struggling Elf, who knew in that moment that
his time had come…and he had failed. Gorgon had no time to toy with
his opponent, and he simply crushed the life from him, pausing long
enough to snarl down at Amandir as the light faded from his
eyes.

Gaelen reached Amandir within moments, but she had
come too late to aid him. She gazed into the depths of his
unfocused but still-bright eyes, trying to contact him as his
spirit fled his body. She took his hands in her own; they were warm
and strong. Her spirit called to him, and he answered.

I have failed. All of my purpose has been denied. He
must not prevail. You must help me, Elf of the Greatwood, for in
you there is the power to defeat him. You must see this done, or
perish yourself. You know it! Farewell.

Gaelen wept for him even as she rose to pursue her
enemy, though she need not have cried for Amandir, for his spirit
was free at last, and Brinneal awaited him.

Gorgon had fled over the rim of the hill to the
north. He was going to take the treacherous path through the ravine
in hope of escaping the Elves, who even now might be in pursuit.
Gaelen had leaped after him, and she would make great speed in this
terrain, for she was agile and swift, and her heart burned in her
breast. She knew that Amandir was right—she would surely perish if
she was not free of Gorgon, and this knowledge gave wings to her
pursuit.

As Gorgon made his way with all speed down toward the
ravine, he heard a familiar, unpleasant voice inside his mind. He
could not see Gelmyr, but the words of his long-vanquished foe
could not be ignored.

It’s no use trying to run. She is swifter than you
are, and she is gaining ground. You may as well turn and fight,
though if she does not defeat you, her folk surely will, for they
follow her in great numbers. You are undone, O Half-elven
Horror.

He laughed in an ill-natured manner.
They deceived
you so easily, and the She-elf was behind it all. You certainly
underestimated her resolve and fortitude, didn’t you? They all had
a hand in it, and you fell right into line. Things might have been
worth saving had you not gone to Wrothgar, but now you must face
Him even if you manage to evade the vengeance of the Elves, which I
think unlikely. Ha! Your hour has come at last!

This time Gorgon would not even reply to Gelmyr, but
turned and looked back over his shoulder, trying to catch sight of
Gaelen in pursuit.

You may as well stand and fight, O Gullible
Calamity,
said Gelmyr.
You cannot evade her—she will track
you like a hound, and never relent. Stand and fight! At least when
the folk of Ri-Aruin overtake you, they will remember your
ferocity.
For once, thought Gorgon, the Elf made some sense. He
braced himself for the coming conflict, awaiting the arrival of
Gaelen. She, at least, would not escape him.

Rogond knelt beside Fima, despairing as he removed
what remained of the dwarf ’s helmet, certain that he would find
naught but ruin beneath it. To his surprise, though there was
obviously some damage, all was not as he had thought. He was
delighted as Fima stirred, moaned, and opened his eyes, which,
though dazed and unfoccused, were reasonably clear. "How could you
have survived such a blow?" Rogond muttered in wonderment. "Any man
or Elf would have been crushed to pulp."

Fima apparently heard him, for he stirred again and,
to the amazement of Rogond, spoke in a halting, shaky voice: "As I
am ever-proud to state, Rogond, I am neither man nor Elf. It takes
a mightier blow to lay low the Children of Fior." With those words,
he closed his eyes and spoke no more until the conflict had
ended.

Rogond patted Fima’s shoulder affectionately, then
left him in the Wood-elves’ care and ran to aid his beloved, who
even now approached the powerful, savage enemy that was lying in
wait for her.

He spotted the body of Amandir lying alone and
forlorn upon the northern rim. The truth became known when he
approached and looked upon Amandir closely, observing the manner of
his death. There was only one being here large enough to crush the
life from Amandir in this manner. Gorgon’s tracks led away from the
body, down toward the ravine. Gaelen’s tracks were present as well,
and Rogond knew what he had to do. He whistled and called for Eros,
and the great horse came to his aid. Rogond led Eros down the
hillside toward the ravine, following the tracks of Gorgon and
Gaelen, hoping that he would not be too late. She would never
prevail alone.

The storm was beginning to abate, but the rocky
landscape still lit up with bright blue-white flashes of lightning,
and the hillside still echoed with thunder. Gaelen slid
precipitously on the wet stones as the rain still fell around her.
She tracked her enemy now for what she hoped would be the last
time. Every now and then she caught a brief sight of him, and she
knew that the gap was closing, but suddenly the sign seemed to
evaporate before her, and she lost the trail. She gave a cry of
frustration, searching frantically for any evidence of his passing,
and found none.

"No!" she cried, "I will
not
lose you
now!"

That you most certainly will not
, thought
Gorgon, as he crouched upon the ledge above her, preparing to leap
down and send her to her doom.

Once the army of the Greatwood had arrived, Gorgon’s
forces had been quickly overwhelmed. Standing tall upon the
plateau, King Ri-Aruin surveyed the scene before him. There were
very few of the enemy remaining; most had fled over the rim of the
hill when he and his forces had arrived, and those that still
fought would be dispatched quickly. He moved to the council-tent,
where many of the wounded had been taken, and was met by Nelwyn,
who gave him the news that his son had been injured. Ri-Aruin then
rushed to the aid of Wellyn, who brightened when he beheld his
father, though the King despaired at the pale, pain-weary face of
his son.

"What of Gorgon?" asked Wellyn. "Has he fallen before
you? We must make certain that he is dead—I fear Gaelen has gone to
engage him. You must find her and aid her!" He was so anxious that
they all feared he would expend what little strength remained to
him.

Ri-Aruin reassured him. "It shall be so; do not fear.
I will send our warriors immediately to locate her. Now you must
rest and heal yourself." He examined the wound, his face grim but
not grave. "This will mend. You have brought pride to our people
and to me, my son. Rest well and with honor. I will inform you when
Gaelen is found and when the creature lies dead. Rest, now."

Wellyn did so, for he trusted his father. As he
turned from his son, Ri-Aruin hoped that his people would in fact
be able to aid Gaelen and ensure the death of Gorgon, for he would
never betray such an important trust. He went forth to do all he
was able to make it so.

Nelwyn and Galador tended to Oriana’s body, carrying
it from the mud and filth of the battle to place it reverently
among the rest of the dead. Thorndil did not offer to aid them, for
he knew this was a private matter, and he despaired as he surveyed
the vast number of dead that lay now in this place. Of the original
defense force of nearly a hundred Elves, fewer than twenty remained
alive and with no serious hurt. Sixty-two had died. The toll on the
enemy host had been greater. They had already counted several
hundred bodies, and there were many more to be included. But
Gorgon’s was not among them, and Thorndil hoped that he had not
escaped. They would never lure him again, and he was far too
dangerous an enemy to remain alive any longer.

Thorndil looked around for Rogond, but did not find
him, nor could he find Gaelen. Fima had been especially anxious and
concerned for her. Thorndil smiled as he thought of the old dwarf,
who had proved such a worthy warrior. All were relieved that he
would live. But the absence of his two friends disturbed him, for
he suspected they were now after Gorgon, and the success or failure
of that confrontation would determine whether this Night of
Reckoning had passed, or whether it had merely been delayed.

Gaelen was terribly distressed, as she could find no
sign of Gorgon’s trail. He could not evade her, not now! She took
hold of herself, concentrating on sensing him. She closed her eyes,
even as Gorgon crouched silently on the ledge above her, preparing
to leap down and take her life. She perceived a faint but definite
feeling—it was the same feeling that filled her when she stalked
game and knew that her prey would be taken. It was a sort of
impending triumph, knowing that a goal would be realized. In the
case of the hunt, the goal was to bring meat to the tables of the
Greatwood Elves. In this case, though….