Light Of Loreandril (20 page)

Gaular looked up from sharpening Eilendan’s sword. He crinkled his nose in disagreement. “Did I just hear you call yourself friendly?” A wide, toothy grin spread across his dark face as he threw back his head in loud, booming laughter. “Friendly? Maybe if you’ve got good food in your stomach and you haven’t been strapped to that horse of yours all day!” The dwarf carried on sharpening the sword, his shoulders still jiggling up and down with laughter.

“I resent that comment, Gaular. I am merely trying to be accommodating and friendly to our new companions.”

“I wouldn’t get too friendly, Gomel. We still know very little about them!” Nymril snapped, clearly unimpressed by the gnome’s friendliness. The elves’ long, deep conversation had now finished and a decision appeared to have been made.

“Nymril, perhaps we should find out more about them now. We must not judge them too hastily.” Eilendan was the calming voice of reason as usual. “Gentlemen, I think that you owe us an explanation.”

“You want to know how we found that.” Nechan pointing at the strange cloth-covered object that now sat in Nymril’s lap.

Eilendan nodded.

Nechan took a breath, glanced at his brother and began divulging the details of their adventure so far. He did not spare the details. He began right from when their parents first decided that they had to leave home, about the fireball and how they found the orb, when and where they met Tavor and finally finishing with how they got to be where they were that night. Barnon would have been proud. Nechan had clearly picked up many tips over the years of listening to his ancient tales and delivered his personal story with great zeal.

 When the narration was finished, their captors sat in silence digesting every word they had heard. The story seemed plausible, including how they came to be in possession of the Aeonorgal. Nymril sat with her head in her hands, apparently more confused about what to do now. Jaidan, however, had not yet taken his eyes off Tavor. There was something that just did not feel right about him.

“Runaways! What are we going to do with them now?” moaned Gaular, shaking his head.

“He’s right. This does complicate things.”  Jaidan sighed, looking troubled as he studied the twins.

“So, is that thing yours?” Cradon asked. It felt very strange to see someone else holding it.

Nymril nodded, holding back a smile. “It is called the Aeonorgal, or Spirit Star in your tongue. And yes, it belongs to the Elves.” Nymril cupped her hands around it, stroking the heavily embroidered cloth, before finally placing it in her saddlebag. Nechan inhaled sharply, remembering Barnon had mentioned this the last time they spoke.

“Why have you hidden it away? It’s so beautiful.” Cradon longed to look into it one more time and watch the strange mists swirl and glow, encased in their silver prison.

Nymril’s cold, frosty demeanour at last softened, and she gave him a small, understanding smile. “So, you’ve seen its hidden secrets, clansman?” Perhaps they were harmless after all. Most evil, be it beast or man, could not bear to be in the presence of the white light, and only the strongest-willed such as the Rjukhan could bare to touch or look into the Aeonorgal. These two boys must be pure-hearted.

“Perhaps you would like this back too? I assume that it also belongs to you.” Nechan pulled out the silver chain and precious locket that Barnon had given him. Although he did not want to part with it, he knew that it did not really belong to him.

“You have an aeonthel,” Nymril gasped, outstretching her hand. “Only Aeon Elves such as myself possess these. Where did you find this?”

Nechan let it fall into her small palm, the silver chain coiling. She studied it closely, inspecting the intricate engravings, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is……I can hardly believe it. This is the aeonthel that belonged to Gileadon. It was assumed lost or destroyed. How did it come to be in your possession?”

“A friend of mine was given it by his father and he gave it to us. He said it had been in their family for many generations,” Nechan explained, his cheeks flushing with awkwardness.

“What does this mean, Nymril?” Eilendan asked.

“I am not sure yet.” She moved to hang it around her neck, but something stayed her hand. In her heart she knew the aeonthel had entered the boy’s life for a reason. He carried a strange aura about him, one that she had not seen before in a clansman. Much to Nechan’s surprise, Nymril placed the shining sphere back onto his shaking palm. He paused for a moment, not understanding. The elf nodded and Nechan hung it back around his neck, hiding it under his tunic once more.

“Nymril?” Eilendan was just as surprised as Nechan.

“I do not understand yet, but I am sure all will become clear upon our return. The Elders may know what the Earth Spirits’ wishes are.”

“Return?” Tavor piped up. “So you will be leaving us here?”

“No. You have witnessed too much. You will have to accompany us.” Eilendan commanded.

“What? Why?” Tavor shouted defiantly. “You will have to force me. And, I will not let you take these two young boys out into the wilderness with you.” He was hoping to delay, buying time for Govan to come to his rescue. The comrades did not take kindly to his outburst and immediately drew their weapons, expecting Tavor to charge them.

“Force you we can, but that is not our wish.” Eilendan held the tip of his sword towards Tavor who stared defiantly back.

“Why would a Brathunder turn down an opportunity to walk with Elves once more? Perhaps he has something to hide? My advice would be to slay him here,” Jaidan hissed through clenched teeth, an arrow poised and ready to fire on command.

“Please, wait! Wait!! He’s our friend. Please don’t hurt him.” Cradon sprang up to stand in front of Tavor, blocking their target.

“Cradon is right. Perhaps if you explain why we have to go with you and for how long, that will help,” Nechan implored. He might not have trusted Tavor, but he certainly did not want to see him killed.

Jaidan cast a glance at Eilendan, waiting for his command.

“Stop!” The clansman relented. “I will go with you.” Tavor pushed past the twins, holding his arms in the air. He was unsure whether he was doing the right thing, but after much deliberation with himself he had decided that the best course would be to stay with the group and wait for Govan’s ambush. Returning to the Empire as a failure would certainly mean death. This was his only hope.

He hung his head and explained. “You must forgive me. I have spent so many years alone, in exile, as you well know.” He looked at Jaidan, whose stern face and eyes softened slightly with sympathetic understanding. “This…..is all strange for me. Surely you understand that as a fellow clansman?”

Jaidan took a deep breath and lowered his arrow. He nodded at Eilendan, then turned and went to sit in a shady corner of the camp. It was true that he understood what it was to be a banished clansman of the Empire, but still his instincts said Tavor was not to be trusted.  Pulling his cloak tightly round his neck to seal out the cold night air he decided he would sit and watch Tavor, studying his moves and words, with the hope of learning his true motives.

“You will travel with us then?” Eilendan asked one more time.

The boys and Tavor nodded in agreement.

“But, where are we will you be taking us?” Nechan queried.

“Loreandril. The Heart of Elvendon.”

Nechan’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing those words. As he turned to look at Cradon, neither needed to say a single word. They could read each other’s expressions clearly. The Elves were going to take them to Loreandril! Tavor, however, was not so thrilled at the prospect.

The karzon had ridden their new, rabid animals swiftly in an attempt to reach the Aeonorgal before the Elves and their comrades. They had been plagued by considerable delays, finding it difficult to track the Aeonorgal: it seemed to be moving on a very aimless course. Vlandac and his faithful followers were becoming increasingly frustrated.

They came thundering through the forest, hooves pounding and cloaks billowing, with no heed for how much noise they made. Javil and the rest of the soldiers scattered as the karzon and their black horses stampeded into the camp. Govan, however, stood his ground and did not even flinch as Vlandac rode his horse at full pelt, straight towards him, stopping a mere inch in front of his face. Many of the soldiers discreetly covered their noses, keeping their distance, not wanting to inhale the strange stench that lingered around the karzon. It was said this smell was part of the mind-magic, aiding the deception of their true visage.

“You’re late. What has taken you so long?” Govan was undeterred by sight of the karzon  fleet.

Vlandac replied first with a hissing screech that was almost unbearable to the soldiers’ ears. Even Govan doubled up, clutching his head. Vlandac laughed. “Come now, Govan, you know that is no way to address me!”

Govan straightened up as Vlandac pushed his horse several paces closer to intimidate him. Govan did not flinch. He was angry that his men had been forced to wait so long for the karzon. The delay, whatever the reason, could destroy all hope of returning the Spirit Star to the Rjukhan - a thought that did not bear thinking about. People thought the karzon were ruthless but they did not compare to the Rjukhan, their masters and creators.

“Do you know what your delay may have cost us?”

Again, in fury, Vlandac screeched loudly, the piercing noise echoing around the glen and making the soldiers wince in agony once more. Even the horses stamped their hooves with the discomfort. Govan clenched his jaws, not wanting to recoil a second time at the sound.

“I dislike your insolent tone, soldier!” Vlandac hissed. He and his followers had not yet dismounted their horses; instead they sat staring at the uneasy troops. They were keen to get it over and done, resentful that they had been ordered to fight alongside these mere men. While they knew they had failed with their first ambush, they would not do so again. The karzon knew what to expect now.

“Need I remind you why we are still out here? Your first attempt at recovering the Star failed, and now, because of you, this assault may fail. Things are no longer as simple as we originally thought.”  

Govan explained the situation in detail, describing what they were up against, as Vlandac and his followers listened. “I suggest we make our move now, rather then wait for first light. We cannot afford to give them time to prepare for the attack. They will suspect an ambush, I am sure of it.”

Vlandac motioned that he agreed with Govan’s advice and commanded his followers to ready themselves for attack. Govan and Javil ordered their men to do the same. They were fully prepared to unleash war on the unsuspecting comrades to recapture the Aeonorgal once and for all. They could not afford to make another mistake. As soon as the final preparations were complete, they left the camp and headed out with deadly silence towards the travellers.

The camp was completely still, except for the occasional crackle and spark from the fire. The comrades were all asleep, preparing themselves for the long days ahead on their journey home. Gaular and Jaidan had requested to be put on watch, both uneasy about the events that were slowly unfolding, and neither trusted Tavor.

 “There is just something not right about him.” Jaidan’s eyes were fixed on Tavor’s slumbering body as if expecting him at any moment to spring up and attack him.

“I trust your judgement, Jaidan. You of all people would know how to read someone from your own clan.”

“He does not carry himself like a Brathunder. Nor does he have the understanding and knowledge of Elves.”

“Then why did we untie him?” Gaular growled, his troubled brow deeply furrowed. They paused for a moment as Tavor stirred in his sleep, but he did not wake.

“What better way to make someone trip up and reveal his true self? Untied, he is more likely to drop his guard and make a mistake.”

Gaular nodded, understanding what Jaidan meant. In silence they continued to keep watch. An eerie quietness had fallen on the camp and the surrounding woods.

The silence was broken. From the darkness there was an unmistakable twang and snap of a bow and arrow. It hummed past Jaidan, narrowly missing his head as he ducked out of the way. He rolled to the left and grabbed his bow, instantly stringing an arrow ready for a shot. Gaular grabbed his war hammer and heaved it over his wide shoulder, ready to swing at the first thing he saw.

“Ambush!” he bellowed, alerting his slumbering comrades.

The boys woke, startled at the sound of Gaular’s cry. They scrambled around, scared, unsure of what was happening and how to react. Their instinct was to run, but their bodies were paralysed with fear. Nymril flung back her blanket, unsheathing her sword and shouldering her shield in one swift movement as she got to her feet. Eilendan and Gomel shook themselves quickly from their sleep and drew their weapons, studying the surrounding tree line, searching for their attackers in the outlying darkness.

The air became filled with the loud clamour of shouts and yells as if challenging them. Another torrent of arrows came raining down, the horses taking most of them. They whinnied and fell down dying, their crimson blood seeping out onto the dry woodland floor. Only Sonda and Nechan’s horse, Danfor, escaped, bolting as the comrades ducked out of the way behind tree trunks and fallen logs.

It was quickly apparent that they were surrounded, with little chance of escape now they had no horses.

From the dark, a harsh voice could be clearly heard. “Attack!”

There was a strange rumble through the ground as the Karvathan soldiers burst into the small glen, closely followed by tall karzon mounted on black, wild horses. They crashed through, brandishing their weapons and yelling at the top of their lungs. Jaidan let loose several arrows, the first two hitting their intended targets perfectly, the soldiers falling dead, impaled through the heart and neck. But before he could fire another shot, other soldiers were upon him. He was forced to resort to his sword, defending himself from the frenzied blows and slashes. It was soon clear that he was fighting a losing battle.