The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor (26 page)

"I find it odd the Council has not acted to
resolve this issue of the moon's demise," Arnanor volunteered. It
had been much on his mind of late and had made his faith in the
great leaders falter. "Two months, and all they can do is sit
within their halls within the Great Tree and debate other
issues."

"The Council was forming a method, I
believe," Seth said uncertainly.

"And the greatest insult I find here is
that they sent
one
of their
servants away, without any knowledge of where to begin. Why could
they not send an entire legion?" Arnanor shook his head and crossed
his arms. "Their magic has turned ill."

"If there is one region that is safe from
illness, it would be Mudalfaen," Randor said. "If we are unlucky in
our search and things grow worse, we will have no choice but to
retreat there."

"Except the princes, of course," Seth added
in his own defense. "I dare not march into Mudalfaen with elvish
royalty at my side. It would be the end of me."

One of the dark-garbed men stood and moved
slowly along the edge of the crowd, surveying the room, while the
other four quaffed their ale. With the great diversity of patrons
in the place, the silent young man attracted no particular
attention. He was not yet close enough to Randor to be detected.
Fortunately, however, Seth's eyes were fixated on the red band on
the figure's right arm as it passed amid the earth-toned colors of
the throng. The red band was fastened securely on his sleeve--with
a black emblem at its middle. Seth rubbed his eyes and stared in
disbelief. "My mind plays with me," he said softly. His statue-like
posture drew the interest of his companions.

Arnanor shot from his seat and leaned his
full weight on the table. "There it is," he said, gritting his
teeth. His hand went immediately to his sword's hilt, halted only
by a slight gesture from Randor.

"Patience," Randor said softly. He could
sense the tension around the table--and indeed, how could he blame
them? Randor wanted answers, too. The figure blended back into the
crowd, and the symbol was no longer in view.

"Did you see who was wearing it?" Lorn
asked.

"No," Seth replied, on the edge of his
chair.

"Let me have a closer look, Randor," Arnanor
pleaded.

"Your wish is granted, brother," Muron said,
leaning in toward Arnanor as they saw the young man appear from
amidst the crowd again.

"Remain calm," Randor whispered sharply.

Sitting back down, Arnanor smoothed his
expression to one of blandness.

The dark figure strolled rigidly across the
floor, his gray eyes scanning every table he passed. His black
overcoat was of fine quality, with long lapels trimmed in red.
Underneath this was a long, dark jacket, and pants tucked tightly
into knee-high boots of black leather. Randor glanced casually to
see if a sword was hidden beneath the coat, but saw none.

All three Northern elves sat very still,
hands on their sword hilts. Randor then leaned forward in his chair
and smoked the last bit of tobacco left in his pipe. The complete
silence of the company was uncomfortable and a little too obvious,
should anyone question their true business here. No one spoke, for
they were too heavily focused on the symbol.

Gildan gazed closest at the man as he walked
past the table, looking directly into his eyes. The elf raised his
glass, easing the tense situation somewhat. And the symbol was gone
once more. "He is returned to the opposite corner of the tavern
now," Gildan remarked.

"Let one of us mime his actions and scour the
room," Arnanor suggested, clearly volunteering for the task.

"That will do us no good," Gildan objected.
"You're asking for trouble."

"That is your opinion."

"He is not alone, I can promise you that,"
said Gildan.

"How are you so sure?" Arnanor wanted to
know.

"Soldiers like that do not travel solo."

"A soldier?" Seth said, surprised.

"Very much so, and an extremist at that."
Gildan turned to Highbinder, who did not comprehend the statement.
"Haven't you learned the appearances of soldiers?"

"Yes," he replied, "But never have I seen one
quite like that. Very oddly dressed--nothing like a typical
military man."

"You do have a point," Gildan said, "but you
must look at the poise and the eyes. These are common traits."

Randor formed a plan while Gildan and
Highbinder discussed the matter further. "Seth," he began, "take
yourself and…" Randor looked each companion over and finished,
"…take Malander and wait outside. Follow the symbol to wherever it
may go locally. Once you find a point of investigation, one of you
return to me and report your findings."

"Yes, sir," Seth replied without
deliberation.

"You two are dismissed."

"Ready, Malander?" Seth asked as he rose.

Malander grumbled something sounding like
"Nonsense!" as he followed the knight outside.

"Do be careful," Lorn whispered to
himself.

"We are gaining steady ground on our quest,"
Gildan said excitedly.

* * *

The two paced the stone walkway in front of
the tavern for what seemed like three hours. Malander grew
impatient at being confined to this area with Seth. Keeping his
arms crossed, he looked down at his feet, placing them one in front
of the other. Boredom came quickly as darkness filled their
surroundings with the chirr of crickets and occasional bursts of
laughter from within the tavern. Leaning on the window that was
closest to their targets, Seth saw that five soldiers of the symbol
sat at a table. To avoid suspicion, he only peered in every so
often. From what he could see, the five sat very close together,
engaged in deep conversation. Many pints were placed before them
and refilled as soon as they became empty, all the while making
great clouds of smoke from their long, white pipes.

"This is a waste of time," Malander snarled.
"I need another drink."

"We're on a specific task," Seth replied.

"Task?" Malander replied, laughing deeply. "I
hate to inform you that this is no formal task, my good knight. We
are mercenaries now."

"Perhaps you are, but I was assigned to this
journey by--"

"Yes, yes," Malander interrupted. "No need to
repeat yourself. Must you keep mentioning Mudalfaen? I'm rather
upset with them right now."

"I am proud of my position beneath them."

"Just keep it to yourself." Malander turned
away and gazed out at the dark, drab street--even that was more
interesting than hearing another yawner about the importance of the
Great Tree. "Bloody Council."

Seth decided not to pester him any more for a
while, though it disturbed him that anyone would ask not to hear
the praises of Mudalfaen. If his memory served him right,
Malander's homeland of Muldane first pledged to the Order of the
Great Tree after the Dark War of the Fourth Age. Perhaps the people
of Muldane had had enough of the Council. Mudalfaen was mostly
populated by elves, though the surrounding kingdoms were not. Seth
could sense a resentment of elves in Malander.

"If I have to wait any longer," Malander
growled, "I will shred the next person I see."

"Hopefully it will not be much longer," Seth
replied confidently.

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say,
for Malander strode over to him, pointing his finger at
Highbinder's chest, and said, "I've just about had my fill of you,
boy. A word or two with those ne'er-do-wells who did this to the
moon would end this entire problem! Then I can rid myself of you
and those elves!"

"Randor would not approve."

"You think I care? He is not my master."

"He is your rightful leader under order of
King Zelok."

"Why did I ever agree to this?" Malander
repented aloud.

Seth faced the window again, sliding his
hands into the warm, deep pockets of his jacket. Time made his
thoughts fly away hundreds of miles to the Realm of Dan, which he
sorely missed. He longed to cross again the winding rivers between
the hills and attend the lavish parades with pipers and with
banners raised high above the streets. How he longed to smell the
flower petals that rained from the tall buildings; he even missed
the way they felt brushing against his face. But these thoughts
only made him miserable now. Shaking off the images of home, he
then noticed that the five soldiers were gone. "We have
movement--yet I do not know when it happened." He pressed up
against the window to see where they went.

"You've lost them?" Malander griped.
"Excellent work."

"No, wait," Seth replied with a relieved
sigh. "They are coming out."

As the door opened, revealing the five
men they had been watching, Seth's heart raced at the sight of the
symbol, and he felt almost sick at how close it was to him. He
couldn't help but watch as the soldiers marched out, all five
looking precisely alike in every way.
Remarkable!
he reflected. When the leader met
his eyes with a mistrustful gaze, Seth began to cough violently.
This only drew more attention to him as the five looked on along
with Malander, who wanted only to strangle his companion for being
so conspicuous.

Next to Fallon's End, the soldiers turned
down a narrow, dim alleyway, where they vanished, with only their
footsteps to attest to their whereabouts. Malander stood before
Seth and shoved him upright, but he could not control the dry
coughs that beset him.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" Malander
blasted.

"I do not know what came over me."

"If we are to follow these devils down the
alley, I don't want you to make a sound, or I will silence you for
good! Understand?" His expression could have killed weeds. Seth did
not want to fall further afoul of Malander, knowing he was no match
for the grim warrior.

"Clear as a Mu--I mean, clear as
morning."

"Hurry before we lose their trail." Malander
grabbed him roughly by his shoulder armor and dragged him down to
the alley's entrance.

Inside they trod softly so as not to repeat
the mistake of the soldiers' loud footfalls. The path ahead was
littered with broken crates, pot shards, and some wooden wheels
once used on merchant carts, and foul smells assailed them as they
stepped nimbly around puddles of water and filth. Seth kept one
hand over his mouth and leaned with the other hand on the slimy
exterior wall of the tavern. He could taste again the ale he had
drunk earlier as it tried to make its way back out.

Finally letting go of him, Malander drew
several steps ahead. There was no sign of the soldiers, but no
other outlet presented itself--thus, the five had to be
hereabouts.

"Surely they have not flown over these high
walls," Malander whispered, stopping his progress to make sense of
it all.

"Why have we stopped?" Seth whispered on
catching up with him. He saw nothing down the path except the
furtive shadows of rodents prowling for scraps among the crates.
"Did the soldiers slip away?"

"Quiet," Malander replied. "You're
ruining my train of thought." Sniffing the air, he smelled a
strange fragrance--it reminded him of a rare flower that grew in
Muldane. But a mixture of molten ash from a volcano corrupted the
sweet smell of the flower.
Why would
anyone want to smell that way?
he wondered. "Let us
go."

As the two followed at a safe distance, the
five soldiers reached the end of the long corridor and stood in a
stone courtyard, near a large castle with many high towers. The
leader clapped his hands for attention while Malander and Seth
watched from the alleyway, crouched behind some rotten barrels. It
seemed that few people ever came this way and that the castle was
abandoned, as if the citizens of Nar-Fhandon had disowned it ages
ago and preferred not to speak of it.

"What do you make of it?" Seth whispered.

"I am still debating."

"I wonder if a clue to the moon's downfall
lies in that castle."

"Don't be too optimistic. It looks like no
one has set foot across that threshold in years."

They remained huddled against the wall for
many long minutes as the leader of the five soldiers continued his
speech. Tired of waiting, Malander decided on his own to make a
move, and he rose and came around the crates, in plain view for all
to see. In a panic, Seth crawled forward, peering around the
barrels. "What are you doing?"

Malander flicked down with his arm behind
him, trying to silence his companion, but Seth stood up, wiping the
debris from his knees. At once the four soldiers with their backs
to Malander, in perfect unison, spun around and drew the swords
concealed beneath their cloaks. Their speed proved worthy, catching
the two by surprise. Outraged at the appearance of the intruders,
the leader broke through the ranks.

"Who are you, and why do you shadow us?"

Neither replied as they stepped backward and
tried to look harmless. Malander very much wanted to draw his sword
and act, leaving the questions for afterward. His hand itched to
move to his weapon, but something inexplicable held him at bay.

The leader strode toward the alley, bearing
down on Malander, whom he no doubt deemed the primary threat. "Why
do you shadow us? I demand a response!"

"You have us all wrong," Seth answered.

"Then you will hasten to tell me of your
intrusion."

"My friend and I are mere travelers, on an
item of business. That is all."

"I think not," replied the leader. "By your
badge I trust you not. What is your name, Council follower?"

"I am Sir Seth Highbinder, son of Master
Jansonot."

The leader looked at both men closely and
came to a quick conclusion. "Since when does a brainwashed servant
of Mudalfaen travel alone with a high knight of Muldane? Explain
your business thoroughly if you wish to live."