The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor (33 page)

"No!" Malander cried out, overhearing the
conversation. Bharot's sword ground against Malander's, and the two
glared at each other. "No! Don't even think about it, wizard!"
Bharot laughed at his opponent's imprudence.

Suddenly, from the darkened stairwell behind
Randor and company, a chain like the one that had nearly ended
Malander's life shot through the air from behind the company,
grazing Randor's hair in passing. Caught up in their mutual hatred,
neither Malander nor Bharot heard or saw it come directly toward
them, then divert its path, curving slightly as it wrapped itself
around both men's weapons and held them fast.

Uncharacteristically, Bharot froze, at a loss
what to do. His many long years of training had never prepared him
for this. Malander saw the general's confusion and took advantage,
driving a deep knee thrust into his enemy's unprotected midsection.
Bharot fell backward and let go his entangled sword. Malander, also
unable to free his weapon from the chain, let go as well, leaving
both blades caught in the hovering chain.

The general, clenching his stomach, slowly
straightened and, tossing the rolled banner back to his soldiers,
shouted, "Give me another blade!" The soldier who caught the relic
opened the front of his coat, drew his sword, and tossed it to
Bharot. The new weapon was slightly lighter and thinner than his
customary choice of weapon, but it would have to do.

Malander backed away from his inaccessible
sword, frustrated that he could not hold his greatest possession
and only friend. He knew that asking Randor for aid would prove
unhelpful, for he had been unable to do anything about the chain
earlier. Seeing Bharot approaching, Malander clenched his fists. He
would have to trust to his swift kicks and punches, which were just
as honed as his skills with the sword. In fact, Malander enjoyed
hand-to-hand combat, for he could better feel the blows he
inflicted on his unfortunate enemies.

Bharot moved forward nonchalantly, knowing
now was the moment to rid himself of this foe.

"Give him your blade, Seth!" Lorn cried as
Bharot approached to within only a few steps of Malander.

But before Seth could process what was asked
of him, Malander shouted, "See what I can do without a crafted
weapon. I will show him my diverse skills as a warrior!"

"Hand combat is inferior to our ways," Bharot
explained. "Your trust in your hands will be the end of you."

"Your narrow mind will be your undoing."

The chain began to tremble and quickly
retracted whence it came, sending the two blades end over end deep
into a crevice in the stone wall, far from the combatants' reach.
Randor stared at the door behind him and turned to the Northern
elves. "Arnanor?"

"I am listening."

"You and yours keep watch of the rear
entrance."

"So be it," Arnanor replied.

"We can ill afford an ambush." The Northern
elves turned about and kept close watch, mind and body on guard. "I
have a feeling this will grow worse."

Bharot pressed the attack, directing his new
blade in every way possible. At first Malander simply parried the
attacks, dodging from side to side, moving like a mighty cat ready
to pounce on its prey. Though the general's blade cut through the
air with tremendous speed, Malander found that avoiding the blows
was easier than he imagined. He could sense the confusion of his
opponent that still lingered after the chain's inexplicable
appearance, and after an ill-timed lunge from Bharot, he began his
assault. Fists, hand edges, and open palms struck Bharot on all the
vulnerable points of his body, taking a vicious toll on his neck,
ribs, and internal organs. Knocking him farther back, the grim
knight finished with a kick that lifted Bharot and dropped him
violently on floor. Blood flowed from his mouth as Malander stood
ready to deliver more. It was the best Malander had felt since the
fight with the Mazazuken.

"I--I don't understand," Bharot cried, wiping
the blood from his face. "This banner is powerless!"

"Randor," Arnanor whispered, "I can see
movement within the shadows--those monks again, no doubt."

"Do we hold our ground?" Seth asked.

"Yes," Randor ordered, "Let them in. It is
time we finished this."

In that instant Nugalas soared into the
room to hover above Randor and the others. All turned their
attention to the laughing evil that floated above them. Nugalas
appeared to be alone.
"Xen mouten grust
fon grentoh."

Malander and Bharot, their fight interrupted,
retired to their respective sides, the general falling back first.
Seeing that the center of the chamber was cleared, Nugalas
descended, touching down as softly as a dropped feather, and turned
toward Randor. But by focusing on Randor, he allowed Bharot to
gather his men and flee down the corridor nearest them. Randor
moved Malander aside, desiring to further his understanding of the
dark priest.

"Ghen-ahros tah."
Nugalas formed a rectangle of his hands, then made tight
fists, which he shook violently.
"Ahros
tah!"

"What do you guess he means or wants?" Muron
asked, baffled.

"The banner," Arnanor answered.

"You are correct," Randor added. "The
soldiers have escaped with Aldrenos."

"Where did they go?" Seth asked, surprised he
had missed their exit. "Did you see them leave, Lorn?"

"No, I was not paying attention to them."

Nugalas turned sharply and snarled, finding
the burglars gone from his sight. Enraged, he ran to the door and
peered down into the stairway, seeing no trace of the banner. With
a blood-curdling howl, he turned to face the company with fangs
exposed, gleaming in the pale light. Randor gathered his companions
closer to him and prepared for another encounter with the wily
priest. Slowly the wizard directed the throng backward.

Overcome with rage, Nugalas could no
longer hold back his powers, and with a withering glare, he
shouted,
"Einxas oenfex
aui-uthinah!"
Raising his hands, he released his
infamous chain from out of his long sleeves. In no time at all it
would be within the middle of the company.

"We won't make it!" Seth gasped as he tried
to hurry those in his way out the door.

As the iron weapon of Nugalas crossed the
midpoint of the chamber, a sword shot through the air from the
doorway off to their left, catching Nugalas unaware as it passed
through a chain link and veered it from its intended path, wedging
it deep into a crack in the stone wall, next to Malander's sword.
Still Nugalas tried to control his power, struggling to free the
chain by the force of his mind.

"Did you see that, Randor?" Arnanor
asked.

"I am afraid not."

The eight stopped their helter-skelter flight
because the threat had ended. They turned and faced Nugalas, unsure
just what he planned next, but guessing that the priest had more
than one attack up his sleeve.

Randor looked to the stairwell to his left
where the blade shot from, but all that he could see was smoke,
rolling off the top of the archway of the door. The gray smoke
brought with it a wondrous aroma of flowers, a smell that made
Randor crave his own pipe. Then, in a dramatic entrance, a highly
decorated soldier of the symbol strode in. With a long, red pipe in
his mouth, he darted his cold eyes about the room; then, looking to
Nugalas, he laughed and shook his head in pity for the priest, who
turned and, with a cry of rage, fled down the stairs after the
banner, caring no more for Randor or anyone else.

Malander, who wanted only to finish his
fight, said, "Bharot!"

The soldier blew out a great cloud of smoke
and sighed as he lowered his beautiful pipe to his side, as one
might lower a sword. "Do not insult me again. How could you
possibly cross me with that amateur?"

"Then who are you?" Malander wanted to
know.

"General Helfare."

"Are you a member of this High Order?" Gildan
asked.

"No, I am no longer a part of this order you
speak of."

"So you are not with them?" Malander asked,
distrusting Helfare's words. Already he knew that these soldiers
had no honor, and this one seemed no different. "I find this
information hard to believe." He crossed his arms and awaited the
real answer.

"You must believe me, my friends."

"I am not your friend," Malander was quick to
say. "Know this now and keep my words in your brainwashed
head!"

Helfare slowly approached the others, who
raised their guard, unsure of his motives. He brought up his hands,
showed only his pipe, and indicated that he would not attempt any
sudden aggressive movements. "I mean you no harm. I am unarmed."
Opening his dark jacket, he exposed the empty sheath of his sword,
still lodged in the wall, where it held the priest's chain.

The members of Randor's company were torn at
the thought of siding with this tall, young, obviously accomplished
swordsman. "See here, dear sirs, I am utterly incapable of doing
you physical harm." And though Randor thought Helfare a well-spoken
gentleman, he was still skeptical.

"But you still possess the forked tongue
common to all your kind. Slice it from your mouth, and then the
eight of us shall be kinder in dealing with you!" Malander
exchanged evil glares with Helfare, not yielding to his speech.

"What has brought the eight of you here to a
place such as this?" Helfare was very sly and graceful with his
question. "It is dangerous here for such a…small squad of
folk."

Malander, who had enough of the newcomer,
spoke up. "Now, you listen to…"

"Calm yourself," Helfare advised. "I do wish
to know the outline of your business. I can clearly see you all do
not work together well."

"You are wrong, sir," Seth protested.

"Not to mention that none of you don similar
armor or symbol--royal party excluded, of course." The Northern
elves looked mutely at one another. "All I do know at this point is
that the eight of you must be on some sort of quest benefiting each
of your kind: man, elf, and dwarf." Helfare studied the company a
moment longer and turned to the leader. "You, my good wizard, must
be a Randor of Ethindar."

"Indeed," the wizard answered.

"But which Randor you are, I cannot guess. I
have not heard of a Randor attired in blue." Helfare puffed on his
pipe. "Perhaps you are new to this world."

"I am Randor Miithra, and no, there has not
been a new Randor in many Ages."

"What are your tidings, Miithra?"

"My tidings are great and far too deep to
give in any detail. You, General Helfare, can just call me Randor,
for this is what people simply refer to me as these days."

"One of the Seven Wielders of Ethindar going
only by his title? Tidings are strange." Helfare looked the other
seven over. "Surely you can share your adventure with me. Perhaps I
can assist you along the way." He still could not gain their trust,
but he pressed on. "By the Mighty Hand of Ethindar, I swear to you
that I intend no ill toward you." He bowed humbly before Randor.
"You have my solemn oath."

"On your oath to my Master," Randor began,
"I, for one, will take your trust sincerely."

"You cannot be serious!" an incredulous
Arnanor said.

"For once I agree with the elf-prince," said
Malander. "We cannot afford him in our circle."

"This decision is mine alone," Randor
announced, brooking no argument. "We have the symbol within our
grasp now. Have you no wish to heal this world?"

"If the world is a concern, then my aid to
you is in sore demand." Helfare spoke as one in tune with their
mission. "I have guessed your secrecy," he said confidently. "Is
Beldas a spark in your emotions?"

Arnanor stepped forward and pointed at
Helfare. "What did I tell you? These men did in fact steal our
beloved moon--and I will wager that this particular one did the
stealing."

"I am sorry to report that my powers do pass
into the realm of magic, but only my former master could perform
such a feat of evil. Not even Randor could conjure such magic, I
would say."

"I could pull the moon from the heavens
if I only wished to sacrifice both myself and Londor in the act.
Never, though, would I destroy this wonderful planet that has given
me such wisdom and life." Randor was drawn back in reflection, but
suddenly one of Helfare's words struck him. "
Former
master, you say?"

"Yes, sir, he is former, and that how it will
remain," Helfare replied, the disgust evident in his voice. "I
still find it hard to believe that he was actually strong enough to
do this."

"Take me to him at once!" Malander
shouted.

"Never do I wish to return there. I can tell
you anything that you wish to know to further your cause and
perhaps lead you close to his realm, but I will never return to
him. Already have I wasted fifteen years of my life in his kingdom,
and that was quite enough!"

Randor intervened and reminded the general,
"You swore your oath to me, and I will not let you break it, nor
shall you depart from my side as long as I deem you under my
service." Helfare hung his head at the wizard's strong words, for
he knew the ones that would follow. "Your trust is bound with
guiding us into your former homeland."

"As it is, Randor, you are correct on this
account," Helfare replied. "Though it pains me greatly, and I know
that the pain will increase on our arrival there…" He paused. "I
will show you the path into Valadure, for I will never break an
oath, not even to you. I should have known you would ask this of
me."

"Precisely what I expected to hear," Randor
smiled.

"On with your tidings," Gildan urged.