Ravenshade Page 22

  “None for me, thank you. I have come to share my intentions, if you would know of them.”

  “Please do,” said Fima, putting his manuscripts aside and turning in his chair so that Orrion had his absolute attention. Kotos studied Fima’s eyes with care. The doubt still lingered within them, but it had been overcome now by curiosity.

  “I intend to leave the Citadel tonight and continue to wherever I am called,” said Orrion. “I do not yet know where that will be, but my purpose here has been fulfilled. The people have been warned of Lord Wrothgar.” He paused to allow Fima the chance to react—to speak if he would—yet the dwarf was silent. “I do wish fate would reveal a clear path, but alas, it seems I must walk in uncertainty. I regret leaving this place, and these people, who have made me so welcome. Most of all, I regret leaving the library. There is so much that I would learn.”

  This was a sentiment Fima could well understand. “Why must you leave now?” he asked. “I understand that you have accomplished your purpose here, but we were just beginning to know you.”

  Exactly the problem, thought Gorgon. “I cannot say,” he replied, his expression veiled. “Please do not press me about it. I could so easily be talked into staying, yet I have felt the call of my destiny, which should not be denied. Say nothing of our meeting to the others, I beg you. I came here only as a courtesy, for I had begun to relish your company and our lively talks of history and lore. I shall miss you.”

  Orrion extended his hand, Fima took it, and Gorgon was alone in the person of Orrion.

  “Farewell, and safe journey,” said Fima, unaware that anything had happened. “I shall miss our conversations. One day we must be reunited, for you never finished recounting your recollections of the First Uprising and the building of Tal-elathas. Until that day, then.”

  Fima released Orrion’s very large hand and bowed before him. Orrion returned the gesture, and left the chamber. He stalked through the dark streets, returning to his own chamber for his provisions and armor.

  In truth, he was glad to leave the City. How could he have ever thought of remaining here? Lord Kotos was right…it had seduced him and drawn him away from his purpose. In fact, the reason Gorgon wanted to leave was that he was now filled with fear. He could never be comfortable in such surroundings without his dreadful guardian. The sooner he resumed his solitary life, the sooner he could breathe easily again. It would be mid-day ere the citizens would discover that Orrion had donned his golden armor and left them, for they would neither see him nor hear him, and he would leave no trace of his passing.

  Kotos settled into the person of Fima Lore-master with some difficulty, as the mind of a dwarf was unfamiliar territory. Once he remembered that he could not take charge, things became easier, yet Kotos was not comfortable with simply being carried about—he was far more accustomed to being in control. Ah, well, no matter…he would not be required to endure this indignity for long. He only needed to remain long enough to ensure that the seed he had planted took root as anticipated. He wondered about the origin of the mistrust he had seen in the old dwarf’s eyes, but even as he could not control Fima, neither could he gain access to his thoughts. The halls of a dwarf’s mind were closed to him.

  Fima viewed Orrion’s departure with mixed feelings. He would certainly miss the insights and recollections the Elf had favored him with—Orrion had been a great gift and Fima had written down every word—but he held doubts. These small, nagging doubts, had grown into genuine misgivings after Aryiah’s memorial service. Dwarves, of all the races of Alterra, held the closest bond with ravens, and though Karatsu was not a raven, he was a distant cousin. The tongue of ravens and crows is not all that different, and Fima had been one of very few at the service who actually understood what the bird had been trying to say.

  The early morning sun found Gaelen at the horse-yards, as usual. Because she had taken on the responsibility of training Toran, she assumed some of his care. Now she shook her head as she beheld the untidy state of his shed and paddock. It was not typical of stallions to be so careless. They usually took great care in placing their droppings, as they used them to mark territory. Finan, for example, would leave a single large pile, one pile only, and the remainder of his environs would stay clean and dry.

  Toran behaved more as a spoiled child, strewing his hay about when it did not meet his expectations, not caring how filthy his paddock became. Gaelen was exasperated.

  She lugged the heavy wooden cart into the enclosure with a sigh. Cleaning up after Toran was always a struggle, for he viewed it as a game and would not leave her in peace. He had even managed to turn over the full cart on one occasion, making her so angry that she threw a stone at him. He had not done such a thing since, but he still would follow her about the paddock, pestering her for attention.

  Today, however, things were different. He stood in the doorway to his shed, watching her but not bothering her. His mood was somber for the first time since she had known him. At first, she was worried that he might be ill, and stopped her labors long enough to check on him. His heart and lungs were fine, and he was not fevered. She could hear the normal rumblings of a healthy gut. He had been eating and drinking, and she had plenty of normal droppings to contend with. Toran was troubled, but he was not ill.

  What is it? What melancholy has taken you? Are you fearful?

  She remembered his reaction to Orrion when she had encountered him only two nights ago. She had not seen Toran since; other matters had required her attention. You threatened Orrion because you feared him, didn’t you? She stroked his long face as he dipped it down before her and closed his eyes. There is something not right about him. I don’t know why, and I know it makes no sense, but I was afraid for my life. I don’t blame you for being fearful. She patted him again.

  “Now, cheer up! I will protect you from the terrible High-elf, have no fear!” But Toran’s dread ran deep, and not even Gaelen could take it from him.

  “He has not been himself since yesterday,” said Khandor, who had appeared at the paddock gate. “I was hoping you could enlighten me. Did something happen that I should know about?”

  “Before I answer, please allow me to ask a question of you,” said Gaelen. “Has Toran ever threatened anyone? I mean, really threatened them, not in a playful way?”

  Khandor’s surprise showed immediately on his guileless face. “That horse has never had a threatening thought in his life that I’m aware of. When did you observe him threatening anyone?”

  For a moment Gaelen wondered whether she should confide in him, but she knew he was trustworthy. “The night before last, I was riding out over the foothills, when something frightened Toran such that he stopped hard enough to unseat me. I might have broken my neck. When I recovered, I saw Orrion just standing in the shadows, and when I looked over at Toran, he was standing with his ears back and his nose wrinkled—everything short of baring his teeth. I had never seen such an expression in him before.”

  Khandor considered. “Orrion, you say? That makes no sense. I can understand why Toran was startled… Orrion probably appeared out of nowhere. Horses have better senses than we do.”

  “Not better than I do,” said Gaelen. “But I will admit, my thoughts were wandering and I was not paying attention to my surroundings. Toran probably saw Orrion out of the corner of his eye, and it no doubt startled him. But then, why did he threaten?”

  Khandor paused again before answering. “What is your opinion of Orrion?”

  “Ahhh…I am uncertain of him,” said Gaelen after a moment.

  “You mean you don’t trust him?” asked Khandor.

  “If I may speak plainly, and know that you will repeat nothing you hear, then I will state that I do not remotely trust him,” said Gaelen with conviction. It felt so good to finally say it.

  “Then might I offer an explanation for Toran’s behavior?” said Khandor. “He has obviously bonded with you, and has picked up on your mistrust. He threatens Orrion because you find Orrion to be thre
atening. Toran has given himself over to his new partner.”

  Gaelen shook her head. “To be my partner, we both must agree to the partnership. I have not allowed such a bond with Toran…you have set me to the task of training him for Lord Salastor.”

  “Did I not tell you?” said Khandor.

  “Tell me what?”

  “My apologies. I thought I had told you…Salastor has chosen another mount. You are free to take Toran for your own, Gaelen. No one else wants him.”

  How convenient, thought Gaelen, though for just a moment she bristled at the thought of anyone’s not finding Toran acceptable. Then she remembered how exasperating he was.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I could not have made such a bond, even if I had been free to do so. I don’t know whether I ever will. There must be another explanation.” Her eyes smoldered through unshed tears. Khandor took notice at once.

  “I understand that you feel both sorrow and anger,” he said. “You still grieve for Finan, and you are angry because you believe that you have betrayed his memory by opening your heart to Toran, even a little bit. Gaelen, Finan is gone. He is gone, and Toran stands here knowing that he is not Finan, but still wanting to be your friend and worthy mount. Can you not just allow him to be Toran, and accept him for what he is?”

  “You mean accept him for the untidy, annoying, juvenile, inconvenient, untested creature that he is?”

  “Yes. And also accept him for the swift, strong, handsome, tireless, graceful future battle-mount that he is. If Finan were here, he would grieve to see you without a horse.”

  “If Finan were here, I would not be without a horse!” cried Gaelen, who could no longer quell her tears. She threw her pitchfork to the ground in frustration, vaulted over the paddock fence, and disappeared before Khandor could stop her.

  After she had gone, Toran emerged from the shed, looking and calling after her. “It’s no use, my friend,” said Khandor. “You will not convince her today. She will need to consider things for a while longer. Never mind—none of this is your fault. Come and have some breakfast.”

  Gaelen had stopped running, and now her face burned with tears of shame. She had been rude to Khandor, and she was not being fair to Toran. Why was this situation so difficult? She knew why Toran had threatened Orrion. It was not because he had bonded with her, for she knew that such a close connection had not yet been made. There was only one other explanation that made any sense, and that was that Orrion was evil. Not just odd, but actually evil. And although she would keep this insight to herself for the moment, it did not dismay her when Nelwyn finally found her in the afternoon and informed her that Orrion had left the City without a trace.

  Chapter 10

  THE RISING OF THREE MOONS

  The news of Orrion’s departure disappointed many of the people, for they admired and respected him. He had, in fact, been the subject of various flights of imagination and had visited the dreams of many. When the citizens asked why Orrion had gone, the Council told them only that he had felt the need to see to his affairs elsewhere. They shook their heads in regret, hoping that he had approved of their hospitality and that his going had not stemmed from any failure to please him.

  Though not surprised, Gaelen was amazed at the extent of their devotion. Orrion had not been in the City long, and yet the people almost grieved at his going. If all it takes is impressive stature and a handsome face, I should rethink my position concerning the respect I hold for the people of Dûn Arian…

  Yet she knew that their admiration involved more than Orrion’s seven-foot height or his golden hair…she had been lulled by him more than once. She had seen many things in Orrion’s gaze, including the promise of peace and happiness, and the attaining of one’s desire. He had drawn her back to the Greatwood, for it was her heart’s desire to return there and never leave again. Orrion’s eyes had promised that it would be so.

  Because Gaelen’s suspicions had begun even before Orrion had the chance to beguile her, she had overcome his efforts. And, once it is seen and recognized, a snake is easily avoided. She had since been accumulating evidence in support of her suspicions—this last incident with Toran had confirmed them.

  What she did not understand was the exact nature of the tie between Orrion and Gorgon Elfhunter. Now that Orrion had gone she was not likely to, which was a pity in her mind. It was also a pity that she could not express her doubts to the people of the City, for they would not have been well received. She decided to keep her thoughts to herself for the time being.

  Gaelen believed that she was alone in those thoughts, but a few of her friends also held doubts. Rogond, Fima, Galador, and Azori each had noticed incidents, coincidences, and peculiarities that did not sit easily upon their minds. Yet because none would share them, the doubts would not be confirmed. Now that Orrion had gone, there was no need to worry about his influence any longer. The suspicions faded with each day that passed.

  No one, not even Gaelen, would know that the greater evil was still among them. Lord Kotos dwelled alone with his thoughts in the person of Lore-master Fima. From there he could take notice of whatever goings-on Fima was privy to without being detected by anyone, but he could not exert any influence over Fima, other than to impart some strength and vigor to his body.

  Rogond, who spent more time with Fima than many, noticed the change. His friend was not as quickly winded, and the persistent coughing had left him. His face plumped out, and the normal ruddy coloring returned. Rogond thought he even noticed a few strands of dark red hair in Fima’s snowy beard. Before it had gone silver, Fima’s hair had been dark auburn as with many folk of his line.

  Rogond remarked on it as they took supper together. “Whatever you have been eating, my friend, keep on eating it. I have not seen you look so well in a long while.”

  Fima laughed. “It might not be the eating, but the drinking that is making me feel so vigorous. I have only recently discovered this wonderful, fine ale. Pray, have some!” He filled two clay tankards and offered one to Rogond, who had to agree that it was excellent. He doubted that the ale, while excellent, was the source of whatever miracle had befallen Fima, but he was so pleased to see his friend in good health that he didn’t care.

  Gaelen made her apologies to Toran, spending extra time currying him and riding him every day. Khandor took notice, smiling as he watched them together. It would not be long now.

  Siva was nearing her foaling time, and so Gaelen spent part of each day with her, though the mare was moody and uncomfortable. “Never mind,” said Gaelen, stroking Siva with a soothing hand. “Soon your discomfort will end, and you will have a lovely new foal at your side. I wish you could tell me who sired your little one. Well, I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Siva nuzzled Gaelen, as though entreating her to bring the whole uncomfortable business to an end. She circled her deep bed of straw several times before lying heavily on her side. She groaned as though in pain, but Gaelen knew that it was simply from the effort to breathe. Lying down beside the mare, Gaelen began to sing to her and to her foal, and soon Siva felt much better. In her womb, the foal heard the song of the Elves for the first time in his life, and his small, soft hooves began to move gently, as though striding in rhythm.

  The first full moon since the departure of Orrion rose like a beautiful golden orb over the City, casting light that was at first warm, but would later turn blue and cold as the rich gold gave way to hard, white silver. Gaelen preferred starlight to moonlight, yet she would ride out over the desert lands this night as she did every night. The rains had come, and a clear sky was welcome, yet she had seen distant lightning flickering in the tall clouds gathering over the sea. Gaelen put her nose into the wind. The storm will come within the next few hours…this will be a short ride, then.

  Toran moved easily over the uneven ground. They had already made the distance to the pass through the brown hills and looked now upon the sands beyond. The desert smelled wonderful, as it was in flow
er, and the rains had brought forth life in places one would never expect. Most wonderful of all was the broad, flat expanse of water that once had been a lake; it was filled again for the first time in a hundred years. It was nearly four miles across and only about three feet deep at its deepest point. The water was warm and full of rejuvenating minerals. This was Gaelen’s destination, and she took Toran into the waters, exercising his limbs and soothing his tendons at the same time. He was breathing hard, and so she halted, allowing him to merely soak his legs and recover his wind.

  Both she and Toran heard El-morah before they saw him. He was singing a sort of mournful, plaintive prayer-chant, standing alone on a pile of stones, looking back toward the northeast. Gaelen did not understand the tongue he used—in fact, she did not believe she had ever heard it before—but the pain within was clear.

  Toran called to El-morah, knowing a friend, and Gaelen rode slowly and carefully through the waters to the shore, vaulting off and leading Toran to the pile of stones. El-morah had stopped singing, for he had seen her, and now he climbed down to sit upon one of the larger boulders. “Come, Gaelen, if you would join me.”

  She sat beside him, looking upon his genuine, friendly face and warm, brown eyes. “It is not your habit to be this far from the gates alone, is it?” she asked. “What purpose has brought you here?”

  “I have come to be alone, even as you have,” said El-morah. “I have called out to my home, and my family, but they do not answer. They cannot hear me, wherever they have gone.”