Ravenshade Page 3

  “I cannot say, Rogond. It’s my belief that there are many shores on the edge of Eternity, and I sense that she has gone to one quite different from the one we walked together. The mirror is evil now, for it has been made so, and it has drawn them to their battleground. This thing that has happened is most unnatural.”

  Galador agreed with Nelwyn. “I expect that any speculation we make will be just that. Fima works now with the scholars to discover what he can, but Gaelen has strayed into unknown lands. I know that you long to aid her, but it may be that any diversion of her mind from the battle will finish her. We dare not risk it.”

  Hallagond tried to comfort Rogond with a brotherly hand on his shoulder, as Estle scowled. Her tone belied her concern for Gaelen, of whom she had become very fond. “Trust Elves to take such a course, wait and see, sit back and do nothing,” she said. “Can you not see that Rogond suffers? Can you not suggest something he might do? Doing nothing is the most painful course of all.”

  “Hush, Estle,” said Hallagond. “This time they’re right—there’s too much at stake here to act without surety. Rogond may receive insight as to a course of action, or Gaelen may call to him and ask for aid. But until that happens, we dare not interfere.”

  “She will need aid,” said Rogond. Of that I am certain.”

  “You are right, North-man,” said a strange voice from the doorway. Rogond had heard that voice before, but he never expected to hear it now. He turned and beheld Aryiah, the Seer, slowly entering the chamber, guided by Maji, the Minister of Omens. Rogond bowed in respect as the others stared in confusion at this strange, dark woman with eyes like clouded moons in her scarred face.

  “Hail, Aryiah, Seer of Renown,” said Rogond. “I pray that your gifts will enlighten us, and I praise the powers of heaven that you have come.” His voice betrayed his desperate hope.

  “North-man, treasure-stone, steadfast friend and defender of the Elven-fire, the stars have spoken of your plight,” said Aryiah. “Know that I have not ventured forth from my chambers in many, many years, but a terrible battle rages upon a dark and unknown field, and the Darkness strives against the Light. Your beloved cannot prevail against this evil—in its heart lies the power of the Shadowmancer. Her light is strong and bright, but it will wane…it has waned already.”

  “Can you save her, Spirit-mother?” asked Nelwyn, whose love for Gaelen was as deep as Rogond’s.

  “I will call to her,” said Aryiah. “Gaelen would have aid, but does not know how to summon it, for she is accustomed to facing such battles alone. There is aid from the Light, but she does not know or understand this. Her light will not be enough.”

  Aryiah had been guided to sit beside Rogond, whereupon she held her hands out before her and began to chant, swaying in rhythm, her eyes closed. The chanting was strange to the ears of all in hearing, and even the Elves found themselves drawn away into a peaceful place, largely unaware of their surroundings. Estle and Hallagond appeared almost to fall asleep, but Rogond resisted, remaining alert in case Aryiah needed him.

  Your eyes betray you, said the tall Elf with a sneering smile. You have exhausted yourself, and now you fear me. Rightly so, little Vixen. Quite rightly so.

  Gaelen tried to muster her strength before the advancing enemy. “You are no Elf—you’re a misbegotten, pathetic, foul creation that should never have been spawned. You cannot deceive me, and I am not afraid of you.”

  “Well, then, if I am so pathetic, you will take me easily. Come, then, for our dance is unfinished. The Black Void awaits you, my lady. He mocked her then, smiling and bowing, never taking his pale eyes from her. She was his prey, and he would toy with her. As he engaged her, he called upon the mirror, knowing that it was not within her power to resist. Come to me, Dark Spirit—the One who gave me power…and life.

  The battle resumed, though neither warrior was at full strength, and it looked for a time that they were evenly matched. Their energies swirled together, the Light and the Dark, but neither prevailed over the other. Yet Gorgon slowly gained advantage, and Gaelen’s light began dimming as he pressed her harder. He was still in Elven form, and his power was growing. Gaelen was on the verge of being overcome, as grief and hopelessness overwhelmed her and she cried out in despair. She looked into the depths of Gorgon’s evil grey eyes to behold a sight that froze her blood and stole her courage, for she realized that her enemy did not fight alone.

  A horrific, dark visage glared back at her, eyes glowing with malice, formless and terrifying, surrounded by eerie black flames. She quailed then, knowing that this was a power far beyond her. A surge of dark energy flowed through Gorgon and he laughed in triumph. He had turned back into his own form, for the Shadowmancer would never look through the eyes of an Elf, evil or not. Gorgon began to slowly wrestle Gaelen toward the endless darkness at his back, and she knew that he meant to cast her there, and that she would be unable to stop him.

  She had to prevail now, or face the worst possible fate. Why had Lord Wrothgar come to Gorgon’s aid? Was it because he had corrupted the mirror, or was there truly a part of him that had gone into Gorgon’s creation? Gaelen did not know.

  Gorgon knew that his enemy was outmatched, and he threw his ugly head back and laughed. This was the best outcome he could have hoped for, because now he would torment her before casting her into the Dark. He would not send her to those who loved her, not even in death, for death would never truly come unto her. He would think of her torment whenever he looked at the stars, and it would cheer him. It was no less than she deserved.

  These were moments to be savored, for Gorgon knew that Gaelen was aware of what lay before her. Her light had dimmed when she looked into his eyes—she must have seen her own fate. He did not realize that she had seen the Shadowmancer, but it would have made no difference.

  Where are your friends, Wood-elf? Where is that pathetic Tuathan? Where is your mighty Elven-king? A pity they will not be here to comfort you as you sail forever into nothingness. It would seem that love has deserted you.

  Gaelen tried to muster an answer, but the face of Wrath that glared back at her from Gorgon’s eyes had taken her resolve. She understood the last thoughts of a mouse that is taken and toyed with by a cat. Gritting her teeth, she spoke directly to the Shadowmancer. You killed my beloved…you took him from me. Now we’ll see how easy it is to defeat my resolve! Your servant is more vulnerable than you know.

  She turned her attention back to Gorgon. Do you have any message that I should give your mother? Anything I should tell Gelmyr when I see him? For you will not cast me into the Void…my strength is growing, and soon I shall vanquish you. If not, I will at least take you with me into the Dark. Then we shall have Eternity for debate.

  Gaelen had thought to distract Gorgon, and she had succeeded. His aura flared menacingly around him, particularly when he thought of Gelmyr. Yet Gorgon sensed that when Gaelen was truly gone, Gelmyr would be gone with her. I am done playing with you, Elf, and now our dance will end. Think on your own questions as you turn endlessly in torment. I will spend no more time in debate with you. He dragged her closer to the blackness as the struggle resumed.

  Gaelen heard the strange, rhythmic chanting before Gorgon did, and she wondered as to the nature of it. It was a lifeline—a voice inside her soul that spoke gentle words of guidance.

  Gaelen…Gaelen Taldin. Hear my words and be free. You can prevail, but you must summon the souls of the vanquished to aid you. There are those among them who can help in defeating your foe. Call upon them now!

  Gaelen gathered her strength for a great effort. She had expected to fight this battle alone; it had not occurred to her that any help would come. She was still uncertain, but she would try. Spirits of those vanquished by the Elfhunter, tormented and unjustly taken, come to my aid! I call upon you…help me!

  Gorgon looked puzzled. Was it possible that Gaelen could do such things? If so, why had she not earlier? You are desperate, Elf-whelp. None will come to aid you, and you know it.
I hear your hesitation. I suppose it was worth trying, yet I see no spirits of the vanquished. Save your energy for the Void.

  The strange, gentle voice came again. You cannot have any doubt. Muster your faith, and summon them. They will come if you truly will it.

  This time, when Gaelen called out to the spirits of the dead, there was no doubt in her mind. She closed her eyes, took three deep breaths, and flared brilliant golden-orange as she called to them.

  At first there was nothing. Then both she and Gorgon heard the voices, uncounted numbers of them gathering and approaching the Edge of Darkness. Gorgon had lived a long, long time, and he had killed many Elves. Now they swarmed around the struggling souls as they fought, their beautiful but forlorn faces swirling like mist, for they had little power here. They did succeed in distracting Gorgon for the moment, and he actually let go of Gaelen, for he was dismayed until he realized that they would not touch him. Then he laughed.

  Thank you for reminding me of the vast harm I have done to my enemies. Do you now see my power? These multitudes were taken by the Elfhunter alone, and none knew of it save the fallen. When I have finished with you, I shall return to my old life, killing as I will.

  I think not, said a voice that rose above the others. Gelmyr, the real Gelmyr, appeared in the forefront, glowing and beautiful as he had been in life. Your crimes are known to us now, Gorgon. You will fall before the hands of those you have sworn to destroy. You can never return to Elven lands, for you are known!

  The sight of Gelmyr, not dead and rotting, but beautiful and whole, took Gorgon’s nerve for a moment. And the words he spoke were true—the warning had spread, such that his intended prey would be more watchful for a time. Yet surely they would relax eventually, and had Gorgon not killed several already as he passed near to the Verdant Mountains on his way southward?

  Do your worst, though I expect it is little enough, said Gorgon. I need not fear. You can do no harm to me in this realm, and precious little anywhere else. I am not afraid of any of you.

  Then a new voice came—wise and deep. Ah, Gorgon. You are still as proud as ever, and I must say that your ability to speak the Elven tongues has not declined. Yet I sorrow for you, my friend, for so I still hold you. Do you not remember me?

  One of the Shades stepped forward as the others drew back. This one appeared to be of great age. It appeared bent, scarred, and wizened. It was most certainly the soul of an Elf, but this spirit had been forever diminished by torment and cruelty in the depths of Lord Wrothgar’s fortress. Not even death could restore him, or so it seemed. Yet he still held his pride and his dignity as he approached the one who had taken his life so long ago.

  Old One? Gorgon whispered in disbelief, staring at the gently glowing spirit.

  Yes, it is I. I am pleased that you remember me after such a long age...and you have not forgotten your lessons. Yet your deeds have indeed been dark over your long life, and you have never had the comfort or the love that could have turned you back from them. Not since you took my life have you known a friend.

  Why look you now so sorrowful, Old One? Can you not see how my power has grown? Look now on all these vanquished ones and know that it was I who slew them. Are you not proud of your apprentice?

  The old Elf shook his head. We should all be sorrowful in the presence of a wasted life. You were given great strength and a ready mind, yet you have ever been turned to the service of evil. It is not your fault. You never had the chance to be anything other than what you are.

  I serve none but myself, said Gorgon. No one commands me, and my purposes are my own. I hunt and slay the Elàni because I wish it! You speak of good and evil, but all things must be weighed by each soul’s measure. To me, a thousand dead Elves is not an evil thing…it is a very good thing.

  You did not slay me at your own behest, my poor, misguided pupil. You and I were friends…deny it if you will! It was no less difficult for you than for me. Yet you took my life at the Black Flame’s command. You were his servant then, and his servant you remain—you’re just too deluded to know it.

  Gaelen had renewed herself in those few moments, for she knew that she did not stand alone. She looked with curiosity upon the old Elf, who so obviously viewed Gorgon differently than did anyone else. Who are you, Old One? she said in a soft voice.

  The Old One turned to her with a sad smile. I was once called Halladin, though I had forgotten my own name for years uncounted until the time of my death. I was known only as the Old One, for I had been captive in the Dark Fortress for a long age. My body declined, even as you see me now, and my spirit was all but broken. Yet the Shadowmancer charged me with a task, and so long as I performed it, he would suspend my torment. It was I who taught his Dark Child the speech of the Elàni, and I also taught him some of Elven ways. But my student began to be my friend, and that must not be allowed to happen, for to know love is to turn from hate. Lord Wrothgar ordered Gorgon to slay me with his own hands, and he did so, as much out of fear as anything. He turned to Gorgon. He will deny it, but it was so.

  Gaelen was incredulous. Are you saying that you…that you loved Gorgon? That you called him friend?

  I am, said Halladin.

  I don’t understand. How can you love a thing that has killed so many of our people, and wishes now only to do further harm?

  Ah. But we are his people, too. Perhaps if we had not shunned him so utterly he would have realized it. His spirit is quite strong, as I am sure you are aware.

  ENOUGH OF THIS! roared Gorgon, who had been staring at Halladin in disbelief. Stop speaking of me as if I’m not here! I never called you friend, I have never cared for anyone, and I will never care to be loved. You may have loved me, but it made you weak, and I took your life. And do you know what I did after? Absolutely nothing of consequence. Your death did not even disrupt my daily activities, Old One. It was of no consequence.

  Are you trying to convince me, or yourself? asked Halladin gently.

  Suddenly, Gorgon’s face twisted helplessly into that of Gelmyr. The long-dead apparition looked over at the real Gelmyr, smiled, and gave him a friendly wave. Then he laughed. You are in such denial, Elfhunter! I know the truth of it…you ran into a dark corner and hid from the Shadowmancer, and when you were certain he would neither see nor hear you, you wept! I remember it well…I believe it was the last time in your entire, miserable life that you shed a tear of grief. He looked over at Gaelen and winked.

  Gorgon’s dark face reappeared almost at once, and his fury was graven upon it. I will hear no more of this! he bellowed, as Halladin looked sadly back at Gaelen.

  He is truly evil, little one, but he is vulnerable. Yet I am afraid his fury has made him irrational, and he is now very, very dangerous. Guard yourself well! With these words, Halladin bowed and retreated into the mass of souls until he could no longer be seen.

  Gaelen squared her shoulders. Had there ever been a moment when Gorgon had not been dangerous? Yet now, as he rushed at her, she knew that there would be no respite. She made a silent vow that if Gorgon would cast her into the Void, she would at least take him with her.

  They grappled for the last time, their energies swirling wildly around them. They cried out with pain and effort as they strove at the very edge of the black void that seemed to suffocate all light. Gorgon’s strength was actually waning now; the encounter with Halladin had unnerved him, and he wavered. Gaelen knew it and pressed her advantage, backing him to within inches of the edge of the Light. But Gorgon reached down within his black soul and summoned the Shadowmancer.

  Gaelen heard the hated voice inside her head. Thou art vanquished, even as thy beloved was long ago. He could not triumph over Me, and so cannot thou. The face of Lord Wrothgar could not truly be seen, but she felt him smile and it sickened her. All was lost! She could not prevail over the very essence of Evil, and she would receive little aid from the Shades of the dead, save one...if he would hear her.

  Rain…Rain! Come to me now, or I will never see you again. If I
am heard, let my cry be answered!

  Both Gorgon and the Shadowmancer laughed at this, for they knew how afraid she was. Her fears were Gorgon’s greatest weapon, and he would use them. He wrested her back toward the abyss; they could both be lost at any moment.

  Fool of an Elf! said Gorgon in a voice that came from the heart of Evil itself. Do you not understand that your Lost King cannot save you? It was he who fled before the Dark Powers, taking a part of you away with him long ago, and hence your spirit has never been whole. You are vanquished because of him. Call upon him and you will surely fail.

  But Gaelen knew that this was not so. Her beloved had taken a part of her spirit when he had been ripped so cruelly from the world, yet he would strengthen her beyond measure if he stood beside her. Rain…come now to me, and aid me in my task, she whispered.

  She felt him first, powerful and loving, surrounding her with warm, soft light. When the light faded they were as one, and Gaelen knew her soul was whole again—she had joined with her beloved. She heard his voice from within her, but she did not see him, for he looked out at her enemy through her eyes.

  Do not be afraid, my love, for I am with thee, he said. Then he looked through Gaelen’s eyes into the face of the Enemy, his grey eyes meeting those of the Black Flame. You cannot withstand the power of the High King! he said in a deep, thundering voice, causing Gorgon to reel back from him. There is but a vestige of the Dark One within you, but you face the full wrath and strength of the most ancient Lightbearers! You cannot stand against me, Dark Horror.

  Gorgon knew in his heart that it was so, as the image of Lord Wrothgar flickered and faded. Ri-Elathan’s voice was heard once more from the depths of Gaelen’s bright eyes. Your Master has abandoned you, Gorgon One-hand. Taste now fully of the Darkness, or face the Light!

  And so, said Gaelen, you have your ally, Gorgon, and I have mine. It would seem that yours has deserted you. Her fire redoubled, and she concentrated not upon the heat of it, but upon the light. She flared so brilliant in that moment that Gorgon turned his head away, roaring with pain, trying to escape her grasp as he had done before, but he could not. He took another step back, faltering upon the edge as Gaelen used the last of her strength to force him over. Every other Shade recoiled from the dark void; none would draw near.