Fallen Embers (The Alterra Histories) (7 page)

Shandor found this amusing, somehow, and the vision was broken.

Rain lay in Magra’s arms, his teeth clenched, his vision clearing. When he looked up at his friend, his eyes filled with tears. This revelation was not as bad as he had expected—it was far worse, and he had not yet seen the end of it. “
Why
did you interrupt me?” he asked his astonished friend. “I had not yet learned all!”

“I…I thought you were dying,” said Magra.

“I may have been, but you should not have stopped it,” said Rain, getting to his feet with Magra’s help. He staggered forward, for his strength had left him. His heart pounded, sweat had soaked his clothing and his hair, and his entire body trembled. “Leave me!”

“But…my lord…”

“Leave me,
now
!”

Magra turned and left the chamber, his heart filled with sorrow and dread, as Rain called upon the last of his strength to stand once again before the Stone.

“This is…this is what will be?” he asked, as the tears threatened to come again.

And I have not said all. There is more that you must learn
.

“Is there no other way?”

I warned you, but you would not listen. Now you must face the consequences. You sought to learn, and learn you will. Hold no hope in your heart, Farahin, nephew of Liathwyn. Your fate is sealed, unless you would abandon it
.

“If I abandon it? Do I have that choice?”

We always have choices. But if you turn from this end, the Battle is lost. It is your death that will inspire them. Without it, they will falter, and Wrothgar will prevail. The choice is yours
.

Rain ground his teeth. “
Show
me,” he said. “Show me what will happen if I choose otherwise.

Shandor did not answer. Rain gripped the Stone with both hands. “Why are you silent? I asked you to show me what will happen if I choose otherwise. Are you incapable, or have you nothing to say?”

And what other choice would you make, Farahin? Would you refuse to go to war? Would you run from Wrothgar when he confronts you at last? Let’s be clear on precisely which choice you are referring to. Would you abandon your position as High King to run into the Greatwood
?

Rain started back just a little. “How do you know about that?”

You are gripping the Stone. I see it in your heart. Could you really live with such a choice
?

“Show me.”

And if I choose otherwise
?

“If someone had shown
you
what happened to Liathwyn, that you would be separated from her beyond the hope of ever seeing her again, that you would live your life in eternal loneliness and longing…would you have chosen otherwise?”

Shandor did not reply, but the light of the Stone diminished.

“Now, show me,” said Rain. “Show me…please.”

Shandor did.

Ri-elathan, who knew now that he would be the last of his line, turned from the Stone and left the chamber. He had just enough strength to make his way to the place where Shandor’s cold, dead form lay in its crystal coffin, ice-blue eyes staring lifelessly up into the empty air. Rain slumped onto the floor beside the pedestal, his head lolling back on one shoulder, looking into the face of his tormentor. Though he knew he had no right to ask the question, he asked it anyway.

“Shandor…you were once my friend. We were
friends
. How could you have taken the last of my hope?”

He slumped forward, completely exhausted, too weary even to weep. But then he thought of Gaelen, and the tears came just the same.

III

After she had returned home, Gaelen went about her business in the Greatwood, telling no one of her betrothal, trying to sort out her own feelings and to appear as though nothing had changed. This was a challenge, as the events that had transpired in the lands to the south of Mountain-home had forever altered the course of her life. Nothing that had occurred in her relatively short span of years could compare with it, and little that her future held would rival it.

Her father, Tarfion, suspected that an event of some significance had occurred, but she would not speak of it. He knew that Gloranel had also sensed the change in their only daughter.

“She has not been the same since returning from Mountain-home. You were there—did you not watch over her? Do you not know what happened? It is as though she is keeping back a great secret. She has aged…actually, she has
matured
. Can you not enlighten me?”

“If I knew anything, I would tell you,” said Tarfion. “She managed to avoid me almost the entire time we were in Mountain-home, which certainly made me wonder. But you’re right—she has matured. Our Gaelen would never been inclined to keep any ‘great secret,’ especially from you.”

“Did you not watch over her? How is it that you left her alone and let her avoid you? A lot goes on in Mountain-home…who knows what sort of influences she was exposed to?”

“I was watching over King Osgar, remember?” said Tarfion. “I had a job to do.”

Gloranel’s smooth brow furrowed beneath the soft wisps of auburn hair that strayed before it. “She sings for no reason. Her mind is a thousand miles away. She pretends nothing is going on, but I believe
everything
is going on.”

“Well, have you asked her yourself?”

“You know I have. Naturally, she denies everything.”

“You know her well enough that we’ll get nothing out of her, then.”

“I heard you and Tarmagil discussing Gaelen and the High King. You told of the banner, and that she went off riding with him…alone.”

“Yes, and I heard the rumors flying all over Mountain-home. But surely the King would not have let her go…”

Gloranel’s eyes narrowed. “
What
rumors?”

Tarfion’s face paled a little. There was nothing to do but tell her. “There were rumors of…of a Perception.”

“A
Perception
? You cannot mean between Gaelen and the High King, surely!” Gloranel shook her head. “Although that would certainly explain the change in her.” She shook her head again. “Surely not…most unlikely. He is thousands of years old, and she has barely flowered. Gaelen and Ri-Elathan? Surely
not
. I don’t want to think of this anymore today.”

But, of course, Gloranel did think of it—in fact, she thought of little else. A union between a common Wood-elf and the High-elven King? A common Wood-elf barely into her maidenhood…whose entire life lay before her? Gloranel loved her daughter, and she had dreamed of the day that Gaelen would perceive a life-mate and gift her with grandchildren, but to have her entangled with such a warrior-king as Ri-Elathan? Though neither she nor Tarfion believed in even the remotest possibility of Perception between Gaelen and the King, Gloranel was apprehensive and filled with doubt as she considered the potential loss of her only daughter to one destined for such hardship and peril.

Everyone in the Greatwood knew why the King had gone to Mountain-home, and Gloranel had resigned herself to the fact that Tarfion and his brothers would soon be going to war, but now she had another reason to worry. The line of the High Kings had not fared well in conflicts against Lord Wrothgar—not well at all. If the rumors of Gaelen and Ri-Elathan were true, it was not the only line that would end.

Gaelen had learned many things in Monadh-talam that disquieted her. Alduinar of Tuathas was preparing for the onslaught of Kotos’ northern army. Ri-Elathan and his Elven host were to gather together near the Northern Mountains and then march to the ruined lands of Tal-elathas, for that was then the location of Wrothgar’s Dark Tower.

As the time of war drew near, Nelwyn approached her cousin as she sat near the riverbank, her thoughts far away. Gaelen sensed her presence, though she did not immediately acknowledge it. “He is leaving Mountain-home—he moves east, toward the Greatwood, and then north to the Dark Fortress,” she said in a distant, misty voice.

“Who is leaving Mountain-home? What are you speaking of?” Nelwyn was unaccustomed to such vague communication from her usually straightforward cousin.

Gaelen turned to face Nelwyn, grasping one of her hands so tightly that the younger Elf drew back in apprehension. “What I am about to tell you must not be revealed to anyone. Do you understand?”

Nelwyn nodded, and Gaelen relaxed her grip, but did not let go of Nelwyn’s hand. Gaelen trusted her cousin, and as the tale unfolded she knew how unbelievable it sounded, yet Nelwyn did not waver or appear to doubt her. For this, and for her silence, Gaelen would be forever grateful, especially given the importance of what she now revealed. “The host of the Greatwood prepares to march to war. I intend to follow them,” she said at last, her face deadly serious.

Nelwyn gasped. “You cannot
mean
it! I have heard my father speak of this conflict to come—they go to challenge the host of the Dark Power, with foes unimaginable. I have heard him speak of dragons, and Bödvari, and Ulcas without number!” Nelwyn looked at her cousin, dismayed but not surprised to see that this swayed her not at all. Even when she was thinking clearly, it was not unlike Gaelen to focus with grim tenacity on an objective despite nearly impossible odds, and it would be many years before she learned to respond with greater prudence. Nelwyn gripped Gaelen’s other hand. “You are not trained or skilled in the art of open warfare—you would not survive!”

Gaelen shook her head, a note of impatience in her voice. “Few of our people are so trained and skilled, yet they are going to war; they make the preparations even now. The one to whom I am bound rides forth to lead them to whatever destiny awaits. I will be at his side…or fall in the attempt. I mean to wait until our host has departed and then follow them. Everyone will assume I have gone out into the forest, as is my habit. You must remain here and reassure them if they should become suspicious. Will you aid me?”

Nelwyn stared at her in disbelief. “Are you telling me that you want me to be complicit in sending you to your death? You want me to remain behind while you follow this incredibly foolhardy course and hide the truth from those who care for you? Do not expect such from me, Gaelen, for I cannot comply. I swore not to reveal your secret with respect to your betrothal, but I cannot aid you in this. Please, if you care anything for Ri-Elathan, or for me, do not pursue this course. Stay here where you will be safe.”

Gaelen’s eyes flashed. “There are no safe places anymore! This war is upon us all, wherever we may dwell. And I will not see my love standing in such a place of horror and death without me at his side. This time of separation from him has been painful enough. The conflict may go on for years. I could not
bear
it…you cannot understand.” Tears of desperation started in her eyes, and she turned from Nelwyn, enfolding her arms upon her knees and burying her face in them, weeping.

Nelwyn, who had rarely known Gaelen to weep, waited for a moment, unsure of what to do. This talk was sheer folly—it was madness—but Gaelen was in such obvious pain that Nelwyn had to relent. She placed a gentle hand on Gaelen’s shoulder. “Hush. It’s all right. I…I will do as you ask, though my heart would counsel otherwise.”

Gaelen turned her tear-streaked face toward Nelwyn, then reached out with both arms and hugged her fiercely. “I cannot tell how difficult it has been to bear this alone. I was dreading telling you, but now I see that I need not have feared. You are a true friend.”

At this, Nelwyn also began to cry, for she knew the impact of her decision. “I only agreed because I have faith that Ri-Elathan will not tolerate your presence on the battlefield. He will send you right back to us if he cares for you. I understand your motivation, but surely you know in your heart that he will never sanction this.

At this, Gaelen drew back and looked Nelwyn in the eye. “I know, and you’re right, but I have to try. If I accomplish nothing else, I must return this. He has never gone into battle without it, and I do not wish for him to be without it now, in this most terrible of battles.” She drew forth the banner of Ri-Elathan from beneath her tunic and handed it to Nelwyn, who marveled at the beauty and intricacy of the fine silk with its pattern of bright silver stars and golden sun. She gave it back to Gaelen, who folded it and replaced it with reverence.

Gaelen looked off into the distance, toward Mountain-home. “Sometimes, when all is peaceful and quiet, I can sense him…it is almost as though I can hear his voice. I try to call to him as well, but I do not know whether he can hear me. He has so little peace in his life now. I would give nearly anything to see him again, to be with him, and to know that he was safe. Do you understand that feeling?”

She was so wistful that it tugged at Nelwyn’s heart. Though still very young, Nelwyn shared a natural empathy with Gaelen that allowed her to appreciate what her older cousin was going through. “Do what you must, but keep safe. I will keep your secret, no matter what happens. And my thoughts and hopes will be with you until you return.” She rose and took her leave, as Gaelen returned to staring at the river.

At last the host departed from the Greatwood, and a large host it was. Thousands of hardy Sylvan folk, some from as far away as the Monadh-ailan, gathered together before moving eastward toward their rendezvous with Ri-Elathan’s army. As planned, Gaelen followed behind. She had little to fear following such a great host; nothing would challenge them as they made their way toward the rendezvous point, and she was quite safe.

She felt the presence of Ri-Elathan’s army long before she saw it, for Gaelen was very intuitive and the collective thoughts of so many great and noble warriors could not go unnoticed. She sensed her beloved Farahin, but did not call to him, for she knew in her heart that Nelwyn was right. She would just have to convince him when she arrived. Surely Rain would not turn her away as she stood before him, ready to fight and die at his side.

If Gaelen had been thinking clearly, she would have known better, but clear thought is a luxury seldom afforded to so young a heart when it has been irretrievably given. She continued trailing the folk of the Greatwood, hoping that her thoughts would not betray her before she could make her case to her beloved.