Fallen Embers (The Alterra Histories) (8 page)

Farahin Ri-Elathan stood atop the hill overlooking the great host of Elves that was now gathering. Beside him, Magra stood as second-in-command. The host would remain in this place for a while, as the Greatwood had promised a large contingent. They would be added to those of Monadh-talam and Tal-sithian, making for a formidable army.

Ri-Elathan surveyed the scene with satisfaction. The rows of tents displaying their colorful silken battle-flags, the sun glinting off countless helms and polished weapons, the horses, and the armor formed an impressive sight that stretched as far as could be easily seen.

Osgar’s host would approach from the southwest, but Ri-Elathan would probably not know of it until they had reached the outskirts of the huge encampment. Then he would welcome the folk of the Woodland, for they were fierce fighters and they were many. Still, Ri-Elathan was concerned for them, as they wore no armor and were armed with light bows. His own archers used longbows that had a tremendous range; against the Dark army power was more important than accuracy, as they would be shooting into a huge mass of Ulcas. Bows, even powerful ones, were of little use against dragons or Bödvari.

Rain had thought to convince Osgar to accept gifts of armor and weapons, but knew it was unlikely that he would accept, for he was proud. Ri-Elathan only hoped the King of the Greatwood would submit to his directives once battle was joined.

Magra had climbed the hill and now stood beside him. “The Woodland Elves have arrived, my lord. They are making their way here as we speak. Do you wish to ride out and meet them?”

Ri-Elathan nodded and turned to his captains. “I will return soon. In the meantime, we should make preparations to move on. The host from the Greatwood will no doubt want to rest for a day or two, but then we should begin to make our way northward again.” The captains saw the wisdom of this, as it took time and effort to get an army of this size collected and moving.

Ri-Elathan and Magra descended into the encampment where their mounts were ready and waiting. Then they rode out that they might receive the King of the Greatwood and his folk graciously into their company.

Ri-Elathan rode up before the King of the Greatwood, bowing respectfully, and bade him welcome. They exchanged the usual pleasantries and pledges of fidelity, but Ri-Elathan’s attention was drawn to the Elf who stood beside Osgar—an Elf with familiar olive-green eyes.

Tarfion bowed his head before Ri-Elathan, and as their eyes met they shared a brief unspoken communion.

Welcome, Tarfion. May you keep safe through the upcoming conflict so that we may honor you upon its end, as I will be asking for the hand of your daughter, who holds my heart
.

Tarfion, astonished, kept his composure.
Well met, O Elven-king, who holds the heart of my only daughter. I pray you will also keep safe so that I may sanction this union, as it does honor to my family, and I rejoice for her
. He bowed, whereupon a brief, faint smile came over the stern face of Ri-Elathan. The King then turned his attention back to Osgar, inviting him to return to the headquarters upon the hilltop to discuss immediate plans, leaving Tarfion to contemplate what had just occurred.

So, Gaelen’s heart was given—there is certainly no denying it now. Is it possible that she has followed behind?
It was typical of her recent behavior, but Tarfion prayed it was not so, as she would find no welcome in the encampment. How he would get her to return home was beyond his reckoning; that task would now fall to Ri-Elathan.
Oh, Gaelen, please reveal yourself before we get too far into the lands of the Enemy, for you will surely be lost. Your kin are not the only ones who would grieve for you now.
Tarfion turned and made his way back toward the rear of the column, just in case.

Gaelen patted Angael while gently removing a tangle from the mare’s long, silvery-golden mane. She had succeeded in following Osgar’s army to the rendezvous point, though there was a brief moment when she feared her father had sensed her presence. He had tried to contact her in thought, but she had closed her mind in spite of her love for him. Nothing must interfere with her plan to join Ri-Elathan, and now she would have to figure out a way to get to him without being detected by any of her kin—or worse, by Osgar, who would have no tolerance of her disobedience.

She swung lightly up onto her mare’s broad back and cantered north to a point where the river might be crossed. Ri-Elathan’s army occupied land on both sides of the Ambros, but the Wood-elves were camped on the eastern side. She could approach from the west if she could figure out a way to conceal her identity. That would not be difficult for one so skilled; if she had once spied on secret war-councils, she could surely make off with someone’s unguarded armor.

So it was that Gaelen Taldin, she who walks unnoticed, found herself wearing a helm, cloak, and breastplate that neither fit her nor belonged to her. She rode toward the hilltop, drawing little attention to herself, for among so many no one even turned their eyes in her direction. Only once did anyone address her, and that occurred as she rode by night through the camp of Magra of the Èolar. One of the sentinels called out to her:

“What business, rider of Tal-sithian? Why have you come to our encampment? Do you bear a message?”

Gaelen tried to disguise her voice, answering him in rather stilted High-elven: “Nay! I am misguided, for I mean to find my Lord Airan. Ummm…dost thou know where he may be found?” Gaelen suspected that if she found Airan, she would also find Ri-Elathan. The Elf of Magra’s camp directed her, but he looked puzzled, as Angael was not exactly a war horse, and Gaelen did not remotely fill the armor she had appropriated. Nor was it customary for the High-elves to carry a bow of the Sylvan realm. When Gaelen had gone, he went to find Magra to report his concern.

The host would be moving on within two days’ time. Gaelen approached the headquarters atop the hill, where the High King’s banner adorned his white silken tent. Nearby was a tent bearing the banner of Tal-sithian. Both were well guarded. Gaelen placed her hand near her heart, over the small banner bearing the same stars-and-sun design as its larger cousin, and dismounted from Angael. Her thoughts were focused on Ri-Elathan and his response to her presence in the encampment, and how she would convince him that she should remain beside him. This preoccupation made her unwary, such that she did not hear the approach of Magra until he and his folk had laid hands on her, thrown her to the ground, and forcibly removed the helmet she wore.

Magra started back in astonishment when Gaelen’s identity was revealed. One of his guards had drawn a blade to her throat, and she did not move or speak.

“Put the blade away, but keep her here until I can speak with Ri-Elathan,” said Magra. He reached down and helped Gaelen to her feet. “I don’t think it will be necessary to restrain her.” He disappeared into the King’s tent, returning after a few moments. “Come with me,” he said. “I will escort you.”

Ri-Elathan sat brooding in the large main chamber of his tent, awaiting his beloved, who was now being brought before him. He bade his guards take their leave, as he now stood regal and imposing in robes of blue and sable traced with silver and gold, his simple golden crown glinting upon his brow. In truth, he had been anticipating Gaelen’s arrival, as he had sensed her presence several times in the past few days. Though in his heart he rejoiced to see her again, he dreaded their meeting. He would have to trample her feelings to get her to leave him.

There was absolutely no chance that any entreaty she might make to remain with him would succeed. Surely, she must know it! But then, he looked into his own heart. Would he know it, in her place? Almost certainly not. Gaelen had no sense of her own limits, and she could not conceive of the conflict to come. He would simply have to convince her. As Magra and his guards escorted her into the chamber, the King drew himself up and turned toward them, and as his eyes met Gaelen’s the challenge of what he now had to do was daunting indeed.

She stood before him, making herself as tall and impressive as possible with her chin lifted and her eyes fixed on him. Clearly, she meant to make a case for herself as a warrior, and it wrenched his heart. He read uncertainty and apprehension in her bright eyes as well. She was too intelligent not to know the futility of this effort.

Magra came forward with the stolen armor, explaining to Ri-Elathan how Gaelen had managed to infiltrate the encampment to stand now before him. Ri-Elathan stared hard at her, and she dropped her eyes for a moment. He was probably the only soul in all of Alterra who could elicit this simple gesture of submission from her. He smiled, taking the armor from Magra and noting how ill-fitting it would have been.

“See how little it takes to confuse our army? A She-elf, swimming in someone else’s armor and mounted on a large pony, manages to find her way to the headquarters of the King.”

“She’s
not
a pony,” said Gaelen, looking down at her feet.

“Gaelen, you have small faith in our vigilance, and right now I would say you are not wrong,” said Ri-Elathan, chuckling softly and handing the armor back to Magra, who took the humor beneath the gentle reprimand. “Leave us, my friend. She is not dangerous. In fact, she will be returning to her home tomorrow.” He looked hard at Gaelen, whose despair was graven immediately upon her face.

Once they were alone, Rain did not demand an explanation, or chastise her, for he knew why she had come. He approached her, took her chin in his hand, and lifted it so that she met his gaze, an undercurrent of defiance in her eyes that was not quite concealed by her submissive posture. Tears filled them abruptly, and she broke away, turning from him. He gripped her shoulders and spun her around, though his touch was gentle.

“Do not try to conceal your feelings from me, for you cannot. They are my feelings as well. I am not angry with you, and I do not hold you at fault for coming here, for I know what is in your heart. You must also know what my response to your presence here must be. You cannot come with me—I have told you this before. Does not the size and extent of this army warn you of the magnitude of my task? Even were you the mightiest Elf-maiden ever to draw breath, I would not have you stay. The thought of losing you would be too great for me to bear! Do you not understand?”

Gaelen shook her head. “You would send me away to face the prospect of losing you without even being at your side…yet you cannot face the prospect of loss yourself. So I must wait in the Greatwood, dying a little each day knowing you face this peril, and wait for the news that you have fallen? Is this a fair account of your thinking?”

Ri-Elathan considered. He took her argument, but it didn’t change what had to be. “Yes, Gaelen, that is a fair account. You don’t face the task of winning this war—I cannot afford any distractions, or to be worried for your safety. No one regrets the pain this will cause you more than I do, as I would have you at my side if I could, but I cannot. You would not live beyond the first assault, of that I am certain. My grief upon losing you would be too great. I cannot afford it, and I will not risk it! You must obey my will in this, even if you never do so again.”

She knew he was right—she had known it all along. He meant to send her home, there to wait for the end of the conflict, either to rejoin him or mourn his passing. She also knew that if he failed, none of the free peoples would have peace ever again. The Greatwood would fall as surely as any other lands, and the peace and prosperity of the Elves would be forever lost. She had never seen Lord Wrothgar—few of her people had—but she knew how terrible an enemy he could be.

She nodded as the tears flowed freely from her large eyes. “I will obey you, my beloved Rain. But I will not leave you until you command me. And I will give you this, for your need of it is greater than mine—but you must promise to live, and return it to me.” She drew forth his banner, beautifully cared for, and handed it to him. He tucked it away, his own eyes over-bright with tears unshed. They embraced fiercely in the torchlight, as though trying to become of one body, as they were already of one heart.

Ri-Elathan spoke softly, yet with urgency. “I will not command you to go until the dawn breaks. Let us remain together until then, for I would love you with all my being. Even when we are parted, our spirits shall be intertwined, though you will be far from me in the Greatwood as I strive against the Black Flame. Gaelen…I shall do everything in my power to survive and come for you, but should I fail, I will await you in the Vault of Eternity.”

They remained locked together, now on their knees, arms enfolding one another with all the strength and tenderness they could summon. They held this embrace until the dawn came, their thoughts flowing together as two rivers of bright metal—different, yet in their union a stronger, brighter stream of single thought results. Thus their love grew deeper, and the pain of their parting the harder to bear.

In the morning Gaelen made her case one last time, though she knew what his response would be before it was given. “I entreat you for the last time…do not send me from you. Do not tear my heart from yours. Let me fall at your side if it is my fate, for I would go to the Eternal Realm with you.”

Rain was not hopeful of a reunion, though he had kept Shandor’s horrific revelation from her. If she
had
known of it, she probably would not have left him without his physically restraining her to prevent her following. He could just imagine the difficulties that strategy would present.

He looked desperately at her, hugging her to him again. “No, Taldin. You must not yet give up your life, for you have barely begun it. You must promise that you will not try to follow me in death. I will wait for you, and one day we will be together again. But in the meantime, you must live your life! And you must not live it alone in grief for me. Do you understand? This time with you has brought me great joy, and though the pain of our parting is grim and hard to bear, I will bear it. The joy of our union has made it worthwhile. Go now, my love, and may Aontar protect you.”