Worms' Ending: Book Eight (The Longsword Chronicles 8) (3 page)

“I remember, Longsword.”

“Look in your notebook, Allazar, there at the end, the word
I have written. The word is the name of the snake of a worm which demands my
attention, and calls me away from my love, my hearth, and my hall.”

With trembling fingers, the wizard opened the notebook and
read there the one word Gawain had written. Hallencloister.

“They will not grant us entry,” Allazar announced, a good
time later. A time filled with silent contemplation, both of them watching the
waters of the spring gurgling into a small pool served by some hidden drain,
the pool never overflowing, and never draining away, always holding the same
level.

“They’ll have no vakin choice.”

“When it was built so very long ago, the citadel was so
constructed to keep out the barbarians of commonkind.”

“Commonkind?”

“The ancient name given by wizardkind to all those not wizardkind.
The history I learned there spoke of warring tribes, and elves more elvish even
than now. The Hallencloister was built in the days before Morloch, and its
architects took into account the canny nature of men and how it might be employed
to gain entry into what was then more of a wizard’s enclave and sanctuary,
rather than the great place of learning and repository of knowledge we know it
as today.”

“Which
you
know it as today. I know it as a nest of
vipers.”

“The persecution of wizards was rife in those early days.
Hence the need for great fortress walls. It is only once inside that the true
spectacle of the place is revealed.”

“I shall reserve my judgement as to the nature of the
spectacle until I’ve seen it myself.”

“Calhaneth was built upon concentric circles, each smaller
and grander than the next until the great roundtower and Wheel of Thought was
achieved at its centre. The Hallencloister is built on a rectangular pattern,
each cloister giving way to another until the centre is reached. A great square
courtyard is found in the heart of the place, at the centre of which lies the
Fountain of Zaine…” Allazar sighed, drifting into his memories. “The fountain
is circular; apart perhaps from the columns of the cloisters it the only object
built within the walls to posses such architecture. A round pool of crystal
clear water from the middle of which rises a pillar of tiered circular dishes
forming a cascade, water spilling from one dish down into the next before
achieving the pool at the bottom. It symbolises, of course, the purity of
knowledge, and its spreading down through the ranks of the D’ith until the
greater circle of the pool at the base representing commonkind is finally filled
and the people enlightened.”

Gawain said nothing. The atmosphere in the vault was filled
with melancholy enough, and he had no heart for teasing or insults.

“Five dishes in the fountain, five great nested quadrangles.
The outer, dwellings, dining halls, dormitories and lesser classrooms for the
D’ith pat, and the inner, libraries and centres of higher learning and study,
students advancing from the outer towards the final cloister of Sek. Four
towers lie within the walls, one each at the cardinal points, great keeps of
stone from the tops of which each of the four Sardorians could observe the
mystic domains which were their nominal responsibility. Back when there
were
four Sardorians, and not the single Sardor of today. The towers were said to
contain the chambers of the Masters of Sek, who enjoyed luxury far exceeding
anything dreamed of in the humble dormitories or monastic cells I was
accustomed to. I never entered those towers. I had neither the rank nor the
reason so to do. Except once, when I was dragged as a boy before three imposing
wizards seated behind an imposing table…” Allazar’s voice faded as he drifted
into the memory.

“We’ll have time to discuss in detail the layout of the
place on our journey there, Allazar. You’ve already described the citadel to
me, as well as to the three kings at Ferdan when we journeyed there before
Far-gor.”

“I’m sorry. Yes, so I did. I wish Master Arramin were here.
He might be able to convince you that there is no hope of gaining entry should
the inhabitants refuse to open the gates. Nothing short of riding on the back
of Graken could get you in there, not with all its gates drawn up.”

“Yes,” Gawain agreed, “You’ve said that before, too.”

“I have?”

“Yes, at Raheen, after the destruction of Salaman Goth and
when Elayeen told us both all the news she had gleaned in Jarn, and she spoke
of the Hallencloister’s gates all being drawn up. You described the citadel then
as being as impregnable.”

Allazar nodded. “Before we stood together in the circles. I
must have been wiser than I thought, in those days.”

“Not wise enough, or none of us would have stepped into
them.”

“And yet,” the wizard sighed, “There now would be no world,
had we not. The Teeth breached, Morloch able to cross them, these lands in the
grip of his army of Meggen and the Empire in the west in the grip of Goth-lords
rising, he would have consumed us all.”

“And doubtless still intends to. So many things demanded our
attention when first we met, and since. We have done so much together, in these
few short years. It seems to me our attention was ever diverted away from the
Hallencloister.”

“And still you intend to leave Last Ridings, and leave our
lady here?”

“I have to, Allazar. This is not about an ancient book in an
ancient library, not for me. Ever since Elayeen told me of the compulsions she
felt which drove her from Tarn and into the wilds of the south, I have wondered
how it must have felt. How it must have been for her, answering a call only she
could hear and feel. Now I know. Every time I close my eyes for a moment’s
peace, I see visions of the Hallencloister you described. High walls, immense
gates, standing in pride and arrogance atop a rise and dominating the lands all
around it, as unassailable as Raheen itself once stood. I am being driven,
Allazar. I am compelled to go there.”

“And you will not take Elayeen with you?”

“No. Not for all the wealth in the lands would I take her
north of the Sudenstem, not now. Not now she bears our son. I would build a
Hallencloister citadel of my own around her, if I could.”

“And if she insists?”

Gawain shook his head. “She won’t. Just as she won’t do or
say anything to prevent my leaving. She, too, is compelled, only to silence and
inaction, where I am compelled to the Hallencloister. It is the one unanswered
question which dominates all others. And even you, it seems, are intended to go
there with me.”

“Yes. So it would seem. I must at least try to see the Book
of Thangar for myself.”

“And so, beardy White Stick of Raheen, to my original
question.”

“Which was?”

“How is Corax progressing with Imzenn’s old staff?”

“Well enough, under the circumstances. I believe his long
and patient hours sitting in holes and ditches studying rocks have strengthened
and disciplined his mind enough to cope with the lessons I and Master Arramin
have taught him. He would never pass the examinations of Sek, but when it comes
to the defence of our lady and your hall, he will pass any test, even at the
expense of his own life, should it ever be necessary.”

“And let us hope it isn’t.”

“Indeed.”

There was another silence then, the two of them sitting
alone together in the dull orange gloom.

Finally Gawain spoke, and softly. “Why does this feel like
an ending, Allazar?”

“I do not know, my friend. Perhaps it is? Perhaps the enigma
that is the D’ith Hallencloister is the last obstacle to our peace. The world
all about us is changing, and it, like us, holds its breath awaiting outcomes.
I fear for Brock’s venture in the west, I fear for Hellin’s future in the
north, and now, with the D’ith Hallencloister our destination, I fear for our
own.”

“As do I.”

“When do we leave? It is perhaps four weeks ride north to
the Hallencloister.”

“Perhaps a little less if we don’t dawdle, and it’s a bit slightly
west of north.”

“And when do we leave?”

“I was trying to avoid that question in the hope that I
would blink and the snake  of a worm would be gone.”

“I am sorry.”

“I, too. Tomorrow morning, at dawn. If Brock holds to his
plans, it’s tomorrow he crosses the Ostern. And it’s tomorrow we cross the
Sudenstem. A swift and clean break will make it easier than a lengthy farewell,
and in truth, there is little we need to do to prepare.”

“Our lady will not let you leave without Sighted eyes to
watch over you, you know that.”

“Yes. If she insists, and doubtless she will, I’ll take
Ranger Venderrian. He did well at the tower.”

“And no-one else?”

“No. I intend to speed our journey there and back. All I
want is the Hallencloister’s answer to a very simple question, and then we’ll
return and build our lives here.”

“And the question?”

“Why.”

oOo

3. Arrangements

Gawain eyed them all at the table, his trusted friends, his
lieutenants, his allies. None of them seemed particularly happy. It was Tyrane
who spoke first, as Gawain knew it would be. The Callodonian officer had been,
after all, Gawain’s Adjutant at the Battle of Far-gor, and a good friend long
before that.

“You know my failings as well I, m’lord,” the tall and
crisply-dressed Major declared softly. “It should therefore come as no surprise
that I cannot imagine a reason why you would leave your hall so soon after your
return from the Eastbinding, especially since it is well known that the
Hallencloister was sealed tight as a drum even before we left the foot of
Raheen and travelled the Jarn Road together.”

“I know, my friend. And that is the very reason I must go
there. If all other counsel is to be believed, and Morloch is indeed a spent
force licking his wounds behind the Teeth, if the Toorseneth now has naught but
spies and penny-blades east of Elvendere for the exercising of its will, and if
Brock and Igorn meet success in the Old Kingdom in the weeks to come, then
there are but two forces which may yet act against us here in Last Ridings.”

“Two, sire?”

“Aye, Wex, two. First, Hellin’s Hall, and the queen herself blind
and embittered and broken on the wheel of grief. She has set her face against
us, and with her new and fresh-faced matrimonial alliance with the elf lordling
Insinnian, she is busy now handing her people, and us with them, on a plate to
the ToorsenViell. And second, the D’ith Hallencloister, which by mystic means
or by our own urgent business elsewhere has evaded all attention since its
gates were closed. There is nothing we can or should do about Hellin. Her own
people will make their feelings known in due course. But the Hallencloister
must remain a conundrum no more.”

“Yet, my lord, none have been admitted since the gates were
drawn up,” the wizard Corax reminded them, “And none have come out. At least,
not to anyone’s knowledge.”

Gawain nodded. “I know. And that is why I must go there. It
is the single biggest piece missing from a puzzle as yet incomplete, which, if
my intuition is correct, might hold the answer to the one question all of us
have been afraid to ask since the new Hall of Raheen was built here in Last
Ridings.”

“What question, m’lord?”

Gawain smiled at Tyrane. “May we now at last dwell here in
peace, and build our lives anew, untroubled, in friendship and in joy?”

“The answer to that is already known, miThal,” Valin sighed.
“Did we not learn from the enemy at Urgenenn’s Tower that the Toorseneth possesses
seed, and spore, and spawn?”

“Yes.”

“Then,” Elayeen declared, her voice quiet, and lilting, and
rich with sorrow, “There can be no peace for us, and our lives shall always be
troubled. Not until the liberation of Elvendere may we ever hope to be safe
from the Toorseneth.”

“Which is of course why I have taken such precautions as I
have, miheth. And why I have called you all to this table here in my hall, to
ensure those precautions continue in my absence. Allazar and I will be gone no
more than two months, all being well. Less, if the Sardor of Hallencloister has
the good sense to answer my question promptly and with courtesy. In the
meantime, my friend Martan and his team have their orders and are busy about
their business. Please do not impede them in any way.”

“We have the down-below, sire,” Wex frowned, shifting
nervously in his seat. “Is a fort at the headland really needed, do you believe?
Is there something we should know?”

“I hope not. But we have seen the kind of creatures which
might be spawned against us through the power of aquamire, be it of the false variety
or otherwise. Our settlement and its population are growing, and I want
everyone safe, not just those who can be accommodated in the vault.
Down-below.”

Wex nodded. He was of course Gawain’s man, and could not
oppose his king’s departure. But it was plain to see that he, and doubtless all
the others in the Crown’s Guard too when they found out, was far from happy at
the prospect.

“Will you take Rider Reef with you again, sire?”

“No. I’ll take none of the Guard. Your duty is entirely to
our lady and the new prince she bears. I’ll not reduce the number of watchful
eyes about my queen for the sake of company on what I hope will be a simple and
speedy journey. It may be that the wizards are right, and I shall gain no admittance
to the whitebeards’ den, so be it then, the sooner I’ll return. But make no
mistake, there’s but one thing I expect of those who serve me, and one boon I
hope my friends not bound by fealty will grant me, and that is the defence and
protection of my queen.”

“Our enemies have seed, spore, and spawn, miThal. Which of
the rangers will you take to be your Sighted eyes on this journey?”

“You shall take at least one, my lord,” Elayeen said, and
her voice, as Gawain had expected, brooked no argument.

“Ranger Venderrian. Unless you, my lady, or Rangers Valin or
Meeya, know of any reason why it should be someone else?”

Elayeen glanced from Meeya to Valin, and receiving no sign
of disapproval, acquiesced.

“Ven it is then,” Gawain declared. “Ranger Valin, would you
make the arrangements? I intend to cross to the south bank at dawn, thence to West Forkings and its ferry to the north side.”

“I shall, miThal.”

“Thank you. And thank you all, I know each of you has a
thousand questions, and likely a thousand reasons why I should not undertake
this journey. But my own reason is not the only one for making the trek north;
Allazar too has good cause to accompany me. My friend Tyrane, I know you and
your men are fretful concerning events soon to take place near the Jarn Gap. I
share your concerns, of course. Your remaining here in Last Ridings is a source
of great comfort both to myself and to my queen. But this time, I don’t expect
to see you riding up behind me dragging a carriage-bow or some other ancient
weapon with which to assail the gates of the Hallencloister.”

“Understood, m’lord,” Tyrane smiled sadly, “I shall remain,
and do what I can here, on King Brock’s behalf, and in honour of friendship.”

Gawain nodded his gratitude. “There is one thing you might
look to, with your professional eye?”

“Name it, m’lord.”

“Our settlement grows, as you know, and with more farming
expertise having arrived from Callodon of late, fresh crops have been sown. Yet
we have little or no winter stores put aside in the down-below. Dun Meven was
very well provisioned. Could you draw up a list of stores, enough to see all
our people through winter at least, and perhaps some besides? If you haven’t
already, that is.”

“I can, m’lord. Jars of pickled roping?”

Gawain smiled. “If you insist, but my friends Lord Rak,
Ognorm, and Martan of Tellek brought half a boat-load of frak with them which
is already snug in the down-below, so it’ll be you and your men Clane and Bari
eating the fishy delicacy, not me or mine.”

“We can discuss such practical matters in the days to come,
Major,” Elayeen announced softly, “I will arrange with Arbo and others to
assist in obtaining the provisions from West Forkings, or Mereton if necessary.”

“M’lady.”

Gawain nodded, and again glanced around the table. Elayeen,
Allazar, Corax, Tyrane, Wex, Valin, and Meeya. He’d decided to leave Martan and
the other dwarves in peace, they knew his requirements and were working hard to
meet them. Wex would advise the Crown’s Guard, Valin would notify Ranger
Venderrian. Precautions had been taken, and there was now little else to do but
pass the hours until dawn, and their departure. Still, Gawain was reluctant to
end their gathering so abruptly, it seemed to make him feel like a thief in his
own hall, stealing food and drink from the table and then running away into the
night.

“How long before we might expect to hear anything from
Brock,” he asked of Tyrane, “Concerning his efforts in the Old Kingdom?”

“I saw birds and a Birdmaster in the lists of Igorn’s materiel.
Communication from the command tent to his Majesty will be speedy. But until
Harribek’s birds are fully trained here, we can expect a delay in learning
anything direct from the court. Harks Hearth will send word by rider to Dun
Meven and Mereton. Thence it’ll come downriver to us here.”

“Pellarn is a large land,” Allazar declared. “Liberating it
might take some considerable time, even with aid from the Gorian resistance
there.”

“And even with nothing but mercenaries to hold Pellarn
Castletown, it could still take time and a siege to breach their defences. It
could be weeks before we hear anything, m’lord, and months before the Old Kingdom is fully restored.”

“And it will take time to restore the breach in the
barriers, mystic and common, along the Eramak,” Allazar added sternly, “And
during that time Pellarn is still at risk from Maraciss and his armies.”

Gawain nodded. “Much will depend on the Goth-lord’s ambitions.
If his jealousy of his brother and his lust for the golden throne of Zanatheum
is all-consuming, Maraciss will count as nothing the loss of Pellarn and expend
all his efforts and direct all his resources towards the northwest. If it’s
lust for power only which drives him, as it did Armun Tal, he might not cede
Pellarn so easily. Everything seems to depend upon how mad Maraciss is, and
having said that, it’s no wonder the world is holding its breath.”

“During the feast, m’lord, you said that Pelliman Goth’s
ship was the fly in the ointment. Have you had any more thoughts on the
subject?”

“Yes. We know Kallaman Goth was ensconced within Urgenenn’s
Tower to observe the keeping of the pact between the Toorseneth and Maraciss
under threat of the Goth-lord’s invading the east should elfwizards fail to
uphold their end of the bargain. It made little sense to me, in truth, knowing
Maraciss is fixed upon the throne of Empire. But madness abounds, it seems, and
so I tried to put myself in the Goth-lord’s shoes, and the more I thought about
it, the more bizarre the pact twixt ToorsenViell and Goth-lords became.”

Gawain took a sip of wine, and then gazed into the rich,
dark liquid.

“And the ship?” Allazar prompted.

“Oh. Sorry. I put myself in Simatheum, in Maraccis’ shoes,
and tried to imagine his circumstances. Another lesson from dear old Captain
Hass. He told me,
y’highness, we’re all a product of our times and our
training. Understand the times and the enemy’s training, and you have the key
to his mind.
Can any of us hope to imagine the tightrope upon which
Maraciss now walks? From Salaman Goth he has learned dark wizardry and begun
the second rising of the Goth-lords. He has made enemies of Morloch, his
brother and Emperor, Zersees, and all the lands here in the east since the
taking of Pellarn. With Salaman Goth he sought the same weapon Morloch wanted
for himself three hundred years ago, and if he’d achieved it, he would have
destroyed utterly Pellarn Castletown and all its inhabitants as surely as
Calhaneth was razed, before marching with it to Zanatheum.

“Not only must he contend with any dark wizards still loyal
to a weakened Morloch, but also his neighbours, other Goth-lords arisen and
ambitious in that vast land we call the Empire. And on his eastern flank, the
great forest of Elvendere, which he knows is filled with elves, all of them
well-trained with the bow and masters of their domain.

“Enemies to the north, and to the west, and possibly even to
the south if Armunland and its Tals oppose him, or if a Goth-lord rises there
now to fill the void left by the destruction of Salaman Goth. Of course he
would fear the east, and jump at the chance to enjoy free passage along the
border with Elvendere. And of course he would be suspicious of everything and
everyone, trusting only himself. Such is the lot of the dictator who governs by
force alone, there is always another waiting in the wings to usurp the usurper.
Loyalty in such lands is bought, either with coin or with fear.

“So he sent Kallaman Goth to observe. Not simply to see the
terms of their contract met, but perhaps also to spy, and learn the nature and
intent of those who occupy such a long and unbroken border with his lands.”

“Then we are fortunate Kallaman Goth is dead,” Tyrane
declared, “Since he would also know how weak are these lands.”

“Indeed,” Gawain agreed. “I doubt even the Toorseneth would
betray all of us and themselves by selling or giving away such knowledge. But
without a Graken of his own, and that was probably a stipulation by the
Toorseneth whose creed would not permit a dark wizard flapping about the place,
Kallaman Goth was trapped behind the Eastbinding, his Eye of Morloch blinded,
except perhaps for the short sight of the device borne aloft by his Condavian.
Pelliman Goth was sent to retrieve him from Urgenenn’s Tower and there are many
reasons I can think of for that. Some are alarming, some are encouraging.

 “But the simple fact is, and the only reason at the root of
all other causes for Pelliman Goth’s ship is, Maraciss believed retrieving
Kallaman Goth worth risking the life of Pelliman Goth, and a ship, its crew,
and any retinue sent with the dark wizard for his protection.”

“And those risks combined are resources of considerable
value indeed,” Allazar frowned. “Just as well then, as Major Tyrane noted, that
Kallaman Goth is destroyed.”

“You said some reasons were alarming, m’lord, and some
encouraging?”

“I did, Tyrane, and perhaps it’s as well you can’t imagine
them as I can.”

“Perhaps just one of the encouraging ones then, m’lord? Just
to give me some hope in the weeks to come, you understand.”

Gawain nodded. “Yes I do. Well then, here’s the most
encouraging one I can think of: Maraciss is so desperately short of dark
wizards to serve his cause, he risked one of great power to fetch another home.”