Worms' Ending: Book Eight (The Longsword Chronicles 8) (42 page)

Allazar nodded, deftly slicing a chunk of roast beef. “I
anticipate details of the wizards yet in Threlland to arrive when Master
Arramin replies with other information I requested. Though, it may not be until
the season is become safer for ships to put to sea; I do not think Master
Arramin will allow the material I asked for to be carried overland.”

“M’lord,” Tyrane announced, “Forgive my dullard’s lack of
imagination, but who now is the enemy? Before, when our battle-lines were drawn
and the army gathered at Far-gor, the enemy of all free lands was plain to see
advancing towards us across the farak gorin. Now, we seem beset on all sides.”

Gawain nodded, swallowed a mouthful, and took a draught of
wine. “There is, as ever, only one enemy, Tyrane, and that is, as ever,
Morloch. It was Morloch in his madness created a monster of Toorsen, and now
Toorsen’s followers continue that mad work. It’s the Toorseneth and their
creations which now plague the lands, and, for now at least, hold Juria in
thrall to protocol and Insinnian’s stewardship. But, Morloch is all but spent
and though desperately attempting to claw back some degree of influence in the
northwest, is not our main concern now.

“Now, the Toorseneth is the enemy of all lands east of the
great forest, and of all elves who dwell therein, though many of them know it
not. It’s the Toorseneth destroyed the Hallencloister and the wizards therein.
It’s the Toorseneth now bent upon the hunting of wizards to extinction.

“As for Juria, my friends, we must be circumspect now in our
dealing with our former allies. Many of those yet wear the emblem of the
Kindred Army, though concealed from plain sight. But there are more like the
worm who in his bloodlust and perhaps eagerness to earn some unknown reward
robbed us of Venderrian’s light. Those serve Insinnian’s will, and being
dressed in the same uniforms as our friends, make it harder for us to tell
friend from foe at a distance.”

“What must we do, m’lord?”

“Do, Tyrane? We must do much the same as Morloch is doing.
We must regroup, gather our friends close, extend our influence, protect what
loyal wizards remain, and prepare for an uncertain future. Morloch’s last
desperate declaration was his intention neither to diminish nor fade. That is
my intention for us, too. Our world has already changed beyond recognition, and
is changing still. We need to become entirely self-sufficient if we can, so that
the Ranger’s Oath may be honoured when the calls come for aid, as surely they shall.”

There was a brief silence while the diners continued eating,
three of them with hearty appetites, the rest more thoughtfully and wearing
expressions of concern which Gawain noted over the rim of his cup.

“It is not entirely as grim a state of affairs as it seems
at first glance,” he declared with conviction. “On our journey back to the
safety of this hall we learned a great deal about the enemy we now face. Their
qualities are limited, common force archaic and grounded in tactics and
strategies we at this table would hold antique. Their strength is in the mystic
power they are able to wield, and the creatures they have learned to copy from
models obtained from the west. But even that strength is limited, their
resources limited, and, it seems, those who oppose their will are gaining
ground. Word from friends in Juria has it that their grip in Thallanhall is
beginning to slip, and that can only work in our favour.”

“In truth, miThal?” Valin asked, his expression suddenly
hopeful.

“So it seems,” and Gawain described the conversation
overheard by the aged Lord Chamberlain of Juria, and passed on by Captain
Byrne.  

“This is welcome news indeed, miheth,” Elayeen announced.
“It would seem the loss of the sceptre has caused more harm than we imagined.”

“Yes. Though none of us should remain under any illusions
concerning the influence the Toorseneth wields. Benithet’s Orb, the device
which destroyed the Hallencloister, was, we were told, taken west of
Hallencloister. Where, we know not. Perhaps to Ostinath and the tower. With
such a weapon, the threat of another Calhaneth may well command more influence
in Elvendere than the sceptre ever did.”

But Elayeen shook her head. “I do not think they would make
the existence of such a weapon known. All of Elvendere would rise up in
revulsion should they learn of it, and of its use. Such is certainly the reason
for the old taboo against travelling south of Minyorn, lest the truth of
Calhaneth be discovered.”

“And there lies the nub of our difficulty with Elvendere.
For so long, the Toorseneth has guided thought and all aspects of life in the
forest that almost all who dwell there believe entirely in the doctrines they
have been taught over the centuries. To them, we are the enemy; crude,
barbaric, and war-mongering imbeciles prodding the sleeping dog that was
Morloch into vicious retaliation for our deeds. Me especially; I am the witless
horse-king who violated Elvenheth and Faranthroth and rode roughshod over beliefs
and customs held sacred for millennia. I know how Raheen would have reacted
should an elf have ridden into our Great Hall and declared us all evil though
unwitting servants of Morloch and demanded we change our ways.”

“Thought you said it weren’t grim, melord,” Ognorm muttered,
earning a smile.

“It’s not, not really. Not for us. Elvendere will right
itself in time, as doubtless too shall Juria. It’s not our place to interfere within
those lands unless or until a state of official enmity exists between us, and in
spite of all that’s happened, perhaps because of all that’s happened, I cannot
foresee such a time. At least, not yet. It is one thing for Thallanhall to be
persuaded against individuals such as myself, quite another for it to be
persuaded to all-out war. The same is true also of Juria, where many stood with
us at Far-gor.”

“Yet the Toorseneth will continue to act in furtherance of
its creed until it is destroyed, and the Toorseneth is in Elvendere,” Allazar
declared.

“Yes. For now, we must hope that the Toorseneth has but the
three creatures at its disposal we have encountered thus far, copies made from
the three creatures borne to Urgenenn’s Tower by Kallaman Goth. Graken,
Grimmand, and Seekmaw.”

 “They have Condavians too, and Flagellweed and Spikebulb.
With the false aquamire they are able to produce, and with the Pangoricon and
sufficient time for experimentation, they may yet acquire a large catalogue of
creatures to send against us.”

“But for what purpose, Allazar? Their warped minds are bent
on the destruction of wizardkind, we are surely small beer compared with that
goal. If the Toorseneth opens a second front against dark wizards in the west,
then they will certainly face the might of Maraciss on their western border,
and in comparison with
that
prospect we are surely small fry. However,”
Gawain took another draught of wine, “It’s true, we three are tired, and
tonight is not the time for strategies. I do think our new lines of
communication will serve us well, and must be extended. I feel our rangers will
soon be called upon to seek out and destroy the Seekmaws and whatever else is
loosed by the Toorseneth in friendly lands in furtherance of their principal
goal, and
that
goal is the ending of wizards everywhere.”

“Then by your leave, my lady, now that Sardor Allazar is
returned, I shall give greater attention to assisting Birdmaster Harribek and
strengthening if I can his natural magic in the training of his birds?”

“Thank you, wizard Corax,” Elayeen acknowledged, “That would
seem a valuable area in which to increase your efforts.”

Gawain nodded. “Well, then. We’ve offended the cooks quite
enough with serious talk. If there is no other news which requires our urgent
attention, let’s make of this board a culinary wasteland, and talk of gentler
subjects. How is baby Kamryn, Maeve? Are the residents of Last Ridings able to
sleep at night now?”

And so the dinner progressed, with gentle talk on lighter
subjects, and the three of the ended quest slowly becoming accustomed to the
happy and welcome fact of gentle company, the business of watchfulness now gratefully
relinquished into the safe hands of others.

oOo

43. PS…

Over the course of the following days, Gawain seemed to be
everywhere; tending Gwyn in the fields behind the tavern, in the tavern, at the
immense structure taking shape at the headland, atop Crown Peak and learning
how to operate the machine which watchkeepers had designated ‘Urman’s
Graken-bow’. If not in those places, then riding the perimeter to see for
himself the extent of the settlement’s growth, and stopping to talk with all
those he met.

Evenings were spent in the hall, seated as close to the
hearth as the conflagrations built therein by Arbo allowed, talking with
Elayeen and Allazar, and other friends. Nights, of course, were spent entirely
alone with Elayeen, he listening to all the gossip accumulated in the months of
his absence and occasionally practicing the expression Rak had taught him, but
mostly not needing to such was his delight in Elayeen’s joyful recounting of entirely
domestic events.

A homecoming feast was held, and it too was a happy affair,
it being wisely decided that a recounting of all the events of their journey
would best be told afterwards so as not to spoil the mood. Thus it was two days
after the feast that a gathering was held in the hall, and a full accounting
given. For Allazar and Corax, the details provided by Gawain’s extraordinary
memory of the Hallencloister and Sardor Eljon’s courageous suffering were
painful, and many were the tears shed by many of those who listened that night.

Events at Hellin’s Hall were described in detail, too, and
great was the shock of all in Last Ridings on learning the extent of the
Toorseneth’s grip there. Gawain, for the sake of Allazar, glossed over the
harsher details of Eldenbeard’s actions in the Castletown, for which Allazar
seemed a little grateful, but the recounting of the Hallencloister filled the
wizards with great melancholy which was not easily lifted.

Dwarves were pleased to learn that all was well in their
homeland and the people there untroubled since Morloch’s appearance at Tarn the previous year, and all sat wide-eyed when Gawain and Ognorm told of the battle of
widow’s peak hill, and agog at their descriptions of the battle of the binding
and Morloch’s part in it. Those wide eyes became wet with tears when the hall
learned of Venderrian’s loss, and features set grim and approving when subsequent
vengeance was described, the killer ended, and then the elfwizards of the
Toorseneth destroyed in accordance with natural justice.

Finally came a brief accounting of the ending of the Seekmaw
and Ranger Kiran’s part in it, the ranger yet on patrol but others of elfkind
in the hall appreciating Gawain’s acknowledgement of Kiran’s skills in stalking
the beast and loosing what would have been a fatal shot moments before
Allazar’s fire annihilated the immense creature.

Then, at the end of the tale’s telling, Gawain astonished
many of them when he declared that in truth, he could foresee no need for his
leaving Last Ridings for some considerable time to come. The worms, he
declared, those infamous worms of his, were ended. Now was the time for
building, regrouping, planning for the future, and doing what could be done to
make ready for any eventuality, as Raheen always had been.

The times ahead, he told them, were uncertain, and though
Last Ridings was far too small on its own to take responsibility for all the
lands around them, it
could
take responsibility for the Oath all rangers
had taken, and work as best they could towards the making of a reality from the
ideal held by the words Friyenheth, Ceartus, Omniumde.

Later that night, alone in their apartments, Gawain and
Elayeen sat in a large chair wrapped in a colourful blanket, she on his lap, he
marvelling at the weight and size of her as he had since his return, and
remaining unconvinced of her robustness in spite of her frequent protests that
she was neither fragile nor ill.

“Did you mean what you said, G’wain? About not leaving Last
Ridings now?”

“Of course. Where would I go?”

“I have always feared you would charge with sword drawn
along the Morrentill and into the very heart of the Toorseneth.”

“You’ve forbidden me to do that, remember?”

“Yes I did, but I know enough now of the horse-kings of yore
to know that my forbidding of something and your obeying such a command are two
completely different matters.”

“True,” Gawain agreed happily, idly stroking her hair, “But
I honestly believe I am needed here now more than my blade is needed at the
Toorseneth. Besides, I have seen with my own eyes a battle wizard unleashed
upon an enemy of common strength, and the chaos and destruction which ensued.
The Toorseneth does not abide by the old rules of Zaine and his mandates. Nor
now, I think, will those wizards of the D’ith who have survived to learn of the
destruction of their Hallencloister. Against a tower filled with wizards, I
would have no chance at all.”

“No,” she sighed. “I am glad. I do not think I could bear it
if you left again so soon.”

“Me too,” he smiled, and kissed her, “Which is as it should
be, after all.”

“Yet I fear as soon as a call for aid comes, you will leap
upon Gwyn’s back and ride into danger, and I shall be left alone again,
wondering alone in the night whether you will return to me. To us.”

“No,” Gawain sighed, feeling a new and unexpected calm
billowing through him when he uttered the word. “The world has changed, E.
Juria stands on the brink of civil uprising as does Elvendere. Juria is
occupied by forces of the Toorseneth, as is Elvendere. The major difference is,
of course, that Jurians know only too well the treachery of Toorsen’s creed and
will not tolerate occupation by unwelcome forces for long. It’s also possible
that the same is becoming true in the forest, too. I have no business in Elvendere
or in Juria. They must wrench their own destinies from Toorsen’s dead grip.
What calls may come now I think will be for the Kindred Rangers to answer.”

“In truth?”

“I think so. The Creed have neither resources nor influence
enough to persuade Thallanhall to war, and conquest is not their goal. They
simply want wizardkind extinct, and to that end will send Seekmaw and Grimmand
and whatever else they can employ in their hunt for their whitebearded quarry.
It’ll fall to the Sighted rangers to seek out and destroy such creatures. In
truth, E, that Seekmaw we encountered was almost upon us, and but for Gwyn’s
senses would have had Allazar’s head in its jaws had not we been alerted first
to Kiran’s presence. A wizard alone would have stood no chance. Kiran showed me
that night how best Last Ridings and the rangers may serve the kindred in the
months, perhaps years, to come.”

“And wizardkind? What will become of them? Will Allazar
build a new Hallencloister here?”

“I do not think so. He is, like you and I, bound by the
duties inflicted by the circles. I am not certain there will be another
Hallencloister, not of the kind there once was. You should know, E,” Gawain
suddenly whispered, “You should know that I finally understand the sadness I
have seen in you and in Valin, and Meeya, and others. I understand the verse of
the Arathalaneer, the one Venderrian told us of when we were in the north.”

“Which verse?” Elayeen whispered, and shivered in spite of
the blanket and the warmth of the hall and Gawain’s embrace.

“Dark days old are come, dark days new are born, in war and
strife and rising dread, dark days new are born, and shadows, ‘til arrives the
reaper.”

He felt her head nodding against his shoulder, and kissed
the top of her head.

“Time has caught up with us, G’wain.”

“Then it shouldn’t be surprised if I rip off its arm and
beat it to death with its own hand. We have endured more suffering than any
eldenbeard had a right to expect. I do not intend simply to bow my head and
kneel to some crypt-dweller dead for millennia. We shall live our lives,
Elayeen, together, and we shall raise our children as our own. They shall be
what they themselves wish to be. From us, and from our friends, they shall
learn the strength and power of love, and friendship, nobility, honour and
grace; they’ll learn all the lessons we can teach them, so that whatever
possesses stupidity enough to rise up against them shall know brief terror in
the moments before an abrupt ending. Be it Morloch, eldenbeards or ToorsenViell
or creatures of the Pangoricon, those who dare disturb the peace of Last
Ridings and its friends shall rue the day they did so.”

Elayeen sniffed, her fingers gently patting his chest while
he held her, and together they sat in the glow and warmth of their love until
the hour drew late, and they retired to sleep.

Nearing the end of January, Gawain found himself alone with
Allazar in the down-below, sitting in almost exactly the same place they had
the day before they’d left for the Hallencloister. Together, they watched the
water gurgling from the spout in the far wall, as if waiting for the pool
beneath to overflow and thus confound the ancient design of the wizard who’d
made it.

“Are you well, Allazar? You’ve been very quiet of late.”

“I am well, Longsword. Events have finally had time to catch
up with me, and finally I have had time to consider them, that is all.”

“Elayeen said much the same thing. Time has caught up with
us, she said.”

“Our lady is wise. I often think there is much wisdom
contained within the teachings of Minyorn. I should like one day to learn all
the tales and lessons she was taught by her mother.”

Gawain nodded. “I at least had rage and a target for it in
the Ramoth when I discovered my world ended at Raheen. Alas, the only target
remaining for the destruction of the Hallencloister lies in Ostinath, and I
doubt you and I shall see that great roundtower again.”

Allazar nodded. “I, too, have been prohibited from venturing
there by our lady. Though, she need not have been concerned. The shock of the
loss of the Hallencloister is diminishing, though as you have often said, the
rage doubtless shall not die. It is true I was always something of a radical in
the eyes of my brethren, and it is true that I held something of a low opinion
of them. But they were my brethren, nevertheless. My kind.”

“I know your pain, my friend,” Gawain whispered, finally
relenting and uttering the word which had pounded over and over in his head in
time with the beating of his heart and the pulsing energies of Kanosenn’s
binding.

“Yes,” the wizard whispered. “And I now know yours.”

They shared a long silence then, glowstones in the high
vaulted ceiling above them shining a dull orange, water in the pool gurgling.

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

“Perhaps it is, of a kind.”

Gawain nodded. “No more worms.”

“I still have one. A small one, which I think diminishes a
little day by day, and thus may not be as important as once I thought it to
be.”

“The Book of Thangar?”

Allazar nodded. “The final illustration. Master Arramin will
send it to me in due course. Yet, I think perhaps it matters not. The panel I
cannot remember doubtless merely points at the next, the circle turning, the
world changing. Our panel, our time, the segment between spokes of a great
wheel slowly revolving, until the next panel comes to the fore, and those who
dwell therein bear the load.”

“There was a time I would have laughed and berated you for
such philosophical nonsense and declared it utter whitebeard Orsey-kek. It is
difficult so to do while sitting here, the sceptre and the Morgmetal box safely
tucked away behind us, waiting for my unborn son’s hand to wield the one and
open the other.”

“I think, sitting here now, I would have preferred a lump or
two, and your laughter. For you to agree with me seems to add weight to the
notion that more is yet to come which we ourselves must bear.”

“Oh, that wouldn’t surprise me at all. Just because the
eldenbeards are long dead and dust doesn’t mean I trust them any further than I
can throw Gwyn.”

There was another short silence in the cavernous down-below,
broken only by the waters of the pool. Neither Allazar nor Corax had been able
to determine whether that crystal-clear flow was simply river-water from the
Sudenstem filtered through rocks, or whether it bubbled up from far below,
perhaps even from an offshoot of the mystic and now not-so-mythical Avongard.

Then Gawain astonished the wizard by giving a sudden snort
of laughter.

“Are you well, Gawain?”

“Yes, I’m well. Just remembering something Martan said when he
gave me a guided tour of his so-called lower workin’s.”

“Ah,” the wizard dropped his voice to a whisper again. “The
secret passage which links the down-below to the roundtower?”

“Yes. I thought its construction a prudent precaution. We’ve
no idea what might be sent against us, and the ability to be able to move
between the one place and the other might prove useful in the future. It was an
intuition I had when still filled with strange aquamire.”

“Now that
is
worrying,” Allazar declared. “Last time
you had such an intuition where Martan of Tellek was concerned, a vast web was
dug beneath the farak gorin.”

“He made the association too. While showing me the tunnel,
he mentioned the Morgmetal spike he discovered in the number six run beneath
the farak gorin, saying he was disappointed not to find another one here. And he
asked if his drawing of the spike had proved to be of any use. I told him it
had, and that it was a message of a kind from elder days which helped us vex
Morloch greatly. It was his reply and the memory of it evoked my snort of
laughter just now, with our talk of eldenbeards and their carefully-laid
plans.”

“What was his reply?”

“He said:
Aye well, glad we found it in that run at
Far-gor then. Let’s just ‘ope there weren’t a PS though, ‘cos if’n there were,
be a bugger to find it now.
”