Turning and clapping an arm about both son and daughter, Aranor walked them to the sideboard. “Come now, let us all sit at meal, and speak to me of the battle of Arnsburg, for I would hear every scrap of it.”
And so, amid flashes of lightning and claps of thunder, Aranor, Elyn, Elgo, Ruric, and Gannor all sat down to a meal before a roaring fire set to drive the chill away. And they talked long into the night as the storm slowly passed, moving eastward, until each thunderstroke was but a remote flicker, followed by a distant rumble lagging far behind.
That night, too, Aranor gave black-oxen horns unto both Elyn and Elgo, signifying that each was a full-fledged warrior, Elgo’s trump bound ’round with a golden band, Elyn’s marked with a silver rune.
And never again were Elyn’s rights as a Warrior Maid questioned. And never again would she be denied the choice as to whether to ride to battle, although a time would come when duty would demand that she stay behind-e’en though her heart would lie elsewhere.
CHAPTER 11
Year’s Long Night, 3E1600
[Two Years Past]
Always and ever did Elgo’s prideful mind return to the problem of Sleeth: how to slay the great Cold-drake and claim his hoard. A year went by, then another, and one more and more, until six all told had fled. And every year in the long winter when curtains of werelight high in the auroral night shifted and burned with strange colors, his thoughts would turn to great deeds of derring-do. And his canny mind found ways to accomplish these deeds. He would run down Flame, the red stallion, giving the mighty steed to Aranor. He would steal the fair Arianne from the very fortress of Hagor, taking her as his willing bride. He would slay Golga, single-handedly, for he ever remembered Ruric’s words about his responsibilities for the lives of others. He would do all these things and more, winning great renown; yet ever his mind returned to Sleeth and the killing of a Dragon.
And he thought upon all the things that Ruric had said, and Elyn, and even the words of Trent, searching for clues, searching for a way to do the deed, remembering his own oath.
And finally, one frigid night in a darkened castle his voice whispered in awed revelation, his words growing in strength with his conviction: “It is so simple. . so very simple. By Adon”-his wild laughter filled the enshadowed halls-“By Adon!” For Elgo had at last conceived his plan for defeating Sleeth, a plan that six months later upon Year’s Long Day would bring him and forty others into a vale along the Rigga Mountains, a vale leading unto the sundered doors of lost Blackstone, unto the very holt of the great Cold-drake.
But that was yet to be, and on this bodeful night when his plan was first cast, high in the auroral midnight sky the shifting curtains of spectral werelight burned a ghastly red. . a rending, bloody red.
CHAPTER 12
Late Spring, 3E1601
[Last Year]
Sleeping upon a bed of stolen gold, something disturbed the reptilian dreams of Sleeth. Slowly, one great ophidian eye slid open, the clear nictitating membrane remaining in place, protection, for the great Cold-drake sensed a distant danger-or perhaps nought but a light threat.
Sluggishly he cast his senses forth, sweeping outward from Blackstone and into the vale beyond. What’s this? Men? Men in my domain? Cavernous laughter echoed in the Dragon’s mind. Surely this is not the threat I sensed.
Sleeth sifted his thoughts back through time to find an elusive memory: Thrice some paltry fools came knocking at my door. But Dwarves they were, not Men. Dwarven War parties. Seeking to reclaim that which I took for my own. And thrice I destroyed them. Fools!
Yet that was within the first century of my conquest.
But now these Men draw nigh.
Well and good, for it is better that my next meal come to me, rather than I to it.
Gauging the rate of their progress, Sleeth shifted his bulk slightly, settling deeper into the gold. Time enough. The yellow eye closed, and once again the Dragon’s mind fell into lustful dreams of power and destruction.
CHAPTER 13
Late Summer, 3E1602
[The Present]
Leaving the slain Drōkha, Elyn and Thork fared easterly, into the rising Moon. A hostile truce stretched taut across the uneasy silence between them. Through the night they rode as the argent orb sailed up and across the crystal sphere. Yet now and again Elyn would feel the hair rise at the nape of her neck, as if some unseen evil glared at her. In these moments she would glance at Thork to find the Dwarf peering into the dark shadows Moon-streaming from rock, tree, bush, and thicket, his eyes seeking hidden enemies. But none were there. Even so, the vigilance of the twain did not lessen.
Slowly they fetched east, grey horse and dappled pony, bearing their burdens toward the distant borders of Aralan. At times a freshette would cross their path, and they would all drink of the clear water and rest a while, the two riders feeding small amounts of grain to their steeds, taking care of other needs as well. At other times dark hillocks loomed up before them, and they would swing wide to pass them by, for shadowy hillocks could conceal waiting foe.
At last the sky began to lighten, false dawn before them. And the two began to consider where they might camp and rest. But three more hours passed and the Sun was fully risen ere they found a suitable site: a low grassy knoll ’neath a lone shade tree near a stream slowly meandering across an open flat where ambuscades were unlikely.
“This time I will take the first watch, Dwarf,” said Elyn, as they tended to the needs of their mounts. “And though I am weary”-she glanced at the position of the Sun-“let us stand six and six, for I would rather sleep but once, instead of twice, though Adon knows I could stay aslumber the full day. And I will hunt close by once more during my ward, for I am in want of food.”
Thork merely grunted his assent, as he rubbed down his spotted steed.
Finally, the two carried their saddles and other goods up to the campsite, where, shrugging out of his armor, Thork cast himself upon his bedroll and was instantly asleep.
Again Elyn bathed in the stream and cared for her wounds, still tender, some raw, treating these with small amounts of salve and dressing them with fresh bandages, washing out the old. Then she took up her sling and bow and arrows and, treading with a slight limp, walked out upon the grassland, coming at last to an area raddled with burrow holes. Within the hour she had bagged seven fat prairie marmots. Leaving the warren behind, she gutted and cleaned the game, setting five to roast upon green-branch skewers over a small fire on the downwind side of the camp. When at last they were done, Elyn suspended four of them by their spits from the overhead tree branches; the other one she hungrily devoured.
Finishing her meal, Elyn washed in the stream and took a deep drink of the clear water, and then sat in the warm Sun, watching the breeze blow gently through the endless grass as she kept a careful lookout upon the plain. And high overhead a predator circled, catching Elyn’s eye, a red hawk on the wing. And the Warrior Maiden watched its questing pattern, her mind casting back to better days. And the hawk stooped, folding its wings and hurtling downward, plummeting toward unseen prey hidden from Elyn’s sight in the tall grass. Hai, Redwing, go! she silently urged, calling her own favorite bird to mind. And just ere plunging into the earth, the hawk flicked its wings outward, correcting its course, then hurtled into the grass beyond seeing. Elyn found that she was on her feet, but she could not recall standing up. Shading her eyes, long she gazed at the point where hunter had disappeared; and after silent while, the bird reappeared, wings hammering upward, slain coney clutched in its talons. As always, Elyn felt regret for the victim, while at the same time admiring the victor. And as the red hawk coursed northward, a thought came unbidden into her mind: What unseen stalker preys upon us, I wonder?