Illengond Page 32

  Elynna listened, then, as Thimeon told of his journey. “When I left you,” he began, looking at Elynna, “I was seeking only a way to get back to Citadel. With the help of Tienna, I was able to climb down from the Plains to the lower lands of the south. After a night of rest, I made my way southward to the trade road that runs between Citadel and Aënport. There, by good fortune, I met a merchant named Lluanthro—”

  “Lluanthro!” a voice shouted. Elynna turned to see Lluach leap to his feet. “That’s my father,” he said excitedly.

  “Yes,” Thimeon replied. “So I guessed. I meant to talk with you earlier. I’m sorry. I had much on my mind. I will tell you more later. Your father was traveling with your uncle and brother, and another young man.” Lluach sat back down, and Thimeon continued. “They offered me transport to Citadel in their wagons. When I learned who Lluanthro was, and I guessed his relationship to you, I told him I had traveled with you. He was delighted to hear that you had left the army of Citadel, and he became even more eager to help me. As a merchant, he has always been granted entry into the palace, and he thought he could get me in with him. Once inside, I hoped to find the secret passages. That plan failed, however, for Lluanthro was turned away.”

  “Turned away?” Lluach asked. “Why?”

  “It matters not,” Thimeon replied. “By the grace of the All-Maker, I stumbled across Siyen and Lyn in a tavern in Citadel. I will not tell you all our tale now. It is enough to say that we had a plan to get into the palace with the help of Kayam. The plan worked, but not to the end we had hoped. Instead of finding the ancient treasures, we rescued Dhan and the others.”

  Elynna was surprised and proud to hear her brother had been involved in the rescue of the prince. The prince had not mentioned him, and Lyn had told her nothing about it either, saying only that he had met Thimeon and joined his company. He had confessed in vague terms an effort to betray the prince for reward, but he had later repented and returned to aid them.

  “What had you hoped to find in the treasure chambers?” the burly duke asked. “I don’t think you ever told us.”

  “I went seeking ancient books that spoke of the early wars against the Daegmon, hoping they might aid us in our battle.”

  “Such books exist?” the duke asked.

  “They did,” Thimeon answered. “Just weeks earlier I had held some of them in my hand. Foolishly I did not bring them out of the castle, and Koranth has since destroyed them. Or so we fear. All that remains is this one volume Borodruin managed to rescue, and the sword I have at my side.”

  Dhan took up the story then. He gave a quick account of his fall from the king’s favor and his eventual imprisonment for treason. He spoke of near despair in the dungeons, his joy at hearing Thimeon’s voice, and then escape from the city through underground tunnels and water systems. After emerging from a well into the courtyard of Corandra and Jhonna, they had managed to flee to Kreana, and up a pass into the mountains. “Only because of the aid of these two women, and Jhaban’s family,” he added with a nod toward Corandra and Jhonna.

  Elynna had never been in the Southlands east of Citadel and she couldn’t picture the geography. But when the prince went on to describe their arrival at Gale Enebe, Elynna thought back on her own visit to the cliff village. and the battle with the creature weeks earlier. She remembered how her relief that had turned to despair when they learned that the Daegmon could not be killed so easily.

  “There I saw our enemy for the first time,” Dhan went on. “I believed what before had seemed so unreal. How we defeated them, I do not know, for the creatures seemed at first impervious to any of our weapons. But some great power shone forth from the ancient book Borodruin had given us. And then the elder of the village—well I don’t know how to describe what happened.”

  “He sacrificed himself for us,” Thimeon said. “We killed one of the Daegmons and the other fled. Chal-char purchased our victory with his life.”

  “Chal-char is dead?” Elynna asked in dismay. She turned toward Cathwain. The young woman’s tear-choked eyes answered the question. Elynna thought of the meals she had eaten in Chal-char’s home, his wisdom, and his gentle hospitality. Her heart grew sadder.

  At the news of the simultaneous defeat of two Daegmons, however, Cathros, Bandor, and several others from their company gave low whistles. Their expressions became hopeful, and almost eager.

  “We left Gale Enebe the next day seeking you,” Thimeon said, “to bring a new weapon and to join our companies. However we soon learned that El-Phern pursued us with a large war band. We fled northward, but our pursuers drew ever closer until they pinned us against the slope of Illengond. We fled into a cave and found our way here, even as an avalanche sealed the way behind us. And that is our tale. We could tell more—of the bravery of the living as well as the fallen—but I think this must suffice for now, unless one day we survive for the people of Gale Enebe to make tapestries of us, or the Anghare to write our songs.”

  Elynna looked down in silence for a minute or two, pondering Thimeon’s tale, and the strange circumstances that had brought the two companies together. Again she thought of her brother, and both the story he had told her and the parts he had left unsaid. She realized everybody was looking at her. Had Thimeon just said something to her?

  “We should hear your tale, now,” the Prince said.

  Elynna was flustered. She wasn’t ready to tell such a painful story aloud, in front of strangers. Out of habit she looked for Cane. But he was no longer with her. Her eyes found his brother instead. “Cathros?” she asked, tentatively.

  Cathros nodded. He rose slowly to his feet and looked around. Then he began the tale that Elynna knew too well. Beginning with Thimeon’s departure, he told of their journey across the Plains, the battle at the base of the Undeani gap and the sacrifice of the Amanti buying their escape, their flight across the Undeani highlands knowing they were pursued by Golach, and that somewhere out there the Daegmons still followed them as well. Then he told of meeting the one called the Gaergaen and the terrible ambush in the Undeani village. The Undeani were visibly disturbed. Braga’s fists were clenched tightly, and turned as white as his sheepskin.

  When Cathros came to the deaths of their companions, and named them all—Cane, Alrew, Kayle, Pietr, Hruach and Marti—though Elynna forced herself to keep watching and listening, nearly every person present bowed their heads. Tears streamed down Cathros’ face as he spoke. Hrevia wept also. Somewhere behind her Elynna heard sobs she thought must be Keet.

  A deep silence followed before Dhan spoke. “How many days have passed since that battle?”

  “Nine days,” Bandor replied.

  “That was the day after we started up the Ana notch,” the prince said after a moment.

  “Yes,” Thimeon agreed. “The day the sword glowed, and we had a vision of a battle.”

  “And then the blade went cold,” Dhan added.

  “The very moment Cane was killed, I would guess,” Thimeon said.

  Cathros tried to speak again, but now his voice was too choked with emotion. He sat down. Several minutes passed. Nobody spoke. Finally, Bandor took up the story again. “After Cane’s death, we were broken. We would have perished if Braga had not come to our aid. He found us just in time and led us underground by the secret ways of his people. Thus we came beneath the mountains all the way to the wild lands south of the great lake. Trusting to the secrecy of our underground voyage, we thought we were safe for a time. Yet our pursuers were relentless. They caught us on the shores of the lake. Thanks to Keet and Breanga we escaped, though only barely.”

  “Escaped? How?” Several voices asked.

  “We built a boat. I should say, Keet designed the boat, and Breanga built it. The rest of us did little except to gather wood.”

  Jhaban shook his head. “You built a boat? A lake-worthy craft big enough to hold you all? I know as much about boats as a
nybody here, I think. That would take weeks even in my father’s shipyard with many men working on it.”

  “Yes,” Bandor answered. “But it took us less than a day.”

  Jhaban raised his brows in disbelief, and a few other of his company muttered under their breath, but Nahoon forestalled their objections. “I would not have dreamed it possible either had I not already witnessed Breanga at work.”

  “He is one of the gifted,” Bandor explained. Everybody listened carefully as he described how Breanga shaped and fashioned wood without any tools, the way a potter can shape clay with his hands. Several of Thimeon’s company whistled or nodded their heads in amazement.

  “The boat was only just finished when the enemy arrived,” Bandor said. “Terror ruled us for several minutes. Daegmons appeared in the air and on the ground. It seemed to take forever as we waited for the last of the company to get into the boat, all the while with soldiers charging out of the woods after us and winged Daegmons overhead. Once in the boat, we could barely get out onto the lake because a fierce storm arose. Gale winds blew hard off the lake straight onto the shore. They kept pushing us right back onto the rocks.”

  Bandor shook his head and a look of wonder filled his face. “Something strange happened then. Something changed. We could see the wind blowing all around us. Waves the size of hills moved past us. Trees on the shore snapped in two. Though all around us the storm raged fiercely, for just a few feet on each side of us, the water and air became almost calm. Not perfectly calm, but no rougher than the waves of a breezy summer day. It felt like we were in the lee of some giant hand.”

  “Still,” Armas said, “it was a bad piece of news to have that storm hit while you were crossing.”

  “That is what we thought at first,” Tienna said. Her voice was soft and quiet, as one who speaks of some great mystery. Everyone leaned forward to listen. “Bad news, it seemed, indeed! I wondered if maybe the Daegmons had conjured up the storm, just as they brought about the early winter in the Ceadani land. But I felt no sense of ill in the wind. To speak the truth, we might have perished without the storm. One of the Daegmons tried to pursue us over the water. Had it caught us out on the boat, we would have been defenseless. But it never caught us. The fierce wind, I think, drove it back, and prevented it from attacking, thus enabling us to reach the far shore safely.”

  Bandor resumed the narration then. He told of the trip upriver in the boat and of the final ambush that drove them into the mountain. “So inward we came,” he concluded. “Of our meeting here I have no need to tell you. It was almost a disaster for us all.”

  “It might still be a disaster,” Aram said. “You speak of having escaped to this place, but as far as I can tell the Daegmons chased us to this very spot. We might as well be in a dungeon.”

  “Having been held in a dungeon, I beg to differ,” Dhan replied. “And while I speak of dungeons, I will tell you all plainly what many of you already guessed. My father has fallen under the control of Koranth, and he himself is almost certainly in league with the Daegmons.”

  “There can be no doubt of that,” Elynna said. “I sensed that when I was there.”

  “What that means,” Thimeon explained, “is that we can expect no help from Citadel.”

  “Then our only hope—the only hope of Gondisle,” the prince replied, “is to destroy the Daegmons ourselves.”

  “And then Koranth,” added Armas.

  “And that,” Thimeon concluded, “leads us to where we are now and the question of how we accomplish such a task.”

  35

  OF WATER, WOOD, AND ROCK

  Thimeon stood deep in thought. The stories had been told, but while he had gained some knowledge listening to Cathros and Bandor tell the tale of Elynna’s company, he had gained no new wisdom or insights into what their next step must be. The thought nagged at him that he ought to be worried about this. Strangely, however, he did not feel the panic or fear he ought to have felt. His feet were planted on rock, solid and deep and heavy. For so many days and weeks the ground had been constantly shifting beneath him. Plans had given way to failure. With the exception of helping the folk of Gale Enebe, it seemed that everything he had tried to accomplish had turned to something else. Yet this rock beneath him did not shift.

  “Perhaps,” Tienna said, “who we are may be as important as where we are.”

  Thimeon looked at her. It took a few seconds for the sounds that had come out of her mouth to form into distinct words and then into meaning in his head. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I know that every member of our company has played a vital role,” Tienna replied. “You have all sacrificed much, and offered much.” Her voice was quiet, and almost shy, and her eyes were fixed on Thimeon. Thimeon was aware of several bodies leaning forward intently as she continued, but he was mostly aware of her voice and eyes as she continued. “Yet the powers of the gifted may be more important than ever. It is obviously the Daegmons have been trying to destroy the gifts—to kill the gifted. Many have already perished. We know that now. The Daegmons were hunting us down.”

  “Now Cane is fallen, also,” Tienna continued. “His death may be the worst loss, for he had the greatest impact in our battles—not only weakening our enemy but protecting us from the terror that would have paralyzed us. Perhaps this sword you brought to us means little now. Yet we still have many of the gifted gathered together in one place at one time. We have Elynna’s gift of sensing the presence and thoughts of our enemy, and Noab who can read truth like words on a page, Cathros’ strength in battle, and my own health sense and gift of healing. Noaem’s power to speak with animals has saved us more than once. So did Breanga’s gift of shaping wood. Now we have Cathwain here also. I do not how of what use all these gifts can be, but they must mean something.”

  Thimeon realized now that in telling the story of his own company, he and Dhan had said nothing about Gaelim. “We have another of the gifted also,” he said. “Gaelim is a shaper of rocks.”

  Several heads turned in Gaelim’s direction. Thimeon looked at him again also, sitting beneath a torch looking embarrassed by the sudden attention. He looked like an ordinary gyurt herder of the highlands, and not somebody with a mystical ability to shape rock. Yet wasn’t that true of all the gifted. None of them looked different.

  “But to what end are all these powers?” Aram asked. “I do not disparage any of the gifted, but as Tienna has already said, Cane’s gifts were more valuable than all the others combined, save perhaps his brother Cathros.”

  Thimeon ignored this interruption. “So the gifted have now come together as Tienna has said. To what end? So that they may work as one to defeat our enemy. So that all of the rest of us can do what we can. Whether that means only defending the gifted, or whether there is some additional task that will fall to us, I don’t know. Whatever the case, it may be that those of us sitting here in this cavern—maybe also Terrid’s small company, a few of Braga’s folk, and the enclave at Gale Enebe—we may be the last few in this realm of Gondisle who still oppose the Daegmons.”

  “And so you have brought us all together,” Aram replied. “For what? Now the Daegmons can destroy all of the gifted with a single blow. You have done their work for them.”

  The sharpness in Aram’s voice caught Thimeon by surprise. He wanted to raise his voice and argue back. Yet he knew Aram’s words held truth. He took a deep breath, felt again the solidity of the rock, and answered. “This, too, I realize. Not until we met a short time ago, and I heard of the fall of Cane, did that thought dawn on me. It may be that I have led us all to ruin.”

  At this, several voices broke out at once. Some were in defense of Thimeon. Others agreed with Aram. Some wondered whether the situation was as bleak as it sounded, though it was hard to argue otherwise. This confusion lasted for several minutes before Thimeon quieted them down again. “I chose Illengond as the place to bring us together f
or two reasons. The first was simple. Elynna’s company was in the western highlands, and we were in the eastern highlands. Illengond was a central place to meet. Any place further south would likely have put us in the midst of an army from Citadel. And so I chose Mount Illengond.”

  “And the second reason?” asked Tienna.

  “The Mountain itself,” Thimeon replied. “In all the old stories, this has always been a place of power. In days of old, people came to worship the All-Maker on Mount Illengond. Prophets came to hear—”

  “Superstition,” Aram barked, cutting him off.

  Now some anger or frustration stirred. Thimeon glared back at Aram. “The Daegmons themselves are beings of superstition. Creatures from old wives’ tales. Shall we ignore them?”

  Aram opened his mouth as though to respond, but then closed it.

  Thimeon waited a minute. He took another deep breath. Another thought came. He reached into the pouch at his side and pulled out the ancient tome. “Even this book speaks of Illengond,” he said. “It hints of an age-old battle between Illengond to the north and Entain to the south—between the All-Maker and the Daegmon-Lord. It is this battle that we still fight today. And if we have any shred of hope at all, then our hope is in Mount Illengond and in help from the All-Maker. Compared to the might of Entain, and of the Daegmons, we are weak and powerless. And yet—” he paused a moment searching for words. “And yet the might of the Daegmons and even of the Daegmon-Lord itself is nothing compared with the All-Maker. However much less powerful we are than the Daegmons and the Daegmon-Lord who rules them, the Daegmon-Lord itself is infinitely less powerful than the All-Maker who dwells in this Mountain. That is what this ancient tome tells, me, and it is what I have come to believe.”