G. Kelly - Sword and Circle

Allazar shrugged. “I do not know, in truth. It is rumoured that such knowledge is contained deep in the bowels of the Hallencloister, and fat chance do any of us have of getting in there now. Not that it matters, with Salaman Goth destroyed and such others who might yet live now far to the west of the Eramak. For now, we must bring our news to the Council at Shiyanath.”

The wizard leaned forward, lamplight sparkling in his eyes.

“The importance of Jaxon’s story is in the picture he paints of the misery now inflicted on the Empire by wizards possessed of aquamire and using it for their own ends. Such a fate could still befall our lands if the dark armies of the north succeed in taking one of the gentler lands. Traitors there may well be amongst the brethren, but none are yet fuelled by aquamire and flapping around the skies on the backs of Graken. And therein lays the difference between our lands and the empire.”

Elayeen was stunned. “You think the Empire has already been conquered by Morloch?”

“In all but name, perhaps yes, and for as long as his minions fear him. From what Jaxon has described I would say that the provinces once ruled by powerful men and worked by slaves are now in Morloch’s hands, the Tals slaves themselves to dark wizards who by means of aquamire hold the lands in thrall. And a land in thrall is a land in which a plentiful supply of aquamire can be had, as Morloch discovered in the north millennia ago. The people in the provinces are penned by guardstones patrolled by creatures made by aquamire, penned as sheep in a coral, leaving the Emperor, it seems, hiding behind his walls shivering in the dark in spite of all his praetorians. That’s assuming the Emperor yet lives, and there are none in our lands who would know for sure, I think.

“It would not take many dark wizards with even a fraction of the power of a Salaman Goth to cow a great many people, lady Elayeen. Remember how the southlands were almost brought to their knees by the Ramoth, and that enemy employed no great powers beyond brawn and steel to spread fear far and wide. It is perhaps why Morloch’s strategy was so different between east and west. Slaves need handling with different gloves than a free people.”

“And having been kicked in the Teeth, Allazar, we can expect Morloch now to change his gloves?”

“Alas, Longsword, yes. Between the armies of the north and the darkening to the west, I fear the nature of the conflict with Morloch will change in ways we cannot yet imagine.”

“Thus the circles,” Elayeen said, a little sadly, though there was now no hint of sorrow for herself.

“Thus the circles,” Allazar agreed. “Tomorrow we begin our journey to Jarn, and thence to Elvendere. My friends, this may be the last night you both have the time and the opportunity to be together for some days to come. Who knows what awaits us on the road. I shall bid you good night, and retire early, for I have much to think about now that my head is my own once more.”

“Good night, Allazar.” Gawain said quietly.

“Good night.” Elayeen added, watching the bright shape of the wizard as he crossed the bar to disappear into his room.

“Come, miheth,” Gawain said softly. “Let’s take the wizard’s advice.”

“Yes.”

“Did I tell you that you were breathtaking today?”

“Yes. But I think I can manage to be breathtaking again before the dawn.”

“The road to Jarn runs from here through the southern woodlands of Callodon,” Allazar explained to the Gorian refugees as they gathered by the wagons at the wells next morning. “It’s about, oh, a week’s ride or thereabouts, perhaps a little longer since we’re in no desperate hurry.”

“Will there be food and water?” a voice in the throng asked.

“I’m sure there’ll be good hunting along the way, and if nothing else, we can all look forward to some decent rabbit stew, of that I’m certain.” Allazar smiled across their heads at Gawain who stood quietly listening with Elayeen. “We also have the remains of our supplies here in the wagons as you can see. There’s room enough for the ladies in your party to travel in comfort, with a couple of spaces for the less stout amongst you.”

“We’ll take it in turns,” Jaxon announced, “Turn and turn about when we pause to water the horses,” and there were nods of agreement.

The day had dawned clear and cool, but the sea breezes had begun swirling and the wind seemed to be swinging slowly to the east, threatening a blustery afternoon if not a wet one to come. Gawain turned away from the crowd to check his pack and saddle, and then Elayeen’s, leaving Allazar and Jaxon to prepare the Gorians for travel. All around was bustle, quiet and determined and well-organised, the Callodon military contingent striking camp with practiced ease.

Elayeen stood holding her bow, her hands clasped about the weapon resting lightly on her right boot, broken fingers sticking out uncomfortably.

“You know, miheth, they’ve never seen an elfin before. You could sling the bow over your back and still be breathtaking. At least it wouldn’t strain your poor fingers.”

She smiled and her head swivelled towards Gawain. The way she looked straight forward and moved her head was still a little unsettling, made even more so by her near-invisible pupils. Even Gawain, with all his love for her, now found something a little unnerving in her steady gaze, something penetrating, which he felt hadn’t been there yesterday.

“My poor fingers received attention from Healer Turlock this morning, miheth. Everything else received attention from you last night.”

“Elayeen!” Gawain gasped in mock astonishment, emphasising the three syllables of her name, “By the Teeth, girl, have you no shame?”

She giggled happily. “None. Besides, there are none close enough to hear us.”

Gawain’s pulse quickened and he stared up at her standing on the boardwalk while he tightened the straps holding her cloak to the back of her saddle. “Is your sight clearer this morning then?”

Elayeen nodded. “I can see with greater detail now. Hands have fingers and are no longer simple blobs. Heads have their proper shape too now. Gingerbread men are becoming people of light and shade.”

Gawain held up his right hand, as if in greeting, and waggled his fingers. To his delight, Elayeen laughed. “Stop it, G’wain, people will think you are mad! Or worse, they will think you are taking advantage of your poor blind wife, with her poor broken fingers.”

At once, he snapped his hand down to his side and hurriedly glanced around. Then he chuckled, and after a final check of Elayeen’s packs and saddle, he sighed and climbed the step to stand beside her again, watching the bustle around them.

“If I ask you a question, do you promise not to laugh at me?” he asked quietly.

“No.”

He chuckled again. “You’re impossible.”

“I prefer breathtaking, given a choice.” Elayeen smiled happily. “But what is the question G’wain? I’ll try not to laugh.”

“Well, I suppose that’ll have to do. I was just wondering, with you being able to see as you do, the light inside people?”

“Yes?”

“Can you see in the dark? I mean, could you see me, last night?”

Elayeen burst out laughing and then hastily covered her mouth, blushing furiously and turning her back to the throng.

“What? I mean it, why, what’s so funny?” Gawain protested dumbfounded.

“And you speak to me of shame!” she choked, desperately trying to stifle her laughter and keep hold of her bow at the same time. “G’wain you’re priceless!”

Gawain frowned, utterly confused, and then the penny dropped. “Not like that! I didn’t mean like that! I meant could you see someone in the dark, that’s what I meant! Shush! People are starting to look!”