Elfhunter (24 page)

Gaelen had caught her breath, and she tightened her
grip on her sword-hilt. "I will not bandy words with such a
friendless monstrosity. Come on then, and let us finish this! I
know you have been toying with me. Taste of victory against me if
you can, and may I at least prove to be troublesome."

Without waiting for him to respond she flew at him,
blade flashing in the now-bright sunlight of late morning, taking
him off guard for just a moment. He still had not retrieved his
shield, and she managed to inflict a rather deep wound across the
back of his left hand, which bore no armor. It was a mistake, and
he drove her back, enraged, all thoughts of toying with her
forgotten. He slashed at her with such ferocity that she knew her
time had come. She could not stand against this—she found herself
thinking of Nelwyn and, oddly, of Rogond. Her strength spent, she
tripped and fell backward before the feet of her enemy, as he
raised his weapon to strike her from the world.

Her arm was shaking as she held her blade before her
face in what was surely a futile effort to protect herself. As she
did so, the brightly polished surface caught the light of the full
sun, reflecting it into Gorgon’s strange, pale eyes. To her
surprise, he flinched back, squinting and blinking, turning his
flat, ugly face away for a moment. So! He was vulnerable, at least,
to something. Taking advantage of his brief moment of distraction,
she crawled backward just as Rogond appeared before Gorgon, sword
in hand, looking a bit dazed, but still very much a force to be
reckoned with. Gorgon snarled and met Rogond’s blade with his
own.

Gorgon had underestimated Rogond’s skill and
determination, and for a moment it looked as though the Aridan
might actually prevail. But Rogond could not keep up the level of
strength necessary to hold off this enemy, and he soon flagged as
Gorgon, sensing weakness, pressed ever harder. Gaelen thought to
shoot at Gorgon’s eyes, though his helmet would make this
difficult, but she found she could no longer pull her bow, much
less hold it with the required steadiness. She dropped it in
frustration, picked up her short sword, and tried to distract her
enemy from Rogond, but Gorgon struck her against the ground so hard
that she did not get up again.

Rogond raised his blade for what he guessed might be
the last time, wavering on unsteady feet, breath whistling in his
throat. He had held off the enemy alone for several minutes, a feat
not often accomplished in all of Gorgon’s long years, but his
strength was spent at last. As Gorgon raised his weapon to strike,
a bright arrow flew out of nowhere to lodge under his right arm,
and he actually cried out in pain. Nelwyn, wan and shaking but
determined, had come up behind Rogond and now stood in his defense.
Gorgon gripped the shaft of the arrow and yanked it hard from his
flesh, grimacing, before casting it aside. He was still confident
that he would prevail, as the Aridan would give no further trouble,
and the golden-haired She-elf would be taken easily—she could
hardly even focus on him. "Back away from him, Dark Horror, or the
next one flies straight to your foul eyes," said Nelwyn, still
trying to distract Gorgon from finishing both of her friends.

In answer, Gorgon’s blade cut hard toward Rogond, who
found it all he could do to deflect the blow before the next one
came, aimed straight at his neck. He ducked under it, but his head
swam and he sank to the ground, fighting to remain conscious.
Nelwyn’s arrow struck Gorgon’s helmet harmlessly, and he rushed at
her intending to make an end of her. Nelwyn staggered back,
defenseless, as she had no blade.

At that moment, Gaelen appeared behind her cousin,
clutching Gorgon’s mirror-bright shield, aiming the reflected beam
of brilliant sunlight directly into his eyes. Gorgon roared with
pain and drew back, flinging his arm before his face. Gaelen
continued to focus the reflected light from the shield on him as he
turned about, trying in vain to escape it. This had never happened
to him in all his dark years! Fury welled within him—he could never
let the prophecy of Gelmyr prove true. He turned back to face his
enemies, left hand trying to shade his burning, streaming eyes, and
now beheld not three foes, but four. Galador stood with drawn
sword, a fierce light in his eyes, and at full strength.

Despite all expectation to the contrary, Gorgon felt
for the first time that he might not prevail this day. He engaged
Galador, and they fought for a few tense moments, as the Elf became
aware of the magnitude of the enemy he faced. Gorgon’s strength was
returning, and his confidence showed dangerous signs of renewing
itself. If that happened, Galador knew that they might likely all
be killed. He backed away for a moment, and addressed his foe:

"Now is your chance. Take your honor, if indeed you
have any, and live to defeat us another day. You cannot prevail
here."

"No Elf engages Gorgon Elfhunter and lives," said
Gorgon. "Your companions are all but dead from trying to defeat me.
As for yourself, you’re already living beyond your time. This fight
will not end until none of you draws breath." He looked quite
capable of making good on this threat, drawing himself up to his
full height. Without warning, he rushed at Galador who, like
Rogond, would not have the strength to hold him off for very
long.

"Gaelen! The shield!" cried Galador as the rocks rang
with the sound of clashing blades. Gaelen could no longer lift the
heavy shield by herself, and as she cried out in frustration,
Rogond’s strong hands gripped it. Together they tossed it to
Galador, who, to Gorgon’s horror, turned the bright sunlight upon
him. Gorgon staggered back, lashing out blindly, but his enemy
easily avoided him. This was not in his plan at all. He could not
prevail with that accursed fire burning his eyes. He had but one
choice now—to turn and flee.

Gorgon fought through his burning pain as he tried to
grasp the reality of his situation. Never before had he engaged an
enemy and left him standing, always he had made certain that the
odds were so overwhelmingly in his favor. But now, he must turn or
die. Later he would deal with this humiliation, of a magnitude that
he had not felt for a very long time.

At first backing up before Galador’s onslaught, he
finally turned and sprinted for the safety of the dark mountains.
Galador started after him, but he heard Rogond call out: "No! Do
not pursue him alone! He goes to ground, where the bright shield
will fail. Do not pursue him alone!"

Rogond was right. Gorgon had escaped, and they were
in no condition to follow him. He was so incredibly fast for one so
large! With one last look after his enemy, Galador turned and went
to see to his companions.

Galador found the three Elves and Rogond all lying
together among the stones. They were bloody, battered, and
exhausted. Gaelen and Nelwyn were both weeping quietly in the
realization of what might have happened. Rogond’s face was grim and
weary, and a few of his wounds were fairly deep. They would have to
be cleaned and dressed, as the flesh of men sometimes harbored
corruption if not properly tended. Nelwyn’s head was pounding, and
she felt very shaky and ill as she lay upon the ground. Gorgon’s
missile had struck her just over her left eyebrow, where a deep
indentation had appeared. Blood was flowing from her left ear as
well; she would have to be carried to Mountain-home. She moaned
miserably in Gaelen’s embrace.

Gaelen was not in much better condition. She was pale
and shaking, and she had taken several wounds. Though most were not
deep, it would be awhile before she pulled her bow again. What
Galador concluded when he assessed the condition of his friends was
that they were all in for a slow, painful journey.

Then there was the matter of Elethorn. Gorgon had cut
the cords behind both of his knees so that he could not stand and
had left him without water for nearly three days. He was bruised
and battered, lying unconscious as Galador tried to get him to take
some water. Rogond was so exhausted that he was not able to be of
much help. Galador gathered wood, built a fire, and set about the
task of comforting his friends. He kept ladling water down
Elethorn, wrapping him in a warm cloak and positioning him near the
fire.

Gaelen, Nelwyn, and Rogond lay senseless and
unmoving. Galador went to each in turn throughout the night,
tending them carefully until the dawn came.

He had never been so thankful that he had followed
his instincts. He had been well on the way to Mountain-home when
the nagging doubts as to the wisdom of leaving his companions
suddenly gave way to a feeling of dread. He was compelled to return
to them as quickly as he might, and a good thing, too. Had he
lingered in debate or chosen to remain on the path appointed, he
had no doubt that no living Elf or man would have been here to
greet him. He shuddered as he thought of his friends overpowered at
last by Gorgon, dying at his hands. Nelwyn lost! He could not have
borne it. He vowed never to leave her again.

Elethorn fretted and moaned as Galador soothed him
with gentle words. He could only imagine the horrors Elethorn had
witnessed. The other two scouts were undoubtedly lost, and Galador
would not waste time or energy in looking for their remains. If the
Elves of Mountain-home wished to recover what they could, they were
welcome. Galador didn’t really want to know the grisly details of
their fate.

Rogond awoke as dawn broke, feeling as though he
would never move again. He gazed at Gaelen’s inert form lying next
to him, disheveled and bloody, her pale, bruised face drawn with
anxiety. His heart was filled with both loathing of Gorgon and fear
of his return. Thank the stars Galador had returned, although
Rogond wished that he had not called Gaelen’s name aloud.

They needed to be on their way as quickly as they
could manage, lest Gorgon return and finish them. It would be so
easy, especially after nightfall. With sudden urgency, Rogond
roused Galador, who was dozing in the early light of dawn, and held
a brief parley. Then they began preparations to depart.

It was indeed a sorry procession making its way along
the rocky and difficult slopes toward Mountain-home. This beautiful
refuge, shielded by the mists of the Monadh-hin, was the hidden
realm of Lady Ordath. It was a fair place for all folk of good will
to gather, study and learn, and rest from the cares of the world
outside. Within its borders rose the renowned University known only
as "The Sanctuary".

Lady Ordath was widely acknowledged as the greatest
master of the Healing Arts in all the world, for though her mother
was of Elven-kind, her father was a powerful Asarla. He was the
mighty Shandor, silver-haired and with eyes like ice. He founded
the realm of Mountain-home with his beloved Liathwyn of the Èolar,
and Ordath was their child. She had inherited the strength and
ageless nature of the Elves, together with the magical abilities of
the Asari. Her power had grown very great, so that the people of
Mountain- home had little to fear. Because Ordath was descended of
both the Èolar and the Asari, she was devoted to learning and
knowing—the Sanctuary was unrivaled as a place of study. Because of
her vigilance, the way into Mountain-home was shown only to those
of good will and open mind.

Though Shandor and Liathwyn had gone, Ordath would
see that the realm they had founded was kept safe. Outside, the
mountains could rage as they would, but they dared not challenge
the power of the Lady.

As the Company struggled painfully toward their
destination, it looked as though the skills of Lady Ordath would be
sorely needed. Galador walked at the fore, carrying Nelwyn, who was
grievously hurt. Behind him went Gaelen and Rogond, bearing
Elethorn between them. Neither had strength in their arms; Gaelen’s
shoulders were torn, and Rogond had simply spent his strength to
the point that he would need time to recover. In addition, he had
taken several wounds and lost sufficient blood to further drain his
strength. As such, they had rigged a sling of Galador’s cloak and
some of their light cord, suspending Elethorn between them. Gaelen
bore her part across her chest, Rogond behind his shoulders. It was
not an efficient or a pleasant strategy, but the only one available
to them.

Elethorn was now conscious, and he lamented as he
beheld the pain of those who bore him, but he could not walk on his
own. When he suggested that they leave him behind, sending others
to return for him later, they dismissed the idea as absurd. Who
knew when Gorgon would decide to return by dark of night? He would
certainly kill Elethorn, who would be helpless against him. They
got very little enlightenment from Elethorn concerning Gorgon, for
the creature had revealed almost nothing of himself.

With each time they stopped to rest, it became more
and more difficult to rise again and continue. Though they had only
a few leagues left to travel, it would take at least one more day
at the rate they were going. Galador was by now very anxious.
Nelwyn needed the services of a competent healer, and soon. The
wound on her forehead was small, but deep, and Galador suspected
that her skull was cracked, as she kept bleeding from her left ear.
Her eyes appeared to sink into dark purple wells, and she was
rarely conscious. When she did manage to rouse herself, she
muttered quietly in words that made no sense at all.

Galador was right to be concerned, for Nelwyn had
taken deadly hurt. Her chances grew less with each passing hour.
Frustrated, he called back to his friends, whose pace had slowed
such that they had fallen way behind again. "Why do you tarry? We
must make haste, for Nelwyn’s sake, as she is in grave need. Can
you not come faster?"

Gaelen and Rogond had spent much of the last hour
chastising one another for every misstep that delayed them or threw
them off balance. Elethorn tried to be helpful, but there really
was nothing he could do. They were all exhausted, especially
Rogond, who felt that his feet were literally constructed of lead.
Gaelen was in a significant amount of pain and worn out. Neither
was in the mood to be admonished by Galador, though they understood
his urgency.