Elfhunter (74 page)

Gaelen came alive and drew her short sword just as
Gorgon sprang upon her. She leaped from under his taut, powerful
body just in time, as he roared in frustration at having missed
her. She yelled back at him in a voice charged with ferocity.

"Dark Horror! You cannot evade our vengeance! I have
had all of you that I intend to bear, and your hour is NOW!" She
flew at him, remembering Amandir’s plea that he not escape his
doom.

They fought for several minutes, each barely managing
to thwart the other, Gorgon slashing at Gaelen with powerful
strokes while she darted in and out, feinting and ducking. She was
a superb in-fighter, and Gorgon soon grew weary of evading her; it
was like trying to swat a very annoying and potentially lethal fly.
He backed off for a moment, refocusing and collecting himself,
allowing Gaelen a much- needed rest. She still grasped Fima’s axe
in her left hand, and Gorgon recognized it. He smiled his normal,
malicious smile.

"The dwarf is dead, isn’t he? Otherwise you would not
have his axe. I noticed you practicing with it; you have acquired
some skill considering who and what you are. I thought about
killing him in Cós-domhain, and I could easily have done so, but I
was satiated. The Aridan provided plenty of sport, though he
whimpered at the end like a child."

Gaelen knew that Gorgon was trying to goad her into
attacking before she was rested, and she smiled back at him. "I
know the truth of Belegund and his valor, you pathetic creature! I
loved Fima as a cherished friend, but I will not allow myself to
grieve for him until you are dead. You think I am so easily gulled
into attacking before I am ready. Why, you must think me as easily
deceived as yourself! Which," she added, noting the dark look on
his face, "I am not."

She might not have chosen those words had she the
time to consider the likely consequence of them. Gorgon would not
stand to be insulted by one such as Gaelen! The fact that her words
were true, that he
had
been deceived, angered him all the
more.

"Ready or not, your doom is at hand. Pathetic, am I?
Tell me, Gaelen, do you still dream of Ri-Elathan? Was his death at
the hands of the Black Flame difficult for you to bear? Is that why
you weep when you are alone? Not so handsome at the end, I’ll
warrant. He went up like a torch… did you know it? He screamed even
as his skin blackened and his throat filled with fire. Dream of
that, if you will!" The sound of her own name issuing from Gorgon’s
lips in his hateful voice was loathsome enough to Gaelen, but at
the mention of Ri-Elathan she could keep still no longer. She
gripped Fima’s axe and her own blade tightly, knowing that despite
her resolve, she would never prevail against this terrible foe, not
if she faced him alone.

As Gaelen prepared for a final stand against her
enemy, Rogond urged Eros down the precarious descent into the dark
ravine. Every so often a flash of lightning would illuminate the
path before him, and he almost wished that it had not, for it might
have been better for his nerves if he had not seen the nearly
impossible difficulty of it. He would trust to Eros who, true to
his name, flowed like water over the most treacherous terrain.
Rogond’s worthy mount had never failed him, yet they came to a
place in the path where Eros simply would not move forward. Rogond
urged him, but the powerful horse shifted anxiously, unwilling to
proceed.

The next flash of lightning revealed the cause; a
small tree had come uprooted above them and taken part of the path
into the valley, bringing a number of large boulders with it. These
now blocked the path, looming nearly five feet in height. The width
of the pile was unknown.

Rogond could not dismount from Eros to inspect it, as
the path was too narrow. There was a precipitous drop on the right,
and a sheer face covered with loose gravel on the left. They could
not go around. It was too loose and unsteady for Rogond to climb on
his own. Besides, if he abandoned Eros he would never make it to
the ravine floor in time to aid Gaelen. He faced a difficult
choice: he could carefully turn Eros about and find another way
down, which would take considerable time, or he could leap the
obstacle and pray that there was a reasonable place to land on the
other side. The ring of clashing blades in the valley below decided
him. He leaned forward and spoke to Eros.

"My friend, always have you borne me safely, though
the way is treacherous. I ask you now to trust in me, for we must
surmount this hurdle, though neither of us would deem it wise."

Eros shook his head from side to side, his long mane
and forelock sodden with rain. He backed obediently and carefully
up the path until he stood far enough from the obstacle that he
could gain speed in approaching it. Rogond reassured him, patting
Eros’ neck, though he knew what he asked.

"Please, Eros, Gaelen is in need and we have no time.
Fly now, fly for her!"

Eros shot forward, his powerful hindquarters engaging
as he flew down toward the looming pile of boulders. Rogond urged
him, yelling a battle cry; in truth he was trying to maintain his
own courage. Eros checked back only once at the last, but he
trusted Rogond, and taking one more powerful stride, he launched
his golden body into the air with a grunt of effort, leaping into
the dark and the rain. Rogond clung hard to Eros’ wet, black mane,
trying not to unbalance him, but as they cleared the crest of the
stone-pile his heart sank, for the path before them no longer
existed for perhaps twenty feet. He knew that Eros would never be
able to make such a distance, and that the fall into the ravine
would probably kill them both.

"Oh, Eros…sorry…" was all that he had the time to
say.

Below, in the dark deeps of the ravine, Gaelen heard
Rogond’s battle cry as she strove against her mighty foe. Gorgon
heard Gelmyr’s laughter echoing inside his mind as he swung at her.
She was proving more difficult than he had anticipated, and the
last thing he needed was that dead Elf distracting him.

Isn’t Wrothgar going to be pleased when He finds out
that His forces have been obliterated, and you just walked right
into the trap! Perhaps you can take Amandir’s head and pass it off
as Magra’s! Ha! And now, you are having trouble with the lowly
Gaelen of Greatwood. You cannot even kill a Wood-elf! Did you hear
that cry? It sounded like the Tuathan. You could not kill either of
them the last time…and now you shall have another chance at the
same failure. So happy to remind you of it. Good hunting,
Elfhunter. Ha!

Gorgon broke apart from Gaelen for another few
moments, as each took stock of the other. Gaelen’s left sleeve was
red with blood, and she was shaky and weak. She had managed to
inflict a deep wound under Gorgon’s left arm, as she had done
before, but his armor had served him well, and he was still in fair
fighting form. Gorgon’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth quirked in a
slight smile. It would not be long now before the mirror would be
useless. How had the She-elf discovered it? He supposed he would
never know, for she rose to her feet with difficulty, and he noted
that Fima’s heavy axe shook in her hand.

Gaelen hoped that Rogond would arrive soon, as she
had very little strength remaining. She felt a surge of pride as
she looked upon Gorgon; she had done well to weaken him to this
point, and Rogond might well be able to finish him now. The evil
creature looked a bit vague and distracted, as though hearing
things that weren’t there. Gaelen, of course, could not hear the
voice of Gelmyr tormenting him. But that did not make it any less
real to Gorgon, who grimaced slightly and shook his head, as though
trying to banish the scornful laughter that still rang in his ears
and haunted his thoughts.

Gaelen took a deep breath, grimacing as her chest
expanded, for her ribs were badly bruised. She had only to keep him
here long enough for Rogond to arrive.
Hurry, my friend Thaylon,
if you would make
my death have meaning
, she thought,
unaware that Rogond had taken a terrible risk to aid her, and was
now facing death himself.

Rogond clung tightly to Eros’ black mane as they flew
over the huge pile of boulders toward a landing that wasn’t there.
The horse would surely panic and try to make the landing, but even
if he could extend his front feet far enough, the rest would fall,
and he would cartwheel backward on top of his rider. Rogond wanted
to close his eyes then, but he did not, as he still held some faith
in his mount and needed to be aware so that he might aid Eros as
far as he could.

Eros and Rogond were, in fact, very much alike. They
shared a practical nature, a tendency to view a situation
rationally and not panic. This quality was indispensable in battle,
or in such situations as the one they now faced. Eros knew that he
could not successfully reach the remnant of the path, and he
decided to make the most of it. He saw more clearly in the dark
than did Rogond. The ravine was not vertical, there was some slope
to it, but it was loose and rocky. It would be nearly impossible to
negotiate at any speed, but Eros had no choice. As he hurtled down
toward the ravine floor, he dropped his hindquarters toward the
steep, rocky slope, causing Rogond to grab his neck. He looked like
an eagle about to land.

Hang on, tall man
, thought Eros as his hind
feet hit the slope, catapulting him forward and slamming his
forefeet into the ground. Rogond was flipped handily over his head,
still clinging to the horse’s neck. It took everything they had to
stay upright, but if they did not do so, they would meet with a
very unpleasant end.

Eros squealed with effort as he put all his strength
into bracing his mighty hindquarters while trying to remain
balanced with his forelegs. The rocks and loose gravel tore the
skin from his hind legs as Rogond clung to him, hanging before
Eros’ chest, his legs thrown back beneath the horse’s belly. Eros
sat down on his hindquarters, sliding uncontrollably for a few
seconds, and then launched himself down the slope, his flinty
hooves striking sparks in the darkness, trying to keep from going
end-over-end.

Rogond’s feet hit the gravel, and he swung onto Eros’
back, trying to help him keep his balance. It was a frantic,
reckless nightmare of a descent, but Eros managed somehow to avoid
the large stones, pounding down the gravelly, nearly vertical
surface, lunging and catching himself just in time as Rogond
struggled to stay aboard. Then the slope gentled, the great horse
slowed, and it was over.

Eros stood, panting and trembling, sweat running from
his flanks. He had injured both of his back legs in the descent;
they were raw and bleeding, and would be forever scarred. His left
foreleg had taken a bad strain and would bear no weight; Eros would
go no farther. Rogond wept as he patted his friend, but he had no
time to tend him. Gaelen fought with a monster in this darkness,
and he needed to ensure that the sacrifice of his brave, able mount
had not been in vain. Taking his weapons, he ran toward the west,
where once again the sound of clashing blades could be heard, yet
they were slower than before.

Gorgon towered over Gaelen, who prepared herself for
the killing blow that would surely come as she lay now before him.
Her strength was spent, and Gorgon knew it. Yet he hesitated,
though his hatred for her still burned. He needed to ask something
of her, and to her surprise he sank to his knees beside her, though
he kept enough distance that she could not strike at him.

"How did you learn of my mirror, Elf of Greatwood?
Tell me, and I will take away your pain."

Gaelen grimaced and drew herself up slowly from the
ground, now kneeling with her right arm holding her bruised ribs,
and looked at him in wonderment. He actually expected her to engage
in conversation now, upon the hour of her death? Yet she answered
him, for by doing so she gained time for Rogond to reach them.

"Many had a hand in the knowledge. You underestimated
the skills of your enemies. There are so many things in this world
that you will never know, in your dark solitude. I have no time now
to explain them, for my strength wanes and I shall soon go to my
fate. Yet I will not be alone, even then."

Gorgon was taken by a sudden, undeniable curiosity,
and his left hand crept into the leather pouch at his side,
hesitating for just a moment. What would it be like to see himself
through her eyes? He had never been this close to her while holding
the mirror. As much hatred as she held for him, to see himself
though Gaelen was tantalizing. A small voice in the back of his
mind cautioned him—it would be best to simply kill her and make his
escape, and not toy with her. Yet he could not resist, for the
ability the mirror gave to him had become almost addictive, and in
his heart he did not wish for it to end with the death of
Gaelen.

His desire overcame his reason, and he clutched the
golden disc tightly in his left hand. The familiar pain assailed
him, and even Gaelen drew a sharp breath and swayed as a wave of
dizziness threatened to send her into darkness. Her vision swam for
a moment; she had never been this close to the mirror before.
Gorgon’s vision came slowly back into focus as both he and Gaelen
shook off the initial wave of pain and bewilderment.

"
Look at me, Elf!
" he shouted at her, and she
obliged him, turning and looking into his eager face.

What Gorgon saw then would remain in his mind for the
remainder of his days. Gaelen also was affected by it, for
something passed between them as they knelt side by side in the
rain. She felt, for the first time, the violence and pathos of his
life, and he felt the strength and purity of her spirit, and they
knew that, but for different circumstances, they might each have
shared the fate of the other.