The Eye of the Hunter (19 page)

The Boreal Sea was their realm, the Northern Ocean, too, and they sailed with Aravan across these waters, trading, raiding, and exploring.

West they sailed as well, to the then new lands beyond the blue known sea. Islands of fire and lush lands green unfolded on their long, long voyages. New shores they found and traded for furs with strange-speaking Men, clannish but unaggressive. Too, it was said by the Dragonship crews that Aravan traded with
others
—a tiny folk, a wee folk, seen riding foxes among white birches in silver moonlight. Whether or not these tales were true. Aravan did not say, yet he did wear a strange blue stone on a leather thong round his neck thereafter, saying only that it was a gift from a Hidden One.

It was in Fjordland during the long cold winter that Aravan took up the art of shipbuilding, spending a century or so learning the crafting of longships. When he had mastered the ways of the Dragonships, Aravan set out in a small sailboat, plying along the coastal waters to the west and south: down the shores of Jord and Gron and Rian he fared, and around Leut on the Boreal Sea, stopping in ports along the way, learning the shipwright arts each city and yard had to offer. Into Weston Ocean waters he sailed, turning southerly: along Thol and Jute and Wellen, along Gelen and Gothon and Tugal as well.

And in all these Lands he learned what each had to offer about ships of the sea.

As he sailed away from each, he left behind fast friends as well as longing hearts, for he was well liked, especially by the ladies, representing to them as he did a strange and exotic male, full of mystery and excitement and hidden danger. Lithe and slender and handsome, he was—some would say beautiful—with his black, black hair and deep blue eyes and high cheekbones. Standing nearly six foot high, he was tall for an Elf, and he had a voice of silver. And his long-fingered hands were made for caressing, as many a Woman discovered, ever desiring more. At times, however, with one last kiss and a soft word, he would make a hasty departure, exiting the way he had arrived, out through a window
or down from a balcony, avoiding hostile confrontations with husbands or brothers or the like. His dalliances were many, his loves few, yet none of the ladies involved begrudged him his pleasure—or theirs—and no issue came of his amorous adventures, for matings between Humankind and Elvenkind bear no fruit.

Among the Men he was popular as well, joining them in their cups and labors. Too, he went sporting with them—not only afield with bow and hound, but also among the back streets and taverns of the towns.

Yet always he became restless, and eventually some dawn would find him down at the docks slipping away, sailing outward on the tide.

And gradually he fared back to warmer climes, plying alongside the shores of Vancha and Hoven and Jugo, until he once more was in Arbalin there in the Avagon Sea. In the Arbalina shipyards, he studied their ways, too, mastering that craft as well. Centuries had passed, five or six or more—who can say? for none kept count of them, especially not the Elf, for to him what mattered time?

At last, aided by Drimmen artisans, Aravan set about building a ship of his own, incorporating all he had learned of the craft. Strange timbers he chose, of teak and blackwood and yew, of oak and larch and cypress, of ash and ebony, and of woods unseen until then, red woods and yellows and whites, and black woods as well as rich browns; and all were treated with oils most precious and rare. Slowly the ship formed, keel, ribs, strakes, wales, decking, cabins; a silvery auger was used to drill holes, and all wooden parts were carefully oiled and pegged together, and neither nailed nor screwed; and caulking was done with a substance most strange, never before seen, or since. Metal alloys from Dwarven forges were shaped into chains and an anchor, and the same alloy was used to make the cleats and other metal parts. And lo! below the waterline the hull was coated with a rare paint into which
Starsilver
had been mixed. Spidery soft ropes of various gauges formed the rigging, easy upon the hand and strong beyond measure. And as it was assembled, a docksman remarked that the ship would last a thousand years, and Aravan and his Drimmen shipwrights laughed and shook their heads, and one Drimm said, “Nay, Man, not a mere ten centuries, but more, much more.”

At last it was finished and ready for sea. Neither sterncastle
nor fo’c’s’le did the hull bear, but instead it was long and low and slim and rigged for speed. Three-masted, with lofty silken sails, square and triangular both, this was a ship meant to ride the wind as no ship had done before. The
Elvenship
, Men called her, but she was christened
Eroean
, an Elven word whose meaning is obscure, though it is thought to be related to the wind.

Aravan took on a mixed crew of Humans and Drimma, and two or three Waerlinga, and set sail.

They say he plied all the seas, learning their ever changing ways. It is also said that he sailed the entire world, visiting strange Lands afar, anchoring at times for years, for centuries say some, exploring—for he had the time to do so, being of Elvenkind. Yet it is also said that he oft returned to Arbalin releasing old crew, taking on new, whenever there was a need Too, it is certain that he brought back peculiar and wonderful cargo, unseen heretofore: shell necklaces, unknown gems bolts of silken cloth, and the like; exotic birds, peculiar animals, and visitors from far away; fruits and seeds and beans and grain, spices, teas; jades, ivories, opalescent gems, emeralds, gold and silver; all these and more did the
Eroean
carry from distant Lands to the insatiable markets of Arbalin.

And there were maps and maps of the world afar, of continents and islands alike, to the west and south and east and north and all points in between, some wild and savage, others with Nations of their own. How he kept from sailing off the rim of the world none could say, yet he managed to remain alive, bringing ship and crew back to port time and again.

When in port, Aravan’s crew or Human sailors and Drimmen warriors and Waerlinga scouts would tell of adventures beyond the wildest dreams; of temples and tribes and deadly creatures; of opulent cities and bejewelled potentates and Women and other females of surpassing beauty; of dark jungles and frozen wastes and mountains disappearing into the clouds; of rivers without end and deserts dire and isles like jewels in the sea; of oceans and oceans, boiling and frigid, hideous monsters within; of enchantments and glamours and creatures rare; of abandoned cities peopled by undead beings and living statues and worse; all these and more did they tell, to the delight and awe of the listeners. Around the entire world, they claimed, had sailed the
Eroean
, but who can believe such? Surely they exaggerated in this boast, as well as in all other of their unbridled imaginings.

That the
Eroean
was swift there is no doubt, for she showed her fantail to many a merchant and to many a pirate as well, all sails set to, the braw ship heeling over in a spanking breeze, Aravan at the wheel laughing, the sleek vessel cleaving the waters, leaving a foaming wake aft, for she was an Elvenboat—enchanted, claimed many—the likes of which had never before been seen, nor since, either.

Two thousand years or three did Aravan fare the world in his Elvenship. Yet of a sudden he stopped, and the
Eroean
disappeared from the waters of the world. Why? It is not told, though some claim that it was a lost love that caused Aravan to yield up the oceans, while others claimed that the ship was drowned in a maelstrom and Aravan would sail no other. Still others claimed that the
Eroean
was yet at sea, her rigging burning with green witch fire, sailing ever sailing, haunted by a ghostly crew. Regardless whether one or the other or another of these tales is true, or something entirely different, Aravan left the sea and came unto Darda Erynian to live among Elvenkind.

But now his ready smile was more subdued, and a tormented look dwelled deep within his eyes.

And he bore with him a crystal spear.

* * *

Centuries passed, and centuries more, and Aravan learned the ways of woodcraft and renewed his acquaintance with horses and riding. Too, he cultivated crops, and mastered tanning and leather working. Hawking he studied, learning of raptors and of their training—from swift kestrel to golden-eyed hawk to soaring eagle, as well as owls—and though he did not presume that any of these lords of the air would ever be tamed, still he used these savage birds to do his bidding—hunting, fishing, espying game and movement, standing watch. He widened his sphere of study to include other bird-kind—ebon ravens and black crows, bright songbirds, brown woodland thrushes, scintillant hummingbirds, and other birds grey and brown and raucous and timid and yellow and red and black and blue and green and white, birds gaudy and dull and small and large, birds of the sea and forests and fens and fields—and he learned their habits and manner of living and mastered their calls; he studied their structure and the types and shapes of feathers and the patterns of wings, and he deduced much concerning flight and flying.

All this and more did Aravan take up while living among
the Elves of Darda Erynian. Seasons passed uncounted, millennia, yet Aravan was just beginning, the Elf but a step or two along an endless path.

* * *

War came, the Great War, and Aravan joined forces with other Elvenkind And they stood athwart harm’s way and opposed the cruel
Spaunen
running roughshod o’er Mithgar.

It was during the War that Aravan became comrade to Galarun, son of Coron Eiron, Elfking on Mithgar. And Eiron sent his son on a mission unto the forges of the Mages, there below Black Mountain in Xian. To bring back a silver sword was the charge of Galarun’s Company—an argent blade named the Dawn Sword, a weapon which perhaps could slay the High Vûlk, Gyphon Himself. Galarun was to carry the blade unto Darda Galion, for there in the Eldwood was the chosen place to cross over to Adonar, bearing it where it would be needed: into the very camp of the Elven forces upon the High World.

Long was the journey of Galarun and Aravan and company to the distant Land of Xian, and they were opposed by many. It was as if the foe knew of their mission and sought to bar the way. Twice did Aravan save the life of Galarun, the crystal spear a deadly weapon,
burning
foe where it pierced, fuming and sizzling and charring.

Unto Black Mountain they came at last, following the broad paved road to the wide gates there embedded in the ebon stone. And only Galarun entered, while Aravan and the company remained without, champing at the bit, fretting, for they knew not what transpired within. Yet at last Galarun emerged, shaken by what he had seen, and in his grasp was the silver sword. Grim was the face of Galarun, as if he knew of a dire fate awaiting, yet up he mounted on his horse and rode away in silence.

They had set forth from Darda Galion some four months past, in early spring, riding easterly to come to Xian; and four more months would it take to return, for the journey was long, very long, and would be made more so by foe along the way. Nevertheless they set out for Darda Galion, faring westerly through Xian and Aralan, across Khal to Garia and into Riamon. And every step along the way was fraught with danger,
Spaunen
lying in wait. At times they fled the enemy, while at other times they stood and fought, and slowly their ranks dwindled as comrades fell among
them. Yet always did they bear the sword westerly, ever westerly, and Galarun would let no other touch it, not even his boon companion, Aravan. Along the Landover Road they fared, and through the long ring of the Rimmen Mountains, emerging in Darda Erynian, where they were given respite from the harassing pursuit. A day they spent resting but no more, for their mission was urgent, and they rode away upon the following morn. West they fared, crossing [the mighty River Argon to come into the wide wolds ’tween river and mountain, where they turned south for Darda Galien, the Grimwalls on their right, the Argon to their left.

Three days they rode down the wold, coming unto the Dalgor Marches, where they were joined by a company of Elven warriors patrolling the fens. Here it was that Aravan first met Riatha and Talar, riding among that company.

The next dawn, into the fens they rode, horses splashing through reeds and water, mire sucking at hooves, the way slow and shallow, arduous but fordable, unlike the swift, deep waters of the Dalgor River upstream flowing down from the high Grimwalls to the west. Deep into the watery lowland they fared, at times dismounting and wading, giving the horses respite.

It was near the noontide that late fall day when Aravan warned Galarun that the blue stone on the thong grew chill, and so the warning went out to all that danger was nigh. On they rode and a pale Sun shone overhead, and one of the outriders called unto the main body. At a nod from Galarun, Aravan rode out to see what was amiss. He came upon the rider, Eryndar, and the Elf pointed eastward. From the direction of the Argon, rolling through the fen a grey wall rushing came fog, flowing over them in a thick wave, obscuring all in its wake, and Aravan and Eryndar could but barely see one another less than an arm’s span away. And from behind there sounded the clash and clangor and shout of combat.

“To me! To me!”
came Galarun’s call, muffled and distant in the fog in the Dalgor Fens, confusing to mind and ear.

Though Aravan could not see, he spurred his horse to come to his comrades’ aid, riding to the sounds of steel on feel, though they, too, were muted and remote and seemed to echo where no echoes should have been. He charged into a deep slough, the horse foundering, Aravan nearly losing his seat. And up from out of the water rose an enormous
dark shape, and a webbed hand struck at him, claws sweeping past his face as the horse screamed and reared, the Elf ducking aside from the blow.
“Krystallopýr,”
whispered Aravan, Truenaming the spear. He thrust the weapon into the half-seen
thing
looming above him; and a hideous yawl split the air as the blade burned and sizzled in cold flesh. With a huge splash the creature was gone, back into the mire.