The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor (16 page)

"What is this magic?" Yindraken snarled.

The two beasts fighting Malander met a
similar death, falling in fiery pieces to the base of the hill. Ash
and smoke swirled all about Gildan and Malander, who watched
Yindraken sink to his knees in disbelief. The wolf-lord sensed that
defeat was near, though he could not accept it.

"Randor!" Gildan spoke. "Surely it is his
power that has done this." Striding before the fallen leader of the
Mazazuken, he placed his blade to the ground, signifying the end.
"Victory was never yours."

"What has happened?" Yindraken was confused.
He looked to the heavens and searched for the foundations of the
magic. "Give me the reason!" he pleaded.

"Withdraw your forces, beast," Gildan
replied, gloating in the knowledge that the advantage was his
alone. Yindraken's once proud and upright form was now stooped and
shivering in pain. "The fires of heaven will show no mercy on your
wretched being if you do not comply with my demands!"

"Never!" was the wolf-lord's answer. "I will
keep my dignity!"

Impatient, Gildan raised his sword. "Then
die."

* * *

In the camp, Sir Geil stood close to his two
companions, confronting the three wolves. No sudden movements came
from either side, and no words were exchanged--only menacing
glares. Geil did not understand why the Mazazuken held back, for he
had never encountered a werewolf that did not charge the moment it
sensed an advantage.

Muron was baffled as well but stood ready
beside his protector. Lorn was unable to focus, unmanned by worry
over Seth, who lay in the mud not far away--or so he thought. None
had seen Seth slip away to obtain Randor's help. The jewel-hilted
dirk shook in his small hands, giving the Mazazuken a clear message
of who was weakest in this lot.

"Why aren't they attacking?" asked Muron.

"It bothers me, as well," Geil replied
smoothly. "I grow weary of waiting." He spun his blade around in a
flashy display and continued, "Permission to proceed?"

"Are you mad, Sir Knight?" Lorn asked,
regretting his words at once, not knowing what had come over him.
Geil looked angrily back at him, annoyed at hearing such words from
a useless, frightened dwarf.

"Silence yourself, fool!" Geil demanded. "Do
as I say!"

"Yes…of course, sir," Lorn replied politely.
"I am sorry…I will do my best."

"Say no more." Geil turned to the young
prince and asked, "Are you ready?"

"As much as one can be," he answered with a
gulp. "I trust your judgment, friend." He had great faith in the
high knight. For all Muron knew, the Mazazuken were merely waiting
for more of their kind to arrive.

"Ne lar mon xentol!"
Geil spoke.

"Fiegor!"
came
the unison response from all three.

"They will not surrender," Geil translated.
Gripping his sword tighter, he said, "Then you will see your end
here!" And with that, Geil bolted forward and charged the enemy.
Three seconds passed before Muron and Lorn realized what was
happening, and followed their leader, prepared for the worst.

The three Mazazuken stood tall on their hind
legs and awaited their victims, but before they could react, Geil's
terrible sword was upon them, cleaving completely through the first
two. Then, with an airborne spinning slash, he decapitated the
final beast. Fountains of dark blood gushed in all directions,
drenching the ground where the three werewolves fell in pieces
before their destroyer. Muron and Lorn, finally arriving at Geil's
side, were astonished at the swiftness of the killing. Lorn turned
away and covered his mouth, his stomach overcome by the gore.

"I have never seen you so fierce, Sir Geil,"
Muron said, shocked by the carnage. Looking a little crazed, the
elf-knight stared down at his blooded sword. Though the enemies
were defeated, Geil still desired more Mazazuken blood, knowing
that others were somewhere about.

"Madness is given the glory, my lord," Geil
said at last. The blood dripped from his sword to form a little
puddle at his feet. The knight licked the corner of his mouth as
the blood of the Mazazuken dripped down his face. It tasted salty
and seemed to increase his stamina. Neither of his companions saw
him do this, it being a guilty pleasure he indulged when given the
chance. Rather than clean himself of the splattered gore, he left
it as it was, as a warning to others who would cross his path. "Go
back to the fire, you two," Geil said. As Lorn and Muron turned
around and approached the fire, Geil sniffed the air, which was
filled with the stench of death.

From the shadows behind Geil came yet another
Mazazuken, charging inward on all fours. Drawing near the
elf-knight's back, the creature jumped forward, but Geil avoided
its attack by dropping to a knee and rolling sideways.

The werewolf gathered its assault, leaping
onto a large tree and springing away towards Geil once again. Geil
stood upright, and as the werewolf scratched the air with its
claws, the elf retreated, swinging his blade in each direction the
strikes came. Farther back the Mazazuken drove Geil until the
knight slammed his back into a tree. The Mazazuken roared and swung
at Geil's head, but the elf's reflexes outdid that of the beast as
its fist met with the trunk of the tree, scattering shards of
splintered wood and bark into the darkened forest. Geil struck hard
the stomach of his assailant and the werewolf stumbled back to
regain its composure.

Lorn and Muron watched on from the safety of
the campfire, both knowing they could not help their fellow
companion in this situation. They watched Geil being driven back
and pinned to a tree, but were relieved as Geil turned the tide
back to his favor. The Mazazuken retreated and leapt from tree to
tree once again, trying to outwit the elf. Still Geil remained
diligent as the beast returned to do battle. Their ears were filled
with the sounds of Geil's blade clanging against that of the
beast's sharp claws and the exchange of Geil grunting and the
Mazazuken snarling as the struggle continued.

"I am going to find Seth!" Lorn exclaimed,
seeing the Mazazuken distracted by the battle.

Lorn passed the fire and directed his small
steps in the direction he had last seen Highbinder. Out of the
firelight, he could not see much, though his determination never
flagged. Everything inside him desperately wanted to call out for
Seth, but the thought of Mazazuken lurking nearby silenced him.
Branch after stinging branch slapped the poor dwarf across his
face, yanking at his beard, until he found his way to a dirt
path.

The Mazazuken battling Geil soon grew
frustrated from his lack of progress upon his enemy and attempted
to disengage from the battle. Geil's hair whipped back as he bore
ahead in a full sprint, and as he greeted his life-long curse, he
swung his sword downward with all strength possible. The werewolf
countered with an upward forearm block, unphased even when the
blade penetrated its tough hide. Strike after strike of the elf's
steel continued to rain down, and though the werewolf's forearms
deflected most of Geil's rage, the elf-knight managed to penetrate
its defense, gashing the Mazazuken's body in many places. The foul
blood of Geil's opponent flung about in thick streams as the
Mazazuken became more careless and suicidal in its attacks.

The horses behind the two combatants grew
even more aggravated from the disturbance of the night. The three
steeds of the North began to buck as the Mazazuken howled, sending
the other horses of the company into the same panic. Geil darted
his eyes quickly to his horse and noticed the rein that secured it
to the tree was no longer bound.

"The horses, Geil!" Muron cried out. "They
will get away!"

Seeing Geil distracted, the werewolf bolted
from the campsite, disappearing into the shadows. As the evil fled
from the two elves, the eight horses grew calm once again, leaving
Muron much relieved. He did not relish the thought of chasing after
the animals into the dark, werewolf-infested forest with only Geil
at his side, no matter how fierce the warrior proved with his
sword.

Geil turned around to the fire pit and saw
Muron standing alone. Immediately he rushed toward the prince.
"Where is that dwarf?"

"I believe he left to find his human
friend."

"Why didn't you stop him?"

"Who am I to do such a thing?" Muron replied
mildly. "He is not under my control, thus not giving me the
right."

Disturbed at the prince's answer and knowing
that Arnanor wouldn't be pleased with such an attitude, Geil took
it upon himself to correct the situation. "What would your brother
say if he heard that?"

"I don't care, really. I am not like Arnanor,
nor do I plan to be. Individuality is a virtue." He crossed his
arms and raised his head, striking a proud stance.

"You are incorrect," Geil said firmly. "You
are of royal descent, and this betrays your claim to individuality
as false. You belong to your father, brother, and the people of the
Northern Kingdom. You, my lord Prince, are a servant to the elves,
and a leader. Never can you live for yourself alone." Geil knelt at
the prince's feet, showing his profound respect. "I mean no offense
when I speak in this way. My words and actions have been dictated
by your father and brother. Like you, my liege, I am bound to serve
the High Court, and I would not change that for the world. We both
have our calling in life."

"You speak true," Muron answered. "At times I
wish it were not so, but Fate has chosen otherwise." He helped Geil
to his feet.

"Now is not the time for further
conversation. Let us look for your brother."

As Muron turned to the path the four had
taken earlier, Geil rested his hand, as normal, on the prince's
shoulder. The knight never strayed far from Muron when on foot,
lest he ever need to pull the prince from harm's way.



Though they crossed many paths, Geil trusted
to his fading gift of intuition and wasted no time. Nearing the
hill, he could feel the others close by. The wailing winds
strengthened as they reached the base of the hill, and it was here
that they found their fallen prince, lying on his back. Arnanor was
motionless near a blazing Mazazuken carcass with thick smoke
billowing from its opened chest. The prince was very pale, though
not as ghostly white as Muron, who dropped his sword in disbelief.
Shrugging Geil's firm grip away, he fell to his knees at Arnanor's
side.

"Brother!" Muron cried, with tears running
down his face. "What have they done to you? Please, don't leave me.
I need you--" But before he could finish his plea, Arnanor opened
his tired eyes and tried to raise himself up. Muron smiled in
relief and attempted to embrace his beloved sibling, but before one
finger could caress his form, Arnanor pushed him away with the
little strength that remained.

"Leave it," Arnanor whispered, then looked
around and asked, "Where is Geil?"

"He is right behind me."

"Sir Geil…," Arnanor managed with feeble
authority.

"Yes, my liege?"

"The one who did this to me is on the
hilltop."

"Who did this to you, my lord?"

"Yin--" He coughed, then took another breath.
"Yindraken."

Geil felt numb and his knees buckled from
hearing the name. Squinting his eyes, Geil boiled deeper in fury as
images of the past flooded his mind. The horrid screams of his
fellow knights being slain by this monster rang in his ears, the
fallen souls crying out for revenge. Their young and innocent faces
were his greatest nightmare, for they had sacrificed all to the
kingdom. He would not let their deaths be in vain. If any were to
find out that he had failed against Yindraken, he would never be
able to show his face to the people who had suffered so from this
enemy's onslaughts.

"Dispose of our people's enemy," Arnanor
spoke. "Take Muron with you."

"I will eliminate your foe," Geil answered.
He gestured for Muron to remain behind, then began his march up the
hill.

Arnanor closed his eyes and did not see the
elf-knight leave his side, nor would he have approved of Geil
leaving Muron unattended. Geil's sight thinned into tunnel vision
as he stalked away to give Yindraken his well-deserved doom. But as
he reached the hilltop he noticed two more streaming comets blazing
down to earth. The bright glow of the magic reflected in his eyes
and then was gone as each light blew through the chest of a
Mazazuken minion, sending the blazing carcasses backward into the
shadowy night. Geil noticed Gildan's blade raised at the werewolf's
head.

Blood ran down the elf-knight's pale face,
and Yindraken, smelling it, knew that it was his kinsmen's.
Yindraken sat motionless beneath Gildan's blade, watching Geil lick
the shiny debris from his mouth as he began to approach.

"I will rip off your head and drink the blood
that will flow from your dead veins!" Geil declared, pointing his
sword forward.

Yindraken shook his head and replied, "You
can never destroy me, weak elf of the North. Upon the next moon I
will return to your barren homeland and rid this world of your
kind!"

"You'll have to kill me first!" Geil drew
back his sword and let out a hellish war cry, charging ahead in a
suicidal fit.

* * *

Watching his splendid magic fly across the
night sky, Randor saw the three projectiles hit their marks. He
crossed his arms and rested briefly, for his labor was far from
over. Only one werewolf still drew breath: a white-furred beast
apparently at the mercy of Gildan's blade. Seeing a faint light
flicker behind the hill, Randor glanced over his shoulder and found
Seth still lying as before, moaning in his daze.

I have wasted far too great
a time here
, said Randor to himself. And readjusting
his wildly flowing cloak, he set off, passing by Highbinder one
last time. "One of us will return for you when order is restored in
full," he said to Seth. Then, like an agile cat, Randor sprang from
his position and disappeared into the darkness, toward the
campfire.