The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor (18 page)

Taking one last glance around, Randor finally
felt enough at ease to surrender to sleep. He slept only rarely,
but now his eyes grew heavy as he looked into the fire. Taking off
his hat and placing it at his side, the wizard sank to the ground
and was soon asleep.

Chapter Eight: Prophesies in the Snow

Dawn found all the traveling companions
yearning for more sleep. Malander was first up, stretching his sore
muscles and taking a swing or two with his sword as the elves of
the North fed their horses the little grain they had left in their
pouches. Lorn, Gildan, and Randor lit their pipes and sat around
the fire.

"What is today's plan?" Seth asked, eager to
begin.

"We reach the Oracle in the late afternoon or
just before sunset." He paused to blow out a great cloud of smoke.
"It is imperative we make it before nightfall. Otherwise, we must
pass another night like the last."

"May I never spend another night outdoors in
these woods again!" Seth exclaimed with a shiver.

"Hopefully this Oracle friend of yours will
give us a much needed clue," said Gildan.

"Trust me, Gildan, all of our questions will
be answered."

"Yet your wisdom and insight cannot help us?"
Seth asked. Knowing that Randor had thousands of years' experience,
he was puzzled why the wizard should be unable to help them.

"This burden is perhaps greater anyone can
bear," Randor replied. "Any who claims he can undo this evil is
lying both to the world and to himself."

Gildan, nodding in agreement, said, "No doubt
this will be my ultimate quest."

* * *

The eight mounted their steeds and fell into
single file on the dim path. Seth thought the wood looked healthier
than it had the night before, as if a great evil had left it.
Memories of the night's battles came back to haunt the travelers as
they reached the top of the hill, which appeared untouched and
fresh. Randor stopped and gazed to the south, seeing faintly their
destination on the hazy horizon.

Abruptly and without a word, Arnanor
dismounted, with sword drawn and a serious look on his face. He
strode a few steps away, with Muron and Geil quickly following, and
the three stared into the rising sun.
"Montah!"
they said in unison, and after
pronouncing the elvish word, they knelt with their blades to the
ground before them. Randor and Gildan, knowing this ritual, sat in
respectful silence, while Lorn looked to Seth in wonder, not
knowing what to make of the elven ritual of praise to Ethindar for
granting another day of life. After they moved their lips in quiet
prayer, Arnanor stood first, took in a deep breath, and again
mounted his horse, soon followed by Geil and Muron. Randor pointed
to the thick forest ahead, and the party set off again.

* * *

By midday the company had put many miles
behind them. The forest came alive with the calls of birds and the
drone of insects, measured by the never-ending clop of hooves along
the path. To entertain his royal charge, Geil recited many verses
and told stories, sometimes breaking into song. Arnanor, meanwhile,
said nothing, glowering at Gildan and Randor, who, he supposed,
were scheming some grand idea without his help. Finally, unable to
hold his peace, he lightly spurred his horse and broke free from
his brother and Geil's side. With his head raised in pride, he
galloped along the edge of the path, reining in beside the wizard
but keeping his eyes straight ahead.

"Yes?" Randor asked.

"Don't mind me," Arnanor answered. "Just a
change in position is all."

Gildan shook his head, not believing the
prince for one moment.

"Think I am up to something?" the prince
asked offhandedly.

"I can feel some of your emotions, young
prince," Randor said, wishing the elf would return to his
brethren.

"And what do you sense?"

"I would rather not say yet….There are more
pressing things at the moment."

Arnanor laughed, drawing a strange look from
Randor, who knew not what brought on this amusement. "It is odd
indeed that not even you, Perfect Child of Ethindar, have the
slightest idea of what happened to Beldas," said Arnanor, as if to
show that he was not intimidated by Randor or anyone else. He would
always let his mind speak aloud. "Eight thousand years upon Londor
shows you nothing?"

"I am not as perfect as perhaps you would
like me to be," Randor replied. "Do you come to belittle my wisdom?
For if that is your goal, then a fruitless one it is." He kept his
eyes on the road, preferring not to goad Arnanor on in his folly.
"Perhaps I should allow you to lead this company."

"If you renounce your role among us, then I
will gladly accept."

"So you intend a double meaning when you
speak of a change in position?"

"Not originally," the prince lied.

"After you reveal your master plan," Randor
began, "then the quest is yours to deal with."

"Splendid."

"History shall be written: Prince Arnanor's
flawless leadership was the key in restoring the world to balance
once again. His bravery was unmatched, and his skills with the
sword were those of a god." Listening, Arnanor imagined the stories
as if they were already true and written in the scrolls. Randor
went on, fueling the arrogant prince's imagination further before
putting him back in his place. "Failure, on the other hand, could
ruin your family name and the fortunes of your precious Northern
Kingdom." Chuckling, Randor continued, "I can see it all
clearly."

Arnanor's smile was gone as he quickly turned
his head to the unwatching Randor; he had to know what the wizard
meant by those cryptic words. "What are you saying? What do you
see?"

"I speak of failure. If I allow you to
command this quest, it will be your name the world will remember.
Yes, the world will never rebalance, and our quest for Beldas will
end in tragedy. You and your kindred will ride back to the North,
if you survive this journey, and go about your lives--what remains
of them. Stories will reach to every corner of the earth, and they
will blame you for their bitter and horrific end. Armies will rise
and take up arms against your father, and you will be crushed. The
Council will not aid your kingdom, for you are now traitors to the
Great Tree of Mudalfaen." Arnanor slowed his pace and fell
gradually behind Randor, and still the wizard spoke of what he saw.
"I see brilliant fires burning atop the mountains of snow. No
structure will stand after your countless enemies come. Your
family's banner will be ripped apart and paraded in every Mudalfaen
kingdom for the remaining days on end!" Randor finally turned
around and saw Arnanor's flushed complexion, then pleaded, "So
please, my good elf, come take my position."

"Yes," Gildan added, laughing, "I beg of you,
lead me."

"Have it your way, wizard!" Arnanor blasted,
gritting his teeth as he at last fell back to ride next to his
brother.

"That is that," Gildan commented. "I suppose
it will be a while before he wishes to sound off again."

"His temper will be the end of us all," Seth
said softly to Lorn. Much relieved now, they both had thought
Randor serious at first about the leadership change, with Seth
especially worried. "Thankfully, it has ended well."

"I worry about that one," Lorn huffed.

Muron could be heard in the back, trying to
converse with Arnanor, but his elder brother did not speak, boiling
in his anger. Malander rode behind the princes, and Seth thought he
caught the faint wisp of a smile from Malander due to the Arnanor's
folly. This was the first time, away from battle, that anyone had
seen this mysterious knight show any sign of gladness. Malander
straightened his lips and resumed his stern, cold expression.

* * *

As the sky began to turn orange, the company
reached a high cliff above the trees, and there they stopped to
rest. Across the vale, some two miles away, on another cliff top,
perched a black mansion, dark as night and as magnificent as a
castle. Steps carved in the stone cliff side led downward from the
company's position. The steps reentered the last of the forest, and
beyond that, another high flight led upward to the front of the
Oracle's cliff-top fastness. The mighty structure had many lit
windows, and smoke billowed from five chimneys. Though Gildan had
caught a glimpse of this place the night before, he had had no idea
it would be so enormous. The dark dwelling gave an eerie feeling to
any who looked upon it. Above the mansion's highest peak, a flock
of blackbirds soared like dead leaves in a whirlwind.

Randor dismounted and knelt to the ground,
resting his hand on a rough place in the road--something had caught
his eye.

"What is it?" Seth asked.

"Footprints," Randor answered. "Three days
old, I would say."

"Mazazuken?" Arnanor suggested anxiously.

"They appear to be, but the weather has
distorted them a great deal," Randor said as he rose, wiping his
hands free of the soft dirt. "Let us proceed with caution."

Letting the horses pick their way, they
descended the cliff, taking the long, curved flight of ancient
steps without mishap as the forest loomed ever closer in view. The
darkening forest stood before them, looking very unwelcoming as the
sun sank through the trees, with no sign yet of the higher path to
the mansion. Failure to reach their destination would result in
another night of fighting Mazazuken, who would use the darkness to
finish the company off. Randor's energy was still low after his use
of magic the night before, and it would be two or three days before
his full strength returned--what was left of it, anyway.

"If we make it," Seth said, "a much needed
rest awaits us."

"I can already feel the warmth of a bed!"
Lorn added. Both were optimistic, though they remained well in the
middle of the riders. "I just hope he does have such comforts."

"Follow me!" Randor called out, encouraging
his companions.

"There it is!" Muron gasped as they cleared
the cover of the forest. There stood the stone staircase, beyond a
final declining hill. The steps were wide, yet their horses would
not be able to carry them on their backs up the steep incline, for
cracks and erosion over the ages had weakened the structure. Thin
clouds of wispy fog snaked down the stairs, growing thicker as the
travelers rose higher.

Randor looked high above and put his mind on
the obstacles ahead. Very little light remained in the sky, and
this place held great evil--Randor alone was the only one who could
hold this gathering together. He doubted that Arnanor could control
himself; a constant watch over the prince would be necessary.

The air seemed to grow thinner with every
step, and soon the forest disappeared beneath the low-hanging
clouds, causing Lorn and Seth to abandon their thoughts of warmth
and rest. Then a great, invisible power seemed to grip their
chests, relentless in its hold.

"What is happening, Randor?" Seth managed to
speak.

Not only Seth and Lorn felt it, for all
seemed to struggle as they continued doggedly ahead. Only the
horses seemed unaffected by this mysterious force. The elves of the
North could feel their armor weighing down on them and heard the
faint sounds of their fine metals giving in to the strain.

"A magic barrier," Randor replied. He had
forgotten just how the Oracle protected his grounds from those
outside. "Everyone stop now. A few more steps might be fatal to us
all."

"Nonsense," Arnanor said, unwilling to trust
this wizard's advice. "What are you hiding from us?" He shoved Lorn
out of the way, almost knocking the dwarf off the steps and to the
depths below, and drew his sword as he took the steps two at a
time. He felt pleased with himself until the moment came when the
barrier slowed him down almost completely, crushing his body
without mercy. His head throbbed under the weight, yet Arnanor
still ignored the warnings. Geil finally took it upon himself to
stop the madness but was halted by Randor's hand. The prince raised
his sword higher into the magic barrier and charged ahead in vain,
feeling his armor pressing harder against his bones. Though wanting
to scream, Arnanor held his tongue. Sweat poured from his brow and
stung his squinting eyes, and all reasoning was lost. Finally,
having had more than enough, Arnanor sank back in defeat, his sword
clanging against the steps as he made his way back to the
others.

"Are you all right?" Muron asked.

"I am alive," Arnanor answered, ashamed.

"Let me attempt a better solution," Randor
said, turning around. "Stand back." Facing ahead, he raised his
hands, hoping that some of his powers still remained in
reserve.

Arnanor resheathed his sword with a shaky
hand and bent over, elbows on knees, trying to reclaim his
breath.

"Now, listen closely," Randor spoke. "After I
cast this spell I want all of you to move as quickly as can be
until you stand before the mansion's front gate."

"What are you going to do?" Seth asked.

"I will lower the barrier for a brief
time." Randor had the attention of all--even Malander, who seemed
to be enjoying entirely too much the pain that gripped him. "When I
give the word, you now know what to do." He focused and aligned
himself with the steps.
"Whei lon nara mir
nara tugath!"

A flash of green light flickered for a few
moments, then faded with a loud buzzing sound. "Forward!" A hundred
steps remained as the company hurried upward, pulling their horses
behind them. Lorn had difficulty as he tugged on the reins of his
balking horse. Panicked, he stumbled backward on a cracked step,
but Seth caught him before he could fall, then grabbed the dwarf's
horse's reins, pulling on both steeds as they hurried upward. The
barrier was gone, and so was the pain. A flat stone floor greeted
them at last. As soon as Lorn arrived with Seth, Randor spun
sharply around and waved his hand to reseal the magic, igniting the
green flash of light once more.