“Strictly speaking,” said Aravan, “ ’twas Bair who slew Galarun’s killer, Ydral.”
Aylis gave Aravan a quick peck on the cheek and said, “Methinks you were busy at the time dealing with Gyphon.”
At Aylis’s words, Aravan’s embrace tightened about her. “Oh, Chier, we nearly lost it alclass="underline" not only the pledge and our lives, but the whole of creation.”
“But you did not.” Aylis gave him another quick kiss. “Now let’s talk about something more cheerful. . our trothing perhaps?”
Surrounded by winter-dressed aspens and silver birch, the crystalline waters of Lyslyn Mere lay mirror-smooth in the high, still air of the mountains. On the far side of the mere a cupping massif of alabaster stone rose sheer unto the sky, and mist twined among the trees along the shore. Snow lay upon the ground, but the broad, limpid pool held no ice; instead the waters embraced a clear reflection of stone and woodland and sky.
On a smooth outjut of pale grey granite lying along the brim, an assembly of Elvenkind stood, a female of Magekind among them, and the horses they had ridden to reach this place were tethered among the birch, their breath blowing white in the chill air. To the right of Aravan stood Inarion, for he had vouched for the Alor, and to the left of Aylis stood Faeon, who had done the same for the Dara.
Facing the four as well as the assembly stood Valar-second in command of the fort-for that Lian Guardian had been chosen to conduct the ceremony. And he had spoken the venerable words of plighting, conceived long past and pledged by trothmates ever since. He now came to the last of his guiding words and their replies and affirmations: “. . Hence, to keep thy bond strong ye must share equally in the cultivation of the common ground and in the nurturing of the promises between; and ye must sort among all duties and participate willingly and fully in all which can be shared.”
Valar then took Aylis’s right hand and Aravan’s left and asked, his voice soft, “Do ye comprehend all that ye have declared?”
Both Aravan and Aylis looked into one another’s eyes. We do , they said in unison.
“Then speak true: Do ye vow to each other to tend the common ground and to cherish the pledges given and received?”
I do vow , they said in unison.
“Then speak true: Will ye plight thy troth to one another, forsaking all who would come between?”
I do vow.
Valar then placed Aylis’s hand in Aravan’s and clasped their joined hands in his. “Then, Dara Aylis, then, Alor Aravan, each having spoken true, go forth from here together and share thy joys and thy burdens in equal measure until thine individual destinies determine otherwise.”
Valar embraced each of them, first Aylis, then Aravan, and then called out to alclass="underline" “ Alori e Darai, va da, Dara Aylis e Alor Aravan, avan taeya e evon a plith .”
And even as Aravan and Aylis kissed, a great shout went up from all and echoed among the mountains of the Durynian Range.
They rode back to the fort, Elves singing the leagues away, and as they entered through the main gate, they were greeted by cheers from those who had remained on ward. Into the partially completed assembly hall they escorted the new-pledged pair, where they found a feast waiting. The celebration lasted long, Elven bards taking turns, while lyre and lute and drum and flute filled the air with music. Poems were spoken and songs were sung and dances sedate were stepped and dances wild were flung. Each in turn, all the Alori danced with Aylis and all the Darai with Aravan. And there was much laughter and cheer. But at last even Elvenkind had to call it a night, though they led Aravan and Aylis to their quarters, and sang them a pleasant eve.
Two days after, amid farewells and trailing packhorses, Aravan and Aylis rode out from the fort, heading for the Eldwood forest of Darda Falain, lying some three hundred leagues away. There they would cross over to the Eldwood forest of Darda Galion on Mithgar on their way to their beloved Elvenship Eroean .
Standing on the banquette along the palisades, Eiron and Faeon watched them ride away. And when the last of the trailing horses vanished among the distant trees, Eiron took Faeon by the hand, and they turned and went down the ramp and back to the business essential.
13
JOURNEY TO THE EROEAN
MID SPRING, 6E1
In a tiny glade by a crystalline mere in the dawntime upon Mithgar, canting and chanting, their horses dancing an arcane sidle step, Aylis and Aravan came riding out from the in-between and into the Eldtree forest of Darda Galion. In the air above and winging across on their own came silverlarks singing, their carols heralding the onset of a new day, for a new day indeed had come. And in spite of a gentle rain, a warm spring breeze purled among the soaring giants, the trees shedding twilight down upon the woodland below, for within the Larkenwald Elvenkind dwelled, which the Eld Trees somehow sensed and responded to.
Aylis and Aravan were some three hundred leagues from Merchants Crossing in the south, there where the Eroean lay. Yet that Elven ship was not their immediate goal, but the Dwarvenholt of Drimmen-deeve instead, for Aravan would collect a Dwarven warband for his ship, and Drimmen-deeve held another treasure he needed as well as the warriors he would have.
Aravan glanced at Aylis and smiled and said, “This way, Chier.” And he heeled his horse and set off easterly, leaving the mere behind. Through long twilit galleries they rode, and the limbs and foliage far above formed a canopy o’erhead, sheltering them somewhat from the light rain carried on the air, more of a mist than a shower. Now and again, however, where great clusters of leaves on high overlapped to form a broad cover, the water collected and runneled together across the dusky green layer to come tumbling down through the dawn light in a long, streaming cascade.
And as they rode, Aylis marveled at the size of the soaring behemoths, some rising nigh nine hundred feet into the air, the girths of their boles many paces around, their broad limbs widely reaching. She knew, too, that the wood of the Eld Tree was precious-prized above all others-and she wondered how it was harvested. As if reading her thoughts, Aravan said, “None of these have ever been felled by any of the Free Folk, though long past, in the First Era, some were hacked down in malice by Rupt. ’Twas the Felling of the Nine; but Elven vengeance was swift and without mercy. Examples were made of the ax wielders, and their remains were displayed to Spaunen in their mountain haunts throughout Mithgar; and never again has an Eld Tree been hewn in Darda Galion.”
“But I have seen dear things made of this wood,” said Aylis. “If not hewn, then how-?”
Aravan gestured at the surround. “At times a gathering is made in the forest, for occasionally lightning or a great wind from the south sweeping o’er the wide plains of Valon will cause branches to fall; and these are collected by the Lian storm-gleaners, and treasures dear are fashioned of this precious timber.”
“What of storm-felled trees?” asked Aylis. “Or those that simply topple of old age? Surely now and again a tree falls in the forest.”
Aravan nodded. “Thou art right, my love: Eld Trees sometimes die. And for each that does so, we mourn, for the trees somehow know when Elvenkind dwell nigh and shed their twilight down. And there are among Elvenkind those who in turn are attuned to the trees and feel the passing of each.”
“Some of you can sense the loss of one of these giants?”
“Aye. Arin Flameseer of the Dylvana was one. In fact, she felt the deaths of the Nine, or rather I should say their murder.”
They rode in silence for a moment, and then Aravan said, “When an Eld Tree falls, the master carvers long study each branch and twig, each root and nub, and every inch of the full of the bole, sensing the grain, sensing the shapes trapped within, ere setting ought to ought.”