Gawain sighed. "It does. And I must not stay long. Morloch stalks me, and his black riders may come at any time."
Rak's eyebrows arched. "His black riders guard the farak gorin, and have done these last weeks. When the wizard Allazar spoke of you, when we were told of your death, we took the whitebeard up to the point, and showed him the farak gorin. We showed him the three masked demons that stood at the edge of the river of nothing.
"'There,' we said, 'there are your black riders. Traveller is not dead, else why would they wait so patiently?' He could not answer. Still they await you. Some of our patrols have passed close by, and those vile creatures have moved not a muscle. They wait, my friend, for you alone."
"They will not have to wait long." Gawain replied, draining his mug.
Rak sighed. "As I suspected. You go to the Teeth."
"I must."
"Is there nothing will persuade you against this madness?"
"No. Forgive me, my friend."
"Then I shall send word of your arrival to the inn, although I suspect it is already known throughout all Threlland by now. Allazar is there. We would not let him leave."
Gawain glanced up as Rak rose, and shot him an inquisitive look. Rak smiled.
"Well, we couldn't have some whitebeard running around Threlland telling everyone you were dead, could we?"
Gawain smiled, and imagined the wizard's discomfort at being held captive in so friendly a place. The inn was perhaps the most accommodating prison in the land.
While Rak was away, Gawain closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax a little. Gwyn was well-tended in the stable at the rear of the house, he was surrounded by his friends. He was tired, and could easily sleep. But now was not the time. The Teeth loomed large in the distance, perhaps a day and a night's brisk walk across the harsh and spiteful cinders of the farak gorin wasteland. He was too close for the luxury of rest. And his friends were too close to him.
A short time later, Gawain heard the door open, and Rak stepped into the room, a wide-eyed Allazar close on his heels.
"Does he not look well for a dead man, wizard?" Rak grinned.
"Longsword!" Allazar gasped. "It is true! You live!"
"I do, whitebeard."
"But the black riders…"
"They do not."
Allazar sank into a chair, his face at once a mixture of joy and stunned amazement. Merrin looked in, and raised a questioning eyebrow at her husband, who simply smiled reassuringly. She closed the door, and moments later they heard noises from the kitchen as she began preparing breakfast.
"Here you sit, Longsword, but still I doubt my senses." Allazar sighed, and shook his head.
"But for the elves, I would have perished. But rumours of my death are premature."
"But for the elves?"
"I was struck by a shaft. Those cursed riders tip their weapons with Elve’s Blood."
Rak grimaced.
"Evil is never honourable." Allazar announced.
"All violence is seldom honourable." Rak said softly, staring at Gawain, "Though sometimes it is necessary."
Gawain nodded. "That is why I am here. This tide of vile Ramoths must be turned. And it must be stemmed at its source."
"You will never survive the Teeth, my friend." Allazar asserted.
"Morloch said as much himself."
Rak gasped, eyes wide with shock. "You have seen Morloch?"
"I have."
Allazar folded his arms into the sleeves of his robes. "We have all had such dreams, Longsword. They seldom presage real events."
"This was no dream, Allazar. This was morning, on the Jurian Plains, but a short ride from the edge of Elvendere's southern province, and Gwyn saw him too. He spoke."
Allazar's arms shot out of his sleeves and he leapt to his feet, his words an excited torrent. "He appeared? In truth, Longsword, he appeared how? Spoke how? What did he say? What were his words, how did he look?"
Gawain described the visitation in detail. Allazar sank back into his chair.
"Astounding," the wizard almost whispered, "The power! Such a distance!"
"What does this mean?" Rak asked.
"Mean?" Allazar gasped, "It means a great deal! Do you not see? Morloch is all but spent, exhausted from the destruction of Raheen. Yet he casts himself clear across the Teeth to Juria, to Longsword! Can you imagine the energy that required? Oh how you must vex him, Longsword, how you must vex him! This is astounding. I had estimated him spent, yet he summons the energy to create the black riders! After that, I had thought him exhausted beyond recovery, but now this! His powers must be all but lost completely!"
"Or," Rak pointed out, "Considerably greater than you had first imagined."
Allazar stared at the dwarf for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, you cannot understand. You don't understand the energies involved." Then he turned to Longsword. "Oh how you must have vexed him!"
"I find that word increasingly irritating." Gawain sighed, unimpressed with whitebeard talk. "It matters not whether he is exhausted, or whether he possesses energy in abundance. I go to the Teeth. If I find him, I shall destroy him. And this so-called 'god' Ramoth."
"You may not need to, Longsword." Allazar looked suddenly excited, and there was hope in Rak's eyes. "If I can assemble the brethren, if I can persuade them to form council, we can bind Morloch forever…"
"If." Gawain interrupted. "I have no faith in whitebeards. And I shall not wait while you waste a lifetime attempting to persuade your kind to listen to you, and gather, and mumble, and gaze at the stars or whatever it is you do. You forget, Allazar, your brethren hold you in little regard."
Allazar stared at Gawain for a dozen heartbeats, and then sank back in his chair, defeated.
"Besides," Gawain said softly, "I have need of you."
"Of me?" The wizard sat up again, suddenly alarmed.
"Of you. And of my friends here in Tarn."
"We shall do all we can, if we are able." Rak responded without hesitation.
"Me?" Allazar said again, but was spared Gawain's reply by Merrin's appearance announcing that breakfast was ready.
While they were eating, Merrin fetched a sleepy-eyed Travak from his bed, and proudly presented him at table. Gawain smiled, and received a bashful grin in return from the infant who then giggled and buried his face in his mother's shoulder.
"He is strong," Rak said proudly, "And will grow into a fine man."
"How could he not, with such a fine father?" Merrin smiled.
Gawain studied the remains on his plate, trying to force memories of Raheen and Morloch to the back of his mind. There had been many strong infants in his homeland, and many proud parents. Doubtless they too had once voiced such convictions.
Allazar noted Gawain's reaction, and deftly steered the conversation to Threlland and its inhabitants.
"Do you know, Longsword," he said, "I fear I would have been held prisoner here in Tarn the rest of my days, had you not arrived. I fear my robes scarcely fit, so generous are my gaolers."
Gawain smiled, and finished his meal. "Had I known you were incarcerated on my account, I might have been tempted to stay away."
Rak laughed. "He does not like wizards."
"With good reason, of late." Gawain scowled, but it was difficult to hold the expression with Travak gurgling and giggling.
"I must dress him for the day," Merrin announced, and rose from the table.
They watched her go, and as sunshine blazed through the window, Gawain stood, and suggested they take to the garden, to talk.
It was a glorious day, leaves on the trees edged with golden brown, and though the breezes were cool, there was yet no hint of the winter to come even in these high lands. But the Teeth loomed over them, to the north, and Gawain was filled with resolution when they sat on a bench out of earshot of the house.
"What do you intend?" Rak asked, his voice sombre.