"I must go there. I must find the source, and destroy it if I can."
"Madness." Allazar confirmed.
Rak nodded. "My friend, there is something I must tell you. News which you may not find welcome."
"Then tell me. The news may not be welcome, but the bearer of it always shall be."
Rak sighed. "We are bound by a duty, here in Threlland. In spite of this wizard's appeal to our king, in spite of his assurances of Morloch's weakness, all Threllanders are forbidden to impede the Ramoths, or to raise arms against them. It is the king's order, and we must obey."
Gawain shrugged. "It is the same in Juria, and Callodon. What of Mornland, and Arrun? How fare they?"
Allazar grimaced. "Of all, Threlland fares the best."
"Not true," Gawain said softly. "Elvendere remains untouched by this blight."
"In truth?"
"So it appeared to me. And I was there a goodly time. No vile black towers rise above their trees."
"They are fortunate, then." Rak said earnestly.
"Longsword, I did as you bade me. I have spoken to all the crowns south of the Teeth. But they are all resolved. None will openly defy the Ramoths, not since Raheen. But in secret, they hope."
"For what?"
"For you. That you will ride into their land, and sweep away this curse with one stroke of your blade."
"Then they hope in vain on that score." Gawain yawned. He was tired, it had been a long journey, and at a swift pace. "I go to the Teeth."
"You are a beacon to them," Rak asserted. "While they will not risk their lands, they know from Callodon and Juria that no retribution follows your deeds. That is why I think the Ramoths were at such pains to announce your death."
"Aye." Allazar agreed. "It was the Ramoth emissaries themselves began spreading such dark news. I was in Mornland's castle town, in the square, when a Ramoth guard nailed the news to the protectorate's doors. All around, I saw faces fall, shoulders slump, hope fade and die. It is as Rak says, you are a beacon to them. Perhaps that is why you vex Morloch so."
"Nevertheless," Gawain said coldly, "I am but one man. I cannot spend my whole life travelling from tower to tower, slaying emissaries. Already I have no doubt that the sickening edifice in Juria's castle town has been rebuilt. And in Callodon, too. I am but one, and the Ramoths are legion. If the flow from the Teeth is not stemmed, I am doomed to failure. If no-one else will light their torch from my beacon, it is a hopeless quest."
Rak frowned. "But how will you find the source? The Teeth are impassable. We know, my friend. We have lived all our generations this close to them."
"There must be a breach. How else do the Ramoth emissaries come south?"
"You could spend a lifetime looking for it."
"No. Morloch himself has given me the clue. The darkness, that would draw down the very sun. That is the source."
Allazar shuddered, but it was not cold. Gawain noticed, as did Rak.
"I shall go with you." Rak said softly. "I know this land."
"No." Gawain said firmly, perhaps too firmly, for the dwarf flinched, and looked pained. "Besides, I have other tasks for you, my friend."
"Very well. If it is important to your cause."
"It is."
"Then I shall not go with you."
"Nor shall I, Longsword. I cannot." Allazar said, his voice ragged.
Gawain studied the wizard. "You and I shall talk privately. Later. But friend Rak, I think I shall avail myself of the room that Merrin has kindly prepared for me."
"Of course."
"In the meantime, I should like you to make inquiries?"
Rak looked up expectantly. "Of course."
"You once mentioned that miners had found nothing but hard stone and pain at the Teeth. Perhaps some yet live that remember?"
"If they do, I shall find them. May I ask why?"
Gawain stood. "It is simple. If the Teeth are impassable, then the Ramoths cannot be coming over them. If not over, then under. Or through."
Rak nodded.
"And you, Allazar. I shall meet you before sunset, up at the point, overlooking the farak gorin."
"I shall be there. But Longsword, I cannot go with you to the Teeth."
"We shall talk later."
Gawain left them in the garden, and went to his room. It was as he remembered it, and the bed of soft furs and skins reminded him of Elvendere. But he must set all that aside now, as he set aside the longsword, propping it against the wall before he sank onto the bed and closed his eyes.
Rak was out when he awoke later in the afternoon, and after a hasty but satisfying lunch of bread and cold meats prepared by Merrin, Gawain left the house by the back door, and made his way to the point. Allazar was already there, sitting on a boulder, gazing at the Teeth, and at the farak gorin.
"You look like a frightened child." Gawain announced softly, and Allazar span around.
"Longsword! I did not hear you approach."
"I have been too long in Elvendere. They walk softly there.” Gawain sat beside the wizard, and followed his gaze out across the wasteland below them.
"See those dots, darker than the rest of the farak gorin?" Allazar remarked.
"I do."
"They wait for you."
"Three black riders on foot are no trial worthy of the name. They are slow, weighed down by their armour. They will make but short work. But that is not what frightens you, is it, whitebeard?"
"I wish you wouldn't call me that, Longsword. I am your friend, and I have a name."
"You are a wizard. Just because I haven't killed you yet doesn't make you a friend. Tell me about that." Gawain nodded towards the Teeth, where an occasional shimmering blackness could be seen.
"It is said to be an illusion, caused by refraction…"
"I don't care for whitebeard lies. I know different, as do you. You remember the tower at Juria? The poison? Aquamire, you said. And you said it was aquamire that gave the black riders life. When I slew those riders, great jets of blackness blasted from them. The same blackness I saw when Morloch appeared. The same blackness I see now, shimmering faintly from the Teeth."
Allazar fiddled with the hem of his sleeves, and gazed off into the distance.
Gawain waited a few moments longer, but his patience had limits, and this was important.
"Tell me, wizard, or offend me. The latter is a course I do not recommend."
Allazar nodded, but would not meet Gawain's eyes.
"Aquamire. I shall not tell you how it is prepared. I cannot. It is too vile, too evil…" the wizard sighed, and seemed pained beyond description. "There is an energy in all living things. It is difficult to describe. Wizards use this energy, manipulate it, divert it, transmute it…it is difficult to describe. Observe…"
The wizard stood, and plucked a leafy twig from a nearby tree. The leaves were edged with reddish brown, autumnal shades. Allazar held the twig, and began a gentle chanting, his free hand making patterns in the air. As Gawain watched, the leaves seemed to grow lush, greener, and the tints of autumn were driven back from their edges like a tide receding.
Allazar let out a huge sigh, and handed the twig to Gawain. "That was tiring, and took much energy. With aquamire, I could drive autumn from the entire tree. With enough aquamire, I could drive autumn from all Elvendere. Or raze that mighty forest to ashes."
"Like Raheen."
"Like Raheen."
"Then while you and your brethren this side of the Teeth have to be content with party tricks, Morloch bathes in a lake of this aquamire and lays waste to entire lands. With so much aquamire there, I would have thought I'd have to fight my way through hordes of wizards to get to Morloch, not watch them scuttle away from such power."
"You do not understand! It is poison! You saw the effects of tiny doses on Juria! It consumes! It consumes your very soul! Do you not realise how hard it is for me not to rush across the farak gorin? To ally myself with Morloch just for one taste of that power? Do you not remember the vile apparition, how the aquamire had eaten away that creature we call Morloch?"