Gawain heard the old man spit. "Any closer and I'll be under yer cloak."
The young man smiled in spite of himself.
"If'n you don't mind me asking, Serre?"
"Ask.”
"You do have a plan for those monsters?"
"I do. I've dealt with them before. They're not so tough."
"You'll pardon me if I choose to remain unconvinced at this point, Serre."
Again Gawain grinned, and judged the distance. It would still be a few minutes before the first came in range of his arrows. The sun was rising quickly, and glistened and sparkled on the farak gorin as though it were a vast body of water. It reminded him almost of the Sea of Hope, but there was no hope here. Only dead brown bitchrock waiting patiently for another victim. Gawain was surprised at its expanse, too. It stretched far off to the east and the west, as though the very Teeth themselves had wept a flood of bitter tears that lapped against the hills of Threlland and the Gorian Empire, and then frozen hard into this wasteland.
They were closing fast now, and Gawain swung his cloak aside to draw three arrows.
"I 'ate to mention it at this point, Serre, but you forgot to bring yer bow." A worried voice muttered from close behind him.
"No, I carry it with me always." Gawain said quietly, fitting the Raheen bowstring around the first shaft. "As our dark friends are about to learn to their cost."
Gawain planted his front foot firmly on the harsh rock, drew back his arm, and hurled the first shaft with full force. He was stringing the second and walking forward again, both he and Martan watching the arrow's lazy flight. It struck the middle of the three black riders, and for a moment nothing seemed to happen. Then the creature toppled forward, and from three hundred or more paces they heard the eerie death-screeching as black light shot skyward.
Aquamire 'liberated', Gawain thought, catching a fleeting glimpse of understanding from his conversation with Allazar. Then he threw his second shaft. It was in mid-flight when the two armoured demons raised their crossbows and fired back. Martan instinctively ducked behind Gawain, but the bolts fell harmlessly short.
Another whistling screech told of Gawain's aim, and then the third was felled while it was still cocking its crossbow.
"That's it?" Martan gasped. "That's all?"
"That's it." Gawain acknowledged, flipping his wrist to coil the string back in place.
"Well then, I am pleased to say I 'ave reconsidered my former reservations, and do 'umbly accept that they ain't so tough after all."
"No, they're not. Which is a good thing, but a little worrying all the same."
A sudden shimmering in the air in front of them had Martan ducking back behind Gawain's cloak.
"I like not the look of this, Serre!" he croaked, peering around Gawain's arm and clutching a rock-hammer in his fist.
"Nor I. But I think I know what it is. Stay calm. It cannot hurt you."
"You'll pardon me if I refer you to my earlier comments."
The shimmering took shape, long and thin and black, and Gawain folded his arms. Morloch, seeming to crystallise out of thin air.
"Still you vex me, nothing. Still you vex me."
"You'll not have long to wait, Morloch. And then nothing shall vex you ever again."
"Cower. Beg mercy. Grovel, nothing, or know my wrath."
"No. You shall know mine."
"Futile. You shall perish. You shall not set foot on the Teeth."
"You said that about the farak gorin, scum, yet here stand I."
"You are nothing. You shall die."
"Not while you live."
"Go. While you may, nothing, I grow weary of this game and shall play with you no longer."
The vision began shimmering again, and Gawain smiled cruelly as it faded and disappeared.
"That…man…did not look well." Martan grunted.
"No," Gawain agreed, setting off again, "No he did not, did he."
"It was Morloch?"
"It was."
"Then you'll pardon me for saying so, Serre," Martan said, his voice quavering, "But I shouldn't be at all surprised to learn 'e ain't ever been married, looking like that an' all."
Gawain laughed, and nearly slipped on the treacherous glaze underfoot. Immediately the tension evaporated just as Morloch's vision had, and Gawain knew that Rak had been right to allow this old miner to serve as his guide. Old the man might be, but yet possessed of amazing character.
Martan was right about Morloch too. And so, in all probability, was Allazar. The dark wizard looked far worse than he had before, and this apparition was much shorter. The obscene round head had been a sickly pale hue, the black aquamire blotches standing out on the near translucent skin. Black veins had throbbed at his temples, and his aquamire eyes seemed somehow less penetrating, less malevolent.
With luck, and with good men like Rak of Tarn and Captain Jerryn of Juria behind him, Morloch would soon have something else to think about. By the time Gawain and Martan reached the Teeth, the young warrior sincerely hoped that a tall fair-haired warrior wielding a terrible longsword would be terrorising Ramoths the length and breadth of Juria. It might be enough to convince Morloch that Gawain had fled the farak gorin…it would certainly be enough to keep the Ramoths occupied. If it worked.
"Don't touch them," Gawain warned Martan as they passed the fallen remains of the black riders. "Those red streaks on their weapons are Elve’s Blood."
"They don't look so tough at all, now I sees 'em like this." Martan grunted, kicking the empty shell of armour. "Those arrers of yours, did that wizard enchant 'em or something?"
"No," Gawain chuckled, moving ever onward. "They are stone-tipped. That's all."
"Bit old fashioned, that. Don't know that I fancy the idea of folk taking to that old tradition, iron being my life's blood and all Threlland's too."
"Sometimes the old traditions are the best."
"Aye, like finding nothin' but 'ard stone and pain out 'ere. Them creatures certainly did."
"What say we try another old tradition? I've a mind to sample this frak of yours for breakfast."
"Ah! Now yer talking, Serre!" Martan grinned, and fished a lump from his pack, and cut it in half with his knife.
It had a curious taste, and not at all unpleasant. But it took a deal of chewing, and they walked for almost an hour in silence, eating their frak and enjoying the autumnal sunshine.
"The mountains don't seem to be getting any closer." Gawain remarked at length.
"It's the heat from the rocks, make's 'em look further than they is. Many's the faint-hearted turned back before they made it 'alfway across."
"When do you expect we'll find the workings?"
"Pends how long we sleep, or stop. We keep going through the night until tiredness creeps up, well be at the foot of the Teeth this time tomorrer. Should find the entrance to the old shafts by noon, I reckon."
"Good."
"You don't like that lot much."
"Who?"
"Them Ramoths."
"No. I don't."
"Can't say as I blame you, Serre. Ain't too keen on 'em meself. None too keen on that Morloch, neither. Trouble is, us living so close to the Teeth, not much we could do about it. Talk all through Threlland is, what with us being a lot closer to Morloch than Raheen were, it'd been easier for the dark bastard to 'ave done for us what 'e did for those poor people."
"Perhaps it would." Gawain sighed.
"Aye. A whole land, gone. In but an instant. I cried, when I 'eard the news, and I ain't shamed to admit it. My one consolation were that my beloved wife weren't alive when it happened."
"You knew Raheen?"
"No. Never set foot outside Threlland all me life. Excluding the Teeth, of course. But I glimpsed a bunch of 'em once. Raheen cavalry, riding up the hills, proud as you like, Serre, escorting their ambassador, back in the days of that war in Pellarn. Never seen such a sight, nor never will now. They were like sunshine on a frosty morning, they were, Serre. Sitting tall on their steeds, great battle-chargers they were, all black and shinin' like fresh paint. Noble people, and friendly too, by all accounts. We were all for pickin' up our 'ammers and picks and walking off after 'em when they left, down south, to battle the empire. But we was forbid. Armies need steel, we were told, steel needs iron, and iron needs miners. And besides, our army couldn't cross Juria back then without a big to-do."