"Silence, whitebeard. I am thinking."
Rak flinched, and Allazar froze.
"What has happened, brother, to fill you with such darkness? What did you see upon the Point?" Rak almost pleaded, as Gawain spread out the map on the floor, staring at it.
"I saw the truth, Rak. And would have seen it sooner but for the weakness that has blinded me of late."
Allazar gasped. "Weakness? Longsword, by the Teeth…"
"I have told you, wizard. Hold your tongue." Then Gawain pointed a finger at the map on the floor. "This, Rak, what is it?"
"That is eastern Threlland."
Gawain sighed and drew his longsword. Both Rak and Allazar took a pace backwards. Gawain stabbed the map with the tip of his blade, in the centre of a shaded part, between Threlland's north-eastern hills and the coastline. "This! What is this?"
Rak leaned forward. "That is Barak-nor."
"What is it?"
Rak looked dazed. "It is nothing. A wasteland."
Gawain sighed. "What sort of wasteland?"
"Wasteland. Nothing. The remains of a great open mine. Centuries ago, rich ore was unearthed there. It was stripped clean. Nothing remains now but…wasteland. Barak-nor means 'gaping wound' in our tongue. It is a legacy of more…voracious times. We are not proud of it. Why? Why is it important? There is nothing there, nothing grows but tufts of spikeweed."
"And here?" Gawain's blade swung to the northwest, beyond the tip of northern Elvendere.
Rak shrugged. "I know not."
"Allazar?" Gawain commanded.
The wizard stepped forward, stared at the tip of Gawain's blade. "Nothing. A barren wasteland, frozen in winter, baked in summer. An arid and rocky nothingland that runs clear to frozen plains of north-western Goria. That is Empire land you mark, it has no name that I know of."
"Rak. I would have you send a private message to Martan of Tellek."
"Very well…if that is what you wish."
"It is. Now. The message is simple: as soon as possible."
"It shall be done."
"Good. Then make ready. We leave for Castle Town as soon as your horse is saddled."
Rak gasped. "But King Eryk has yet to reply…"
"We cannot wait. And neither can Threlland…"
The door creaked open, and a worried-looking group sidled in. Merrin, clutching a sleepy-eyed Travak. Elayeen, flanked by Meeya and Valin, all staring wide-eyed, anxious. Gawain noted them from the periphery of his dark-tinted vision, but did not look up. Instead, his terrifying black eyes flicked across the map, and down, and up again, noting the borders, the features, the names. At the bottom, in the southwest, someone, quite possibly Rak himself, had shaded in the high plateau, eradicating the name "Raheen" which had once adorned the region.
"I do not understand, Longsword." Allazar said quietly, fearfully. "What drives you with such urgency?"
Gawain stabbed at the Teeth. "They do."
"But we have time, my friend…"
"No. We do not. We do not have eight years, or five, or three, or one. They are already here."
29. Ire
"You have seen them?" Rak asked quietly.
"I do not have to. I know Morloch, and what he has set in motion. We must mobilize now."
"With respect, my brother, Eryk of Threlland will need much greater persuasion than your dark ire and intuition."
Gawain turned his black gaze upon his friend. "You will not come?"
Rak held up a pacifying hand. "I did not say so. But consider. He knows you not. To the Crown, you are but a fearsome warrior charged with bloodlust against Morloch and the Ramoths. The latter are destroyed. The former, the wizards say, powerless. Victory celebrations are over, and the people go about their business happy and relieved. And you would stride into Threlland's Great Hall and say 'mobilize your army, Eryk, for the enemy are already upon us.' Without proof, what is the king to think?"
"None would listen to me," Allazar announced, "Even though I spoke truth. Longsword, if you cannot persuade us of this new threat, then how can you hope to sway Threlland's Crown? Or any of the others?"
Gawain glowered. "You doubt me?"
Allazar shuddered.
"We do not doubt you, my brother," Rak soothed. "But you must try to see through our eyes, and not through the black rage of your own."
"Then saddle your horse, Rak of Tarn. I shall take you to the Barak-nor, and show you the fate that awaits your people. Then I shall take you west, into this imperial nothingland that has no name, and show you the rest.” Gawain stabbed at the map with his sword.
Elayeen gasped. "You would leave, Traveller? And go so far?"
Gawain's head swung slowly around, his dreadful stare piercing and cold. "When last you spoke to me, my Lady, you called me by a different name, and bade me leave you alone."
Elayeen blinked, her lips trembling, and her hand reached out to hold Meeya's.
"Longsword, by the Teeth!" Allazar protested.
Gawain eyed the wizard, and the longsword's blade twitched.
"Cut me down if you wish!" Allazar pointed his finger accusingly, "But this rage of yours must be calmed! To speak to your Lady thus! Have you lost your senses?"
"I have regained them, wizard. Have a care. I know you, and whence you and your kind came. I have killed wizards, and could easily acquire a taste for it."
Merrin gasped, and clutched Travak closer to her.
Rak stepped forward. "Traveller. This does no good. There should be no fear between friends, yet you present a terrifying aspect. What has brought this to pass?"
Gawain drew in a deep breath. "There." He stabbed the map, at the Barak-nor. "And there." he stabbed the wasteland region northwest of Elvendere. "And," he raised the sword, and swung its tip slowly around to point directly at Allazar. "And there. Three reasons for the ire you dread so much."
"I?" Allazar gasped, stunned, "Longsword, what have I done?"
"Nothing!" Gawain hissed. "As you and your kind have for so long! While the Ramoths crept slowly south, spreading their vile cult, you and your kind sat, and whimpered, and advocated nothing! Raheen destroyed. Still you advocated nothing, but with desperate fervour! And all the while, the lands held apart, subjugated, oppressed, distracted by this great chanting decoy, Morloch's armies stole in!"
"Traveller…" Elayeen whispered.
Gawain ignored her, directing his rage along his blade, poised now at Allazar's throat. "And your 'brethren', Allazar? What of them? 'We have brethren in Elvendere' you said to me. The same brethren who kept the knowledge of throth from me. The same brethren who have poisoned the minds of elves for so long, keeping them shut up within their forest, spreading lies, that to meet a Threllander is to meet death. That no human may set foot in Elvenheth…or be suffered to enter the forest…why? Why, Allazar?"
"I…do not know, Longsword, I have not spoken with my elven brethren in so long…"
"You have not spoken?" Gawain's sword eased forward a hair's breadth. "The whitebeard I slew there wore a lens about his neck, Allazar, his body painted with dark symbols. Morloch's symbols. How many more of your 'brethren' follow Morloch, Allazar? How many whitebeard bastard spies sit behind kings and gloat, and tell their master Morloch all?"
Allazar stood fast, though his breathing was rapid and there was great fear in his eyes. "I know not of these symbols, or this lens you speak of! I was not there, Longsword, when you slew the wizard at Faranthroth!"
"I was." Meeya whispered. "I saw these things."
"Why, Allazar?" Gawain's voice was chill, and flat. "Why would your brethren wish to hold Elvendere and Threlland apart? Why would they wish no humans in Elvendere, much less Elvenheth? Why would they wish a royal crown of Elvendere dead rather than joined to a human?"
"In truth, Longsword…I do not know."