"I do.” Gawain whispered. "I do.” His eyes narrowed, and the tip of his sword slid forward a little more.
"Traveller…" Elayeen said quietly, her voice quavering.
Gawain's eyes remained locked on the wizard's. "Why would so many of them, these 'brothers' of yours, advocate nothing, knowing what lies behind the Teeth?"
"I know not…"
"Traveller…" Elayeen gasped as the blade touched Allazar's throat.
"Why are you so alone, Allazar, so alone, when all of your 'brothers' stand united? Why are you, of all wizards, the only one who would profess to aid my cause?"
Allazar swallowed. Travak began crying, the tension in the room tangible.
"I am young, Longsword." Allazar whispered hoarsely. "In the eyes of my brethren, I have not acquired their wisdom."
A trickle of blood suddenly sprung at the tip of the blade, and Gawain's arm tensed.
"Mithroth!" Elayeen cried, and tore her hand from Meeya's to rush forward, her hands on Gawain's chest, pushing him backwards a pace. "No!"
Gawain stared down at her, saw the pleading in her eyes, but still the dark rage held him fast, the sword raised, pointing still at Allazar.
"No, mithroth, please! You cannot do this!"
"Why not?" Gawain hissed, staring at the wizard.
Elayeen reached out, her hand trembling, and gently gripped Gawain's forearm, pressing down, trying to lower his blade. "These are your friends! Mithroth, these are your friends and this is not right!"
"No wizard has ever been a friend to the races of man." Gawain snarled, his arm rock-steady, his gaze fixed on Allazar. "They would have you dead, weeks ago, in Faranthroth, and you defend them?"
"Not them, mithroth, not them!" Elayeen pleaded, softly, "But him. He is your friend…but for him, I would be dead. Was it not Allazar who told you of throth? Was it not your friend who watched over you? But for him, mithroth, could I touch you thus?” She reached up, her slender fingers in his hair, tenderly drawing his head down so that his dread gaze fell on her.
Strange black aquamire swam in his eyes, yet she did not draw away. Gawain stared deep into the hazel-green eyes, and he saw his own reflection in them. A tiny jolt of something seemed to flow from her fingertips into his cheek, and ran through him like Jurian brandy on a cold winter's day. Still he held the sword high, pointing at the motionless wizard.
"Do not do this, mithroth, I beg you." Elayeen whispered.
The sword dipped an inch.
"Please…" She whispered again.
The sword fell, and pointed at the map. Gawain looked at Allazar, then at Rak. "They are here."
"I am here, mithroth," Elayeen whispered. "I am here." And she drew his head down, and kissed him as his sword clattered to the floor.
For Gawain, the world seemed to float in a black mist which clouded his vision, while gentle hands guided him to a chair, and caressed his brow. He heard his heart beating in his ears, crying out for blood, but the cries grew fainter, and he thought he heard a distant familiar laughter at the windows and in the chimney, wafting in on northern breezes. Then, like waking from a dream, he found himself in Rak's study, Elayeen kneeling beside him, stroking his hair and gazing at him with profound love and yearning. The sword lay on the floor, on the map, still pointing towards Allazar.
A goblet of steaming mulled wine appeared before him, and when he looked up, it was Rak holding it, his expression rich with concern.
Elayeen took the wine, and lifted the goblet to Gawain's lips. He drank, and felt the warmth flood through him, and it was then he realised how cold he was, and how damp his clothes, and remembered the night spent at the Point, pacing and thinking…
"Mithroth, are you hungry?" Elayeen whispered.
"No. I am tired."
"Then you shall rest." Rak smiled.
"No. They are here. In truth."
Elayeen glanced up at Rak and Allazar, worried.
"Where are Merrin and the thalangard?" Gawain suddenly asked, taking the goblet from Elayeen's hand.
"Meeya and Valin are taking care of Gwyn, mithroth."
"And Merrin is preparing your room, Traveller." Rak announced. "You must rest, and the inn is noisy at this time of day."
Gawain frowned. "It is early."
"It is."
"You still do not believe me." Gawain sighed. "We have no time for rest."
He tried to stand, but Elayeen pressed him back into the chair. "Stay still, mithroth, a little while longer."
"I am not struck down by some dread illness," Gawain protested, recalling his brother's words so long ago. "I need to show you the map."
Allazar bent, and slid the map from under the shimmering black blade of the weapon held so recently against his throat. "Here, Longsword." He offered, his voice still strained.
Gawain pointed to the Barak-nor, and to the wasteland in the Gorian Empire. "There. All the time that the Ramoths were trickling into the southlands, a flow of Morloch's men crossed the scree. I and Martan saw the ruts where their wagons passed."
Rak frowned, and Allazar shook his head. Gawain laughed, prompting more concern from Elayeen still kneeling by his side. The door swung open to admit Merrin and the thalangard. They too seemed concerned by the longsword warrior's laughter.
"Do you not see?" Gawain said, "It is priceless."
"I do not see, my brother." Rak said quietly. "Perhaps later, when you are rested…"
"His plan is brilliant. While his aquamire slaves smash away at the northern slopes of the Teeth, his troops trickle in across the great rip beneath the mountains. And possibly even from around the far western reaches of the Teeth, across the frozen northlands of the Gorian Empire. While we in the south quake in our boots, and hide from babbling Ramoths, and cower in dread of Morloch's Breath, his army trickles in."
"Why? You say that the Ramoths were an elaborate deception, but why?" Allazar asked, fearfully.
"Of course they were. Why? So that the army could enter the southlands unseen and unsuspected. They gather and wait, at the Barak-nor and in the Gorian wasteland. Then, when the Teeth are breached, the two armies emerge from hiding. They advance across the farak gorin, and hold the line, while the flow of dark soldiers spilling through the breach pools on the scree, and musters, and draws ranks behind them. Then, the first wave opens at the middle, spreading east into Threlland and west into Elvendere, while the main body floods down the Jurian plains, and into Callodon."
"A sound military tactic." Rak grudgingly agreed. "But how can you know this?"
Gawain sighed. "A company of elven archers could hold the breach from the safety of the scree. Shoot down every dark soldier that ventured onto the south face of the mountain."
"Agreed." Rak concurred, studying the map.
"Which is why Morloch has worked so long to keep Elvendere in isolation. Would elven archers rush from the trees to aid Threlland?"
Elayeen stared at the map, and then at Gawain. "No." She whispered. "They would not."
"No. Would they aid Juria? By the time the main body of Morloch's army marched south onto the plains, it would be too late."
Rak and Allazar gazed at the map studiously, almost unaware that Merrin and the thalangard had gathered and were sitting on the floor with them.
"With the southern kingdoms oppressed and living in fear and dread, there would be no opposition. Only if Threlland and Elvendere were allies could the flow at the breach be stemmed. But they are not allies, and are still kept apart by lies and prejudice. That is why the whitebeards in Elvendere kept throth from me. Had I known the danger to Elayeen, I would never have left her side. In time, all elves would come to know of my journeys, and of my friends here in Threlland. If the throth of a royal crown of Elvendere declared Threlland peaceful, and friend to all elves, how would that sit with the lies spread by elvish whitebeards?"
"I cannot believe all the brethren in Elvendere are Morloch's." Allazar protested meekly.