"And I am uncomfortable sitting thus. Longsword is more than capable of taking care of himself and his Lady, but we must post a watch. I shall take the first, and if our elven friends will take the second?"
"I will take the second." Meeya said softly, "And Valin the third."
Gawain let go of Elayeen's hand, and silently drew the longsword. A moment later his blade sat upon Rak's shoulder.
"It is too late for a watch, my friends. You are all dead."
Elayeen stepped into the camp, and removed her mask.
"By the Teeth, Longsword!" Allazar gasped, "Will there be no end to your startling lessons?"
"There will be, wizard, when you are dead, or I can no longer surprise you thus.” Gawain sheathed his blade.
"You are skilled in such matters." Allazar grumbled. "I doubt the enemy will be."
"And my Lady Elayeen? Would you say she is skilled in such matters? Yet she could have slain you all with very little help from me."
"I shall take first watch." Sarek grumbled, his face sour. "As I should have the moment we made camp."
Gawain watched the officer stride off into the darkness, sword drawn.
"I believe you have offended our Captain's pride." Rak said.
"A small price to pay if it makes him more alert. You should be grateful for that while you sleep."
"Yet, this is not hostile territory."
"Neither was Raheen." Gawain sighed as he sat on his bedroll.
Elayeen sat beside him, pressing as close as she dared, and when Gawain did not pull away, she rested her head on his shoulder.
"And," Gawain continued softly, "Neither were the plains of Juria, that night when first we met, friend Rak."
"True." Rak sighed. "I thank you for recalling the horror."
"I kept you alive then. I will not return to Lady Merrin without you now."
Lightning flickered briefly far to the west, the drizzle fell heavier, and in time, they slept.
32. Barak-nor
After ten days and nights, the small group of elves, dwarves, and the human whitebeard, had learned much from Gawain. And most of it they learned with distaste, for the lessons were ignoble, devious, and downright dishonourable. During the day, Gawain would move ahead, and lay in wait. Not once did they spot him before he launched his ambush. He sent the others ahead too, including Allazar, that they might practice the foul art of ambush like cowardly brigands. That, according to Gawain, was something that wizards should be good at.
Allazar was good at it, in truth. But Gwyn was not fooled by the whitebeard's magic, and Gawain was able with her acute senses to detect the wizard and to plant a shaft within inches of his head in the tree where Allazar stood all but invisible.
At night, all were tasked with leaving the camp and trying to penetrate its watch and defences. At this, the wizard was hopeless. Whilst he could not be seen, Gwyn always alerted them, and the whitebeard seemed incapable of walking silently. The thalangard and Elayeen improved in leaps and bounds, and armed as they were with longbows would have been able to approach within range easily to pick off their unsuspecting targets. But by the eighth night all in the party had learned to dress in darkening cloths, and to make use of protective cover in their camps. No targets were thus presented. More, they followed Gawain's lead, and smeared their faces and hands and hair with dark mud.
Soon, Gawain took to leaving Gwyn a good distance from the camp, so that his companions would not come to rely on the charger's uncanny senses and unerring alerts. That made life on the route along the northern slopes of Threlland very interesting indeed.
Gawain had to admit that they were improving, and slowly becoming what he disparagingly called "somewhat effective". Against Ramoths, he said, they would make fine longsword warriors. Against Morloch's army, he offered no opinion, for he grudgingly admitted that he himself had no experience against such a force.
Still they moved ever eastward, parallel with the farak gorin and the Teeth. And by the time they reached the Mallak Spur, a great rock outcropping that plunged from the high Threlland hills down to the farak gorin, all except Allazar could be relied upon in matters of security. Not that Gawain truly trusted any of them, and Allazar's principle weakness was his lack of weapons and his lack of desire to use any even if he'd had them.
Once they'd rounded the Spur, a difficult passage which touched upon the farak gorin itself, Gawain called a halt, and they made an early camp.
"From this point forward," Gawain announced quietly, "There are no more lessons. I shall ride ahead, and survey the land. When we swing south towards the Barak-nor, we must all of us take great care. If Morloch's men still trickle in from across the farak gorin, we may find ourselves with the enemy before us and behind."
"If enemy there truly be." Rak pointed out. "But it is wisest to assume the worst case."
"It is." Gawain asserted.
"No more lessons then?" Allazar said quietly.
"No more lessons. If anyone lurks in the shadows, it will not be me testing you, so kill."
"It may be a Threlland miner." Sarek said softly.
"Or a Morloch watchman. If you stand and shout 'who goes there?' the answer you receive might be a yard-long shaft in the chest."
A stillness settled over them. If before, any of them had thought Gawain was playing a game with them, now they knew he did not. It was unheard of to shoot blindly into the dark at an approaching stranger, who might be a helpless traveller in need of aid or food. What Gawain was ordering them to do ran contrary to all civilised principles. It was one thing to practice stealth and the foul arts of brigandry and assassins, quite another to leave the classroom and then shoot to kill without question.
"This does not sit well, my brother." Rak sighed.
"Neither will news of your death, should I have to deliver it to your Lady and your son." Gawain said, his voice deliberately cruel. "You doubt the presence of Morloch's army in the Barak-nor. Very well, that is your choice. That is why we are here, to prove or deny its existence. But ask yourself this, friend Rak, and ask Captain Sarek: Who would venture here from across the farak gorin, and what Threllander would choose to dwell in the regions of the Barak-nor?"
Sarek shrugged. "I can think of none."
"Very well," Rak sighed, conceding to Gawain's argument.
"I will scout ahead and around." Gawain announced. "Sarek, take first watch. When I return, I shall come in to camp from the eastern path, near the edge of the farak gorin. Anyone approaching from any other direction will not be me. You know what to do."
Nods, from all of them.
"I shall leave Gwyn, and go on foot. Pay heed to her signals, if any."
Gawain cast a quick glance at the pallid sun setting dimly through hazy clouds in the west, and then turned eastward, striding off purposefully.
He walked for the best part of an hour, scanning the landscape around him, using the cover of trees on the gentle slopes as cover lest prying eyes would observe him across the glistening farak gorin. There was little sound, beyond the breezes and the rustling of evergreen branches. Few birds, fewer animals, though he did see signs of hares and rabbit. It was odd, but when the breezes from the north died down, there was a curious, almost acrid, earthy scent to the air, and it was neither pleasant nor welcoming.
He remembered the visions he had seen when he'd smashed the Lens of Ramoth…thousands of black-clad men and women attacking the Teeth with hammers. Such relentless tenacity would make for fearsome warriors, and he secretly wished that Rak would be proven correct in his doubting Gawain's assertions. But ahead, perhaps another hour's stealthy walk through the trees, the Black Hills gave way to a vast pool of bitchrock that stretched as far as the eastern cliffs and the ocean beyond. Soon, they would swing south, and to the Barak-nor. And when they did, the going would be slower, taxing the patience and nerves of men, women, and horses. Gawain could only hope that his lessons had been well and truly learned.