Allazar sighed. "When first I saw you, Longsword, you stood like death facing Callodon guardsmen, your sword drawn, and ready to die. I remember thinking: 'there is a youth for whom death holds no meaning, and may even be a blessing.' Later, in Juria, when I warned you of the Black Riders and their charmed armour, you cried out 'my arrows are tipped with stone, and my blade is far from ordinary.' It occurred to me later as I made my way east, that only one land's foresters tipped their shafts with stone."
"Raheen. I was taught it as a youth by an old man who took me fishing from time to time."
"I knew then why you were so careless of your own life against the Ramoths. I wondered, how would I feel, were I to discover my world in ashes? What would I do? Well, now my world is shattered, Longsword. The D'ith Sek, the first order of my brethren, is tainted with Morloch's stinking lust for aquamire. All I held true, and noble, all that gave me strength and purpose, is swept asunder in an instant. It never ceased to hurt me deeply when you railed against all wizards, and when ordinary men held me in such low regard. I could not understand why the races of Man would treat us with such contempt, we who have worked so long and hard for you all. Yet now I know. The thalangard Meeya was right, that day in the Barak-nor. Only wizards could have made so vile a thing as we saw. And I am a wizard."
Gawain shrugged. "That rather depends on your point of view. According to Joyen, you're not a wizard at all, if I understood him correctly."
Allazar choked back a chuckle that bordered on a sob. "What would he know, the cursed whitebeard bastard."
"Cursed dead whitebeard bastard." Gawain said gently. "And speaking of which, about all I can offer by way of comfort is this: Just because you're not dead yet, means you aren't my enemy."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. I recall the days after Raheen, and wandering Callodon still caked in its ash. No amount of comfort could have reached me then, save for the total destruction of those responsible for my loss. You might consider who it is that corrupts the noble dream you have held dear for so long, for he lies yonder, across the Teeth, and I intend to vex the blackhearted bastard with every breath I take, including my last. Some company on that journey would be welcome, Allazar."
"Aye. Aye, Longsword, some company you shall have."
Days and nights in Tarn were a constant clatter of hooves upon cobbles as fast riders bore dispatches, and slow riders moved to and from hastily-erected barracks. An air of grim determination pervaded all hearths and homes. Lovers loved with intensity, passion fuelled by the knowledge of desperate times ahead. Old disputes and older feuds were forgotten, and new friendships forged in the fires of imminent war. That the enemy was already occupying Threlland soil was a shame that all wished to redress, regardless of the fact that the land occupied was shame in itself. Yet great measures were made to conceal the garrison from any watchful eyes that might peer across the farak gorin.
Soon, even ordinary men and women took to wearing blouses and tunics open at the front from neck to navel save for a single button, and those that didn't were regarded with such suspicion that buttons and lacing were soon undone that breastbone and midriff were exposed for all to see. It did not take long for the fashion to spread all across Threlland, particularly with increasing sunshine and warmer weather.
Soon word reached Lord Rak and Gawain that two wizards had been slain, one in the Castle Town and one in the southern provinces bordering Mornland. Both had struggled fiercely against having their robes parted, and paid with their lives. Both were found covered with strange symbols inked all over their torsos, and a later search revealed black aquamire lenses in their chambers.
Nor did the fashion for wearing such revealing dress stop at the borders of the Black Hills. Mornlander border-guards, on learning of the reason for the strange new apparel, soon took to paying close attention to travellers crossing into their land, and of course Jurian guardsmen soon followed suit.
Gawain was astounded at how readily the common people quietly took to this admirable precaution, and steadfastly went about their business with nothing but defence of their realm foremost in their minds. If kings could be persuaded to act likewise, the Ramoths would never have passed south of the Teeth, and nor would Morloch's army.
Gawain was also astounded by the depth of his feelings for Elayeen. Once, while he was assisting Sarek in training regular forces in the use of darkening cloths and camouflage, he was obliged to spend a full day and a night on the slopes, several hours' ride from Tarn. While he lurked in the shadows in the darkest of hours, stealing up on any Threllandmen he could see to tap them on the shoulder and pronounce them 'dead', he found himself yearning for her with an ache that was physical. He shuddered, and wondered what agony it must have been for her to have been parted from him for so long.
Then a sudden wave of calm washed over him, and hours later, just before dawn, as he crept towards a clump of ferns from which he'd heard the slightest of unusual sounds, he smiled behind his blackcloth mask.
"You're dead, my Lady." he whispered, as she rose and shook her hair free of the black scarf.
"Actually you are, miheth, I shot you with my longbow when you 'killed' the poor guardsman down by that needletree."
"Damn. That's twice you've had me then. I must be getting old."
"Old indeed if you've lost count at two, mithroth," Elayeen smiled impishly, pulling down his mask and kissing him softly.
"Shameless wench. What are you doing here?" Gawain grinned, hugging her and pulling her down into the ferns.
"You are mithroth, and you were missing me, were you not?"
"You're dead, your Majesties." a familiar voice announced, as Sarek tapped them both on the shoulder.
"Dwarfspit." Gawain sighed. "I thought I killed you earlier."
"That was Corporal Jak. I was up the next tree along."
41. Spring
"What of Arrun, and Mornland?" Gawain asked quietly as Allazar grinned with excitement.
The wizard's expression fell. "That I do not know. The message is simply that both Callodon and Juria journey to Ferdan, and would meet you there."
Rak sipped his ale as Gawain paced in the main room. "Traveller, this is news indeed. I shall send word to Eryk immediately."
"Yet I feel uneasy." Gawain muttered, and Elayeen caught hold of his arm as he passed and pulled him onto the chair beside hers.
"Two of the southland kings journey to Ferdan, mithroth. Threlland will too, doubtless. And if Meeya and Valin have been successful, so too will my father. This is cause for celebration, is it not?"
Gawain shrugged, yet looked frustrated. "In truth. But still I am uneasy. Word was sent to Arrun and Mornland, Rak?"
"It was. And when word reaches them as it surely must that Juria and Callodon have agreed to meet in Ferdan, then I have no doubt they will recognise the significance and make the journey themselves. What ails you? This is as your Lady says, my friend, cause for celebration. Will you not at least drink with us?"
Gawain sighed, and took the tankard offered him by Allazar. The ale was dark and bitter, and as he drank, a shudder ran the length of his spine.
"Miheth, what troubles you so?"
"In truth I do not know. Perhaps it is Elvendere? So much depends on Thal-Hak attending the Council. Yet these past weeks I have felt…frustrated."