“Fetch the litter!” Tyrane commanded quietly, fearing lest he waken the elfin queen.
“My lady is awake, Captain.” Gawain croaked, “But stricken. She… she cannot see…”
The horror on all their faces was plain to see, the Callodon captain’s most of all. “My lord,” he began, “My lord I passed your lady the letter, from your hand to mine, mine to hers and no other…she insisted on going up, my lord…”
The litter was brought, and Gawain laid Elayeen upon it. At once the whitesleeves was by Elayeen’s side, eyes flitting here and there, checking for visible wounds and gently easing Gawain aside.”
“I do not think there are broken bones… except perhaps her left hand…” Gawain muttered.
“Take the lady to large room at the inn, at once, and keep the litter on the level!” the whitesleeves softly commanded, and Elayeen was borne away.
“Eyem arrak, Eyem oonscammed!” Allazar called, seemingly quite irritated while the battlefield healer turned the wizard’s head, the better to see the cut which had closed his left eye.
“He struck his head,” Gawain announced feebly. “And since then has spoken only in this strange tongue. I think it is the language of wizards, I… I do not know.”
“My lord,” Tyrane gasped, “What occurred? What happened up there?”
Gawain, his face gaunt and haunted, stared into the captain’s dark eyes, and heard himself saying as if from afar: “We were attacked, Captain. By a dark wizard on a winged beast, Morloch’s servant. We prevailed.”
There were sharp intakes of breath all around, and then the whitesleeves ordered Allazar be taken to the inn at once, and ran ahead, clearly judging Elayeen to be the patient most in need of his attentions.
Tyrane noted the shock lurking deep within Gawain’s eyes, and after issuing a few curt orders to his men in respect of the horses and dismissing them about their duties, gently took the younger man’s elbow and began guiding him towards the inn.
“This way, my lord. You need rest. Your lady is in good hands, Healer Turlock is perhaps the finest of the guards’ whitesleeves in the King’s service. There’s nothing more you can do now but rest and recover your strength.”
“The horses…”
“Are well tended. Come.”
And Gawain allowed the captain to steer him gently towards the inn.
He ate without appetite, drank without thirst, and tasted neither the food nor the ale placed before him. From time to time Gawain heard Allazar call out in that now-familiar but alien tongue from behind the closed door of the room the wizard had occupied before ascending the Pass to Raheen. From time to time the whitesleeves emerged from one door, presumably the ‘large room’ wherein Elayeen lay unseen, strode quickly to Allazar’s room and entered, shutting the door firmly behind him. Gawain could do nothing but sit.
“There has been no word from the north.” Tyrane said softly. “Not since your lady arrived. No sooner had she dismounted than I presented myself, and your compliments, and your letter to her. She was very gracious, and anxious to hear news of you and the wizard, and tore open the letter immediately. I reassured her that you were both well, and had already ascended the pass, leaving before dawn.”
Gawain heard the words, and in his mind’s eye could see Elayeen and her escort arriving at the outpost exactly as Tyrane described. She had told Gawain as much, that night in the alcove when they’d simply held each other close, speaking softly so as not to wake Allazar.
“But your lady’s expression became firm, and she ordered a fresh horse be readied from the stables, and water and food packed. I did my best, my lord, but in the face of such resolve and the absence of any authority… there was nothing I could do to stop her.”
“It’s not your fault, Captain.” Gawain sighed. “None of it is.”
“She practically flew up the Pass, my lord. You should’ve seen her. I think we all fell in love with her at that, at the sight of her charging up that perilous way where none of us ourselves would dare set foot at any pace. You should’ve seen her.”
Dusk was falling when Healer Turlock approached the table where Gawain and Tyrane sat in silence. At once Gawain’s head snapped up, his eyes wide and attentive.
“My lord, Captain.” Turlock announced, his voice rich and unhurried, utterly professional.
“How is my lady?” Gawain asked, his voice flat in comparison.
Without waiting for permission, the healer drew up a chair and sat facing the two men.
“Your lady has two broken fingers in the left hand, the little finger and adjacent. These I have bound and in truth there’s not much other treatment to be recommended for that in our present surroundings. She has also suffered multiple bruises, mostly to her right arm and particularly the right shoulder, the result of a heavy impact no doubt.
“However, it was the bruise to your lady’s head that gave me cause for most concern, above the left eye. Yet on closer examination it appears to be trivial, if an injury to the head can ever truly be described as such. I do not think the bruise or any other impact to the head is the cause of your lady’s blindness, though Elvendere has mystic healers whose abilities far exceed my own humble knowledge.
“I have to say, my lord, I believe that once you and your companions have rested and given yourselves time to overcome the shock of the events to which you have all been exposed, you should make at once for Elvendere and seek the advice of the see-eelan healers there. I would also like your lady to rest for at least two days and nights, and the wizard also, so that I may be certain that the injuries they have suffered to their heads are no more serious than my examinations have revealed thus far.”
Gawain simply nodded.
“I believe your lady’s blindness and her apparent deep shock and withdrawal are the result of your encounter with the dark wizard you mentioned on arrival. I’ve treated many head wounds, my lord, from the practice field to the tourney ring, jousting and sparring to injuries sustained in falls and in combat and more. I have seen cases where partial and temporary blindness resulted from an apparently minor injury, but the effects faded quickly and sight was quickly restored.”
“Then Elayeen’s blindness could be just such a case.” Gawain exclaimed.
But Turlock did not seem to share his sudden hope. “In each of those cases the injury to the head was considerably greater than a slight bruise, and the cases were very few. My lord, the bruise to your lady’s brow is slight, barely a discolouration. And her pupils are fixed and closed, as if constantly exposed to a dazzling light. They do not respond to any amount of shade nor any variation in light I have contrived to produce. I am sorry to say, my lord, I have not seen the like in any other patient I have attended.”
Gawain’s heart sank.
“But,” Captain Tyrane added firmly, “If this affliction is the result of dark magic, the see-eelan of Elvendere will likely be effective.”
Turlock nodded his agreement. “As for the wizard, his case too is likely to respond better to the see-eelan than any treatment I can offer. I have treated the cut and opened his swollen eye, cleaned and stitched the wound. Trivial is not the word I would use to describe his injury. That he has suffered a considerable concussion should be obvious to all within earshot of his sudden cries. He is dazed, and badly bruised, though he does appear to respond to questions, which is encouraging. It would be useful if he could be persuaded to part with that heavy staff he carries, at least then he might find sleep a little more comfortable. But he refuses to part with it, and when the men tried to prise it from his grasp, the ends began sparking alarmingly.”
“He is the Keeper of The Staff,” Gawain said weakly, as if that explained everything, “I gave orders it must not fall into enemy hands. I think that’s why he is guarding it thus.”
“I see,” the healer frowned, “Perhaps a fixed obsession which survived the concussion. Though the language is worrying. He seems to understand the common tongue and once or twice appeared genuinely startled that I could not understand him. But,” Turlock sighed, “Brains are beyond the wit of mortal men to understand, for if they were simple enough to be understood, we would be too simple to care. There is no telling how serious a stout blow to the head may be, hence my advice that neither your lady nor your wizard be moved for at least two days and two nights, and I will observe them both closely.”