Vanidar looked from one to the other of the company, but when his gaze passed to Arin, she shook her head. "Silverleaf, as much as this felling of the nine pains me, I cannot sheer away from my first duty." She turned to the others. "Ye all go with Vanidar and the Lian to render vengeance for this terrible thing the Foul Folk have done; thy presence will let the Rupt know the Dylvana, too, will not allow such deeds to go unpunished. But I… I must instead fare to Aralan, fare to Darda Vrka to seek the advice of the Wizard Dalavar. It was the charge of mine own Coron for me to follow the trail of the green stone and try to set aside its doom."
Vanidar clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles shone white. Then he turned to Aldor. "Arin is right. As much as I grieve at the felling of the nine, as much as I crave retribution, I cannot be thy warleader. We were charged by Coron Remar in Darda Erynian to accompany Arin on her mission, and accompany her I will."
Silverleaf looked at the others, and one by one they sighed and nodded their heads.
Aider's gaze swept over them all. "So be it," he declared. He turned to the rider. "Loric, sound the muster. I would ride in force unto the Grimwall marches."
As Loric's bugle sounded the call to arms, Arin stepped to Silverleaf's side. "I am sorry, Alor Vanidar, for thou didst engender this woodland, and if any should seek vengeance for the slaying, it should be thee."
With all of her goods packed, Arin took one last sweeping look about her quarters in the guest lodge to make certain she had left nothing behind. Then she stepped through the open doorway and onto the porch of the long, low, thatch-roofed lodge, where her companions waited. Little was said as slowly they walked toward the stables, passing Lian dwellings, where inside they could see Elven warriors-male and female alike-girting themselves for war. Now and again a rider thundered past on an urgent mission, and Arin's heart hammered in her chest. Is this clamor in any way tethered to my Seeing? She sighed and continued walking, her question unanswered, for at this time there was no way of knowing.
The stables were practically empty-few horses and little tack remaining. As did the others, Arin bridled and saddled her own mount and filled her saddlebags with grain and affixed her traveling gear to the ties behind the rear cantle. At last all was ready and Arin and her escort slowly rode out and away from Wood's-heart and into the twilit forest, while behind Rael watched them go, a troubled look on her face.
Into the airy silence of lofty Eldwood they rode, the horses' hooves making little sound on the mossy way. After a while Arin looked back; nought but towering trees met her gaze. She faced front once more, following behind the others, heading for the ferry at Olorin Isle and to Caer Lindor beyond. At that fortress on the Rissanin River they would provision themselves for the long journey to the land of Aralan and shaggy Darda Vrka within. There they would seek out Dalavar to see if he knew aught of the green stone, aught of that token of power, and whether or not he knew of a way to avert its terrible doom.
CHAPTER 13
Token of power?" Despite the amount Alos had drunk, his speech was not slurred by ale. "And just what might one of these tokens be, hey?"
Aiko snorted, but Arin said, "Something empowered to fulfill a destiny."
"Eh?" Alos shook his head. "Empowered? Destiny? You speak in riddles, and I need another drink." He held out the empty pitcher, his blind white eye fixed on Arin.
Aiko growled and shifted a sword, its blade glinting wickedly. Alos hurriedly thunked the empty pitcher back to the table and held out his hands and whined, "No offense, Lady. I meant to give no offense. It's just that posers work up a thirst… and tokens of power are posers all right, what with their destinies and dooms and all."
Egil shifted in his bed. "I would also like to hear more about these tokens. From what you say, my engel-my Lady, it seems they, too, carry wyrds… as do we all."
"Wyrds?" Aiko raised an eyebrow.
"Aye," answered Egil, his good blue eye glittering in the lamplight, for eve had fallen during Arin's telling and the room was now illuminated by a soft, yellow glow. "Wyrds: that which drives men in the deeds they do… or the thing that awaits them in the end."
"Hmph. Just men? You grunt like the priests of Hodakka. Baka-gojona dokemono." Aiko turned her face and stared out the window.
"Dost thou believe thou hast a wyrd, Egil?"
"Aye, Lady Arin: a spear through my heart, a sword thrust, a death at sea, or some such. What it is I cannot say, but surely a wyrd awaits me."
Aiko again fixed him with her dark gaze. "And what if you die of old age in bed?"
Egil barked a laugh. "Me? Die in bed? Not likely."
Arin cast a glance at Aiko and then turned to Egil. "Mayhap thy wyrd has already come to pass, Egil. Mayhap it did so in Jute."
Egil raised a hand to his bandages but did not reply.
Alos peered into his empty mug and sighed. "Wyrds I understand. -Oh, not that I believe in them… But these tokens of power, well, they seem to be another thing altogether." He looked up at Arin. "Just what are they and how do you know?"
All eyes shifted to Arin. She turned up a hand and said, "Tokens of power-at times hard to recognize, at other times known to all. They can be for Good or Ilclass="underline" Gelvin's Doom was a token of power for Evil-a feartoken. So, too, was the Black Throne of Madron's Hall. Those for Good are sometimes known: one is the Kammerling, Aden's Hammer, destined to slay the greatest Dragon of all-though where the Kammerling is, none can say. Too, there is a sword in Adonar, Bale by name, and it would appear to fit the mold, though what its destiny may be, none can say. Others are unknown and seem to be one thing-jewels, poniards, rings, a trinket-but are truly something else altogether. Many look as if they hold no power at all, until, that is, they manifest their doom."
Alos took a deep breath and blew it out and shook his head in puzzlement. But Egil said, "What if I bore one of these tokens of power-say, a ring or some such-but when the time came I did not know how to use it, or tried to use it but failed? What then of the destiny?"
"Aye," blurted Alos, "what if Egil failed?" Alos held out an apologetic hand of denial toward the younger man abed. "Not that you are likely to fail, Egil. No offense. No offense."
They both looked at Arin.
The Dylvana returned their gazes. "What then of the destiny if thou didst fail to use a token as it was meant to be?"
They both nodded.
"A token of power seems to have ways of fulfilling its own destiny," answered Arin. "If thou didst fail, still would the token strive to achieve its doom. By another's hand, if not by thine.
"Aye, I'll grant thee, tokens of power are mysterious things, perhaps guided by Adon from afar, or by Gyphon… or Elwydd or Garlon or any of the others-who can say? Yet none but perhaps the gods know for certain which things are tokens… until their ordained work comes to pass.
"Hear me, though, for this I do believe: the green stone is a token of power, yet one which I pray never fulfills its destiny."
Silence fell over them all, the stillness broken only by the scrape of Alos turning his empty mug around and around on the tabletop. At last Egil said, "If you are right, then it would seem that we all are driven to fulfill the destinies of these tokens of power. What then does it matter that we strive to reach our own ends? For whether or no we wish it, we are compelled by these things. -I hope I never come upon one of them."
Aiko looked at Egil. "Think on this: perhaps it is your wyrd to, as you say, come upon one of them. Perhaps you have no choice."
Egil gazed back at her. "What do you believe, Aiko? About tokens of power, that is, and whether or no they compel us to pursue their destinies?"