Morigu: Book 01 - The Desecration Page 15

  'There is more to this one than appears,' he thought. But he was too tired to try and follow that thought.

  "Now, you may call me Oidean," the old man continued, "and really, it's time for us to go. I really can't bear to stay a moment longer. It's so gloomy, don't you think?" Niall laughed and forgot his momentary doubt.

  "My men are tired and hurt, friend Oidean, but in truth, we would all like to get away from these great black caves."

  "Of course, of course," said Oidean. "I heard your fight with that awful troll. Good show, I say, and again, good show!" He got off his chair and fairly skipped down the pile of riches. "Trollsbane, a mighty name for a mighty lord," he said. "Off we go now and do see you don't disturb anything. One, two, three, people, people, people," he laughed.

  The men followed after their new companion. The way was long and the old man talked constantly, his voice reverberating across the unseen caverns, the little flame seeming to dance with joy in front of them. The men shared grins; they couldn't help but laugh at the old man's antics.

  Oidean informed them that he really wasn't sure how long he had been in the caverns or why he was there. He did proudly state he was a wizard after all.

  "A fire wizard, you know," he said. "Oh yes, yes, I used to blow things up all the time, but my, my, so long ago. I really don't remember what I blew up. But I think it was fun, you know. Don't you think it would be fun to blow things up? Not to hurt anyone, of course, just blow things up." Niall solemnly agreed he thought it would be great fun.

  The trip was marred by only one thing. While walking through a vast cavern, a stalactite fell and killed the man who had picked up the jewel. Oidean shook his head knowingly but said nothing. Carefully, the warriors bundled their dead comrade up and continued the journey.

  Finally, they came to a blank wall and a crack was heard. Another oddly shaped door opened and the warriors found themselves in a little valley. They threw themselves down in exhaustion, the door closing behind them. Oidean turned to Niall.

  "Don't worry, the Dark Ones will never use that passage. The old dwarven magic keeps them out." Before Niall could answer, a warrior tapped him on the shoulder.

  "I know this place," he said. "We're not two marches away from Ruegal Keep." Niall ordered three warriors that were in the best shape to seek a nearby village and get help.

  The wizard happily offered to light the fire and lived up to his word. He blew a great hole in the earth. The old man nearly burst into tears at the thought of killing the grass and insects and Niall was hard-pressed to calm him down. In spite of himself, Niall, who was usually cold to others, found himself liking the old gentleman. And, he noted, anyone that could blow a hole into the ground could be a help in this war.

  Three days later, Niall and his men with the wizard approached Ruegal Keep. The keep was built on a great plateau that was really a series of five plateaus. Each was at a different level, getting higher in progression, forming a giant five-step circular stairway. It was said that once the Gods of Light themselves lived there and that it was they who created the plateau stairs. The keep was the largest city of the empire next to Tolan, holding some thirty thousand people.

  Niall held up his horse to take in the magnificent sight of his clan's home. Great walls surrounded the city on all sides and on the last stair a giant fortress of red marble looked down on the world at its feet. Niall's heart swelled with pride. This was his home and, though he was the second son, he was sure he would be the next duke and rule this glorious citadel.

  At the foot of the bottom plateau stood the first great gate. Here, one of his father's lords escorted Niall and the wizard to the top. People and soldiers shouted greeting to Niall, the cry "Trollsbane" ringing in his ears, At the door of his father's court, he was given a bright gold-worked cloak and a ceremonial sword. The wizard had long since been given a new white cloak.

  The bronze doors swung open and the court, jeweled and dazzling in the splender of the Empire, bowed as one to the two travelers. Niall's father, Mannon, Archduke of Ruegal, sat on a throne of the same red marble that covered the walls. On his brow was a silver circlet. Niall's brother stood at his sire's right hand while a stranger stood on the left.

  The Archduke's hawklike features were blunted some by a golden beard, now greying a little. He got off the throne and hugged his son in his bearlike arms.

  "Honor and glory you bring to our house, Trollsbane," he said in a gruff voice. "Sure and it is glad to have you back I am." Mannon turned to the old man and smiled. "Och, now this is my son's savior, eh? My house is at your service." '

  The wizard's face turned a bright red and he mumbled, "It's nothing," his smile shy and happy.

  Niall's brother, Shiel, approached his brother as if he was approaching a wild bull. The two clasped arms, if not warmly, at least with mutual respect.

  "It's a great deed you have done, my brother," said Shiel grudgingly.

  "Thank you for your praise," answered Niall. "And sure it is good to be home," he said to his noble father.

  "We'll have a grand feast tonight," said Mannon, "to celebrate your return."

  "And the war," said Niall, "how does it go?"

  "Ah, tomorrow we'll talk of it. Tonight is a night for enjoyment, not talk of war." Niall did not say he preferred to talk of the war, but gave a graceful bow.

  The next morning, the two brothers joined their father in his study. Both were a little worn around the edges after the night's festivities, but were friendlier thanks to an all night drinking binge. As they entered the room, Niall was surprised to see the same warrior who had been with his father in the court.

  "Niall," said the Archduke, "this is Colonel Mathwei ap Niall," his son smiled at the name, "of the imperial cavalry," finished Mannon. Niall looked over the other. Mathwei was pale, his eyes hidden. He bore newly won scars, but still he gave the others a friendly grin.

  "Colonel," Niall nodded.

  "The Colonel was at the battle of Greenway," Mannon said.

  "I'm sorry I missed that one," Niall answered. Mathwei's grin disappeared, and he said nothing.

  "It was a great victory," added the duke, though his voice was quiet.

  "We lost a lot of men," Shiel interjected, his voice deep.

  "What's happened in the last week?" Niall asked. He and his brother sat at the table with the others.

  "A force was to be left at Comar, to try and hold it," Mathwei shrugged. "I was ordered here on the fifth, so I don't know whether it's been attacked yet."

  "The latest dispatches," the Archduke added, "suggest that Comar will be attacked within a matter of days." He reached for the goblet in front of him. "And to be sure, they know the city can't be held."

  "Then the enemy will reach Tolan?" asked Niall.

  "Without a doubt, boyo." The Archduke waved toward Mathwei. "The colonel here has been sent with important orders."

  "Lord Fin of Dun Scaga, at the request of General Ernet, has been chosen Warlord of the West." Mathwei didn't look at any of the others or touch his wine. "General Fintan holds Comar. Your father has been named Warlord of the East. In his hands is the defense of the whole empire from Brest to the Tivulic mountains and across to the port cities."

  "So." Niall said nothing more, his mind trying to picture the strategic situation.

  "By the end of the month," Shiel added, "the enemy will be at Tolan's gates. It's there that the next major battle will be."

  "Two Warlords," Niall murmured.

  "If Tolan falls, the empire will crack like a bad egg," Mannon said.

  "We hope the elves will reach us in time to help, but with the elder people, one can never be sure. So we need to gather all the men we can." The faces of Mathwei's three sisters flashed through his mind. "We must hold Tolan!" All were surprised by his vehemence.

  "With the emperor dead, with one son lost, the other insane," Mannon said, "and Dammuth missing," Mathwei winced at that, "there is no other leader to hold the empire together. Without the elves we
may end up isolated, cut off from one another, laddie."

  "All of the empire's troops have been given to Warlord Fin," Shiel added. "It's with our own men we must hold the East."

  "You have been given a commission in the army," Mathwei handed Niall a scroll, "with the rank of general. The imperial troops still in the East have all been gathered here. They are your command. You are to bring them to Tolan immediately."

  "Mathwei is your second-in-command," the Archduke added. Niall looked at the other. So young for such a command, he thought, forgetting the fact he was barely five years older. His father caught his look.

  "The colonel has been in every major engagement of the war," he said. "He's still alive. Listen to what he has to say, son." Niall smirked.

  "Shiel will take a force to the east to keep the enemy behind the mountains." The Archduke reached out over the table and grabbed his son's hand. "We may be separated for the duration, lad," he said. "Sure am I you'll add great deeds to the book of Ruegal."

  For the next two days the plan was finalized. It was decided that Oidean should go with Niall; perhaps in time he would remember his magical powers. "If he has any," added Shiel. But Niall was glad to have the old man.

  That night in camp Oidean lay still in his cot. His consciousness flew back to its rightful home. He sighed happily to feel the strength and power of his true form. A chuckle escaped through his lips; he had been so clever, so devious.

  Luxuriating in the steam and heat of his chamber his mind wandered back to a few weeks before. He had been sleeping for a long time, long even for his kind. Then the pressure of a demand had built in his mind until he could no longer ignore it. He woke. He listened. He made his pact. And he planned as only he, the last of his people, could.

  The deception was well thought out, he had been quick to take advantage of circumstances. His illusion was strong; only Arianrood was powerful enough to break it, and he didn't have to worry about that one. And he had not lost the magic of his words.

  He was clever, clever, and the game had only begun. Before he was done there would be surprises for everyone involved, oh, yes, everyone. He opened his mouth and consumed some of his treasure, the creative energy that had formed his meal infusing him with revitalized strength. This horde would last him long, and soon there would be new additions to it. He laughed again, silently, contentedly. Oh, yes, this was a good game, a fine game. Blouie! And his laughter filled the caverns.

  C H A P T E R

  Nine

  Lonnlarcan, Ard Riegh of the elves of Cather-na-nog, struggled with uncharacteristic exasperation. For three hundred years he had ruled his people and never had it been such a burden as now. A month and a half ago, Tolath had been invaded and since the first day of the attack, Lonnlarcan had been trying to pull his armies together to assist his human allies.

  The king sat in his great hall of Dummo Sorcha. It lay underneath a green hill covered with Richliess, the silver flowers of elfdom. No one could say how large that ancient hall was since the dimensions changed constantly.

  There was no ceiling. Above the great king the ancient night sky loomed. The bright, multicolored constellations revolved around each other in the slow dance of life, as they had before the sun had been born. It is said the sky roof is really a doorway into the first times. It is true that in this hall the Ard Riegh controlled time, so a day could seem a month or a year or a week. Since the invasion, the king and his advisors had been planning in the hall for one long day.

  The throne of Lonnlarcan is formed by a great root, a piece of the world tree that binds all that is living. The floors and walls were made of mosaics and tapestries that constantly formed and reformed to present marvelous tales of the first people. Behind Lonnlarcan's throne lay the ancient tapestry of Cuin Finnen which can predict the future or futures to come. Now it was strangely blank. No answers came from that corner.

  In the hall, tables were placed in a seemingly random plan, though to elvish eyes it surely had some meaning. On the floor at Lonnlarcan's feet, a great world map sprawled, all bright and glowing colors, except where Darkness ruled. In these areas, a black stain covered the land. As the elves watched, the darkness spread across the land of Tolath.

  "It will be at Tolan," said the king. At his words the map glowed a deep red where the city lay. "We ride at the rising of Dahy Dryw."

  "My lord," spoke one of his advisors, the mage Fiachra. "We will be able to bring only three thousand if we leave so soon, four thousand counting your guard."

  Lonnlarcan stared at the other's long golden hair, fingering his own silver locks. "Nevertheless, we ride." Fiachra's purple eyes showed a hint of defiance. "There is no choice, my friend. Tolan will fall if we are not there."

  "With only four thousand, it may fall anyway, my lord," added another.

  "No time, the Aislinneenna slows us at every turn. The people fear and indulge in the dream world more than they should."

  "You could stop them, my lord," answered Ceallac, the king's cousin.

  Lonnlarcan gestured to the other's mail-clad body. "War is too much to your liking, cousin. You are too fierce to fear as the people do. My power must be saved for the coming war. I'll not waste it in trying to control the uncontrollable."

  Silence came to those about the king. In the way of the elves they opened themselves and shared their souls with one another. It was not telepathy, but a type of empathy that allowed each to be the other for a moment or a lifetime.

  "Then it is agreed. Let the blood horn be lifted and the hosting begin." Even as he spoke, the horn was sounded and a great wailing filled all the elf nation. Those that were to respond knew and prepared their weapons and horses. Fire and magic ran through the elves and burned them with a fierce delight as they prepared for the hosting. Only a people who had no fear of death would respond so--only the elves.

  "And, my lord," said Fiachra, "who will lead the army?"

  In answer, Lonnlarcan rose from his throne and walked behind it. In that moment, all the elves of Cather-na-nog held their breath. At the foot of Cuin Finnen lay a scab-barded sword. The king grasped the silver handle.

  "No!" cried the elves in the hall. Lonnlarcan started to withdraw the blade. "My lord," cried Fiachra in despair, "never has an Ard Riegh led the first host. Never does he leave this hall except in the worst of circumstances. Never since the elves have been has the Ard Riegh ridden in the first hosting!"

  Underneath the Cuin Finnen, Lonnlarcan was a proud shadow amongst the beauty of the hall.

  "Never has the enemy possessed such power in so short a time. . . I will ride. I will lead. And I will reap!" As the chant was voiced, the king's form filled with a bright light. He drew the sword and the hill shuddered. All that was evil in the world from the highest to the lowest felt a cold wind of doom and knew fear.

  And in the darkest of all dark planes, in a place that ate and destroyed life, a patch of darkness raised itself up and a black chain rattled. A voice, a voice that would kill if any heard it, a voice that was all evil and more, spoke for the first time in long ages.

  "You show yourself too soon, Witch King." And all that was evil and that had allied itself to Darkness shook once more and grew brave.

  Moments after the blade was drawn, a naked elf dismounted and walked to the edge of a small lake deep in the heart of Cather-na-nog. The water was a rich and deep blue, but gave off no reflection. The elf was Cucullin, and with the Ard Riegh, Ceallac, and the warrior maid Breeda, was the greatest of all the elves in war. His naked body was proud and unbending. His compact muscles flowed across his tall frame.

  In his mind's eye, Cucullin saw himself in golden armor, the great ax , Kervalen, slung across his back. In the Dark Seign wars, his father had lost the armor and the ax to the demon, Apkieran. For a hundred years Cucullin sought to recover that which was lost. Finally, through the power of the Aislinneena, he relived his quest and succeeded. The power of the armor and the ax were the elf lord's as any who stood against him would find.
/>
  The elf's beardless face (none of the elven kind, and very few of the half-elven, can grow facial hair of any sort), boasted a great scar that ran from chin to brow line. Cucullin's golden hair was braided in one long braid that reached his waist.

  He knelt to the water and breathed once.

  "Sister of the first people," he said quietly, "it is I , Cucullin. Come to me and speak of what only you may know. Come, sister, and touch your servant with the hand of wisdom."

  For a moment all the green land around was quiet. No birds or animals moved. None of the fair people, the brown elves, sang or laughed. When their land of Mai Methra was destroyed in the old wars many of that people sought refuge in Aes Lugh, but there they dwindled. Here in this valley and the hillsides surrounding it, the greatest of those who had survived came to be with she who was their goddess, though they marched to war no more.

  The dark green lake stayed calm. No wind ruffled the waters. Then, the lake contracted and bulged up at its center as if a blanket was picked up by its middle. The water receded inches from Cucullin's hand. The newly formed water spout glistened in the light and formed into a beautiful elven woman. Her pale body was entwined by green-gold hair that floated on the breeze lightly as if she lie under the water still. Her body was curved and rounded, soft and sensuous. Oversized eyes stretched far across her face. There were no pupils or whites, just a deep and changing blue. Her ears were pointed as the elves', but larger. They would seem to detract from her beauty, but added instead.

  "I know why you have come, warrior, and I do not want to give you what you seek." Her voice was so soft it was barely audible.

  "Sister of my people, I must know," he said. He went down on bended knee. "Apkieran has come to the world, has he not?"

  "Ah, leave it, Bright One, the universe is lighter for your honest loyalty."